Fine Dining- Balinese Food

In Bali, all the restaurants redefine fine dining. I've struggled with the concept of paying up to S$100 per pax for Balinese or Indonesian food at Mozaic and Bumbu (both of which I dislike). It could be more expensive than the modern European or Australian fare in Seminyak and Nusa Dua.

It's probably because we've never had the fine dining concept for Malay or Indonesian food in Singapore and only grew up with cheap eats in town and across the causeway. Straits Kitchen and The House of Sundanese Food just don't cut it. In Bali, there're plenty of fine dining fusion-Balinese restaurants that are either stand-alone or housed in resorts.

On this trip, I've come to terms with it. Remember that out of this world ayam betutu I've had in Gilimanuk? I'm sure it cost no more than RP50,000 per pax. I'd pay S$30++ for that. I've learnt to differentiate between rough roadside Balinese/Padang food and the delicate dishes the restaurants churn out. Sure, you pay a premium for certain ingredients. But hey, this is Bali. Make no mistake, this island, like ours, isn't a cheap travel destination. I can spend the same amount here as I would, in Maldives or Seychelles. Every luxury and comfort is charged accordingly. Only Antigua, Santorini and Saint Tropez a couple of years back inflated my usual travel budget by 60% because I wanted the same level of privacy in the West Indies and European resorts.

In the restaurants, they call it 'gindara', I call it 'cod'. Marinated in Balinese spices, their grilled fish is always done to perfection. The curries, gravies and all were lightly spiced and nothing was overdosed on the coconut milk. The man fell in love with the tender sweet soy pork which he said reminded him of a similar style in his grandmother's cooking once upon a time. We also had duck smoked to a peaty rich taste which made the meat taste un-gamey.

The chefs seem to understand the spices available in the region and how it'd mesh with imported ones in the food. There's something exquisite in how the chefs flavor their dishes. That takes skill.

Coffee At Breakfasts

I thought the coffee would be shite on this trip. But no, each cup I've had has been fabulous. It began on the plane when they made me a thick Colombian black. Service on this 2hr flight is always quite rushed. So I'm glad they took the trouble to make me what I wanted instead of simply serving their regular brew.

I've firmly turned down invitations to visit all coffee plantations and especially anything to do with kopi luwak. There isn't a need to waste my time since I don't know how to appreciate those brews. Besides Nespresso and fancy coffee machines in the villas, the resorts do a very decent brew of cappuccino and flat white. It isn't just about the skills of the baristas, although they've never burnt my coffee and do a good mix of less milk. It's also in the beans they use. The roast is good. It's a fabulous way to begin the day.

I haven't been experimental in juices during the mornings. I love orange juice and it wouldn't feel right to begin the day without a fresh glass. The oranges used are perfect for juices- thick, an even balance of tartness and sweet. I've been drinking glasses and glasses of it. The smoothies held the man's attention though. He liked all that they offered, especially the classic ones with banana. He also went into the kitchen to ask them to do a peanut butter smoothie. Doh.

At Uluwatu

We've shifted out to another villa at the southern tip of the island. This week, we won't hear the surf crash against the shore when we wake and sleep. We'll only be able to see the great blue from afar. Still nice.

At Uluwatu, we're perched high on the cliff above the ocean. Perhaps during low tide at sunset, we'll stroll down the resort's 500 steps to the exposed beach and check out those rock pools for a bit. We're done with the jungle and swamps, and will check out other sea sports in the area.

For now, we've a gigantic space to laze around in. We're just about 1.5 hours (with the famous Indonesian traffic jams) away from Seminyak and all its good eats. Travelling through the city centre to get to the other side can be very annoying. The roads in Bali are now horrendously congested. The entire stretch of Jalan Bypass Ngurah Rai is perpetually frozen in a traffic jam. To save you 15 minutes of staring at another car's exhaust pipe on Jalan Sunset Road, you'd better hope your driver knows how to pay RP2000 to cut across via Carrefour hypermart. Negotiating that silly roundabout in front of the DFS Galleria is simply an exercise in extreme patience.

As much as I'm not into food on this trip, it'll still probably feature a couple of good dinners from now. I'd like to do some seafood (not at Jimbaran Bay!). But I put my foot down on checking out the famous restaurants in Nusa Dua. Not particularly keen to travel to that enclave.

Pristine Beaches In West Bali

For the initial part of our trip, I'm very glad we picked this area to stay at. I daresay that these black sand beaches along the west off Denparsa are the most beautiful on the island.

The seas off the south (definitely), east and north are already polluted. The dark brown beaches of Sanur, Seminyak and Kuta are dirtier than a garbage dump. Even the main beaches of Nusa Lembongan are too. I would never remove my slippers at those beaches. At the beaches in West Bali, they're still relatively unspoilt. Almost pristine. They're secluded and very private, even though most stretches are open to the public. I stayed there for hours and only saw a few souls. It's very obvious that not many tourists come out this far west of Bali.

The black sand glisten in the sun, as if diamond dust has been sprinkled all over. The sand is so fine and soft. I didn't just go cartwheeling on the sand. I did all sorts of stuff- stretches, splits, jumps and bends. The tranquility is unbelievably fabulous.

Developers have begun to turn their eyes towards this beautiful and serene region. In 3 years, I believe West Bali would be no different from Seminyak. Tourism is a double-edged sword. I hope this area doesn't degenerate into Ubud in the chase for the tourist dollar. With many sighs, I store nature's beauty into my memories. I'm quite sure this would be my last trip to Bali for a while. I've lived here for months on end, returning recently to check out its progress. I think I'm done with the island. It's been marvelous for a while. But as the years pass, the island has become disappointing. It's getting more challenging to suss out what else I want to do here, or if I want repeats of anything.

At The Spa

I admit it, my muscles are aching!!! With its long smooth strokes and deep pressure, a Balinese massage has never felt so good. It's so light, yet its effects are far reaching and deeply felt the next day. Coupled with all the physical exertions, I'm now nicely aching all over. Muscles that have been long forgotten and are now awakened. I feel, alive.

Oh, I couldn't resist doing a facial too. I haven't been too strict with the cleaning routine at night. I simply use wipes. While I've been zealous about plying sunblock on the face, I seem to have largely ignored moisturizing it at night.

The skin has been sunkissed, but not sunburnt. The man, however, has grossly underestimated the Bali sun and got quite burnt. A salvage attempt at the spa saw him do a body wrap of cucumber and aloe vera. His skin has risen up in little bubbles that are going to peel and itch very soon. Heh. He went jogging on the sand, did push-ups in the sun, swam laps in the main pool and basically stayed in the sun. This will be the moment to rub it in 'I told you so!'

I could do head to the spas in Singapore as well. There isn't much difference in the prices. The products used might just be a little more interesting and varied. The only pull factor- I've the time and the indulgence to do so here. To more spa sessions in Bali then. They're absolutely lovely.

Swinging Along

On yet another trek through primary forests, we kept a look out for wild boars and animals bigger than a dog. We crossed teeny streams, small rivers and climbed up their steep banks that had no handholds except for tree roots, branches and volcanic rocks. While sliding through the dense bushes and trees, we were conscious that we were climbing vertically up, up and up to a vantage point known only to our guide.

We came across huge rock formations that the guide said were dead coral left behind from the ancient times when the sea came up this far inland. It did look like fossilized coral. It was really a different vista from what a city could offer. Best of all, no cellphone signal penetrate the depths. The Iridium came into good use again, together with walkie talkies. After holding the camera in hand for a while, I gave up and threw it into the backpack. Some moments were just not meant to be captured. It would be much easier to remember them than try to fiddle with the dials on the camera. I needed free hands to climb.

This was just a 4-hour trek. Not too exhausting. It was awesome climbing through dense vegetation, smelling the flora and fauna before emerging high up on the slope of the forest. Very satisfying. If we were there longer, we'd have to be decked out in proper gear, like wear hat with netting, high boots, long pants and long-sleeved shirts. The man cackled and said that it was macham jungle training during National Service all over again.

