Spoilt, Rotten

When I had no appetite at dinner and disappeared into the room, I had no idea that the helper would come knocking on the door with food on the tray. She reasoned, "Two bites also good." She had decided to cook noodles with fish chunks and a touch of chilli, something she learnt off the recipes in the books. It was quite tasty. I finished everything on the plate. She gave me the usual bits of fruit, but added more of the longans and kiwis which I love rather than the papayas and rambutans.

Honestly, I'm rather spoilt on matters pertaining the domestic front. Growing up, I never had to do any household chores unless I felt like 'playing'. The maids sorted out everything. During the years I lived on my own, the part-time cleaners came in 4 times a week, resulting in no other cleaning necessary since I don't cook at all. I didn't even bother drinking water from a glass. I simply stuck to bottles so that I didn't have to wash them. I still do that now. Hahahaaa. I've never shown interest or bothered to cook, sew or acquire any sort of womanly skills. Instead, I had tons of fun with DIY furniture kits. By the way, I'm the one who fixes taps, lightbulbs, Ikea DIY cabinets/shelves and watnots at home, not the man.

Now, the man's mom spoils me rotten in every way. She makes sure the vitamins, food, the bird's nest are properly set out according to the schedule, helps to arrange errands and whatnots. Then there's the current helper who's ever so obliging and sweet. There's no reason to even bother sewing a button that has fallen off on a shirt or make the bed in the mornings. Clothes that are fragile head straight to the dry cleaners. While I put soiled clothes into the laundry bags, I'm guilty of just leaving them on the floor at times. Till today, I'm not sure I can operate the washing machine or the dryer without a manual. I don't even know what washing powder we use at home.

I've come to be rather fond of the helper. She schools me in academic Bahasa and writes out notes for me, just in case I need them on trips or events. When I come across phrases in the news articles I don't get, she explains the phrases and the concepts thoroughly. Once, I asked her to translate 'governance and accountability', and she did it unblinkingly. Respect! She's going off on her Hari Raya holidays for 6 weeks. It's such a well-deserved break for her. I'm just so nervous at how I'm going to cope without her! While I'll make do with part-time cleaners, meals at restaurants and the flat whites from the cafes, it's just not the same because she's the only one who's able to brew a cup of flat white and the biluochun in the exact proportions I like. :(

Fetching The Bags Home

Sent in these 2 bags to to be restored to its original brilliance. Both bags are each 23 years old and can't be cleaned anymore. Their colors have faded through the usual wear and tear. So the alternative is to have them re-dyed. The shop had to find the exact shade of colors to dye them properly. It was a 5-month wait for these 2 bags to come back.

Other bags have been sent in for cleaning, regular upkeep and watnots. But this is the first time any bag has been sent in for a dye process. The shop has done a great job. I'd say that it's almost lovingly restored. It's quite amazing how they also cleaned and carefully dyed the portion weaved into the metal chains. Very thorough, very nice. I'm quite impressed. Don't be fooled by the blueish tints on the bags in the photo. They're shadows reflecting the blue curtains behind. The restored colors are true and even.

A quarter of the man's mom and my bags are well worn, but the quality of the older bags remains shiningly clear through 2 decades, its inner pockets remained pristine and well-maintained. We store our bags in a controlled environment, so given the right treatment, our bags should last a long while; many have shown themselves to endure the years in a surprisingly good condition.

Many 2.55s have been sold off at charity auctions simply because some of the designs are not quite to my taste now. Variations in the colors I like are kept. After all, my first 2.55 (brand new along with the experience of buying it in Paris and all mine) landed on my lap at 16 years old and I'm nostalgic about it. I'm partial to certain brands, but it doesn't mean I blindly buy their offerings. Often, seasonal bags can be fairly horrendous on the arm. I'm not fond of chasing after IT bags. I'll consider acquiring iconic bags. :p The housekeeping of the bag cabinet for the past 3 months means that space has been freed up for ummm.....additional pieces of arm candy.

It Isn't Inconvenient

Upon arrival at Changi Airport, we were subjected to another security screening through the gantry and x-ray checks. It was a little unusual. But whatever. I never question security checks at airports, much less in my own country. This is about the only time I strip off shoes, belts, watches and jackets with nary a protest when asked to do so.

After this Caucasian man cleared it, he went up to two hapless security guards and shouted at them, "Why do you always subject this flight to security checks? Do you think we're idiots or terrorists?!" He was very very unhappy. He was ranting for the next few minutes. I thought he was going to deck the security guards. I've been told that this night flight from Bangkok is always subject to extra security screenings. Friends said that this flight which is scheduled to land at 9.55 pm, always lands slightly earlier at 9.35 pm or so. They secretly assume that the pilot has been told to fly faster to allow time for these additional screenings without too much of an inconvenience to most passengers.

(Indeed, at baggage claim, passengers were informed that retrieval was delayed as the checked-in luggage was also subjected to extra security screenings back-end.)

I overheard part of a rather exasperated reply from the 2 security guys- "Our bosses told us to do this, so we have to. What do you expect us to do about it?" Oh dear, I wasn't really expecting such a reply, even from the viewpoint of a bystander. For a while, I wondered if I should interfere, as a Singaporean. But what the hell, it isn't my job to do that. So I walked on. Obviously, the irate man in question took this flight rather regularly and had been held up before. He would be a regular to Singapore and should not be surprised by the vigilant security checks. I kinda hope they would arrest him or something. What an absolutely disagreeable and unpleasant man. There is no fooling around here and our airport police is totally solemn about what they do. As a traveler and a Singaporean, I heartily support such checks because while inconvenient and troublesome, they bring a peace of mind.

