It’s been a slightly over a week since I left you.  Truth be told, for a long time now, I had thought long and hard about leaving you. And now that I have, I think I owe you an explanation.

I first met you nearly 2 years and 4 months ago. I remember the day when I first laid my eyes on you. Your 163 ppi LCD touchscreen. That 16 GB hard disk. But what really blew my mind was how you could surf the Internet and play games on the go. I never met a phone that could do that before. You knew all the right tricks to make a guy like me happy.

I remember the good times we had. I brought you everywhere; we were virtually inseparable. I will never forget those hours I spent talking to you. The photos we took together. You were always there when I needed you; waking me up in the mornings, playing me my favourite songs and keeping me entertained on those long, dreadful train trips.

But you had a mysterious streak about you. Like you would go missing, only to pop up unexpectedly where I had previously looked. Or how you would purposely tangle up earphones when I left you alone with them.

Sadly, over time, I realised you had changed. No longer were you as responsive as you were before as you got crankier and crankier. Your mood swings were terrible; you would leave me in the lurch when you felt like it because your batteries ‘suddenly died’, Even when I was sure that I had charged you the night before. You would make me raise my voice when talking to you because you claimed you couldn’t hear me. And you didn’t want to take pictures with me anymore.

Admittedly, it wasn’t all your fault. I, too, am to blame.  I regret the times that I hit you out of anger or threw you around like a ragdoll. I shouldn’t have left you those scars.

But inevitably my eyes wandered.  Younger, newer models caught my eye, alluring with their promises of happiness. But I decided to remain with you, hoping that things would get better between us. But that never came to be.

Then early October, I met your cousin. She reminds me of everything that I saw in you when I first met you. Except she is sleeker, faster and comes packing with a 32GB hard disk(I am not the shallow sort but I guess hard disk space does matter). And she not only listens; she is perfectly capable of maintaining an intelligent conversation with me. I guess brains do matter after all.

So we went on a date behind your back. Told you I would be back for you as I left you behind, in the hands of a complete stranger for $200. For this betrayal, I am sorry. But I simply didn’t see how we would have worked out. Deep down, perhaps I always knew it was a matter of time before it would come to this.

You will probably never see me again. But I wanted to at least thank you for those 2 odd years.

Amos

Sent from my iPhone 4S

But I find myself back in advertising as a copywriter.

It was on my mind for a while; the thought of actually not going back to advertising. I contemplated doing something else for a change. Marketing or wiggle my way somehow into the video gaming industry. I never was really proactive in pursing in a job after graduation. After taking a one-month sojourn through South East Asia (which I must say I enjoyed myself thoroughly), I spent yet another month at home sitting in front of my laptop till the wee hours in the morning. Perhaps I didn’t want to work at all… enjoying the freedom in doing whatever I wanted for a while. Unfortunately, my bank account disagreed with me.

One of the conundrums I personally face is the clash of interests between my left and right brain. I do not consider myself totally creative or logic based. I do appreciate both aspects and needed to find a career that would allow me to express myself that way. I had many an internal tussle with what would be suitable for me. That was why I considered the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA). When I applied for the MFA, it was mostly on a whim. I thought to myself, ‘ Hey, high pay, the chance to travel and get diplomatic immunity when I shoplift in a foreign country… why not!’ It seemed like a good opportunity to use a little of both conflicting sides of my brain: Logical problem solving with a slight creative twist. Little did I expect the Ministry to call me asking me to attend a selection test. And then another. And then an interview with a couple of their directors.

One would generally expect that when you go through a total of 18 hours or tests and interviews, the company would be very keen to hire you. It was not the case with the MFA, after 18 hours of prodding and probing my mind, they decided that ‘as competition is very keen, we regret that you are not shortlisted for the post’.

On hindsight (everything is looks easier on hindsight!), I agree that the MFA might not have been the best fit for me. I candidly discussed my views and opinions during the interview with the board of directors, stating why I do not want to join the Ministry of Information, Communication and the Arts because I disagreed with their censorship policies. And each time I expressed a frank opinion, the HR director would return me a disapproving look. The interview was probably doomed from the start when she started announcing several times that, ‘I don’t think you might be a good for for our ministry.’

