“Are you mad?”

“So, you will be relying on strangers to offer you food and accommodation? Wow, that’s exciting!”

“Are you for real? London with nothing but a smartphone, social media, and 10 items? That’s nuts.”

These were but some of the first reactions I received from family and friends when I told them I was embarking on this journey to London for a week for the social media experiment themed “Can Man Live on Social Media Alone?”.

The spiel:

“In conjunction with Social Media Week 2012, Can Man Live on Social Media Alone is a daring cross-city social experiment to evaluate whether one intrepid traveller can depend on nothing but the goodwill of locals and the power of social media to survive in a foreign city for one week.  From 10 – 16 February, our #CanManSG and our #CanManLondon will trade cities, power up their social media channels and prepare for the best (or worst).

Along with the clothes on their back and a smartphone, each candidate will be given the opportunity to bring ten non-digital items in a backpack as part of their survival kit. In addition to having to ensure they have food and lodging each day, the candidates will be issued daily tasks, which will be posted on their Facebook walls. In the spirit of social good, the tasks will be charitable in nature and will help raise awareness around specific causes within the respective city.”

And so, yes, it’s true. I’ll be in London from 10 – 16 February 2012. However, with no money, no accommodation and no food to even speak of, I need the help of each and everyone in the Social Media world so that I can fulfill the tasks.
Here’s how you can help:

1. ‘Like’ this page for updates on the tasks I’ll be carrying out – your tips may just help me help others.
2. Follow my tweets at @deafknee for live updates on this social experiment.
3. Offer me accommodation: yes, without your help, I may just end up sleeping on the park bench (did someone say Hyde Park?), or under the bridge (ah Tower Bridge is a good spot you say?). And no, I don’t think London’s benches will like me very much.
4. Feed Me: Oh yes please. I’d love you, you, you and you if you’d feed me.
5. Offer me transport: Oyster Card is the way to go I hear. One that is topped up to last tube rides for 5 days will be much (and I mean, MUCH) appreciated.
And yes, I also need a ride from the airport when I arrive!

Wanna help me to help others? Drop me a ping on my FB page or tweet me at @deafknee.

So, Can Man (or woman) really Live on Social Media Alone?

Only with your help will we know.

Ps: don’t forget to give Martin, the Love Messenger (@SMWLoveMessengr) my counterpart who is coming from London to Singapore, some support too: https://www.facebook.com/CanManLondon

Money does not grow on trees. Or does it?

Talk about taking things literal – behold, a money tree.

I swore this was some contemporary artist’s idea of an art installation, in the middle of a trail up to the Great Wall of China. Then, I was kindly informed by Flora that this piece of art was less an “installation” and was probably more of a “tradition”, of another country that is.

According to this article, it seems as if locals in some parts of the UK have been, for years, going into the forest and knocking coins into trees, creating these “money trees”. I’m not quite sure whether this particular tree in the vicinity of one of China’s biggest tourist spots was a result of a traveller from the UK who decided he wanted to bring a little of the woods back home halfway across the world to China. But hey, it’s cool nonetheless.

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Every photograph we take contains a story, but we often do not spend enough time sharing that story with others. Hence, Foto Friday was born to give some recognition to these forgotten photographs and the memories they hold. Taken over many trips (2004-present) using my crappy cameras and whatever minimal photography skills I have, these photographs serve to give you a little insight into my travels. And if you haven’t realised by now, they’ll be out on Fridays.

Piles and piles of styrofoam boxes lay on the ground at Tsukiji Fish Market. Styrofoam is widely used to store the fish sold at this wholesale fish market in Tokyo, the largest of its kind on the world. “Such a waste of styrofoam”, I remember thinking when walking past the area, wondering where all the boxes goes to after use.

I did a quick search online and came across this post about Tsukiji Fish Market that mentions the aerated styrofoam storage bins and the “recycling point” of the styrofoam boxes. I’m not sure whether these boxes get thrown away or get recycled – it seems the writer is unsure as well. [Edits: Thanks Justin for pointing out that the boxes are indeed "heat-treated and recycled".]

