So its just 36 hours to my
supposed trip, and gosh, the drama continues.
Let me put this in perspective. The lead up to this trip is nothing short of a epic - its been a series of up-to-the-last-minute developments, from my resignation, to the resignation of L, to the buying of the Eurail tickets, etc etc etc. Too many to document here.
It almost seems as if the Heavens are testing our resolve to realise our dream trip.
And what happens after we both left our jobs, and sunk in thousands of dollars each in air tickets, train tickets, buying our backpacks, a daypack, toiletries, travel insurance, digital camera, and even an iPod to store those pictures to be taken with that brand new camera?
My long-standing, 1-year-9-month backache (for which I have seen various physiotherapists, a chiropractor, various acupunturists, had a MRI scan taken, X-ray taken and popped pills for) worsened dramatically over the weekend.
It HURT, and HURT IN CAPITAL LETTERS TOO. And all because on Sat and Sun, I carried the above-mentioned daypack while walking around Orchard Road.
IF the trouble came because of the above cause (a bag! a daypack!), then won't I be doomed when I carry the actual backpack, loaded up with baggage to last me for more than 3-months?
Now, we are exploring the option of delaying the trip by a week, just so I can rest the bloody back and get some (more) medical advice.
If the airline says NO, then there is a chance I may have to be at Changi in 36 hours with all the luggage, to fly off for what may be a very, very painful trip.
Its not going to be easy to enjoy myself if the back hurts all the time. Ooh, its the Swiss Alps! More painkillers please!
Damn it, maybe we should have just toiled away at our jobs and be content with a steady monthly salary and work towards the 5Cs (is it still the 5Cs?). And the occasional holiday overseas. That package tour to Japan sounds mighty attractive now.
Life can be so cruel its funny sometimes. Except I find hard to appreciate the humour when its happening to myself.
