When I woke up and saw the blue skies...

I know people use the topic of weather during small-talk, but when the weather change, I really feel my mood change as well.

We had a bout of warm weather yesterday. It was nicely warm and sunny, and it made me miss the beach. I remembered how there was no where else I wanted to be last summer, just the beach, beach and more beach.

It's not really summer yet, but yesterday's weather was probably a nice sneak. I was recovering, but still ended up doing a long walk in the morning, and another run in the late afternoon.

Today, I ended up still feeling a little under the weather, and while hiding under the sheets with my heater turned up, I'm wishing that I am rugged up sitting on the sand watching the waves and sunset instead.

Till another blue skies day...

Faith like a mustard seed...

If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, "Move from here to there" and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you. (Matthew 17:20)

Mum was relating an incident that happened to her recently. One of her acquaintance told her about something she was praying for. Both my mum and her friend are not Christians.

Mum: "I tell you something incredible. My friend told me that she actually prayed to Jesus to grant her a job, and that this job be situated near to a Buddhist temple so that she drop in during and after work.. Can you imagine her shock when she really got a job, and there was a really huge temple nearby? And I don't believe she actually had the audacity to pray to Jesus about it. If your Jesus really did answer her prayer, he must be the most gracious God ever."

We laughed at how incredible it was and agreed that she owed Jesus a great deal.

However, Jesus did answered such a seemingly contradictory prayer; Mum was right, Jesus has to be a ridiculously gracious God to do that. She showed me something that I never saw from my own Christian eyes.

And her friend, though not Christian, knew which God to pour her heart's desires to, totally disregarded the probability of how this silly prayer will be answered and prayed with conviction for her prayer to be answered. She'll attest today that it was Jesus who answered her prayers.

As I was reading the above verse tonight, I ask myself how I approach God for His help. Too often, I fall into the tyranny of analyzing the contents of my prayer, if it was a prayer God will answer, if it's right to pray such a prayer, if I was 'against His will' praying this, if the answer likely to be a 'No', then I might not pray it. I've complicated prayer too much.

Come with faith like a mustard seed, and believe that nothing is really impossible for God, even silly ones. His graciousness is beyond our understanding.

Sick...

Finally succumbed to it... I've fallen sick.

Must be God's way of letting me mindlessly sleep in peace, and get some much needed rest.

I feel like a car right now - the only way to raise an alarm is when it refuses to move any more. Have been pushing myself in every aspect these days, popping panadols just to get through the day without calling in sick. Decided to get off work slightly earlier today to take a hot shower and nap through the evening. Feeling awfully chilly.

Time to sleep again. The car really needs a rest.

For a special person...

I still kept the few old sms that reminded me of how the friendship blossomed. This friend doesn't get enough mention in this blog, because it always seems like there are so many other opportunities to express appreciation.

Someone who has been with me, saw the highest and lowest, listened to me, laughed with me, and even after the many many days and months we shared together, I never got tired of spending time with you.

Friend, if you are reading this blog, just want to tell you the gratitude I feel when I think about you. Even in the rather low moments, my heart doesn't feel totally defeated because I know you are close by.

Thank God for bringing us together. I am really blessed.

Have I grown stupid?

I really like this verse: "Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight" (Proverbs 3:5-6).

Although common, this verse springs out a different way at me every time I meditate on it when I'm confused. Why am I told to trust in Him with all my heart and ignore my head? Aren't feelings like shifting sands and the mind more superior to the heart?

Out of curiosity, I read the verse preceding: "Let Love and Faithfulness never leave you... write them on the tablet of your heart" and then realised, "Wait, I can never trust God completely if I simply depended on my head". Over the last few years, the facts I came to know of, the signs I witnessed, the outcomes I experienced, can never compel me to surrender all to him. Someone dies, another marriage broken, disappointments, unanswered prayers, dashed hopes, love betrayed... how can I possibly and logically leave my future with God? My mind sees and analyses facts, but it is my heart that is attuned to perceiving God's heart and His love.

Where do you hide your love and faithfulness? In your head or in your heart?

A random sweet song...

Got a habit of repeating the same songs over these days. I was listening to 'I'm Yours' by Jason Mraz and caught this song 'Lucky' from the same album as well. The lyrics fine, but it's the tune and the duet that makes it such a sweetie.

Landing in the Wrong Land...

Have you ever had an idealized version of a life, relationship, family, spouse, job, and yet you got derailed in that vision? Though not exactly disastrous situations, you are caught between stomping your feet crying 'no no no, that's not what I've wanted!' and accepting a not-so-ideal.

I was reading Mark Conner's blog, and was moved by this poem "Welcome to Holland" written by Emily Pearl Kingsley, a parent of a special needs child.

"I am often asked to describe the experience
Of raising a child with a disability,
To help people, who have not shared that unique experience,
Understand it
And imagine how it would feel.
It's like this
When you're going to have a baby,
It's like planning a fabulous trip to Italy;
You buy a bunch of guidebooks and make your wonderful plans-
The Coliseum, Michelangelo's David, the gondolas in Venice-
You may even learn some handy phrases in Italian.
It's all very exciting.
After all the months of eager anticipation,
The day finally arrives.
You pack your bags and off you go
Several hours later, the plane lands,
The stewardess comes in and says
'Welcome to Holland'.
'HOLLAND!?' you say. 'What do you mean, Holland?
I signed up for Italy.
I'm supposed to be in Italy.
All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy'.
But there has been a change in the flight plan.
The important thing is
That they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place
Full of pestilence, famine and disease.
It's just a different place.
So, you must go out and buy new guidebooks.
And you must learn a whole new language.
And you will meet a whole new group of people
You would never have otherwise met.
It's just a different place.
It's slower paced than Italy;
Less flashy than Italy.
But after you've been there for a while
And catch your breath,
You look around and you begin to notice
That Holland has windmills;
Holland has tulips;
Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy,
And they're all bragging about the wonderful time they had.
And for the rest of your life you will say
'Yes, that's where I was supposed to go;
That's what I had planned'.
The pain of that will never, ever go away,
Because the loss of that dream is a very significant loss.
But if you spend your life mourning the fact
That you didn't get to Italy,
You may never be free to enjoy
The very special, the very lovely things about Holland."

