Precious Living

I was sleepily enjoying every mouthful of my hot scrambled eggs with ham and cheese when a piercing voice broke the silence.
“Are you guys the six Malaysian tourists?”, shrieked a petite Chinese lady who had just walked in.

Bleary-eyed and groggy, I continued chewing my eggs while the ever enthusiastic Simon and Min Yee entertained her question.

“Yes, we are the six Malaysian tourists,”

“Are you still eating? You were supposed to board the bus at seven. It’s seven-fifteen!”

My sleepy eyes widened by a millimeter. I have never heard anything more preposterous. Our designated tour leader, Simon, informed us we were going on a local tour to the thousand-year-old village of Wuzhen but the bus was only supposed to pick us up at seven-thirty.

Simon patiently explained to her the original arrangement, only to be reprimanded.

“Yes, but none of you have a local number I could call to inform that the time have changed to seven!”

I pierced the roast potato with a fork and popped it into my mouth.

My dad who had been silent suddenly spoke up.

“Can you wait for us outside the hostel? We will board the bus at 7:30am.”

I hid my smile as I continued chewing the potatoes. Around me, I heard four muffled giggles.

Hearing this, Mao Mao, the petite chinese lady with the piercing voice, relaxed. She smiled a genuinely warm smile and encouraged us to move faster.

“Just hurry. We’ve got a lot to see today. Waiter, can you help them pack their coffees into takeaway cups?”

At 7:30am, we boarded Mao Mao’s bus to Wuzhen.

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