Random Thoughts...

Well, I was suppose to blog about last week's travel to New Zealand, but since I'm working on a different laptop now, I can't post up the pics. So just some random thoughts to fill the blanks.

Some week ago, the cell group played an icebreaker answering the question "Who would you like to sit next to in a plane on a long-haul flight? (other than your partner)". In my teens, it would have been some movie star, then in my early 20s, it'll be some cute guy with more than 8hours potential, but the strangest answer that most gave now is "hopefully there's no one sitting next to me so i can have more space!"

I had that dream come true over my recent work trip to Wellington. I had 2 empty seats next to me on my way there and back, a hotel upgrade to the executive suit with a large king bed and 8 pillows to boot (plus a pillow menu with 4 other kinds of pillows to add on), but how many pillows does 1 person need? I had a card to swipe for 3 nice meals everyday, and yet there was just that many times you can muster a 'Table for 1 please' and not get a "pardon?" from the wait staff. For all that's worth, I'll trade all the fancy stuff in for a travelling buddy!

Is there a place for 1 in this world? Are we our best and worse company?

I must say I've been accustomed to both lifestyles. As I disembarked the plane this time, I did felt that I've taken too many solo plane flights in the last decade, with each time becoming more normal and less of an adventure. 

N.B: For the record, I did walk into a noisy Belgian pub and asked for a huge pot of mussels, fries and a beer, sat in the middle of the restaurant, tackled as many of my green-lipped mussels, slurped my Belle Vue Krik, and at no time did I attempt to hide under the guise of being engrossed in a novel/newspaper/text messages. I did score better service with the waitress who probably thought I got stood up by a date.

View from the NZ Office's Breakout Room




































View from the hotel balcony- NZ Post Building

























Weekend Breakfast at Cuba St - Floriditas

Autumn Snow

Victoria experienced a cold snap in the midst of Autumn last week. Besides digging up those winter woolies from the recesses of your cupboard, I dug up those gloves and beanies as well.

Mt Buller opened for the weekend as a result of the snow dump. The Bourke Street run was opened, and close to 2000 excited victorians made their way up for an early pilgrimage.

Besides slight patches of mud/grass threatening to show on the flatter slopes of the run, I am a happy snowboarder again. This time, I am less of a tumblebunny than a snow bunny, so I must say that I enjoyed myself more this time round. 4 years back, it took me 2hours to get down the same run on a pair of skis, but this time took me only 2 mins with the snowboard. Wheee!... Oh, Autumn skiing is very very very hot. If I had my way, a singlet and shorts will do me just fine.

Matthias and Flora came with us, and Flora did rather well, managing the run at the end of the afternoon. There were not that many beginners since none of the facilities were opened. Evidently, there was more snowboarders than skiers, and I stand by my choice that snowboarding is reallllllly more fun! (Thanks to the lighter Burton Board as well.. tsk tsk)

Hmm... this may be the end of snow season for me, even before the real snow season started!

One Last Midnight Post

When do we make a right decision, and when do we make the decision right?

We make the right decision with faith, and we make the decision right with hope.

Faith because we can't see the future. Hope because we can only see the future.

Faith, hope and love. Love is still greatest. It gives strength to the faithless, hope to the weary.

I will try...

I will try to forget the hurtful words
Remember the ones that were beautiful
I'll ask that winds not to weather lines of doubts
And return me to the day I first loved you

I remembered you were my hero
You were strong, yet gentle and kind
I laughed when you were around
Smiled when you filled my mind

I want to be admired
Loved, respected
To also do the same for you
Even if we are both imperfect beings

Flog not the relationship
Blame not the person
Belittle not the other
Think not always about yourself.

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. (Phil 4:8)

Heroic Birthday Trip

My blog hasn't been the most up to date these days. Apologies to those who were caught in between the intermission.

I've got these pictures saved as draft and they dated a few months back. These are the ones taken in end november where I added another count to the Great Ocean Road. Found a cosy little accomodation "All About Lorne" just about the same time the schoolies hit Lorne. Turned out that Michelle knew the owner of this place.

Halfway through our journey, we stopped by Bellbrae Harvest for lunch. We walked away our calories off at Apollo Bay, settling for a great view at Marriners Lookout. Had dinner at Lorne Oven House, and fled away from the noisy schoolies for a quiet night thereafter.

Morning brekky was served at Cafe Kaos, and we walked along the beach to nearby sounds of 'dosh dosh', but packed up soon after to find another piece of paradise. Dosh dosh music really doesn't go with the idyllic beach, and if not for celebrating a birthday, it was probably a rather bad time to head down to Lorne. Neverthless, it was a lovely weather to be there, and it was a weekend well spent.

Our last stop was the Split Point Lighthouse, which recently offered (or re-offered) hourly tours inside the lighthouse. I don't remember having gone into a lighthouse before. It was very windy at the top, but offered a good vantage point to all 360 degrees of the manificient Great Ocean Road scenary.

Came home exhausted but happy. The birthday boy was a litte sick though.


