The Single Leg Tendon Stretch on the Reformer

While the brain understands that the Pilates tendon stretch on the Chair or the Reformer isn't about arm strength, it still took some time for the body to understand the movement. It comes from the core and the abs.

I've started on the basic single leg tendon stretch on the Reformer. As usual, I made the instructor show it to me once. Often, my brain doesn't quite understand what the ears hear. Once she showed me how it's done, I sort of understood. BUT. I missed out a crucial point in getting the form right. You know I have this phobia of face-planting, so I couldn't dive far front enough to get into the proper position. Without going forward low and farther, no matter how I scoop, it's super tough to start moving like a hinge correctly. Trying to compensate for the hinge with arm strength isn't exercising the right core muscles, and you won't use the abs in the right manner. Ugh.

I usually ask the instructor to take a video of me doing a new movement, and I'll also grab a quick video of her doing it. Well, these videos are for our eyes only. It's meant for me to spy incorrect form and check out where the mistakes lie, and correct them. Took a deep breath and tried again. Dipped the head down much deeper than the first time in order to raise the butt higher. Got it right the second time round, and of course the movement felt much better. My free leg doesn't have to hang there at the back. Once I'm fully comfortable in the tendon stretch, it could move up or sideways.

Managed to try it out on the Reformer at the gym for the next few days. Practiced it loads. I finally fully understood the movement. Nailed it. I'm literally a hinge. This hinge shouldn't be done fast. It should be done slow and controlled, to feel the full work on the abs. The arms are just there to stabilize the body, and there should be minimal arm strength utilized in this movement.

The incorrect starting posture.

酢重正之〜で幸せな食べ物

Happiness is sitting down to dinner with J after a looong week. Suju at Mandarin Gallery is where we usually head to for comfort food. After a whole week of rushed meals that comprised mainly sad salads and sandwiches, I couldn't wait for dinner! Was so eager for 7pm to roll around.

I was really hungry and was pleased to have cold tofu and beautifully steamed rice and fish. I always finish up every grain of rice at Suju. The restaurant hasn't stinged on the quality of its rice all these years. The pile of negitoro was pretty decent. J loves the food here too, and was pleased that she got her pork and rice fix. The food totally hit a spot. Two very happy tummies.

At some point, I might have influenced J to pick up more than water or tea at the evening meal. HAHAHAHA. Of late, she has been pretty receptive to having a glass of umeshu, sparkling yuzu shochu something or whatever that's chilled, light and refreshing. Tonight, I didn't mind sipping something a little sweeter, and asked for a glass of kokuto umeshu (黒糖梅酒) on the rocks. J piped up, "Me too please!" Say whuuut. Teeeheheheheh.

Hello Inky Octopus!

Spotted a super cute Inky Octopus from Jellycat. I had wanted to buy it for the BFF. She tsk-ed at me, "Don't waste money!" Fine. That might have been six months ago. There's a pink octopus, but it’s a little too pink. The dark grey and black one appeals to us more.

Spotted the Inky Octopus again that day when I walked through the mall to get to the cinema. There’re three sizes. Couldn't stop laughing when I held up the small one. The big is a little too big. The tiny version is a little too small. The BFF isn't going to put it her bag and tot it around. The small was on sale, and I didn't bother thinking too much about it. If the BFF didn't want it, I'm keeping it. It's absolutely adorable! Scooped it up and paid.

The BFF doesn't actually own a ton of stuffed toys. But she does have a few of those. A really strange fierce Rabbit, and a number of random Hello Kitty thingies. Eeeps. I suppose that by this age, most of our stuffed toys have either been shredded to pieces or simply fallen apart. BUT, some things don't change. While we might still have a few teddy bears or so, it's not like we have an entire cupboard of them sitting around anymore.

Brought Inky Octopus and propped it on the BFF's couch. It looked super happy sitting there. Later on in the night, she texted me a photo of the new toy. I literally laughed for two minutes. The Inky Octopus looked like it had persuaded the Hello Kitty that it was harmless, but really, it was going to GOBBLE UP The Cat With No Mouth. 🤣

The Onam Sadhya 2018

Onam 2018 spanned 15-27 August. Celebrated in the first month of Malayalam calendar, Onam is solemn this year for many with family and friends in Kerala who face devastating floods and its aftermath. Cochin International Airport is still closed due to extensive damage in the area.

While the festival doesn't hold religious or cultural significance to us, it holds meaning for the friends. Through them, we've learnt to appreciate the festival and its customs. For the man and I, it's really about the wonderful food served at the Onam sadhya. Heh. The restaurants always do it in the form of a buffet table, and rescind their a la carte menu for two weekends. The man was traveling and wasn't able to join in at the earlier sadhya. Luckily for him, he got back to town in time for one lunch at the Onam buffet. Otherwise he would have been really sad to miss out on the fabulous spreads.

We went to Spice Junction to have our fix of the Onam sadhya. All the vegetarian dishes I love. Dessert saw two kinds of payasam for those with a sweet tooth at our table. Apparently there're ten kinds of payasam that will pop up at Onam. But generally, restaurants here trot out two types only. Back to the savory dishes. There's no way I can produce these dishes in my kitchen. Either I turn up at the friends' parents dining tables, or I pop in to the restaurants. The latter option is always easier, and I'd feel less guilty. Hahahah. I especially look forward to olan, the creamy Kerala curry of ash gourd, black eyed peas, green chillies, ginger and coconut milk. Spice Junction did it beautifully.

That Holiday Memory

I like Ottessa Moshfegh's writing, just that I haven't gotten around to reading her debut novel 'Eileen' (2015). I read her short story titled 'The Man in Xinjiang', published in The New Yorker on August 15, 2018.

This short story is fairly arresting. Ottessa Moshfegh wrote of her personal experience, succinctly. This isn't exactly a romantic tale although it's full of romance, somewhat. There's an element of danger, which thankfully doesn't translate into actual harm.

