Out of the three hills, Genting, Frasers and Cameron, Frasers has always been my favorite. Genting has too much concrete and Cameron's too far and full of smoky tourist buses. Fraser's has the freshest air, the best food, chayote squash to be stolen and a tennis court at Pines Resort.

The rest of the family went up the hill a day ahead because we stayed back to send Andrew off at the airport. But we did not miss much.

The drive up the hill was refreshing thanks partly to the dramamine pill which help me steady my head. The bungalow we had booked was very English looking, made with rusticated grey stone, black trimming on the exterior walls, square paneled windows, ample garden accented with plants along its borders. We arrived at lunch time and in no time it was tea time. We headed over to Ye Olde Smokehouse for scones but were quite disappointed by what was served. By the time we got back from the Smokehouse, it was dinner. And that's Malaysia for you. One meal after another.

Gary, Dee Ku and I had Cho Tai Ti and XO to entertain us for a couple hours before the New Year kicked in.

"Drink it. It's good for you."

It's funny how the human tongue works. The front and sides of the tongue allows you to taste sweet, salty and sour, while the back of your tongue is used to taste bitter. So by the time Mom's homemade bitter concoction hits at the back of your throat, it's too late to pull out. All you can do is twist your face till it looks like a well wrung towel.

It was early in the morning on Saturday, and I was on Dr Jun's massage table. Only because they told me it would be good for me.

We weaved through a sea of people, beautiful people on all flanks. Everyone had either a drink or a cigarette in hand just so they would not feel out of place. Colors flashed, swirled and twirled on a veil of second hand smoke. The music was thumpin', the people was bumpin', the whole place was jumpin', and booze crossed freely from bottle to glass. To accompany me on this wild and crazy night was Yun Wai, a high school friend I had not seen in about 6 years.

Away from Malaysia for so long, I did not ecpect to meet anyone I knew at Viva but I bumped into Joan at the bar. And into Kok Chun. And into no one else until much later.

The first part of the day was nothing to shout about. Took the LRT to the US Embassy, stood in, let me see, one, two, three lines, reminded myself not to say the 'B' word while in the vicinity, collected Hui-Chin's visa and headed home.

Later that night
Andrew and I threw a dinner for the family at this restaurant in Seapark. We ordered 6,7, or 8 really awesome dishes and by dinner's end we were all straining to breathe. Afterwards, we headed over to the Ah Ees place and Dee Ku brought out 30 kilos of durians for desert. That's like half a person worth of fruit.

We walked up to the door and they buzzed us in. The men in white coats lured us into a room where we were asked to strip. We were each given a pair of shorts to wear and then ordered to lie face down on individual tables. In five minutes, pain was going to be administered to each of us.

I was there to see about my toe. Gary was there because of his slipped disc. Uncle KB was there because he was old.

The doctor tending to my toe was Dr Jun, a.k.a. Minister of Pain. After getting a brief history about the problems I've been having with my feet and my big problem toe, Dr Jun started doing his magic. The first thing he did was massage the bottom of my foot with his thumb. I think he was trying to work out some of the knots in my foot. It was really painful, what he was doing, but I figured it was for my greater good. Dr Jun massaged my foot for about two minutes and then he told me he had to leave for a short while to go get his hammer.

"Jeez, I must have some pretty big knots in my foot," I thought to myself.

Dr Jun comes back with a hammer in his hand and uses it to massage my foot. The pain was unbearable but I bore it anyway. A very painful 5 minutes passed. (Very painful does not really describe the extent of the torment I went through in that first 5 minutes but I needed to save heavyweight words like excruciating and agonizing for the 10 minutes of torture that was to ensue.)

Dr Jun was done with my foot and was now moving on to my toe. He stretched my middle toe straight so that my toe tendons were fully strained. And then with all his strength, he used the hammer to scrape along those tendons. All the nerves between my middle toe and my clenched teeth felt like they were just lit on fire.

Dr Jun fed the fire for 5 minutes and then stopped. I then felt his fingers grip my toe really hard. And with one swift motion, he yanked it with all his strength. Actually, I don't think he yanked it with ALL his strength because he yanked it another ten times. After he was done pulling, I looked up and saw my detached toe in his hand. Just kidding.

