DreamWrites

This section is a collection of the journeys I’ve taken, across places, experiences, and ideas.  From train rides that tested my patience to volcano climbs that tested my endurance, each story carries a piece of where I’ve been and what I’ve learned.  Some are lighthearted, some reflective, but all are real and written from the heart.

These essays are snapshots in time, moments I didn’t want to forget, or ones that helped me remember who I’m becoming. 

The Vesuvius Venture

The Vesuvius Venture unfolded with the sun casting its golden glow over the daunting slopes of Mount Vesuvius. I stared upwards, trying to see the end point of the madness I was about to face. Trekking in literal circles up the side of a volcano was not what I imagined as an ideal vacation, especially considering the infamous history of this very mountain. Pompeii's tragic fate echoed in my mind, and the early morning call to explore history disrupted my beauty sleep, leaving me less than enthused. Stepping out of the car and staring up the path noting the challenge my untrained body was going to endure sent chills down my spine. With heavy breathing, I eyed my parents, who seemed more excited than concerned about the impending challenge. My parents signalled to our guide, Mr. Archer, a middle-aged man with a muscular stature and a warm smile. After a brief introduction, he led us through stretches and a short briefing. He shared with us the path we were going to take to see the crater of the dormant volcano. We ended the briefing with a short break to cool down and prepare ourselves for the challenge we were going to face. As time passed  during the break, the heat started to build up and sweat started trickling down my face. The sun was facing me and the glare of sunlight was directly in my eyes! I hunted through my bag looking for my pair of sunglasses. To me the trek felt like a nightmare with every step I took. I was overwhelmed by the heat and began regretting my optimism on exploring the past.

It all started on a Thursday morning, my family always planned for extravagant trips overseas to explore the world and learn about some of its greatest treasures. It was always their hope that my brother and I would gain invaluable information and become people with a horizon of perspective and experiences to boost our education. We started planning for our trip to a new continent, Europe, to explore the rich history of some of the greatest civilizations like the Greeks, Romans and even the French. We decided to cover two of the seven wonders of the world. The Colosseum in Rome and even the Eiffel Tower in Paris. My parents carefully planned the trips ensuring we get to tour and reap the benefits of seeing the extraordinary places built by mankind in the past. The trip was meant to be themed “A blast from the Past”. After touring Greece we came to Pompeii to explore the history of the famous volcanic eruption of Mount Vesuvius. We had to leave pretty early in the morning as we intended to travel up to the trekking point of the mountain which was a considerable distance away from the hotel. I was astounded by the scenery highlighting the true beauty of Gaia. 

“Come on Sara! Stop slacking, don’t you want to see the crater of the volcano?” Urged my younger brother who was hyped about the trip to see a volcano for the first time in his life.  He bounded up the slope with a strong air of confidence ignoring the words of wisdom from our guide Mr Archer. “Pace yourself lad! You do not want to tire yourself out before even reaching the peak of the volcano.” The kind voice of Mr Archer called out to my overexcited brother. I had always suspected my brother was battery powered as he always had the energy to keep on running around without tiring out quickly. I exchanged an exhaustive smile with my parents. I  knew exactly what we all were thinking. We made the climb slowly making our way up the volcano. The air was thinning slowly but surely as we went higher and every step felt like a thousand times heavier. We were all out of breath and had to make a few stops to take a break. I admired shop owners who set up stalls on the slopes to sell souvenirs to the tourists who trekked up the slope. They were extremely strong and very energetic as they kept on exuding their influence on buying a momento. I would certainly be lying if I said that we went up the volcano and returned with the same amount of things. We hastily bought a few magnets to give to friends and made our way up faster in order to escape the tormenting heat. 

As the slow trek finally led us closer to the crater, I was stunned by a turn of events. A strong gust of wind sent small pebbles flying. However, pebbles were not the only thing that came flying my way. While looking straight ahead something suddenly flew right towards me and smacked me straight into my face. I quickly swatted the object away just to see the face of a horrified young lady whose hat started to slowly fall down the side of the volcano with no point of return. I wanted to laugh at her plight when realisation struck. I was the reason the lady was in the situation. I felt my cheeks and ears heat up and my head tilted in shame. Guilt overwhelmed me. I went up to the lady to apologise. To my surprise the young lady started to burst into a fit of laughter. She chuckled and replied “ Ah! Good riddance to bad rubbish! I never cared for that hat anyways.” She turned away from me and addressed her partner, “Now you have to buy me that hat which I liked!” she exclaimed in a high pitched squeal. I felt the fear melt away and burst into laughter which definitely did not go unnoticed. The young lady smiled at me and thanked me for saving her from a fashion disaster. My parents tried their best to keep a straight face as they looked at the young couple and we continued our climb up. After twenty more minutes, we finally reached the crater and to my surprise there was nothing grand about it at all.