In this story of her youth, the author traveled to the autonomous region of Xinjiang in Northwest China with her then already-broken-up-boyfriend-Tim-turned-traveling-companion. The travelers took a bus and turned up at Karakul Lake at the Pamir Plateau, a good 200km from Kashgar, at an altitude of 3600m. I knew exactly where she was referring to. I had traveled the same route myself a decade and a half ago. Except I didn't just stay at random yurts and hire random guides to take me horseback riding in the snow mountains.

There was an odd physical attraction between her and their 'guide', Adil. When Tim fell ill on the second day, and the author went out to get him medicine and supplies, there was a chunk of alone time with Adil, a serious chat, and a sort-of marriage proposal, then rejection. Then the author fell ill on the third day; they were afraid that they had been poisoned by Adil and would be killed in this yurt. It's terrifying to have a strange man come on to you in this remote area, even odder when it's assumed she's traveling with a boyfriend.

In the end, the author and Tim cut short their stay, hailed a passing driver, successfully hitched a ride from that sane driver, and hightailed it back to Kashgar overnight. I do like how the story ended, and am glad that the couple was okay, and Adil, as intense as he was, meant them no harm.

Adil swatted at a fly, as though to shoo away any more thoughts of Tim. “I want to be your boyfriend,” he said. He suggested that I send Tim home and stay there with him. I smiled, but Adil wasn’t joking. He reached across the small table between us, took my hand, and held it against his cheek. Something about the sweetness of the gesture made me pause to consider his offer. I was about to head back to New York, where the perils of modern life loomed. Living as a shepherdess in a beautiful mountain village was a tempting alternative. We sat in silence as the fantasy took shape.

The hilarious part is, for someone totally not into the genre of romance in films and books, I totally get what the author felt when she wrote that in the later years, she reminisced about living in the beautiful mountains. If you stay in a mountain village for a few weeks and you're single, you'll probably get a ton of marriage proposals too. Teeehehehehe. I suppose many Uyghur men are diehard romantics, and can be very charming when they're totally at home on horseback, and the great outdoors and among the mountains. IF you like that type of men. HAHAHAH.

Well, mountains have that effect on me too. Hanging out in the vast space for a few weeks make me want to throw caution to the wind, and stay on forever with what little I have, because seemingly, I don't need much living in the mountains. Nature provides everything. That idea itself is romantic because at the back of my mind, I know that this idyllic life wouldn't last beyond six months. LOL. Well, it doesn't have to be Xinjiang, only because uhhh, it's the Chinese government's bugbear now and forever. It could be Bhutan, somewhere even more idyllic and peaceful. :P But yes, I do always wonder, what if I had picked a different route in life?

Almost There!

This is a crazy period at work for the man. He's facing loads of changes and challenges, and plenty of work trips out for a week or two at a time since June. He thoughtfully asked if I would be okay handling the bulk of the renovation and accompanying nitty-gritty details on my own. I almost cackled. YES. ABSOLUTELY.

The man's not uncontactable. Time differences, sure, but there aren't any major issues to that. I do not need his permission or approval or whatever. This isn't a 'boss and subordinate' relationship. I'd prefer to handle all of it myself, and checking in with the man now and then. In fact, I'd rather make all the executive decisions. Hurhurhur. But yes, communication channels are open and updated.

Of course the man has a say. He knows when to open his mouth. I only need to manage his sense of logistics and timing. If what he wants can't be done, I'll take a deep breath and patiently explain why. I know that not everyone understands plumbing, electricals and such. 😂 I literally wilted when I realized that the man didn't know how to manually draw or open the blinds. OMG. (He has never had blinds in any apartment ever. It has always been curtains or motorized hotel blinds.) No wonder he wants motorized blinds in the new flat!!!

So glad I factored in time for delays and hiccups. Water pipe holes, leaks and all, the entire renovation schedule has been pretty much adhered to. It honestly hasn't been stressful, only because I treat it like how I deal with work projects. I love looking into details and looking for solutions to niggly problems. The man and I are making this into a livable space, not a showroom. I knew what I'm willing to let go of and what I'm not. Chips, rough surfaces and imperfections make this flat a home. And I know every story behind a dink or a scratch.

Chuckled to myself when I assembled all our IKEA items. The contractor had earlier offered one of his workmen to come fix it for me on a separate day later on. But I had time that day. IKEA items don't require much thought or work, except for a screwdriver and spanner. The DIY instructions are really clear; everything is literally idiot-proof. With the digital door lock installed, the renovation is winding down. What's left is to clean house, have all the furniture delivered, and hope nothing else breaks down. 🤞🏻

Seabass & Lobster Tails

One late afternoon when both the man and I had a breather after running errands, and had no dinner plans with anyone, we decided to eat in. Needed ingredients though. Conveniently we were near a mall that had a supermarket, as well as an outlet of Song Fish. Perfect. These two shops settled ingredients for an easy dinner at home. Found a fresh-enough sea bass to oven grill, and two frozen lobster tails to go with pasta.

The ingredients didn't need to be marinated very much. They thawed out in the car on the way back, and continued sitting on ice while we prepped onions, garlic and such. When the fish went into the oven, we started on the pasta sauce and boiled up the lobster tails. 90 minutes later, dinner was ready.

The seabass was wrapped in aluminum foil, and came out just right from the oven. It baked nicely in its own juices, olive oil, lemon, salt and pepper. The man took care of tonight's essential carbs—spaghetti in a spicy tomato sauce. The lobster tails were boiled, peeled out, and the bits of flesh were seared and given a final toss with the pasta. The man has indeed nailed the art of cooking pasta at home. Nicely al dente, and full of flavors. There, dinner happily settled.