Back to serious stuff. My massage finally came to an end and Dr Jun now wanted to stick some needles into my foot to increase blood flow. "Blood flow from my foot to the floor," I thought to myself. Accupuncture is not "not painful". I think it is important that I inform you, the public, of this matter because we so often bump into macho wannabes who brag that accupuncture is painless, that it just feels like a pin prick. Now, my question to these morons is, if pin pricks are so painless, why do people go ouch when pricked?

Pulling the needles out of my foot were as painful as putting them in. Where I'm concerned, putting a needle in normally seems more painful because in my mind I know I'd eventually have to pull it out. And pulling it out seems less painful, because in my mind I know that once its out, its out.

Back to the story. The needles come out, my toe is throbbing, swollen and longer, and I can barely stand on my two feet. And then comes the big question from Gary and Uncle KB, "Does it feel better?" Hell yeah! Better than 10 minutes ago.

Bernie was leaving for Singapore at 6 in the morning so we said our goodbyes the night before. But Andrew and I had to be up pretty early anyway because I had to get my passport renewed at the Terminal 3 passport department. There was a super long line when we arrived, mainly because of the Christmas backlog. When it was finally my turn, the guy at the counter told me that the passport pictures I had with me did not meet their requirement, which is bullshit because no where in their list of requirements did they mention that we could not wear a baseball cap and sunglasses. So I had to go take a picture at the picture taking booth at the end of the waiting area. As a result of my wasted time at the booth, I was about 50 numbers behind.

While waiting, Andrew and I decided to get a bite to eat. The Malay restaurant at the passport department was still closed for Hari Raya, which was a freakin' week and a half back. So we headed to the airport terminal to look for food. We found a restaurant that served nasi lemak. I thought the restaurants name, Bellisini, was pretty interesting since it put an Italian twist on the Malay words Beli Sini which meant "Buy here". Unfortunately, when you eat nasi lemak in an "Italian" restaurant, you pay Italian restaurant prices. Our nasi lemaks came up to a whopping $18. I had to put the five I had in my hand back into my wallet and pull out a twenty.

Back at the house
Andrew and I got home 2 hours past noon. Lunch was already being served. Hui Chin's parents were here to take her away from me, back to her home town of Taiping.

Andrew and I met up with Su Hung and Jason in BU. Su Hung was Su Hung but Jason was now Jason Niggerlas Soyza. (Inside joke)

Gentle, caring, and usually lively like a bee, Uncle Francis, a true friend of the family, was now nearing the end of his days.

I'm not sure he had any recollection of who I was. I introduced myself to him and he knew by my smile and my friendly gestures that I was someone he used to know. But it didn't matter to me that I was lost from his memory, as long as he knew that he was not lost from mine. And for that I am glad that I went.

Noise comes like a flash flood in my family. Before anyone arrived, you could hear a pin drop. Heck, before they arrived, you could even hear a piano crash through the roof. But you couldn't after they did.

As ususal, Mom prepared a grand feast; turkey, a leg of ham, a leg of lamb, seafood turine, etc. A big deal was made of the homemade bottle of wine Hui Chin and I brought from the US. There weren't any wine connoisseurs present that night but we sure had a heck of a lot of critics. But even I, a non-wine drinker, have to admit that the wine was not only a bit raw, but sappy and off tasting as well.

Natasha and Natalie were the gift distributors this year, making continuous trips from tree to recipient like package couriers. I think Ah Ma liked her present the most. I got her one them pearl in the oyster thingys. The whole family gathered around and flash bulbed the hell out of me as I pryed open the oyster to retrieve the pearl. That was the climax of the night and it was downhill from then on.

Oh, and I forgot to mention, I got a number 13 Kurt Warner Rams jersey from Hui Chin. Huua!

Pre-journey to Malaysia
As a precaution, Hui Chin and I made sure we were at the airport 4 hours before flight time. We got our boarding passes and checked in our bags quite easily and fairly promptly at the EVA counter. Now, with slightly less than 4 hours to kill, we decided to grab a bite to eat at one of the two Japanese stalls in the food court. The Udon soup we ordered was pretty good but the Chicken Teriyaki bowl was pretty stale and came with mixed veg that tasted like butt lice. But I finished it anyway. It is funny how hunger, combined with the promise of better (Malaysian) food to come, makes the tongue more tolerant. Being in the airport, we paid airport prices for the Teriyaki bowl, and that there was a little hard to swallow.

