"...I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible." (Harry declaring his love to Sally in "When Harry Met Sally")
"Awwww......" It sounded rather romantic, my heart nearly melted as Harry finally declared his love for Sally after countless arguments of how a man and a woman can never be friends. Past the 100mins of forbidden love among this pair of awesome friends, and the audience (me included) could only root for both to come to their senses and give us a good run for our money.
Is forbidden love sweeter? Let's dissect the equation: time ticks, couple has obvious affections for each other, pride or some strange g-forces in the form of heart-wrenching opposition stops them. Forward it to some time later, in one innocuous Wednesday night, they meet again and realised that 1 more minute is going to a big waste if they don't hold each other in their arms now. The audience coos and the curtain falls.
What if on that innocuous Wednesday night, Sally gives Harry the lowdown- that she's already married/seeing someone else, relocated, drifted apart, turned gay, taken the vow of celibacy? Should forbidden love come with a warning that it's not for the faint-hearted, because as much as the tear-jerking bittersweet feelings it brings, the bitter will outshine the sweet when all is lost.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Saturday, February 16, 2008
The Amazing (Waterhole) Race
When my cool 22 year old cousin asked me what the pubbing/clubbing scene was like in Melbourne, I sheepishly smiled and could only spewed out 4 alphabets 'eh, ok'.
Pride aside, I've never got myself to check out any of the bars or clubs in my years here. Other than a few visits to some random bars led by friends, I was more accustomed to scratch the base off my leftover cheesy pasta bake and sipping vintage (7-day old leftovers) wine on a Friday night than to put on my Friday best and attempt to beat the cacophany.
But a woman's got to do what a woman's got to do. Before she can no longer fit into her slinky party dress and 3 inch stilettos, she'd better bring herself out there to 'check out' the scene.
After lining our stomachs with a lovely Jap meal at Kuni, the first stop was The Croft Insitute. Hidden in an long-winded alley filled with water-puddled cobberstoned floors, endless walls of graffiti and dumpsters, the 3-storied hospital-themed pub leaves you with a different 'sensory' experience. Beyond the dingy lane, a lady sitting on a desk with a study table lamp collects the cover, and you are then greeted by a shelf of laboratory equipment. We ventured upstairs to explore the quirky toilet, aptly named as Department of Female Hygiene- with operating theatre lights and gurney thrown in. An old wheelchair is suspended mid air at the waiting area for patients. After a Cosmo and Manhattan, and a few jives at the Raggae music, we had work to do- our quest to find where the nice pubs/clubs are.
Past the opening act, we also did our rounds in The Deanery, whose classiness contrasted with the quirky Croft, and Robot next door- a smallish but noisier area to mingle on a summer's night with friends.
With so many bars/clubs to choose from, we decided to be more strategic and went west-wards the city. There were a few hit and misses, with Bond looking rather promising on the cards, but was a tad too quiet for its James Bond velvety glam and cavernous space. We were after all, the pesudo-happening party creatures of the night, albeit for the most time, we acted like bar reviewers working undercover for The Age's Epicure.
Moving on towards the North West side of the city, we headed towards Golden Monkey- depicted as the old Shanghai with lots of rich reds and blacks. Awarded the "New Bar of the Year" in 2006 and "Bar of the Year" in 2007, this basement establishment cocoons little boxy spaces for lounging customers to sip that sexy Single Blossom or Green Tea Cognac. The added bonus was that they serve pretty decent "Asian Tapas" to placate our slightly growling stomachs.
It was midnight, but that didn't stop us from adding Gin Palace to our list. My sane partymate exclaimed 'brothel!' when we stepped past. Went for a walkround of the premise, and it was quite a cozy size, rather stable with no particular theme to its decor. Gin was suppose to be their boisson-du-jour there, but I was determine to keep my sobriety. On the way back, we popped into Croft Institute again, stripped our 'reviewing' persona, and took some candid incriminating candid shots of the not-so-glam us in Croft Alley, ending our 5 hours impromptu jaunt in bid of arming ourselves with some useful conversation tidbits of the Melbourne clubbing scene...
BRING IT ON!!
The Croft Institute
Department of Female Hygiene
Golden Monkey
Scavanging for food at Croft Alley...
Pride aside, I've never got myself to check out any of the bars or clubs in my years here. Other than a few visits to some random bars led by friends, I was more accustomed to scratch the base off my leftover cheesy pasta bake and sipping vintage (7-day old leftovers) wine on a Friday night than to put on my Friday best and attempt to beat the cacophany.
But a woman's got to do what a woman's got to do. Before she can no longer fit into her slinky party dress and 3 inch stilettos, she'd better bring herself out there to 'check out' the scene.
After lining our stomachs with a lovely Jap meal at Kuni, the first stop was The Croft Insitute. Hidden in an long-winded alley filled with water-puddled cobberstoned floors, endless walls of graffiti and dumpsters, the 3-storied hospital-themed pub leaves you with a different 'sensory' experience. Beyond the dingy lane, a lady sitting on a desk with a study table lamp collects the cover, and you are then greeted by a shelf of laboratory equipment. We ventured upstairs to explore the quirky toilet, aptly named as Department of Female Hygiene- with operating theatre lights and gurney thrown in. An old wheelchair is suspended mid air at the waiting area for patients. After a Cosmo and Manhattan, and a few jives at the Raggae music, we had work to do- our quest to find where the nice pubs/clubs are.