Imagine my slight annoyance, when this Caucasian man strode straight to the arrival hall's automated gantry clearance for Singaporeans, Permanent Residents and Employment/Work Permit/Dependant Pass Holders. My single thought, "Really, you should have known better."

Checking Out The Local Eats

When I came back to the hotel after breakfast, I realized the other work associates were gathered at the lobby for a jaunt out to the Morning Market (Talaat Sao) and the adjacent mall. I followed them. It wasn't so much of the shopping I was interested in. I wanted to see the sights again. Anything would have been better than staying in the hotel. The malls were surprisingly alive with alot of people (not tourists) and a fair variety of goods on sale.

While the work colleague went off to shop for the traditional Lao jackets, I meandered to the food court to look at the offerings. So colorful! Of course the ventilation was horrible. The oils and the smoke got to my eyes after a while. But before they did, it was very fun to walk around the stalls and wonder what I could possibly eat from here. A lot of choices of noodle soup and salads for picks.

Right outside the food court, there was a stall selling these butter cake-thingies. It smelt so good! It was something I've eaten as a kid, but I've no idea what this is called. It's just a butter-flour mixture waffle-like thing. The stall owner was making it there and then. Piping hot! I wasn't exactly tempted to buy a pack to eat it. It was the heady smell of baking that was quite awesome!

A Morning To Myself

On the one free morning in the schedule, it didn't seem prudent to sleep in. There was plenty of time to do exciting stuff that didn't involve paperwork. The hotel breakfast, while decent, was a little sterile and almost boring. I ditched it and went out to find something else to eat and breathe in some fresh air instead of just staying in till it was time to head to the airport. The shoes weren't bothersome. I could still walk in them and figured that the plastic could hold for a bit.

There was this silver jewelry shop that all the ladies raved about and showed off their purchases at dinner the night before. My colleague and I didn't go on that trip. After the day's meetings, we scooted off to the room to clear our emails. I thought about checking out that particular silver shop, but decided it wasn't worth the effort.

I grabbed a hotel car and went to the National Museum. I had missed out on that the last round because the hosts thought it more appropriate to take us to other museums. The National Museum seemed alot like this huge messy, haphazard office that reminded you of its original usage as the office of the police commissioner, the photos on the wall re-told the country's struggle against its colonial masters and some cultural depictions and artifacts when it was known as the Lao Kingdom of Lan Xang.

My early morning jaunt was concluded with a breakfast of pastries at one of the expat cafes in the town area near the Nam Phou Fountain, watching the world go by in a whirl of accents, colors and business. Vientiane isn't exactly the sleepiest of towns anymore. It's waking up slowly, but surely. This is the sort of solitude I truly enjoy on a work trip.

River Weed & Sticky Rice

Have I already said it? Minus the meats, I enjoy Laotian food very much. The vegetables are juicy and lovely. Due to the country's slower rate of development, pesticides haven't invaded the agricultural lands in a huge way. The vegetables are as fresh as they come. I love those tomatoes and lettuce.

The dinners also featured a lot of sticky rice in its various versions. I loved them all. There was white and black sticky rice in a bamboo roll. I picked the black roll which also had bits of mushrooms in it. It was served along with river shrimp and river weed. I loved this combination so much that it was my main for dinner.

This is definitely NOT seaweed or nori. The dried river weed is called khai peen. It has a distinctly murky smell. But when dried and treated this way with seasame seeds and deep frying, it's fairly salty tasty. I'm sure that it will go perfectly with a cold glass of Beer Lao dark. A pity I didn't dare to ask for beer. :p Water would have to do.

What Useless Shoes

Since the programme schedule doesn't seem to indicate any sort of free time, I gave up on naughty ideas to walk around the city. So, I thought I was being smart by bringing and wearing just ONE pair of shoes.

Before the trip, I checked out the hotel and saw that it was pretty enough and didn't even bother to squeeze in a pair of bathing slippers. It is nice. There's a rather proper set of room slippers provided.

These black flats match everything. They can go formal or casual. I'm not interested in wearing pretty shoes. I'm here to do a job and not overly concerned about fashion. The flats are cheap and comfortable. It could be thrown away after the trip. No sweat. Or so I thought. And this is the FIRST and ONE time I bring only 1 pair of shoes on a work trip, well knowing that I don't have easy access to a mall to get another. I win.

I found some time to go run around in the city. Not literally of course, but quite a bit of a trek. The whole business of perspiration is quite welcome after staying in an air-conditioned room for 8 hours a day. What I didn't bargain for, is for the heels to disintegrate after 3 days. I was quite flabbergasted to discover it this evening. The corner cobbler couldn't put on a new sole immediately. He said to leave it overnight and he would have it ready the next day. Well, too bad that I only have this ONE pair of shoes. If I didn't have a dinner to attend, I would have just walked back barefoot and wore bunny slippers around or something. The cobbler sold men's shoes. Ah well. The other shops sold dumb-dumb looking rubber flip flops. No point.

Luckily these shoes are the flat sort and not the 2-inch heels I normally take along on trips. I'm heading to Bangkok tomorrow night and a pair of shoes will be waiting for me upon arrival at the airport. Meanwhile, I think the plastic parts can hold out for tomorrow. I'll just have to walk gingerly.

I HATE MURPHY. He must think this is very funny. Hmmmmpf.

Our Little Red Dot

As a guest, I'm very much at ease in Vientiane. I like the food and the generosity of the people whom I've met so far. I enjoy their stories, perspectives and conversation. There's so much to learn on these trips which I otherwise won't see as a normal tourist.

At these work meetings, I truly appreciate how a stronger command of languages could gently ease some of the barriers and baggages that our countries carry in the nature of politics. We could set those aside and genuinely try to understand one another better. We'll not agree on some issues, but we could try to 'get' where the other is coming from.

