Braving Brunei: The Gift

"Mga ten to fifteen minutes lang siguro," the hotel staff says in Filipino. Downtown Bandar Seri Begawan, he said, is just about a quarter of an hour away. Though you are about 800 miles away from Manila, you instantly feel like you are home - almost all the staff members of your hotel on Jalan Tutong are Filipinos, from the front desk clerks,  to the room attendants, and even to the restaurant staff.

It is almost 10AM. You swear it must be at least 34 degrees Celsius. Under the mind-blowing, blazing heat of the sun, outside your hotel, Mexie, your friend, pulls out a map as she wipes her forehead with her right arm. You feel heavy sweating on your back. Ignoring this, you pull out your map too, as TC, your favorite travel companion, starts taking photos again of what seems to be just buildings.

Your fingers trace the road you intend to take, to get to downtown BSB.

"The guy said it'd just be 15 minutes," you tell them both, as if asking for approval that it's a good idea to walk, despite the heat. You need to save for last minute shopping, of course. So every cent counts.

Mexie agrees, "I do not see any buses around anyway." TC, who seems indifferent whether we make it at all to downtown adds, "I don't think there are taxis here either."

So, the majority has spoken - we are walking.

You see a tailoring shop in a shopping arcade near your hotel. You decide to ask for directions from a local. The friendly Indian-looking tailor gives you instructions to just cross the road, right outside the complex, and just keep on walking. What's tricky about your map is that it does not distinguish an alley from a main road at all. Thus, the confusion.

"Terima kasih," you thank the tailor, in Bahasa Malay, which is what the locals speak in Bandar Seri Begawan, Brunei.

Scanning the horizon from left to right, you wonder where North is. Yes, you know how to read a map. But when it gets to a map like this, where you do not even know where you are, all the hope you have left is some local who'd point you to the right direction.

"I think it's that way," you point to the giant billboard. TC and Mexie, who are obviously sweating and thirsty by now, follow. This gotta be the right way. This has to work, or else, you know they would blame you later.

You cross the street and follow a concrete path, only to find yourself in the middle of a park with no real way out. You are surrounded by all sorts of tropical plants. It really feels like home.

The three if you  can see the main road a few meters away And seeing that the road is a little blurry only means one thing: it's already too hot out here, so you have to find at least a place to rest at.

Now if you get to the road, you know you'd have to jaywalk. You have heard of the harsh punishments Brunei has for breaking the law and you are not about to do that in another country. But seeing the main road, which looks like an exit from the freeway, you run towards it, with TC and Mexie shrieking at the top of their lungs as they follow you. You are all scared to be caught running on a pathless patch of land which is also submerged in a little water. Mexie almost left her right shoe, as it was muddy too.

"One-two-three. NOW!", you and your gang cross the main road, from under a giant billboard.

You check if someone saw you. You look to your left. You look to your right. And you realized, you should have done this (yeah, looking to the left and right) before crossing the street.

"Close call, we're safe," Mexie says, as she continues walking and rubbing her shoe against the pavement, to remove the mud. TC, as if nothing happened, continues taking some shots on his Fisheye.

About half an hour after leaving your hotel, and already feeling (and probably smelling) like sun-dried fish, you decide to rest in a waiting shed.

"Do you think we should take the bus?", you ask them, as you see one going the opposite direction. You all agree that based on the map, you should be close anyway. Besides, it looks like Mexie is enjoying this long walk. TC couldn't care less, still - he's taking his pictures.

So you continue treading the supposed 15-minute path, as the sun cooks you from rare to medium well done. Ten more minutes and the chef would probably throw you out the window.

The walk is an interesting one, though not as eventful as other countries you have visited. Brunei really looks like home, minus the trash on the streets, the homeless people, and the bumper-to-bumper traffic. Here, you can take a deep breath without the risk of lung cancer.

About an hour after, you spot something. The coffee shop signage looks like an oasis to you, Mexie, and TC. You are way, way dehydrated. So you take a much needed 20-minute rest. You couldn't believe the hotel staff. He said 15 minutes and here you are, you don't even know where you are.

"Can we smoke outside?," you ask the barista who you swear could pass for a Filipino. He explains with his Malay accent, "No smoking outside, but sometimes people still smoke there." Great, now you can smoke. While pulling out your pack of Marlboro Lights from your front pocket, you confirm again, "There are no cops, right?"

