Lucky Bo: Totally-Worth-It Cholesterol-ville

I zip my maroon dress- spoil from the boutique’s discount rack. With an afterthought, I line my sepek-eyes with a touch of pencil eye-liner; and my lips, a splash of lipstick. Our pal considers the place “atas”, so err on the side of caution, or risk looking like the jakuns we are. Make a reservation, he says. So I did.

The nice lady on the line is thorough. Clearly she does this a lot. We will only hold the table for 15 minutes, she informs me.

So we make every effort to arrive at exactly 7pm, our reservation time. A row of classy looking shop lots greet us. Parking is easy- rich people don’t drive?

Photo credit:

Christmas music plays in the background of Lucky Bo. I take a moment to admire a Christmas tree and its ornaments.

We are led to a table near the back of the restaurant.

Cutlery is arranged on the table according to, er, sequence of utility?

Raised in a middle-class family that refused to pay 50 sens for pisang goreng, I felt like a deer in a kampung– completely out of place and every bit inadequate.

My insecurities kicks up a rung when a couple of tai-tais make their way to a neighbouring table, shopping bags in the hands of… their driver. I’m considerably perceptive, so a chauffeur of the rich upper-class is discernible.

But, alas, the nice waitress in denim is waiting for our order, so it’s time to sham confidence.

This, this, this, this… We randomly point at items on the menu. Thank God I reserved the Tomahawk steak via phone. “The 1.2-1.3 kg, Marble 3, Tomahawk Steak,” she said.

“Okay,” I replied, as if I consume numerically rated grub everyday. The truth is, only time my meal had a number in it was the McDonald’s 6 chicken nugget set.

They serve us sky juice- “warm, room-temperature, or iced, ma’am?”- for free! On an unrelated note, I once launched a spirited campaign of boycott-eateries-that-charge-for-plain-water.

But that was 21 years old air-conditioned-restaurants-are-a-ruse Chow Ping. Today, I am 27 years old Marble-3-Tomahawk-Steak Chow Ping.

The complimentary bread, drinks, and appetisers came. We chomp them down.

Bread, duh. Because I eat at places that serve you complimentary baked goods with vinegar all the time. Not.
Tuaktail. I sanction this drink.
Mushroom soup. Each spoonful cost, like, RM1.
Grilled cheesy portobello mushroom

But all that pale in light of the evening’s main star- our medium 1.2-1.3 kg, Marble 3 Tomahawk steak.

1.2-1.3 kg, Marble 3 Tomahawk steak

The steak is served- sizzling, alluring, and sitting on the serving block like Zeus on his Olympian throne. It might be the trance, but I promise you the air around it fizzled, like the surrounding oxygen is ad hoc to the existence of that slab of royalty.

So we let our Gen-Y instincts take the reigns, and instantly whip out our phones to capture this moment that will survive for lifetimes to come. The waitress waits patiently as we feed our cameras. Later, Broady remarked that the wait staff probably have personal records: longest camera-induced waiting time.

After what she probably deem as ages, we let her slice the steak up into pieces. The smallest, fat laden piece, she takes with her to spin up a plate of scrumptious Char Kuey Teow (of which, I grade 9.99 out of 10!).

But let us not get distracted from the star of the moment. I sliced my steak- fork in my right hand, knife in the left, because, who cares?

I bite. I wait. I taste. I sigh.

Savoury juice fills my mouth, indulging every taste bud, teasing every sensory nerve.

Are those… angels singing?

The fat- it melts!

Did somebody just compact heaven and put it in my mouth?

I redefine taste-gasm.

Tomahawk steak again
Char kuey teow. Cooked from the oil of our 1.2-1.3kg, Marble 3 Tomahawk steak. (that’s starting to roll off my tongue)

Life- never the same again.

All that cholesterol and the 600 bucks bill? Totally. Worth. It.*

*21 years old air-conditioned-restaurants-are-a-ruse Chow Ping might beg to differ though.

Turning 27 On The Metropolitan Island of Singapore

One score and seven years ago, my parents brought forth onto this Earth a new life, conceived in honeymoon bliss, dedicated to the proposition that one should never underestimate the fertility of a Wong woman.