We learnt about sturdy liana, how to pick them out and importantly, how to use them. Then the man howled in triumph as he hopped on one and swung across another tiny river across to the other muddy bank.

For about 10 minutes, we felt a little bit like Bear Grylls.

I totally understand how being an adrenalin junkie feels like. If I could, I would do alot of those things I saw on tv. I've done some, but not all. There'll be more to come in the years I hope. Those things are crazy indeed, and so exhilarating.

Light Dinners

There's something very satisfying about slathering pieces of brown or multi-grain bread with delicate smooth butter and then sprinkling black pepper, sea salt and dukkah onto them. To us, that mark the start of a healthy light dinner.

Out of necessity, breakfasts and lunches have been major affairs. But the meal taken before we sleep has to be a light one for now. Otherwise, I'd just feel so bloated. When we move on to another resort nearer to the city, we'd have no lack of opportunities to feast. These couple of nights, we've been feeling so damn healthy that dinners consisted of mostly salads and breads. Or fish. Minimal carbs. Perfect, I tell you.

I've 5kg to lose before hitting my ideal weight. May this trip hurtle me over that plateau and kickstart the loss of the next 5kg. The cellulite on the thighs has miraculously receded. But I've no doubt they'll be back with a vengeance the moment I'm not exercising enough. You'll see when I'm back in the office plonked on my chair for 5 hours a day.

What's more interesting now is, I'm on my way to getting those abs. The abs will hopefully last for 2 weeks. Just a little while because I'm doing a truckload of exercise. When I feel braver, I'll post a clearer bikini shot (that isn't intentionally blurred or darkened) for you to grin at. :p

About Reading

I'm feeling very accomplished because I've managed to catch on all my reading. Back at home when days are filled with work, there's very little space for reading in the evenings when all sorts of other things demand my attention. There're very few days when I could just curl up with a book at 9pm and finish it before bedtime.

It's just such leisurely luxury to be able to read and flip the newspapers without having to watch the time. Don't we remember a time in school when we did nothing but read all day and all night? We stayed up nights to finish all those series of fantasy journeys and magical quests, and chased the thrillers to the end in one sitting because we were too impatient to put it down for a second reading. Sleep was an annoyance then.

Ironically, on vacation and work trips, I don't just squeeze in all the activities I want to do. I also found lots of pockets of leisure time to read. Books, magazines, online sites, everything. I read in the room, outside at the cabana, in the sitting room, by the pool (Don't laugh at my Guitarist magazine!), at the beach, everywhere. The man is the same. He devours even more than I do. He reads in the car- something which I can't do because it induces nausea.

I could have brought the Kindle along. (I'm not bothered about iPads!) Instead, I brought hard copies. Physically flipping a book is just, nicer, for some unknown reason. Reading this way is easier on the eye. I like seeing words in print on paper. It's so....quaint, I suppose.

Planting Rice Is Never Fun

The one thing that I didn't manage to persuade the butler to organize, is a white water rafting trip down Balian River. He cited that even at this period which is the end of the rainy season, the river could swell to Grade 4 - 5 and it would only for the instructors to do their training, not for tourists. It's exactly what I want. I don't want the dainty-no-kick Ayung River bluff-tourist type of rafting. But he gently persuaded me not to make such an attempt on the Balian River. Why??!!! Grrrrr.

Ah well, there're other things to do. Planting rice takes place throughout the year. Each crop takes 120 days to mature. Technically, each plot of land is able to produce 2 crops annually, with the months in between for the land to rest and become fertile again. I was quite sure the butler would be able to find me a plot of land that had been ploughed and ready for seedlings for a new crop. My butler (I love the idea of the word!) was a little incredulous. "You want to plant rice?" His tone went a little higher and unwittingly glanced at my varnished nails. I gleefully nodded in affirmative.

The deed was to be done early in the morning before the heat of the land got to the farmers. Waking up at 4.30am was no sweat. It was the back-breaking action of bending and squatting that made it a total work-out. I was too chicken not to wear shoes. So I wore sandals and sank knee deep into mud. Then, I had to push the seedlings in the right way. Otherwise, they'll just keel over when the wind rises. Planting rice is hard work. And what I did, was probably the most fun portion out of the entire cycle of growing rice.

Apparently, farmers in Tabanan Regency might not own the land they painstakingly nurture. If they maintain, plant and harvest for a landlord, they stand to earn 50% of the profits. However, if they only plant and harvest, then they earn a meagre 25%. The rice farmers don't seem to have an easy life. But who am I to comment on what's best for them? Looking at the narrow roads in Tabanan which are only made up of 2 lanes for traffic travelling to and fro, it won't be able to contain the busloads of tourists who might venture here in the near future. I hope it doesn't turn into Ubud where traffic is already ridiculous. Narrow lanes like that are not meant for heavy vehicular traffic. Yet, the natural pace of development dictate that its local charm might disappear in another 5 years.

Would I want to become a rice farmer and do this year after year? No way. But if I've never known any other way of life, who knows. Perhaps I'd be contented doing so. There's something very attractive in the simplicity of life here.

Through The Mangrove Swamps

On an easy 3-hour walk through the mangrove swamps and a little bit of the primary forests in Taman Nasional Bali Barat, we saw many fun animals, insects and whathaveyous. I love them mudskippers. So cute.

To us, it wasn't a strenuous session. I wore sandals and bermudas and went sloshing in the mud among the tree roots. Even though we walked through dense undergrowth taller than us at some points, there was nothing to be feared. To many city folks, it would be a little daunting. To seasoned trekkers, it would be nothing more than a stroll in the park. To the Balinese villagers and their little kids, the areas we covered were their backyard and playground.

It was quite a cool day already. By that, it was a cloudy 29degreesC. Still very humid. But I do quite alright in hot weather, so no issues there. Again, being prepared for the heat and decked out in dri-fit clothes helped tremendously. And yes, there were swarms of those damn mosquitoes which I hate. Luckily for the very effective insect repellent, otherwise we'd have gotten more bites. The man had a grand total of 5 mozzie bites. I had, well, none. :D

We saw 3 varieties of kingfishers. There were the small reds (Rufus Backed), medium blues (Cerulean) like that one in the photo and tiny multi-coloreds (Javan). This photo posted here was taken through the lens of the telescope; unedited, save for resizing. I loved the rich wildlife. We do have something like this in Singapore- Sungei Buloh (with the boardwalk too) although it isn't exactly comparable because that is so tame. This is the real thing. But many migratory birds stop over in Singapore. Hmmm....like humans. On this trek, we saw plenty of other birds too. But I was at a complete loss as to the exact species beyond the generic names. Our guide had a book of birds and we flipped through it. But because we were wading through mud and primary forests, I was too distracted to remember which varieties they belong to.

Our guide lugged a very good telescope along which made the trip so much more fruitful. It was incredible how his experienced eye spotted living things way before our useless city eyes did. He picked out crabs, birds and spiders in the most obscure of places. I was excellent at spotting creepy crawlies though. And the thorns on the bushes. Those thorns were ridiculously accurate in attempting to pierce our flesh.

Further inland, there were fresh deer tracks running through the muddy forest floor. Pity we couldn't spot the owner lurking anywhere. We were probably too noisy. Chehh. We didn't see any other animals bigger than a shoe. Luckily we didn't run into any wild boars. Honestly, we lacked first aid equipment. If we did meet an angry boar, I'm not sure climbing a tree would help all that much.

What a very fun experience in the mangrove swamps! I perspired like mad, got kissed by many bugs and scratched by tree roots, but I loved it.

Breakfast

I've turned my stomach topsy-turvy with a whole new sudden set of meal-times. Since there's plenty of physical strength required, carbs and protein would be needed in the day, so breakfast is a must during these 2 weeks. Coffee isn't compulsory, but it's nice to have because the resorts do a unexpectedly good flat white.

