Kelong

Now suffering from Kelong Withdrawal Symptoms. Came back to Singapore at 10.30 this morning, and reached home an hour later, and because amazingly I managed 28 hours with only 40min of sleep on the kelong and the previous day, I've slept the better part of Easter afternoon away. Woke up just now to start to prepare to go to church, and it's doubly depressing because it's not morning, and not Saturday. But the trip was grand stuff.

Much of what happened on the kelong was eerily similar with the last time. Heh, we practically went to the same place...the kelong from two years ago was the neighbour of the one where we stayed at yesterday night. It had the usual stuff...open toilets, partitions with enormous sleeping platforms, a back porch for barbecues and a bouncing dock, with a finger pier stickling out into the water. And inside, a karaoke set and mahjong =P Three seafood meals (Heaven!), with the barbecue including sambal stingray (ecstasy!). This time, the kelong didn't have so much open air space, however. I got the impression that this place was smaller, more cramped than the other. But nothing out of the ordinary, really.

But of course this time there's the difference of there being no family (or rather there was only the very extended Neo family around, which you could say were blood relations a few dozen times removed...) and lots of friends instead. This is basically the reverse of the situation two years ago...this time it was not a family retreat, but a sort of class chalet thing. And that, of course, changed everything.

There were three couples in our group of thirteen, which was rather unfortunate for Soph, the fourth girl. Heh, it was a tad awkward, I guess, because on this overnight thing there was no privacy, and anyway, they weren't planning to be unobtrusive. Which meant that they attracted a lot of flak from the seven singles. It is really easy to join in the good-natured teasing, though I still maintain that what they do with themselves is their own business, as long as they don't impinge on anyone (And we were so indulgent...our entire sleeping platform was given up to the use of two couples =P). It was interesting to observe, at any rate. Sometimes they could have been on a totally different kelong, what with their absorption in more immediate concerns...and sometimes it is quite sweet. Like when they fell asleep together - one guy was hugging his girl; the other was hugging my guitar (first time I saw someone fall asleep in midstrum) =P

Anyway, it was a really interesting night. Mark trying to disguise his more...undesirable traits, Chun Long (trying) to fish with his rod and reel specially bought for the occasion, and then dinner in which Mark didn't know how to peel prawns, and Soph didn't know how to eat chili crab (inconceivable as it were). That night, a heck of a lot of mahjong, but it wasn't my night. Ben and Ian won three times in a row, and with so many flowers that it was quite spooky. Bathing after midnight in the female toilet (because it had the most water - and anyway, what's there to differentiate a male hole in the wooden deck with a female one?), with the ice-cold water shocking me awake and refreshing my adrenaline batteries (maybe that's how I managed without all that sleep...)

The singles plus Mark (because rather unfortunately Chern came down with an inconvenient fever and had to sleep most of the night away) went right to the end of the finger pier after midnight to sing, and our yodeling probably ruined the fishing on the nearby floating dock =P It was quite funny, trying to remember all those golden oldies by the Carpenters, the Beatles, Abba and so on. Eventually everyone was nodding off an it was only me and Kats still yowling away to the full moon hanging above us, so we knew it was time to go back in for a stimulating session of mahjong.

The dock, though, must be my favourite place of the whole kelong. It was floating, which meant that you could feel the moving sea, and you could also stick yr feet into the seawater (and whatever the kelong throws into it...better not to think about it =P), and at night it was the darkest place on the kelong that was not underwater. First was chatting with Soph about big philosophical life issues at the end of the dock, like what to do when we grow up, how we would like to die, and whether our feet would be attacked by sharks or crocs lurking under the kelong =P And then we were reading Oranges are Not the Only Fruit on our backs on the dock; the cream-coloured page forms a really good contrast with the blue sky white-feathered. And then like after midnight the entire single troupe plus Mark was gathered at the dock's end discussing the Seven Deadly Sins, for want of something better to talk about.

Hmm...it is interesting how love works among us. We had three couples on the kelong, each one with their own way of loving, and then there's those that have broken up saying that we should not get into a serious relationship. How is it that when you're attached you would recommend it to everyone, and then when you're single again your opinion on the subject gets turned around totally? Of course, everyone should try everything once, loving included. But I would feel under pressure to show intimacy if I were attached an in the kelong environment. Every touch and isolated talk (because if a couple was together, it was impolitic to be in the same general vicinity; hence the sleeping platform) would attain a new pressure of obligation, intended or no. The bottom line is that you'd be expected, and you will, act differently with who is basically one of your soulmates. And all this confirms my GUT (grand unified theory, as Winterson would point out) feeling that being attached just adds a lot of formalities and unnecessary pressures to a deep friendship. Being attached seems like a heck of a lot of unwonted trouble.