I grace *curtsy* this planet at approximately 4pm Petaling Jaya time, screaming, kicking and totally rocking the botak look.

27 years later, an organised whim lands me on the metropolis of Singapore, sweating buckets and lugging a backpack through the intriguing streets of Geylang. But the toil quickly ends when we locate our cozy Airbnb layover lair, tuck into an “exotic” looking apartment.

A nap is in order, but play no hindrance to dinner plans.


Because Mr. Google recommended it and every birthday girl needs a drink, we hop onto a Uber for Chijmes.

In a nutshell, love the place, love the ambience, love the buzz, love the lights.

In particular, love the concourse with the lush carpet grass and bean bags strewn around for tipsy drinkers or stargazing couples.

But loitering on oversized batu serembans will have to wait, because if the intense churning in my stomach is any indication, dinner beckons.

Of the many restaurants available, we picked Prive, because a crowd equals scrumptious nosh, right? Or perhaps we fell prey to the sheep effect.

Either way, we score a table. The first one offered was round with the diameter of two regular pizzas. After making it clear that that won’t work, the manager led us to a more reasonably sized rectangular table, so kudos to their service.

The ambience is pretty. Warm white (marry a guy from a lighting business family and learn terms like that) light bulbs hang around like vines, emitting the perfect amount of shine for an ideal culinary experience.

We waste no time ordering…

Classic Wagyu Beef Burger
Fisherman’s Catch Pizza
Mango Mojito

… And blow less time shovelling food down our throats.

I would comment on the quality of food, but my ravenous state at the moment disqualifies me as a reliable food critic.

Universal studio singapore


Photo credit:

There is a formula to The Perfect Theme Park Experience (T.P.T.P.E).

Limited crowd + Good Weather = T.P.T.P.E

Despite being a weekday, there was a notable crowd. Perhaps, we have the school holiday to thank for that. Fortunately, waits were consistently 20 minutes or less, so yippee-yay-yay!

However, Singapore is always synonym with a chance of rain. Yet, the sun shone like the ball of fire it is as we stepped past the giant rotating globe, under the freshly displayed Christmas decorations and into the park.

In fact, we managed to squeeze in a heathy helping of thrill rides and “family-friendly” ones before black clouds taunt us overhead followed by the promised bout of pouring tropical rain.

Speaking of thrill rides, here’s a quote to chew on:

The standard of a theme park lies in the quality of its thrill rides. ~ Chow Ping, self-proclaimed theme park expert

Therefore, bear with me as I dissect the lone thrill ride(s) of Universal Studio Singapore.

Battlestar Galactica: HUMAN vs. CYCLON is a two part roller coaster. Based on TV series Battlestar Galactica, choose if you want your feet tugged safely within the vehicle (human), or dangle with a chance of amputation (cyclone).

Obviously, we rode both. And here’s the expert’s (me) verdict:

Note: Score is rated from a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being atrocious; 10- orgasm-worthy.


Photo credit:

First impression: 7

G force sensation: 5

Turns: 8

Duration of ride: 4

Pee in pants factor: 5.5

Average score: 5.9


Photo credit:

First impression: 8

G force sensation: 6

Turns: 5

Duration of ride: 4

Pee in pants factor: 6.5

Average score: 5.9

One second thought, allow me to modify the aforementioned formula.

Limited crowd + Good Weather + Great Company = T.P.T.P.E


And the company was awesome.


Bukit Kutu: 6 Valuable Lessons on Hydration, Lactic Acid and Giant Centipedes

1) H2o is the way of life (and hike). If in doubt, bring more

Up to 60% of a human body is water, but my fluid composition is rapidly decreasing. My sweat ducts ooze urea like a water hose on a perfectly manicured lawn. The compromised water level makes me pant like a deer for a river, and I stagger along like an injured version of said deer.

I exhausted my 500ml water bottle, and I long for a wishing well so I can (1) wish for water (2) drink the wishing water.

Remember to BMW: Bring More Water.

2) Is this the “big rock”?

Bloggers relay that the “big rock” is the trail’s rough midpoint. This information had us wondering “is this the big rock” upon every stone and pebble that came our way.

Breaking news: If you have to ask, IT IS NOT THE BIG ROCK.