Unlike the man, I don't have space for nasi goreng in the morning. At 7am, I stick to juice, eggs, cheese and bread. Muesli and granola will do fine too. I've fallen in love with this zucchini bread. It's so tasty. Not salty and not too sweet, it's a heavy bread with an earthy fresh veggie tint that's quite filling in a slice.

Lunch is also necessary because we need to replenish all the energy expended through climbing and perspiration. It's also a good break in the middle of the day for some rest. While we're enthusiastic about the activities, we must also spare some thought for the guide and driver who work so hard to keep us well taken care of. Anyway, after a morning of doing whatever jumping or walking, by 1pm, I'm strangely hungry.

Dinner is not a must at this juncture. We've been having salad as an early dinner before we hit the sack by 9pm. I'm inclined to think that this lifestyle is having a positive influence on the body. I feel lighter, stronger and importantly, I don't whine when I wake up in the mornings. My brain and body tell me that I've had sufficient sleep. There isn't a need to laze in bed before I roll out. The vacation's sleep cycle and messy food rhythm are unbelievably healthy.

Authentically Balinese

Our guide asked us if we preferred to have an Indonesian or Balinese lunch. I gave him the whole spiel on how Balinese food wasn't exactly spicy and when we were given spicy, all that was added, were a ton of sliced chilli padi, which always ended up disappointing.

I asked the guide if he could bring us to a local place for something properly spicy - flavorful spicy, and without pork. He promised, "Let me take you to somewhere nice." We went all the way to the western tip of Bali- Gilimanuk (where few tourists venture), to a small little warung for a lunch of ayam betutu.

I looked at the chicken. It had to be the real kampung chicken. I tentatively took a bite. My goodness, I've not tasted such good chicken for a long time! It was definitely organic, and definitely kampung. It had none of that chickeny-stink that I loathed. Drizzled with a mixture of my favorite things like ALOT of shallots, turmeric, galangal, lemongrass, shrimp paste, chillies, salam leaves, kaffir lime and plenty more things, the gravy was AWESOME. We were given half a chicken. I must have eaten a quarter. The man polished off the rest. I swear it's all in the chicken. It wasn't exactly the most tender of all. It wasn't meaty. It was just a healthy chicken that hadn't been infused with all that hormone shite and modern feed.

We ate with our fingers. The plate of bawang with shallots and chillies was beautiful. I went gaga over that, kachang and plain rice. The plate of sambal terasi bowled me over. The man and I swept the plate clean. Our guide and driver couldn't believe we really liked the food and that we didn't bother with the cutlery and followed suit to eat with our fingers.

Over the years and especially those months that I lived in Bali then, I've eaten at many stalls which proclaim to do ayam betutu well. Bullshit lor. This little warung tucked far away from the tourists has to be one of the best ayam betutu on the island. None of that touristy non-spicy crap, thankyouverymuch. I'm not sure if many of you will want to come just to eat at this stall. It's a good 4.5 to 5 hours away from say, Seminyak. Due to Gilimanuk's proximity to Java, the people have probably adopted alot of the varieties of sambal in their cooking. What a surprisingly tasty lunch.

Gone Surfing

Aside from the beachfront of our resort, the other surf sites near us are the tiny stretches at Soka and Balian Beaches, and of course, Medewi Beach. I headed straight to Medewi Beach to check it out. My goodness, the beach was simply gorgeous. There weren't many surfers around. Not many tourists either! YAY!

But aiyah, wrong move. I should have parked my ass at the calmer waters of Soka Beach. Medewi Beach is for seriously experienced surfers. The waves were huge! The rocks at this stretch of the beach were super dangerous. I wouldn't want to be smashed against it. But 1 out 15 waves will be that big one that you can't help but ride on with a carefree toss of the hands.

It was awesome. The only problem, I'm not a very good surfer. I lasted for only 25 minutes before calling it a day. Paddling out to catch that wave meant I had nothing else but the surfboard to rely on. I got tired after a while. I'm deathly scared of swimming in the sea because I don't know what lies beneath. That's probably why diving appeals more to me than any other form of sea sports. In order to surf, I could only conquer my fear for a little while before I need to get back onto dry land.

Battling waves is rather exhausting. Luckily my toenails and fingernails are intact after. Phew. I was so afraid of losing the surfboard or worse, have it slam into my shins. That would be beyond painful. Can you imagine how difficult it would be to sort out repair jobs here? Eiooww.

In West Bali

We've chosen to stay slightly off the beaten track in Tabanan. It's near to where we want to go. We've a really comfortable villa to retire to at night (replete with a very clean dip pool, Nespresso machine and AppleTV!) and could trek across the region in the day.

I want to climb Mount Batukaru, surf at Medewi and check out the Taman Nasional Bali Barat. Last month in Bali, I was a total sloth. That was swell. So this round, I want to get the muscles moving. By the end of this trip, I wouldn't just have taut thighs and arms or a flat tummy. I would also have gotten abs to boot.

Tabanan Regency is known as the 'rice bowl' of Bali and it's rightly so. Acres of majestic lush paddy fields stretch from end to end and all the way from the mountains to the sea. It's amazingly unspoilt and breathtakingly beautiful.

As I traverse the area, I'm beginning to feel damn cheated about Ubud. Ubud might be a centre for the arts, but only because the tourists made it so. It can't claim to have the most verdant rice fields. Not when there's Tabanan. Tabanan's unspoilt beauty wins Ubud's meagre slopes hands down. There aren't flocks of yakking tourists here. There're no souvenir shops, no nightclubs and no shopping- my idea of heaven.

This is the Bali that I remember and am glad to have found it again along the pastoral roads from Antosari to Papuan. The eyes have been thirsty for this undulating vista. There is a feeling that this timeless beauty will remain as such forever. I certainly hope so.

Off To Bali

It was a huge rush sprinting to the airport. Even with the online check-in system, we still needed to push through the luggage. We had plenty. The man brought along his tiny travel guitar. *roll eyes* We arrived barely 40 minutes to departure.

The little bear has always been very suspicious of airplane food. However, even he found no bad things to say about the food on our way to Bali. The fruits are always refreshing. But I was rather impressed by my mains. I had earlier requested for roasted vegetables. No further details were given at that point. So I was pleasantly surprised to find a variety on the plate, along with a very tasty slab of potato gratin. It was all very nice. The man wasn't contented with his lobster thermidor thingy. It was strangely creamy. He stole half my food. Tsk.

It was a short flight and I didn't bother to nap. I caught up with all the newspapers and magazines. There would be lots of stuff to do and plenty of time to rest when I land. No, I didn't take the work laptop along. With its meagre functions, there wasn't any impetus to. If the work laptop was snazzier, I would have, and bothered to clear some work at some point this week.

In this case, I'm very much looking forward to resting my eyes, look at green and blue and of course, the nightly 10-hour sleeps.

Guess Where?

It's a rhetorical question, of course.

The first 3.5 days of the vacation are spent in a secret location. :) And I'm not telling you where. Of course I'll somehow have internet access. I always do. I'll die without it.

Then, it's off to glorious days of doing nothingness (again) in Bali.

An Indie Garden Wedding

If there's one wedding worth delaying a vacation for, it's this couple's fabulously cool wedding at Fort Canning. It wasn't just a wedding party. There was no bullshit dressing up in silly heels or caterers passing off bad food as fancy. It was a refreshingly honest and fun party that reflected the personalities of the bride and groom.

This wedding party was rock star cool with sundresses and havaianas. The stage, was effectively, a full gig set up complete with pub grub and beer!. How to resist those food stands where one could get hotdogs, potato, pasta salad and Ramly burgers! Chilled Pure Blonde in plastic mugs ruled!