Disappointment crossed my face as my imaginations of seeing hot bubbling lava or even ashes melted away into nothingness. I sighed and picked up a piece of volcanic rock. The rock was extremely porous and it was the only thing that actually piqued my curiosity. I was going to pocket the rock when my mother stopped me to share a piece of wisdom I hold close to my heart till this day. “Take only memories and leave only footprints.” Understanding the point my mother was trying to make, I placed the rock back down and posed with my family for photos. I looked up to the sky feeling disappointment for such a tiresome experience with no gain before I actually realised what my parents gifted me. I got the experience of persisting through challenges and finding humour in the littlest things of life. I smiled as I ticked another place off the map proud of all the knowledge I gained. Whenever I visit any place new or old. I always take pictures. After all I learnt to, “Take only memories and leave only footprints.” With this lesson the Vesuvius Venture came to a close. In the end, the Vesuvius Venture taught me to persist through challenges, find humour in unexpected moments, and appreciate the journey over the destination. The disappointments faded, and the memories endured. Like the end of a fantasy book, we lived happily ever after, almost.

Mumbai Madness 

When you imagine a train everyone sees different things. A kid would imagine a steam engine, namely Thomas the train. A Singaporean would picture a MRT Train! But me? I see a nightmare! No, I do not fear trains. However, seeing an Indian train– still sends shivers down my spine. My nightmare started on a Friday morning. A worthy member of the hall of infamous habits is mine of sleeping in. I would often sleep in and rush through my day. My mother was practically rushing me out of the house in order to not miss the train. Classic Mumbai had the worst traffic in the world. We spent a literal hour on the road barely moving half an inch every five minutes. With every passing minute, I felt guilt overwhelm me. Everyone in the car was passing the blame game around and I felt beads of sweat trickling down my forehead. Soon, I felt Lady Luck take pity on me as suddenly we passed through the traffic in a quarter of the time we waited and even reached the train station on the dot. With the professional help of the coolies who were well prepared for commuters like us, we boarded the train and were seated in our seats. Happy with a fistful of cash the coolies disembarked the train and went back to their duties. 

The timing could not be more perfect as the ear-splitting horn signalled the train to start moving to the next station. As we settled into our seats we suddenly came to a realisation that our seats were in the general class. This was ending up on the leaderboard of regrets as we felt the heat in the train build up a few degrees at a time. The small fans felt useless against the rising heat, hence proving my suspicions as just pieces of white elephants. Decor with no real purpose! I felt myself melting into a puddle of sweat. Unfortunately, the start of the journey was only the tip of the iceberg. Alas we arrived at the infamous Dardar station. Known for chaotic boarding, people were boarding by pushing each other into the train. The greatest flaw of the train system was the allowance of having waitlisted passengers on the train even without a valid ticket. It caused the entire train to fill up rather quickly and I felt anxious as I felt claustrophobic build up inside my body. With every passing minute, the train started feeling full and the heat built up even more. As the train passed each station the train continued to fill up to the brim. People started sitting anywhere they got the space to sit. The floors and the seats were maxed out with the number of people in the train. Passengers would start to argue with each other as the commuters who had reservations were unable to sit in their seats as a passenger with a waitlisted ticket would be sitting there. 

As we continued the journey, I found myself more traumatised with the people’s attitude. People were littering by throwing their waste outside the train window. I looked down to see the tracks littered with bits of food and plastics. I also saw the crows swoop down to eat a little stray mouse that was finding its meal for the day. Seeing the lack of care for the environment was extremely disheartening. The surroundings were absolutely jaw-dropping with the lush greenery and bright fields. However, some parts of the train ride was littered with many slums living near the train tracks. It was depressing yet insightful and I felt very fortunate to be able to grow up in a well-to-do family. Growing up in Singapore, I always took for granted the law and order that kept the city clean. However, seeing the polluted environment around me. I found a newfound appreciation for the cleanliness and orderliness Singapore upholds. Looking out of the window was my only escape to the madness I was trapped in. I felt more at peace as I looked at the scenic mountains and rivers. Despite the heavy pollution, the untouched areas remained beautiful.