Because when the huge ass boulder materialise before your eyes like angels in the nativity story, YOU WILL KNOW.

3) all routes lead to rome, but not all lead to bukit kutu

If you see a junction, stop and stare… I think I’m moving but I go nowhere…

I thank God for bloggers. Without them, we might be stranded in a virgin jungle right now, eating leaves and drinking our pee for survival.

Maybe not, but we’ll be very very lost, because not every route lead to Bukit Kutu.

Special thanks to blogger Grace Abundant, whose detailed directions and accompanying pictures are the reason we live and breathe (we followed it like Captain Jack Sparrow’s compass).

4) sikit-sikit, lama-lama mendaki bukit: every step brings you closer to the peak


2 hours 45 mins of churning the lactic acid mill uphill. We step climbed tree roots, traverse mud cakes, and scaled sandy slopes…

5) beware of creepy-crawlies

… and the effort lands me 3 leeches sucking on till kingdom come.

Red ants the size of my finger nail march everywhere like it’s the middle of a business day in Kuala Lumpur.

Not to mention the humongous centipede (see pic above!) just sitting there minding its own business, giving me the creeps, but not enough to pass of the photo opportunity. It’s length exceeds that of my size 6 feet! (My aunt calls me “da jiao po”(big foot lady)

6) the view is worth the climb

All the sweat, tears and blood (no thank you, leeches) bleed (no pun intended) together to reward my resolution: a stunning view of nature’s perfection. Distant hills stand proud, circling the irregularity of a water dam. Stratus clouds spot the blue sky, made better only by our front row seats.

Heck, I love Bukit Kutu.

Taman Negara: 24 Hours Amongst the Lush, Leafy Paradise


After 3 hours of endless kampung roads in a shock absorber-less van, we set foot in Jerantut, Pahang. Frankly, Jerantut surprised me. I expected a tiny cluster of wooden houses without plumbing system while Moana sings I’ve been starring at the edge of the water, ‘long as I can remember, never really knowing why. Instead, a small town looms; rows and rows of shop lots, a hospital, sizeable concrete buildings… But the city kid in me notes: no mall.

We embarked on our boat ride from the Jerantut Jeti to Taman Negara. Fees paid and permits in place, we began our jaunt “over the edge of the water”.

Spot our boat
Walking the plank to our boat

row, row, row your boat

Every floating log freaks me out. After I nudged my husband’s arm for the 38th time, he finally says, “baby, that is NOT a crocodile”. But I’m not convinced. Can you blame me? My pandora bracket will sooo slip out over a hook.

Captain Hook lost his hand to a crocodile!

My husband has two great passions: lego and Malaysian rivers. “Sungaiku, haiku”, cites the campaign slogan. Naturally, the water’s brownish shade caused him significant discomfort; but did nothing to me as we cruised along the windy river, wind in our (nose) hair, eyelashes flapping in the breeze.

In the jungle, the Malaysian jungle, giant trees, they touch the sky… (anybody who don’t know this song had no childhood)

mutiara taman negara

After 3 hours of a surprisingly pleasant downstream voyage, we are met with solid ground.

Mutiara Taman Negara is the nicer of the accommodations available in the national park. Since we were in the mood for a little splurge (that explains our rapidly decreasing bank account figure), we booked an aircond chalet for 2 with with an attached bathroom and private toilet bowl.

Where’s the monkey?
Animals everywhere. It is, after all, a jungle.
Check out the booty on this hottie.

Bookings here also include buffet treats 3 meals a day, from the moment you check in till the second you punch out (or return your key).

The lamb was particularly mouth watering. Or maybe I just like lamb.

The dining hall
The buffet lineup
Scrump-ti-ousss! I-kid-you-not!

a pitch black jungle

The night jungle walk was, with respect to its name, at night, in a jungle, with no street lamps. Without the shine of our mighty torch lights, a blackness swallowed us like the fog in Sherlock’s Hounds of the Baskervilles. I stick my hand out like a traffic police but the darkness cheats the sight of my fingers.

The guide inform us that the “concert” we hear is a chorus of crickets, frogs and grasshoppers. He points out insects and creepy-crawlies, 2 snakes (1 poisonous, the other looks like a belt), too many crickets, and a big fat spider that sends tingles up my spine.

