A rural life?

This morning while having our brekkie of wanton mee, KH and I indulged in our usual fantasy of life-after-retirement. We were talking about the haze-stricken areas of Kalimantan and the tiny hidden villages in the forests which are now smothered under all that bad air. KH was reminiscing over one business trip which saw him taking a small commuter plane that landed in a tiny airstrip in the middle of nowhere, to meet a business associate in a small town by a river. It was, according to him, a sleepy town, not unpicturesque with the brown lazy river meandering past, slicing through dark green jungle on either bank. On Friday night, the town came to life with tribal people making their way to the town. The people pitched in to erect a huge tent, like a circus tent. It was their weekend market where trading between the town and the tribes took place.

We discussed staying in place like this, whereupon KH commented that I would go mad from boredom after the first week. I objected. What did he mean? I huffed. I kinda liked the idea - going far away from another life, to set up a new life in a different place. We'd plant organic veg, have our own livestock, fish in the nearby river. I could see myself living in a single-storey bungalow atop a hill some distance from town and if ever I needed to head to town, I'd do so in my ancient Vespa. But this, I know, is just romantic rubbish. KH is right - not that I would die of boredom, but I would find the going hard as a city girl.

The harsh reality is probably more like me chasing a chicken round the back yard, desperately trying to summon up enough courage to dispatch it neatly for dinner. Now how on earth does one pluck feathers from a dead chicken??? (See what comes from sanitising everything in Singapore? Once upon a time we could see chickens being slaughtered in dirty wet markets. Today, they come to us already dead, frozen and nakedly featherless in supermarket freezers!)

And did I mention that animals have no respect for me? They smell my fear a mile off. So they would probably end up ruling the roost! And for all the organic veg talk, we all know I don't have a single green digit among my fingers and I'd probably get blisters just trying to break the earth with a hoe! As a matter of fact, I DO break out in blisters when I wield the shears and do a bit of weeding in the garden. And as for the Vespa, well, KH does not even trust me on a bicycle!

Nice fantasy though - with a bit of a bizarre undertone of Marie Antoinette and her perfumed sheep in her hamlet at Versailles! Yes the ill-fated queen played at village living before her head rolled in the revolution.

This fantasy though, ranks second - after my all-time favourite of KH and me jaunting off on a land rover on the overland route from Singapore to Europe. Believe it or not, we even talked about what would happen if one of us kicked the bucket on the overland route! The answer: cremate and carry on!

What is life without dreaming right?

And notice the kids do not figure in all these plans... ah, one day!!