Kinabalu conundrum
Mom & Dad are planning to climb Mount Kinabalu in a few months' time. Kinabalu, for the unaware, is the highest peak not only in Malaysia but also South-East Asia at 4,101m above sea level.
Dad called me last night and asked whether I'd like to go along. I was conflicted. You see, I'm not an outdoors kinda gal. My idea of a dream vacation is a carpeted air-conditioned hotel room with a comfy bed, lots of books to read, visits to art galleries & museums, with maybe a little shopping thrown in and a musical, ballet performance or symphony orchestra in the itinerary somewhere. As you can see, I love my creature comforts ;)
I had a very bad experience hiking in Cameron Highlands many years ago -- it was a family "vacation" during Christmas of 1993 -- and I swore that I would never again go hiking in my entire life. It's one of the few promises to myself that I've actually kept!
So when Dad asked me about Kinabalu, all this was floating around in my head. But I was conflicted, mainly coz Dad was inviting me, which means he wants me to go, and, well, in our family, if Dad wants something, we mostly jump to it. Besides, Mom used to drum into us, "Make Daddy happy," and it's sorta programmed in me to try my best not to disappoint him.
But I was telling myself, I'm almost 27, and I can't live my whole life trying to please him. I KNOW I would absolutely hate the trip -- I really cannot understand people who say that hiking helps them "appreciate nature"... how can you see any "nature" when you have to keep your eyes on the ground to make sure you don't trip over a tree root, have leeches crawling up your pants leg or slip on a bunch of wet leaves?
Plus, Jellio and Cyanide's experience didn't exactly inspire confidence in me:
The climb was a very tiring and physically challenging ordeal altogether. Although the brochures claimed that no special skills or climbing experience is required, the stamina and determination needed is undescribable. The never-ending rocks and steep steps will forever haunt me. So many times along the way, I wanted to just give up, curl into a ball and hopefully wake up from the nightmare of the seemingly endless climb up and down. Was it worth it right at the peak? I have no idea. But one thing is for sure, I will never ever do it again.
I told Dad I wouldn't go coz I didn't think I'd make it past the first quarter without collapsing in a faint! He didn't sound all that disappointed that I said no. Despite much pleading from my cousins to reconsider (one of my cousins is going too), I hardened my heart and refused to change my mind. But man, the emotional pressure... I still feel vaguely guilty because I'm not willing to sacrifice my comfort in order to supposedly "bond" with Dad on the mountain.