The main language used is English, of course. But to be able to speak a smattering or at least adequately, a second or third language is priceless. By now, I'm acquainted with my counterparts, but at the start, we were all strangers and it was difficult to carry on an awkward conversation in English at tea or lunch. We can, but it's just....lacking in depth. The last I want to do is to drive home any pre-conceptions or impressions of Singaporeans the counterparts might already have.

Understanding Bahasa (but terrible with the spoken) when our immediate neighbors speak it, clue me in on so many complexities across all levels. Being able to converse in Thai fluently, granted me consideration from my hosts in Vientiane and brought me closer to my Thai counterparts. I can't do Cambodian or Vietnamese beyond the level of greetings, food and directions, but it's enough to break the ice. Alternatively, depending on the age group and luck, I can do rather passable French or Mandarin to both Cambodians and Vietnamese. A pity about Burmese and Tagalog.

At a dinner, as always, we were made to sing a song. Again, we were at a complete loss as to what song to sing. The band, using classical traditional Lao musical instruments, obviously knew all the 'famous' songs of the region and played them well as the counterparts took the microphone. Each country had a noticeable song, i.e. Bengawan Solo, Rasa Sayang, Loy Krathong, etc. When it came to our turn, I was like, shit. The emcee was like, "Just sing! The band will follow!" Seriously? Die lah. Confirm they couldn't do all the songs that rushed to the mind in panic. I wanted to sing Kit Chan's 'Home'. But nobody would know it! I didn't know enough of Chan Mali Chan or Geylang Si Paku Geylang or Di Tanjung Katong; I didn't want to sing those anyway, lest I be embroiled in some battle about copyrights and ownership. I didn't know any other English songs that were non-offensive. I bet the band didn't know how to play John Mayer stuff, not that I could sing it! So like all those Singaporeans who have sung before us at these platforms and meetings, we- 2 Singaporeans, reluctantly siddled to the stage to belt out Teresa Teng's '月亮代表我的心' (The Moon Represents My Heart). *cue poker face

And so, this is my two cents' worth of one facet of the unique geo-political position of Singapore.

Being Friendly

You know I'm not the most sociable person. But on this trip, I must be, or at least come across as warm, engaging and friendly because I reflect my job. My opinions aren't necessarily mine. Words said are meant to be for common interest and in line with standard protocol. But the familiar faces in the meeting room also mean that I can smile alot more than usual.

I appreciate the relationships and links built up through the recent years. I'd have loved to nurture them a little more and see where they go. Any new partnership we crave isn't going to happen overnight or even in a matter of a year or two. It's based on trust, interpersonal relations and how comfortable we are in picking up the phone to speak with each other. I'm a little wistful at not being able to push through the completion of many exciting projects. Oh well. The cycle of work drones churns. It doesn't matter who the human is, so long there is a human.

I haven't gone out much. Not exactly hitting up cabin fever yet. I do have a rather noisy bear to talk to. :p I'm a hurry to churn out my notes, file them and do some housekeeping on the laptop. Not very inclined to go out for a bit of a stroll. Our hosts have arranged lunches and dinners which means that I'm mostly stuck within a building. Fine by me. I'm not hot about sneaking out at night in Vientiane where its bars about women are not for women.

Another Quaint Room

Upon arrival at the hotel, I was glad that the staff ushered us through a really quick check-in process. It helped to keep us calm after a long day of travelling. Well, not that tiring, but it was time spent on the plane and airline lounges twiddling thumbs. The upside of travelling economy this time- the planes weren't carrying a full load of passengers. I had plenty of empty seats next to me on both legs of the flights to Vientiane.

Obviously airplane food was horrendous and at this hour, I could only order food from the room service menu, which was better than nothing. Once I sorted that out, I got down to the business of checking out the surroundings, the staircases, etc and then back to the room to unpack and making sure the wifi was working fine as they had no option of cable access, which usually works better in terms of stability. The wifi signal drops every now and then. Annoying.

After the initial approval at the state of the room, again, I had a little bit of a shock when I saw the bathroom. From the angle, there seemed to be only a dreaded bathtub. But when I poked my head around the door to the left, I was very relieved to see a shower cubicle. Whew.

I brought only a cabin trolley on this trip. Gifts for my counterparts were all merrily stuffed within. Hey, we're all travelling, I'd assume that all of us would have brought nifty handy gifts instead of cumbersome and heavy items. Heavy isn't so bad. I just don't want to deal with a large and unwieldy painting or something.

FORGEDDIT. NO WAY.

I've firmly put my foot down on any ideas that the pregnant women in my team have about travelling. It's got nothing to do with productivity, effectiveness or efficiency. When we travel, there're so many risks we face, the known and the unknown, not to mention the situations that could just crop up suddenly which will need mitigation. That is a gamble we normally take. While it can be a truckload of laughter and fun, it's often stressful and harried. But where pregnancy is concerned, that is a risk I'm neither willing to take nor bet on the mom-to-be's utmost pink of health.

Well, currently we've alot of pregnant ladies in the team. 2 said they're perfectly fine to travel. I gave them this death-stare and pulled rank. "No way. Fight me to get clearance." By that, I mean I want a full breakdown of their recent medical report released by their ObGyn and explicit medical clearance for flying which must include the consequences of stress-related travel, and finally, written approval from our biggest boss. I don't think they will over-ride my decision on that. They're too tired, green and puky to argue with me. Hahahah.

It's just an issue that I believe in very strongly. I don't care if they think it's okay to do so- sure they can sort out their babymoons and if they have the time, throw in 2 more personal vacations. But I do not want them to do a single work trip. Why risk increasing the chance of a miscarriage that perhaps could have been avoided and in our portfolio of countries, should an emergency arise, there is danger in the lack of sufficient medical facilities.

