bali.

bali.

i want to wake to rice paddies
with the mountains standing watch behind
see the morning sunlight streaming in
through the vents of bamboo blinds

i want to walk along the ocean
with the drift woods washed ashore
sit in silence as the sun sets
orange and blue melding as twilight falls

i want to walk on shaded walkways
lined with age-old banyan trees
breathe in the scent of frangipanis
fallen petals amongst my feet

i want to watch a temple procession
transfixing dancers who command our gaze
a mark of respect for both the evil and kind
a cosmic balance of remarkable grace

i want to return to the island
that's held my heart captive all these years
it's an inexplicable longing
one that won't cave in to unfounded fears

and if you are there with me
open your heart and look around
watch the island's gentle souls
feel the pulse of the tourist town

they're still picking up the pieces
shattered shards you left behind
so please turn back and walk away
there's no need for yet another rewind.

Your face it dances and it haunts me.

Your face it dances and it haunts me.



It was not as hard as we had feared, and I dare say it was more enjoyable than those shorter but heatstroke-inducing beach runs we subject ourselves to in the afternoons. Saw several familiar faces, and even bumped into May right at the finish line (instead of the middle as planned, haha).

The start was a bit of a pain with the massive crowds surging ahead, and we reached the 2km mark feeling like we had already covered 5km. Seeing the top Kenyan runner on her last 2km apparently made us imagine we had run more than we actually had.

Chugging along, we finally got into a comfortable pace. We even picked up a new friend Su along the way, who was looking for someone to pace her through her blisters, and the three of us pretty much ran the remaining 5km together.

The rhythmic pounding of the tarmac in a sunless sky was hypnotically therapeutic, and somewhere past the 8km mark, I almost found myself wishing that the run would last a while longer. The sun was mercifully absent, the air smelt of the sea, and the crowds had dispersed so I didn't have to worry about tripping over anybody's legs. It was a great run, and what mattered was that my running buddy and I raced towards the finish line and crossed it together. 1 hour 23 minutes and 10 kilometres of non-stop running, we did it babe. :)

Sadly, I think this would be our last race together, at least for the next few years. She's been accepted to her Tokyo post-grad programme (yay!), and would be uprooting herself next March. I'm not sure if I'll ever find a running/swimming/beach/anything buddy to fill her shoes. I may have to end up uprooting to Tokyo to maintain a semblance of a healthy lifestyle, haha!

On a separate note, yesterday's Flea.Fly.Flo.Fun flea market was not so much a money-making event, but more apt for people-watching. There seemed to be an unspoken dress code of high-waist tulip skirts, and we soon had trouble telling our patrons apart. Whatever profits I made have pretty much been blown on my own flea-market shopping and today's bookfair cookbook spree!

Need sleep, and maybe one heck of a foot reflexology session.

What have you eaten?

What have you eaten?

Since I'm due for a food-writer's interview in about 1.5 hours, I figured I'll calm my nerves when I chanced upon this article. Titled An Omnivore's 100, it lists the types of food you should taste/have tasted at least once in your lifetime. Basically, copy and paste the list onto your blog, bold those you have tried, and strike out those you would never ever try in this life.

I didn't know what many of the item were until I clicked on the links, and it turns out I've eaten half the things on the list without actually knowing their names, haha! Many of the weird eats were actually tasted when I was in India or France. Hmmm. And no strikes for me... surprise surprise. Haha. 53/100.. not too bad.

The VGT Omnivore’s Hundred

1. Venison
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat
42. Whole insects
43. Phaal
44. Goat’s milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine
60. Carob chips
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant.
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake

Anybody up for some horse meat?

Buy a slice of Asia.

Buy a slice of Asia.


Fisherman pants at Anjuna Beach, Goa by Erwin Nah

Dear readers, Lanxi and I would be peddling our wares this Saturday. I'll be selling most of the stuff I shipped/lugged back from India, while I believe she would be selling clothes/accessories from Japan.

