Big Little Secrets

It’s been forever since I last posted, but it’s for good reason I promise.

Many of you already know this, but I am…drumroll please…pregnant!

Omg, what a relief to say that out loud! I’ve waited over three months to share this news. Three painful, agonizing months of keeping a secret this big to myself. And now that it’s out, I can finally share all the stuff that I learned these past three months.

#1- Why doesn’t everyone wear maternity clothes? Why wear anything else, ever? It is the most comfortable thing! No more sucking in your stomach for photos, or having to unzip your pants after a big meal. Get yourself some whether you are pregnant or not, trust me.

#2- Dollar store pregnancy tests are just as accurate as brand name ones, and have a pee cup so you don’t have to bend over with your butt in the air, trying to catch the pee on a tiny stick, inevitably getting pee all over your hands. Take a few tests if you are skeptical. Even if you buy 10 it’ll still cost significantly less than the price of one brand name test!

#3- Baby showers have a poor ROI. I recently attended someone else’s baby shower, and it seems to be that the amount of money your friends spend on throwing you the shower significantly outweighs the cost of the shitty onesies that you will receive. Which is why I do not plan to have a baby shower. Just send me the money directly.

In all seriousness though, being pregnant for the first time brings a lot of surprises. Being pregnant in itself was the biggest surprise. I mean, I am of “advanced maternal age” according to all of my medical reports, and guys these days tend have to low sperm counts because of all the shit we put in our bodies. We were basically prepared for the fact that if it happens it happens, if it doesn’t? Well, we’re just gonna have to wait for a tragic accident to befall one of our good friends and hope that they trust us enough to leave in our care their already toilet-trained babies.

In addition, I didn’t know you were supposed to track your ovulation cycles on a stick. I didn’t measure my body temperature (we don’t even own a thermometer). We didn’t research the positions to do it in. Anyway, let’s just say that if getting pregnant was class, we were the students at the back, texting and paying attention to anything but the teacher.

The only thing I did do was read a lot of porn. Sorry, I mean erotic literature. I can’t stand watching porn, it’s way too…mechanical you know? Like am I supposed to be aroused by these nameless faceless genitals? Gimme some backstory. When they did first realize they liked each other? What were the obstacles that were holding them back? What got them to finally succumb to their desires? I can’t even say that was entirely for babymaking, but more for my own pleasure. 😉

Anywho, it seems that this kind of lasseiz-faire, que sera sera thinking was the recipe for conception. I have heard similar stories of couples who tried hard for a long time, but once they took the pressure off of themselves, that’s when it happened. But don’t quote me on it. I am by no means a M.D. I’m just another internet troll who thinks they know everything.

Yes, it’s true that pregnant women are snobs. After seeing my baby on the ultrasound, I felt like a goddamn superhero. Move over Einstein! Sure you won the Nobel prize, but can you grow a human being inside YOUR uterus?

So my fellow snobby mommies, what are some words of pearls of wisdom that you are dying to share now that you’ve been through it all? Hit me up below!

Xoxo,

Princess (soon to be mama) Kathleen the 3rd

Turning 37

I woke up on the morning of my 37th birthday one year older, with two new grey hairs, and aches in places that had never ached before.

And they say age is just a state of mind. 

I don’t quite remember turning 30. When I was in my early thirties I still felt pretty much the same as I did when I was in my twenties. Unlimited energy, an insatiable appetite for going out (to do what? It didn’t matter), always on the hunt for a good time. My nickname in college was the “Energizer Bunny” because I could just “keep going, and going and going…” In my early thirties, my battery tank was probably still over 90% full. 

Now that I’m officially in my late thirties, almost overnight, I have noticed a marked difference. One: my energy level dropped to half of what it used to be, and two: I have become more crotchety and have started complaining about the things I used to love. 

Like traveling, I now find it so much more hassle than it’s worth! For example, if you go somewhere for a long weekend, you lose at least two days just on the commute, so that’s really just one day of actual vacationing. And when you’re back, you’re so tired from all the traveling that you now need a vacation FROM your vacation. Now I’m really glad that I got to travel in my twenties, but I’ve also encountered some really bad flights that make you grab the stranger next to you and make them swear to find your parents if they make it out alive. So now I have a severe case of aerophobia. Every time I fly I pack myself a small suitcase worth of Ativan, but then can’t seem to take any because I’m afraid that I won’t be of lucid mind when the plane takes a nosedive and I have to parachute myself to safety. 

