Gunther

Very disappointing. 'Warm sea urchin with eggs and black truffle'.

Most of us ain't wine-drinkers, and chose to skip the wine at Gunther. After all, we would adjourn for whisky elsewhere after this. There was no point in confusing our palates. Didn't even bother with champagne. If food was to be the focus, it would be so. Freshly squeezed juices were ordered.

Gunther is a hit and miss with us. I've a love-hate relationship with this restaurant. If we order off the menu and forget to ask the prices, it can feel like we're being ripped off. We felt like that about one item tonight. The server recommended the 'warm sea urchin with eggs and black truffle'. My interest was piqued, but I was a tad suspicious of the 'warm' part. Decided to try it. The sea urchin, while fresh, wasn't of a sashimi grade. The eggs were okay, but didn't mesh well with this particular grade and flavor of sea urchin. The black truffles did it no favor and couldn't save the dish. It was clear that whoever in the kitchen didn't understand the flavors or texture of the dish, and worse, they didn't have the right tool to correctly de-shell the sea urchin or appoint the right spoon for the patrons, so that bits of pointy things were being broken off with each scoop. There was a palpable look of consternation at the table. It was a ridiculous S$85 for something so disappointing. Ah well.

Whatever is on the menu, turned out fine when it arrived at the table. As promised. In this sense, the restaurant does deliver in terms of expectations. We came here for the 'cold capellini with Oscietra caviar'. (I assume it's 'osetra'.) Everyone had that as starters. So the kitchen kindly halved the portions for us. That was gratifying, as always. Thank goodness. We were all tempted to order another plate, except that we wouldn't have any more space for our mains and plenty more carbs.

Although I had earlier reeled a little at the Alaskan crab moving its eyes at me on the introductory platter as part of the market catch of the day, I gulped and ordered one of its legs. It was a gamble because I really didn't know how it would fare after the horrible warm sea urchin. To my great relief, the crab leg was well steamed and the side of pasta was nicely done. This main of 'Alaskan crab leg with capellini tossed with Monte Poro chilli' was delicious. There was a decent portion of meat in the leg. The friends weren't unhappy with their mains either. They were pleased that the various items of fish, pasta and prawns reflected Gunther's usual standards.

Biopics

I like biopics. Especially if they're well filmed ones that take a measure of liberty to douse portions with fiction, but adhering mainly to the facts. Made time to watch two in a row, and was rewarded richly when they turned out to be thought-provokingly good.

* I'm going to talk about 'The Bang Bang Club' and 'J.Edgar'. Spoilers ahead. 

*********

'The Bang Bang Club'

I've always liked the Pulitzer winning photos for the pain and sorrow they sometimes evoke, and importantly, raise questions about the photographers behind the photo, their roles in combat zone, and how they deal with the terrible emotions. Remember the vulture and the child? I also learnt about the documentation of a killing and how the photojournalists struggle to stay neutral even in the face of human atrocities. 

Finally got around to watching the film of the life of these Pulitzer winners, war photographers- Kevin Carter and Greg Marinovich. 'The Bang Bang Club' also features are Ken Oosterbroek and João Silva. One died in the line of duty, one committed suicide, one continues to be shot in war coverage, and one has lost both legs in a land mine explosion. The prize of dedication to their chosen profession. The film traces their lives and times through conflict torn apartheid South Africa.

I love how factual this story is, and its brutality and stark representation of life. Bloody, gory and stirring, I can't help but be glued to it for every second. Photojournalists don't have it easy. It's damned if they do, and damned if they don't. Do they help? Do they turn a blind eye? Do they just record the wheels of history and stay neutral? I'll probably never have to make the choices they've to make. Painful, mortal, and powerful. This film stayed with me long after the credits rolled.

'J.Edgar'

I teasingly asked if the 'Hoover' meant that this J Edgar Hoover is the dude whom the Hoover vacuum has been named after. The subsequent look of horror on the friends' faces was unanimous, and priceless. Rotten Tomatoes gave it a 44%. They must have really disliked Clint Eastwood's style. It's a tad cheesy with a bit of a painful narration, it isn't too bad. Left unmentioned in this film, are the Army-McCarthy hearings and the subsequent censure. A murky point in American history in its reaction of communists, communism and the domestic threat. Everyone noticed that, and couldn't help linking it with Arthur Miller's 'The Crucible', which is one of the best allegories of McCarthyism.