Fisherman pants, sarong skirts, Indian silk tops and colored beads. If you fancy getting your hands on any of these at a reasonable price, head on down to:

Singapore Conference Hall (nearest MRT Tanjong Pagar, exit E)
This Saturday, 25 October 2008, from 1pm to 6pm

Spread the word, and we hope to see you there. :)

Running in the rain.

Running in the rain.

The thought of running in the stifling afternoon heat was unbearable after all those afternoon beach runs, so I set about clearing up some work while waiting for a long run in the cool evening.

Fast forward a couple of hours and I awoke from my 20-minute nap (I know, it's becoming a hard habit to break) to overcast skies peppered with evening sun rays. That jolted me out of bed, and I was changed and out of the house in ten minutes. Unfortunately, the occasional raindrop on my first round evolved into a full-blown storm when I was halfway through my third. So I pretty much sprinted my way through, and returned home drenched and sweaty.

Not that I minded the experience. Dashing through the veil of rain was liberating, to say the least, but I would have appreciated a longer run though.

On a separate note, it looks like Marine would be coming down from France sometime at the end of the year!

The simple pleasures.

The simple pleasures.


picture from http://www.flickr.com/photos/jerrylau/2356162714/

Skipping an evening run for a nap, and waking to dusky skies.
When was the last time you succumbed?

Say it like you mean it.

Say it like you mean it.

It's just so... typically female to start feeling unmotivated when race day is just a week away. Lanxi and I are horrible runners when we're sleepy, and Saturday's beach side run in the hot afternoon sun almost killed us.

I was drifting in and out of sleep most of Friday night, and though I pretty much nudged B awake each time I tossed and turned, he was as fresh as a daisy when we finally sat down to brunch at noon. And eating less than two hours before the run was a huge and intentional mistake. Could feel the french toast flopping around on the run.

I'm really not sure if we'll be able to complete all 10km in grace, so I'm hoping the atmosphere will be ra-ra enough to spur us along. If not, I'm gonna kidnap May somewhere in the middle for breakfast, haha!



After a recovery nap in the evening, I zipped out to meet bitch for a spot of unsuccessful shopping and crazy antics. Dancing the Y.M.C.A and runny eyeliner that made her look like a raccoon.

And all this, the calm before the storm that awaits this coming week. Deadlines, interviews, flea markets and the big race. Need luck.

Kaleidoscopic mish mash.

Kaleidoscopic mish mash.

Helping B revise for his Mandarin test
Bumping into my brother outside B's condo
School work
Finally getting an interview
Unhappiness
Reminisces
Happiness
Bali dreaming

Rachael Yamagata on repeat.

Over and over and over and over again.

Bali - No longer just a daydream.

Bali - No longer just a daydream.



The tickets are finally booked. I'm all set for my third trip to Bali, and instead of the time constraining four-day trips I've taken in the past, I'll be staying for 12 days this time around.
First I'll join B, and then Ceci will join me when he takes off to see his parents for Christmas.

So hopefully I'll finally get around to taking a Balinese cooking class, dine at Ku De Ta, see the dolphins frolick at Lovina Beach... everything I haven't had the chance to do on my previous two trips really.

Excited is an understatement, though that's kinda tapered off after my four-hour session surfing Bali websites and hotel recommendations. Needless to say, I've been extremely unproductive in revising for the HR test that's taking place in an hour. First let me figure how I'm gonna lug the tripod, laptop and my huge-ass textbook to the other end of the campus...

Oh. My. God.

Oh. My. God.

What could possibly be more mortifying than getting interrupted by ex-neighbors while sharing a goodbye smooch with your boyfriend at the main entrance to the condo? I can't even describe how disconcerting it is to have two pairs of eyes staring at you, and then hearing your name called out loud. And after confirming that it was indeed me, they told B that they were just living two floors above him.

I can just about imagine how the tiny tidbit is gonna spread through the Spottiswoode grapevine...These were the ex-neighbors who watched me grow up, whose son was my playmate through primary school, and whose daughter has now married and is living six floors above me. "Small world" barely cuts it.

Birdsong.

Birdsong.

Birdsong outside my window in the sleepy sunshine of the early morning.
An inexplicable yearning to wake to misty mountains and rice paddies.