"That, I do not know. Maybe, sometimes."

Okay, that's enough to give this up. You'd find a place to smoke later anyway, you tell yourself, but that's not what the sign outside the coffee shop says.

You swear to God that there's a list of about 20 or more places you cannot smoke at (including coffee shops), or else you will be fined (or maybe jailed, you think). It's almost as if it is telling you that you won't get to smoke anymore until you get out of the country; which shouldn't be long from now.

This, after all, is just an overnight sidetrip. You wonder if Mexie and TC feel the same way. Like what the Filipino waiter said yesterday, "I'm sure di na kayo babalik dito." She's sure that we won't come back anymore.

The three of you proceed to navigate the side streets of what seems to be already downtown. Sensing that this alley does not necessarily have vehicular traffic, you light a cig, with much excitement like a 4-year old opening a candy bar, observing if the locals would frown at the act. And since no one really seems to care, despite what you read about smoking in front of Muslim being disrespectful, you manage to steal four or five puffs before putting it out, and run towards Mexie and TC to see if they have found your destination.

The  narrow road now leads to a busier area, and from where you, Mexie and TC stand, you see a river. You cross the road, while already following traffic rules.

You stand in the middle of what looks like a town plaza and marvel at Kampung Ayer at the other side of the river.

Kampung Ayer is a water village, where houses are built on stilts. It kinda looks like some of the houses in Manila Bay, except that as far as you are concerned, there are no poor people in Brunei. With its rich oil reserves, the working class does not even have to worry about income tax.

Boats acting like river taxis transport people from where you are to Kampung Ayer. There are probably hundreds or even thousands of houses across the river. You ask Mexie and TC if they want to take a river taxi and just sail around, but one travel article your read about an accident convinces you it's not a good idea anyway.

You cross the road again to what looks like a commercial center. The Yayasan Sultan Haji Hassanal Bolkiah Complex is actually a medium-sized mall selling clothing, jewelry, and a lot of other things.

You only want to find one item in this mall before heading back to your hotel to catch your 5PM flight back to Kota Kinabalu.

Two hours after leaving your hotel, which should have been only 15 minutes according to the hotel staff, you start digging through a pile of Giordano shirts for women. You find it and you smile. You pay for the shirt, with the sales clerk probably wondering if it is for you. But you do not care.

It's enough reason to brave this two-hour, heat stroke-causing walk.

You pull out the I LOVE BRUNEI  t-shirt from its bag on your way home. It's for your mom. She'd be very happy to try this on.

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Happy Mother's Day everyone!

Taipei Tales: Tall Order

What's the difference between tall and high?

"Are you sure you want to have dinner there?," you ask TC, your travel companion, as you insert your blue token into the gate's machine. TC just nods and his excitement is overflowing. He really wants to have dinner there.

Being on the 85th floor of the world's tallest building (well, at least until 2010), Panorama 85's affordability could be as ridiculously high as the floor it is on.

"Why not", TC smiles, without batting an eyelash, "it's my birthday".

Though you and TC have no idea where the building is, you convince yourself it shouldn't be that difficult to find. After all, it's more than a hundred floors right? So, half a second after getting out of the Taipei City Hall MRT station, you see it, towering at 101 floors, as if its antenna tower provides quick access to the moon.

Now, that should be Taipei 101.

But being in an unfamiliar part of town, a tall building could be deceiving. With no map at all, you and TC  navigate a criss cross of main streets and alleys, hoping it'd just be five minutes away.

And you are of course, wrong. Though the building becomes bigger and bigger as you make a right turn here and a left turn there, you start wondering if you did take the right exit.

"I told you, that's the wrong exit," you tease TC.

But his mood is unshakable. It is, after all, his birthday, so this, you have to give to him.

What's really nice about visiting a new place, especially for the first time, is that you're able to appreciate little things you find quirky; so little that locals hardly notice them. A row of bikes for rent, ubiquitous vending machines, artwork at street benches -  all these add to the unique appeal of Taipei. It is a warm early evening in Taiwan's biggest metropolis, and even if there are hundreds of cars and buses all hurrying to get to their destinations, it doesn't feel like the air is as polluted. You can actually take a deep breath without dying.

TC spots the base of Taipei 101. Excited, he almost crosses the street on a red light, you had to pull him back by grabbing the end of his shirt.

"What if it's too pricey?", you ask nervously.

