'YOUR DRESSING CANNOT INSIDE!'
I'm going to interrupt myself in telling the story of Papa's hospital experience because... we're back from our weekend holiday in Genting! If I don't do this, the story will get stale as yesterday's porridge.
It was a nice weekend. Our primary goal in making this trip is to rest, somewhere where we could leave behind our daily mundane concerns, away from the stifling heat of the city, be where we can shed off our routines and not give a hoot whether it's time to eat, or sleep or get up from bed. And we got that. So it was nice.
It was cold in Genting alright. The whole Saturday that we were there, the city was enveloped in fog, the visibility was almost zero and we couldn't even see the street right beneath our bedroom window. As we couldn't get to our room at the Theme Park Hotel until after 10am, and we got there around 7am, we set off to tour the place after a not-so-enticing breakfast at our hotel's main dining hall, the Happy Valley Restaurant. There wasn't much to see. It was an absolutely man-made tourist getaway. You arrive by a cablecar, which deposits you right smack into the center of the mall (the main attraction of the First World Hotel). You then traverse a network of walkways, shops, fastfood enclaves, and escalators, past the casino (which is Genting Hotel's main attraction, aside from being the best hotel in the area), through the lobby of the Resort Hotel (which boasts of a huge indoor heated swimming pool), out into the street fronting the Theme Park, and into the not-so-waiting arms of its adjacent hotel, which is where we were booked. In short, you can tour all the main attractions in Genting Highlands without having to set foot on the city streets, which is, in my opinion, at odds with the very reason why Genting has become what it is, a place where you can breathe in a whiff of fresh, totally uncontrived, mountain air and scenery. What a shame that everything was so... concrete.
I guess it's my fault that we didn't have the best accommodations. Papa wanted to book us at the Genting Hotel, but for a miserly savings of S$60.00, I opted for the more economical Theme Park Hotel. We had a great view from our room, and the bed was comfortable enough, but we didn't have a ref and we couldn't ask for ice from housekeeping cause they didn't have room service, the bathroom didn't have a bathtub, the tv wasn't provided with a remote control and though they had cable, we couldn't even tune in to CNN or to any sports channel, and the lone movie channel showed nothing but Scooby Doo and a documentary on angels for the whole 24 hours that we were there. The movie changed to Insomnia on Sunday, the day we were checking out, and I suppose it would be airing for the next 24 hours. I'm not complaining. Like I said, we did get what we went there for. But then, it could have been better. I learned my lesson. Next time, don't stinge on a holiday!
Are the people friendly? My ready answer would be, 'No.' But then I remember the male reservations clerk who attended to us hours before the 3pm check-in time indicated on the confirmation slip, the restaurant supervisor from whom I asked for some ice and welcomed my small talk about the weather while she was at it, the Resort Hotel guard who gladly took our picture (albeit, it didn't come out nicely), and their dining hall waiters who were very attentive, and I am moved to give a very reluctant, 'Yes.' Well, I guess these are the exceptions. It was hardly enough to dampen our weekend. Only thing is, with tourism being their main industry, I would have expected the people to be more convivial. One peculiarity in the place is the predominant absence of caucasian tourists. It's nice, in a way, to be among tourists with the same skin color as ours. Finally, I am in a place that has not become all agog about having caucasian visitors in their midst... Asia for Asians, so to speak. However, it has entered my mind that it's probably because of this that the people there were too stern for their own good. Exposure to people of other cultures, unsettling as it may sometimes be, does have its own merits.
Communication is not at all that difficult because the people do speak English. At the risk of being charged with putting them in a box and labeling them up, I would say that their English words are typical of their characteristics as a people. Meaning, they would be integrated into their daily lives without really circumventing their ways. Ergo, 'bus' would be spelled 'b-a-s,' 'sauce' would be 's-o-s,' and 'taxi' would be 't-e-k-s-i.'
And why my title? See, we weren't really planning on trying our luck at the casino. But as we were passing by it, we thought, why not give it a try? On our way in, the lady guard stopped us and said, 'Your dressing cannot inside.'
I said, 'Excuse me?'
And she reiterated, 'Your dressing cannot insiiiide,' while pointing to Papa, who was in his shorts and sandals.
Sigh! And I was this close to my first slot machine.
And as promised, here are the pictures. You can view the whole lot of them here. Let me just tease you with some of those I like most.
taken just a couple of hours after we arrived... on the bridge in some garden overlooking the city
at 4 weeks post-op, Papa's really looking good
... oo, malakas ang hangin sa labas
somehow I like this picture... bad as it is, it comes off as all sorts of dreamlike
the weather was like this the whole day we were there
I know that Tagalog and Malay have a lot of similarities...
