spacemonkey is looking for the ugly.

Friday, January 8, 2010

Bobo

Recently, I have been clearing out my cupboards and I found some old photographs and decided that it is time; time for me to confess and to tell you all, the story of Bobo. Some of you who have travelled with me might not even know this but everywhere I go, Bobo is with me.

January 1987, when I was about 9 months old (young), my family went on holiday with my cousin and her family. Melissa was about 2 at that time and she brought with her a soft toy which I was attracted to. Melissa, who is now newly married and living in Boston and working as a researcher in MIT, snatched her toy away from me and refused to let me hold it. I screamed and to pacify me, my Mum got me Bobo. Bobo was this beige stuffed dog which has a dark patch behind his left eye, long droopy ears (which I enjoyed chewing on as a baby when I was teething) and stumpy limbs (as seen in the photo below, andyes I also realise I looked like a boy, not much different from now actually).

I became very attached to Bobo and I was never able to leave Singapore without bringing my familar friend with me (until now). Even when I go overseas on field trips with friends, I would hide Bobo at the bottom of my luggage in a ziplock bag, fearing embarrassing questions from my peers. Even while I was on exchange to UK, Bobo has followed me all my life since.

In Septermber 2008, after arriving at London at the start of my 4 month long exchange programme, I checked into the Intercontinental and prepared to stay there for 2 nights before heading to Nottingham. I was extremely homesick and this was to be my longest time away from home. On my second day in London, I left Bobo in my room which I shared with my classmate and when I returned at night, Bobo was no where to be found. After a 30 minute search around the hotel room (checking under the beds, under covers and cushions), I picked up the in-room phone and called for housekeeping to ask if anyway had seen Bobo (yes, I actually said "Bobo" over the phone, totally unaware of how embarrassing I must have sounded). Housekeeping reassured me that they will try to find Bobo the next day as it was already 2am at that time. Feeling even more homesick and upset, I went under the sheets, covered my face and tried to go to bed. After breakfast at the hotel's coffee house the next day, I walked across the hotel lobby and the hotel manager on duty approached me, "Good morning Miss Goh, I believe I have got something for you." She ran to the back of the front desk and pulled out Bobo. Those were the sweetest words ever. She smiled and returned Bobo to me, and as overjoyed as I was, I sheepishly received Bobo with one hand and replied "oh... that... err thanks". Bobo and I were separated when he was accidentally wrapped up in the bed linen when housekeeping changed the sheets and Bobo was found in the large linen bins in the laundry room.

I know how many of you might think I am crazy. But I don't care anymore. Now that the cat (dog) is out of the bag, I hope you all try to understand why I have to bring him with me when I leave the country. I have anxieties and Bobo helps me feel secure like how children have security blankets (or booboo blankets, no please don't deny it, you probably had one some time in your life). To be honest, sometimes I think something bad is going to happen if I don't have him with me.
Am I just superstitious?


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