--- I ---

Somebody just PUNCH my mouth.

The pain is slowly stroking against the walls. I feel a constant soreness and pressure in my mind.

Somebody just punch me.

Would you rather get cut or get shot?

Get shot of course. It’s only momentarily. Once, and it’s over.

So it’s the same principle here.

I have two ulcers on the right side of my mouth. I have an appointment with my orthodontist today, who is going to tighten my braces double because I haven’t had it adjusted for more than two months.

Dr Tang put in new wires today because the old ones are, well, too seasoned (to the extent of not being bathed for seven days during field camp) until they’ve decayed. After the operation finished the sensation is like when I first put in braces: hard pressing against the teeth that even when the molars don’t make any contact, I feel soreness in the gum area. Biting makes it worse; my head is ringing alarm bells of overload. Coupled with those ulcers it’s impossible to eat properly.

--- II ---

I went on to Sentosa for the Platoon 3 gathering-cum-chalet right away after my appointment.

Suddenly I feel so sick being detached from the mainland, where everything is accessible and can be gained. Sentosa is not too bad; at least the very least of civilisation is still maintained there, plus the island is connected to the mainland by road, so if there’s anything I need from the mainland I can easily flag a bus and scoot there, easy as ABC. But still, what the hell, it’s an island, some things you still can’t get there.

At least I don’t see any RP or offenders standing guard with M16s at the gateway.

The guys are at Sunset Bay playing soccer. They’ve played beach volleyball and Frisbee all day. I decide to follow Louis and Yap up to the chalet, located around Palawan Beach (Sunset Bay, for your information, is at Siloso Beach). We walk along the beach. There’s a lot of friction, particularly at the areas where there is soft sand. Our feet keep getting trapped, and we have to force them to propel us along the sand. Eventually I opt to walk close to the waves, where the sand is solid and flat, easy to walk.

Coming towards Palawan Monorail Station, Yap points out a merry-go-round at the children’s playground. Not exactly the usual merry-go-round. This one sits four people. Someone will spin the riders, and they’ll just revolve about the centre support pole. Not a piece of cake. It’s a killer. After like, say, five rounds, your brain is left behind and something wants to knock you off your seat. Yap is the driver; he stops and asks how it is. “Wow.” I get off and sway left to ride like a drunkard. It’s the ultimate torture weapon.

There’s another merry-go-round adjacent to the one we just rode. For this, the riders hang down from the bar as they circle about. The dangers: (1) the rider is a hazard to other people because any idiot who stands too close to the ride will experience a flying kick only survivable in The Matrix; (2) the ride is a hazard to himself because if he lets go he will fly off and land somewhere with injuries that can be compared on the same level as being knocked down by a fast-moving vehicle. None of us feel like trying that after the first ride. Sitting down and spinning is bad enough. Don’t even talk about hanging there like a hangman.

Louis takes us by the shortcut to the chalet. It’s located atop a hill – or many hills. We ascend the slope that is meant for campers to pitch their tents to spend the night in the open. It’s not easy climbing with slippers. The footwear threatens to leave our legs. If we’re not careful enough we’ll bump our foot against the protruding tree roots and go home tomorrow with larger toes.

Heading to the right of the campsite, we enter dense foliage, and end up beside the clubhouse of the chalet. Crossing another road we scale another small slope, and finally arrive at the back door of our chalet. Yap is uncomfortable about the banana tree located close to the door.

Louis raps the door and calls for Dai Gor. He opens it, and we enter an open courtyard like those that you see at the back of shop houses, near the door to the alley. Past the toilet and into the living room, where Dai Gor’s and Louis’ girlfriends are sitting there watching television. There is a cute Chihuahua belonging to Dai Gor and his girlfriend, whom they call “Baby”.

The living room is furnished very simply, with a television set, one sofa, two armchairs and a wooden dining table with four chairs, and ventilated by a ceiling fan. For the convenience of couch potatoes the refrigerator is located in the adjoining room; so is the toilet. To get to the kitchen one must cross the open courtyard, which has a laundry line and a crude barbecue pit fashioned out of a half of an oil drum. The standard of the kitchen is comparable to that of a house: there’s a gas stove with a wok and metal pot on it. A kettle is provided for the purpose of boiling water; so are crockery and utensils.

There is a single bedroom on the second floor. It’s a new addition, made up of makeshift walls like those air-conditioned executive offices in open factories. It’s the only air-conditioned room in the whole chalet. There are three beds. In addition, there are mattresses underneath each of the beds. Everybody can squeeze in to sleep.

Dinner is a simple, cost-saving affair. Three tom-yam flavoured noodles cooked with eggs, served in a huge soup bowl. That’s for six people. Basically one rice bowl for each person. The rest have gone to Harbour Front to eat.

After the meal I decide to go out for a walk. I have to (1) digest; (2) get inspiration; (3) explore night life on Sentosa. Yap wants to go the 7-Eleven at the monorail station, so both of us set off down the hill. We leave by the front of the chalet, but take the hill slope which Louis took us by earlier. It’s dark, but not to the extent that we cannot see our fingers. It’s a precarious affair, going down what is considered treacherous terrain, especially when we’re wearing slippers.

None of us have eaten our fill. Yap buys a curry puff, while I get a Red Bean bun. Then we set off down the beach road towards Siloso Beach. I realise I’m not alone in owning an increased appetite.

We take the stairs that lead to the Merlion Walk, just as the carillon chimes eight. Yap tries to take photographs, but they turn out pretty bad, because the flash on his digital camera is not strong enough. They appear as dim patches on the LCD. We walk to the musical fountain, where a show has just finished, round the audience gallery and back on Artillery Road to go back to the chalet. Leaving Yap at the entrance of our unit to wait until someone opened the door, I dash back to catch the 8:40pm laser and fountain display.