The man mentioned how two giggly women 30-something women next to him went "Eiiiiiiii..." twice during the movie, loudly, at points where the scenes indicated homosexuality. WTF. Where did these women come from?! The man said he didn't shush the women because he was too busy enjoying the film. ARRRRGH. 

Throughout the film, there isn't any sex scene between the two male leads, except for one pertinent kissing scene, which explained (in the film) why J Edgar never married, and had his best friend till death parted them, physically, at least. I'd have loved to smack the women, or snidely mention, "Eiiii what Eiiiiiii! Let's see how you feel if your sons take the same path." (or daughters.) I can't believe how narrow-minded Singaporeans continue to be on this issue. I'm not asking for equal marriage rights because it's completely inconceivable to this country at the moment, but can't we at least have acceptance? Against this unspoken societal disapproval, would anyone knowingly choose this 'hard' route in life? Seriously.

*********

Can't wait to scroll through AppleTV to see the new offerings, and glance at cinema listings as well. I've watched 'Underworld Awakening' at the first opportunity in Shanghai. The movie, is awesome. AWESOME. I'm a huge huge fan, so I forgive all its lousy plot and cheesy music. Totally blind to all faults of the series. So Rotten Tomatoes' description of it is "vapid action". Very true, and I say, bring it on!  

70 Years Ago This Day

Stalks of red paper poppies greet you at the entrance of the gallery.

We had wanted to check out the Japanese cemetery at Chuan Hoe Avenue. But after Laneway and still sunburnt, I wasn't up to lasting another 2 to 3 hours in the sun and humidity peering at tombstones. Mind ou, I really like cemeteries and tombstones. The National Library provided a great alternative with its exhibitions at its gallery on Level 10 to commemorate the 70th Anniversary of the Battle for Singapore with "Four Days In February: Adam Park, The Last Battle", and "Images of Internment: The Eye & Art of William Haxworth".

I was made dizzy by the smell of new paint that still lingered in the stale air of the gallery. UGH. Hope that dissipates soon. I'm not that old, and not that young. But I can't imagine the peace of Adam Park being shattered by war now. Certainly it was rather painful to imagine Adam Park being the venue for one of the fiercest battles fought (next to the one at Opium Hill) by the dedicated Cambridgeshire Regiment. Idly, the girlfriend and I noted the numerous typos in the information cards.

Haxworth's 'theatre posters' of plays and songs put up by POWs within Changi.

Glad to end the afternoon viewing the collection of William Haxworth's artwork. While grim in context and background, the colors and nature of the reasonable eye of the artist provided for viewers to walk out of the gallery without feeling too depressed. The girlfriend said that on a recent visit to Reflections At Bukit Chandu, she saw a couple of Haxworth replicas and originals there too. For an amateur artist, he's really good. His sketches and paintings captured life in Changi for the prisoners-of-war. Clean lines and humorous captions. The internment did nothing to dampen the spirits of many, despite being threatened by death, illnesses and malnutrition.

I'm vaguely relieved that the exhibitions don't go into the details of torture of Chinese prisoners and the bayoneting of babies. It's quite unsettling to read those stories of cruelty and know that it's all fact. As always, this sort of exhibition is mildly upsetting to visitors on many levels. For me, there's always knowledge gleaned, although there're certain details I wish I hadn't read. I hope never to see war in the country I live in during this lifetime, and remember how war is real and near, and what is happening in Syria today, can happen to any country who's torn apart by internal conflict, unstable political system and rather inefficient diplomatic policies.

Street Names Long Ago And Now

Held at the National Library over Level 7 and Level 8, 'Stories Behind Singapore Streets' gives you an inkling into how our streets are named so. I had piecemeal information over the years and was most interested to see how a curated exhibition puts them altogether into a coherent format.

Couldn't stop laughing at what Raffles said in his brief to the Town Planning Committee back in all those days. "It is well known that the people of one province are more quarrelsome than another, and that continued disputes and disturbances take place between people from different provinces; it will also be necessary to distinguish the fixed residents and itinerants - between the resident merchants and the traders who only resort to the port for only a time." Heh. Nothing has really changed eh? I'm not going to say what, how and where. Find out at the exhibition!

