PART ONE: My First Solo Adventure to Northern Thailand (30 September to 14 October 2006)

10 days off work. 14 days in Northern Thailand.

This is my first solo adventure trip on my own, thanks to my friend, Christine, who dropped a bombshell on me five days before our trip, telling me that she had to change her booked flight to Thailand to 2 days instead of 2 weeks for a work trip to Manila. I was thrown into few choices, One- Postpone the trip, Two- Find a new partner, Three-Cancel the trip and Last- Go on my own. I debated these options and decided I really needed a break.

The decision was made.

I’ll venture to Northern Thailand on my own. Many “What If” scenerios surfaced in my head, what if I drop my passport and can’t get my way back, what if I get burglared in the room while we were sleeping like in Nepal?, “What if the guesthouse I’m staying in is haunted?...All these “What If” thoughts lingered in my brain but they remained very much as haunting thoughts, as the trip date neared.Going on my own for the first time, I felt the tingling sensation and a sense of fear and uncertainty, the same feeling I used to get during the wee hours of the morning before the examinations, trying to cramp all the last-minute information into the malfunctioning brain.

Getting Ready to Set Off

It was a frantic day at work the day before I left for this trip. The Museum hosted the The Art of Cartier exhibition opening at very evening, with Minister Lee Boon Yang as the Guest-of-Honour. By the time the event ended, it was already 10pm. At 3am, I was still frantically typing my hand-over list in the office.

My flight was at 9.20am the very next morning. Dead-beaten, I hailed for a cab just outside the museum at about 3.15am. The driver said, “strange to come out of the Museum at this time, hor.” I replied, “yah.”, too tired to strike a conversation with the driver by then. “Where you want to go?”, the driver asked. “93, Stamford Road,” I replied without much thought. “Huh?”, the driver said. I realized my mistake, I had given him the Museum’s address, instead of my home address. “It’s very scary if that is really your address”, he joked. The old Museum has often been associated by many Singaporeans as a spooky place where old items are stored, and owners of these items, long-deceased people’s spirits lingered.“Sorry, sorry”, I apologized, “It’s Serangoon Avenue 4.”

I reached home at 3.40am and started on my half-filled backpack. By the time I finished it was already 4.30am. It was only about one hour before I head for the airport. Eager to rest my tired mind and feeble limbs, I decided to nap, even if this was only for that short time.