Power Reels

I'm still musing about the possibilities of working out at home. Keeping a mental layout of portable and lightweight exercise equipment to have at home. Of course these are in addition to a mat, and two inflatable balls. The MOTR is one option. I’m also seriously considering buying Power Reels for home workouts. Currently I only use Power Reels at the gym's Reformer HIIT classes.

Forget the yellows. The blues go at a five-pound weight resistance (2.2kg) and the reds go at eight pounds (3.6kg). Each Power Reel weighs under one kilogram. Power Reels seem to work those arm muscles differently, and my deltoids can get fatigued by using the blue to stretch out for 30-second blocks for three rapid sets, straight arms. I’m more focused on form, and am not quite bothered with using the red for now.

There's the standard use of body resistance, which is what I'm used to doing when pressed for time in the hotel room or for a short bit at home. I think I can do a good workout at home with these exercise aids. The issue is, would I be disciplined enough to use them? I can happily stretch every day and incorporate press-ups, but to willingly do mountain climbers and resistance training every other day? I’m not so sure. Hahahaha. Acquiring all these items to take up space at home isn’t the best idea if I can’t justify their existence. Heading to the gym and using its equipment is a form of motivation for me, and a great way of decluttering the home!

Friday Night Wine

Ran errands in the friends' neighborhood, and we were going to sit down to a late dinner at the nearby eatery. Randomly texted them a ‘in your hood, hello’, and a reply came immediately, "Tapau your food and come over for drinks! We ordered pizza too!" OH. They were home, celebrating the passing of an important academic exam, and obviously didn't mind company. Okay! We ordered extra dishes. Had a pint of Guinness (on tap) while waiting for the food to be ready.

Very nice to sit down for a quiet evening with good company on a Friday night. Their little wine fridge has upsized to a giant one. Hahahaha. They're totally into wine now, and they've got pretty good bottles that don't cost an astronomical amount. Whewww. I'd feel really bad to drink pricey wines because I won't be able to fully appreciate them. I'm still most familiar with Italian wines. Dunno why. Something about their grapes and profiles which my noob palate really likes.

We weren't exactly joking when we said that we would contribute towards the contents of the friends' wine fridge and crash their couch for wine. LOL. They appreciate wine more than we do. Any wine I have at home ought to be consumed asap. I don't intend to have a wine fridge since it’s mainly whisky I stock at home. At the rate we're drinking the friends' wines, we ought to replenish them! Tonight, we had three bottles of rather beautiful reds which went down easy.

Baybeats 2018

I think it says a lot when I looked at the line-up for Baybeats 2018, and realized that while I still know the names of half of the bands, there were only three bands I wanted to watch. Oops. Have I really gotten too old for this music festival? What did those articles say about people not bothering to listen to new music at 33? And the one about 42-year-olds rediscovering current pop music? All the information in these articles are only based on data from Spotify. It doesn't have to be super accurate, but it's likely to be largely representative, since we've changed how we consume music.

Watched Sherene’s Closet for the first time in years. They had one album ‘Kept Secrets’ (1999), and fell off the radar. Twenty years later, Sherene’s Closet has launched a brand new EP, ‘Rebirth’ (2018). The band’s back today with an all-new line-up, and to be honest, I enjoy this bunch a whole lot more than the original. Of course frontman Gerald Stahlmann remains. I’ve always liked Gerald’s songwriting. There’s something to be said about people following their passions and never letting that go, in spite of having to manage all that life throws at them.

Had to catch Kyoto Protocol and Caracal. The bands keep their day jobs, and work hard on their music through the years, dedicating time and effort to their visions. Formed in 2009, Kyoto Protocol’s probably my favorite Malaysian indie rock band. They now have a new album ‘The Pen Is Mightier’ (2018). Caracal has changed out its members too, and now has Rachel Lu on vocals. The band released a new EP ‘Take It Apart and Put It Back Together’ (2018). It was refreshing to hear the band’s vocals and new sound live on stage.

Glad that these two bands rocked out the Powerhouse for the final time. The Powerhouse, as the largest pop-up stage for Baybeats, will cease to exist after this year. It sits on the site earmarked for Esplanade’s new S$30 million 550-seat waterfront theatre. I dunno what can replace the Powerhouse. It’s gritty and grungy. People moshed and danced. That’s the only stage in this fancy venue that manages to somewhat re-create the vibes of a rock gig. Bands who fear a big stage, fear Powerhouse. I’d like to think that the Powerhouse has nurtured many bands to go on to play at bigger stages. I dunno if there will be a new Powerhouse next year. I dunno how Baybeats will be refreshed and reshuffled due to venue constraints. Let's see what Baybeats 2019 brings.

No More Cover-Ups?

Grimly watched the #MeToo movement unfold, with a mixture of happiness, relief and horror. Has it taken this long for it to find a voice? The Catholic Church isn't above it either, and it shouldn't be. There is a long history of systemic abuse of parishioners and children that it can no longer ignore or sweep under the carpet.

Many many abuse cases are coming to light and they refused to be quashed. Pennsylvania is reprehensible and repugnant. The Washington Post's 'Why the Vatican continues to struggle with sex abuse scandals' written Chico Harlan, published on 12 August 2018, asks some hard questions that the Vatican will not have easy answers to. There're many documented reports and case studies through the decades. As much as the Vatican wants to keep a low profile with regard to investigations and verdicts, they can't. Everything's out in the open now. It is Pandora's Box. (More articles here, here, here and here.)

How widespread is the abuse? This is certainly not confined to the traditional Catholic cities in Europe and the US. In fact, it doesn't even have to be restricted to the Catholic Church. Where organized religion (or a political system) exists, abuse will happen. Do we not already understand that human nature is very different from attempting to conquering ungodly desires and behaving in accordance to what decent society expects? I'm not going to comment on anything else with regard to Singapore and the region. Here's an extract from the WaPo article, and I will just leave this here.

