Spoilt, Rotten

When I had no appetite at dinner and disappeared into the room, I had no idea that the maid 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 maid 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 maid. 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 (Monmouth beans) flat white and the bi luo chun in the exact proportions I like. :(

An Hour Of Lunch

Since lunch wasn't really about eating, the venue didn't matter. We headed to 'Everything With Fries'. It was my first time stepping into the deli. Let's just say that on a good day, I don't belong to their fanbase.

The best parts of the meal for me were the coleslaw and sparkling apple juice. The fries at the deli were arguably the better done items on the menu. But there was something in the oil and the type of potato they used for the fries that weren't quite to my taste.

The company and conversation were totally the highlight of lunch. I rarely get to go out for a casual lunch, and with friends too, so it was a treat to kick back and wind down a little for an hour.

I like this dress very much. It's the sort of structured but whimsical design I'm partial to. The ruching at the front bothered me just a little when I bought it. I was half-hearted about it. But the fabric is heavy with a little bit of a wool mix; upon wearing, it falls beautifully and doesn't feel too bad. The dress is well sewn, almost severe yet not too boring. It's just a little strange that I've somehow gotten used to living in these dresses during the week, although on the weekends, I want to wear nothing more than jeans and tees. Let's see how I'm going to store these dresses next year. I suspect that there will be little use for them then.

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.

The Flavors Of Home

Nothing says I'm home more than a spicy serving of laksa, nasi padang and sambal.

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 shrimps 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!

Fries Done In Duck Fat!

Since the recipes for the duck breast called for its skin to be removed, the man wasn't about to simply bin it. What a waste! The man rendered the skin till all the liquid fats oozed out. It was the best way to extract duck fat and oil. Woah! Can you spell unhealthy?! Potatoes cooked in duck fat carry this distinct fragrance. My mind was swimming with visions of tasty thick cut fries and hash browns yo.

The maid already sliced up the potatoes. She likes potatoes and fries too. So I told her to slice that little bit more, just in case, we got greedy. Heh. Of course there isn't a deep fryer at home. Not necessary I suppose. We can just use a wok. That worked beautifully. The maid said unlike other types of oil to fry things in, she only needed to use a tablespoon of the duck fat instead of a full mug. She observed that it would appear that the potatoes didn't quite absorb the oil, which was, to me, a good thing!

When the fries were ready, we laughed and laughed. It was one giant salad bowl-ful! It was soooooo tasty. The hint of saltiness from the duck fat meant we didn't have to shake additional sea salt over the fries. For variation, we lightly sprinkled truffle salt over a portion.

Conquering Duck In A Pan

We screwed up a perfectly good piece of duck breast last week with amateur skills and had to apologize profusely to the good people at Cookyn With Mervyn.

Even though we don't normally fancy chervil in salad, we stuck to that recommendation which was frankly not the best combination when used with the wrong types of greens and bland canned tangerines. Worst, we adamantly followed instructions during cooking without paying attention to the actual process the meat was going through. After pan-frying over steady medium-low heat and a bout in the oven, the meat was completely well done and rubbery to bite.

Duck isn't exactly the easiest of meats to conquer. We're totally green to it. Duck is rarely cooked at home; it isn't often eaten at restaurants either. I'm not even very fond of roast duck, not in Hong Kong or even if it's from Four Seasons at Bayswater- of which I resolutely avoid whenever I'm in London. Out of pure curiosity, we want to try out this new meat and be better acquainted with it. For good measure, we went out to get 3 pieces of duck breast, determined to understand its texture and properties over the next couple of weekends.

Today, we looked at 2 recipes for duck breast. The man refused to follow them to a T. The man pinched and added whatever and wherever it felt right. So the recipes were effectively a guideline and no more. Honestly, the man isn't that unexperienced in the kitchen. He has learnt to follow his instincts. It wasn't to be a salad for dinner. It would be prepared as a main.

This round, we halved the portion of meat and fried it under the recommended time. The meat was supposed to flip each way for 3 minutes. Since I watched the meat, I insisted on flipping it in 2 minutes, stared really hard at the redness and declared it done in a total of 4.5 minutes. We drizzled orange juice and spices over the pieces of meat. Honestly, I thought it was a tad cooked on the sides. But when I sliced them, the middle was still pink. No gamey taste. That was ideal. Plenty of space for improvement still, I feel.