In my late twenties to early thirties, if the FBI ever called me up to go undercover at a high school, I could convincingly pass for a teenager. But now I’m not so sure anymore. One time J and I went to the liquor store, and the cashier asked to see some IDs. So we both went digging in our wallet when she put up a hand to stop me. “Not you!” She pointed at me, “I need to see HIS ID.” She gestured to J. “YOU are CLEARLY old enough!” She then threw her head back and started howling with laughter like it was so ridiculous that someone could mistake me for under 21.

I’d like to think that this is an accurate depiction of what I look like

So yes, do I have a little insecurity about aging? Definitely. Who among us isn’t a little worried. If everyone just aged gracefully, millions of workers in the plastic industry would be out of a job. Looks don’t bother me as much as the sudden lack of control of my organs. Last month, I had to run out in the middle of a staff meeting because I took a deep breath and my saliva somehow went down the wrong pipe and I started choking violently on my own spit. This happens at least once a week. And another time I fell asleep after a couple of drinks with friends. In the middle of the night, I had to pee badly, so I got up to go to the toilet. Then the next morning I found out that the getting up part was entirely in my dreams…

On the other hand, I do enjoy being more confident and less apologetic. I find myself speaking up more in meetings, whereas in my twenties I always kept quiet as a mouse, assuming that everyone else knew better than I did. But now I realized that a lot of people are either lazy or incompetent, whereas I actually know my shit and now I’m not afraid to show it. 

My New Year’s resolution is to learn to embrace being older. There’s the benefit of being wiser, I like to impart my wisdom to younger people whether they ask for it or not. Also, spending less money because I go out less, which does not benefit the economy but is definitely good for the planet!

What else do you love about getting older? Let me know in the comments!

Until next time,

Xoxo Princess Kathleen

Productive Women

In a previous post, I mentioned wanting to pick up some hobbies. One: because I have the time. Two: because I don’t want to become a boring person that just complains all day because they got nothing else going on in their lives (I may or may not be referring to a coworker that I cannot stand).

So in an effort to become a more interesting person, I signed up for Guitar lessons, then Latin dance lessons, bought some pickleball gear, and I’m also considering taking a 3-month-long Community Theatre class. It’s as if I’m making up for lost time, signing all the extracurriculars my parents couldn’t afford when we moved to Canada. 

And maybe because I am an immigrant, but I can’t help but hear a little nagging voice at the back of my head that says I shouldn’t be wasting time with hobbies. That these hobbies are essentially just cost centers with no revenue-generating abilities, though that may be the ex-accountant in me talking. And the woman in me feels guilty indulging in hobbies when I could be doing something more productive, like advancing my career, picking up a side hustle, or even… cleaning.

Not that I keep a tidy house or anything, I just have a lot of guilt about it. I have the Catholic guilt without being Catholic.

Do other women feel this way? That you are never doing enough? That you could always be a little more productive? (I define “productive” as things that contribute to the entire household either financially or physically.) Maybe everyone has this issue, I just never heard of a man complain of feeling guilty about playing video games, or golfing or whatever else men do that’s purely recreational.

Even with sex, I’ve learned that I enjoy sex the most when we are trying for a baby. It’s like “YES! Might have just made a human being. Now that’s productivity!” *High-five!*

Is it really a coincidence that the word “Reproductive” has “Productive” in it? Or did a woman invent this word?

Anyway, I don’t know where this need to be constantly productive comes from, but if I had to blame someone it’d probably be my mother. She used to yell at me to “look alive!” if I even so much as yawned. Her catchphrase was “干点正事儿!” which roughly translates to “Do something productive!”, which I later learned was something my grandmother often said to her. And it made sense back then, my grandma definitely could not have afforded to take a self-care day while raising 5 children during the Great Chinese Famine. Oh, and did I mention that she was also a single mother? 

So yeah, she didn’t have hobbies. Her day was one hundred percent productive.

As for me? Well, let’s see… a week has 168 hours? I probably spend about 50 of those sleeping, another 50 hours at work, and at most 30 hours on household chores including walking the dog, so that means roughly 38 hours are used recreationally on things like hobbies, watching Netflix, and going out, ie. all “non-productive” things. So that works out to be about 20% of recreation time. Hmm…Not sure if that’s a lot or just about right…

So help me out here, what % of your time do you spend on “productive” activities and what % is spent on recreational activities? Let me know so I can compare myself to other people and decide whether to feel more or less guilty.