As our train journey unfolded, an unexpected turn of events added both challenges and moments of respite. Approximately two hours into the trip, a waitlisted lady sought refuge on the floor between our seats, resulting in the loss of the extra inch of legroom we had initially relished. This adjustment reshaped the dynamics of our compartment, leading to a noticeable hum of discontent among passengers. The once serene atmosphere within the train was now replaced with a bustling mix of noise. The persistent salesmen, undeterred by the growing unrest, continued their sales pitches, contributing to the overall commotion. Amid this backdrop, disabled individuals occasionally traversed the crowded aisles, seeking modest financial assistance. Their appeals added a layer of emotional complexity to the already dynamic environment.  The sensory experience extended beyond the auditory, embracing the olfactory realm. The air carried the tantalising aroma of Indian treats being peddled by passing salespeople. The menu included delectable offerings such as hot samosas, vada pav, and refreshing cucumbers. Driven by hunger, I opted for a satisfying combination, including Coca Cola, vada pav, a salted cucumber, and butter popcorn. As the flavours tantalised my palate, some of the stress induced by the cramped space dissipated. It was a momentary reprieve amid the chaos, providing an opportunity to savour the culinary delights and temporarily escape the constraints of the crowded train compartment. Seizing the moment, my grandmother used the opportunity to share stories, creating a small oasis of connection and nostalgia amidst the tumultuous journey.

As time passed, the soothing sound of rain began to grace my ears. The gentle pitter-patter of raindrops brought relief from both the literal and figurative heat, calming the commuters in the train. The atmosphere shifted, and I found solace in the soft breeze that wafted through the train carriage. Having passed several stations, the train became less crowded, allowing me to swap seats with my gracious brother, bringing about a newfound level of comfort. Seated and relaxed, I decided to make the most of the remaining journey. Ever the prepared individual, I pulled out my crochet kit and engaged in this soothing activity. Between occasional snacking and the rhythmic motions of crocheting, the five-hour train ride seemed to pass seamlessly, and we eventually arrived at the station. The chaos ensued as commuters rushed to disembark, practically pushing each other in their haste. As we were about to exit the station, a moment of hilarity unfolded. My grandmother, in an attempt to stretch her feet, had removed her sandals. In the rush to leave, she accidentally wore one of her own sandals and the other belonged to the neighbour who had sat next to her. Amid fits of giggles and mild embarrassment, we exchanged the mismatched footwear through the window.

The day had proven to be incredibly eventful, and much to my surprise, it was not over yet. As I pondered on the entire journey, a profound sense of gratitude toward my parents welled up within me. Their decision to bring me to Singapore revealed its merits as I appreciated the cleaner and safer environment that made traversing the city far more enjoyable. Even with the challenges faced during the Mumbai train ride, I recognized that every memory, whether joyful or challenging, played a crucial role in shaping me into a more independent and disciplined individual. The contrasting experiences served as building blocks in the construction of my character. In the grand scheme of things, riding the Mumbai train unfolded as an extraordinary experience, knitting together instances of chaos, moments of hilarity, and a deep sense of gratitude. These elements wove themselves into a vivid tapestry of unforgettable memories that will undoubtedly linger in my mind for a lifetime.

A Drive through Desaru 

I stared out of the window of the car surveying the surroundings around me. Embarking on this road trip to Desaru, I felt the excitement pulsing through every pore in my body. Although a coastal vacation was far from the adventures I usually faced with every family trip, the idea of unwinding and not worrying about uncertainty felt blissful. The scenic route promised a visual treat, a welcome change from the peak of adventure routine. I was extremely hyped for the activities planned in Desaru, from the exciting trip to the Desaru ostrich farm to the breathtaking beaches. I was certain that our trip would go by peacefully. As we left the cityscape behind,  seeing nature unfolding before our eyes was welcoming. Lush greenery and open roads captivated us. My brother and I could not help but press our faces against the windows, eager to spot unique things that lie ahead. Each passing kilometre heightened our anticipation to explore the land around us. In a few hours of braving the traffic and heat we saw Desaru appear on the horizon, an expansive coastal canvas. The rhythmic waves, the sandy beaches, and the warm coastal breeze greeted us. I was extremely excited to get started on what I expected to be the most fun holiday ever. 