Sunny Sunday At Dempsey

It was convenient to swing by Pamplemousse for lunch and then stroll over to the butchers and dry goods retail stores to stock up on groceries. We like chilling out at the Dempsey area on a weekend.

Lunch, for me, at least, was light. It was mainly a fair bit of scrambled eggs and pan-seared red snapper. I loved the squid ink gnocchi. I palmed off lots of meat to the others on the table. A pity that the restaurant doesn't serve freshly squeezed orange juice. That will have made it a nicer Sunday.

We all shared the smoked ocean trout. Very delicately done. The man was toying the idea of having a fish, but couldn't resist having his favorite onglet steak with eggs. He said that the sausages from everyone's eggs were good. Of course this meal would be better than a certain cafe's down the road. I absolutely dislike eating there simply because the food and desserts are sub-standard and they try to say it isn't so. That's a cafe masquerading as a restaurant. This is a proper restaurant whose chef works hard in the kitchen, even on a Sunday.

It was a blazing hot day man. Simply walking to and fro from shop to shop got me a slight tan on the shoulders and feet, not to mention a glaze of stickiness on the skin. Should have worn a huge floppy hat and flouncy skirts. Gaah. Now, I feel like a dip in the pool, again, is necessary.

Tea At Axis

I surprised myself with the bit of discipline and resolutely cut back on the alcohol. I was feeling healthy all weekend and did not need a binge or anything to spoil it. When ingested in moderation, everything is good. It's been a celebratory week of sorts. :D

After a thumping hot and humid evening at Baybeats filled with tiny glasses of beer and gin tonic, we sauntered across the road for some quiet, music on the other end of the scale, air-conditioning and clean washrooms. There were the obligatory glasses of martinis to begin with before we skipped the alcohol altogether.

I like the bar's long list of teas on the menu. It's been a long while since I've had the luxury of time to sit down to enjoy a pot of tea. I've almost forgotten how relaxing that can be. The caffeine in tea is insufficient to disrupt my sleep patterns. I could drink 2 pots and still sleep through the night. At the bar, my night was markedly filled with a lovely pot of Mariage Freres perfumed tea.

Twice A Night Display This Weekend

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

Wine All Night

It couldn't have been the wine. We're too used to it by now, even though it still puts me to sleep. Light wines that aren't too complex are ideal for me. What do I know about wine anyway?!

It was a hilarious evening peppered with nonsensical comments and opinions, which was fine by me. The girlfriend can be a tad solemn and too bogged down by trying to please everyone and in the process, cause herself to be upset and still convince herself that it's worth her while. Tsk.

Doing drinks before dinner was a fabulous idea. It was a good way to wind down after a long week. The girlfriend was in this frilly pink top that was so totally not her and fierce beige heels. I wanted to grab a photo of her in the final few minutes of natural light before dusk. But she refused to stand still for a shot and ran away. Grrrr. The drizzle had sorta stopped by then, but it was gloomy and looked like it would continue later. It did. But it wasn't heavy enough to deter us from strolling to dinner at Pamplemousse. Nothing that a brolly couldn't help.

We took a leap of faith and had the recommended specials of the day- an appetizer of stuffed squid and a main of barramundi. Quite tasty. The fish was excellent and cooked just right. It came with a side of braised fennel; we couldn't be convinced to try it. I no like fennel.

The girlfriend's capacity for wine is definitely larger than mine. She asked if I wanted whisky. I was horrified! No mixing of alcohol! No hangovers welcome! At dinner, we had more wine. She had no problems with her glass of pinot gris while I struggled ever so slightly with mine. To be fair, we had more water than alcohol put together. By the time dessert rolled around, we must have downed a litre of water each.

Want Abalone :: Eat Abalone

It's been a strange sort of week at work. I'm glad that it's drawing to a close. I had a dinner date tonight with the girlfriend and for the longest while, I couldn't decide on where to go.

This morning, I had an intense craving for abalone steamed in the Chinese style with stock. The girlfriend obliged, and picked out the blissfully quiet Yan Ting for dinner. It was nice to slide into a seat in the corner and have comfort food. Well, to order my food, I had to speak Mandarin too. Why? Must I speak Mandarin in Chinese restaurants in Singapore? Why is it that I can speak English in Chinese restaurants in London and New York City? What is wrong with our service industry? I give up. Really.