I find the exhibition so quaint, and fairly interesting. I confess I don't know much about my country's history nor the naming of the streets. The activity book and information booklet (exhibition guide) have been well thought-out, comprehensive and almost fun, and it's printed out so very nicely. Very cool. The RazorTV segment on 'Unusual Street Names' is a fun touch. On a weekday, we had the space to ourselves; there wasn't anyone else crowding around trying to watch it.

Awesome info and activity booklets.

Another display of 'Colonial and Colloquial Street And Place Names' caught my eye, "Not only did they Chinese have their own names for streets, their use of a similar name for dozens of streets was extremely frustrating to the Europeans. Often, addresses could not be ascertained accurately for instituting arrests, serving court summons or tracing the spread of infectious diseases." Oof. Colonial masters talking.

What we now know as Chinatown Complex used to be Sago Lane. Sago Lane was known as in the local dialects as 'Coffin Street' or 'The Street of Dead People' because coffin shops and death houses lined the lane. (Don't mistake this for Sago Street where the brothels were. Fun contrast, ain't it?) These death houses housed humans who were about to die, and their eventual funerals held on the ground floor. Death houses were banned by the government 1961. (View youtube clip of the past here.) I suppose many residents in Bukit Timah and Woodlands (and probably many more areas) reject the idea of Eldercare Centres because they're viewed as modern-day death houses, something similar to the concept of 'pariah'. SIGH.

While browsing through, the word "expunged" jumped at me. Urban development has obliterated many old roads and names. But it's especially poignant when the word is used so many times. Such a great effect on the audience. Merriam-Webster stated the word to mean "to efface completely"......"to eliminate (from memory) from one's consciousness." Definitely. So efficient till many of us don't know the history of the names, the reasons behind the names, or even that old roads exist in another form today.

Lo Hei After Lunar New Year

We didn't do the lo hei thingy with the family and friends. There were to be a couple of obligatory Chinese meals. Those were done with minimal fuss and weren't too painful, especially when the folks are rather tactful and aren't the usual representatives of tales of dinner horrors.

Some friends have relocated to Singapore and begun new jobs. I wasn't around to say hi when they flew in, and could only meet them after they've more or less settled into new apartments and jobs. They did mention it wasn't too difficult to get around the administrative procedures, and public transport is a breeze. Oookies. While they've managed to trek down to catch the kavadi bearers in the awe-inspiring and colorful Thaipusam, they're unfamiliar with local culture and food. Even Chinese food is exotic to them; effectively, they only know 'moo goo gai pan' (蘑菇鸡片) and 'chop suey' (杂碎). What the crap! They had arrived in Singapore at the tail end of Lunar New Year, and missed out on all the corporate lunches where they would have had a chance to lo hei. So I arranged for welcome meals at a favorite Chinese restaurant.

Nobody said 'yusheng' and 'pen cai' could only be served during the Lunar New Year. We checked with our favorite restaurants on whether they would be willing to do either yusheng or pen cai for us. They were happy to do both! How very nice. The kitchens were fine with preparing special orders. They reassured us that it wouldn't be too much trouble. We asked for a private room as well, so the other guests wouldn't be quizzical about it. Lo hei with the folks and friends it would be over separate meals.

Since we were able to give them an advance notice of 2 days, one restaurant also merrily readied pots of 'pen cai' (盆菜) in 2 versions, a regular and a vegetarian. That was very much appreciated. Pen cai, in a vegetarian version contained mock meat and gluten, fermented beancurd, loads of mushrooms, chestnuts and vegetables. I've no idea how they did it, but the thick gravy was really tasty. Pen cai, in a non-vegetarian version, had a thick rich broth that contained huge chunks of pig's trotters, duck meat and pig skin.

Half the table knew what pen cai is; the other half didn't, but knew a similar dish called 'lo kai yik' (or 'loh mei'). 'Pen cai' seems like the 'atas' (i.e. more expensive) version of 'lo kai yik'. The folks loved that rich brown gravy poured over steamed white rice. Kinda comforting and satisfying. The best part, we had 2 pots for each meal; with other food items, it meant we couldn't finish the whole pot. We insisted on tapau-ing the leftovers for the friends to stuff into the freezer. We're all experts in freezing food items. It was hilarious to know that the friends thought that the gravy and all tasted even better after a couple of days. They even know to throw in extra potatoes, pork ribs or slabs of chicken breast, broccoli and squares of tofu to enrich the ingredients already in the broth.