Hui Chin and I lounged comfortably in the food court before we decided to take a look at what the duty free shop downstairs had to offer. We reached the lower level and witnessed before us 2 hours worth of people lined up to get through the international gate. Hui Chin and I followed the trail of bodies that snaked through the airport, out the entrance, onto the sidewalk and all the way round the curb. When you have to walk 5 minutes to get from the start to the end of the line, it's a pretty darn long line. And we weren't even at Fry's.

The minute hand on my watched did two 360s before we got through the scanners and to the departure gate. When you're in a really long line with nothing to do, even the littlest things bring you entertainment. For me, I found great pleasure in hearing people disbelievably mutter under their breath about the insanity as they passed me and made their way to the back of the line.

Up, up and no way!
As a result of strong headwinds, our plane was diverted to Seattle. Something weird happened as we journeyed north to Starbucks Central. They served dinner. At one in the morning.

At the gas station
Because of the added mileage incurred, the plane had to be refueled once we arrived in Seattle. Refueling took a tedious hour and 45 minutes, during which no one was allowed to use electronic equipment. You could wear the cheap airline headphones on your head but you weren't allowed to plug it into the socket. Actually, I take back the thing about the cheap earphones. Those things probably cost a fortune since they always make sure they rip it from your possesion at the end of every flight. On local flights, they charge you $5 to wear their earphones for the length of the flight. What sucks is that when you have a transit flight, your $5 credit does not carry over.

Refueling actually felt worse than waiting in the line at the airport because you were confined to your half chair. At first, they only announced that handphones were not allowed. So I tried to use my laptop, only to have my ears chewed off by the air stewardess a few minutes later. She refused to hear anything I had to say, responding with a stern "you have to turn it off" each time I tried to get any sort of argument going.

"I only need another sec..."

"You have to turn it off."

"But could I u..."

"You have to turn it off."

"Will it be possib..."

"You have to turn it off."

"Yes drill sargeant. Will turn it off drill sargeant. Right away drill sargeant. Up yours drill sargeant. You're just pissed off 'cos you're not a real air stewardess because we are currently not in the air drill sargeant bitch."

I was actually surpised that men and women were not divided into different halves of the plane and a curtain drawn between them just to avoid any sparks. At one point, I was so bored that I could have started a fire by just twiddling my thumbs.

Making up ground
We took off from Seattle at 3:45 in the morning so we were now about 4 hours behind. We only had 3 hours to spare in Taipei to catch our connecting flight, so the pilot had to really step on the gas pedal. And I think flying in the Northern hemisphere sorta shortens the duration of the flight. Anyhow, by some miracle we arrived in Taipei with an hour to spare. I guess the pilot must have been flying.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before but Chiang Kai Shek airport is my all time favorite for places with nothing to do. But I guess airports are built for a purpose, and my expecting an airport to serve as a theme park just shows you how spoiled I've gotten.

The final leg
The flight from Taipei to Malaysia is a short one, but not short enough when you're brimming with anticipation. A new health requirement had to be met by incoming flights to Malaysia on this trip, the plane had to be fumigated while the passengers were in it. What they did was have a flight attendant walk the length of the plane spraying some sort of disinfectant in the air. When they first made the announcement that they were going to do what they were going to do, I thought nozzles were going to be lowered from the ceiling and gas would come hissing out of them. Could you imagine how that would have been like if you were Jewish and in your 60s?

The plane landed safely, we got our luggage without a hitch, and for the first time, I got through customs without them dismantling everything in my bag and sending it piece by piece through the Geiger machine. To date, I think the favorite part of my flights home to Malaysia has been the walk through the arrival gate, partly because you feel like you're a star arriving at the Academy Awards. There's always a huge mob of people clamoring to get a glance of the next arrivee, and if it were not for the half-fence restraints, you'd probably be trampled by the anxious crowd. But even bigger than feeling like a Hollywood Star is being greeted by that familiar face in the crowd.