We loved that spacious stage and solid set-up. Good sound, great bands. Awesome to see the friends lend an air of festivity with all the strumming and singing to wish the wedding couple well. At the same time, we celebrated the flourishing Singapore indie music scene. The bawang and chilli must have worked. The evening was beautifully breezy and easy on the humidity.

I eyed that big bouncy castle like crazy. But I couldn't, in good conscience, chase the children out so that this giant impie could go jump on it. So I had to just watch wistfully. We couldn't stay for long and there were many other people to catch up with. (A shoutout to cavalock! But I'm sure we left before you arrived.)

We heard that the fireworks at 11.30pm were breathtaking. Brightly colored ones that went high up in the sky. What a sparkling way to end the evening and celebrate the beginning of a new chapter in the friends' lives. Pity we couldn't stay till then. Congratulations, E and L!

At Ah Orh

We were taken out to this air-conditioned zi char kopitiam tucked away deep in the heartlands of Bukit Merah. Very intriguing. We hadn't been to such fun places lately. We were told that Ah Orh Seafood Restaurant had been around for some time and was a popular eatery for casual family dinners.

We broke out the Laphroaig Triple Wood for the table to try. It was kinda odd, yes. I was very tickled by the plastic ice bucket. But we had good food and the company of single malt lovers. There was no better time to taste this new expression. It was peaty, but not as strong as the quarter cask. I'm not a fan of Laphroaig. But this expression is rather lovable. It'd be a good introduction to the distillery for sure. Importantly, and not surprisingly, it went very well with the food. I think I'm getting the knack of matching single malts to the various foods.

There was a juicy yummy oyster omelette that was eaten up really fast. I had what I wanted- stir-fry bean sprouts with salted fish. Those went well with a spoonful of rice. Knowing that I don't eat much crab, the friends ordered a plate of crayfish for me! Yay. The crayfish wasn't too dry. I polished off a good half of the plate. Heheehhe.

Since we weren't going to get much good food next week, the friends were fully bent on fattening us up for a couple of meals. They made sure we had space left for a bit of smooth and sticky orh nee (a Teochew yam paste dessert with gingko nuts and often, lard).

Thank goodness I wasn't that stuffed. I knew indigestion wouldn't plague me tonight. Since I was eating with friends, they ordered loads of stuff suitable for each at the table. So I didn't have to spend too much effort to control the amount of food that went into the stomach.

No Carbs!

It was a good thing that I didn't need to stay late at the office. Very rare that I could clear most of the pieces of work on a Thursday, leaving Friday free to meet my foreign guests, have a chat with other colleagues and not stay on the email all day.

An impromptu date with the girlfriend at the foot reflexologist gave us 90 minutes of stoned bliss. It was a session that I had scheduled for yesterday, but had to cancel to head to a dinner instead. After settling comfortably into the armchair with the legs propped up, I realized I didn't have the ipod in the bag, i.e. no music to distract me from the stinging pain, so I requested for a light touch to the feet. Whew. The Vogue and Style magazines kept me distracted mostly.

Looking for food in town at 9.30pm saw us end up at Taste Paradise at Ion. Since I was still nursing a tender stomach, light bites were ideal. I really wasn't hungry and was just looking for a nibble. I had that hot bowl of double-boiled soup which filled me up nicely. But we also had a table-full of dishes that held no carbs.

Bamboo clams, vegetables and tiny lobsters were always good choices for a guiltless dinner.

White Asparagus

Since the words 'funeral', 'wedding' and 'sharks' fin', used separately in different context get my goat, there is one set that will take that frown away. That will be 'white asparagus'. What better place than to organize dinner at Otto Ristorante to sample the vegetable that is synonymous with spring.

I was very pleased to see that the restaurant has added a couple of new elements to their regular menu and kept some old favorites. I have to try some of the new offerings.

We definitely overdosed on white asparagus done in all sorts of ways- raw, cooked and caramelized. A pity the kitchen was out of the agnolotti with tarragon emulsion and monkfish. It'd have been very nice to taste that. So we settled for the homemade tagliatelle with Parmesan cheese and truffle cream sauce, Montasio cheese gratin with sunny side up egg, Scottish salmon salad with oranges and dill. Lovely. I idly wondered if Otto steams its stalks of asparagus in milk to rid it of the bitterness. Of course the kitchen would have to either steam them upright or somehow lift the heads out of water/milk in the pan to retain their crunchy texture.

We also had dishes that didn't contain white asparagus. The ubiquitous sea urchin spaghetti, of course. We always love that. As if pasta wasn't enough to throw everyone into a carb coma. The table also ordered the meats. There were cute pieces of superbly grilled steaks and fish.

Since so many of us have been hopping in and out of Bali over these few months, the friends who eat pork wanted to see for themselves if the suckling pig at Otto would be better than Bali's babi guling. How do you even compare, seriously? Of course the friends concluded that Otto's suckling pig was really much more delicate and didn't quite taste like pork. I simply wrinkled my nose at it. Oh that cackling crispy skin versus gooey globs of fat and tender meat. I couldn't stomach it. The friends ooh-ed and ahhhed, scooped up ALL the heavenly fat and proclaimed it unerringly delicious.

So, ice, after all that amazing food, we didn't make dessert, again. My stomach had been stretched to its limits and was protesting by inducing loud unglamorous burps that couldn't be quelled. As it was, I couldn't sleep immediately. Any more food would mean suffering through heartburn and indigestion through the night! To feel less stuffed, I had to take a good long walk and stood around for 1.5 hours after dinner.

My Leica Digilux 4

I've never dreamt about bags the way I lusted after cameras. Now that I've not much use for an SLR, I've firmly pushed all thoughts of acquiring one out of my mind. I enjoy taking photos, but I'm not passionate about it. Other point and shoot cameras which could process RAW images have become better options for capturing memories and those yummy moments.

My darling Ricoh GrD has served me brilliantly. I love it. It's the only reason why I didn't buy the Leica D-Lux 4 (DL4) sooner. But I couldn't tear my thoughts away from the DL4. Such is the power of a Leica. In London last December, I couldn't take my eyes off the M9. But that's clearly not an option because I'll never do justice to it. However, between then and now, the Canon S90 popped up with really attractive specs, works great in lowlight and seems to be a fairly good pick overall, especially for a girl with dainty bags.

After all that hemming, hawing, testing out the friends' units and surfing around for information, I finally mustered up the courage to run to Funan Mall today to make a choice. I needed to ummm....buy vegetables. But I had to get a camera first. Blind lust. The moment I got off the cab, I had already decided on the Leica.

I was rather stunned by the size of the case for the DL4. So big ah?!!! It wouldn't fit into any of my bags! The guy gave me a brown case for the camera and didn't see any issues with that. I stared very long at the color combination of black and brown. I was like, "Do you have it in black instead? I want it to match the camera." The guy must have tried really hard not to roll his eyes.

I'm not going to stop using the GrD. It's very handy. And even with its case, the GrD fits beautifully in any Chanel 2.55. The DL4 doesn't have that advantage. With its bulky case and weight, the DL4 will fit a tote best. Or I can sling it like an additional purse. I'm secretly sure that my choice of bag for the day might determine which camera I take out. Hahaha. Such a bimbotic statement. That, and of course, the event I'm attending. The DL4 will go out in the evenings and off to the gigs with me. :)

A Bowl Of Chirashizushi

A sudden work assignment resulted in me zipping off from the team lunch at Tatsuya way earlier than expected. Since the boss personally called me, I figured I'd do it. It didn't take much effort. In a nutshell, it was just a discussion on the merits of a 600 thread count Percale bedsheet versus a Sateen piece with the same thread count.

But. It's so rare for our team to be in town in the same week, and to be able to pop out for lunch at the same time. I was really hoping to sit down with the team for a good fun chat. Too bad it wasn't meant to be. I was a little sad that I couldn't eat my chirashizushi in peace. At my request, the sushi chefs sped through and had my order served 10 minutes. I finished it in 15 minutes. That was the fastest I've ever eaten at Tatsuya. Luckily I was hungry. Since I was going to be walking all afternoon in heels, the carbs would be burnt off. I left my team and hoped they enjoyed their meal.