We're running on a very tight schedule and lean resources for the next 4 months. If it means I've to do all the travelling, so be it. Not a big deal. I like that. I thrive on it. Except it isn't exactly 'strategic' for me to travel when serving out the notice period. (These trips are seen as opportunities and should be given to others in the department.) I'd rather shift and spread around resources and ask for help than to even consider having these pregnant women on the team to travel. That is not an option at all.

Nobody has said it, but if my direct bosses thinks it's okay to send pregnant women on work trips, I will remind them that it's on their heads if anything should happen, and make them grant an approval in black and white, with full admission that they're aware of the pregnancy and still authorizing the trip. Putting things in writing, can be, well, off-putting, for alot of people. There're certain things which are beyond our control. For those that are within mine, I'll push for it. If I truly believe in it, I'll splash the brain cells around, perhaps still dis-regard the consequences, and go ahead to do what I believe should be done.

I'm not supportive of pregnant women travelling on work trips. No no no. You girls can put that thought firmly out of your minds. So sue me for discrimination on these reasons, or for simply being dramatic.

Home For Dinner

Since we went to the butchers and all on Sunday for the week's groceries, obviously the man went the whole hog and bought alot of things off the shelves. In addition to the main point of procuring duck breasts, he also picked up a slab of beef cheek.

There was nothing to do with a beef cheek but to eat it braised. We opened a bottle of wine to sort out the sauce. It was an uncomplicated cabernet saugvinon, something that we've forgotten about, but still smelt and tasted fine. 2 hours of slow cooking in the oven turned the meat really tender. It wasn't meant to be eaten immediately. It headed into the fridge to let the flavors thicken for the next day's dinner.

It's a cold evening that doesn't need any air-conditioning. The best sort for a stew and soup. The beef cheek was brought out and served with sides of carrots and roasted pumpkins. The man's parents really enjoyed the meat in the tangy dish, perfect with a dollop of pilaf. The cute little cubes of roasted pumpkins were so sweet till they could almost pass for dessert. I love the piping yong tau foo soup. My bowl was special- it was full of tofu and fishballs!

Twice A Night Display This Weekend

Our skyline is still so pretty. But I've definitely lost that sense of wonder for fireworks.

Counting My Blessings

I enjoyed the work lunch at Sabai Restaurant. The restaurant wasn't packed and service was fast during that 2 hours. Food was decent too. The hosts were gracious and I was able to speak on topics beyond the pleasantries. After all, Thailand's finest universities drilled the nuances of the language into me. I couldn't show a poorer grasp of the language at this setting! However, as a courtesy to other guests, we mainly kept to English.

It was all very nice. As most know by now, come December, I'm leaving a job that I love deeply. I'm very flattered by the counter-offer, touched and torn all at once. But it doesn't make sense for me to switch to a job scope that I'm not really keen on, not when I've honed my competencies to a particular set of skills. Since the letter's been submitted, it ought to be kept as that. If I stay on, it will be for the wrong reasons.

Perhaps I would continue doing what I do at another organization. Perhaps not. I don't know. Since the day resignation was tendered, I've been feeling somewhat refreshed. Putting my decision onto paper has taken a huge weight off the shoulders and lightened the heart. Counting all my blessings and cherishing every moment on the job between now and December. I'll miss this absolutely challenging job and my fabulous colleagues so so much. 

Sticky Date Pudding

The girlfriend's really sneaky. Before she hopped onto the plane home, she arranged for delivery of a sleek slab of sticky date pudding. We couldn't say no! What an awesome gift! A pity there is no way to make it last till she flies in again in a couple of months.

It's amazing- she's got the sugar sweetness perfectly portioned. We know she has a sweet tooth, so she bakes all these versions to her taste. She knows that we don't take too sweet stuff, so she then manages to decrease the sugar for the desserts she gifts to us. We're absolutely spoilt.

We love homemade dessert. Sticky date pudding and vanilla bean ice-cream. A lethal combination. We didn't bother to order dessert after dinner. It was a much better idea to come home and have sticky date pudding. We still had 4 squares of chocolate fudge cake (also made by the girlfriend) left from 2 weeks ago! Heh. We're VERY prudent. So same thing tonight, we had to be very disciplined and rationed out tiny bits to share.

Lunch With The Girlfriend's Father

The girlfriend's father invited us out to lunch at Taste Paradise Ion, along with a bunch her girlfriends + partner + husband + Baby E! I don't see this group of people as often I'd have liked. Each time we meet, I totally love the ruckus we make, the conversation and the crap we spew.

I give you our word of the day- 'ungrateful'. We've used it in all ways possible over the weekend. I think, we 'young people' are more angsty, grouchy and grumbl-y than older people. Heh. I wonder how the girlfriend's father can tahan our nonsense!

Baby E is 2.5 months old and she's one of those babies who's dainty most of the time and seems fairly adept to humans and their silly voices. She has a stated preference for Bach on the speakers through her iPod. Well done baby! We want to blow your mind with baby Belle & Sebastian and Radiohead. After all, someone else wants to buy Baby E band tees and onesies from Brighton!

I did a double take at the bottle of Macallan 25 y.o that was waiting for us in the corner. The girlfriend's father seriously spoils us, or the man rather. He knows how much the man loves single malts and each time, he will happily bring a bottle to surprise him. The man is very fond of the girlfriend's father that way.

There was so much to eat! The soup of something and something was excellent. Like the usual, I only drink the soup and not eat the ingredients within. There was this carrot cake in XO sauce that was really quite tasty. Alot of carbs! Alot of yummy items! Lunch was so satisfying and filling that the man and I had to skip dinner.

