Balik kampung

I must say that after all these years, I have yet to decide if I actually love or abhor flying. Part of the allure of being thousands of feet up in the air has classically been due to the mysticism of being part of a niche that is able to quite literally look down on the rest of society, along with the more cerebral (albeit subconscious) aspect of ‘being away from it all’. But things change, in an age where the skylines are dominated by the orange of Easyjet or any other colour co-ordinations that enables one to fly across the Channel at less than the cost of good evening’s meal.

In my case, the build-up to a flight is the most attractive aspect of the whole experience. There’s nothing quite like the prospect of going on a long trip away that helps maintain your sanity during a busy on-call. I have always made it a point to organise an ‘event’ in advanced so that no matter how horrid things may be from a workplace point of view, there will be something pleasant to look forward to.

I’m usually rather ambivalent about flights themselves, although I do find myself occasionally being awed by the fact that we could be so ambivalent about something as technologically (and philosophically) advanced as flying. One only has to look outside the window to gain a different perspective on humanity, and I once told Sweetie that one of the 3 things that made me believe in the existence of God was the immense beauty that is on display when our planet is viewed from above (hence my fascination with Google Earth).

The one bit I hate about flying though is that I inevitably get my sinuses all clogged up, which is not particularly helpful when you’re trying to equilibrate the pressure within your head during descent. So the latter part of most flights will find me cringing in anticipation (usually after the last meal) of a headache that is akin to having tiny little moles attempting to scrapper their way out of your skull.

It was particularly bad during the flight back this time round. Can’t blame anyone but myself though – I was back home for a meagre 7 days, and in an attempt to squeeze in as many friends and food-types as possible, I made do with minimal snoozing time. This allowed me to have a rather efficient trip back home, but it also led to me suffering from a perennial hangover-like sensation during the last few days and rather embarrassing Abdullah-Badawi-type episodes of nodding off in public.

Home was good – needless to say, the highlights involved the moments spent with Sweetie and the catching up with family and old friends over lots and lots of good food.

For some reason, the savoury pancake with Argentinian beef at Paddington’s House of Pancakes at The Curve stands out, but that’s probably due to the potent mix of delectable courses and highly agreeable company. Other gastronomic highlights ranged from the more traditional mango kerabu and hokkien mee to the more contemporary black-pepper venison (I resisted getting the rabbit in honour of Reem; probably ended up eating Bambi as a result).

I could go on and on about the food I had, but suffice to say I’ve probably put on a few kilos and food is going to taste remarkably bland over the next few weeks. Thankfully, I’ve got some kuih raya, maggi tom yam and Twisties as antidotes.

I have since returned to the notorious banality of living in Middlesbrough, which was recently deemed to be the worst place to live in the UK (woohoo!). Felt rather crap initially, but it’s amazing how your body recovers after sleeping for 12 hours. Next week’s going to be rather horrid workload-wise, but now I have something else to look forward to - my trip down south to catch up with the Geordie lasses that will involve catching Patrick Stewart play MacBeth and a glimpse of the Terracotta Army, and indulging in culinary delights of the likes that are not available from Boro and my own kitchen.