Snowy Weekend

We've got quite a good snow season this year. After bumping my head silly in spring snow last year, this year proved to be a less painful experience. Furthermore, Dan has arranged a good trip with great people, nice accom, and hordes and hordes of food.

I'm glad I didn't waver in my choice to drop snowboarding for skiing this year. The soft snow makes digging into the snow easier (not to mention falling on your face is quite a breeze too). The other 'smart' thing I did was to get myself enrolled in 3 hours of private lessons. As much as that meant I have to survive on instant noodles and bean sprouts for the next few weeks, it brought me up to speed and within a day, I found myself doing the J-turns and trying to link a few turns- after which you can officially call yourself a 'snowboarder' instead of a 'tumbling snow eater'. Click here if you are new to what I'm talking about.

The only downside is that Mount Hotham caters more to the Intermediate and Expert skiers, and the very very downside is that my snowboard crush of last year would still be in Falls Creek. So there wasn't a smitten kitten at the end of my lessons as Chris my South African instructor was only too keen to earn my extra bucks.

I inherited two amazing big blue blacks, but otherwise, I'm quite happy that it's a giant well-faced again. I seriously won't mind going for another trip before this season ends, but the 5 hours drive up there is a big hold back.

Well, till the next snowfall again.

When love is a decision away...

I am the baby of my department, and I hang out with the ang moh 'uncles' for lunch, people in their 40s-50s who are married with growing/grown up children.

One of our favourite lunch topic is our views of marriage. It's interesting to see how they met their spouses, how it all started with love or even physical attraction, and how all of them agree that their spouses have grown differently from when they first started. Graham the 55 year old laughs at the tiff he had with his wife the night before (and you know they'll patch up in no time), and Grant still calls his wife every lunchtime and calls her 'darling' after 20 years of marriage.

It makes me wonder in light of a few divorces that are hanging around me, if love is sustained by interests/similarities or a decision to want to make love work. My fren Nel said that one of the things she admired about her husband when they were dating is how he never saw the exit door as an option when things don't turn out well.

Over the years, I've been in good and bad human relationships to develop my personal outlook on love. As much as I can be emotional at times, I love not because I want love returned in that same capacity, or do I give as much as what someone deserves. In the last few months, I thank God for teaching me how to love beyond what I'm usually comfortable with. It's easy to love what you like, when others do things your way, share your similarities, and anything that doesn't go against your grain of things. I know I can also succumb to an easy relationship of being loved, but I will come out none the wiser about my capability and capacity of loving.

Love is a challenge. In every quarrel, disagreement, irksome differences, there lies an opportunity to extend my ability to love.

Is love about similarities, or is it more a decision of wanting to be challenged to grow your love as wide as to cover differences?

10 to 1

I promised Daisy this... the 10 most often used aussie words/phrases to use in various social contexts.

In no particular order of usage
1) He/You make me uncomfortable / As long as you are comfortable with it
2) He/you are annoying
3) He is like/ it's like / I'm so like...
4) Fair Dinkum
5) Beauty! / Gold (nothing to do with beautiful woman or striking gold)
6) Reckon (I reckon it gets used a lot to express our thoughts)
7) 'Happy' to do blah blah blah.. (I hail from a country where no one can possibly happy to do any 'work')
8) Chuck a sickie (My all time favourite and someone's going to do that on Wed)
9) Heaps (a lot, many, much)
10) Whinge (complain)

One Happy Post

There were two thoughts of the week that got me thinking... that mmm... it was all worth it.

I was spending the last 10mins of my work reading a list of prayer requests from Singapore. They all sounded stressed. There I was, preparing to go home on the dot.

Then a friend back home commented to me that sometimes life seemed to be a cycle of working hard, resting and before you know it, Monday is back again. There's just no reprieve to it.

Tomorrow is Monday again. Yet I do not feel like I dread going to work. Over the weekend, I went to watch Hamlet at the Arts Centre, went to the hairdressers, had a Spanish dinner, went to church, dropped by the art gallery, and watched 'Definitely Maybe'. Exactly a week ago I was throwing snowballs at Lake Mountain, and trying to do an Edward Scissorshands with heaps of fresh snow falling down on me.

I have been really enjoying my weekends, and I feel really in bliss to be able to enjoy all these activities. At the risk of sounding airy fairy, it's not so much that I will be unhappy in Singapore, but I'm glad I can walk to work every Monday without feeling the heaven-to-hell difference.

The winter is cold but my heart's nicely warmed.

Thanks to the necessary hero who's larger than life to me today.

It's been a long while....

Can't whip out the lengthy tabloid version, only the ticker tape version of how life has been for the last couple of months.

Beautiful things: Saw a lovely sunset at the Mornington, climbed the Pinnacles @ the Grampians, saw yet another sunset there. Took numerous walks at the Botanical Gardens and Fitzroy Gardens, catching the autumn leaves as they fall. Went to the NGV for the Modern Britain and Black in Fashion exhibitions.

I ate like a whale too. I was stuffed with food at Apte, Bistro Guillaume, 312, Green Refractory, Money Order Office, No 3 @ Station Pier, Ocha. Great food all round, tonnes of calories, horrendously loved.

Winter, though commenced 1 month back, has finally arrived. Feels so cold!

At the Grampians









(In case you are wondering why the fish is stuck to the pics from the Grampians, Blogger has altered its formatting that makes it hard for me to add multiple pics now. It's 1am and I'm too tired to figure it out)

Things that happen in the dark...

To run over or not to run over? That was the question a friend of mine asked me while we were driving in the countryside of UK where animals often cross paths with speeding cars. I know my frivolous answer will be 'depending on whether the animal is cute'.