Spider: “Bet you can’t find me.”

Pak Cik guide points out a pair of mating stick insects and delivers a mind blowing fact: our friends can “bang” for up to 15-20 days! I did a fact check on the internet (marvel of the modern world), and discovered that their norm is FIFTY-NINE-FREAKING-DAYS! Speak of endurance.

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But the climax is yet to come. Scorpions lurk under leaves and in self-made holes. The slightest movement, the softest whisper, sends them clambering back into the shadows. To coax one out, the guide caress it with a stick, gently baiting it into the open. The guide shines a UV light at the scorpion to reveal a glowing silhouette of fluorescence glamour.

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We trek on to Tahan Hide, a wooden structure that functions as an observation tower. From here, in plain view is the spot where park rangers lay out salt. That, coupled with the presence of a water source, aims to lure animals into plain sight. Unfortunately, we luck out today. No animals, just a couple of moths in our hair.

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Bukit Terisek and the canopy walk, in that sequence

Day 2, we flex our quads up the man made wooden steps. Every 5 minutes, the guide takes a break to relay jungle survival tips. Where to source for water? How to start a fire? How to tend to wounds? Never sleep in the open, he advise.

The hike was relatively easy and our efforts land us on top of Bukit Terisek and a breath taking view. Pictures are in order of course, or it didn’t happen.

Pics or it didn’t happen.
The view

The canopy walk, which is essentially a hanging bridge draped betwixt the towering tropical rainforest. Rules dictate a minimum distance of 10 meters between each person, precautions despite the sturdy ties to the solid trees.

A healthy portion of the walk was closed for maintenance, and I can’t say I’m not disappointed. However, I make the most of the opportunity, drinking in the lush, leafy paradise from the front row seats of the hanging bridge.

Me on the canopy walk with the hubby in the distance.

hanging with the batek tribe

Speaking of hanging, the visit to a village of the Batek Tribe was an eye opener. These orang asli (aboriginals) are scarce in numbers. In the year 2000, there were only 1800 of them. Fortunately, their population today is nearly double.

20 families live in this village, where they drink from the river and hunt for food. The tiny huts house whole families, many of which have 7 or 8 children. Women walk around in sarongs, and the guide playfully told us that they don’t wear underwear. That sparked the question of sanitary pads, one I wish we brought up at the time.

And I thought my apartment is tiny.

A young Orang Asli man entertained us with his carving skills and fashioned wood into an arrow. Then, he demonstrated the fire starting technique the batek people use to spark “red flowers“.

An orang asli man demonstrates the fire starting technique.
A deadly arrow.
Real men build fire with bare hands (and wood). #myhusbandisarealman

We even had the chance to build fire hands on, with nothing but cane and wood. Because, real men build fire with bare hands (and wood and cane).

the 7 rapids

A.k.a. rocking the boat in baby pools of whirling water. Which is what the boat skipper did. Waves of water splash my face, drenching my t-shirt and running shorts.

Doc, Grumpy, Sleepy, Happy, Dopey, Bashful, Sneezy… Oh wait, those are the 7 dwarfs.

Nevertheless, 7 “rapids” and 7 showers later, I was soaking wet from head to toe with bubbles in my butt crack… And then it was over. WHY IS IT OVER ALREADY??

only 3% of malaysians have visited taman negara

Says a park ranger.

What??! That’s lower than the national diabetes statistics!

I say, let’s up the data.

We owe ourselves that much.

useful links (random links from google)



A Saunter Through Namba, Osaka

Welcome to Namba

Kon’nichiwa (Hello), Namba!

I stepped out of Namba Train Station into a melting pot of hustle, bustle, and cool breezy air. As a Pilot for AirAsia X, I frequent Osaka on night stops. Unfortunately, the crew hotel location renders trips to Namba a special treat, ones I take only when allowed the luxury of time.

Despite my love for travel and adventure, I’m a creature of habit. Each visit, I eat at the same restaurant, shop at the same retail shops, and stroll down the same avenue. Today, I resolve to challenge my comfort zone.