I'm not miffed with my boss. He's been put into a difficult situation and he has to sort it out. Oh well. I'm not too sympathetic. The problem fits into his pay scale. :p What I would really love to do, is to bill the other cowardly team manager for my bowl of chirashizushi.

Which brings to mind a question. What kind of leader would you want to be? To be a leader loved by your people or to be a leader loved by the bigwigs above? Is there a right or wrong answer to it? I guess not. It depends on what sort of moral high ground one holds.

I don't care to be liked. I'm mindful of the need to hit our quality and revenue targets. While I need to prod and push the team to the limit, I need to trust that they're able to do their jobs. I'm floundering when it comes to nurturing the competencies and talents of my team. There're plenty of opportunities, but shouldn't each individual grab the chance to shine on their own? When I leave and there's a promotion from within the ranks because they've grown into the roles, then I'd have done my job.

At the same time, I also care about integrity. If I don't fight for my team and protect them, who will? When there's a screw-up, I don't shirk from the responsibility or finger point. We solve our shit together. My team's mistakes are mine. And our achievements are ours. I care about making my team feel that they belong, that the work they do is something worth doing for this period of their lives.

After today, I'm even clearer about the type of leader that I don't want to be.

Lazing The Sunday Away

All too soon, the man is coming home. In fact, he's mid-air and will land in a couple of hours. I'll catch him for dinner later. I think I miss Monmouth Coffee and Lantana's baked eggs quite a bit more than I miss him. :p Skype has made keeping contact all too easy.

I thought that I'd somehow be able to get at least 9 hours of sleep each night that the man's away. But no, I've been so occupied with all sorts of interesting matters that I've been running on a 6-hour sleep cycle. Arrrrgh.

Over the week, I've had many dinners at Tatsuya with different groups of friends till I'm just a teeeeny bit sick of it. Next week, I want to do plenty of pasta and white asparagus at the Italian restaurants. The only thing- I need to be very careful with the calories. Hearty Italian dinners contributed to the extra layer of fats in 2008 and 2009. Now that I've shed some, I don't want to pile it back on.

Amidst lobster laksa at Chatterbox and dinner at Tung Lok Signatures with the girlfriend, it was nice to put in a couple of laps at the pool. Then we went to watch Ip Man 2! Well, I wanted to watch. The girlfriend was nice enough to oblige. Otherwise, I wouldn't have anyone to watch it with me! I do like this sort of action shows. Guns, fists, bombs. These sort of movies make a good Sunday.

That, and I learnt a new bus route home from Vivocity which could be way faster than taking a cab in a horrendous weekend queue.

Karaoke

For all my indie inclinations, there was a period in my life when I listened to Chinese and Cantonese songs. That was when I was trying damn hard to study the language to pass those exams, learn the slang and some sort of poetic lines to use in essay writing. I also wanted to pick up Cantonese.

As a result of all these efforts, obviously, I would know some Chinese and Cantonese songs from the 1990s. I remember a night at a karaoke joint the year I was 18. In the big private room with the friends, I sang my heart out to alot of Sammi Cheng's songs. I was kinda upset over, well, a cute boy. Then I broke down crying and shattered into a million pieces. My friends had to hold me up, literally. The lyrics were poignant and tugged at my fragile heartstrings.

That was the night I swore off all Chinese songs (because they're all so annoyingly sappy!), Chinese karaoke and a certain type of men. That was when I decided that love (eros) will be part of my life, but it should never dominate it. At that point, husband, marriage and children went out of my priority list. Life, living, the greater environment, friends and charity became my focus. After that eventful night, I squared my shoulders and turned to Iron Maiden, Nirvana and Prodigy. Then, I was totally immersed in the wonderful world of indie rock. I've never looked back. I grew stronger, till it became difficult to date because I found it meaningless. I was good at flings, adept at games and fabulous in not committing to any sort of serious relationships. I didn't want to settle for just anyone. I wanted my Mr Perfect. If there wasn't one, I didn't care. Very few men would possess what I'm looking for in a partner. I need a partner who isn't just my intellectual equal, but someone who's just as strong and passionately reaches out to other loves in his life.

I sing Chinese and Cantonese songs way better than I can do any English song; I rarely sing now. Unless it's for some charity event or something. But for this girlfriend, if stepping into a karaoke joint would help her sort things out, I will. And I will sing all those songs that I knew. Kinda dated. Even though the songs will stir memories, they don't hurt me now. But each time the girlfriend listens to a Chinese song, it hurts her. It draws out her memories and taps on her deepest worries, fears and whatnots. For all her ang moh education, this girlfriend is quite a fan of Mandopop. Haizzz. Those lyrics will only make her feel more emo. Tsk. Every other Chinese song is about love, moon, water, heart, blah blah blah. It only encourages her to wallow deeper in her sorrow.

It pains me to see her so sad. This song is for my heartbroken girlfriend. It's all a gamble isn't it? Be strong. A man has to be your equal and also bow down at times. Always, always put yourself first. No man is worth your tears.

Bought Dresses

I think Mommy has a fabulous haul of arm candy from her 2 weeks in Paris. Together, Daddy and her will have a 160kg baggage allowance, but there's no way they can carry all that. It'll be insane. I'm going to arrange shipping for some of her stuff and have the man carry another batch back since he's going to fly home earlier than them. I bet that the shipped boxes will reach home before they do. Heh.

On her way back to London from Paris, Mommy gave me a very creative list of dress labels and asked for my clothing sizes. Tsk. I told her to stop shopping for me. She's insistently ignoring that. Her credit card has already sizzled lots in Paris for me. She has another 3 weeks in London. Obviously, she isn't quite done with Oxford Street, the New and Old Bond Streets. She's saving the man alot of work. Ha. The man is just gleefully meeting his parents for dinners when they're in London and doesn't have to bother about fulfilling my shopping list because his mommy has done all that! But I made the man stock up on bottles of our favorite shower gel from Boots. He has plenty of luggage space too.

For the easy ones, I simply flung open the wardrobe and jotted them down. Those are brainless because they're my favorites and I always know their current sizing and cut. For some, I just made a rough guess. But for the rest, like Pucci and Bally, I don't know those sizes. Anyway, bright and early this morning, after pilates and breakfast at Hediard, 3 girlfriends and I trotted off to the shops.

The danger in hitting the shops is in all the random distractions. I wandered into DKNY and promptly fell in love with many items. Clothes fit me so much better now. In this slimmer silhouette, I also seem to be able to wear a wider range of designs and patterns as compared to looking really disagreeable previously.

I tried 6 dresses in colors that I don't normally wear and in designs I wouldn't typically pick. Surprisingly, they didn't look too strange! I fit DKNY's Size 2! Nice! It's not that easy to find clothes made in fabrics or cut the way I prefer. A little boring, but hey, it works for me. That's probably why I stick to the same few labels. Staring at the mirror in the changing room, resistance was futile. Those bad girlfriends of mine babbling outside didn't help. I thought really hard and went home with these 3 pieces.

Drinks At The Office

My big boss tried to inject some fun and spontaneity into our work life by calling for 'Happy Hours' on a Friday afternoon. Since it involved alcohol and mindful of various sensitivities, there wasn't an official invitation sent to everyone. It was done through word of mouth and informal channels.

The few people behind the mini event contributed plenty of wine, juices, crackers and whatnots. They took care of setting up and cleaning up. That was lovely of them. What I really appreciated- the effort to use proper glasses instead of disposables.

You know how bad I am with wine, so I brought an easy bottle of single malt whisky- the Auchentoshan Three Wood. Unpeated, it isn't my usual choice of a drink. But since I intended to share, that would be a perfect fruity dram for beginners. The colleagues were surprised at how easy it was. Of course lah- I picked it with them in mind. The bottle has since made its rounds in the office afterhours and has won a fair number of fans! Heee.