I've never ran over any animal in all my trips, altho Larry has collided with a bird, stopped in time for a water buffalo and a wallaby in Northern Territories, and I have in other instances, tail-gated sheeps and wombats.

But what about going head-on with a cute koala bear? To be fair, I could not tell if it was 'cute', but it was sitting lazily in the middle of the windy curves of Great Ocean Road, and my night rider was driving his 100th time on the familiar same stretch (read: speeding), and in a split second, I saw it right in our path, staring at us, and while I let out a short "eeeeeeeeeeeeks!", I could hear the sound of 'wham, bam!'. Shocked, I did not dare contemplate how it could have survived the impact, but swerving was not an option along this treacherous coastal stretch in pitch black darkness. Assessing the damage, the number plate was dented, the plastic covering it was smashed and the plastic underneath the car was scraped off. I wondered if Mr Koala died without pain, hopefully the absence of blood and gore proves it.

Other than this almost macabre incident, it was a nice day in Lorne. I love being near the beach, waking up to a relaxed feeling, having an outdoor brekky at the Arab, and popping into the unit to read and rest and out again to walk along the falls, rivers and art galleries. We finished with dinner at Ba Ba Lu - a spanish restaurant with a band playing jazzy-type music while we indulged in grilled optopus, chorizo with caramelised onion jam and a mushroom and rocket entree. I love it!


Illustrations for the more visually inclined- the view from the car by day and by night:

I'm in denial again...

I'm back into the in-denial-about-my-CPA phase. I found a midnight game of Scrabble to be more interesting, (I won!) and we played our 2nd challenge on the rooftop on an Autummy Melbourne day. Unfortuntately, 'Autummy' is not a real word, and even more unfortunately, 'Launders' is... and according to the rules of Scrabble, using all that 8 tiles allowed my opponent to gain that 50 bonus points that made me contemplate either jumping off the roof, or pushing him off.

Had a meal and jaunt at The Maling Room after the game and really enjoyed the Serrano ham, an nice latte and a homemade quiche. Yummss.. smacks lips... Maling Road in Canterbury is quite an attraction in itself, with art galleries, fromagerie, boulangerie and chocolaterie in rows of Edwardian style shophouses.

Past the daylight savings hours, I'm now nursing a porterhouse steak, rocket salad, earl grey tea, soy bean milk and a 'bao' (bun). Oh, did I even say I didn't have to cook any of that! I lurrve it!


The 1st Scrabble Challenge

Armchair Holiday

I spent the last hour ignoring my CPA notes and was instead, taking an armchair holiday. At last count, I was at Fairhaven watching the 4 metres waves crashing up the shoreline. I wanted to take a little trip somewhere before I start on my new job, but everything happened so fast that I'm only left with this weekend.

It's been a month since my last trip to the beach, although it feels way too long. Come think of it, it'll be nice to be sitting in the quiet night right now with the sound of the waves and the crescent moon shining above, tracing silvery paths of the little twinkling stars in the utter darkness of the night isn't it?

The last time I did that, I was lying on the beach till 3am, counting 22 shooting stars that flew by.

I have to be dreaming...

Losing to Gain

"The best boundary against giving in to bad relationships, less-than-satisfactory relationships, or bad dynamics in a good relationship is your not needing that relationship." (Boundaries before Marriage- Cloud and Townsend)

I don't mean divorce, break ups or the actions to take against a bad relationship. As I thought about what to write to a friend over the weekend, I know she was not seeking my advice as to 'what she should do', but rather, how to 'think' when you feel that you are in a relationship gone wrong. I flipped through "Boundaries before Marriage' for the 3rd time, and my eyes remained on this line. I partially liked it because I do like ironies- one of my crazy quirks, but most of all, I thought that is a good line to reflect upon even in my own relationships.

Over last year, I only found courage to confront a friend after I decided not to 'need that friendship'. It was a very good friend I'm talking about, but I was beginning to feel that there was an imbalance in how we give and receive in that friendship. 3 months of silence and 3000 kms later, we had a very frank talk about how we felt in the relationship, something we never done over the 18 years of friendship. I knew I stand losing a valuable friendship if she had walked away during that silence, and I could have allowed myself to harbour feelings of being compromised and keep the friendship for the sake of it. It is an irony that it was only through not needing the friendship that I found myself reclaiming a better friendship in the process.

Not needing the relationship doesn't mean that you no longer care about the relationship, or that you should take the first boat/bus/tram out, but it simply means you are no longer holding yourself hostage to the relationship by needing that relationship so badly that you forget the reason why you were in that relationship in the first place. At the thought of losing, you are happy to settle for form over substance, not realising how it would return to gnaw at you later.

Reflecting on that line as I finish writing that letter, I found out that the difference between playing first and second fiddle is possessing courage and faith- courage to lose, but faith to claim the better.

Made a shortbread...

I just made a shortbread for Easter. Anyone wants a slice?

How to add a dash of fun...

It's the place that makes an outing fun, but it's the people who makes fun possible.

That was the conclusion I made after last Saturday's trip to Monsalvat. It was a lazy afternoon, 2 people just got off work, 1 was fully charred and I was as usual, a happy tripster. It was suppose to be a larger group outing, but I'm glad Dan kept it going.

In the end, it was quite a funny trip. I like the old French architecture, the rustic little artist workshops, the art galleries, right down to the rusted metal wheel sitting next to a whitewashed cobwebbed wall. The fun part came when everyone took turns snapping silly pictures of ourselves, just to compensate for the heat that attempted to dull our enthusiasm.

I'll let the pics speak for me... It's been a long week and I have procrastinated this entry till now!

Waiting Part 2..

If waiting is the time between prayer and revelation, is there an attitude to waiting?

I was drained out during the whole of yesterday. For the first time, I was being called to seek God's presence many times, yet never knew why I was drawn to my knees each time. Later that day, I got to know that a friend's mum was on the verge of death, and I was desperate and wanted someone to pray with me. I thought about who's around but ended up emailing the necessary hero to pray. Nearer the end of the day, I still felt that drawing feeling. Prayed with Tracy via long distance phone call before I could get to sleep.

