The Travelling Black Bag said:

(because she wants to nail that travelogue waterloo)

March 20 2007 Bencoolen, Singapore 2:42 pm- 6:42 pm

Arrival

The travelling black bag arrived in Kula Lumpur past midnight, the black leather frayed and peeling. It wanted to be away from death, broken hearts, births, departures and deadlines. Its owner had left feeling naked and raw:

Upon being seen, the travelling black bag’s owner was told, “Ay, I have to buy you a new black bag.”

Its owner (an obedient younger sister) said, “Ok” as she:

washed the dishes,

threw away moulding food to eew,

stored packed food (like dried fish, hotdog, and Bicol Express) in the refrigerator,

folded plastic bags

and then clothes... in her sister’s condominium unit.

The travelling black bag watched as its owner sent messages back home, wrote in her journal, smoked, and then played with all of her sister’s pretty shoes while her sisters slept.

It remembered how its owner had called the flight attendant on the plane and clipped, “Please tell the person sitting behind me to stop kicking my seat. It’s keeping me awake” as it lovingly cradled it. It remembered how its owner cradled it in cars, rooms, bars, beaches, and it remembered the other hands that held it for her when it was too heavy--

It was 5 am: the travelling black bag slept knowing that this would be its last trip.

Then it was woken up

to “I’ll see you in Singapore, okay?” as the one its owner calls Egg rushed out of the door. Later on it was being filled again with clothes.

Its owner was warned, “Pack clothes that aren’t too revealing or something that would cover you up.”

Its owner muttered, “I love my country: I’m free to go around without wearing a damn bra.” Then its owner went through Egg’s lingerie and picked a new black Angels Secret Embrace bra. Perfect and mine now, its owner laughed.

Egg had said the night before that they would shop for lingerie (because the travelling black bag’s owner complained that every bra she owned seemed to stifle her). And really, its owner only had patience to shop for corsets, not bras. The bras that would fit her well were bought and given by Egg.

Then the travelling black bag was carried up and then jostled by the owner’s laptop bag, passing legs, hands, and car horns. Its owner ignored the looks--- at least she wasn’t wearing her bunny-ears hair band.

It heard its owner say, “This place is like Greenbelt Makati, only you wouldn’t find me walking there.” The travelling black bag agreed and like its owner, it only enjoyed walking in places (even when they detest walking) where no one knew them.

It heard its owner say to one she calls Magpie, “I love my country: people are definitely prettier and nicer.” The travelling black bag noticed that no one really smiled in this place and no one could speak in understandable English.

It laughed as its owner teased her sister, “You sound and look like you’re Thai when you speak in English to them. ‘Go’. ‘Yes’. Then you bow a little. ‘Far?’” Its owner’s favourite was when her sister would ask the servers “Can smoke here?” for her.

In the restaurant where they had lunch, its owner said, “No wonder Egg is having dizzy spells. It’s all chicken here. She needs meat, meat protein.” Its owner had resolved to cook sinigang, porkchop, beef steak or whatever meat dish she could cook while she was there.

Then its owner said, “I love my country. There’s meat!”

Magpie told her, “If we’re going to buy meat here to cook for Egg, we’ll be asked to handle the pork for them. They consider that dirty here, you know.”

Its owner replied, “I love my country where the majority says pork is not dirty.”

Then it was more walking and hailing a cab in the rain to go to the bus station.

On the Lazy Boy bus

its owner continued to read, fell asleep, then woke up to read John Wright’s Titans of Chaos once more.

Its owner chuckled as she read the part were Cupid aka Archer told Amelia, “Women are supposed to domesticate men...You sweet little dears cannot help your sweet little selves. You have to try to change men. Remember your sister, Circe? Women are like that in reverse. Turns pigs into human beings. But a man you can control is not really a man, is he? He’s a boychild, not a paterfamilias.”