Chris Cope At TAB

Such an unassuming dude. He's a really nice guy. While the friends have caught his gigs twice over the week, I didn't manage to do so till tonight. We didn't hit the launch party last night. That wouldn't be our scene. And we were really not hot about Steve Appleton who did an impromptu set. To us, it'd be unpleasing commercial pop which might just bring in the crowds.

The group gathered for a drink, some good music and to welcome new friends who just moved to Singapore, who umm....also obviously didn't give a hoot about YOG. We dissed Sean Kingston (a model to young atheletes. Seriously? In a country with hospitals who ain't supportive about overweight doctors?) and all about YOG. I don't even know why we bother when no YOG official ambassadors bother to turn up. Somebody measure the output and outcome versus our inflated budget of S$300 million because the Committee of humans underestimated the expenses. While it's great for the atheletes and perhaps our Singapore sporting scene, I don't give a shit about YOG. Sports is good, but a sporting event is not altruistic.

We like Chris Cope's laidback style. The friends swore I would like his kind of music. Well, I've not exactly heard Chris Cope proper. I vaguely recall Eight. So after a night, yes, he didn't exactly blaze the blues, but his voice and phrasing are in a way, very John Mayer-ish. Except John Mayer doesn't use a looper. Heeee.

He was trying to plop a bass line on the Octave pedal. We watched him frown a little. Then the boys figured the pedal ran out of batteries. Ah well. He covered 'Sweet Dreams' and that didn't affect the song. Chris Cope covered 'Don't Worry, Be Happy' and sneakily inserted in the line 'drink whisky!' I know where that came from, and I'm thrilled that he likes the Bowmore port-matured 16 y.o too. :D

Parties & Whatnots

The man is very clever. He has deduced that I've no interest in attending events as a 'partner' or '+ 1' unless I've a personal stake in it. He has begun to sift out what gigs and concerts I die die must attend, those I will not and all the others in the middle. Heh. For example, liking Muse and Smashing Pumpkins does not equate to wanting to stand in the heat and using porta-loos for hours at Fort Canning. Same goes for social events. Weddings- please don't bother asking- his friend's wedding is entirely his business, nothing to do with me. His office parties, I'll whine and ASK to tag along because they're always freaking fun, blare great music and possess this fabulous sense of humor.

I glanced at the (non-wedding) invitation the man was reading and raised my eyebrows at "Tea" and "Dress code: Formal." We're both known to not turn up at events because of organizers imposing a strait-laced dress code. Why do people still bother inviting us if they even slightly suspect that we're not going. The man's kinder- he does attend some weddings in a suit. I can't be bothered. In the first place, I don't attend weddings unless they're my close friends, and those, most certainly would require a fun dress code.

We've little interest in schmoozing, name-dropping or anything to that tune of "What are you doing now?", "What's happening in your life now?" If you don't know what's been happening in my life for the past 3 years (beyond the blog and twitter), you're obviously not a friend.

I'm a party-pooper. No no no to fancy dress and themed parties. If the dress code demands for more effort on my part, of course I'll say screw it. I'm not fun like that. We're not into chi-chi tea parties nor any sort of society galas, luncheons and tea. (Whisky dinners not included in this definition.) It's just not our kinda thang.

I know I know. The friends said that Singaporeans generally don't dress well and like me, they prefer to be in flip flops all the time. So the dress codes ensure (or enforce) that people would at least make some effort. They might not look overly glamorous, but at least they will be properly dressed. Seriously? Like this one ah?

So back to this particular invitation for tea. It promises an afternoon of sitting in a circle of what I term as a 'mutual admiration club'. The man typed out an email in reply. We were both like, 'we regretfully decline your gracious invitation'.

Lunch and A Light Day

I haven't had a chance to pop into E-Sarn since it moved out of Sixth Avenue. It has kinda fallen off the radar till someone mentioned it that day. We rounded up a lunch group and trooped to an outlet for a yummy meal.

Plenty to eat and lots to chat about. It was a surprisingly easy day at work and it felt so much more relaxed to be able to stay out of the office for afternoon and work from home or some cafe or bar or something. Who cares where as long as I'm on the email sorting out work stuff. Days like this ought to be cherished. Come October, there would be a flood of projects to bury me up to the eyebrows.

Look what brightened the lunch date. Girls in stripes! And another in happy purple. We had a guy at the table too, but guys wear boring stuff. :p But I seem to remember that he was in light pink stripes! Don't bother asking what I wore- what else, black solids. It was a nice long lunch. We had time for coffee and dessert. I was thrilled to receive a bag of Monmouth beans! One can never have enough beans from Monmouth to pile up in the pantry at home. Once you taste the beauty of freshly ground coffee, you'll never go back to powder or instant.

I had another meeting to go to and caught a ride. On the way out, the friend pointed out a building, "My office. Mordor." I cackled. In the swirling grey, looming storm and dreariness, it looked appropriately depressing. Heh. The rain could have continued all afternoon. I didn't particularly care. I'm happy today.

Trying Out Parkour

My estate has plenty of railings, staircases, slopes and corners. I've given them a onceover. The other day, I gingerly hopped and leapt over a couple of them just to test out the speed needed, the strength of the push and calculated distances. Importantly, I don't want to break any nails or bones. So I've circled the estate to do that a couple of times over the last couple of months.

The training I've had are all put to the test. Flexibility, nimble limbs and agility. I lack strength. So I made it up by gradually increasing the intake of carbs these couple of months. I've lost the weight and flab, but I need to build muscles and grow the strength required for parkour.