What's up with the gold flakes in yusheng?!

Laneway 2012

Crawled out of bed at noon with an aching body. Had to do a long session in the pool to rid the knots and limber up the muscles. 10 epic hours at Laneway, most of which spent standing. I did say I wasn't going. But the friends were, and dragged me along. I wasn't too difficult to convince. Feist would be there. She alone, would make my whole year for gigs.

When the line-up was confirmed, it was decent. Something to look forward to, but nothing that would make me fly home from Shanghai. So luckily there was already Opeth 3 nights ago. Marked the timeslots for Cults, Laura Marling, Anna Calvi and of course, Feist. The ladies. I noticed the women. They are the attraction for me at this Laneway. I would watch the rest if I didn't need the toilets or drinks. The sound system was much better than last year. Having 2 stages side by side made it easier for logistics and less of a wait between sets. Yuck, Girls, Chairlift, and M83 weren't too bad. The rest were horrifying, painful and quite forgettable. The ultimate crowd snub was in the night. Everyone was stunned by how bad the band was, and patch by patch, everyone sat down. I must have been imagining it, but no one clapped when the band was done. In fact, I heard a lot of "Shut up!" reverberating around. Hugely contrasted with the scene immediately after when en masse, everyone stood up, like a surge of energy, to dance to the final headliner M83.

Fort Canning was packed to the brim. Major crowds thronged its grounds all day. Last year, we danced in the rain. This year, people were more than prepared for a storm. It didn't happen. It was sizzling. The sort where you'd be burnt in 30 minutes out there without sunblock or a hat. Later on, it drizzled ever so teasingly for like...5 minutes. Ha. Some people felt 'cheated' for the no-rain! Silly weather. Those who were in wellies had to change out of them. Too hot for knee-high rubbers!!! The night breeze was heaven-sent, ameliorating the humidity, and the stars shone down brightly.

We couldn't bring food and drinks into the venue because there were beer tents and food stalls. The queues for drinks snaked round. We bought a couple of beers while catching the bands. Support Heineken lor. But in between sets, we went to rendezvous point Carpark B where the boot parties were. Boot parties FTW! Ditched beer for whisky and other exciting stuff. Peach schnapps, Agwa, tequila, other kinds of beer, wine, moscato, sparkling, plenty, and plenty. Oh, and to hydrate. Water was most appreciated. We brought 2 cartons of water, 1.5l each. By the end of the night, those were all consumed. We had a continuous supply of ice cubes, so that made everything so much sweeter. There were the most surprising victims to alcohol last night. One was knocked out by a lethal combination of everything before 5pm, sprawled comatose in the car, and revived in time for Feist.

When night fell, people were a little hungry. Wraps and sandwiches from inside the venue were not at all pathetic. In fact, they were pretty awesome. Quality meat and vegetarian falafels abound. Hurrah! Outside at rendezvous point, we had cheese biscuits, chocolate cookies, beef jerky and random chocolate bars. But more substantial sustenance was needed. There was also generous provision and sharing of someone's mom's homemade chicken curry. Oddly, nobody wanted to drive out or grab a cab out to get 'real' food. So, we're thinking...next year, it wouldn't be difficult to haul along a portable grill and make some cheese toasties, burgers and pub-grub-style stuff. :D

What a party! 8000 humans! It was a good night! I forgot all about buying merchandise. Hahahaha. But Laneway on a Sunday. I've no idea how the friends staggered in to the office today. I'm secretly glad that I needn't have to do that this morning. If I had to, I might actually chuck a sickie. Heh. After all the nonsense of hydrating with cold fruits, showering, exfoliating, then to soak the laundry before sleeping, the night passed in a deep and dreamless state.

Chwee Kueh & Coffee

As much as I don't mind the bracing cold of winter, I prefer walking out of the house in slippers and not having to pile on the layers and a coat. Heavy lah. Today, it was almost a pleasure to feel the sizzling morning sun on the skin. I wonder if Laneway will turn out sunny or become RainWay like last year. So many people are taking no chances, and going to be dressed for a storm. Let's hope this year won't be a repeat of 10 friggin' hours in a non-stop downpour. I'll not enjoy that.