People turned up, of course. It was a good start. I thought that in this industry, we don't know how to schmooze. But apparently, once in a while, we can.

There has been some talk of having different departments taking turns to organize 'impromptu' Friday drinks. You've no idea how tickled I am about that. Some departments are going to take this so seriously that it can become a competition just to tell the big boss that they're involved and committed. They will actually set objectives and ensure that the points of the mini-event of hitting numbers and cross-department interaction to be fulfiled. I dunno. Maybe this initiative will just die a natural death. I simply don't see the alcohol/drinks culture being a regular fixture in this organization's traits.

I'd volunteer to organize a session if my department is called upon, if I'm in town, and that's a big 'IF'. I can be competitive too. But my priorities are simpler. I only want to lay out the most amazing bar, cool chillout music, a wide range of juices (not Peel Fresh or Sunkist, goodness) and snacks (not Pringles), focusing on quality, organic ingredients and the chi chi factor. :D

A Language

For a little while today, I managed to have some quiet moments to myself to watch the rain come down. This afternoon, many commented that compared to my usual voices, I sounded very different when I get up on stage.

For someone who isn't very sociable, I sure like being an emcee a fair bit. It's an easy job. I like how it makes me think on my feet. I'm not a particularly sterling emcee. Competent enough, I suppose. I'm not very good hosting games and fun events. It's positively exhausting, especially when I'm not the bubbly-iest person or the friendliest in the room. But I can do formal nicely. Preferably at conferences when I just need to look solemn.

The one emcee job I regret missing out on was to do this forum last month. By the time I was asked to be the forum's emcee, the flights, hotels and transport in Bali had already been sorted! I wasn't going to cancel the vacation. To even think of being an emcee again, I'd have to wait till 2012- by that time, I might very well not be in this office anymore! :( What to do?!

At this forum, emcees were respectively needed to speak in English and Mandarin. It would be ideal if the emcees were effectively bilingual. It was really the chance of a lifetime. I knew I could do it, and cover for my co-emcee if necessary. Regardless of which language I take, I'd be able to understand the other almost immediately. That can be very helpful. Even more so, I wanted to tell my office that we have good Mandarin speakers around whose pronunciation, at least, can be on par with our counterparts'. I've honestly gotten very sick of hearing colleagues say that their Mandarin/Chinese isn't good enough. It can be. Try harder. It's quite tiring to speak Mandarin with the typical Singapore accent, which I have to do often to assimilate in the typical settings. My friends would know exactly what I mean because I don't put on that accent with them. When I forget and slip into my usual accent, people ask if I'm from China.

I haven't spent 12 years in school studying the language, its culture and history for nothing. I was one of those idiots who did 'Higher Chinese' for A-levels and took an additional 'General Paper' in Chinese. And I come from a home where English and Bahasa Indonesia are dominant. French was painful, but as a kid, I was supposed to have a slightly more than rudimentary grasp of it so that I could understand everything else in life. (My strange English boarding-school educated mother came up with that brilliant policy for her children.) Yes, English is the language I'm most comfortable with, eloquent and properly schooled in. By a quirk of fate, Thai is a close second. The Chinese language lags behind at third place. I don't view it as my mother tongue. I feel nothing for it. It's an unwanted label slapped onto me by virtue of the race stated in my identity card.

I'm glad I don't have children, not now, not ever. I'll not have to deal with the unfathomable depths of the system. You know that one of the reasons I don't want children is because I feel very strongly about certain social policies in this country and as long as I live here, I do not want any imaginary offspring to undergo what I had gone through. It's simply getting worse. If my imaginary kid isn't close to being a genius, she'd better have a sizeable trust fund to back her up. Well, even if I live overseas, while I might be more open to the idea, it doesn't negate the fact that I'm not interested in raising kids or negotiating the competitive path of parenthood. So there.

While I can present my brilliant opinions on it, the truth is, I don't care about the whole issue about the mother tongue weighting. All of us know it isn't just about the weighting.

About Wheelchairs

The little bear in London has fulfilled his mission and sorted out the powered wheelchairs. He has sent reports of lovely models that will meet the requirements of our old folks and physically disabled. He has been good as gold and provided reasonable quotations from 5 companies for our perusal. I thought of just getting 2 wheelchairs, although it would be much more cost-efficient to get 5. But I was worried about the potentially heavy costs of shipping.

It was just a casual call- from a friend to another. We requested for a slight discount off the usual shipping rates. Instead, the reply that came back was a total surprise. They extended an unexpectedly unstinting gesture. The company would absorb all shipping rates and asked us to consider increasing the number of wheelchairs to be shipped.

The company has supported us fabulously on a Mongolian project. That was so fun! They know that we strictly fly under the radar on a very private basis- therefore we can't offer like banners, ads, press mentions, public acknowledgments or anything like that; big-bang items that would convince big organizations to sponsor our teeny efforts and hit their KPIs on corporate social responsibilities. We don't want that slice of the pie. We work on trust, integrity and friendship. That's why we never canvass for donations. Not our style. We fund our projects entirely out of our own pockets. We do not ask for full funding for anything, not even co-funding. We ask for discounts and little favors. That was the direction we decided a decade ago and stuck by it ever since. It has worked well for us. To pull off every project, we ride heavily on individual competencies, talents and aptitude. Each time a project ends, we ask ourselves, did it really happen?! Yes, it did. We document our stuff and even though it isn't necessary, we hire auditors to vet our annual accounts, and ummm....tell us what can contribute towards our individual tax exemptions. Heeeeee.

It's all very exciting indeed. A flurry of quick emails confirmed that we now want 10 wheelchairs. Last night, I was damn pissed off with StarHub (see twitter rant) because I couldn't put in my order and do all the stuff I needed when UK is awake. It meant a 12-hr delay because it would have to wait till tonight. Anyway, 10 wheelchairs will make a nice number and we know exactly where they will go to bestow maximum benefits.

Somewhere between midnight and noon today, I'm reminded that while there're narrow-minded people, there're generous humans and organizations around. The humans within define the image of an organization. The culture and decisions are reflective of the nature of leadership in the respective companies.

Bad Service At The Marmalade Pantry

I've a love-hate relationship with The Marmalade Pantry at Ion Orchard. I go there because the food's okay and it's a very convenient meeting venue. However, the lackadaisical service and inefficient floor staff never fails to annoy me just that bit every time.

When the cafe was located at Palais Renaissance, service was good. Harried sometimes, but alright. However, in this new location at Ion, each visit to cafe is an exercise in showing guests or proving to local residents how bad our service industry can be. When we're there, we catch up with friends, so we usually close one eye to the slow service. If our drinks come fast, our food takes forever to come. Otherwise, the floor staff seem to have this thing against serving us glasses of water. Even after 20 minutes, we see no sign of any water arriving. It's often that the bill doesn't come promptly either.

On days when we're a little more demanding, the 'sorry' that we hear isn't really sincere. The tone and facial expressions tell us that the servers don't particularly care. I tiptoe into the service area and the kitchen to see staff lounging around, not doing anything despite the order chits in front of them. They can tell me that it's because they've plenty of orders, that's why the food and drinks are slow in getting to our tables. Seriously? You open a cafe, set the seating capacity and you give me this sort of crap? We've observed the staff most intently. Staff to customer ratio is fine; which means that the ordering and serving processes are simply inefficient.

I've no illusions that service at this cafe will improve. They will still get plenty of business because of their prime location. And like the suckers we are, we'll pop by. We've come close to refuting the 10% service charge because we end up getting our own plates and glasses from the kitchen. But we haven't because there'll be one or two redeeming points. So one fine day in the near future, I'm sure there'll be a breaking point and it won't be just a matter of not paying service charge. I'll simply not patronize it anymore.