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Every photograph we take contains a story, but we often do not spend enough time sharing that story with others. Hence, Foto Friday was born to give some recognition to these forgotten photographs and the memories they hold. Taken over many trips (2004-present) using my crappy cameras and whatever minimal photography skills I have, these photographs serve to give you a little insight into my travels. And if you haven’t realised by now, they’ll be out on Fridays.

Taken with a Superheads Golden Half Camera

Blocks of empty concrete buildings sit atop the hill at Dover Close. The flats, vacated of its occupants to make way for newer developments just weeks before, locked up for eternity, have started to collect dust.

I walk along the quiet corridors of the point block facing the old market and imagine what life in this old housing estate must have been before its residents were forced to move out. It must have been a bustling neighbourhood with children playing a game of catching along these corridors. The elderly likely whiled away their time chatting with their neighbours.

At the ground level of these blocks stand rows of shuttered shops. Some of these shops used to sell electrical appliances. Others, selling paint. There must have been a bakery or two, but I did not notice. Nearby, and not pictured here, is an old stone playground, almost “extinct” in this time and age in Singapore, in a shape of a Pelican. The roundabout has been removed, the seats of the swing missing.

The romantic side of me laments how old things in Singapore disappear so fast that in a matter of one generation so much has changed, and now, this estate is rapid development’s latest victim.

Dover Close Estate was slated to be demolished at the end of 2011. Does anyone have any idea whether these buildings still stand?

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Every photograph we take contains a story, but we often do not spend enough time sharing that story with others. Hence, Foto Friday was born to give some recognition to these forgotten photographs and the memories they hold. Taken over many trips (2004-present) using my crappy cameras and whatever minimal photography skills I have, these photographs serve to give you a little insight into my travels. And if you haven’t realised by now, they’ll be out on Fridays.

The area, which was formerly home to factories back in the 1950s, has since been fully converted to shops, galleries and cafes – only structures such as chimneys and pipes stand as reminders of this area’s former industrial glory.

The art-inclined traveller would fit right into 798 Art Zone (also known as 798 Art District), which houses many contemporary art galleries, museums and spaces. For the not-so-art-inclined, but fans of communist-inspired works nonetheless, there are shops a plenty selling little knick-knacks like – souvenir shopping anyone?

Long Live Chairman Mao! (毛主席万岁!) – 798 Space gallery

I personally loved the many cafés that were abound in this area. Escape the cold, or the heat, and pop into any cafe, just like I did. The one I went into served a mean cheese fondue, perfect for the blistering late autumn chill of Beijing the time I was there. Yes, Swiss cheese fondue in Beijing – probably not authentic, but yummy all the same.

In true artsy fashion, the roads and pathways are too, haphazard – it is almost impossible to navigate yourself around the area for the roads there have no comprehensible system. With names such as “Ceramics Third Street” that do not even show on any available map, it is simply better to walk, get lost in the process, and enjoy the art installations along the way.

I could swear every other person posed beside these statues

There are, however, some signboards along the way, though I have to admit they’re hardly handy.

Despite it being almost an hour’s drive from the main city centre, 798 Art Zone could possibly be the place I’d hang out at frequently, if only I lived in Beijing. And if I ever do return to Beijing one day, I know where my first stop will be.

798 Art Zone (798艺术区)
Dashanzi Zone, Chaoyang District
Off Jiu Xian Qiao Lu (酒仙桥路)

Looking back at my travels in 2011, I’ve had many moments worth sharing that I’ve just have not had the time to put down in words yet.

The latter part of 2011 was busy to say the least, and travelling and blogging has taken a bit of a backseat. I even chose to do nothing but rest for the last week of the year, after Christmas, when I could have easily taken off to a nearby destination for a least a couple of days.

But I’m back this year with travel plans not quite fleshed out yet, though definitely in the works. And yes, I’ll be back to blog about these trips, and the trips from the past year.

Where would my wanderlust lead me this year? We will wait and see.

There’s a sort of charm in the old and decaying, the abandoned and decrepit.

