My first break in months @ Genting

Just got back from Genting, and it was fun although the service staff there could not speak English well, which was pretty unforgivable considering it's a hotel. A typical exchange would go like this.

Me: Excuse me, do you know where I can watch the World Cup?
Staff: World Club? (Takes out brochure and points to it - World Club membership)
Me: World Cup! Football! Soccer! Pweet Pweet!
Staff: World Club here, this one.
Me: (muttered under breath) Malaysia, truly Asia.

In the end, I found out where to watch the World Cup, only to witness the Kings of Europe getting their asses handed back to them by a resolute Swiss side. And of course, after the match the Spanish blamed it on a sexy sideline reporter, the girlfriend of the goalkeeper Iker Casillas, who they said distracted him from making the crucial save.

The moment that made the whole pub groan in agony, especially me because I wasted money and sleeping time to watch the match.

Apparently, Iker was guilty of watching this girl, Sara Carbonero. Could you blame him?

Anyway, to me that report is bullshit. If there were a reporter who looked like that watching me play, I would score a hat trick. Even as the goalkeeper.

I also did quite a variety of things other there, like archery, where I spent the better part of an hour shooting 40 arrows at a target and hitting anything but. I learnt two things from that experience. It's very tiring to shoot a bow and arrow, and if I were a caveman, I would starve to death. Give the caveman a bow and arrow, but give me a can opener. Thank you.

After that I gokarted, rollercoastered and bumperboated, and took just about every ride on offer at the theme park that spelt thrill. Pictured above was the corkscrew ride that I took, which was damn awesome, especially at the part where it spirals upside down like three times consecutively, and round it is the gokart track.

The most memorable experience though was the Space Shot.

See that ridiculously high looking tower? Before I went up my cousin was daring me to do it. In the end, I decided to give it a shot. Heck, I mean, what's it anyway, just about 55 metres up right, no big deal, about 10 floors up only.

Actually, I think the push factor was seeing little kids half my age going on that ride. At that moment I felt like if they could do it, what more me.

After queuing for about half an hour, it was my turn. I got myself strapped in with my brother and uncle, waved to my cousins, and up it was. Halfway up, I was like holy shit it really feels freaking high. And damn freaking cold. It was about six in the evening when I went up, and the winds were really strong.

Fuck.

OMG. Fuckkkk.

At the top, it was just insane. If you think its bad enough being that high, imagine what its like to be that high on top of a mountain resort. I could virtually see the rest of the mountain below. Suddenly, I felt really alone and vulnerable. And anyone who has been on that ride will tell you the worst part is the waiting before the drop, knowing that you're about to experience something insane and being able to do nothing about it.

Then the drop. Apparently, you're strapped into a seat, but going down at 67km/h that's the last thing you feel. To me, it felt like I was sitting on a cushion of air plunging down into nowhere, and the rest of the feeling is simply indescribable.

The most glam picture taken mid drop.

The most unglam one. Check out my legs. Damn chio man. I have no idea why I didn't tuck them in but that's something you only ask after the event, when the pictures and video are already taken.

I have to admit that I enjoyed the whole experience a lot, and I would say it actually looks scarier than it actually is. I would advise everyone to take it, because you only live once. If something happens to you, that's why you buy insurance.

Two more shots, just because I have a fascination with night and revolving carousels.

The best moment of the World Cup so far.

Capello: What the f*** is this? Why the keeper so Green one? Like that how to win World Cup?

I have to admit that this whole sequence of events made me LOL at like 3am in the morning.

One year on.

It was a cold night. The pale gleam of the moon washed across the ground, and he found himself standing by a quiet road alone once again, outside the railway station of a small town. He was at odds with himself. He had missed the last bus, and the cabs were too expensive. He was looking at a two mile long trek across unfamiliar territory, in a land where he was a foreigner.

He spent half an hour deliberating, even as the wind started to bite. The cold seeped into his jacket, and his breath fogged in the cool night air, misting up his glasses.

He cursed himself for having stayed out in the big city so late, but it had been difficult for him to leave. He held the place dear for too many reasons. The shopping, the food, the hustle and bustle, and the people. Especially the people. It made him feel at home again, in a place that was his home far away from home. He had missed the last bus, and what followed was a rush to the central railway station, to catch a train back to the small town where he lived.

And now, he paced around. The men in the hoods around the corner were starting to make him nervous. He was small sized by the standards of the place, and he knew that he could not afford to stay around much longer if he was to make it home. He knew two routes home, but the shorter one took him through a whole mile of pitch darkness.

And that was what he chose. Setting off into the night, he quickened his step, hoping to reach home quickly.

As night deepened, the shadows lengthened and the streets became quieter. Occasionally, a car would rush by, sweeping up a clutch of leaves in its wake, and the sound of its passing quickly melded back into the quiet. When he reached the edge of the highway, he saw that it was like what he had expected. The road ahead was pitch black.

He walked into the darkness, and a fear gripped him. He had never walked in such darkness in his life. He stuck out his fingers in front of him, and he realised that he could not see them. He was lucky that the road ran ramrod straight, but even then, he depended on the headlights of oncoming cars for guidance. The headlights, as and when they appeared, would blind him with an intensity that was painful to his eyes, but he hurried his step even more when they appeared, because the illumination they provided would be fleeting, and the sound of their movement assured him that he was not lost.

Halfway through his walk, he looked to his left, and he saw a huge graveyard, covered in snow. An even more uncertain fear gripped his heart, especially when he saw that up ahead lay the entrance, a foreboding stone structure cast in grey, with a scary looking beast perched atop it. Even as he looked left, he saw that the graves stretched as far as the eye could see, although snow covered most of them so that only the tops of their tombstones stuck out. He wondered if anyone cared that he was out here, alone, and so very afraid. He knew deep down that the answer was no, but fought back the inevitable sadness that came along with it. He had to get home.

After walking an unknown number of minutes, he saw a road sign that indicated a branch in the road, into the area of town where he lived. He felt an immense sense of relief, that the directions in the maps of the town he had remembered had not failed him. He quickly settled into a quick jog, and ran into town across a little bridge with wooden rails at the side, and the sight of houses lining a single road on both sides, with mailboxes atop little pickets brought a cheer to him. He knew he was almost home.

It was only then he realised that he was really tired, and the backpack on his back was starting to feel really heavy. He also realised that he hadn't had any dinner, but there was nothing in the fridge back home. Dinner would once again be a packet of chips and two chocolate bars, washed down with water from the sink, or one of the bottles of beer he kept on his windowsill.

He kept on walking, past several streets that all looked the same, rows of houses with mailboxes out front. Not a single person was on the streets, and if he didn't know better, he would have assumed that it was a ghost town. A strange white gleam flooded the street. He looked up, and saw that the moon was out full tonight.

Crossing a roundabout and walking up a road, he saw the familiar sight of the university guardhouse. He flashed his identity card, walked in, and that was it. Half an hour and a two mile trek later, he was home.