summer 2011 starts right here

We woke up that morning on a dreamy mood. Mood brought about by the fact that we were finally reunited after 6 months of separation, longest since we first met each other. Last night’s stint was exhausting as it was glorifying, like an angry make up sex on post annulment reconciliation. I’m talking about beer overload.

We thought of hitting the road to Malacca only for one night. That means the day will just be short and the quickie trip were meant only to escape the ridiculously marked up Singapore sin tax. The bus fare we paid at the Golden Mile complex was way cheaper than a night in Clarke Quay (S$ 20 Singapore to Malacca and S$ 10 Malacca to Singapore). It was an impromptu trip, no plans, no itineraries, nothing.

I woke Monette up, that day marked the start of our summer 2011!

I jumped off the bed and enthusiastically opened the dutch wooden windows to greet the summer morning, and VOILA!


I seriously thought of changing our blog url to only if it wasn’t taken by some tornado fetish men looking for Dorothy.

As usual, the show must go on, we are used to it and we mastered the art of not-letting-the-weather-dampen-our-spirit shit. So we head off to do what’s the best thing to do on a cold rainy morning.


No, really. It was a hearty breakfast with some french toast, fresh fruits, cereals, scrambled eggs and a cup of pure carotid artery pumping caffeine topped with a fake english accent. Aahh, perfection!

Malacca is a walking town, the colonial shophouses and the antique shops made the picturesque composition perfect for an early morning stroll with your one and only beloved… Camera!

It was not as walkable as it should be when the heavy rain is battering the streets and terra-cotta roof tiles. So what else to do?

… get another cup of pure carotid artery pumping caffeine.

The singing in the rain mood made Monette burst into a song… Hindi kitaaaaa malilimutaaaaan! Which totally freaked out the slow walking old man in front of us, as if he understood the lyrics of the funeral song and sprinted out of the scene to avoid being harassed by two foreign lunatics. Was it really the song that freaked him out? Or Monette’s hideous 50 Pesos per tumpok puta shorts from Muñoz (50 Pesos per bundle hooker shorts).

So there goes your post card popular Christ Church of Malacca. And it is not pink! It is Cordovan, which is in fact a shade of brown… please don’t argue.

We went straight walking around the town, and the only people on the road were the few Korean tourists with their annoyingly noisy tour guides and equally annoying wide uniform visors. The locals seemed to be either too lazy procrastinating to start the day or hiding from hungry resident evil zombie Cerberuses scheduled to attack the town by eight in the morning.

It felt bizarre, specially for urban corporate rats like us, to see deserted roads during a late rush hour in the morning. But we loved it! So why rush? When every body else refused to. Even the drivers of those elaborate gay embellished rickshaw were still enjoying their morning boner mode.

So we took a U-turn and head off to do what we were there for in the first place!

No, not “birds”…