As we immersed ourselves in the coastal haven of Desaru, our days unfolded with a rich tapestry of activities that captured the essence of this serene destination. Beach strolls transformed into a cherished ritual, allowing us to absorb the soothing rhythm of the waves and relish the sensation of soft sand beneath our feet. The adventurous spirit of my family found its expression in the thrill of water sports, injecting our journey with an invigorating spark. Laughter echoed against the backdrop of exhilarating moments, creating memories that would forever resonate with the joy of shared experiences. With each day of our trip, Desaru wove a vibrant tapestry, where threads of joy and relaxation seamlessly intertwined. The sun-drenched hours weren't merely spent in the pursuit of activities; rather, they became a celebration of the simple pleasure of being fully present in each moment. The coastal charm of Desaru worked its magic, casting a serene spell that wrapped tranquillity around our souls.

During the trip, we even got the opportunity to visit an ostrich farm. This unique experience added a delightful feather to our cap of Desaru adventures. The ostrich farm opened a window into the world of these majestic birds. As we stepped onto the farm, the first thing that struck us was the sheer size of these flightless giants. Towering over us, ostriches strutted about with an air of curiosity, their inquisitive eyes and long necks creating an amusing spectacle. Our guide was well-versed in the ways of these fascinating creatures and shared insights into their habits. He even allowed us to feed them. The sensation of an ostrich gently nibbling from our hands was both thrilling and surreal. Laughter and awe filled the air as we engaged with these magnificent creatures. When people said that ostrich eggs are huge, I did not understand how big they were. However, seeing the eggs in person was impressive and made all the difference. The visit to the ostrich farm became a feathered highlight of our trip. 

Towards the end of our journey, my parents orchestrated an enchanting experience that will forever be weaved in the tapestry of our family history. From the recesses of my earliest memories, I always had an earnest aspiration – the desire to encounter a singularly unique bug. To my sheer delight, my parents transformed this aspiration into reality by taking me to a firefly park. The enchantment unfolded as we embarked on a boat, serenely gliding down a placid river. The night enfolded us like a velvety curtain, and as our vessel drifted, the surrounding metamorphosed with the radiance of myriad fireflies. It was a spectacle surpassing the realms of my imagination, an embodiment of a dream long held. Enveloped by the radiance, I felt as if I had teleported into the pages of a spellbinding fairy tale. The rhythmic ballet of the fireflies orchestrated a mesmerising symphony of light, casting an enchanting spell over the undulating river. In that moment, the mundane was transfigured into pure magic. It wasn't merely the realisation of a dream; it was a profound encounter with a reality so exquisitely beautiful that its splendour left an indelible mark on my consciousness. In the gentle luminosity of those fireflies, we transcended the role of mere audience on a boat; we became the stars in a phenomenon of jaw-dropping beauty. The firefly park assumed the mantle of a stage for a narrative so exquisite, etching its brilliance onto the very fabric of our family story.

A surge of gratitude filled my heart for my parents, the architects of not just a trip but a dreamlike experience. The firefly park emerged as one of the true highlights of our Desaru adventure, imprinting a luminescent memory onto the canvas of our family journey. As our short but magical trip approached its end, the inevitable farewell to Desaru weighed on us. Reluctantly, we bid adieu to the coastal paradise, each of us carrying fragments of its serenity within our hearts. Driving away, I gazed at the sun gracefully dipping below the horizon, leaving behind a tapestry of memories etched in the sands of serenity. The fading sunlight cast a golden glow over the landscape, a poetic farewell to a destination that had gifted us moments of joy, discovery, and shared laughter. The journey might have reached its conclusion, but the memories, like the sands of Desaru, would forever be a part of our collective family story.

As the journey reached its conclusion, a peculiar turn of events unfolded. Just when we thought our Desaru adventure was coming to an end, a mischievous monkey appeared out of nowhere and decided to join us for the final stretch. This cheeky primate, clearly enamoured by our car, hopped onto the roof and began to play an impromptu game of "car surfing." Our feeble attempts to shoo it away only fueled its enthusiasm. Picture this: a monkey surfing atop our car, wind blowing through its fur, as if auditioning for a new blockbuster movie – "Monkey and the Furious." The entire scene was so absurdly amusing that our laughter echoed louder than ever. Fellow travellers on the road stared in disbelief as we became the unwitting stars of a spontaneous roadside comedy show. Eventually, the furry hitchhiker bid us farewell with a mischievous grin, leaving us with a hilarious anecdote to cap off our Desaru escapade. Who would've thought that a monkey would add the final touch of comedy to our already unforgettable journey?