Split Point Lighthouse - hourly tours are available to see the inside of the lighthouse

Views from the top of the lighthouse























Outside the window of our patio at "All About Lorne"

View from Marriners Lookout - a favourite launch sit for hand gliders

My lamb in filo at Bellbrae Harvest

The Melbourne Marathon

Daisy and I decided to do something useful with our legs over the winter. We signed up for the Melbourne Marathon some time back, ran a few weekends away at Princes Park, and we were there to conquer the world!

Before you think we signed up for the full marathon, it was the 5.5km that we went for. Surely we have to start small, and there were a few friends who wanted to all join in. The run was short, but the atmosphere was nothing that short, with Daisy running into the MCG the same time as the Ethopian full-marathon winner, stealing part of his limelight. There are 2 mega screens that beam you as you are running into the stadium, and big crowds watching at the rows.

It was nevertheless, quite an experience. We all agreed that we'll have to move on to 10km next year. After all, the medals are much nicer.


The start point just outside the Rod Laver Arena

















My 'lucky' number



















The finishing stretch before you run into the MCG and have the world cheering for you!





















The happy runners with their medals

The week gone by...

This has to be one of my favourite birthday week in Melbourne. It's the 4th birthday I'm celebrating here, and each time, it's with a different group of people. This year, I had Singapore celebrating with me as we all headed down to the "I love sg" day at Sidney Myer Bowl. I was treated with Laksa, Chilli Crab, Chicken Rice, Hokkien mee (with a huge king prawn), PCK and gang, Dick Lee belting his "Fried Rice Paradise" tunes...all compliments of the Singapore government. My present was a bag full of Glory brand Kaya, Yeo's Satay Sauce, Nasi Goreng sauce, Yeo's herbal drink, a mat, an umbrella, and Singtel threw in a $10 calling card for the homesick. All these for 12,000 people who decided to turn up for free food and entertaiment, as well as old friends from Canberra who flew down to join in the fun.

On my actual birthday itself, I had a fantastic lunch at The Stokehouse facing the St Kilda Beach. I had the milk fed veal fillet with truffled gnoccetti, mushroom ragout, capocollo and foie gras and it was really deserving of the 2 chef hats. The weather was beautiful enough to take an afternoon nap at the beach, finishing up with some chocolate ice-cream, and I even manage to catch Wall-E before it ends its run here.

I had a few surprise presents this year too. Nel mailed me a Care Bear, Sha a piggy motif pouch, I've got a breathing cat and some beautiful paintings.. The tribe decided to send me a silly package of movies, with the silliest birthday card... and Daisy got me a Lonely Planet Japan book to persuade me to head for there in Dec/Jan. Cell Group delivered a surprise when they got flowers delivered to my office, and Terence got a box of chocs straight from the factory of Haighs.

Time to count my blessings.... I thought it almost felt like the usual birthday celebrations I get from home.


I love SG day. PCK and his family were on stage.



















The lovely Ranunculus I got from the cell group

My New Pet

Meet my new pet, he's a ginger tabby and sleeps next to me at night. His tummy moves up and down when he breathes and he makes purring sounds. The downside is that he doesn't wake up, and he runs on batteries.

Isn't he cute??? I'm thinking of a name for him.

Is it time to go...

I started writing this blog as a way of recording the 1.5 years I was supposed to be here.

Have I overstayed? Is it time to leave?

I no longer have very compelling reasons to stay on.

Something happened today that has made me ponder over this even harder.

"Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young— a place near your altar."

The Wrong Kind of Love

In the last 8 hours, I have talked to a divorced mother of 2 who turned lesbian, had lunch with a man who married twice, had a drink with a woman recently spurned and rejected by her husband, and got literally carried off my feet by a handsome gay man who got too excited talking to me about his holiday plans with his partner.

It made me wonder about love. Who's found it, who's lost it, and who is the happiest? Did the right way not worked out and the wrong way did?

When Jesus said "Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends", he didn't try to be philosophical about love. Think of all the reasons for breakups and divorces and you'll only find a coward with a selfish motivation where love has failed to provide for the insatiable "how-can-i-be-fulfilled" appetite- finding a truer love, a better person, an ideal match, a higher feeling. Have they tried expanding their capacity to love, instead of changing their object of love whenever they hit a snag? Would finding that true love make love so easy and so unburdensome that you can skip your way to 'happy ever after'?

From the selfish coward to the unnecessary hero of love-"Unattainability" as C.S Lewis so eloquently put as the essential quality of love, the intense joy that lies in not having but desiring- celebrates the romantic masochist but had conveniently buried the rest who had their heart sick with deferred hope or hopelessness. Let us not forget that "unattainability" was also the same word that seduced Eve to disregard all that God has given but desire for what she could not have in the garden. Real love always hopes, always trusts and always perseveres.

Give me a real hero who will fight for his love in the real battlefield instead of the pseudo longsuffering romeo in his armchair.

Love is an act, a decision and a sacrifice. The others are best left in fairy tales and the cinema (and the bar that I've just walked out of).

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