24 hours later, my friend's mum had managed to pull through the night. I also received a call from a recruiter who informed me that he's going to pass my resume to some companies (this was after a very disappointing meeting with his colleague who did not look remotely interested). I continued to ask God what yesterday was about- I was drawn to reflect my own attitude of waiting recently. I have gotten anxious with the actors in a play when the producer/director is the one determining the pace of it, and the bigger revelation being that if I want to be fearful while waiting, I am handing myself a death sentence of a different kind, prayer or no prayer.

In retrospect, the reason why I found 'Waiting' (the book) beautiful was also because Shuyi the ex-wife waited with faith, for there was no mention of her fears or the troublesome psychology of 'what-ifs' despite going through 18 years of impending divorce. I believe that was what Lin saw when he chose this 'peace of mind' over love.

Waiting becomes a peaceful anticipation when you wait in faith, but turns into a hungry beast that devours you when you wait in fear.

Waiting...

"Yet one thing he was certain about now: between love and peace of mind he would choose the latter." - Waiting, Ha Jin

A man waited for 18 years to divorce his wife only to finally find out this truth about his true love. He thought that time tested love would reveal its own spectacular glory once realised, only to conclude that "he had never loved a woman wholeheartedly and that he had always been the loved one". In his drunken stupor, he asked his ex-wife if she would wait for his return after his current wife dies. The ex-wife subserviently agrees.

I enjoyed this deceptively simple book, the breadcrumbs remnants on it would probably hint that I didn't put it down for 2 days. The setting was beautifully described, transporting you to the old China during the Chinese Revolution, but despite that, the love between Lin, his longsuffering wife Shuyi and his forbidden love Manna Wu were juxtaposed intricately within.

The book did got me thinking a little about the story. It's a refreshing change from the Hollywood plot, and somewhat challenges the political-correctness of typical notions of love. Is it ironic that in the quest for pure love, the weariness of the journey end up killing this very same love? Is love worth revisiting after going through the ravages of time? Does the notion of forbidden love accentuates our wants so much that it causes us to overlook if it was love in the first place?

A little hard-hitting here for a midnight blog. It was meant to recommend the book for those who might want a simple but thought-provoking book. Not suitable for starry-eyed lovers, but for those who would like a dose of down-to-earth beauty in their romance fodder, this book is a must-read.

I'm now reading "In the Pond" by the same author; my hunch is that it will be less heart-wrenching than Waiting.

Ode to Summer

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I miss the beach...

If Harry didn't meet Sally...

"...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.

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...

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.

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.

The beautiful stretch of beach at Anglesea

Loving only as a response...

We loved Him, for his first loved us.

Imagine a couple quarrelling about who love who more, with each digging out the many things they have done to prove their greater love. Who wins? The one who loved first.

I think the more amazing word in this sentence is 'first'. I never knew how risky it is to acquaint this word with 'love'. It's easy when you are at the responding end of someone's love, like the way we grow up with the assurance of our parent's love. We meet friends we like, then we love. As we grow older, the slope gets steeper, as we look at the person we like and wonder? Will he/she return that liking? Google "Does he like me" and you'll get 22,000,000 hits ("Does she like me" gets 12,100,000). From the stats, we want to know before we make another bad move, another wasted day, another broken heart.

I never knew how hard it is to stand at the tightrope of uncertainty when we have to love first.

My Blueberry Nights

Coming back to Melbourne is always a Luna Park roller coaster ride, nothing crazy, but nothing short of ups and down. When Cindy and I returned prematurely for summer school in 2005, we made a pact to meet up for dinner that very same night, barring all possible jet lag or homesickness. For the first few days, your activities, friends and geographical familarity takes a little adjustment, and the faster you get back to sipping those flat whites and sunning yourself on the beach, the better the return gets.

I had my "welcoming adaptation kit" of true blue aussie blueberries, yummy brekkie, the gardens, and my flat white this round. That would have done the job other that I was sick and thinking about the crazy issues... the reminders of hostility from the workplace and the situation that calls for everything-but-the-truth to be told (because the truth wouldn't cut with recruiters this time), makes it a very pressing ethical/non-ethical reminder. But I'm the cool cat... am I? The test of time did succumbed me to those stress, as with Cinderella at the stroke of midnight. In the last 2 days, I popped 3 imaginery sour blueberries consecutively, forgot the other sweet ones in the punnet ... even the giver of them all.

Countdown- 1 day to go...

I need to get out of here to get better...

Like one of those marathon races, you start slow, pace yourself and when the ending line is in sight, you make a dash for it. I've gone through the rotting-at-home phase, the getting use to the weather, the art of pushing that person in front of you in the MRT, the amazing 10 sms 'conversations' just to confirm a meeting (Try 'What do you feel like doing' for a start, and when you reach "What do you feel like eating', you know you are somewhere near a conclusion)...

And the mad rush of arranging for breakfasts, lunch, dinner, supper has commenced. Had to check out the few new places here- Dempsey Road, Changi Airport Terminal 3, to keep my citizenship. Andrew is currently playing jazz guitar with a saxophone and double bass quartet at Quarubar at Dempsey Road, and it was fun to go by on Saturday night for a catch-up between his sets. The bar is rather spacious, with old-fashion kopi-tiam green mosiac tiles on the floor, but a wooden themed modernity to the decor. The music was lovely, the likes of Chet Baker serenating you as you enjoy a Hoegaarden on tap.

The chronic lack of sleep has also resulted in weird sleeping patterns and a cough that wouldn't go away, and an impending flu. Doesn't help that there's now a packet of fried prawn crackers staring at me, a tin of pineapple tarts in my luggage, the irresistable bak-kwa roasting on an open fire everywhere (and jack frost here is sniffing at her nose)...