Oishii (Delicious)

I elect to dine at whichever restaurant catches my attention. This turns out to be a cozy and traditional looking ramen shop located off the main street. A large lantern with Japanese characters envelope the entrance, swaying with grace in the wind.

The menu is plastered on a large board next to the giant lantern. My eyes scamper through the characters, searching for English alphabets. I’m not disappointed.

The atmosphere in the restaurant is placid and calm. A counter table lines the kitchen area surrounded by stools. Space is not abundant, but there is wisdom in the seating- they only seat the customers they have the capacity to serve. Like in most ramen shops in Japan, I purchase a food ticket at the vending machine. Money through the slot, press choice button, ticket out. I opt for the soft- boiled egg noodles. The young wait staff collects my ticket stub and gestures for me to take a seat.

A kettle sits on the table next to a jug of cold ice water. In the mood for a warm beverage, I empty a sizeable amount from the stainless steel kettle into my cup and take in a gulp. Hey, that’s not water! A quick sip presents a savory taste; it’s soup! I flip the kettle around, and printed in bold black letters: after you finish eating Tsukemen, you can adjust to dilute the taste of the soup by adding a Dashi soup. Oh my!

Not long after, a bowl of steamy hot Ramen noodles is placed before me. I take in a spoonful of broth. A tinge of saline tang tickles my tongue; the taste of anchovies is hefty. The noodles are appropriately springy, and I expected nothing less. The soft-boiled egg is my favorite. A gentle bite pierces the white exterior, and orange liquid yolk burst out like heaven to my senses.

The Tombori River walk

Stomach full and satisfied, it’s time to resume my adventure. I make random turns and follow unfamiliar alleys. The weather is pleasant, the perfect day for the great outdoors. I notice that many locals cycle as a mode of transportation.

The random wandering takes me to the Dotonbori Canal. Rays of light from the setting sun is mesmerising, so I take a break to savour the allure.

I notice a walkway along the river. Upon further inquisition, I discover the Tombori river walk allows me a stroll along the waterfront with a view of over 30 restaurants and retail stores. I happily oblige the path. A yellow ferry seated with tourist stirs pass, smiles plastered across the occupants’ faces.

The walk takes me to the famed segment of the canal: the Running Man. Let it never be said that I visited Namba without a photo with the Running Man. So I whipped out my camera phone for a quick selfie.

I circle around the shops a couple of times, and came face to face with another running man! (In the form of a concrete statue)


More roaming lands me at the Shinsaibashi- Suji Shopping Street. A variety of stores line the thoroughfare. From big brands like H&M and Uniqlo, to low key boutiques, and cafes, there’s something for everybody.

The Disney Store

As an avid Disney fan, I was delighted to stumble upon a Disney outlet store. These don’t exist in my home country of Malaysia, so I was excited explore. Disney merchandises line the shelves and hang off hooks. I indulge myself, shopping and admiring. The Beauty and the Beast soundtrack play in the background, adding a spring to the shoppers’ steps.

Osoi desu (it is late)

I’m so engross with the sights that time passed through attention. The glowing figures on my watch gave me a shock, although the streets still scream “the night is young”. Unfortunately, rest reckons. So, I head for the train station, my footslog apparent, drinking in the last of the city.

Oyasumi (goodnight), Namba.











Balad, Jeddah: The Buried Sandy Gem

the calvary

On Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D, a scene unfolds where Agent May encounters a situation that cripples and haunts her. Her mysterious nickname “The Calvary” is explained in a chilling episode where an inhuman girl corners her. The location? Bahrain.

Photo credit:    Agent May in Bahrain

The episode plays in my head as our transport pulls up in front of Balad. No doubt due to its uncanny resemblance to the show’s presentation of Bahrain. The street mongers, the sandy coloured buildings, and the lack of drains (due to the country’s dry climate).

“The Town”

Balad literally means “The Town”. Because of it’s location in the Muslim’s Holy Land, pilgrims come here from near and far. Naturally, majority of the people roaming the streets are non-natives. I suspect most of the business owners are Africans, Indians, and even a couple of Asians. In fact, if there were Arabs around, I must have missed them.

Selfie time

Like most women in the vicinity, I am dressed in the traditional black juba with a shawl over my hair.

