I visited Mantin with my sister and a friend last weekend. It was a much awaited road trip away from traffic, the suburbs and shopping malls. We headed south where my friend’s grandma lives peacefully with her own vegetable farm. This is as organic as it gets. The roads are narrower, the air cleaner, insects louder and cars quieter. Funner.
We were greeted with a large pot of black bean soup with carrots and pork bones. No salt. His grandma also seemed happy to see him with two girls in his hometown. I’m just amazed at her ability to live so organically and cycle everywhere.
We walked around the small town and weaved ourselves in and out of the labyrinth-like kampung. We visited a Catholic church and its graveyard and school. Here the old men rare birds, young men play ping pong and little boys have cock fights in their backyards. Life here is as slow as a clogged drain. Life trickles.
The coffee even tasted better.
I was at a wedding last week and I have another one this weekend. And two more to go till this year ends. Is there a limit to how many weddings a person can attend? There should be a rule and a quota somewhere because I’ve managed to find myself invited for another wedding in the first quater of 2009. Weddings are a bit like funerals. They bring people and communities together and the victims (or couples) find themselves on another journey.
I’ve not really thought about my wedding or when I will marry, but having an overdose of weddings have made me appreciate the simpler things a whole lot more. So this is how my dream wedding will be like:
Option 1: At a field, under a tree. No chairs/seating arrangements. Picnic or potluck. No altar. Just rugs and blankets.
Option 2: By the beach. Barbecue and beer. Flipflops. Or barefoot. A lot of waves and a load of fun.
This was at the Catholic school. Campy fun.
My friend dug the cupboard below the altar (dedicated to three gods and ancestors) and found a framed photo of Hong Kong singer/actor Jacky Cheung in a weird sweater and dated jeans in full 80s glory. I’m just glad it wasn’t a full body photo. His shoes could be checkered and his jeans could be carrot cut.