The Countdown

4 more days to flying back. The 4th farewell. The reunions are looking more and more like farewells each time I return, because as soon as I returned, I'm talking about leaving again.

Confusing sometimes. The first week of touching down, I felt the physical homesick, and the last week of leaving, I'm lost as to where to call home. Should I take it as a 1 year trip away from Singapore, or as I would always say to the people on the Aussie side, that I'm just going on a 1 month holiday.

Well, depends on where you call home. And as cliche as it may sound, "Home is Where the Heart is.".. and may I add, biblically- where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Sleepless in Singapore

It's Saturday, 1.50am. I have 5 browser windows opened - Zuji, SQ, Qantas, one other domestic flight and 1 forum on how airlines waitlist works. I am close to surrendering my wits (and my money) to the most hassle-free flight, but fighting back regrets of why I didn't book weeks back. The price of air tickets rises higher than history-record inflation, faster than a barrel of crude oil, and the flight is unfortunately, none the speedier. In fact, the later I hesistate, the more stopovers I incur.

Tonight I will clear my head, and tomorrow, I will bite the bullet, swallow the bitter pill... (excuse me for the dramatization, but why did i forget that there was an option of waitlisting 2 weeks ago when i went to ask for the tickets). Procrastination is the mother of expensive lessons, followed by stupidity.

Melbourne, here I come again!

On a crazier mode, I am going to supper now with a friend. This will make my 5th meal of the day... yippee to the calories! Hello Chay Kuay Teow!

Such is the life of a Singaporean.

See you later at dreamland.

Eternal Sunshine on the Rooftop

Imagine rows of randomly patterned deck chairs on top of a rooftop, a wide screen, cheery moonbathers laid out on a 20 degrees balmy starry evening.

Prequel: Dinner at Longrain- shareable Thai cuisine dressed up for the ang moh palates. But it was still fascinating, since the name has been tossed up a few times in conversation with fellow foodie friends. The waitress recommended the trout wrapped in betel nut leaf, and a fried fish with pork chilli jam. Since I am no expert at Thai food, anything nutty/spicy/sourish would qualify as 'Thai'. To add to the authenticity, they offer Tap Water on top of their wide selection of first-world type waters. Will give it 3 Ms (mmm!) since I think they did a good job with the atmosphere, service and the departure from the usual Tom Yam Goong or Phat Thai.

Main: Watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind for a second and a half time (since i did catch it over 40 winks the first time and re-watched the last 10mins 2 weeks ago). The feeling was different, and I did wished I had watched it 'properly' the first time. The artsy part of me is keen to say that it was tactfully done without cheese, and there wasn't any eyeball-rolling moments. On top of that, I can't tell if I liked the romance more, the concept of erasing your memory, or just simply knowing that sometimes love is cherished only after it's been lost.

Epilogue: It's my first time walking around the streets of melbourne at 11pm looking for a place to drink. As if tonight's theme was 'great city views', Transit in Fed Square offered a corner view of the city, quiet candle-lit tables, as well as hot chocs to wind the night down.

Rolling Credits: The necessary hero who managed to orchestrate the big plan at last minute, including a quick survey of happening watering holes, weather forecast, traffic (escape) routes, and the colourfare who acceeded to his request to be part of this lovely night.

Time to be a Snow Bum

The snow came in early this year, but I only started enjoying it.

Went to Falls Creek over the last weekend. Made a quick dash after work, and Jason had planned it nicely for us to crash right after work. After 5 hours drive and a tidy sleep, it was time to hit the slope, and tame those nerves.

Decided that I will dump the skis for a board this time. If anything, carrying 1 board is 1/4 times easier than carrying 2 poles and 2 skis. Not to mention that boarding boots are much softer to walk around with. Barring the physical baggage, there was too much psychological baggage associated with skiing, such as finding yourself few inches away from the sharp drop.

Falls Creek was less crowded and was very pleasant compared to Mt Buller. The lodge was warm and cosy, and Sam was our chef for the trip. The weather was great, we narrowly avoided the gale that stopped the lifts the day before. I had to remove my beanie and was nearly happy to wear just a tank top. Unfortunately, I over-enthusiastically took off my gloves and scratched my knuckles in the process.

The learning curve for the first hours of snowboarding was definitely more trying than skiing. With skiing, you could at least stand up and shuffle along. With snowboarding, the first few hours are usually dedicated to your bum. I must have fell a thousand times until I was too tired to regain my dignified position. Only completed half a real run and a few short ones. At the end of Day 1, all the muscles you never knew you had was aching, you panted on a cold day like you never did before, and being speed-height adverse, I was prepared to find some lame excuse to avoid it altogether for next day.

Day 2 proved to be much better. Although there wasn't a scumptuous breakfast, we went for the Level 2 class. The class was much bigger, 3 instructors and students who behaved very much like nothing can drag them down. Chris, my instructor for the first day was there, and I had to ashamely confessed to him that I still sucked when he asked me how I was doing. As a happy result, he took me and another girl out of the class halfway to personally coach us. He literally turned my bag of nerves into steel, and I was able to be more confident about anything 'toeside' after that. The happier confession was that he ran up the Poma with me, which just means I get to comfortably ride the T-bar lift upslope and he has to do the job of holding my hand, running along and doing a titanic 'I'll not let you go'. Was quite a smitten kitten after that... how can anyone resist a uber cool nitro-boarder with so much patience and fitness to spare?

For the uninitiated of the Poma/t-bar, I love the following description of it, since falling down 2 times on it:
"The T-bar is a cruel joke on snowboarders perpetrated by the skiing industry, but since more and more people with money are snowboarding instead of skiing, these abominations will soon die the hideous death they deserve on scrap heaps around the world. If you do see one the best response is to make a hissing sound in the back of your throat, the sign of the cross with your fingers, and a sharp exit in the direction of a more civilised lift, or possibly a bar of a different kind."