Skipped the tai chi session with the old folks, but scrambled out of bed early to satisfy a craving for chwee kueh (literally, water cakes.) If there's a dish that I don't bat an eyelid at the ridiculous amount of oil used to soak the preserved radish and keep it moist, it's chwee kueh. To Bedok it was. I like this stall's mix and flavors of salty chai poh (preserved radish) and chilli that's actually a rich sort of spicy, rather than a thinner belachan sort. I bring spocks along each time I intend to eat chwee kueh. The stall gives out 2 thin sticks for customers to eat with. I don't know how to use them. Not bothered to order other food with chopsticks and spoons to utilize. Spocks are best.

10 chwee kuehs all to myself. It was brunch! That would be the only food item necessary. I was very pleased. The man didn't bother with it and went straight for the Malay food from the very decent and traditional stalls at this hawker centre next to the bus interchange and train station.

Then it was off for a quick stroll at Tiong Bahru to say hi to the various friends who were in the area for various purposes. We also stared at the makeshift pop-up (in front of Books Actually) old-school-new-hands barber 'shop'. They had put 2 barber chairs along the corridor, and opened for 'business'. An event, a promotion of some sort. Didn't ask. We didn't walk across to check out what was going on. Coffee called. Needed a good cup of caffeine. Grabbed a cup of dependable flat white from Forty Hands.

Entertainment At Iggy's

The man took me out to dinner at Iggy's, an old old favorite that we haven't re-visited since it moved from Regent Hotel to Hilton Hotel. I don't mind Iggy's. Food is innovative without too much of the molecular gastronomy bullshit, dependable and consistently beautiful. The quality of the food is no doubt, first rate. But its ambience meant that stylish jeans and sneakers, flats or whatever would suffice. It's not a restaurant I'd dress up to go to. I was flummoxed by the mass of humans teeming around lobby when lift doors opened at Level 3. Wedding dinner crowd. Iggy's is situated right next to the ballroom. OH. The acoustics of the place are terrible. Every voice is amplified and every sound from the ballroom meant that at many points during the evening, I considered getting out the earplugs.

Frankly, for dinner at S$275++ per head, the service is lacking. Very lacking. Nothing has changed since their days at Regent Hotel. It's the little things that differentiate between a fine-dining restaurant and fabulous service from a mediocre presentation. Iggy's doesn't fulfil our expectations of service. Its service is slip-shod, and can be without warmth, depending on who's serving your table. They really ought to up a notch in terms of training for service staff. For the same price, service will be par excellence at other restaurants, and some restaurants which charge less per head.

Iggy's is known for their ever-changing degustation menu and contemporary take on Japanese kaiseki. It almost always means a heavy swing towards seafood. So I didn't need a special request of a vegetarian set tonight. A scan of the menu confirmed that for this menu, there were only 2 meat items. It wouldn't be difficult for the kitchen to replace those with seafood options, and to surprise me with them. They did so cheerfully.

Instead of 'wagyu tartare and Sarawak black pepper', they gave me a fine grade uni.

I (and a couple of other tables) wanted to murder the woman with a piercing rattle of a voice at the table of four seated across the hall. Our servers apologized to us, but it really wasn't their fault. There was nothing they could do, and they couldn't exactly tell her to tone it down when she wasn't being rowdy and simply was loud, crass and annoying. She could possibly be worse than Ted's talkative new date Cathy, in S3E8 of 'How I Met Your Mother'.

She was impossible to tune out. This woman didn't stop talking! It's as though she didn't need to breathe. The man said something rude about women who can't shut up. (Don't google it.) Hmmmmf. The only times we get a respite- when she was shoveling food into her mouth, and when she went off to the washroom twice in 2.5 hours. Tables looked across one another and smirked, when I involuntarily shrieked a happy, "She went to the washroom! Thank gawwd!" (Unspoken thought, "I hope she gets stuck in the toilet bowl or locked in the cubicle.")

'Egg (beautifully poached, stable), mushroom, pinot noir jus'.

She's otherwise known as long-suffering Kylie's friend. She's Australian, lived in France and California, and now Singapore, didn't pass a job interview in Singapore, compared Australian wines to French ones, and was horribly obnoxious (belittling) to Kylie the whole evening. If I were Kylie, I'd be totally embarrassed to have her as a friend. Unless Kylie is oblivious to it all. I was this close to sending a bottle of S$85 Malbec over to their table with a note which would read, "Please get drunk and shut up." But the man wryly pointed out that, my action would result in us likely ending up in a police station or hospital, with the huge irony of the table having the option to flee the country and still get jobs in their home countries, and we would not have that luxury. DAMMIT. Very reluctantly, I dropped the idea.