In an interview published last year with the Corriere della Sera, Cardinal Gerhard Müller, then the head of the doctrine office, said the Vatican already had the "tools and legal means" to handle cases. Vatican watcher Marco Politi said congregation members and others in the Vatican hierarchy were also concerned about opening a "Pandora's box." 

"This would mean hundreds of cases that would then bounce back to Rome with a huge media impact," said Politi, author "Pope Francis Among the Wolves," a papal biography. "It would signify the beginning of hunting season on culprits. 

In turn, Francise used another method to bolster accountability of the church hierarchy, issuing an apostolic letter that made it clear that bishops could be removed from office for negligently handling sexual abuse. But under the current system, any of the five different Vatican congregations can be involved in investigating bishops, depending on the accused person's role and affiliation within the church, and also on whether he has been accused of coverup or abuse. Coverup cases are handled by the same congregations that help to appoint bishops. 

"It's a potential conflict of interest," said Davide Cito, a canon lawyer at Rome's Pontifical University of the Holy Cross. "That's absolutely an issue."

Second Round of Laser Treatment for the Sun Spots

The solar lentigines lightened considerably after the first laser session. I'm done with the second laser treatment for the stubborn sun spots, and there is indeed more melanin floating up to the surface and crusting over. But it isn't as bad as the first round. Most of the pigment had been broken up and this time, the crust isn't as dark or plentiful. Whewwww.

I think this is the maximum the sun spots can lighten for this second round. There's only so much the laser can do, and it's now up to the AzA cream to work its magic, and my commitment to wearing sunscreen and keeping the face out of direct merciless sunlight so as not to stimulate excessive melanin production. UV brolly, yes, it's now my daily companion. Haizzzz. I'm still taking those Crystal Tomato pills. But I honestly dunno if they truly work.

Again, I cannot emphasize this enough. This is not your run-of-the-mill IPL. Neither will lightening creams fully work on melasma or solar lentigines unless they contain 4% hydroquinone (which I'm highly against) or 20% azelaic acid. There’s kojic acid and such, which work really slowly in over-the-counter products; these are ideal for clear skin or those with minimal freckles or spots, and won’t be able to address a worsening situation of melasma or solar lentigo. Do not do laser treatments at so-called reputable beauty salons or ‘aesthetic clinics’. Go to a certified skin doctor/dermatologist at a skin clinic and get a proper professional opinion.

There's one more treatment to go in September. This third and hopefully final treatment is crucial since the dermatologist needs to not over-treat it. The cluster of melanin can come back if we're not careful. Then she will decide on future courses of action. I'm thinking of using non-ablative laser treatment to aid skin renewal. I'm not big on facials or super pricey skincare products. I very much prefer using pharmacy products that won't irritate the skin or cause allergies to flare, then pop in to the clinic every two or three months to sort out a I don't have deep wrinkles yet, or deep pitted acne scars, so ablative laser treatments aren't needed. A Medlite C6 treatment sounds good for future sessions. 😉

The Pilates Thigh Stretch

I think some gym instructors call it the 'kneeling lean-back'. I know it as the 'pilates thigh stretch'. It can be done on the Mat, Cadillac, or on the Reformer. It's a simple exercise that works a lot of muscles in a short time. If I don't feel like planking, I will do this. My pilates instructor uses this as a 'bridging exercise' between tough movements, especially if I've been utilizing lots of arms. It's supposed to be my 'rest' as I work the core even more in another position.

When executed correctly, there should be zero stress on the lower back. It should be kept straight and the hips, ribcafe, shoulders and neck should be all stacked up in a straight line. Straight back down, straight back up. This movement works the thighs, the core, and the glutes. They will burn. If I don't make the abs and glutes help me and rely solely on the quads to do the work, it can almost as though the quads would tear. LOL.

Thigh stretches on the Reformer feel easier because I'm holding on to the straps; it inspires my pilates instructor to make me go even lower. "Butt to heel!" is the standard command. The straps on the Reformer help LOADS. The difficulty is in holding the position when you lean down low. PAIN SIAL. I could go as long as I want, but getting up is where your muscles die. Keeping the carriage still as I go through the reps is always a huge challenge.

Nam Seng Noodle House

To be honest, I'm not too taken by Nam Seng Noodle House's Singapore version of Cantonese wonton noodles. I prefer the version that has thinner noodles which are curlier, and more QQ. I can't appreciate Nam Seng's sauce which leans towards the sweet side. I prefer something salty. But the stall's wontons and shrimp dumplings are good. I like its gentle usage of minced pork and the generous sprinkling of water chestnuts. I don't mind its char siew since it's the lean sort and not the fatty type. But it's pork, so I try to palm off as much of it as possible to fellow dining companions. I really only go for noodles only when I eat wonton noodles. I eat here because of Madam Leong Yuet Meng, the face and heart of Nam Seng.

Madam Leong Yuet Meng still works at the stall, tirelessly. She takes orders and serves customers right up till today. She speaks Mandarin, but she's most comfortable with Cantonese. She's 89 this year. Or is it 90? It’s amazing that she has stuck by her chosen job. She started the stall way back in 1957, and is known for her wonton noodles, although the stall also offers hor fun with seafood or venison, soy sauce chicken noodles and fried rice.

No matter what, she turns up at the stall daily, and whenever I visit, she's right there at lunch-time, standing at the counter, all hunched and wrinkled, but still steadily placing many bowls onto customers' trays. I have so much respect for her work ethics. As long as she's still fronting the stall, I will continue lunching here.

Nam Seng Noodle House (南生)
25 China Street, 
#01-01 Far East Square, Singapore 049567
T: 6438 5669
Hours: Weekdays 8am to 7pm; Saturdays 8am to 2pm. Closed on Sundays.

Getting Lunch Boxes

That day when the carpenters were fixing shelves and all at the new flat, and after the briefing and eyeballs on angles and height of shelves, I left them to their work, and was fixated on the MacBook clearing work. It was a full day's work; at midday, they took a break and went out to buy lunch. They even asked if I wanted anything. Nope, I had eaten, and I had my coffee. All good. Went back to stare at the MacBook to pound out work essays and emails.