I am now a snowboard convert. Am itching to get up there again but the season's officially over by end of this month. The snow is melting, and it costs an arm and half a leg to go there. Speaking of half a leg, the experience comes with bruised knees, wham-bangs on the head, tailbone and red wrists.. not to mention a sore bum for the not-too-well-endowed.

Such a physical epiphany.

The intellectual epiphany is that I will now grudgingly study for CPA while dreaming of being an aspiring snow bum. I have also since thought of working in Borders/Subway to augment my winter budget.

Awesome blue-sky weather
















From the balcony of Cloud 9 cafe (my fave 'watering hole' on Day 1)
















The girls after lunch

Hanh and I- the only boarders in the group















My bruised knee

One Nuah Weekend

I've been rather nuah this weekend, and it started out on Friday night.

Been feeling sleepy this entire week nights, I think it must be the backlog of midnight snooze and the morning after. Plus met a friend on Mon night and colleague's farewell dinner with lotsa wine on Thurs... flat out!

My good friend sha is finally engaged! And the wedding is next Sat! Gasps.. it does sound like shotgun doesn't it? Nothing of this kind, they have planned the wedding a year back, the proposal only came through this weekend. Zp is going to play the flute as a march-in song, and it was quite touching seeing a video recording of his practice. Guess that fella has a different way of being romantic.

Feeling like hitting the sack again... it's been one rather cold winter!

Break my heart for what breaks yours...

I don't even know why I am hardly angry with the control freak in my office. If I know myself, I should be, even if it's not for myself.

But instead of psuedo-ly staring at the computer screen plotting how to exhaust the last bit of milk before she makes her coffee, my heart was turned to what happened during the weekend.

I was unintentionally thrown into a conversation with 2 friends. While it wasn't a bible-bashing session, I thought one of them was being rather unobjective, claming that a 'slick marketing ploy' was used to lure her into Christianity, and how she finally saw the light and got out of it. Who you choose to believe is your perogative, but re-pledging your allegience and biting the hand that feeds you during your down-time, and attempting to persuade others to think on your side is principally despicable. Of course, the other friend was happy to claim that there's no point in believing in anything, because doing good works will be her passport to heaven/happiness etc.

One day later, I bumped into a friend in church. This is a not-too-close friend whom I've been praying for his cancer to just leave. He's 30, newly married, and after a merry-go-round of ups and downs, he's been given 6 months to live by doctors. Even if I don't know him that well, it's surreal to have someone you know to be hit by news like this. I was in a 'no-you-must-be-kidding' stage, thinking that I'll see him well soon. He walked up to me, said Hi, and I asked him how he was. He told me that the doctors have all given him the bad news, but "I'm still beliving for the best and that I'll be well". At this point, I really do want to cry... I don't know where he got his faith from, why he's even in church, but I tried to maintain a happy face. I asked him what he's doing, and he was occupied with buying a new bible for his mother. I now know why the people who visited him came back and related his story with tears in their eyes- not the sad kind, but 'I-really-don't-know-where-he-got-that-kind-of-strength-from' type of tears.

Surely this sick friend has not placed his last bet of life and death on a marketing ploy, nor is he hoping to rely his hope for living by getting more good works done.

"Break my heart for what breaks yours...."

How My Day Begins...

7.30am: First alarm rings... (slaps snooze button)
7.45am: Alarm rings again... (turn on itunes to listen to 5min news by BBC via podcast)
8.00am: Stand and stare at wardrobe wondering how to vary winter clothing.
8.20am: Pack for what seems like a ridiculous pinic outing (aka: lunchbox, fruits, yoghurt, breakfast, to bring to office).
8.30am: Leave house.

That's when the adventure begins. First I'll walk past the smell of espressos, lattes and flat whites at the italian cafes along Lygon street, and the tempting cakes and breads. If I have a gold coin to spare, I'll go and buy a chocolate scone from Bakers Delight- freshly baked! Then I'll walk pass some little parks, lots of victorian houses, and finally pass the stretch of RMIT uni, cross over to Melbourne Central for 2 floors of window shopping, and if I'm a minute late for work, i can cut pass Myer and pretend to speed-shop (and enjoy the heating)... And finally dart under the Commonwealth Bank building, slid and slide down the underground parking at the back lane, and arrive at another day's of work. 2.6km worth of travelling, and some calories burnt.

12.30pm: Lunchtime at the Galleria@ Commonwealth bank building, since it's winter now and the outdoors aren't worth spending time at. After a quick lunchbox lunch of whatever-was-yesterday's-dinner, Claudine and I will go in search of adventure (part 2). Frozen yoghurt at Myer? Or coffee at degraves? Hot choc at Brunettis? Kaypo-ing at David Jones Food Hall? Go browse cuilinary books at City library?

5.30pm: It's dark and cold. Retrace morning walk. Think about what to cook for dinner, and lunch tomorrow.

Sounds like work is an adventure everyday isn't it?

The Foggiest Day in Melbourne

Epi-not-curious

All things food for this long Queen's birthday weekend.

I'm so stuffed with food I really don't know when to start. I just had brekky at Mart 130 (Middle Park), following the reviews of the breakfast blog. The corn fritters that I had was fresh, the rows of corn kernels stuck together reminds you that it was fresh corn off the cob, not out of a bag of frozen corb nibblets. Evie had the Pancake with caramelised bananas, but she preferred the oatmeal pancakes we had at Cafe Sweethearts a couple of weeks ago. I was as usual, cheery at the sight of the black speckled vanilla bean cream that can only scream of pure vanilla bean- from the $4-a-tiny-pod, not the $2.50-a-bottle. (Forgive me, I'm not a food snob, but there's nothing more vanilla than those from vanilla beans- essence hardly counts.) Yuan had an omelette, but he was not impressed with the sourdough that came with it. The genovese coffee is average and fluctuates according to the barista, the verandah side of the converted tram-station was scenic, and the parking was a breeze. Although the breakfast blog gave it a 19/20, I'll have to let Cafe Sweethearts gain the upper hand with their stellar poach eggs with hollandaise sauce- value for money too if you order it with oat pancakes and bacon.

