A normal outing in the mid-drizzly night turned out to be what I call the most delightful adventure for a long time.

Driving along the old streets filled with bright lightings from the food and fruit stalls brings back nolgastic memories of my childhood days. Aljunied MRT station, which stands directly on where a village where I used to grow up, is not too far away from the old road I drove along.I brought Pink along and we started looking around for a place to savour the long-lost flavour of durian, and finally settled down at a stall and walked over, sheleterd with the light tapping raindrop sounds over our heads.

Pink prefers a not-so-bitter durian so we opted for the "cat hill" type as recommended by the hawker, which he gave a little discount after Pink asked him to make a better price...we ate the durian at a place with tables and chairs which looks small on the outside, but exceptionally spacious from the inside.Prying the durian open to expose the golden-yellow flesh brings delight and sends tingles to my tongue...it brings back good old memories of days where my dad / uncle comes home with a couple of red-perforated from durian spikes plastic bags, and sitting on the newspaper laid-flooring and eating durians as a family.

I told Pink that I started scolding my family when I was 3 and they offered for me to eat durians, and how my uncle teased me, calling me "ah niao" (literally meaning cat) in Hokkien when he sees me delighting on durians. The "cat hill" was really wonderful, lots of meat, dry and solid, yet hyper-appetising...we had 2, which Pink could not finish as it was really filling, and I finished the remaining little bit. I couldn't bear to finish it as it has really been a number of years since I ate durians, in consideration of the warm and sweltering weather, that these spiky fruit kings flourish under.

An enjoyable time, as what we call the "durian hunt".

What comes next? Some planning required.