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I am back! After 38 years I have come back to the place I called home. How amazing is that! Life has spun around and brought me back, on the exact anniversary of leaving, all those years ago! I feel like I'm in love in love with the place, the heat, the tall tropical palms, the smell of the burning tarmac, the bustle of the city and the noises in the night. And the memories! I focus on the happy ones. I smile. I plan my days.

But on that first night my body lets me down churning out material from deep within, sending me running for the bathroom, to vomit over and over again, til I feel there's nothing left but cool tiles and blinding pain. My head is exploding, my subconscious bursting out of me, demanding attention. I swallow Asprin and try to drug it into silence.
Next morning I am back in control. I start my search for those childhood haunts, and Tiger Balm Gardens is first. The taxi drivers know where it is, even if the guidebooks don't.
Ah, Haw Par Villa yes missee. I take you. Good time, lah! Plenty people come to see Happy Buddha again, lah! Like you. But wah! Place is oo-loo now. Empty. Only missee, master from long time back come. See Temples of Hell. Is solid, lah!'
Hearing Singlish again, after so long there's no need to translate, just to talk, and it all comes flooding back.
But where is this place that he has brought me too? Surely I should remember it? The heat is unbearable, building slowly in front of a storm, and the slope up to the ornate gates is taking its toll. No shade, no breath, no memory. And yet? Was this the path, swarming with people, colonials like us, that threatened to sweep me away if I didn't hold tight to my mother's hand, or my brother's but not his! I light a cigarette stupid, when the air is so heavy, pushing down, crushing my lungs. I taste the smoke, burning my mouth and throat and know I am still breathing.
Then suddenly I am back! I remember, and euphoria spreads through my whole body, transforming me into the child I was, wanting to run around and explore. But I am caught inside an adult body with 38 extra years, heavy bags, and wearing the wrong shoes. I take my time.
The Temples of Hell look cool, inviting. I pay my S$1.00 and tuck the ticket away in my purse another memory to cherish. Ah, there they are, those plaster cast images of Buddhist hell - retribution for sins committed, followed by the tea of forgetfulness and final forgiveness. I remember it well the pain and torture the drowning in the sea of blood, the amputations

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