And since I'm at the breakfast topic, Cafe Sweethearts has the added draw of the South Melbourne market. I bought a sell-by-weight tub of cocoa to make hot choc (oh, I'll review hot choc the next time) and some apple chips. The cheeses there are drop-dead cheap if you want to consume it really soon, and there are aged meats for the 'ing cheem' (picky) steak-snobs.

Back to the long weekend. Communion extended from church to the Yarra Valley. I was quite determined to visit the Yarra Valley Dairy again, since the last time we stumbled upon it with melbie pals Cindy, Clara and homepal Edwin. This time the Persian Fetta was unavailable for tasting, and there were too many soft goat cheeses for my liking. The last time, Clara and I had 6 years of Pinots lined up in half-glasses when we went. This time, I was introduced to the wines of Yarra from the boutique wineries. I know I ranted about the lousy Chandon and large-touristy-nice-packaging wineries the last time I came. This time, my favourite has to be the 2002 Gembrook Hill Sauvignon Blanc. The Jamsheed Shiraz was also commendable. Both tasted much flavoursome than the earlier cellar door tastings at De Botoli and Yering Station.

My rechargeable batteries for my camera has gone kapuk. This will explain why there's hardly any decent pictures to complement the narration.


Mart 130

















The Corn Fritters and Bacon I had

A Little Surprise

It's just one of those old fashioned things that still warms my heart. I came back today to see an envelope on the table, evidently with Nel's handwriting on it. It's was for no particular occasion, but I think she's being really sweet about things, to send me a cute card with photographs that she took- of us three, of her trips to Japan, Taiwan and Korea. It stopped me on my tracks as I got home from a tiring day, with no dinner nor housemate in sight.

Ever since I came here, every little post means a lot to me. I still get them often from good friends, and nel, sha and jocelyn are the ever-faithfuls. I hope I'm not too emotional when I say that sometimes tears do well up in my eyes when I see them, especially when the day is long or it's just one of those lonely nights.

The Tribe

I made some cupcakes for someone's birthday last week. There were some extras, and I was at a loss at who to give to. They were gorgeous Bill Granger cupcakes with white chocolate icing, and the texture of a soft buttery cake good enough for an nice afternoon tea. Of hand, I could think of a few, but I wished there were the kind of friends who truly know who your thoughts are with when you give it to them.

And my thoughts were transported to miles away, where there's a tribe waiting. It's a few ex-colleagues whom I've been very close to while working there- people you share 2 hours lunches with, who sits with you over those weekly ops meetings, people who took annual trips together with, and those you hung out with eating durians and watching midnight shows, or playing Risk over New Year's eve with... people who gave me a blown up photograph of our kelong trip for me to take to Melbourne... and yes, we even had a 'Tribe' t-shirt...

I called Ah Ong, we talked and laughed... she can read my thoughts, and we can switch from serious to candid... she's been my travel partner to Australia, NZ... then there's Small Man, my Saturday soulmate at chijazz, my arthouse movie buddy, my breakfast and supper partner... there's Larry Cool who's really getting excited over our Darwin trip and I'm excited to hear that he's excited.... and Mok Mok who gets on ur nerves everytime with his por-ma, but is really a caring person deep within.

I don't know if I'll ever have friends like these in a workplace here. It's been 3 years since leaving and I still get a present sent to me on my birthdays by these wonderful people. I always thought God has been over-generous in the 'friends' department, and I really felt the loss when I am here.

I know if I had made those cupcakes in Singapore, I'll have no problem giving them away. In fact, I'll have to think of making more to give to people I really want to give.

Here's one for The Tribe. I miss you all :(

Hope

"In the depths of winter I finally learned there was in me an invincible summer."-Albert Camus

He walked into church while the congregation has already worked the beat. I wasn't sure if I saw the right person. Few moments later, he walked out and 'picked' her, leading her to the pew. From few pews back, I caught a glimspe of her whispering to his ear, her cheeky but lovely smile was far from the reaction expected of wives with a husband going through cancer. Just married recently, bought a house, they have just started on their dreams of a happily married couple. The cancer came like a hurricane, moved in fast, destroyed everything on its path, left no stones unturned, the bad news pelted down one after another, and beyond the fuzziness of their happy courtship memory, the focus now are only trips to the hospital and the operating table.

I believe God will do what He needs to restore him back to health, beyond all reasons, medical findings and probabilities. This is hardly being religious nor faith, for why would anyone need to believe in the doom and gloom? It's already there. Ask the punter in the casino why would he bother to lay the bets when the reality is, the casino always has a higher chance of winning (the '0' on the roulette wheel)... You have to believe in something- in luck, in your red shirt, in your four leave clover, your lucky day.... and I believe in God.

Last week the pastor at church talked about being in the furnace. A day later, my dear fren Sharon forwarded me daily devotions from her church. It strangely spoke of the exact same things. There are the 'facts', the 'truths' and the 'lies'. The 'facts' are what the world presents to you, without any apologies (ask the guy with cancer, the childless couple), the 'truths' are the promises of God that He loves all his people, and nothing is impossible for Him, and the 'lies' are what Satan likes to fill you with to makes you feel like there's no difference living or praying or hoping... you literally feel like 'hell'.

I believe it's the truth that I saw in church this morning- that smile on her face. It must have been a very difficult smile, but an invincible summer lies in everyone who at least has a hope to cling to in the face of adversities.

The Cook and the English

Instructions behind a packet of Mee Suah... (click on picture to enlarge)

I was reading it to Daisy as she was boiling it, really couldn't keep a straight face.

Back to the Jamie Oliver Mood

I owe my interest in cooking to Jamie Oliver. Before I came to cook-it-yourself land, I sat through almost every afternoon watching how fun and easy cooking can be. The only thing I can muster up then is baked salmon with some dried boring herbs that says 'Italian Herbs'. I'm proud to say that I can now tell the difference between a rosemary and a thyme, and the joys of balsamic vinegar and good olive oil.