I’m just in time. What a surprise; they’ve engaged a real human to go along with the fountain act. There’s this fellow wearing a light blue jacket with a pattern of stars; yellow long pants; red socks; white shoes; white gloves: totally mismatched fashion. And he talks in faked, optimistically exaggerated English – that can’t be helped; I think he hates it but he has to do it to impress the kids in the audience.

The people at Sentosa have definitely invested in more new gadgets for their beloved fountain. There are strobe lights; laser projectors… even fire shooters. Now they’ve taken advantage of the lily pond below the main fountain stage where they’ve submerged a powerful air spout that blasts water into the air like when something explodes underwater and sends waves crashing upwards. There’s even a “Wet Zone” demarcated on the front rows of the seats.

Overall the people have done a good job in combining water, music, laser, lights and live action into one half-hour show. I won’t describe any further. Do go and watch it; even if you pay $3 just to view the fountain show, it’s still very much worth it.

After the show I walk northwards to the Fountain Gardens. I still remember going there as a kid to play with water. My favourite is still this bird bath at the musical fountain end of the garden, where, despite my shortness, I could still touch the water, and send it splashing down to the pool below.

From the Ferry Terminal I board the monorail with the intention of taking a night ride around the island. I cut the idea straightaway after realising it might be the last train, and I could be stranded somewhere as the driver shooed the passengers away in order to park the train and go home. The interior of the car is dimly lit for a better view of the night. The train itself is like some glowing caterpillar, with Christmas or Hari Raya lights adorning the sides of each and every carriage.

The harbour is just as dazzling as it is in the day. The vessels display all their lights, and so do the buildings at the Harbour Front. One can also see the flyover with its vehicles travelling fast.

The forest at night isn’t as creepy as it seems, probably because I’ve spent like ten days out there during my outfield experiences. I never think of the possibility that there could be something that would jump out of nowhere and frighten the wits out of me. The only thing to fear while being in the forest is getting yourself into some form of danger, such as not being able to see properly in the dark and thus injuring yourself, or getting lost in a sea of trees.

What is more scarier is Fort Siloso at night. Apparently the Fort is haunted by the lost souls from World War II. The life-size statue of a British soldier with a sword pointing upwards standing next to some entrance close to the monorail tracks freaked me out a bit; I didn’t dare to stare at it for too long in case it made some motion. Now that’s unexplainable and scary.

The Cable Car monorail station is totally empty. Void of passengers; and no one gets off. Thank goodness we move off soon.

Past the soccer field after the Merlion. A match is in full swing, spotlights shining powerfully overhead.

The train comes to a stop at Palawan Station. I get off here, intending to spend time by the beach and soak in the breeze. I walk slowly on the sand towards the suspension bridge. There’s a group of children here on holiday camp, and they are about to be dismissed to return to their tents on the slope. On the beach itself there are holiday campers who have pitched their tents there. A radio is playing, and that’s the only sound besides the lapping of the waves against the shore.

I cross the bridge that will take me to what is so-called the “Southernmost Point of Asia Continent”. Isn’t Indonesia part of Asia? But what they take it to be is the whole mass of land that runs from Russia, past China, past Vietnam, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, and now this little islet at the tip of Sentosa. The idea is an unbroken CONNECTION. The islet is connected to Sentosa by the suspension bridge; Sentosa is connected to Singapore by a causeway, and Singapore is connected to Peninsular Malaysia by yet another causeway. So you can drive your car from JB down Woodlands to Harbour Front to Palawan Beach via Allanbrooke Road, park near the bridge and run across it to the viewing platform facing the Straits of Singapore and holler to the whole world that you’re at the Southernmost Point of Asia Continent.

The sea breeze is cool and continuous. It’s a fairyland of lights in the background: orange and white and yellow, from the monstrous ships parked on the Straits; and from Batam far, far away at the back. Once in a while a fast craft will ply perpendicular in the direction I am facing.

I climb up one of the two viewing towers. Thank goodness the ceiling at the top is flat; no hollow roofs. I’m reminded of the stories about the viewing tower at Pasir Ris park which has supernatural happenings, such as a head appearing in the hollow of the roof. But I have to admit it’s a little creepy after the other group of people leave the tower, leaving me all alone in the rather brightly-lit structure. You’d rather the environment be dark when you’re alone. Going solo with lights around you is pretty intimidating, for you’ll never know if your eyes play tricks on you. An unknown figure might be standing not far away, under the beam of a light, waiting for you…

These thoughts race through my mind as I climb the last flight of steps to the top deck of the tower. I plan to walk a circle around the deck.

Suddenly I stop dead in my tracks with a jolt of electricity running through me.

I thought I saw something large on the ground ahead of me.

Turned out it was a couple doing their stuff. They were so busy hugging and kissing one another that they failed to notice me. I quickly creep away.

Talk about fearing the living than the dead.

I slowly trudge back to the chalet. This time I’m following the long route. No more climbing the hill tonight.

And I’m certainly not going near that banana tree at our backyard.

To reach the chalet from the car park, one has to follow a slope with quite a steep gradient past two abandoned colonial building, one further up the hill from the other. I did not think too much about these structures, but just walk. I don’t want to think about the paranormal, because it will only induce them to make their presence known as they know I am weak-hearted.

I make it back to the chalet without problems.

TO BE CONTINUED…  ¶ 6/08/2004 01:41:00 pm