A week later, it hit me. A whole week later... 😔 I CAN HAZ ZERO EQ SOMETIMES. OMG. I FORGOT TO BUY THEM LUNCH! I should have reimbursed their takeouts! The carpenters weren't even hinting, and were simply being nice when they asked if I wanted food, since I was gonna be around the whole day too. 

Luckily they returned again to fix up my acoustic door (for the music room), and little corner shelves, I handed the foreman cash for lunch and kopi today, and to reimburse him for the last time. "Paiseh!" I said. Hahahah. Perhaps it's unnecessary, but to me, it's a MUST. They didn't blink when I borrowed their caulk gun to seal up things. They offered to help, but when they inspected my work, they decided that I could fend for myself. Ha! For all their rough talk and yelling at one another, or talk like they're gonna start a fight, they're always unfailingly polite to me. MUAHAHAHAHAH. 

My contractor's hires (and even the wallpaper workmen whom I sourced from another shop) for all the jobs, are Malaysians who currently live in Johor Bahru. They drive in daily to Singapore to work. It explains why their work day onsite usually starts at 10.30am and ends at 7pm. Food options at the coffeeshops around this area costs about S$4.50 to S$6 for a meal of say, point-point rice (every cuisine has a version).  That averages out to be RM$15 per lunch box. A McD's takeout meal upsized plus delivery charges is about RM$50/SGD17. (A 'Mega Mac' burger in Malaysia now costs RM$15.40/SGD5.20.) Hefty. 

The workmen are helping me shape up the flat into a livable space. It's hard work. It's manual labor, it's hot and dusty. They eat on-the-go. The least I can do is to buy them three lunch boxes out of 1095 meals in a year.

Lechón at Don Lechon

These crazy people wanted to eat lechón at Don Lechon. I was like, WHUT. It's got ZERO nutritional value again, and for once, I cannot get behind this method of cooking pig. I'm not into fats or crackling skin. #SorryNotSorry The table isn't unfamiliar with Filipino food. When we go diving often enough in Filipino islands for two weeks at a go, we tend to exhaust dining options in the remote villages, and are fairly familiar with mainstream Filipino dishes.

Usually for these types of dinners, I'm there for the company. I'll either eat something beforehand, or eat something else after so that I don't starve. So I still went along for fun, and booked a table for all of us. Don Lechon does answer queries via WhatsApp and only takes reservations for large groups. I was completely tickled that they replied me with sentences half in Tagalog. Had to ask help with translation!

You really need to like roasted suckling pig to eat at Don Lechon. And welcome fats, oil and salt. There isn't any other food offered on the menu. Steamed white rice is served with the meats, but the broken grains are kinda clumpy. The eatery is super casual. Outdoor seating only. Lechón is usually roasted and ready to be served by 6pm. So go early if you can. It's sited on the external shop unit of Grandlink Square, facing the tiny strip of Geylang River. Tonight, we ordered the standard lechon sisig and chopped lechon. Nobody ordered bopis leh. Chehhh. I was a wee bit curious about innards, and wouldn't mind stealing two bites from someone's plate. Hurhurhur. Also had two pots of sinigang na lechon to share. Washed down by cans of coconut water on ice.

Walking Between The Raindrops

T.C. Boyle is one of those writers whom I've stashed into the category of American Literature- books that I don't read for fun. Hahaha. Oddly, I wasn't as tortured reading his works as it felt for some other writers, since he writes mostly short stories in prose style. 'World's End' (1987) is definitely not too painful to plough through.

69-year-old T. Coraghessan Boyle's new book 'Outside Looking In' will be out in September. He writes about self-discovery, creativity, LSD and the 1960s. In the wake of the completed novel (that the world hasn't read), he has written a number of stand-alone essays in its wake, and 'I Walk Between The Raindrops' is one of those.

'I Walk Between The Raindrops' was published by The New Yorker's issue July 30, 2018 in its Fiction. Set in Southern California, the essay drew inspiration from the author's experiences of being caught in the December 2017 Thomas Fire that engulfed Ventura and Santa Barbara. Brandon and his wife of fifteen years, Nola, went to Kingman for a short getaway. Along the way, Brandon recalled the misfortunes of others, and if he had a part to play in those, and seemed to try to deflect some sort of inner guilt. That turned into four other subplots.

These four subplots came in four incidents mentioned. (1) There's randomly Serena, the woman in the bar (who claims to have ESP), and is fixated on Brandon. (2) That led to him remembering the recent wildfires and mudslides in their hometown, and how storms devastated their town, but he and Serena were okay, and they felt guilty for being alive when others died. (3) He recalled Serena's volunteer work at the local chapter of the National Suicide Prevention Society, and the many stories she had experienced, and one poignant one of a co-worker Blake who befriended a depressed caller, nineteen-year-old Brie, and in the end, took their lives together. (4) The last incident is almost hilarious. Brandon and Serena tried to matchmake two of their oldest friends, Fredda and Paul, who are both plus-sized. They hosted and cooked a dinner in their California home, and while that was a success, the matchmaking attempt was a disaster.

Did Brandon really have a part to play in other people's misfortunes or feelings? One definitely did, for sure. That failed attempt at matchmaking. People shouldn't intentionally matchmake anyone. That's dumb. That's what the friggin internet is for, with Facebook being the most archaic but still useful platform. Written in first person narrative, readers will have to decide if protagonist Brandon, is a reliable narrator.