And you know what? She might have been absolutely right. If the vibe I felt in that interview, the stuffy, stiff upper lip atmosphere that absolutely stank throughout that 30 minutes or so, was going to be what I had to work in for the next X number of years, no thank you. I value the freedom to think for myself and make decisions based on my principles; principles that I hold very close to my heart. It also follows a familiar pattern in my life. To be rejected or told that ‘I am not good enough/not a good fit’. I enjoy proving to people that it would be their mistake, not mine.

Perhaps it was a stroke of good luck that I landed my first copywriting gig. Saw an advertorial, applied for it, sent in writing samples and met up with the CEO, who stays relatively near me and got the job over just 2 days. Yes, I will be writing mainly classifieds and recruitment ads for a start, but advertising is notoriously hard to break into and I should count my blessings.

Yet, it might not be Luck after all. Could this be the Universe’s way of telling me I belong in advertising? Even though I slogged it out for a good portion of 2 years in University, yet not producing a working portfolio worthy enough for other companies? Regardless, this is an opportunity and I would be a fool not to seize it.

During Portfolio Night in April, a renowned local Creative Director told me told me that he didn’t see the ‘love of writing’ in my work. He went on to advise me that ‘if you don’t love writing, maybe advertising is not for you.’ Well, Mr, CD, you know how much I love to disappoint people’s preconceived expectations of me.

I just had failed my Promos with a score of OFFF. Hanging in the balance was my participation in an Overseas Community Participation program and something we Asians hold very much to heart: Face. Never before my time in the Singaporean education system had I ever achieved such a dismal grade. As procedure, my parents were summoned to meet the then principal, Mrs Lim Lai Cheng. Now when Mrs Lim spoke, she seemed friendly enough. A women of average stature, her neatly trimmed short hair framed her oval face. With amicable enough eyes and a perpetual smile on her face, she always seemed approachable enough for one to pour out his or her problems too.

On one particular November afternoon, I will learn that behind that persona would be someone ruthless. Perhaps for our own good, but it underlies one of the flaws of our education system. The need to succeed on academic terms. Seating opposite her in an uncomfortable wooden chair (perhaps more so in the situation I was placed in), I was issued an ultimatum.

“Did you know your son has not done well in his promotional examinations? We recommend either he retain one year or drop out and try the polytechnics. Based on our past experience, this is usually better.”

For a 17 year old who had harboured big dreams of winning a scholarship or going to Law or Medicine, those words hit hard. Retaining another year or dropping a subject? There was no easy decision and every choice seemed like a fatal blow to my idealistic dreams. And pressing me on to retain another year? I was crushed.

But there was my father, decked out fully in his army uniform who interjected with words I still recall to this very day:

‘ I believe in my son. And I believe he will be able to cope and do well.’

And no matter how hard Mrs Lim tried to convince us that I needed another year, my dad’s comments sealed his decision. Sure, I would have to drop a subject. But now, I had a goal. I had something to prove to Miss Lim and live up to my father’s words.

–

1 year on, as I claimed my result slip, I had succeeded. ABB wouldn’t get me a scholarship or even into Law or Medicine. But I proved that against the odds (and failing a second time in the June Common Test in J2), I could succeed. Not on anyone else’s terms but my own.

–

The ambition of becoming a lawyer or doctor soon faded and it was time to choose from a local university. Receiving a booklet from NTU, I casually flipped it till I stopped at a page. A page with spot lights and fancy cameras backed by a green screen. And I lingered, reading everything those 2 pages had to say.

In hindsight, there were no lofty dreams of becoming a top journalist, creative director or broadcaster. All I saw and thought was ‘Hey, this course… like quite cool ah.’ I had heard rumours; rumours that the school was hard to get in. I just shrugged my shoulders, filled in the one course and sent it in. Because it had a cool picture that kept my attention longer than any other page did.