Within the first hour, I learnt 2 engaging lessons:

1) Do not trust the board at the money changer.

Our friend counted then handed me the Riyal currency, mouth sealed shut like the Silent Brothers in the City of Bones. Upon counting, probing, and more counting, I realise that what I see (on the board) is not what I get.

2) Always haggle.

Nothing is final till money is exchanged. My friends purchased very real fake suitcases for 230 Riyal each. An identical one would cost double the price back in Kuala Lumpur.

Bargain. It is not a dirty word.

A typical back lane in Balad


Due to the diverse nationalities in Jeddah, different cuisines are available. Indian restaurants, in particular, pop up like pimples after a durian feast.

We pick Sangeeth Restaurant, my friend’s personal favourite for their spicy chicken briyani rice.

We made our way through back lanes and main streets, only to find the restaurant close- not an uncommon sight. Muslims pray 5 times a day. During prayer time, most activities cease. This includes restaurants and shops.

Indian restaurants are everywhere.

As predicted, business resumed 10 minutes later.

The briyani rice did not disappoint. Steamed to near perfection with a healthy portion of raisins, each mouthful proved scrumptious. Each bite improved only by a taste of fried or butter chicken.

Speaking of butter chicken, its gravy texture is optimum. It also compliments the roti canai.

Spicy fried chicken
Butter chicken
Briyani rice


The variety in these shops is astonishing. Let it never be said that one visits Jeddah without a healthy snack of nuts and dates.

This brightly lit shop looks like Santa’s workshop. We exited the shop with bags and bags of treats. The shop attendants’ friendly demeanour, on top of the many free samples we were offered, is probably the culprit of the shopping spree went wild.

Abeer Sweets
Looks like Santa’s workshop

Gold, frankincense, myrrh,


And the cute little lamp featured in the picture below.

Rub to get 3 wishes

One is spoiled for choice.

I have been told that the perfumes here include a special element that keeps the scent strong for days.

It is no wonder that some regard Balad as a shopping paradise.

Although I kept my valuables close, and alertness high, I admit that the place has its own personal charm.


The chatter.

The dust.

The merchants.

The food.

The town.

I Heart Melbourne City

melbourne, I’ll miss you

This might be my last trip to Melbourne for a very long time. The thought of leaving AirAsia X weighs heavy on my heart, but opportunities are waiting around the corner. And you know what Sherlock says? “Sentiment is a defect chemical found in the losing side”.

But sentiment is hefty, and I’m determined to drink in every detail this city has to offer. We stay at Ibis Hotel on Swanston Street, situated on the fringe of Melbourne City. It’s location is crazy convenient, and I love it.

Ibis Hotel Swanston Street

Of trams, buildings, and sculptures

I step into the cold breezy Australian air. Tiny droplets of rain cling to the tip of my shoulder length brown black hair. I begin a steadfast march towards the city center. Pedestrians in Melbourne City are a usual sight, so I’m not alone in my quest.

The drizzle graduates into a downpour. I raise the hood of my jacket and stick my hands into the pockets, each footstep advanced with renewed resolve. I’m surprise at the sights I’ve missed. The beauty I unknowingly graze over in my oblivious haste.

RMIT University

Cling-clang-cling-clang steals my attention as a crowded tram speeds past me. I noticed a green and purple building to my left, how such a uniquely coloured building escaped my attention beats me. Upon further inquiry, I discover that it’s the RMIT University.

Melbourne Library Sinking Building Sculpture

Soon, I arrive at a sculpture that’s never earn the time of my day. Today, I blink at the sinking building in amazement. So many questions, so little time. But those questions will have to wait till another day…

State Library of Victoria

Because I love libraries. So while I’m snapping my shutters away at random buildings and sculptures, the State Library of Victoria cannot escape my agenda.

I’m hungry

The buildings and sculptures distracted me from the growing grumble in my stomach. Only when I stumbled upon my favourite restaurant, Mekong, was I reminded. Mekong serves pho, a traditional Vietnamese rice noodle soup. During lunch hours, Mekong is always full to the brim. The workers try their best to optimise the seating space, but a line is inevitable. As usual, I opt for the sliced beef pho. A placard on the wall provide step by step instructions on how to best enjoy the noodles.