... but what exactly does 'bomba' mean to them?
haaay... guwapo!
view from our hotel room
ayos ba tayo dyan, pare?...
Weeee!...
pa-cute...
mas pa-cute!...
My favorite part... the cable car ride. All around us was the green foliage of the rain forest, crisp mountain air and the blue of the sky above. Nothing would have been better than this...
... uhmm... if not for this
I'm going to interrupt myself in telling the story of Papa's hospital experience because... we're back from our weekend holiday in Genting! If I don't do this, the story will get stale as yesterday's porridge.
It was a nice weekend. Our primary goal in making this trip is to rest, somewhere where we could leave behind our daily mundane concerns, away from the stifling heat of the city, be where we can shed off our routines and not give a hoot whether it's time to eat, or sleep or get up from bed. And we got that. So it was nice.
It was cold in Genting alright. The whole Saturday that we were there, the city was enveloped in fog, the visibility was almost zero and we couldn't even see the street right beneath our bedroom window. As we couldn't get to our room at the Theme Park Hotel until after 10am, and we got there around 7am, we set off to tour the place after a not-so-enticing breakfast at our hotel's main dining hall, the Happy Valley Restaurant. There wasn't much to see. It was an absolutely man-made tourist getaway. You arrive by a cablecar, which deposits you right smack into the center of the mall (the main attraction of the First World Hotel). You then traverse a network of walkways, shops, fastfood enclaves, and escalators, past the casino (which is Genting Hotel's main attraction, aside from being the best hotel in the area), through the lobby of the Resort Hotel (which boasts of a huge indoor heated swimming pool), out into the street fronting the Theme Park, and into the not-so-waiting arms of its adjacent hotel, which is where we were booked. In short, you can tour all the main attractions in Genting Highlands without having to set foot on the city streets, which is, in my opinion, at odds with the very reason why Genting has become what it is, a place where you can breathe in a whiff of fresh, totally uncontrived, mountain air and scenery. What a shame that everything was so... concrete.
I guess it's my fault that we didn't have the best accommodations. Papa wanted to book us at the Genting Hotel, but for a miserly savings of S$60.00, I opted for the more economical Theme Park Hotel. We had a great view from our room, and the bed was comfortable enough, but we didn't have a ref and we couldn't ask for ice from housekeeping cause they didn't have room service, the bathroom didn't have a bathtub, the tv wasn't provided with a remote control and though they had cable, we couldn't even tune in to CNN or to any sports channel, and the lone movie channel showed nothing but Scooby Doo and a documentary on angels for the whole 24 hours that we were there. The movie changed to Insomnia on Sunday, the day we were checking out, and I suppose it would be airing for the next 24 hours. I'm not complaining. Like I said, we did get what we went there for. But then, it could have been better. I learned my lesson. Next time, don't stinge on a holiday!
Are the people friendly? My ready answer would be, 'No.' But then I remember the male reservations clerk who attended to us hours before the 3pm check-in time indicated on the confirmation slip, the restaurant supervisor from whom I asked for some ice and welcomed my small talk about the weather while she was at it, the Resort Hotel guard who gladly took our picture (albeit, it didn't come out nicely), and their dining hall waiters who were very attentive, and I am moved to give a very reluctant, 'Yes.' Well, I guess these are the exceptions. It was hardly enough to dampen our weekend. Only thing is, with tourism being their main industry, I would have expected the people to be more convivial. One peculiarity in the place is the predominant absence of caucasian tourists. It's nice, in a way, to be among tourists with the same skin color as ours. Finally, I am in a place that has not become all agog about having caucasian visitors in their midst... Asia for Asians, so to speak. However, it has entered my mind that it's probably because of this that the people there were too stern for their own good. Exposure to people of other cultures, unsettling as it may sometimes be, does have its own merits.
Communication is not at all that difficult because the people do speak English. At the risk of being charged with putting them in a box and labeling them up, I would say that their English words are typical of their characteristics as a people. Meaning, they would be integrated into their daily lives without really circumventing their ways. Ergo, 'bus' would be spelled 'b-a-s,' 'sauce' would be 's-o-s,' and 'taxi' would be 't-e-k-s-i.'
And why my title? See, we weren't really planning on trying our luck at the casino. But as we were passing by it, we thought, why not give it a try? On our way in, the lady guard stopped us and said, 'Your dressing cannot inside.'
I said, 'Excuse me?'
And she reiterated, 'Your dressing cannot insiiiide,' while pointing to Papa, who was in his shorts and sandals.
Sigh! And I was this close to my first slot machine.
And as promised, here are the pictures. You can view the whole lot of them here. Let me just tease you with some of those I like most.
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