–

I didn’t actually did not know what I was getting myself into. I didn’t do research on the school or what it’s credentials were. In fact, I didn’t even know the school existed till that brochure. It hence surprised me when I got an invitation to attend a written test and interview.

Never having actually gone to NTU before (not even for the open house), I was pleasantly surprised by the venue of the test. A structure that broke up the monotony of grey. Brilliant blue, the sunlight reflecting off every glass pane, a refreshing change from a sea of concrete the rest of NTU was. The tour after the written test was wonderful as well. ‘Ooo, those are the cameras I saw in the brochure!’, I thought to myself, as we were led to the basement. And there was the room where student reporters did their work. And the room where they did questions and observations through a special mirror. And the benches. Cool.

Without preparation, I was caught off guard when one of the two professors interviewing me asked why I wanted to come to the school. So I talked about what interested me at that time: Music. And not actually knowing that the school had a radio station and audio course, I talked at length to the two professors interviewing me about my passion in electronic music. On how no one actually wanted to listen to it and how I would become a radio DJ to change everyone’s perception of the music. And when that was done, I thanked the professors and left the school. I wondered whether I did alright.

1/2 a month later, I got my answer.

I was admitted into Wee Kim Wee School of Communication and Information.

And I am home.

I overheard a quote in the city: ‘In Ho Chi Minh, you are nothing without a handphone and motorbike’. True. I often see many of these daredevils balancing both their bikes and conversations at the same time.

The city is chaotic. But the city runs on chaos, almost. Everywhere, people are going somewhere in a rush. Street vendors sell their wares outside Gucci, Armani stores. Rows of dirty shophouses find themselves slowly but surely in the shadow of tall skyscrapers; a disconcerting juxtaposition all in all.

Regrettably, the city itself did not offer up many attractions (except the war remnants museum – a must visit). But like any good city, you can always count on the activity of its people, or in this case people chained to their motor bikes, to provide a harmonious yet mildly discordant soundtrack to the city of Saigon.

The capital city of Cambodia is not very remarkable (but more so then Vientiane) but being the epicentre of a genocide during the civil war, the city has a dark past. At the centre of it all, is Tuol Sleng, better known as S-21.

A former school converted into a place of interrogation and torture, it’s claim to infamy is the fact that out of the 14,000 or so people that went in, only 7 made it out alive.

The building itself is unassuming. Without the sign outside the museum, you wouldn’t have given it a second glance. It looks like any other run down primary school. Except that just 35 years ago, tortured screams from this building punctuated the otherwise silent city.

It is noticeably cooler in the museum compared to the hot and humid city. It is common folklore where there has been death, the environs would be colder. Perhaps it is no coincidence.

The facility has been faithfully maintained the way it was 35 years ago: Stark and bleak. Dry blood stains on the concrete floor that serve as a horrifying reminders, rusty barbed wire that kept the prisoners in and tiny brick and wooden cells made hastily to house them.

Having the black and white portraits of the detainees staring back at you is especially unnerving. A portrait before a certain death.

Though it was mentioned time and time again discouraging the act, various scribbles were found on the wall. Most of them were messages of support, some asked them to put their faith in God. But perhaps the message that struck me, in response to those they asked for more faith, was this: ‘How could this happen if there was a God?’

How indeed. Perhaps even with a God, we are well and truly evil.

After taking a 2 Hr ride on an old school propeller based Lao Airline plane (which was safe AND fun kids!), we arrived at Siem Reap international. Which looked like a Banyan Tree resort. A clear effect of the tourist dollar, it was miles ahead of the national airport at Vientiane. We met up with Kyle (whom we first met in Penang) and Chris, who Kyle met on the bus that night.

Angkor Wat may be the most famous of the structures but it is just one of the many temples. My personal favourite is Bayon, which had 54 towers to represent the 54 provinces under King Jayarayman VII, each with 4 faces of Budhha pointing the 4 directions. Strangely enigmatic and yet calming.

