Arrived after a slightly troublesome journey, with delayed flights, no food, a difficult email for the GF and my realising that I’d forgotten my contacts, without which I can’t snorkel or dive – my eyes are at -8 and I might as well be blind wearing goggles.
Most of this was eventually resolved – no traffic on the road between the airport and our resort in Tanjong Jara, a mediocre but acceptable meal started it off, then we learned that there was sepak takraw being played which the GF has long wanted to try at a sort of sanitised village fayre they do at the resort on Saturdays. This gave a breather as the GF played and I wandered around listening to the music. Meanwhile I had found a local optometrist and what appeared to be their mobile number so I sent a WhatsApp message. It turned out they did have my prescription, but only in brown tinted lenses, so for the first and probably the last time in my life I shall swan around (albeit underwater) with coloured eyes.
I left the GF doing yoga and walked to the entrance of the resort. Outside it felt delightfully free (I loathe resorts), and I walked for a bit along the road, past little warnings and satay stalls, and a mosque in the local style, with sweeping pagoda-like roofs rather than the dome and minaret I am so used to. Then I returned to the gate and chatted to the security guard, an Indian from India. I told him I was from Lahore and he exclaimed in delight that he’d been there for two days, rolled up his trousers, and showed me a massive bullet wound. Of course he was there as part of the Indian army in 1971, but he didn’t seem to hold the bullet against me and instead assured me (I think – his Hindi was not too close to my Urdu) that wars are fought between uniforms, not people.
Then my lenses arrived and I walked back to the room where the GF is not yet back – I hope he is not waiting for me by the yoga, but I am sure it will occur to him eventually to come here.