Until next time.

Xoxo,

Princess Kathleen

Giveaway Time!

In my last post, I talked about my first ever expereince with a dating app, now I’d like to hear from you, the readers. Since there are probably only 3 people reading this, your chances of winning are pretty good.

• Have you used dating apps before to find love or friendship? 
• How did it work out for you? 
• Tell me about the best or worst experience you had on a dating app.

Since it’s almost Christmas, the best comment wins a personalized care package from me!

Contest closes Nov 7th.

So I signed up for a dating app

It’s not what you think. 

Remember how I said I was hungry for friendship? Well, desperate times call for desperate measures.

Apparently dating apps now have functions for friend-making. Most of you may already know this, but it’s all news to me because I’m still stuck in the flip phone era. God I miss my Nokia, that thing was indestructible!

Anyway, I have never used a dating app before, not even FOR DATING. So I was pretty resistant to the idea of using an app to find friendship. “Friends should be made organically!” *shakes fist*

However, when you move to a new city in your thirties, most people your age already have a solid friend group (and are not taking new members), or they have hobbies (which we’ve already established that I don’t), or they have children (and make friends with other people who have children). You soon realize that the choices are either to get some children, join a sports team, or join a dating app.

So I made a profile on Bumble BFF.

It took me a while to figure out which directions to swipe, but once I got used to it, I was swiping like a fruit ninja (older millennials will know this reference), giving each profile no more than two seconds of my suddenly shortened attention span.

Let’s see who we have today.

Blonde, head-to-toe Lululemon, big into self-improvement. What on earth could we possibly have in common? *Swipes left*

Interest: astrology. Next! *Swipes left*

Doesn’t drink? Forget it.*Swipes left*

Too good looking. Way out of my league. *Swipes left*

Too tall. *Swipes left*

Too skinny. *Swipes left*

Hmm, she’s cute. *Swipes right*

Wait a minute…why do I care if she’s cute or not? *Scratches head in confusion*

Anyway, after a week of being on the app, a realization dawned on me: I probably would not be friends with most of the people I know had I met them on a dating app. Apparently, the only people I swipe right on are people who look exactly like me and like the exact same stuff as me. 

I probably should have deleted it because the app somehow made me judgemental and insecure at the same time. However, something kept drawing me back. It’s almost as if someone designed it to be extremely addictive on purpose.

After numerous conversations that went nowhere and a couple of really “interesting” meet-ups, I did eventually find some gal pals, who all happen to be people of color. I guess beautiful blonde girls find me just as repulsive as I find them? And now armed with the knowledge of my inherent biases, I’ve set out to grow as a human being. So instead of judging people solely on superficial things, like race or looks, I’ve changed my criteria to something more substantial: geography. 

At this point in my life, I really don’t care what you look like or what your political stance is, the only thing that matters to me is that you live no more than 5 km away Because let’s face it, I’m in my thirties, I’m lazy, and I really don’t want to drive more than 10 minutes to meet you.

Until next time,

Xoxo, Kathy

Epilogue

This may come as a surprise to many people but J and I actually are very different people.

I’m an extrovert, he’s an introvert. I’m a cat person, he’s a dog person. I like hiking, whereas he’d rather be on the couch climbing mountains in the Legend of Zelda. There are so many ways that we are different, so it’s not always easy to find activities that we both enjoy, but if we look beyond the surface, there is at least one thing that we have in common… and that is our love of Romantic Comedies! From She’s All That to When Harry Met Sally, we’ve seen them all.

So I thought it’d be totally appropriate on this day to summarize our journey so far as if it were a Rom-Com. I may have had a few drinks writing this so it seemed like a good idea at the time, but here we go anyways.

Everyone knows that a Rom-Com always starts with a Meet-Cute. Our Meet-Cute happened on a street corner in Shanghai. We were both in our 20s, and living our best lives in this bustling city. You were on your way back from a beer festival with your friend Mick and I was with my friend Helen on the way to a karaoke party, when suddenly Helen saw Mick. Helen had a huge crush on Mick, so she waved him down and invited you both to come along with us. But this is not their story, because Mick changed his mind and took off but you decided to stay. I didn’t pay you much attention at first but you won me over with your ability to belt out classics like Oops I did it Again and Baby One More Time. 

