Laos, White Fish, and the Journey I Didn’t Know I Was Manifesting

On my way to Vientiane, Laos, after snoozing a few times while the plane was still on the ground in Singapore, which felt like forever. I woke up for a second when the plane finally took off to say a quick prayer, just as Jordie’s voice faded without data.

And then I wondered why I had never been to Laos.

Why didn’t I go when I was still living in Singapore, when it was just a short trip away? Foolish ignorance, I guess. I genuinely cannot think of any other reason. It feels strange now, knowing how accessible it once was, yet I never made the effort.

I also wondered whether I am about to tick off Laos simply because I have been manifesting it into my life. I own a framed pink cloth artwork of Laos, the one I bought while living in Singapore, from a small Laotian store in Haji Lane. That piece has travelled with me everywhere: from Singapore to Jakarta, then to Melbourne, to both apartments in South Yarra, and now it sits quietly in the pantry here in the West. Maybe places arrive in our lives long before we physically step into them.

My mind is drifting to something else right now — something I meant to write in my bullet diary yesterday but completely forgot. It was about Singapore. Never mind. It will come back when it’s ready.

We were served dory fish with tomato rice, topped with an egg-white-like sauce. It reminded me of a time I had Palembang oily rice on an AirAsia flight. I don’t think it was with fish — maybe it was meat with tomato — but for some reason, the taste brought that memory back. With it came Biscoff cookies and a pandan cake. Delicious.

I also ordered wine — white for me and red for Perima —, and now I am writing this slightly buzzed, somewhere between departure and arrival in Laos.

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