Past the opening act, we also did our rounds in The Deanery, whose classiness contrasted with the quirky Croft, and Robot next door- a smallish but noisier area to mingle on a summer's night with friends.
With so many bars/clubs to choose from, we decided to be more strategic and went west-wards the city. There were a few hit and misses, with Bond looking rather promising on the cards, but was a tad too quiet for its James Bond velvety glam and cavernous space. We were after all, the pesudo-happening party creatures of the night, albeit for the most time, we acted like bar reviewers working undercover for The Age's Epicure.
Moving on towards the North West side of the city, we headed towards Golden Monkey- depicted as the old Shanghai with lots of rich reds and blacks. Awarded the "New Bar of the Year" in 2006 and "Bar of the Year" in 2007, this basement establishment cocoons little boxy spaces for lounging customers to sip that sexy Single Blossom or Green Tea Cognac. The added bonus was that they serve pretty decent "Asian Tapas" to placate our slightly growling stomachs.
It was midnight, but that didn't stop us from adding Gin Palace to our list. My sane partymate exclaimed 'brothel!' when we stepped past. Went for a walkround of the premise, and it was quite a cozy size, rather stable with no particular theme to its decor. Gin was suppose to be their boisson-du-jour there, but I was determine to keep my sobriety. On the way back, we popped into Croft Institute again, stripped our 'reviewing' persona, and took some candid incriminating candid shots of the not-so-glam us in Croft Alley, ending our 5 hours impromptu jaunt in bid of arming ourselves with some useful conversation tidbits of the Melbourne clubbing scene...
BRING IT ON!!
The Croft Institute
Department of Female Hygiene
Golden Monkey
Scavanging for food at Croft Alley...
Monday, February 04, 2008
Feeling Beachy
28 degrees with no sign of blue skies,
lazy afternoon without a plan,
2 assorted nuts released from a sealed can.
Somedays, I find Melbourne so amazing. You can be listening to a sermon on church vision in the morning, and lying in the sun-soaked sand dunes listening to sounds that conjures another kind of vision in the afternoon. Close your eyes and listen to the sound of the waves work like little machines making strong 'whrrrillll whrrrilll' rhythms, and I momentarily drift into a sort of blissfully dreamy state.
I blotted out the occassional people and excited dogs that came into the picture, and the sea kept beckoning me. Unable to lie still any further, we ran towards it, as if to embrace the big waves like they were two welcoming arms. I jumped a few waves (almost deliriously by now), but the waves got even more enthusiastic, producing a rip that attempted to coax me further out to sea. In between being caught up by the tug of war between the waves and the rip, I was trying to catch sight of the necessary hero to ensure that I wasn't going to be condemned to be the eternal mermaid of Anglesea.
'Welcome back' rang through my mind as I tucked into a hungry meal at A La Grecque- a Greek-Mediterranean restaurant that have both good food and service. The quail I had and the chargrilled rib eye I tasted was really flavourful, unlike the 'sourness' I've grown to associate with Greek food. Yummilicious! Something to end the day with, since we were not able to catch a sunset.
lazy afternoon without a plan,
2 assorted nuts released from a sealed can.
Somedays, I find Melbourne so amazing. You can be listening to a sermon on church vision in the morning, and lying in the sun-soaked sand dunes listening to sounds that conjures another kind of vision in the afternoon. Close your eyes and listen to the sound of the waves work like little machines making strong 'whrrrillll whrrrilll' rhythms, and I momentarily drift into a sort of blissfully dreamy state.
I blotted out the occassional people and excited dogs that came into the picture, and the sea kept beckoning me. Unable to lie still any further, we ran towards it, as if to embrace the big waves like they were two welcoming arms. I jumped a few waves (almost deliriously by now), but the waves got even more enthusiastic, producing a rip that attempted to coax me further out to sea. In between being caught up by the tug of war between the waves and the rip, I was trying to catch sight of the necessary hero to ensure that I wasn't going to be condemned to be the eternal mermaid of Anglesea.
'Welcome back' rang through my mind as I tucked into a hungry meal at A La Grecque- a Greek-Mediterranean restaurant that have both good food and service. The quail I had and the chargrilled rib eye I tasted was really flavourful, unlike the 'sourness' I've grown to associate with Greek food. Yummilicious! Something to end the day with, since we were not able to catch a sunset.
Mmmm... I came home tired, but felt so recharged to start my week with a purpose again!
Postscript: In retrospect, the rip was actually quite scary because at one point, I felt the drag below me was much stronger than the waves that push me to the shore, and I couldn’t feel the ground below me.
Postscript: In retrospect, the rip was actually quite scary because at one point, I felt the drag below me was much stronger than the waves that push me to the shore, and I couldn’t feel the ground below me.
The beautiful stretch of beach at Anglesea