Despite a notoriously bad first date, where you invited me over for wine and cheese, but didn’t offer me any wine… or cheese, something kept drawing me back to you. Before I knew it, for the first time in my life, I was in love. 

Our story reached a Turning Point after just a few months. Prior to meeting each other, we both had made plans to leave Shanghai in pursuit of other career paths. So we had to decide:  was this just a fling or… something more?

Spoiler alert! It was more than just a fling.

So today we stand here, having reached what would be considered the Final Resolution of our story. I just want to take this opportunity to say that I am extremely grateful. 

Grateful that we were both STUPID enough to give long-distance a try. Grateful that even after 5 years apart, we still chose each other. Grateful that we continue to choose each other despite all the conflicts that have come our way since.

I also want to say thank you. Thank you for always pushing our relationship further. Thank you for taking care of all the annoying stuff that I hate, like fixing up the house, finances, and cooking! And psstt, thank you for putting up with my mother.

But most of all… Thank you for giving me the greatest love story of my life. 

I don’t believe in happy endings, but I do believe in Happy Beginnings. Because I think our love story is good enough and they would want to make sequels out of it. In fact, they’d make it into a franchise like those Marvel movies. 

And I can’t wait to see all that there is to come in the DJverse.

– K’s Wedding Speech to J.

Chp 80- The End

Can’t believe we actually arrived at this chapter. I didn’t think I’d finish writing, because you know…finishing things are hard. I’d like to thank my fans for sticking it out with me. Last time I checked there was at least one person still reading this blog and to that person, I say: “It’s the end of an era!!!” (That person was my high school lab partner and a die-hard Friends fan, so she knows what I’m talking about.)

*If you are new to the blog, then boy am I jealous of you! You can start the journey afresh from here: Chapter 1- I used to be an accountant.

I don’t think I want this “era” to end, but here we go anyways…

Chapter 80- The end of an Era

This time last year I was so sure that I wanted to leave Shanghai. Now that the time is finally here, I wasn’t so certain anymore. I mean where else could I live like an Egyptian princess on a school teacher’s salary? What other cities in the world would I be considered special just because I spoke English? In China, I’m an ABB -Asian but Better. In Canada, I’m just an A.

There was also the fact that I’m leaving behind the love of my life. Who knows when I’ll get to see Johan again. Maybe in a year? Maybe never??? I was seriously starting to regret my life choices and the only thing that was stopping me from canceling the flight was my equally powerful tendency to avoid immediate unpleasant experiences such as calling customer service, at all cost.

Having never been good at goodbyes, I tried to distract myself by thinking about anything but the inevitable.

“What do you want to eat?” I asked Johan once we landed in Pudong airport.

“I’m not very hungry right now.” He answered, barely able to keep his eye open.

Fair enough, we have been in transit for more than 12 hours.

“Pistolera should be open soon.” I brought it up again once we were in a taxi.

“I don’t know if I can handle Mexican food this early.”

“Well, we could just order in from Sherpas.” I was nothing if not considerate.

“Let’s take a nap first then decide?” He smiled and squeezed my hand. Translation: please shut up.

“Ok.” I agreed begrudgingly.

Johan fell into bed the minute we got into the apartment. I laid down next to him and he wrapped me in a warm embrace.

“You know…” I whispered after a few minutes. “I could just pop down to Family Mart and grab those curry fish balls you like so much.”

“Did I say you? I meant me. Hah hah.” I turned to face Johan, but he was already asleep.

Ok, nap first but then we REALLY need to replenish our nutrients. I closed my eyes and dreamed of tacos and carrot cake.

When I opened my eyes, the sun had already started to set.  Johan was sleeping like a baby, so I didn’t have the heart to wake him up. Ok, another half hour, then it’ll be dinner time. That means I could eat two meals in one. Chicken or steak? Both, please!

When I woke up again I felt groggy and disoriented. I must have been more tired than I thought.

“Chicken Fajitas…” I mumbled incoherently.

“What?” Johan asked, coming out of the bathroom.

“I said… What do you want for dinner?” I repeated myself.

“Hon…” He replied, “It’s 10am…”

I hated when he called me “hon”. That’s what elderly ladies say. Any other terms of endearment will do, “Babe”, “Darling”, “Xena Warrior Princess”…

“Wait…what?” I jumped up from the bed. Because if it’s the next morning that means…I’m leaving for the airport in… one hour!