Our wine helped. It was a beautiful mellow 1996-something-something-GrandCru. See, this is how much I'm not bothered about wine. While I'm not too hot about new world wines, I don't like easy old worlds either, especially French. Neither can I appreciate the complexity of the really fabulous ones. Can someone pass the bottle of whisky already? It was a good evening still. I was annoyed, but it didn't spoil the date. Entertainment, I view it.

Said no to the main of 'lamb with tomatoes and artichoke'.
It was replaced with an excellent fillet of threadfin on a bed of lentils.

Turned 34

Feeling blessed. I turned 34 yesterday. Happy to be growing older. The friends have been so nice to me. Gifts of thoughtful presents mostly sourced from independent crafters or in many cases, handmade, unexpectedly generous donations to my favorite charities, books (only if you know my reading habits and what are already on my bookshelves) and cards, plenty of gorgeous cards, loads of emails and wishes. I love them all. Thank you.

And the ang pows from the folks. Birthdays, fair enough, since the folks always prefer to give that than rack their brains to buy me presents that they're not sure if I would like. Told them to make a donation, and they'll still add on a present. So much for persuading them to adopt a new format of 'gifting'. FAIL. We're still getting ang pows for the lunar new year from various little pockets of the extended family. Came back to a pile of ang pows. (At least we like these pockets of humans.) WHAT THE APPLE. Never mind, we simply pass it on or dunk that into their Christmas and birthday presents. :) What comes around, goes around, isn't it?

I live life the way I see fit, with no interest to pander to societal demands. If I die tomorrow, I'll have minimal or no regrets. I lack nothing, I want nothing, and I wish for nothing for myself. I'm content. Status quo isn't permanent, not really; I'm keenly aware of the incredible amount of blessings in my life to cherish, appreciate and share. What I do want, is to continue to serve the old folks and push for their causes, to volunteer my time and experience with marine conservation work, and for the people I love to live their lives with clarity, happiness and purpose.

Opeth On My Birthday

I've been wanting to catch Opeth, but for the longest time, I didn't know where I could ambush them. I had considered Maldives (They cancelled anyway!), but decided not to. To make it to Bangalore on 5 February meant I might as well catch them at home on 9 February, smack on my birthday, of which I had wanted to spend in Shanghai. Grrrrrrr.

For once, our tickets were filled with colors and not just that white, blue and black Sistic logo. Nice. With little promotion and fanfare, the promoters really didn't do justice to Opeth's gig at Fort Canning. They're not just a death/black metal band, unlike symphonic Emperor, thrash metal Anthrax, Slayer, or nu-metal Slipknot, and a truckload of other Scandinavian and Japanese black metal outfits. Opeth is so much more than that. It's leaning more towards progressive rock and progressive metal, heavy with folk influences. It's melodic even. Not every number equates growling. But yes, Mikael Åkerfeldt isn't just a good singer. He can growl really well.

We were a little stunned to discover that there was no beer tent or water point at the gig. Wah lau. But okay. For 2 hours, I guess we'll survive. It's just really really weird for a gig, an Opeth gig at that, not to have alcohol. Duhhhh. Never mind, we'll sort that out later. At least we came hydrated from dinner, and didn't wait around too long. Who would turn at 7.30pm like what the tickets said? Doors opened at 8pm and the band came on at 8.45pm.

Opeth opened the set with 'The Devil's Orchard'. There were 'Face of Melinda' and 'Slither'. These are dark, depressing, yet soulful and melodic songs. Mikael Åkerfeldt was an absolute charmer on stage. Witty and quick, he introduced themselves as the band from a boring Sweden. Heh. (I happen to think otherwise. Many friends in Sweden and Norway, and I'll have plenty to do there.) He continued, "We have ABBA, lots of death metal bands, and pop bands. But those pop bands are shit. Oh yes, Swedish erotica. But those films aren't of Swedish actors f'*!ing one another. Those films are made in America!" Ha. And IKEA, dude, IKEA. How could you not have said that?!