Heh, which I guess would explain why these kelong trips always seem to have a solitary element to them. Ironically enough, in the cramped and intimate settings of the kelong, I feel more of a need to be alone sometimes. Firstly there was the sketch to do (not as good as the one from the other kelong, I think...but Thong borrowed my book to sketch too, so nice pictures resulted from the trip anyway =P), and then I was on the dock at midnight doing a rosary to mark the Easter vigil. Hehheh, it was really funny because Cheriel popped by and was quite anxious about my wellbeing.

SHE: What are you doing? Are you all right? What are you thinking of? Are you contemplating suicide?
ME: I'm doing a rosary.
SHE: Uh...
ME: I'm praying.
SHE: Why?! Or let me rephrase the question. Why are you praying?
ME: Because it's Easter.
SHE: Oh... (bounces off the dock)

Ah, bless that girl, she was trying to sell tissue in aid of the RG Tsunami Fund all through the trip. Even her persistence (or stubbornness) is endearing =P

And then at sunrise, I was basically the only one awake to watch the moon set and the sky turn red from the East. It's always a sight to behold, that period of time when the sun hasn't broken through the cloud cover, but bleeds all over the underbellies of the clouds and then smears the highest clouds outwards away from it into broad featherstrokes of red on turquoise. That's my favourite time of sunrise, when all the colours are visible, and you can look without burning your eyes. The unfortunate thing was that I was the only one awake; tried to wake Mark so he could take advantage of a quiet romantic moment, but in the end everyone preferred to sleep =S Ah well. Being on the dock alone, at midnight and sunrise, has its own appeal. With your eyes closed, you can feel the sway of the live ocean, and feel the wind cocooning you entirely, and it's like a cradle, one of those sarongs in which babies are rocked to sleep, except colder. It creates its own tranquility, the gentle rocking of the dock and the plash of water. It is a pity no one else was awake to appreciate it, but then again, this kind of thing is probably best appreciated alone.

But we couldn't see the stars, which was an enormous drawback. It was a cloudy night, and though the disc of the moon was visible enough (full moon last night), only a few stars were visible. And approaching morning, the clouds parted to reveal lots more stars, but the kelong was so brightly lit up that there was nowhere dark enough to see anything spectacular. In my efforts to catch the stars out I was running all over the kelong looking for the darkest spot, and in the end I got into the docked bumboat, but there was no nice viewing angle to be had anywhere. On a futile search for glimpses of stars on four hundred square metres of planks and piles in the seabed mud.

But the kelong brought back all sorts of romantic notions of the sea. Spent the entire trip out and back on the bumboats on the aft deck with Soph, and on occassion a suntanning Kats and a sketching Thong. The wind in your hair when you stand up, the swaying of the little boat and the unpredictable splashes of water are positively Conradian =P Soph and I were having a competition of who could get wetter from the spray. Heh, even thinking of it now invokes a swaying sensation, and the screen starts to tilt.

It was cool to be back at sea again, and so close to it, and with so many good people. It was a different kind of experience from the last time, to be sure, but there's nothing bad in newness inherently. We should go back again! The next time we're planning a class chalet, go to a kelong instead. I got quite a few pics on the digicam, and I will upload as fast as possible. If only I didn't have to go to school tomorrow...there're no water bodies in school.

* * * * *

Hmm I realise that the depression was just a kneejerk reaction to being slapped in the face by reality. And when troubles come, they come hard and fast. Went to Easter mass, and feel a lot happier. It was a great service...haven't felt so good after church for a long time. It's irrational, I know, but I delighted a lot in the ritual and grandeur and solemnity and majesty of the service, the hymns, the incense and so on. It's a kind of wonder at the promise of eternal life, I guess. The mere fact that a promise as amazing as this is made is astonishing in itself.

When the priest was going around blessing the congregation by sprinkling holy water all over the place, I suddenly thought of the spray from the bumboats and on the dock, and how blessed we were to have that night at all, and how marvellous this life is, and how nicely things work out in the middle of a sea.

* * * * *

Arh...I would like to remind you that I have myself never been attached, so how the hell am I supposed to know?

pondered by phoenican @ 27.3.05