I came across this huge neglected building stripped to its metal skeleton near the hotel I stayed in during a recent visit to Batam, Indonesia. I’m not sure what this building used to be, but my guess is that it was an old factory in its glory days, now disused and left to decay.

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Every photograph we take contains a story, but we often do not spend enough time sharing that story with others. Hence, Foto Friday was born to give some recognition to these forgotten photographs and the memories they hold. Taken over many trips (2004-present) using my crappy cameras and whatever minimal photography skills I have, these photographs serve to give you a little insight into my travels. And if you haven’t realised by now, they’ll be out on Fridays.

It’s funny how for years you think about visiting Beijing and its Forbidden City (紫禁城) and you imagine it to be this awe-inspiring and grandiose structure, with gold-plated doors and antiques that overflow its halls.

You expect to feel a sense of delight walking through the doors, walkways and halls, a bit like how Château de Versialles of Paris once took your breath away.

You even imagine meeting some royalty strolling through the gardens with their entourage in tow, the gardens a charming one and a place of peace, with pavilions and bridges with waterways flowing underneath. Or perhaps even seeing the king looking down toward his people, just like in the period dramas you’re oh-so-familiar with.

(I kid. Hi there Qianlong! 万岁万岁万万岁!)

But yet, the day you finally visit the Forbidden City, you feel underwhelmed, bored, and utterly disappointed. Though the whole palace area is the largest in the world, the buildings look the same to you (or perhaps you don’t have the eye for appreciating such works of architectural art), the halls are elusive (more on that later), and the gardens so dull you wonder how Emperors and scholars could have spent their days there creating prose and poetry.

And to top it all, you visit the grounds with throngs of other people, making the experience an overwhelming and suffocating one.

And yes that was exactly how I felt when visiting the Forbidden City on a cool autumn morning this November.

Pushing through the crowds of people, I made my way into the Forbidden City. And with no disrespect to the countrymen of my ancestors, I could swear the whole of China decided to visit the Forbidden City that day.

When I saw the crowd gathering at the South Entrance not long after the doors opened, I should have known.

And here is Chairman Mao watching over his people at Tiananmen Square.

People were everywhere, I could hardly see the ground.

The people came in tour groups. And in a very communistic fashion, each tour group wore colour-coded caps or hats and sometimes even marched in rows.

I walked through the grounds of the Forbidden City and listened as my audio guide described the various halls, and its former use and glory. Yet, it was virtually impossible to view any of the halls and its interior.

Visitors are not allowed to enter halls for fairly obvious reasons – everything would be destroyed in a day. Hence, crowds like these gathered at the opening of each hall, each person hoping to get an opportunity to view the interiors.

I made attempts at several halls, but my efforts came to nought. After pushing through a crowd similar to the one pictured above, I finally got a glimpse of the interior of one hall, or rather at least my camera did. I literally had to stretch my hand out to snap this shot as I could barely see what I was photographing.

Here it is, the elusive sight of the interior of one hall. I honestly cannot even remember which hall this is:

Suffice to say, not every place was jam-packed. If fact, my travel companions and I even managed to find an area that was almost completely empty:

Ah fresh air.

After facing such disappointment at possibly Beijing’s biggest attraction (after the Great Wall), we skipped Temple of Heaven and the Summer Palace.

Would I ever visit the Forbidden City again? Probably not. I can fight crowds in any other city in any other part of the world without paying a RMB40 entrance fee.

But I’m glad I did visit it, for I would have never known, that sometimes, places look better in your head and in period dramas.

[Editor's Note: I lie. Yes, there were a lot of people and it was truly difficult to view the halls, but it really was not that unbearably crowded that day. I just dramatise for the sake of. But other than that, the sentiment of the Forbidden City being a disappointment is the complete truth.

And despite the Forbidden City being a disappointment, thanks boss for making this trip possible.]

But one long weekend, my friends and I took a rather impromptu trip to Batam. One of them had been there before and said it was not too bad a travel destination. And I have to admit, though I splurged a little on this trip (by my standards that is. To me: the cheaper the better. I even stayed in a HOTEL here for a first time in years), I had great fun while at it.

Here’s what we did:

Go-karting:

Water sports such as banana boating and parasailing:

Beering:

Doing nothing by the pool:

And massage.