"Don't worry about it," he assures you, as the green pedestrian light flashes.

The moment you step into the street corner where the humongous  building is at, you lift your head up, but still not high enough though to see all 101 floors. As TC starts clicking for Facebook-worthy photos, you  start looking for the entrance to the building.

"You ask the guards where it is," you tell TC.

"No, you ask them," he laughs, "It's my birthday."

You don't know if you should use English or your lightweight yi-tiyen-tiyen Mandarin, which has proven to be useful though your vocabulary is getting rusty.

"Panorama 85 Restaurant?", you ask the decently-dressed guy siting behind the counter at the entrance.

Without any warning, and before you can say "We just wanna know where it is", he signals you to follow him. You and TC walk and walk and walk inside the building, past shops and shops and shops. You take an escalator, then an elevator, then before you could ask Mr. Nice Guy where you are headed, he has brought you to what seems like a reception area, somewhere on the 2nd or 3rd floor of the building. He leaves the two of you.

The reception has two young Taiwanese ladies behind the counter. They look like Taiwanese pop stars you used to watch as Meteor Garden extras. And around, a couple of other guys in dress shirts and coats observe you and TC.

"Do you have a reservation?", one of the pop stars, er, receptionists asks you, with a slight Chinese accent.

Okay, so you never really bothered to call for  a reservation (What do think this is, Mc Donalds?) And you don't know either what to say. You clear your throat. "Uhm, uh, we have no reservation but we'd like to have dinner here."

The receptionist flashes a pretentious smile while she tinkers with the computer. "We have no table with a view at the moment, but we can move you once we have an available one, if that's okay," she says, while pausing every three words.

You think that that should be fine. You give TC a are-you-okay -to-eat-here-even-if-we-do-not-have-a-view-yet look. He understands and nods his head in agreement, until Miss Receptionist proceeds with further instructions.

"You have to spend a minimum of 1,620 dollars per person."

Your eyes widen. Your jaws drop to the floor. You feel like melting. And you had to come back to earth   again to realize it's New Taiwan Dollars (not US$).

But still - that's over US$50! Per person.

Before you can make excuses and say "We'll just use the restroom" or "We'll come back another time", TC replies with a smile to the woman, "OK."

You are led to the elevators by one of the guys holding a two-way radio. A sign on the elevator's walls keeps you and TC quiet, until you get to the 85th floor.

Your eardrums almost pop.

A pretty, friendly-looking Taiwanese lady leads you to your table beside what looks like an ancient Taiwanese aborigine boat. Before you can say wow (which is becoming your favorite word by now), she hands over the menu to you and surprises you with her American accent: "We actually have different set meals."

She proceeds to explain Set A, then B, then C, but your eyes trace the cheapest one on the menu - yeah, the one that's a little over $50. Fifty US Dollars.

TC tilts his head sideways and instructs the pretty lady, "We'll have Set A." The cheapest one, still at Fifty US Dollars.

You read through the menu what your Fifty US Dollars would get you - antipasto, appetizer, soup or salad, main course and dessert.

You and TC make your choices, settling for goose and veal for your main course.

You thought that's about it when the lady asks, "Do you want to have mineral water or sparkling water?". (Oh, my $50 does not include wine yet?)

"What's the difference?", you ask, making sure that at least water comes along free, with your meal.

"Mineral water is NT$100 and sparkling water is NT$200," she responds.

This is crazy. You intentionally step on TC's foot under the table and raise your brows, as if asking Should we just ask for a glass and get tap water from the bathroom instead? Eew.

"We'll have mineral water then," you half-heartedly order as you hand over the menu back to her.

As your server disappears to have your food prepped, you check out the occupied tables with a view, a few meters away from where you are seated. Envious, you hope these customers would just hurry up, finish their meal, and leave.

"She said she'd transfer us", TC assures me.

You excuse yourself to go to the restroom, which is down the hall, past a small room where servers are flocking.

The restroom door has no knob. It takes you five seconds to figure it out. You have to push a little button. Open Sesame. Oh, that's why it's $50.

The door opens, and your eyes widen and your jaws drop again -  the bathroom walls are all made of see-through glass, and you can see the entire city of Taipei.

You step closer to the urinals, and look down.

You are 85 floors above the ground and having the most expensive dinner you have ever had. You smile. What the heck, what's $50 anyway - you are having the time of your life. ●