Unfortunately the workbench of my kitchen is prime property strip, and I am still unable to find space for a food processor, a pestle and mortar, or a pasta maker, or 5 pots and 2 pans (just as my house doesn't have a place for a herb garden, a lemon tree, a free-range chicken farm, a self-dug BBQ pit, a woodfire oven), I haven't been able to do lots of chopping and herb-ing.

Hence, I was pleasantly surprised to find a jar of "Jamie's Green Pesto is Really Tasty" at David Jones Foodhall. According to the lad at the counter, it was my lucky day to get it at a discounted price, and I must say that, together with the equally tantalizing fresh veal and caramelised onions tortellini fresh made pasta, it was a match made in a heavenly friday night. Using the same amount of effort as making Maggie Mee, this concoction went right into the '10 simple cheat dish' list.

After be introduced to pasta paradise, walking past the pasta shops at Lygon Street no longer give me that same sallivating feeling.

And speaking of David Jones, I have been making almost daily pilgrimage there- during lunch, after work... frequent enough to know that they replenish their fresh pasta stock every Thursday, and that the huge-arse juicy scallops cost $49.90 for a kg, and just front of it lies tender juicy sashimi grade tuna fillets at $52 a kg. Not to mention those miniature Asparagus, Radicchio and Cauliflowers that are so small and cute that you thought they were fake plastic ones.

Mmmm.... I found my food paradise. Close to work, clean to shop, beautiful display.

Latest Acquisition: A wok. Hurrah!

Check out the tiny cauliflowers

















Jamie's green pesto is really tasty!

Express Post

This is going to be a quick round-up of the latest happenings, all in a happy handy once-off digest.

Easter has come and gone, and now Anzac day holidays. The next one will be the Queen's birthday, which is real strange, because it changes date every year, and stranger still, her actual birthday is nowhere near that date. But whichever queen or date it is, I'm thankful for her, because there'll be a drought of holiday till November.

Autumn is here too! But due to the other kind of weather drought, there are not much greenery to turn orange and red.

So what is interesting between those pack-lunch weekdays? Venturing into the nicest bank lobby along Collins St, the ANZ banking lobby is possibly the loveliest place to do your banking in. It feels like stepping into an old Gothic church in the 1960s, and the banking counters and lamps feels so old-world!

Just saw the cutest veggies at David Jones food hall- the best place to go to avoid peak-hour human supermarket traffic if you just want to get some greens. There were mini cauliflowers, mini asparagus... imagine, it's the same feeling you get looking at kittens and puppies.

I shan't mention about work, because there is not much highlights, other than the teabags and the friday booze.

Speaking of booze, did too much winery tastings these couple of weeks. First was Yarra Valley, and now Mornington. Did the usual suspects again, but I seriously won't bother with Chandon because it is one tourist-priced (read: pay premium for nice toilets and not-so-great wines), but I still love Montalto's Chardonnay.

And I got a few additions to my life: a flowering plant (Lisianthus) for my nurturing spirit, a car for a social life, a rice cooker to cook rice (of course!).

Time to hit the sack.. nights everyone! Enjoy the random pics.

Pillars at ANZ banking lobby

What lies beneath this mount? Pi Pi and a Crab!

Singapore in Four Weeks

It's easier when I'm writing this in retrospect.

Whenever I returned back to Singapore as a student, it felt like a whirlwind romance- you fall in love, get swept off your feet, and before you know it, it's over. There's nothing sophisticated about it, like the romance, there will be an ending when it's time to turn your back and board the flight.

It does seems like I have a choice to return this time. I didn't do the hungry-ghost "ge tai" rush from one destination to another, because I wanted to take time to savour the times I have with my friends and family. The quantity didn't matter, but to hang out with the people who really mattered meant a lot to me. I could meet them a hundred times and not get tired of it.

I was glad that after 3 years of absence, there are those who have been undying in their friendship and love. Atikah spent countless nights hanging out with me, even though she was hardly a night bird... I had an girly night with Sharon, who took 2 days off just to hang out, watching Dvds till the wee hours of the night, having our pajama party, digging up our old days by visiting NUS, having the Great Jamie Oliver Cookout, egging each other on to buy more clothes at Southaven... Nel who never fails to entertain me with the symbolic prawn crackers and drinks, Tracy who tried to juggle motherhood and mothering me... the tribe who never fails to hound me with late night movies, durians feasting, 2 hours lunches and ambitious holiday plans...

... and of course coupled with my own parents who fed me lots of food, made the house a home to come back to, and just making familar noises that I don't get overseas.

Sharon says that I will forget all these soon when I'm back in Melbourne.

Does the place or the people maketh the person?

That being said, my only grouse about Singapore during this visit is that it is one very very crowded country- there seems to be more cars on the roads, more people on the MRT, more shoppers in the malls, and even the beach is invaded with throngs of campers. At every available space, another handphone shop/food/bakery store is being set up.

I had an eggs benedict at South Melbourne the morning after I arrived at melbourne. Cool weather, occasional sun, and best of all, the streets are almost empty. I can enjoy my food and company in peace.

There's no such thing as greener grass or best of both worlds, only a choice to be made and a perspective to take.

The Great Jamie Oliver Cookout @ Sha's

Moet Night with Cindy and Clara @ Attica.

Slideshow Weekends

The last few weekends, I didn't walk into God's church, but I walked into His cinema, watched slideshows of peace and serenity, witnessed the power of the waves and yielding of the rocks. At times the wind blows colder than the heart, yet the summer warmth attempts to blow some life over it again.

There's a season for everything. As much as you want to rev up the engine, to accomplish, to start achieving, to quicken things, to drum your fingers impatiently on the counter, to wish bad things away, to behold good ones, but yet you find yourself content to breath through the day, sleep another night, pass another day... one day becomes two, days turn to weeks. String it all together, and another season has passed...