I conclude that parkour is thoroughly exhausting. I don't do any strange flips until I'm familiar with the landing distance and firmness of the ground. Hey, I'm not running for my life! There isn't a need to take any sort of calculated risks. The concept of parkour is just so appealing. Those videos on youtube are absolutely inspiring. Doing this boosts my confidence when I'm in a strange country, knowing that I can quite effectively run away from a possibly dangerous situation. Who wants to fight when one has the option of running away?!

Tonight, I increased the speed. I wasn't really looking for timing. I just didn't want to fall and simply enjoy the thrill of clearing a hurdle. By now, the railings and ledges are pretty familiar already. I wear the ugly but very utilitarian 5-toed Vibrams to do this. They're perfect.

By and by, no thanks to the security cameras put up around the estate, a security guard stopped me when I landed after a jump and asked if I was okay. "Are you okay? Are you running away from something?" I caught my breath and replied, "Oh no! Exercising." I grabbed another railing and hopped over it. I said, "Bye!"

He called out a final question which floored me into a fit of giggles. "Don't break anything! Are your parents home?" Oh my gawwd, he thought I'm a teenager or something! I simply waved at him and jogged away. Hehehehe. Luckily I'm very scared of heights and haven't started scaling walls or jumping from balconies. Trust me, that is very attractive. What a skill. (Sorry, got distracted by thinking of how Evelyn Salt scaled that external wall of her apartment. Now you see why I like Salt? Nothing to do with the plot.) Now, I don't think it's a wise idea to try hoping up balconies and whatnots. My ground floor neighbors are rather touchy and might just report me to the police even though their balconies are so easily accessible by any other resident in the estate.

National Day

I made time to turn on the tv to watch Royston Tan's 'Old Places'. It really stirred up alot of memories. And I realized, alot of those memories had to do with my grandparents, not of my parents. The parents were busy climbing fast and furious up the corporate ladder, products of the system which told graduates to marry graduates and when they had children, 'Stop At Two'. With a hot chocolate in hand, I was reminded of playgrounds, swimming pools and places that my grandparents used to take me when I was a kid.

My grandfather must be the most educated fishmonger in the wet market. He spoke and wrote English, Japanese, Chinese (Mandarin), Bahasa Indonesia and Cantonese fluently. I definitely inherited his strength and aptitude for languages. He migrated to Singapore to run away from the Second Sino-Japanese War when it severely tested his loyalties, only to be thrown into another turbulent World War II in Singapore and lived through a strange and torturous period known as Syonan-To. He was a valued translator during the war and those memories, brought him alot of pain. The choice of a non-Chinese wife brought him alot of angst and ostracization within the very traditional community which pointed fingers and asked why no member of his family died in the 3 years and 8 months of Occupation. All he understood of the society then were racism, harsh judgment and criticism. In switching his trade to being a fishmonger, he probably found some relief in the simple joys of menial labor. The perks- I grew up on the best and freshest fish which nurtured my tastebuds for fine sushi and sashimi.

My grandfather believed in the politicians' vision of Singapore. He revelled in being Singaporean. He celebrated 1965. He firmly believed that it liberated him from alot of personal troubles. He had faith in the system and supported everything the government did because he saw how strong leaders wrought a fledging nation from debris and discord, bringing it to a level where there is plenty to be proud of. Yes, I don't disagree, but I feel strongly, that in terms of politics, we should be looking forward to evolve, not re-hashing history to scare little children. Economic rewards aren't enough anymore. If the electorate has matured, then the government must flow with it. The paternalistic approach does not work on a generation of younglings who have ironically flown far and wide. You cannot imagine the hours of debate I had with him as a young imp. He never bent my political opinions to his, except expressing regrets that I could not understand the situation and circumstances of those period of turbulence and cautioned about the fragility of racial harmony.

I do not like to celebrate National Day with those modern crap now that faintly reeks of political agenda. I'd like to shape my own opinions about everything and not accept what I have been blindly told. My family didn't bring me up by telling me what to do. They brought me up to question and search out what it is that I love and decide what it is that I have to do. I have not been taught to follow social norms. They have given me the luxury to define my passions in life and not tie the iron ball of filial piety to my ankle in order to bestow the freedom to choose my direction in life.

This film 'Old Places', celebrates National Day in a way that I understand. Warmth and little heartaches welled up in the various scenes that flashed across the tv screen. The film celebrates the Singapore I love. In this way. Not that. There was a period in my life when I proudly waved the flag and believed in standing up for Singapore. That resolve has weakened, and I say, don't count on me, Singapore, because the commitment it would necessitate, contain very different connotations now.

To Do Uni Pasta!

While Cold Storage meets our needs for fresh produce and its online services deliver the rest of the required household products, we also hop into Meidi-Ya on a weekly basis to stock up on the other supplies.

Today, we had stuff to do and headed to Meidi-ya later than usual. The shopping cart was chockful of other groceries and the shopping list was more or less checked off. However, we were a little disappointed that there was only one box of uni left; not much of a choice there. The man was going to cook uni pasta for dinner and he was quite fixated on doing so. Luckily, the one box left was decent enough. It was still fresh at least. The man stared at it for really long time and scooped it to the check-out.

He was determined to cook the uni pasta. I must say he's been quite successful in re-creating Otto's version. Of course it doesn't quite taste the same, but it's a similar, non-creamy tasty sort of pasta I don't mind at all. Light and refreshing, this pasta is quite the winner.

Belle & Sebastian At The Esplanade

Finally Belle & Sebastian have come to Singapore. I can die contented now. They took me through the almost fun uni days and months of hopping around the various cities after graduation. Their songs accompanied me through the good times and the bad.

40 minutes before the gig, I abandoned the friends, food and drinks at Barossa and ran to the merchandise booth to queue up just so that I would be in time to buy the tees and totes. Yah, I know, just call me groupie. They had pretty things! I bought LOTS to share with the friends!