If you’re looking for a place in Indonesia that is culturally Indonesian and at Indonesian prices, then Batam is definitely not the place to visit – honestly, given the number of Singaporeans on the island, it is a mini Singapore with cheaper than Singaporean prices. Dammit, everything is even calculated in Singapore dollars. But if you live in Singapore and do want to escape the hustle and bustle of the city for a weekend, then Batam really is not too bad a place to visit.

Ahh. And a simple weekend escape is what I call a good life.

(Pardon the poor quality of the photos as they are taken from a phone camera)

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In Waterfront City, Batam:

To do watersports (Parasailing, Banana Boat, Jetski, Wakeboarding, Kayaking), you may visit the watersports centre at Harris Resort Marina.
Price: about SGD55 for a package deal of Parasailing, Banana Boat and Jetskiing

To Go-Kart, you may visit the Go-Karting track next to Harris Resort.
Price: SGD15 (for Harris Resort guests), SGD18 (for everyone else)

Anyone who has ever stepped foot on the sacred volcano of Gunung Rinjani in Lombok, Indonesia will be able to attest to its absolute beauty. One of the best views one can take in while within the premises of the national park is that from the crater rim of the volcano’s turquoise crater lake, Segara Anak, and the “baby” volcano that sits atop of it, Gunung Baru. Gunung Baru, which translates to “New Mountain”, has in recent years, been renamed to Gunung Barujari, which means “Finger Mountain”. The volcano erupted as recently as May 2010.

While most people who visit the national park spend their time trekking to the summit of Gunung Rinjani, camping along the crater rim, or soaking in the natural hot springs near the Segara Anak, few dare, or even think, of climbing the still active Gunung Baru. When my friends and I visited the national park in late 2005, not only did we climb Gunung Baru, over and above the full summit trek from Senaru to Sembalun, we did all these in three days, when most people would take at least five to six days to do the same trek, without Gunung Baru. Were we crazy? Yes. And my aching body that followed would completely agree.

The climb up Gunung Baru was no easy task – with every step one took up slopes of the volcano, one would descend another three steps, pulled down by the loose volcanic soil that covered the slopes. The frustration of descending more than ascending was a lot to bear. Wearing only a thin cotton tee and running shorts, I took to my fours, and scrambled my way up the hill. Scratches all over my limbs ensued, but at that point, it completely did not matter. All I wanted was to make it to the top.

It didn’t help that just when we were barely starting, the November monsoon Indonesian rain fell upon us, making the volcanic soil looser than it already was. Rocks, the size of my head, started flying down, often accidentally kicked down by my companions who were further up the slope. Like a game of dodge ball, I moved from side to side to avoid the rocks. Suffice to say, I really feared for my life there and then. Freezing, drenched, and completely exhausted, I knelt on the gravel and paused for a few minutes, and just broke down.

I remember meeting some of my friends midway as they were making their way down. Thankfully, I did not know that they had actually given up halfway and were turning back. In fact, I thought that they had already made it to the top, and decided to make the descend earlier.

Back then, we were foolish and wore our Asics on our trek (and damaging them). But I watched with amazement as our local guide ascended at many times my own speed in just flip flops and knew that while the right footwear mattered, a strong physique, some level of skill, and sheer determination was more important.

And sheer determination it was, coupled with some pride I admit, made me push on.

Of my contigent of 16 people, only nine of us made it to the top. I was the last. The first of my group reached almost an hour before I did. I stayed for a mere five minutes before we were instructed to descend, lest we run out of time to reach our next camping destination on the crater rim. But the five minutes on the summit of this unassuming volcano was simply liberating and filled with an extreme sense of achievement that I have since never been able to replicate.

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Every photograph we take contains a story, but we often do not spend enough time sharing that story with others. Hence, Foto Friday was born to give some recognition to these forgotten photographs and the memories they hold. Taken over many trips (2004-present) using my crappy cameras and whatever minimal photography skills I have, these photographs serve to give you a little insight into my travels. And if you haven’t realised by now, they’ll be out on Fridays.