The travelling black bag chuckled too as it saw the Punjab bear (eating chocolates) seated near them look at its chuckling owner. Then its owner noticed that it was raining once more. She said, “From KL to Singapore is like going to Baguio” and she remembers her last trip to Baguio... Smiles.

There was a bus stop around 6 pm and the travelling black bag was taken by its owner and Magpie to the ladies room. Magpie checked the urinals for its owner.

Its owner said, “I love my country where I don’t have to squat to pee.”

After that, its owner and her sister went around the stalls to find something to eat. Its owner spotted chicken, chicken and more chicken. There was one unsmiling female server who actually pushed her shoulder to indicate where the exit to the queue was.

“Hey!” the travelling black bag’s owner said. The server’s hand pushed her shoulder again which its owner lightly slapped away and said, “In my country, we don’t push people’s shoulders to indicate direction.” Then she muttered as she shook her head, “Yeah, we pout and point our lips and are proud of it.”

Then the travelling black bag’s owner spotted something that looked like meat. She ordered it and took a bite, “Ugh. Still chicken.”

It was already past 7 pm and it was still light.

Its owner had wondered what time the sun usually set here. Here was still Malaysia, but near the border to Singapore. She was thinking of how Manila looked at this time and was wondering what her loved ones were doing, feeling, thinking...

She remembered what someone told her days before she left, about this man’s life-list and that number one on his list was to marry this woman. He had said, “It’s 50-50. I’m working on it. I hope I really get to marry her.”

She knew that at that time, her cat was morose--- missing her.

Crossing the Border:

The immigration officer asked the travelling black bag’s owner, “Your mother?” referring to her sister.

Its owner laughed, “No. My sister.”

The officer asked, “Filipino?”

She smiled, “Yes.”

The officer asked, “First time in Singapore?”

She answered, “Yes.”

The officer said, deadpan, “Welcome to Singapore... Salamat.”

She laughed.

Then of course the travelling black bag had to go through the Red Channel--- to declare the two packs of Marlboro reds in it.

Its owner thought, Yeah, Singapore. I bet you can’t even fart in public here. And really if they had asked why the travelling black bag had two packs of Marlboros (while the non-smoking Magpie stashed another pack in her bag), it would have answered, “We write, we smoke, cliché or not, fuck off.”

The attending officers asked its owner about her brown Filipino passport--- which made her think that she would be taken away and jailed now for some offense.

Magpie answered, “It’s the new one issued now. Mine is old and it’s green. See? Is there a problem?”

The officer said, “No, no, we were just looking at the new ones. The new US passports now are not blue.”

The travelling black bag’s owner smiled whew.

Later on its owner told Magpie about what the immigration officer said and Magpie answered, “Shit! Do I look that old??”

Its owner said, “No, no, I said to the officer ‘Are you kidding me? That’s my sister and she’s only 45!’ He-he-he.” She’s only 35, by the way.

Magpie answered, “Heh! Sa airport sa Pilipinas pinagkamalan tayong friends, di ba? Dito magnanay??”

Its owner answered, “Parang nun sa UP nun, di ba? Pero ang sabi naman dun ‘Uy, ang bata naman ng Nanay mo.’ Hehehe . I love you Mom! Hehehe.”

More Crossing Over:

Magpie had asked, “Want to cross over to Indonesia when we get back to KL?”

Its owner asked, “Where there?”

Magpie answered, “Jakarta.”

Its owner groaned then laughed, “Sure.”

The travelling black bag thought, I knew it! This is just so like her universe and her brain: do everything at the same time! Her passport is new and it would be riddled with stamps in just one trip!

Its owner said, “Though I have to come and meet the godfather of Malaysian punk and indie scene first. Mervo said so. I’m curious.”

The wonders of VOIP:

Then the travelling black bag’s owner’s Oso called their hotel room at past 10 pm. Tired, its owner didn’t really think anymore what he meant when he sent a message saying he would call, asking her what hotel in Singapore, what number, and what room number.

She just gave out the information.

She had complained hours before in a text message that the roaming costs was really limiting her. Oso had said, “But you have YM now!”