I bobbed and danced as the familiar tunes washed over the concert hall. I was a very happy imp during 'Funny Little Frog', 'If You Are Feeling Sinister' and 'The Fox In The Snow'. The man was disappointed that they didn't play 'Like Dylan In The Movies' (which they played in Jakarta!) and 'Me and The Major'. They covered the easy crowd interactive new track 'I'm Not Living In The Real World'.

Stuart Murdoch and Stevie Jackson are still as hilarious as ever, maybe better now. The band had an easy, casual vibe and totally connected with the audience. It was a sold-out gig where everyone danced. Awesome. I frowned a little at the display of the Singapore flag towards the end. It was a good PR move, but thank goodness they didn't linger too long over it or play an extended version of the birthday song.

So many friends went to the gig! Such fun catching up. Well, almost the entire world was there anyway! I mean, this IS Belle & Sebastian. How could you NOT be there?! It was a huge party. Everyone stood up throughout! Yay! Such a delightful evening. A wonderful 100 minutes. I skipped out of the hall with a silly grin plastered on my face.

Angie Mattson At TAB

I refuse to think about work this weekend. It can jolly well wait. I've more exciting things to do, like living my life. Hell, it was depressing to reach home, open the wardrobe and realized that there was no inspiration as to what to wear for dinner and drinks. The mind was a complete blank! In the end, I went with tee and jeans. Easy.

I couldn't muster up the time nor energy to hop into TAB to catch Angie Mattson earlier than tonight. Glad that her stint lasts for a week to allow some flexibility to the schedule. I like her stuff and don't want to miss out on her gig in Singapore.

Nothing gives me greater pleasure than listening to good music in a bar that is sufficiently ventilated. I'm simply thrilled that we've this venue that allows a civilized drink in hand while chilling out to whoever's in town at the moment. So tonight, there were the soothing breathy sounds of the talented singer-songwriter to mark 3 days of low stress levels.

A Little Bit Left

The girlfriend hopped into a shop one whimsical afternoon and bought all sorts of things. Aside from an exciting bottle of cooking essence, she also gifted us whisky in the prettiest bottle. A gentle and easy Bunnahabhain 12 y.o. I love the star-shaped bottle!

The girlfriend hopped by when I was out, so the man conveniently forgot to tell me. He took it to SingFest and had the temerity to swig most of it before Smashing Pumpkins came onto the stage. I didn't even know anything about this gift until the next day when the man 'fessed up. I never even saw the bottle till later in the evening. By then, there was literally only a single dram left for me. WAIL. He did it on purpose I swear!

What you see in the photo now is just that teeeeeeeny bit that I'm saving up to sip it sometime over the weekend. Now that I've taken photographic evidence of how much whisky is left, the man can't steal anymore from this bottle. Shoo! We've other bottles for him to fiddle with. This, or rather what's left, is mine, all mine.

iPhone Etiquette

I found it absolutely distracting to carry on a conversation to the beeps and shrieks at the next table. The group of 5 + 3 young children was obviously done with dessert and were lingering over dunno-what because there was no other food items or drinks that arrived in the next 15 minutes. They all had their noses buried in their iPhones and iPads which made alot of sounds. They were playing games. I didn't really understand the fun, but I guess these people were rather entertained. I suppose that no matter the age, iPhone games are quite cool, especially for this group of humans in their late twenties to mid-thirties. In contrast, their young children were playing with little toys on their highchairs.

I caught other patrons shoot irritated looks at that gaming table. After 15 minutes, the electronic sounds continued and no one did anything. The servers' request to them to lower the volume of their phone didn't seem to work. I could tolerate loud laughter and conversation. But I would not stand for continued electronic annoyance to the ears. I apologized to my table, gently stood up and took 3 steps to the next table that was still merrily chuckling away to a cacophony of beeps, bells and whatnots emanating from their handhelds.

I bent over and whispered my thoughts aloud. Obviously they couldn't hear me well. They were so unfriendly. They looked up once and then went back to their phones. They did ask, 'What?!"

So I raised my voice, "YOU LOOK EDUCATED. WHEN YOU'RE PLAYING GAMES, WOULD YOU PLEASE SWITCH TO THE SILENT MODE ON YOUR IPHONES? I GET HEART PALPITATIONS FROM THE SOUNDS. SORRY I'M NOT VERY CULTURED. AM I TOO SOFT? SHOULD I SPEAK LOUDER?"

The group left rather quickly after that. They called me 'bitch'. I'm not bothered. They did as they were told. I had peace for the rest of my meal and enjoyed the bottle of Krug in relative serenity amidst the usual hum of a restaurant.

Never Retire

Stepping out of the flat one morning last week, I was immediately jolted from the half-awake state at the sight of a bent old man mopping the floor slowly. He was the new cleaner for the block. Before anything, he had already greeted us in English. Instantly, the man and I replied, "Good morning!"

My heart did this little twist. The cleaner was clearly, at least 75 years old. He was slow, but mobile. His back was bent and he couldn't raise his arms above his shoulders. He wasn't not able to clean the top of the lift or wipe the walls. But he was able to sweep and mop. He went about those tasks with great seriousness. He was doing his job.

From then on, the man and I endeavor to greet him first, before he can say anything. That's the least we can do. I'm not sure if that's all I want to do. We'll see. I thought I wouldn't be affected, but I am.

Is this the scenario that we want to see? That all the old folks in the country can't rest even after they've worked their asses off for a good 40 years? Is this what a certain personage mean about never retiring? It will take this cleaner a good 5 hours to finish all the lift lobbies in this assigned block and end his day with aching bones and feet. I'm quite sure that 'getting used to it' is NOT a way of life. If you make me do this for 5 hours, I'll die. Don't even get me started on what I see on a weekly basis that's happening to my old folks.