“You were sleeping so soundly I didn’t have the heart to wake you.” Johan walked over and wrapped his arms around me. “I can’t believe you are leaving already…”

“No time to talk!” I broke from his embrace. “I need to finish packing!” It was unlike me to leave packing until the last minute, but I assumed we’d have yesterday as well.

Panic packing turned out to be the perfect distraction. If I thought about leaving Johan, I would surely start crying. I have nothing against crying. In fact, I love crying. Sometimes I put on sad music and cry just because it’s Tuesday.

The problem is, once I start crying, I simply can’t stop! And I don’t cry like a Disney princess, who shed exactly 3 teardrops and look more radiant than before. No, I cry like SpongeBob Square Pants. Ugly, snotty and explosive. 

Which make sense for him since he’s a sponge that lives underwater. But it’s just not how I want to spend our last moments together.

Soon enough I hear a loud knocking on the door. It was to inform me that my ride to the airport was here. So Johan and I lugged my suitcases into the elevator and went downstairs.

Goodbye apartment.

There was a lot of stuff between my coworkers and me, but thanks to the skills of our driver we were able to squeeze it all in. Soon there was nothing left to do but say goodbye.

Goodbye School.

Everyone got into the taxi and it became just the two of us. I could feel the pressure rising up in my throat. Uh oh SpongeBob.

“Ok, bye!” I gave Johan a quick hug and tried to get in the taxi.

“Wait…” He grabbed my hand, not willing to let me leave like this.

He looked into my eyes with his big puppy dog eyes and said “I’m gonna miss you.” and then he kissed me.

Oh boy… Here come the waterworks….Any minute now.

Eventually, I managed to stop thinking and relaxed into his arms. When we finally broke apart, I looked into Johan’s face one last time. All I could remember was that he looked sad. And I finally allowed myself to feel sad too.

“I’m gonna miss you too.” I murmured as my eyes well up.

“Goodbye….” He let go of my hand.

Goodbye Johan.

Goodbye Shanghai.

See you next time.

Chp 79 Malaysia Trip (Part 5)

Trails of laughter could be heard whenever I passed by and frankly, I didn’t blame them. What a comical sight I must have been. My mini skirt flying up to reveal my undies. My flip-flops making loud pitter-patter sounds against the marble floor as I frantically made my way through the terminal. In my defense, if I had known that I would be running through a Malaysian airport at midnight trying to catch my connecting flight because the first one was delayed, I would have made entirely different wardrobe choices.

Just as I was about to black out, a sudden burst of energy came over me. Partly due to my need to be on time, but mostly because I didn’t want to pay for another flight.  I felt weightless as my legs propelled me faster than ever before. This must be what people refer to when they say “Catching a second wind”. Or something like that. I wouldn’t know. I’ve never voluntarily chosen to run for my life before.

Skirt flying even higher, I start to gain speed and quickly caught up to Johan, who clearly ran too fast too quickly. I felt a perverse sense of superiority.

“Want me to wait???” I offered as I sped past him without stopping.

“Keep going!” He yelled breathlessly. “Just tell them…to wait…when you get to…the…gate”

“Ok.” I said as I kept running. Feeling like Superman or Wonder Woman. Whichever one was faster.

I see it! I can see the gate! My $5 flip-flops were literally tearing my toes apart but I didn’t notice. I was running so fast that I could no longer feel below my waist. A thought suddenly popped into my head that if I took a fall now, my face would be mangled beyond recognition. All I could think about after that was ‘Please don’t fall. Please don’t fall.’

“Aaaaaaggghhhhh” a Hulk-ish roar came out as I made a sudden stop to avoid smacking into a glass. What I mistook for the gate turned out to be glass barriers of the train tracks.

Of course… I should have known! If we made it on the plane this easily, it would have been boring. Clearly, this trip was based on the plot of a cheap Netlfix comedy, made simply to entertain people who just want a cheap laugh on a Friday night.

And so despite my best Wile E Coyote effort, I had to wait patiently for an airport train that would arrive in 5 minutes to take us to the actual gate. Which felt like forever when you were already half an hour late.