She said, “If I’m in Wifi zone” and said that it made her feel like a mouse everyone’s going to pounce on. When the cat was setting it up for her before she left, her cat told her that her message board lit up with. And she received text messages asking “You have YM now?” when obviously she didn’t message them back.

And she remembered how Oso had roared, “Why are you in YM?!”

To which she said, “We’re testing it out so that I could talk to people while I’m away.” And then she roared back, “Why are you angry?!”

When Magpie held the phone out to her and said, “It’s Oso”, the travelling black bag’s laughed out, “Yeah, yeah, yeah! It’s the VOIP!”

The first thing he said was, “I can’t understand their English!”

Its owner laughed, “Me neither! Magpie does the talking!”

Then he told her about how he sprained his ankle. No, he was not drunk, just that the stairs in their house were newly mopped by the maid. He was popping painkillers. He won’t be driving to Tarlac obviously and his mom got a driver. Of course your cat misses you, duh, he said. And that he would likely keep him company while she was away (just like he foretold).

He had promised that he, they, wouldn’t do anything she wouldn’t like, or would piss her off, or would make her cut their balls off and then cut them off.

And, “Don’t tell me you’re still writing?? Break!! Have fun there!”

Later on, its owner laughingly told its Oso, “You’re weird. You call me WHEN I’m abroad. Different but weird.” Then its owner reminded him to be good while she was away, just like how she reminded the Perp to be good and to keep watch over Sir Pao to make sure he’s not over-thinking the universe.

The next day:

It’s raining again. The travelling black bag was not looking forward to the rainy trip to the National University of Singapore; it had a tendency to go forth and multiply like a gremlin when wet.

Magpie had asked the Cab driver (in Singaporean English which is different from Malaysian English), “Is the education for kids here free?”

The cab driver laughed, “No, no, in Singapore schooling is not free. Singapore, not free.”

And really, he said, no chewing of gum allowed.

And really, you can pay the cab via credit card because they have credit card machines in the cab.

Guess what the travelling black bag’s owner was doing in the National University of Singapore?

Its owner thought, It’s as huge as UP Diliman, only it seems to have the La Salle AND UA&P vibe.

Into a case of Museum Overdose:

After NUS, the travelling black bag went to the National Museum of Singapore. It went

through a treat in art, history, and technology--- they had ear-phones and electronic

guides for each individual for the whole tour.

Its owner had asked Magpie, “How come we don’t have this?”

Magpie said, “It’s so expensive.”

And the travelling black bag gawked at what looked like a giant David maché in the lobby. In pink. Its owner had a picture taken of her hands reaching towards that pink perfect giant ass.

Then it was off to the Singaporean Art Museum. Its owner had laughingly groaned to Magpie, “I can only take so much museum torture! Go around and I’ll sit first.”

Its owner wanted a cool drink and nicotine.

Its owner saw that there is an ongoing rat exhibition (until September 21 2008): “A Rat’s Tale”. Rats, the brochure said, are the second most successful mammals after humans.

Its owner thought, that makes sense. Then she looks at the red sticker that came with the ticket for the museum that says “ART no experience is necessary”. The travelling black bag’s owner thought, Now THAT makes sense.

She pasted the sticker on her journal and drew a rat wiggling into a hole beside it. She wrote on her journal: I love my country! The urinals; The people can speak in English; You can smoke anywhere; You can (not) wear whatever you want; You can fart in public; Everything’s cheaper...I think of “The Travelling Black Bag” that went on a trip to Malaysia (to shoes), the chicken (only) country, to a bus to Singapore (where it met a bear Punjabi who likes chocolates; the signal to a bus stop end), to immigration...

Its owner said to Magpie:

“After this, I’m going back to the hotel. You go visit more of your museums. I need to write.”

Magpie asked:

Again? Why? (Sigh) Fine.

And the travelling black bag said:

This and because in the hotel room, she can finally smoke in peace while in no-no-can’t-smoke-Singapore.