When I'm with non-Chinese friends (which is rather frequently), it simply makes me think twice about heading to a Chinese restaurant for meals unless I feel like being nice and doing interpretation. Otherwise, I'd declare loudly to the manager that the table doesn't understand Mandarin and ask to be assigned a decent English-speaking server.

Living in Singapore has definitely spoilt my tastebuds rotten. We have such a wide range of food available. Lots of good choices too. I had my favorite Indian food at lunch and now, a change of flavors to Chinese. Piping hot bamboo pith and fish maw soup was a good start to the meal. The girlfriend had a thicker lobster and shimeji mushroom mix that was evenly boiled! Not too bad at all. We didn't need much food. Some bits of sea perch, a little square of braised beef (that I couldn't finish), 3 spoonfuls of rice and lots of baby spinach completed the meal. Very satisfying.

Counting My Blessings

I enjoyed lunch at Sabai Restaurant. The restaurant wasn't packed and service was fast during that 2 hours. Food was decent too. It was a fairly enjoyable work lunch. The hosts were gracious and I was able to speak on topics beyond the pleasantries in Thai to them at many points, even though we mainly kept to English as a courtesy to the rest of the guests. 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, could I?

Back at the office, there was a bit of work to follow up on. Nothing difficult. I enjoyed the phone conversation that ensued in Thai and a bit of English, typical of how my friends would speak. It was very nice. I put down the phone with a huge sigh. I'm going to miss this.

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. Then, in that scope, my market value will plummet. That cannot be so. I've promised the bosses that I'd give it a think. That, I will do so. But only that and nothing more. I don't believe and at this moment, I've zero faith. Perhaps I would continue doing what I do at another organization. Perhaps not. I don't know. Since that day, I've been feeling somewhat refreshed. Putting my decision onto paper has taken a huge weight off the shoulders and lightened the heart. In that, I'm 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. *heartache

Week Night Out

I've given up speaking in English at Taste Paradise Ion and am resigned to speaking in Cantonese. It somehow works better. I'm not pleased about it, but since all the managers who took my orders never fail to pretend not to understand my English, I've decided to speak the most slang-kind of Cantonese and Mandarin- confirm understand me one.

Anyway, I only wanted 3 items for dinner- a bowl of hot soup, bamboo clams and fish. Whatever I wanted tonight was sold out and the kitchen had the decency to tell me and offered other selections. Luckily the 无花果 (apparently it's a sort of fig and a Chinese herb) and pork soup didn't taste too stinky. It was almost fruity. They gave me surf clams which turned out quite good when steamed in garlic and soy sauce. I stared at the menu for fish. They had all the Chinese fish, or rather fish that would taste best cooked in one Chinese style or the other. Satisfied that it was a common coral trout on the menu, we had 600grams and cleaned it to the bones. :D

Dinner companion had dessert. I couldn't stomach it then; I was thinking of having her gift of champagne chocolates during drinks. We headed to TAB. It was a bit of a shock to bump into so many acquaintances and friends I hadn't seen in years. They were there to simply check out the venue and see if it's worth the hype. But hey, tonight was quite chill with Kevin Mathews and David Choi, so not too surprising that many would come in tonight. I hid in a corner and greedily ate up many squares of champagne chocolates. Heh.

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.

Spices Rock!

Next to Japanese food, Indian food is probably my absolute favorite flavors anytime. The home fridge always contains a tub of dhaal and basmati at home for late night nibbles, along with a bottle of chutney. Chutney, dhaal and curry- best.

There're a couple of Malay stalls at the makan places around the office that I favor, but not many Indian stalls. On some occasions, the office caters good food from Mayura, which to me, is a welcome change from the usual caterers. Those are the days that I merrily lunch in and eat gigantic amounts of basmati rice and curry. It's mid-day and I can afford to indulge in carbs with little trace of guilt.

What's even better, is the family would sit down regularly to Indian meals. At least I don't have to deal with chicken all the time. I'm terribly thrilled that chicken has gradually stopped being put in front of me at meal times. The family likes fishhead curry done with the extra spices along with palek paneer, beans and whatnots. I love them!

The friends would brave the traffic and make regular treks to Little India to satisfy cravings for spices! We really dig the awesome Indian vegetarian food at the restaurants in the area. Needless to say, our best memories of zany laughter and good company are derived from many yummy dinners in eateries in Little India.

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.