To this day, I never understood why the plane didn’t just take off without us (must have been the Malaysian hospitality). But it waited and waited until we finally arrived, 45 minutes late. I’ve never had to experience the “Walk of Shame” until then, and my cheeks burned as I walked down the aisle filled with angry (and understandably so) passengers.  Even though I didn’t see it directly, I could feel the shaking of heads in my peripheral vision.

When we finally made it to our seat, the first thing I said to Johan was “From now on, I book the flights!”

Chapter 78- Malaysia Part 4 (aka. will it never end?)

Imagine this: You’re on a boat with your lover, watching fireflies light up around you like a Christmas tree. It’s the most romantic thing in the world.

Except he’s dying.

At least he looks like he’s dying.

Mesmerized by millions of these winged twinkle stars, it felt as if I was right in the middle of the Milky Way galaxy.

“ Look! I caught one!” I carefully opened my palms to show Johan.

He struggled to lift his head up and mumbled a word of approval before nodding off again. I whispered to him not to fall asleep.

“I really have to pee…” He whispered back weakly, his lips the color of ash.

“I know…just hold on.” I comforted him while attempting to prop his head up so he doesn’t pass out.

We’ve been on this boat for an hour as part of the package tour deal. While he continued to sip the water I brought, his body seemed unable to retain liquids. Which only exacerbated his heat stroke.

By the time we made it to shore, he’s looking worse than I’ve ever seen him.

By the time we made it back to the hotel, he could barely speak.

—

I laid him down on the bed and watched him shiver under two layers of blanket. Having the least clue of how to deal with this I started to google heatstroke symptoms on WebMD.

“Heat stroke is also sometimes referred to as heatstroke or sun stroke. Severe hyperthermia is defined as a body temperature of 104 F (40 C) or higher.”

*Feels Johan’s forehead*

Holy fuck!

“Heat stroke is a true medical emergency that is often fatal if not properly and promptly treated.”

Holy double fuck!

I immediately ran to the bathroom and got him a cool towel like WebMD instructed.

I put it on his forehead and attempted to talk to him. He’s so out of it by this point that he can only whimper back.

I started to pace around the room, firing rapid words of comfort to him, but more so to myself. I rummaged through the mini fridge, using cold beers to cool his burning body down, but his condition continued to decline.

Fuck this! He needs a doctor!

I ran down to the lobby and frantically tried to explain the situation to the concierge.

“Is there a clinic nearby? Hospital??? ER???” I rambled on desperately.

“There is a hospital…but very far.” He look sincere but helpless.

“Oh my God…” I buried my head in my hands. “But my boyfriend…he’s burning up!”

“Ma’am… I’m not sure what I can do. There’s nothing near by…The hospital is quite far, you would have to call a cab…and then it’s maybe 30 minutes from here…”

“Nevermind!” I cut him off, knowing that if the hospitals were anything like China we wouldn’t get service until the morning. What with the paper work, our lack of ability to speak the local language and not to mention lack of travel insurance. The journey would only make Johan worse not better.

“Do you at least have a thermometer???” I asked as a last attempt.

“No…I’m sorry…”

I ran out of the lobby before he could finish.

Back in the room, John looked slightly better with the cold towel on his head. Out of options, I took every towel we had in the room and drenched it in cold water. I put the towels in the mini fridge then placed them all over his body. Hand towels on his neck. Bath towels on his chest. Pillowcases on his stomach.

Not knowing what else to do. I laid down beside him waited…. And waited…

“I love you…” I whispered in his ear.

There was no response except for a whimper.

“Please be ok.” I stroked his cheek and begged. “Please…”

I stayed up the rest of the night to freshen his towels.

Drench in water. Refrigerate. Place on body. Repeat.

—

When I opened my eyes I was assaulted by a blinding light that poured through the unshaded windows. I didn’t intend to fall asleep, but I must have because the sun was already up and for a moment I forgot where I was.

I look over at Johan’s still figure and suddenly remembered.

Saying a quick prayer, I opened my eyes and tentatively looked over once more. I saw his chest rising up and down, and just to be sure I placed my finger under his nose.

Oh thank God. He was still alive.

An hour or so later he woke up. Still weak but looking much better than before.

“Drink!!!” I thrusted a cup of water in front of his face.

After a few more cups of water, his color started to return and he no longer looked like the crypt keeper.

“What happened?” He asked, appearing more energetic by the second.

“You had a bit of fever last night…” Suddenly feeling silly at how much I freaked out last night.