Other famous temples included Ta Phrom, made famous by Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider and Pheah Khan, a quiet temple off the main trail. We did cover a fair bit of ground, choosing to cycle within the compound, covering close to 70km (including 15 in the rain) over 4 days.

But what I will take away from Siem Reap is the voices and faces of children trying to hawk me their wares. A direct effect of tourism to Angkor, Siem Reap is clearly a town built around it’s main attraction. And there hundreds of vendors scream for attention. None as potent as the children, whose persistence keeps their trademark phrases of ‘Only $1′ and ‘But you promised’ fresh in one’s mind.

But 3 places in Vientiane really made it slightly worthwhile.

1: The National Museum in Vientiane looked in disarray when we first entered it but things quickly picked up when we entered the section about ‘American Imperialists’. A side of the story you never hear, the US bombed a large section of southern Laos in a bid to stop the north Vietnamese Army heading south. I too would be pisses if the US bombed a large part of my country in a secret war. It was entertaining and educational to read how the war was won (in Laotian POV of course)

2: That Luang is Laos preeminent Wat and too be honest, though I was sick of Wats by now, a Wat painted in gold does look stunning in the daylight.

3: As if to sum up our experiences at the National Museum, we found after cycling along one of the roads, the COPE museum. COPE is am organization that helps individuals, most of them injured by UXOs (unexploded bombs and such) to live as normal a life as they can. The museum really was well curated and drove home the point that UXOs, especially cluster bombs, are still a major problem in the country. In a country so poor, where 1kg of scrap metal can earn you $2 USD, thousands of children and adults alike are maimed or killed just to earn a living. And the cause of this all? A war of ideologies, where in the end the innocent suffer.

Laos has been a strange mix for me. Undeniably beautiful, yet tragically poor. I do hope the next time i do visit and drink Lao Beer by the Mekong again, the country will fare better.

The effect of the tourist dollar is evident here, but yet it strikes a fine balance of being ‘Laotian’ and touristy.

One reason the city was given it’s UNESCO status was because of it’s brilliant eclectic mix of architecture. From French villas, shop houses and wooden houses on stilts, they complement each other perfectly in a bizarre manner. It is almost as though a part of the French Rivera transported itself to South East Asia. This of course, is an effect of French colonialism in the early 20th century.

Being the previous seat of power in Laos, I had the chance to visit the Royal Palace museum, the former monarchy’s residence before the communists took over.

It is perhaps the single most apt way to describe Prabang and maybe Laos. The palace is nothing more then a one story building in a large courtyard, that is modest and from the exterior, frankly uninteresting. It is only if you choose to venture into the palace, and take time to view and understand the engravings, carvings and artifacts that you understand its beauty best.

After a 2 1/2 hour ride to the border town of Chiang Khorn, followed by another 4 1/2 hour minivan ride we arrived in Luang Nam Tha. First thoughts? Where the @!@$ are we?

North of Laos, Nam Tha is traditionally used as a stopover before people head north to China. But really, it is a street disguised as a town. But with its small size, the smallest town I have visited and stayed in ages in fact, lay it’s advantages.

It meant the lack of tourists; tourists mind you, not travellers. The conversations we had in the two nights in Luang Nam Tha were meaningful, long and engaging. And where else would you be able to debate about life under the stars with an Israeli who has been travelling or 5 years, an overeager French girl who wants to try everything in Laos and a quiet Dutch man.

With nothing else to do really in Luang Nam Tha so we decided to take a trek into the forests. With our guide Noi bringing us in, we had a chance to eat raw beehive (tastes like oatmeal) and a fruit from the forest (that tastes like grape). I even found leeches on my feet, happily sapping blood from me.

After a 4 hour trek, we arrived at Ban Si Dan village. I asked the kids in the village, what did they want to be when they grew up. Their simple answer: to work in the town.

Their simple answer really brought me down to earth. I really am privileged to be able to fly around the world and I want more. But yet, all they want is to work in the town.

The day I learn to be happy with and work with what I have is the day I will be become a better person.