I was standing there at the bar, my change in my hand and the next tune coming on to bury me in the moment. Someone popped a balloon. I looked over to where Nola was sitting at the table still, admiring one of the pewter serving dishes she’d got for a steal at the third antique store on the left. What did I say to the bartender, finally? I don’t know. Something like “Wow.” But it was Valentine’s Day and it was all on me: the poor disjointed E.S.P. woman rejected by a man she didn’t even know (and didn’t have the faintest inkling of how deep and true he ran, except, I suppose, on a paranormal level) and feeling that there was just no use in going on living without him. Hold on to that for a minute and tell me about the fathomless, inexpressible, heartbreaking loneliness of life on this planet. 

Are you shitting me? Holy sweet Jesus, save us! Save us all right now!

Supermama's Akoya Pearls

@supermamasg

I'm quite fond of Supermama's products. A good number of items are also ideal as gifts. They're well made, and try to keep to the original spirit of the makers. That's something our retail scene lacks in terms of originality and innovation. As and when the designs and their quality are something that catch my eye, I support our Singapore shops and brands.

Supermama recently trotted out their range of cultured Akoya pearls from Ise-Shima. It sounded really fun. I'm iffy about pearls, the same way I'm not into jade. Pearl necklaces are an accessory I totally avoid. I'm not inclined to spend a lot of money on items that I don't particularly fancy. But I suppose a small little pair of earrings is inoffensive and can be kinda fun.

Popped into Supermama that afternoon to have a look. The range of pearl jewelry is rather limited now as they didn't make a lot to begin with, and they had sold many since its launch. But there's a pair of earrings in small-enough pearls set in gold that's pretty. It isn't quite me, but wearing it once in a while is okay. Bought it. Also picked out a pair of earrings for a girlfriend who's suddenly into pearls now. Heh! These are encased in silver. Spent some time mulling over which pair suited her better. In the end, the luster of the pearls made the decision.

Unagiya Ichinoji :: 鰻家一の字

The man recently came back from Tokyo gobsmacked by the food. He has gone to Tokyo many times on work trips, but the recent two trips were the ones he truly had time to ditch big names and touristy draws to explore little shops or famous enough quality eats. Well, he's now armed with a full list I drew up for him, and he even bravely ventures into unknown little restaurants because he knows he can either send photos of the menu for me to decipher, or put me on the phone with the server. I'm his concierge to call and make restaurant reservations (which I'm hesitant to do so since his schedule is unpredictable). WIN LOR.

Among all the delicious stuff he inhaled on this trip, he came back raving about freshwater eels, unagi (鰻, うなぎ). He has never tasted such well-treated unagi in his life that came as courses paired with sake. He wanted to find a restaurant offering something similar in Singapore. I literally laughed in his face. DON'T HAVE LAH. Pay many money also cannot find.

While I prefer anago, I’m not averse to unagi; I'm just very picky and rather not eat them in Singapore because I haven't found a restaurant that does it the way I love.

The man had tried a few restaurants that claimed to serve good unagi and had come away unsatisfied. Tonight he decided that we should try our luck at new-ish Unagiya Ichinoji (鰻家一の字) at Robertson Quay. It's the Tokyo restaurant's first overseas outlet. Their eels come in from Indonesia. Apparently the restaurant doesn't take reservations, but on the week day night we went, there wasn't a crazy queue out of the door, and it was half empty.

The man ordered the eel fins and liver, and had the main in Nagoya style (hitsumabushi, ひつまぶし). He didn’t mind the food that turned up, but of course it was nowhere near the exquisite standards of Ryo (翏) in Tokyo. Please. You can’t even begin to compare. With only nine counter seats and I think six at the tables, Ryo (翏) also plays alternative and indie rock music as background. Good taste abound! 😉 At this less exciting restaurant in Singapore, I chose a safe dinner set that offered the least amount of grilled eel—in Osaka style (mamushi, 鰻まむし飯). Like I said, I wasn’t expecting any pleasant surprises. The yamatoimo (Japanese mountain yam, 山芋) was disappointing. Never mind, as long as there were eggs and potatoes, I was happy.

Onward Singapore!

I’m a little bit more interested in this year's National Day Parade (NDP) because of its Creative Director Boo Junfeng. Themed 'We Are Singapore', every thing seems to be a throwback to the yesteryears, including the irony of remembering old playgrounds, only after they've been demolished.

At the very least, I’m keen to watch Boo Junfeng's ten-minute film that featured everyday Singaporeans. The social media and themes that went out for this NDP told the stories of Singaporeans across different generations. As Singapore moves forward, we have to be acutely aware of how diversity can unite or divide us.

Friends, neighbors, acquaintances and families. We don't all stand on the same page on many viewpoints when it comes to social causes or political opinions. This is getting increasingly loud, vocal and a little worrisome. Can we learn to disagree without fragmenting society and its demand on conformity? Can we agree to disagree without having to bend to the will of majority or what conservative voices dictate? Can Singapore remain tolerant to differences of race, religion, culture, lifestyles and world views? Can we avoiding sinking into the traps of our own echo chambers?

While we can remain calm and hear out differing viewpoints, we will have to have concede that we'll never stand on the same page. I need to accept that you will never agree with me, and you will have to accept that I won't ever attempt to understand your finer arguments. We wouldn't have unnecessary social contact after lines are drawn though, and in future, we would simply acknowledge one another's presence, and no farther. We would not be any closer other than recognizing one another as nice fellow Singaporeans who live in a different social sphere. In a Venn diagram, our paths will never cross voluntarily, save for attending mutual friends' events. But you and I will have to suffer one another's presence in this country we call home. Can this be done peaceably, and with civil and polite discourse?

For the first time in many years, I didn't cringe at the NDP theme song, which is a surprisingly well done remix of 'We Are Singapore' (NDP 1987). It isn’t unenjoyable. I like it! Happy 53rd, 🇸🇬. Majulah Singapura.

Red, White & Blue

Ran smack into my dinner date when I exited a store. She was just stepping off the escalator. What good timing! We were supposed to meet at the restaurant! Then I started laughing. It’s gotta be slightly more than serendipity when we turned up in matching colors and an exact fit in how we chose to wear them.