Checking Out Prada

It was quite nail-biting trying to decide on a birthday present for the girlfriend. There were a couple of items I could think of that she would want. But I wasn't sure. So I pulled her into the shop to pick out something that she really liked.

While the girlfriend browsed the shelves, my attention was riveted to the limited edition bags created for the Shanghai World Expo. I hadn't been following the news on it. I vaguely remember reading some stuff about it. To see some of these bags smack in my face was quite something. These bags were hideous. They were so horrifying that I almost considered buying the a version in graduated black and grey. Goodness.

Our mouths gaped in silent amazement when the sales executive told us that the moment the shop opened for the day, many tourists snapped up the limited edition expo stuff. The girlfriend busied herself around the store and naturally selected items that were more pleasing to the eye.

We made our choices. But we had to contend with having our purchases placed in ugly paper bags. We asked for their usual plain paper bags, but the store didn't have any. Doh. At least the paper bags were prettier than the bags. Still, it was a very fruitful morning indeed.

Buying A Pair of Slippers

I like shopping early in the mornings. Less frazzling. The sales people in the shop seem to smile more. It makes the entire shopping experience rather pleasant. As we strode through the mall, my slippers chose the most opportune moment to disintegrate- upon walking into Miu Miu. The entire sole and heel broke off. What a pity! I've worn this pair of slippers for less than 15 times! That's probably why the whole shoe fell apart. The girlfriend was most tickled. I had to get a new pair of slippers stat. Ah well, the most ideal of an excuse as any to shop.

The choices this season at Bottega Veneta didn't quite sit too well with me. Something about the patterns didn't appeal. I was looking for a pair of matte gold or rose. Miu Miu and Prada didn't have any. Neither did Bally. So I had to walk into the only shop that I always laugh at- Ferragamo. I refuse to buy its flats or heels in its standard ribbons or bows. What I have, are the ones that are plain, without any bows or metal bits to identify their label. I hoped to find something palatable and suitably subtle.

The sales executive was most helpful. I managed to find a rather nice pair of slippers in a matte pastel finish that I actually liked. Of course I had to wear it immediately. The sales people helped me dump the box and the tattered old pair. Only the dust bag was needed. I was quite happy that I didn't have to settle for buying it because I was desperate. Now, I could get back to the business of checking off items on the shopping list proper.

Sorting Out Our Cars

I'm obviously still lavishing attention to the demands of my stomach. There was no way I could fit in a full omakase dinner at Tatsuya tonight, not even if it was just sushi and sashimi. I stuck to a modest portion of chirashizushi, so modest till the girls were so worried if there was anything wrong with the food. Heh.

I absolutely dislike the 2 guys who look after Goodwood Park Hotel's valet counter. Not the ones in the hotel uniform. Those in the white shirts and black pants. They are curt, and damn rude. I emphatically, do not like them. This conclusion is derived out of many bad experiences. A hotel can do way in everything, but forget that the first and last point of contact is with the valet. That will either leave a sour taste in one's mouth, or not. As much as I like Min Jiang, I'll remember the hotel for its rude valet services. I was very miffed tonight because those people at the valet counter rudely and roughly waved us off when we pulled up at the driveway. To be fair, it was surprisingly crowded at the hotel tonight. Still. It was difficult to find space and they blocked up the lane that led down the slope to Tatsuya. I was this close to getting out of the car to yell at them. But I didn't. Remind me why I refuse to use this hotel's valet service.

We skirted round and stopped. I walked up to the guys at a separate Tatsuya valet service counter. We always use these guys and park our cars here. Tonight, I trusted that they'd be able to help us. They could. They were polite, they were focused and importantly, they knew what to do. So we left our cars and let them do their job. They squeezed us in. I'm quite impressed by these 2 guys manning the valet counter outside Tatsuya. Those guys are smiley and very polite. Since our cars are usually parked within 20 steps from Tatsuya's doors, we don't mind just getting the cars on our own. The guys always apologize and thank us for doing that.

Tonight, when guys saw us step out of the restaurant, they literally ran to get our cars. They apologized profusely for neglecting us because it was a extremely busy night for them. We didn't mind. We thanked them for their help. Otherwise, we'd not have been able to park and have a nice evening at the restaurant. Only for these guys, we will speak in Mandarin. We don't know how much the valet services cost. We (the friends and the man) don't bother because each time we visit Tatsuya, we tip them S$20 per car. That should more than cover it. They work hard for their money in the sweltering heat. By now, they recognize the different cars we drive and which ones belong to the respective individual/couple. They greet us, wish us well and fulfil the expected services efficiently.

Tonight, on top of the usual S$20, we gave them extra. Do they deserve it? Yes.

No More Grilled Food Please

I must learn to be stricter about my dietary preferences when dining out in a group, or in the work context. I haven't really learnt how to say no to certain foods yet for a niggly fear of being termed as 'difficult', not that I'm not already so. At work, I haven't learnt to not apologize for my food choices.

Against my better judgment, having grilled food for 2 evenings in a row for work dinners nearly killed my digestive system. I'm become not fond of sumiyaki, kushiage, tempura and any sort of charcoal-grilled or deep-fried batter covered stuff.

The full meat dinner at Aburiya gave me a bad indigestion. I've been off meat for so long that the stomach couldn't deal with the influx of meat. A small piece of Matsusaka beef sushi would be fine, but nothing more. Or it could simply be a case of over-eating. You see lah! You both bully me. Poor impie. Luckily I dilligently chewed and spat out most of the meat. Otherwise, it'd have been even worse. The stomach felt so ill that I only had 2 glasses of sake and left the rest behind. Even a glass of whisky later didn't calm the stomach. I royally puked out the stomach contents and crawled wearily into bed at 2am, with the juices still churning. In the morning, I felt like a ton of bricks. The head was cool. The stomach felt queer. It was like a hangover, except there wasn't alcohol-induced. It was a bad hangover from too much meat. Over Skype, the friend slyly suggested, "Maybe you WERE drunk." Really? On 2 glasses of sake and a glass of whisky? No way.

Nursing a tender stomach and slightly dreading tonight's dinner, my heart completely sank when I learnt that the venue would be at Shunjuu. Oh dear. Could I just do the izakaya and not the sumiyaki?? But the choice wasn't mine to make.

Maybe because there were more people at dinner; conversation was animated, funny and interesting, so it wasn't glaringly obvious what went into my mouth. I quietly sidestepped all the meat and bacon-wrapped stuff. I singlehandedly polished off the entire blob of raw cabbage. My orders consisted raw tomatoes, cold tofu, pitan tofu. There was a nice itoyori (threadfin bream) shio which I enjoyed picking its flesh off the bones! There was plenty of beer going around. I also managed to deftly avoid that and stuck to my cold green tea.

I definitely enjoyed dinner. Back home, I rubbed my tummy. It feels okay, not too bloated. I settled into the couch and turned on 24, Season 6. My stomach is beyond thankful.

Piling On The Dhaal

Next to the food produced in the kitchens of the friends' mothers, I like the fish cutlets at Gayatri best. Give me the cutlets, scrape out the insides, add a little dhaal to the rice and it'll be a damned good meal.

We headed out for an easy lunch at Gayatri's Amoy Street outlet. We took the maid along because we figured she would like the food. Mind you, the maid knows her food. We've completely spoilt her tastebuds. Plus by now, she's a fairly good cook. I love her begedils and chilli aubergines.

This flat doesn't have young children or very elderly folks. i.e. we don't need to have the maid's company when we head out. Aside from her twice-a-month off days, weekly grocery runs and lessons, she doesn't go out of the house alot. She doesn't need to cook much either. The family eats out daily. But we're fastidious about certain etiquette and protocols at home. So she has learnt fast, adapted well and works hard. She's really rather sweet. So we try to include her when we go out for meals. Unfortunately, we can't take her out every week. We're hard pressed for time for ourselves even. When we do have some quiet moments, all we want to do is to chill at home, not rush out again. But we make an effort to take her out every other week. That's not difficult.