Never retire? That concept can go to hell.

Keep Religion Out of The Office Please

Another colleague has raised my ire whenever she rattles on and on about demons and faith healing, exhorting people not to go for massages and whatnots. She loudly states that if you have a headache or a backache, it means that demons dwell in you. If you walk funny because of a curved spine or something, it's caused by demons. WTF. Her beliefs aren't mine, obviously.

She was sent on a work trip to Cambodia, accompanied by two junior colleagues. When they returned, I went up in flames when I learnt that this colleague talked extensively to the two younger girls about demons in the country. So the two girls were scared like hell throughout, claiming ghosts in the hotel rooms. The root of their worry and paranoia was of course, no thanks to this particular supposedly older and wiser colleague. Hallo, my office travels often. I can't send my girls and boys overseas only to hear this sort of ridiculous conversation in the nights after the work day.

Trust me, I was more than pissed off. I had a talk with said senior colleague and sternly told her that I do not want to hear any more stories about demons from other people who accompany her on such work trips. It is most unbecoming of someone of her age and designation to engage in such discussions in these situations. Where is the professionalism? She knows in no uncertain terms that if necessary, I will flag the situation to the bosses and I will put a stop to her travelling should I hear anything to the tune of demons again. She will do well to keep her beliefs private. Since then, she has wisely kept quiet for the next couple of trips to Cambodia and other countries.

I'm still keeping an eye on her. I don't like all this nonsense going on at the office. It's meant to be as secular and professional as possible. The whole exchange with her gave me the heebie-jeebies. It isn't just about her being religious or spiritual. It's that fanatical glint that I saw which deeply bothers me.

To Fit In

It was so nice to miss out on the National Day observance ceremony at the office because I had other work matters to attend to. But I still ran into some colleagues when I got back to the building. The blinding sea of red (clothes) was rather corny. And oh, the irony of wearing slogans on tees and not be thrown into jail in the name of patriotism.

A polite chat with a colleague in the corridor that led to a question about whether I've seen the previews for our National Day Parade. Of course not. I simply shook my head. Colleague asked if I planned to do so this weekend. I looked at her. It was an earnest question. We've been colleagues for years, but we're not friends. I draw a very clear line between colleagues and friends. Colleagues, under normal circumstances, are people I don't befriend. I call very few colleagues 'friends'. At the last count yesterday, the number stands at 6.

In a normal superficial conversation, there isn't a need to dwell on my political and social opinions. It took 2 seconds to formulate an answer. "The family will probably gather for dinner in front of the telly, have dinner and watch the parade. Maybe we will hear the planes roar."

"So nice! I want to go to Marina Barrage to catch fireworks, but I'm a bit afraid of the crowds. Don't know if I can get there with all the road closures. Maybe I'll go earlier for a picnic." She walked away smiling. I could almost see the thought bubble above her head that was planning for the weekend's activities.

The exchange is saddening. I don't know what to make of it. I feel like a fraud for having given her a reply which painted a scenario I most resent and will never do. What I really wanted to say was- "Who cares about the parade?"

This is the price of conformity.

Cassia At Capella

Another favorite venue of ours for Sunday lunches is Cassia at Capella. We like the serenity of the area, the sunshine on lush greenery and the effusive service.

The thing is, if you want hearty dim sum and traditional flavors in your Chinese food, you'll be disappointed by Cassia. Head over to Yan Ting at St Regis or Hai Tien Lou at Pan Pacific instead.

Cassia reminds me a little of Lung King Heen, in terms of lighting, table setting and feel. I'm fond of Lung King Heen. It's fine-dining at its best. But the decor is where the similarities more or less ended. Food wise, the moment you taste their amuse-bouche, it tells you how unique the respective restaurants are.

The food at the 2 restaurants is prepared with a contemporary mindset. Both restaurants' soups are beautifully boiled with a depth that many commercial kitchens don't achieve nowadays. There're of course subtle differences in its flavors. Cassia is clearly the more innovative. It succeeds in its motto of culinary fun in most dishes, but not for some. The pork and century egg porridge at Cassia tries too hard to be 'upmarket' in its ingredients. That, in my books, kinda failed. The texture of the porridge is lumpy and the taste and meats used don't quite gel well together. i.e a more expensive cut of pork might not result in a tastier finish. They don't use minced pork. They use a saltier cut of ham-like bits. It should take a leaf from Lung King Heen's kitchen on how to do a traditional tasty yet refined century egg pork porridge.

However, the friends like its roasted pork belly. I forgot, but I think Kurobuta pork is used. I assure you, the quality of the pork makes a huge difference to whether it stinks when put into the mouth. Purists will turn up their nose at Cassia's version because it's very delicate, well balanced and non-salty. The fats aren't exactly gooey. It's unlike the hearty and rough versions offered out there. The crackling effect is not uneven and perhaps not as thick as some would like. But for the friends, they prefer this version. As pretty as the presentation is, I can't be persuaded to try a slice.

Cassia's Chef Ooi seems to be very into abalone as it appears rather frequently in his dishes. It could also be that each time we dine at Cassia, we somehow order dishes which heavily feature abalone. This won't work very well because at the end of the meal, I remember nothing but the taste of abalone and all the brown superior stock/gravy I've had in various forms. :p

It isn't a big restaurant, but it feels spacious. The tables are intimately placed without being cramped up against one another. There's a good measure of privacy created between chairs. It's nice that we get pretty stools for our bags to sit on. I like Cassia because its menu offers alot of food options that appeal to finicky eaters like me.