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To travels and trunks

A lover and a fighter, out to see the world.

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Travel
- Australia
- Africa
- Asia
Singapore

Hi, I’m Clara

I’m an author, writer and traveller, but most of all I’m a storyteller. Come with me, and let’s go see the world.

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Dusk at Islamabad’s Faisal mosque where I was constantly worried that my loose, translucent scarf was revealing too much of my hair. But as I was leaving, a local thanked me for covering my head. “There were some other ladies from your country who could not do so,” he said, sounding slightly apologetic for calling them out. I had seen the women too. “I am from Singapore,” I said. “I believe they are from China.” 🙃

During Ramadan, most food stalls in Pakistan are closed during the day, even international chains such as Subway and Coffee Bean. We resorted to buying naan and sandwiches from supermarkets and bakeries, sneaking bites when no one was looking and feeling like students trying not to get caught eating in class. Mosques sound the call for iftar, or the breaking of fast, between 7 to 7.30pm daily. Dean and I were at Lahore’s Wazir Khan Chowk, a marketplace outside one of the city’s oldest mosques, the first time we heard it. Shopkeepers pulled out tupperwares of food, and shared neon pink syrupy drinks from plastic bottles. A man tapped Dean on the shoulder, handing him two cups of cordial. We had been warned against drinking anything that did not come straight out of a mineral water bottle, but the man was gently insistent. Although we were foreigners, he wanted us to share in iftar too. Still, we knew we could not stomach the local water so I tipped the drink to my lips, careful not to swallow any. We returned a lipstick-stained cup, our gratitude for his courtesy. Walking away, I realized that I was indeed thirsty, and pulled out my water bottle. What a simple joy to be able to drink openly. Tomorrow the ritual would begin again.

Last year of my twenties and I’m gonna make it count 💪🏼

Locals cross the Passu suspension bridge in Pakistan’s upper Hunza region every day, but I’m just grateful I didn’t fall through on the one time I did. Check out the broken plank in front of me, and swipe for a close up of the wooden logs, woven into metal cables (no nails!) and spaced up to 30cm apart. Are your hands clammy already? 😹💦

Went to Japan, ate Singapore food. This SG-style kopitiam in Sapporo checks all the boxes when it comes to decor, with Tiger Beer posters, FBI “好吃” stickers and even the orange and red cutlery we know so well. But unlike an actual hawker centre, this place is reservations-only and full of Japanese salarymen (and women) even on a weeknight. @cheriesyw, @pohtecktoes, @potaeteo and I were so amused that in the land of ramen, sushi and fresh seafood, our local favourites were such a novelty. So how’s the food? Ok only la. The chicken rice lacked a pandan aroma, bak kut teh was a confusing mix of herbal and peppery, satay lacked the requisite char and each dish cost between SGD10-15. Guess we have been truly spoilt by cheap and good hawker fare at home 🤷🏻‍♀️🤤

When you find that one photo where your face isn’t contorted from the workout or grimacing from foam rolling😹 Had a lovely weekend of pilates, art jamming, nibbles and drankz with these fit-fluencers, hosted by the good folks at @om_and_away, @themovingbodygroup and @jwmarriottsg. Thanks for a great time!💪🏼

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