Dinner With The Girlfriend's Mother

The girlfriend's mother sent an email, instructing us to turn up for a girls' night out at Tatsuya because the "blasted road closures have deemed restaurants in the downtown area unappealing for this month". We see her once a month for dinners. She usually choose the dinner venues and picks up the tab. We've wisely learnt not to argue with her about that. The last time one of us sneakily paid the bill, she nagged at us about it for 2 months.

She laughs heartily at her lack of culinary skills, but she has very discerning tastebuds and will most enthusiastically lead us (or tapau for us) to the best food in town. The dinner was no different. She must have terrorized the chefs at Tatsuya for they brought out a different selection from their usual. That was really good- we eat at Tatsuya so often that we know their repertoire and the palate gets a little tired.

The girlfriend is so unlike her mother that I think it hilarious at times. The girlfriend wryly admits that she's thankful for our company at dinner, otherwise she and her mom might just throw barbs at each other all evening. But because she isn't my mother, I think she's quite cool. For a self-professed (and totally deserving) socialite, she makes no apologies for it and reminds us that we should all do the same when we get to that age. But that's the side of glamour the general public sees. We are privy to the other side of her, the genuine warmth and care she shows us through so many different ways. Simply because we've been good friends with her daughter for years and years, she has literally adopted us as her own.

By the end of the night, I lost the argument with her about why the Mulberry Alexa isn't as stylish as the Proenza Schouler PS11. She thinks they're on equal footing. I must have missed out a chunk of my readings. Boo.

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

This Is Music I Like

A rare Friday where I partied all night. I couldn't believe that I drank beer. BEER. Ridiculous. Empty calories. I didn't want the housepour Asahi, but I was in the mood for some bottles of Hoegaarden. So we had that all around. When the friends started doing submarines, I wisely sidled away.

I've forgotten how good it feels to be among friends. I've not seen many for a long while because I keep missing gigs. :p The friends didn't let me whack a guy on the head with a beer bottle because given his profession, he stupidly asked me "So what do you do?", to which I flippantly replied, "Nothing." They didn't want to bail me out of jail, you see. So I was not allowed to be violent.

It all began at Home Club with 2 gigs that were so good. Happy to have caught up with so many friends who turned up in support and expectation for a pulsating night of heavy beats. A progressive rock element ran signature for both In Each Hand A Cutlass and Lunarin. Keep that angst, boys and girls. It touches the raw core.

A Gourmet Box Of Surprises From Cookyn With Mervyn

The good people from Cookyn with Mervyn has launched an online delivery service whereby they busy customers buy ingredients for a selection of recipes. They sent us a box with their full compliments so that we could try out to see what this is all about!

Everything was very prettily packaged in a purple with matching drapes. Our 'Box of Gourmet Surprises' held the exact amount of ingredients needed to make a roasted French duck breast salad with tangerine. It also included the recipe and instructions on how to do so. Clearly, alot of effort has gone into conceptualizing this.

The man and I had vastly different reactions to the contents. He was like, "They included balsamic vinegar and chervil too? Which kitchen doesn't have that?! " I was like, "So fun!" But no, it wouldn't entice me to cook. I will watch the man cook. The box held a really good slab of duck breast. Nice. The greens for the salad are pedestrian. Between taking receipt of the box on tonight till the intended dinner on Sunday night, the greens won't survive. They're meant to be washed and eaten immediately. I'd also prefer a different mix for my greens and would rather buy my own.

Now, about the balsamic vinegar. I'm very particular about it. Like fine whisky and rum, I can taste the nuances between bottlings across different ages. I was suspicious of the balsamic vinegar in a small tub. I don't fancy eating things that contain no further information beyond a transparent plastic tub. I opened it to taste and sadly, I don't like the flavor. We apportion different years of aged balsamic vinegar for different salads, meats and whatnots. So for this roasted duck breast salad, obviously one of the bottles in my larder will be used.

Clearly, this service doesn't appeal to us or anyone with an extremely well stocked kitchen or regular supermarket jaunts. I'm also a little anal about the sources of my food. The description of the recipes currently listed on the website, I feel, needs to be more specific and a little more thorough. The short summary doesn't provide me with sufficient information about where the food is sourced from, or the brands of ingredients to be expected before I pay for it. There's no reason for us to use this service. But once in a bit, I think I still will, if they're able to get a particular cut of fish like turbot or something. However, this concept, really, is to provide ingredients to specific recipes. Be mindful that Cookyn with Mervyn isn't a full-suite online grocer. So don't be mistaken about that. I will use this service as an option to send gifts to friends. It's a lot more useful than those stupid hampers we receive. If something needs to be chilled, I'll call in advance to let them know to have someone at home to await delivery. I can imagine how fun it can be to host a potluck party and order stuff online to be sent to the various guests; they can separately cook up a storm and haul it to the party venue. Quite refreshing.