After the sweet stuff for the first half of the set, the angst and growling came on with 'Heir Apparent', and continued to 'The Drapery Falls'. They didn't play one of my favorites 'Porcelain Heart'. :( Mikael Åkerfeldt threw guitar picks out to the crowd. I wouldn't have minded one, but I wasn't near enough to the stage. Bleah. 10 songs and 1 encore which they didn't bother to do the shitty thing of going off stage and wait for us to yell for their return. Woot. The night ended with a seriously heavy 'Deliverance'. Glorious. Good show. No bells and whistles, but absolutely sexy in the way they make music. Excellent musicianship.

Goodbye Shanghai

The rain sent me off. I stared out of the window for the longest time, absorbing the last grey view of the city. Decided to break the no-alcohol inflight rule and had champagne. Wine or whisky would kill me. But champagne works. They offered Krug. I finished 2 teeny glasses. The plane taxied. I continued with more glasses of champagne after that. I grinned and told the stewardess to just leave me the bottle and I'll pour it myself instead of troubling her. Of course she didn't do so. Heh. They never do.

Time to leave. With the Chinese visa in hand and full VPN access to the internet on the Macbook, I'd have stayed longer if not for the angsty matter of wanting to catch Opeth who scheduled the gig on this night. (No surprise that they had to cancel their gig in Maldives because of the coup d'état.) I had wanted to stay a full month in Shanghai. Gaaaah. Oh well.

I bravely came here for Chinese New Year with one aim- to spend time with the bff. I was a tad worried that the man might be bored in his week here, but he wasn't. Thankfully, the shops (more like bars and makan places) were open throughout the festive season this year. All in all, it's been a happy trip for me, and hopefully for the bff too. Muahahaha. We sometimes irritate the hell out of each other. To be able to hang out 24/7 is an amazing feat.

Saying goodbye to the bff is always difficult. It doesn't get easier. Knowing that I don't like looking back through the windscreen as the car drives away from humans, I always tell myself not to look back. Still I did. That image of the bff and her partner waving choked me up. I gulped the cup of Costa (last of it!) coffee in hand and slouched into the seat, a little sad. I could feel tears welling up. No crying, impie. But we deal with it. So I sniffed and blinked away tears. We know there will be another get-together, be it in Shanghai again, Singapore or elsewhere. Sigh. It would be sooner though, if I could join her on her work trip up to the northern hemisphere. We'll see.

Placing Ang Pows By The Window

The man and I aren't sticklers for tradition or that ang-pow-giving silliness at Chinese New Year. You know how we hate receiving ang pows a couple of years back. It's a tad annoying that we still receive them. Likewise, the friends will slit my throat if I dare to give them ang pows. The bff is no exclusion to this behavior. But this Chinese New Year is special. I've spent it with my favorite people without fuss and politicking. It's been all fun and dandy.

I don't quite enjoy bunking in with humans unless I'm certain of their living habits. There're only so few humans that I'd enjoy staying with, and one of which is the bff, and her very unassuming and nice partner. I wasn't sure if the man would be comfortable, but I figured that since he's less anal than I am, he would cope alright. He was more than okay. He's quite happy having room-mates. He said, "This is quite fun!" Sure. When you find room-mates who're the perfect fit, like the bff and her partner.

This trip, I appreciate the hospitality and warmth shown by them, allowing the invasion of their privacy, the loan of their space, utilization of their electricity (especially for heating), and whatnots. Each time we dine out, it's an embarrassing fight for the bill. I'm not really sure who has ultimately won. But I'll say, I win, because I sneakily left two ang pows for them by the window sill. I didn't mention a thing till I hopped into the waiting car that would take me to the airport. I wound down the window and hollered at them to go check the books by the window. :)

True enough (the part about slitting my throat), an hour later, the bff texted me in caps. "WAH LAU. WE'RE SO OLD ALREADY STILL GIVE US ANG POW FOR F'*^???!!!" Seated at the lounge in the airport, I choked on the bottle of water I was drinking, and cringed. She's damn fierce lor. Luckily this was over the phone. You don't want to see her yell that out. I could imagine her expression. Priceless. Oh well, too late! She has no choice but to accept them. Hahaha. I typed out my FTW reply. "You gotta admit the ang pows are cute right? I bought the whole Hello Kitty pack for this one ang pow for you. I brought it all the way. Not going to take it home. Come to the airport and scold me lor."