The maid ate so much rice, curry vegetables and dhaal. She usually doesn't take much white rice (she likes a mix of brown and white), except when it's laden with yummy curry or dhaal. Woah. She really likes it. I was very pleased to see her enjoy her meal.

Leaving Jakarta

As we left the city to get to the airport, it was inevitable that we were caught in the middle of its famous traffic jams, I wondered again, how people function in this city. Then I realized that I didn't consider this particular situation to be a traffic jam because we were, at least, at snail's pace, moving. If the vehicle didn't move and stayed still for more than 15 minutes, that would be a traffic jam.

We saw the sun set through the exhaust fumes and smog that hung low over the city. We passed by Mangga Dua again with its gigantic buildings. Mangga Dua is not as snooty or posh. But I like the area for its homey vibe. The food selections are much more exciting than the Central area. Try conquering all the malls in Mangga Dua. I guarantee you'll get lost in all of them because they're kinda inter-connected. Heh. What I haven't done, is to check out the nightlife in Mangga Dua. Think I'm too chicken to go on my own.

The colleagues and I talked about this real problem and possible solutions. How to get around the traffic jams? Any urban planner worth his salt would be able to offer multi-prong solutions. But would it work for this city? It isn't just about addressing the root of the traffic jams, we know it also involves a myriad of political considerations, social issues and business concerns. Increasing toll gantries or its prices isn't going to work. It wouldn't be as simple as widening the roads. That's another mess of legal tussle to think about. Smash the roundabouts? Relocate the capital? Shift the government offices? Move the business district elsewhere? Our lopsided frog-at-the-bottom-of-the-well views wouldn't be what the city thinks important. Whatever the solution, the powers-that-be seem to be taking a comfortable pace in trying to resolve it. And that's the way traffic jams in Jakarta will be for the next 20 years.

In Jakarta, I shrugged off the punishing Singapore mode and systems of work and eased into their systems and culture. In short, they're my hosts and we're guests. While we've certain conditions to fulfil and push for, we must also understand, accommodate and accept our hosts' way of doing things. We do not judge. We adapt and try to gently go around certain scenarios and situations as best as we can.

And I ponder, how do we create meaningful work relationships in this city without knowing the language? Without that proficiency, our relationships remain superficial, tenuous and courteous. There can't be more depth or substance. The newspapers in Jakarta regularly (if not daily) paint this not-so-fantastic image of Singapore in its various ongoing corruption trials. Well, currently, the authorities are still extremely angry with the portrayal of a facet of Bali by a Singaporean and they're getting ready to file grounds for his arrest.

I keep getting this sense that Singapore is some sort of pesky little brother, or at worst, an unwanted neighbor when the governments spar over political matters of say, defense cooperation agreements. I ask, is it because the city is insular? It doesn't need us? Or we just don't know the courtesies necessary to build a relationship with more depth? We don't have savvy political skills? Are we being too presumptuous and overbearing in various matters? Does being cosmopolitan in our outlook, policies and practices result in alienating our Southeast Asian neighbors?

Remember, the country isn't that different from China, Indonesia's sizeable domestic market and natural resources will keep it afloat. It doesn't need anyone else. Whatever it has decided to do, is perhaps, out of acknowledgement of its membership in a global community.

In The Room

After a long day of meetings and feeling grainy, it's so nice to grab a really long hot shower with the perfect water pressure. Then, there's nothing nicer than curling up on the couch in my jumpers to read with my bears next to me. Sometimes, I'd have eaten really little at dinner and a steaming cup of hot chocolate for supper would be perfect. When I took this photo, I was waiting for my hot chocolate. I was actually trying very hard to decide between yet another glass of icy cold yummy jus alpukat or hot chocolate. The latter won because the hotel promised me Valrhona, and the room was freezing.

I've a couple of weeks of The New Yorker to catch up on. It's one magazine that I refuse to subscribe to its digital edition. I like to hold a hard copy, rough it up and crumple its pages. It's fun buying it from bookshops at the airport. The articles on the daring and organized Pink Panthers, Jon Shook and Vinny Dotolo's restaurant Animal and the big fight that's looming between Apple and Amazon kept me very entertained.

I mostly travel alone. Rarely do I have room-mates. Even when it's just me in the room, I sleep fully clothed. Well, it isn't so much about the cold air-conditioning, but more of the niggling worry that I need to jump out bed in a hurry for a myriad of reasons including sudden evacuation from the hotel.

Playing With Bears

I'm not particularly sure why I didn't bother to bring shampoo, conditioner or shower gel to save some weight and space, yet bothered to stuff bears into the suitcase. I suppose they act as a good layer of cushioning, sometimes. Very squishable these animals are.

I've a very strange habit of bringing a bear along wherever I travel to. It keeps me company, kinda. It doesn't whine, doesn't talk back (not really), doesn't fuss and doesn't need much attention. The best part, housekeepers have taken to placing my bears in all sorts of cute positions. Sometimes, when I come back to the room at night after the turn-down service, I find additional furry friends sitting with my bears. Some of housekeepers really have a good sense of humor.

On this trip, apples were left on the study table to greet me upon check-in. On the second night, this bear was positioned in bed with the apples next to him. The tray of apples was placed on a tiny colored silk napkin actually, along with a little tube of chocolates which wasn't featured in this photo because I had already torn the wrapping and ate up the contents. I was extremely tickled and wrote a note of thanks to Housekeeping.

Often, these are the little gestures that will make me a loyal fan of a certain hotel. Over the years, there're many I've come to prefer, simply because they've not just given me wonderful rates, but also a good standard of hygiene and most importantly, exemplary service.

Thinking About Clutches

Walked by a little shop and turned back to look at its wares carefully. The shop is called pla and it sells the clutches that I had an eye on in Bali! But the IDR1,985,000 price tag per clutch in this fancy mall threw me off. It's made of snakeskin though. Not the most beautifully sewn. The stitching isn't meticulous. The finishing is fairly raw. But there's a certain sort of rustic charm to it.

These clutches are essentially the same ones in that store in Ubud, except that those bags didn't carry a tag and went for IDR250,000 each. With a tag sewn on and plonked into a fancy mall in Jakarta, the price has increased ten-fold. Ah well. Quite typical I guess. (No need to compare to shopping in China! I've heard plenty of those stories from the girlfriends!) When we're tourists, there's no telling of the true cost of a product we like unless we happen to chance upon it elsewhere first. Shopping on vacations and work trips is always a little unwise- you're pressed for time and you need to make a snap decision which might not be the best situation. One might end up paying an exorbitant price for something that could be procured for much less. It boils down to how much I like an item versus how much I'm prepared to pay for it without the benefit of prior information or details.

The only thing in its favor- pla is an Indonesian label. I'm partial towards a country's locally-produced labels. The shop is too conveniently located. And I could also buy online and have it delivered to my hotel. If I still think about it tomorrow, I might just cave and grab one clutch for a memento.

I Love Salted Eggs + Their Yolk

At a random cafe in one of those giant malls when we hopped in for lunch, I was very very taken by this jagung goreng dengan telur asin. Actually, my new favorite things are these kepiting and udang fried in salted egg yolk. They're so tasty. Yummzzz. I'm not so interested in the actual meat, but more focused on the salted egg yolk.

Since I tried it once earlier this year during the Chinese New Year period in a Chinese coffeeshop zi char version of prawns in salted egg yolk, I was totally in love with that egg yolk thing. The first time I've ever had it in my life. That time, I literally sucked the salt off the prawns, leaving the prawns uneaten and untouched, kinda. The meat within holds no attraction. It's the fried layer above that contains all the gems!

Don't even ask about the calories. I didn't bother. I just scooped up all the golden corn niblets and ate them all up. I probably finished like half the plate, leaving very little for the colleagues whom I decided shouldn't be eating such high cholesterol thingies. Ha.