We were both in white tops paired with jeans of different hues. I had wanted to carry a maroon bag out in the morning, but that was stashed so deep in the wardrobe that I gave up and took this more accessible light brown. If I had brought that out, it would be picture perfect! For some reason, instead of our usual casual flats and loafers or track shoes, she was in a jaunty pair of slightly more formal flats with a pom. She totally intended that to match her bag. It was a work day for me, so I was in heels. And we rarely wear pointy shoes! Wheeeeee!

Both of us like our wardrobes more functional than frilly. Okay she can do frills better. She doesn’t mind lace and eyelets and such, and she has the height to pull off many more styles. So it was kinda randomly fun that we chose this entire combination without prior discussion! Hahaha. I forgot to ask, but we were both likely to have been dragged out to National Day observance ceremonies and celebrations at the office (separately). Still. I’m sure our outfits had nothing to do complementing the upcoming National Day. There’re a thousand ways to wear red and white, and we hilariously picked a similar style. Hurhurhur.

腊味盅仔飯

You know my weird thing about pork right? I'm not at all keen on the meat itself, but I'm less opposed to its innards. Hahaha. Minced pork porridge is fine, but only if that minced meat is super well-minced. I will have pork sparingly in the form of spam or luncheon meat, pig stomach soup and lupcheong (Chinese preserved sausages).

I'm also bloody picky about lupcheong. Currently, my favorite flavors are all provided by Hong Kong shops, and only a few local restaurants give me similar flavors. I haven't had lupcheong much this year. I usually cook it myself during oshōgatsu, the Lunar New Year period or around my grandfather's death anniversary. But this year, I just didn't feel like doing it. So I made it up by having two bowls of cured unhealthiness in a commercial kitchen.

Asia Grand Restaurant at Odeon Towers is one of those casual restaurants that provide the familiar taste of Hong Kong Cantonese dishes done well. There's a 腊味盅仔飯 (lupcheong on steamed rice) on the menu. It charges S$10 for a bowl, and is fairly generous. The entire bowl is steamed together upon order, so it's about a 20-minute wait for it. It's a ridiculously simple dish, zero nutritional value and probably full of processed crap, but it's tasty. Hurhurhur. All you need are uhhh damn good quality preserved sausages. An oxymoron, I know.

This isn't a dish I can eat at night. Indigestion lah. Having it for lunch is perfect. The restaurant served up a delicious bowl (gotta be shared among two persons) of 腊味盅仔飯, my first for the year. Super satisfying. It included the liver sausages (膶腸, which is usually duck, but some are pork) too. Asia Grand Restaurant's version offers no mushrooms or vegetables, and nothing else. Just a complete assault of nitrates. Heh. When I visited the restaurant the following week, I just had order this again. Blinked when it was served. Waaah! The second bowl was overflowing! They were sure feeling super generous that afternoon. Luckily it was a big bowl to be shared among four people. All right, that's it, lupcheong quota of the year fulfilled.

Asia Grand Restaurant (亚洲金阁)
331 North Bridge Road
#01-02 Odeon Towers Singapore 188720
T: +65 6887 0010 (Reservations necessary)

'Rainbirds' in Akakawa

Clarissa Goenawan's 'Rainbirds' (2018) has been sitting in the unread pile for a few months. Managed to read it before it disappeared into a strange pile of unread books that would only be discovered six months later. Oof. Okaaay, this book isn't unpleasant to read. But it isn't enjoyable to me. Not a genre I'm keen on, and the plot isn't arresting enough. As a whodunnit, it's too draggy. (Reviews here, here and here.)

Keiko Ishida is murdered in a fictional rural town of Akakawa in 1990s Japan. Her younger brother, protagonist Ren rushed over to understand his older sister's recent life and quietly investigates her murder in order to understand her life in the last few years. Ren and Keiko were very close as kids, but after Keiko left to live in Akakawa and Ren began his university life, they kind of grew apart a little.

In Akakawa, Ren begins teaching at the cram school that Keiko taught at, and stayed at the home she lived in with Mr and Mrs Katou, a prominent name in town. The couple had secrets of their own too. They weren't involved in Keiko's death, but they knew what happened to her prior. I really don't know why the author threw in the side plots. In re-tracing Keiko's steps, Ren hopes to find salvation for himself (and his love life) and his relationship with his sister too. Some parts went off tangent for a bit, as though meandering through without a real purpose except for the characters in the book.

Love, unrequited love, misplaced love and all that run through in the book, making it just that tad annoying for me. But I suppose that's how all of us teenagers were back then, and even now, for those of us unable to figure out our emotions. The hidden aspects of Keiko's life, her relationships and one that left her broken, unfolds through Ren's dreams, a little girl pigtails, encounters with various characters who flit in and out of his life, and a final eventual piece of puzzle that helped him understand Keiko's life in Akakawa supplied in the form of documents from a now defunct clinic where Keiko terminated her pregnancy in the second trimester. In the end, he confirmed his suspicion that Keiko was his half-sister, who had returned to Akakawa to find her birth mother, but failed. By the end of the book, Keiko's murder wasn't exactly solved, but Ren let it go and chose to return to Tokyo after finding out what he needed to know. It's perhaps hinted, in the form of a missing woman, Keiko's lover's wife.

To be honest, I hated the man. I wanted to beat him senseless, but it would only disgrace my sister's memory and offer him atonement. I didn't want him to think he could pay for his mistakes by taking punishment. Let him drown in guilt instead. 

As much as I wanted his wife to be caught, I couldn't bring myself to go to the police. I still felt the instinct to protect Seven Stars, who'd done nothing wrong and had now lost her mother. Her parents' actions going public could ruin her life, and Mr. Nakajima's involvement in everything could remove her father, her only remaining family. I knew how hard it had been to grow up alone, eating alone at a table for four, going without parents to school ceremonies, having no one to share osechi on New Year's... The last thing I wanted was to subject Seven Stars to that same loneliness. 

