An Ode to Project HCM

This is a short piece written by Ernest Chee on a trip we took this weekend.  He writes more eloquently than I.  Enjoy!

"I’ve decided to pen my thoughts and views about the recent trip to HCMC lest I forget. (And as most of you would know, that’s just a matter of time).

Many a time I would want to write about a trip or event, and procrastination would get in the way. As the momentum is lost, the memories would fade eventually or the moment to share the experience would no longer be appropriate. Timing, as always, is crucial.

Time, in fact, is a recurrent theme in this narrative. It has been some time since we got together for a project like this (not counting Penang). More than 30 years? Even that seems uncertain as some of us would have known each other for longer. Chronologically, our advancing age means that our time on earth is getting lesser and statistically half-time is over and surely we are very much into the second half of the game.

Being fifty has a certain ring to it. It’s a landmark age that carries a certain importance, a certain connotation and image. It shouts “I’m no longer a spring chicken but neither am I geriatric yet”. It’s an age I tell my female patients that many of them can expect to be menopausal. A quick search will reveal sites that elaborate ‘the fifty good things about turning fifty’, or ‘turning fifty – the golden age of happiness’. You’d also find sites reminding you about declining health at fifty and the need to go for health screening with your family GP to detect the presence of serious disease (I’m working on Tuesday).

But this is not a discourse about time or turning fifty. I’m just in a reflective mood. I’m reminded that it was turning fifty that brought us together for the first trip to Penang, organized by a wife who likes to organize surprises. We will forever be grateful to her for starting something, perhaps igniting a fire that has potential to burn brightly.

What was Project HCM? Was it a birthday celebration, an excuse for a 3-day party? Was it an escape from domestic responsibility for the weekend, and doing the morning runs for some? (we pause here to salute you, Gerard, for doing the right thing and staying behind where you were needed and yet enthusiastically being with us in spirit and Whatsapp!) Was it an extension of a boy’s night out with alcoholic influences and not having to worry about driving home? Or was it just an opportunity to acquire Hermes accessories? It could be none, some or all of the above depending on who you are. But whatever the reason, we connected and got along like overgrown schoolboys and it seemed like yesterday that we were together in CJC.

It didn’t take too long for familiar memories to come back. Now who was it that caused minor irritations like pushing someone off the steps? But who cares anyway, it’s all water under the bridge now and we have matured. Was squeezing the nipple for a whistle or for spotting a turban? I think it’s the former. Was it Raphael or Chris that mistook the bodily secretions of a dear friend? Yes, a close friend that has been away for too long and who, for all the disturbing that he gets from us, still gamely joined in our adventures in HCM via Whatsapp.

Those adventures included big-time stimulation of the senses like enjoying culinary delights from THE List, physical man-handling from substandard masseuses (according to the massage connoisseur who considered the body search at the airport superior), getting scammed by facial massages that extended into misplacing of hands for one individual and that resulted in exorbitant paying of tips for the rest, and of course the XO tours (I’ve got to dedicate a whole paragraph, or two, to this one).

I did a quick search on XO. I found that it could denote a premium brandy, extra old, which has been aged 20-35 years. And I always thought that was the reason they named the tour – a premium experience for tourists. Yes, of course I did! But I also found that XO could mean ‘hugs and kisses’ representing love and affection on letters and cards. So now I’m a bit confused.

Anyway, there were no hugs and kisses from the bevy of young ladies– at least I didn’t get any. But they were eye candy worthy; at least most of them were except perhaps, the big boned lass that prompted a suggestion from one of us that we could have different guides for the night foodie tour. 

Yes, it did not go unnoticed.

There was no hanky panky. It was a legit, enjoyable experience. It was very professionally done.  And I don’t believe our wives have anything to worry about. It was my observation that despite the presence of beautiful flowers in our midst, none of the touring men would indulge in any of the women who were young enough to be our kids and it was evident to me that we cared for our respective flowers at home.

It was the highlight of the HCM experience for me as it was different and refreshing (and I’m not saying that because I suggested it). It gave us a glimpse of a city that recognized the horrors of its recent past and combined it with the youthful exuberance and vitality of the young ladies. However, I would put my foot down now and state categorically that I do not have naked ambitions for future undertakings.

Another experience that some of us got was to listen to the homily of a Californian priest visiting HCMC. I must confess that I have a short attention span and I can’t tell you too much of what he said, but I do remember that somewhere in the sermon he described how (according to mystics), before all of us were born, God would breathe life into us and send us off with a kiss – the kiss of God. And for the rest of that life we would continue our journey in search of that love and peace that we are destined to find. We probably don’t need a near-death experience to achieve this and somehow I wonder if the whole HCM experience boiled down to the receiving of this simple message.

Serendipity.

I am grateful and appreciative that our wives consented to our indulgence in going to HCMC. I guess somehow our lives have been intertwined and that our respective journeys are connected.

I guess I will sign off now as I have a feeling that I’m not the only one with a short attention span.

And so let us cast that proverbial stone together to the not too distant future and till we meet again,

YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…hendran!

P.S. Don’t expect any more such essays from me in the future as I probably will go back to my old"procrastinating self.