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Why We Travel

On my last trip to Taipei, I checked into a room that would prove to be more than I could handle.

Advertised as an ‘executive’ room, the photos on my booking app presented a clean, spacious and bright room – ticking off three items on my very short list of requirements for overseas accommodation.

Assured, I went ahead with the booking.

Photograph by liuliuliuxinwei on Instagram
Photograph by liuliuliuxinwei on Instagram

When I arrived at the property, I was confused. The room was clad in marble lined with steel trimmings, looking like the secret backroom of a particularly adventurous nightclub. The windows weren’t helping things; they were partially blocked by a signboard outside, leaving only the top quarter for me to peek out of – handy for spotting police raids maybe?

Look, I swear I went to a fully registered, family-style hotel. But I felt like I had booked myself an underground den in somebody’s illegal establishment. The dark green marble of the bathroom looked straight out of a seedy mid 80s gangster movie.

I marvelled at the gulf between the photos and the actual room I was now standing in, and later found the answer. The fluorescent lights in the room made everything oppressively bright, handily altering the feel of the room in the photographs.

I was scheduled for a three-day stay in this room, so I shrugged and strove to make the best of it. That night at 4am, the lights in the room started flickering on and off. By themselves.

Between profuse apologies and harried mutterings of faulty wiring, the night manager moved me to another room on their property – this time a gaily coloured family-style room featuring two beds and more pastel shades than I ever thought existed.

I’m not superstitious but I left my luggage case open on the bed I wasn’t sleeping on.

Photograph by Andreas Brücker on Unsplash
I’ll never know for sure what really happened that night, but that’s not the point.

The thing is, travel has enriched me with more adventures and experiences than I could ever hope to have if I had kept to my own little corner of the world.

Take, for example, the last time I was in Bangkok, which coincided with the New Year.

Getting ready for a night out, my friends and I were distracted by the sounds of fireworks going off from the houses situated just across the road from our hotel.

We drew back the curtains to discover flashes of colour perilously close to us; with every burst followed by a chorus of high-pitched laughter, and occasionally, throaty guffaws and cheers of ‘Happy New Year!’

With a wry smile and a slight shake of my head, I reminded myself this was Bangkok, and things were done differently here. And as if to drive home the point, the entire street erupted into a countdown… “10… 9…. 8….” the voices went, growing in number and volume by the second.

When the voices reached “0”, the entire scene in front of us exploded in an orgy of fireworks stretching as far as we could see. The streetside displays were mere opening acts; just behind, the riverside district, studded with gleaming skyscrapers, shot off the largest, brightest and longest-lasting fireworks of the night.

Photograph by Yuiizaa September on Unsplash.

Caught unprepared, I found myself snatched up in a surreal moment, thrust into a magical land where the river Nagas had arisen to shower their blessings onto the good people of Bangkok.

As we left the hotel to join the city-wide celebrations – hurried along by never-ending cascades of New Year toasts and some scattered instances of Auld Lang Syne – I couldn’t help but give thanks for what I had experienced. Trust me, you haven’t experienced the full joy of fireworks until they are literally close enough to touch.

To say that travel broadens our horizons is to state the obvious, but the trick is, only fellow travellers will understand the depth and richness that can only come from taking the journey yourself.

Strolling by the river at the tail-end of spring in the verdant city of Hangzhou (watch out Singapore; here’s a serious contender for the title ‘City in a Garden’), it was the fragrance of osmanthus flowers in full bloom that made the experience at once real and surreal.

A city in rapid development – much like Singapore was maybe 20 years ago – Hangzhou offers unabashed juxtaposition between its historic past and the prosperous future it doggedly pursues.

The sight of old riverside warehouses that front the placid waters of the Westlake Historic District – no doubt centuries old – nursing top international high-street brands within their history-drenched bosoms offered a startling glimpse of the city’s past and future.

But it was the sweet, lilting fragrance that wafted full tilt at that instant that rooted me into the moment in a way no documentary or Insta-story ever could.

Photograph by Ivy Tears on Instagram.

Later, sitting and sipping Hey Tea in a similarly historic building just meters away, I felt a sudden spring of pride and appreciation for my Chinese friend – a Hangzhou native graciously playing host to this clueless Singaporean.

So why do we travel? What compels us to leave the comforts of home and explore parts unknown, putting us at risk of uncomfortable situations?

I humbly propose we travel because we can’t help ourselves.

Photograph by pkbtran on Instagram

On the drive to the airport on the night I left Hangzhou, I was stunned into silence when the central business district came into view.

For a glorious twenty minutes, skyscraper after LED-studded skyscraper swung past in an endless parade of logos and brands, representing commercial and capital forces I could never hope to comprehend.

But unlike the densely packed character of our beloved Marina Bay, the Hangzhou Qianjiang CBD lies sprawled along the langurous Qiantang River, dotted almost carelessly with commercial skyscrapers across its span.

The unfolding panorama told a story of an emperor getting dressed, each gleaming property a priceless jewel affixed to silken robes.

Awed at the sight, I made a silent promise to travel farther and more often.

I had no other choice.

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