And, deep down, I knew I would go to any lengths to protect my sister's honor, even though I would hate myself for it forever.

Back At Cardio Classes

Work and renovation had occupied most of my sane time slots, leaving me unable to hop in to the cardio-intense classes at the gym for a good two weeks. But I managed go to all the usual Pilates and Reformer classes. Wooohooo. Nobody was traumatized by my newly lasered crusty spots. Hurhurhur. I'm less conscious of them this round since the crust formed isn't as dark. The melanin has largely been broken up during the last round, so this round is to clear up the remnants.

Finally resumed the cardio schedule. I know my fitness level wouldn't drop over two weeks lah. But stepping into a familiar tough class still felt a little scary. Had slacked off on doing many daily press-ups. Hahahaha. Today at boxing-cardio class, burpees and mountain climbers greeted me at warm-ups, followed by a zillion press-ups, punches and kicks. It was kinda fun that every face was a familiar face in this class, and obviously nobody was a newbie...... so damn, the instructor upped the intensity and pace, and went to town with us. Wooohooo.

I threw 'em fierce and fast punches. It was good to punch the shit out of the sandbag. Had latent anger that needed diffusing. 🙃 At the end of the 45 minutes, I wasn't sapped. It just felt like an awesome workout. Much needed. Perhaps it was because of the familiar faces and grins all around, there were some great vibes going on in this class as we grunted through some truly terrifying versions of press-ups and planks. It felt incredibly wonderful.

使用する日傘

The second round of laser treatment for the solar lentigines is done, and I still need to hide under brollies. I'm supposed to call them 'parasols' since they're meant for shade from the sun. Duhhh. Apparently I don't own any parasols that break up UV rays. But hiding under a brolly is better than none right? So for the first two weeks after the first laser session in July, I just used whatever brolly available.

J couldn't stand my laissez-faire-ness, and insisted on loaning me one that actually protects against UV rays. She owns a number of higasa (日傘) and said she could easily have one stay with me for a bit. She passed me one in a pretty PINK, with frilly edges and polka dots. I was mildly horrified; used it thrice, refused to carry it and stole traded for another black polka-dotted version from her. 😆

The black higasa is beautiful, and I really didn't want to hang on to it forever. If I have to carry a brolly, then I might as well buy something decent. Luckily the man was in Tokyo, and he had a pocket of time to go to Tokyu Hands to get me a few decent higasa. This is a hot hot hot summer, and the UV-cut umbrellas are out in full force at the malls. He had plenty of designs to choose from. He didn't troll me by getting any frilly lace nonsense. He found three decently-designed ones (in my usual color palette) that are supposed to cut out 90% UV rays. These higasa aren't small, but at least they're lightweight and very well made.

Returned the beautiful black higasa to J, and used my own. This is her only one in black, and she loves it too. Heh. I have to get used to lugging an extra accessory around now. Pfffft. After lunch on a blazing hot afternoon, we put up our higasa and sauntered down to check out Keepers at National Design Centre. Wheeeeee.

Pasta At La Strada

Made it to lunch at La Strada. But my schedule for the day turned topsy-turvy. Instead of a whole afternoon of hanging out with G, I had to zip off after the hour. Sooo glad that she didn’t mind and accommodated the shorter date. #friendship

It was another trying day, and this lunch break was much needed. An hour to rest the brains and mind. Space to unwind a little and chat with G. The restaurant’s lunch sets are still good. They also offered specials of the day. I haven’t visited for a while, and could never make it there at dinner. At lunch, the food seemed to have remained very decent. I really liked the menu that afternoon.

We shared appetizers of burrata and sweet roma tomatoes, and a smoked trout salad. Was considering having a fish, but the kitchen didn't have sea bream that afternoon. There was red snapper but the pasta always wins. Hahahaha. I needed comfort food- that meant carbs and pasta. G wouldn't say no to pasta either, so we both ordered that. No sharing! The homemade egg tagliolini with summer truffles hit just the right spot for tastebuds and tummy.

Wall Hooks

When I met the contractor's carpenter, within 15 minutes, I knew he would be reliable in terms of using good quality materials and experienced builders. He understood loads and weight distribution, but he wouldn't have any sense of aesthetics. His recommendations, basically, sucked, suitable for television stage sets stuck in the hostels in the 1960s.

So I took a stronger lead in terms of design for the carpentry work needed, right down to the nitty-gritty, and even to the extent of suggesting mounting options for shelves. The one room that I wasn't that fixated on, is the utility room. It's a fairly standard utility room! I thought I would dictate all that I wanted, but left one thing to him. And that would be installing the wall hooks.

A few (rectifiable) screw-ups here and there would be forgivable. But even in a room so small, he screwed up cutlery drawers, among other things. But this was quite ultimate. SUPER HILARIOUS. I wasn't even annoyed. I literally stood there and laughed for a whole minute. I couldn't believe he thought this was okay! Am I being trolled? I asked for hooks on the wall to hang broomsticks or whatever. I got these:

I was like, SERIOUSLY? I complained to my contractor. He hadn't seen it yet. He replied me with emojis. He was just as amused, horrified and rather stunned. He immediately went out to buy me some proper hooks to replace this piece of fugliness, and told me that he'd scold the carpenter. Oh yes, please do. Duhhhh.

As the renovation and carpentry work progressed, I was even more persnickety about being present at  the installation of cabinets. Let's just say that it was a good judgment call to watch the carpenter's men at work. Imagine if his workmen went along with his instructions, and I'm less vigilant, I'd have keeled over at the end results. I would totally make him un-install the various unlikeable things. We would have gotten into dumb and unproductive arguments about costs and compensation.

Well. One can't account for another's sense of aesthetics. 😐🤷🏻‍♀️ I was really thinking of having hooks along these lines, with images sourced from Pinterest.