“Mmmmmm…” Was all he could say as he continued to guzzle water like a camel in the desert.

Feeling calm now the worst was over, I was finally able to think of something else.

“So… what do you wanna do today?” I asked casually, sensing that the storm has passed.

“Hmm…” He said as he leafed through the hotel brochures of Kota Kinabalu. “ Ohhhhh! How about Deep sea diving???”

“Oh Hellllllllllll No!” Was all I could say.

Chapter 77-Malaysia (Part 3)

“Dizziness, nausea, disorientation…You’re either having a heat stroke or you’re pregnant.” I diagnosed Johan with the confidence from years of training at WebMD.

“That would explain the tenderness of breast.” Johan joked back weakly.

“Are you sure you still want to go?” I asked as we were about to board the bus to the music festival.

“I’ll be fine.” Johan promised. “Don’t worry about me and just have a good time.”

“Well, at least drink more water” I handed him a bottle and watched him drain it in one breath.

Johan looked worse and worse as the day went on. The festival was entirely outdoors, and under a blazing hot sun. The “Rainforest” was not nearly  as cool and rainy as the name suggested. We took refuge under tents, indoor food stalls, and hopped strategically from tree to tree for shade.

Luckily there was a particular stall that sold coconut water instead of just beer. Johan remembered from a trip to Vietnam that coconut water was basically nature’s Gatorade, excellent for electrolytes and hydrates better than water. I made a mental note to remember that the next time somebody have a heat stroke. Or just very hung over.

Soon Johan recovered enough to somewhat enjoy himself. Neither of us were huge fans of “World Music”, but it was nice to chill out to nice beats and feast our eyes of the beauty around us. This was a nice contrast from the concrete jungle we were used to.

Eventually we found a nice shaded area next to a river and laid down for a rest. I held Johan’s hands and watched him drift off into a much needed nap. It must have been days since he got a good night’s sleep with the travelling and not to mention…the bed bugs. I shuddered at the thought.

I must have fallen asleep as well, because it was significantly darker when I opened my eyes. I sat up and noticed a girl standing across the deck with a camera. She saw me looking and made her way over.

“I hope you don’t mind that I took a picture.” She explained shyly. “You guys just looked so… peaceful.”

I didn’t mind since she was far away enough that even if I looked ugly sleeping, you probably couldn’t tell.

“No problem.” I smiled at her. “Frankly I’d like to get a copy of the picture. Couldn’t have staged it better myself.” I gestured to our beautiful surrounding.

“Oh of course, this place is just gorgeous isn’t it?”

She introduced herself as Vanessa and this is her first time in Kuching as well. She travelled quite a bit as a fashion blogger, and said that even though she grew up here, the beauty of her country still managed to amaze her. Johan woke up just as a friend of Vanessa’s joined as well. So for awhile, we all sat  and chatted as Vanessa occasionally snapped pictures of the scenery.

This is another thing I really enjoyed about travelling; that you can meet people from all walks of life and become instant friends. Everyone is just open and eager to hear eachother’s stories, bonded by the fact that we are all strangers in a new place. At home I would rarely give strangers a second glance, lest they think I’m a creep or a thief. Because that’s what I would think.

As the sun start to set and the temperature become comfortably cool, we decided to walk around and explore the different stages. All the trees and foot paths were lit up with multicolored lights. Heineken balloons floated brightly overhead just in case anyone had any doubt about who was the sponsor. The whole place looked like an ethereal wonderland that only existed in story books. The musicians created equally heavenly tunes and just as in a fairy tale, my prince took my hand and twirled me to the music. For the rest of the night, we laughed and danced as the sky turned from pink and purple to a dark navy blue.

Sometimes I have trouble living in the moment. A problem that I’m sure plagues me and only me. Sometimes I worry so much that I can’t even enjoy what’s supposed to be enjoyable. And vacations are supposed to be enjoyable. But throughout this trip there was always a sense of dread simmering underneath the surface. I dreaded the end of this trip, because that meant the end of our time together. All this dreading made it hard to enjoy out time together now, and this trip hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park. However, in that moment, dancing beneath a blanket of stars, it was hard to hold on to those thoughts. Drunk on the atmosphere and maybe the Heineken, all the voices in my head stopped, at least momentarily.

And sometimes not thinking is the best thing you can do.

*Disclaimer: I was not paid by Heineken to write this post. Believe me, I wish I was.