Mekong Vietnamese Rice Noodle Soup
Mekong’s Interior.
I love my pho (Vietnamese noodle soup).
President Bill Clinton Had 2 Bowls. How Many Can You Have?

scroll to continue my stroll

China Town.


A busy crossroad
Melbourne Flinders Street Station

Stomach full and satisfied, I pursue my mission. I passed Chinatown and several busy crossroads. The positive energy is electrifying, and I breathe in every detail, missing Melbourne already.

Hot chocolate.

It has been said that Melbourne is the city of cafes. Therefore, I grab myself a hot chocolate to complete the experience.


I’ve had my fun here. From strutting down an alley of glowing graffiti grandeur, to darting pass street performers in hopes of beating Mind Game‘s closing time (life of a geek’s wife). Not to mention bracing the bitter cold with my set crew after a late arrival for China Bar, because it is one of the few 24 hours restaurant in the vicinity. It’s no wonder I’ve forged an attachment to this radiant and (literally) colourful city.

Strutting my zing in a Melbourne City sidewalk.

Then there was that time my bud Gloria dropped by the day I was in town. The weather was pleasant, so we strolled down the streets and towards the Yarra River.

Photo credit:

Here, people paddled in kayaks, their tone arms render me conscious of my own flabby ones. Ferries wheeze by and we waved to the tourist onboard. A teenage couple sat under a tree making out, and I actually felt bad for staring.

Chilling by Riverland.

but its not goodbye forever

Like cheese cake and Sherlock, Melbourne city carved a unique place in my heart. The buzzing streets. The splashy buildings. The luscious food.

I’ll miss you, Melbourne. Till next time.

Aquria KLCC: Breathe Under Water

Photo credit:

If you fancy the underwater world, love “Finding Memo”, or simply looking to kill some time, Aquaria KLCC is perfect for you.

Do purchase a ticket online (refer to “Useful Link”). Alternatively, buy yours over the counter. If you have a MyKad (Malaysian ID), present it for a discount.

The adventure begins

After scanning our tickets at the entrance, we stepped into a world of blue, blue and bluer. To our left, bloodthirsty piranhas hover with death in their eyes… or so I expected. Instead, what awaits could pass as a Valentine’s Day plushy. Pfft… Can’t say I’m not disappointed.

Selfie with the men- eaters.

To our right, sits the gene pool. Here, visitors are welcomed to molest interact with our friendly underwater pals.

The Horseshoe Crabs getting, um, affectionate.
The Brown Banded Bamboo Shark.
My buddy and a starfish.

The saga unfolds. A variety of water creatures meet us with flailing gills and (in the case of a slothful green snake) hissing stares.

“I found dinner”, says the hubby.
One little, two little, three little fishes…
A lion and a fish walked into a bar. 9 months later, a lionfish!
The third wheel on their date.
This is the Green Arrow of the underwater world. It can shoot an accurate jet of water up to 2 metres away.
Jelly in the tank, jelly in the tank, willy- water, willy- water… 

under the sea

We arrive at a conveyor belt that glides us under an arced aquarium to create an underwater illusion. Sea corals plaster the “seabed” in an array of colors while fishes dance around singing “under the sea” (silently).

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Oh grandma, what big teeth you have.

the feeding

The area is relatively small. In under 5 minutes, we retraced our steps from exit to entrance for the otter feeding. Speaking of otters and mealtime, boy, did they work hard for their meal.

Can I keep one, please?

They twist, turn, fetched balls and high-five the audience through the solid glass. Kind of like the scene in Supergirl when Kara and Alex reciprocate a tearful “palm reunion” through the thick window of a spaceship hurling into space and impending doom. And then I straightened upon the otters’ final trick, because the trainer is holding shrimps, and I love shrimps.

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the cutest of them all?

Satisfied, we exit Aquaria KLCC, and I have one thought on my mind:  My home boy HAS to propose to his girlfriend here (click on link to find out how!).

How to get there

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Additional information

Don’t miss feeding time! Click here to check out the feeding schedule.

Also, “cage rage” is all the rage. Click here to find out more.

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