This service should appeal to couples who want to have a meal without the hassle of having to brave the parking, crowds and lines at the supermarket. This is where Cookyn with Mervyn's delivery service can cut out all that annoyance for you. It's an excellent way of planning a dinner menu from starters to dessert, and ensuring that you get all the ingredients needed.

The point is to try out the recipe provided. So that's exactly what we'll do on Sunday night.

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.

At The Malls This Afternoon

The girlfriend took me out to lunch and a much-needed facial. After a morning of running around plastered with fake smiles, it was nice to put away the mask for a bit and be myself.

At Tatsuya, cold ocha and a yummy bowl of chirashizushi suited the stomach perfectly. We ate early, and was spared of the horde of other guests who streamed in later. All very well that we decided to hide away for a facial. The weather was boiling. But yes, better than a heavy storm.

Like I said, I haven't been very bothered about facials, but I suppose age (and laziness) does take its toll and every now and then, the face needs to be thoroughly cleansed. The girlfriend declared the chillout venue for the afternoon to be Institut Clarins. My therapist was so nervous. She wasn't a newbie, but she was clearly nervous. Why ah? I wasn't going to chew her head off. Her hands were soothing. The cleansers worked well. I left the salon with a very clean face and oversized sunnies. Now no make-up on, must mask the dark circles.

Town wasn't as crowded as we expected. There were plenty of humans of course, but not too overwhelming. Whew. Errands were duly completed in relative peace and we put in a cup of coffee before heading home. Upon reaching home, I took out the moisturizers to store them away. To my horror, the labels all read- 'shower gel'. Alamak! What was I thinking? I swept the shelves clean because the moisturizers needed to be stocked up. Now, I don't have to replenish the bottles of shower gel for a long while. I've to go out and buy the moisturizers, properly, this time. Doh.

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.

Still Loving Dr Martens

Nothing makes me happier than to be able to wear jeans and flats all day. The weekend get-up restores the little identity I possess that is subsumed underneath drab daily work garb. The passing years have almost made me forget how it is like to have fun. Thank goodness for the man and the friends who keep me leashed to what I am, and not what I'm supposed to be.

A friend grinned and said that she was more of a 'teh-peng and sugarcane' kind of girl over English tea or coffee. I'm definitely a 'flat white and sparkling water' kind of girl then. Dainty stilettos and fierce heels are not me either. Flip flops, birkies and flats do better. I just prefer hanging out in casuals more than dressing up to the nines. I rather not attend events which require a measure of dress code than to fret over what to wear.

I love how comfortable this new pair of Doc Marts are. They fit like a glove. It was an impulse buy. There're too many pairs of black flats in the shoe cabinet. But who cares. I can always do with another pair of flats. I love black. This pair let me dance all evening to Belle & Sebastian's lively gig. Awesome. Let's see if I can get the the same design in another color.

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.

Winding Down At Otto

Dinners at Otto Ristorante are a weekly affair. The bottle of wine is optional, but it's always a welcome drink. They carry my (now) favorite Sassicaia in various years. If it's a Friday, wine won't be ordered as we'd be heading out for drinks after. Wine and whisky is never a good combination for the head.

The restaurant was having a carnivore menu on promotion. So the man rubbed his hands in glee and had the ragout of rabbit on pasta. I grimaced and absolutely refused to try it! I was like, poor little cute bunnies! He wasn't bothered. He laughed said they used hares as big as chickens who could claw my eyes out. WHATEVER. Cruel cruel man.

Now, the saffron risotto on that cut of oso bucco was LOVELY. We haven't had the oso bucco for some time, but I wanted to try the risotto again. The chef had definitely tweaked the recipe. I proclaimed the risotto better than the meat. The kitchen was generous with the saffron too. I could see plenty of it used in the risotto. There was a good portion of marrow, of course. The man dug it out rather easily and wolfed it down.

What else did I have, but my favorite sea urchin pasta. I prefer this drier interpretation of the dish where the uni isn't exactly heavy on the tastebuds. I've come to like this for the usual order, but still keeping the tomato-based lobster linguine in mind when I want something not so savory and a little more tart.

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.