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In my home town as a child, I grew up on turtle eggs because I loved eating it. There were lots of turtles then, including eggs. The beaches were clean, the waters crystal clear and the air was fresh. My driver was a trishaw man.

The last time I had turtle eggs was when I was in my twenties visiting my aunt who moved to Singapore. Being the aunt who brought me up, she knew I loved turtle eggs. She brought me to the wet market and bought turtle eggs for me. I could not turn her down out of respect but I asked one question as to where the eggs came from. The seller, an Indonesian, replied that it was from Indonesia. Secretly, I was relieved.

Well, my aunt proceeded to cook, presented the eggs and sat down to watch me eat. I had a tough time.
Number one: the eggs somehow looked rather small and unappetising as the ones from my hometown.
Number two: it was extremely difficult to swallow as I felt baby turtle trying its best to crawl up my throat (call it imagination or guilt).
Number three: I had to act like I was enjoying it when in actual fact I was suffering. And I kept consoling myself silently that the eggs weren't from my home town and that these would be my absolute last in my life.

And it was.

Then in my thirties, I went back home town again. This time to the islands and there I was absolutely happy. I had the opportunity to play with hundreds, not one or two or three but hundreds and hundreds of newborn turtles. This was pure bliss. By then I was already a vegetarian - absolutely guilt free.

For those who had signed up, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for helping my state-mates; for those who have not, please do.