Still hoping.

There's a reason to believe we almost got it right.

There's a reason to believe we almost got it right.



I used to have a picture of me grinning as my MSN display picture, and Mich has been giving me hell about how she has the urge to draw on whiskers each time she sees it. I've recently changed it to a picture of my newly pierced belly, and as I was sending her the pictures we took at dinner last night, here's what she had to say.

Mich: Eh, I really wanna add whiskers for you leh.
Me: What? On my belly??!
Mich: What whiskers on your belly? Hello, have you seen a cat?
Me: But I've changed my display pic already...
Mich: Ya I know, but one of the pictures you sent me, you grin until cannot see your eyes. (That's the last one posted up there.)

Ah, so that was the picture she was talking about... Am I the only person who finds this even remotely funny?

On a side note, B's back from his mountain trip with an injured ankle and bruised coccyx as souvenirs from the climb. Gotta admit I didn't know what a coccyx was until we started dating. Haha.

22 and nowhere near knowing.

22 and nowhere near knowing.
music: the sundays - when I'm thinking about you

Tonight's dinner with my bitch will mark the end of the birthday celebrations, not that they were anything grand to begin with. Just a couple of quiet dinners, drinks and one heck of a rowdy Monopoly game.





My Saturday with the Spottiswoode gang (plus honorary members).



A couple of prize shots from the afternoon of games.

Growing older seems to be time's way of urging us forward in this game of life; an incentive to let go of the old to embrace the new. But while age used to be a bargaining chip while we were younger, ("I'm 18 and old enough to stay out past midnight!"), there comes a time where it is nothing but an inconsequential number.

Despite the years passed and the new experiences lived, some pasts just have a way of catching up, and catching you off guard. When I don't even know where I'll live or what I'll do, it is extremely sobering to see a particular of yesterday the one constant reflected amid the uncertainties that abound.

Is wanderlust a solitary adventure, or will there come a day where we'll throw in the towel and decide we've seen enough on our own? Que sera, sera.

Wouldn't have had it any other way.

Wouldn't have had it any other way.

Horror stories, healing inconveniences and pounding heart aside, I had my belly pierced on an extremely calculated whim today. Lanxi and I were supposed to get it done together last year, but the piercer wouldn't let me as I was about to head off to India (read: unsanitary). So almost a year later, we're back in the same room, but this time with Lanxi looking on instead.


I'm squeamish about open wounds and blood, but I think I'm handling the slight bleeding and cleaning process pretty well. No regrets!

Had a short sms chat with Charmain when I was out, and the girl wrote a really touching entry about me on her blog. Click here to check it out, the one dated 2 October 2008. Glad to have inspired you babe, just don't become a travel-holic like me, not very healthy! Haha.


There seems to be an unplanned Mexican theme for my birthday this year. I ushered in my birthday over margaritas at Cafe Iguana's last night (photos later), and the surprise restaurant for my birthday date today turned out to be El Patio in Holland Village. It's been too long since I ate such yummy fajitas. After, we headed over to 2 a.m. Dessert Bar for some canoodling over wine and gourmet chocolate tarts.


Meet Grosse Tête, aka Fat Head. Along with a French language kit, B gave me the bear to replace my lost Racky. And after too long ("Baby, I'll buy you a train ticket to the airport instead. It's more romantic no?" @*!#!%@), I finally got the flowers I'd wanted. Haha.

And at dinner, J called to share the joy of his promotion. We were just speaking about it this very morning, and I couldn't be happier for him. Congratulations J, next is to sign up for swimming lessons!

It has been quite the eventful day indeed! Even if nothing else exciting happens for the next 364 days, at least I can remember my 22nd year as the one where I pierced my belly! Haha.

The year I was 21.

The year I was 21.

There have been too many gripes about how life goes downhill once you're 21, but truth be told I'm not at all apprehensive about turning 22. Being 21 skims the lines of legal everything, but being 22 kinda tangibilizes it. I still feel underaged sometimes, so this birthday would be my legal passport to anything and everything.

I've toyed with the idea of this entry for some time now, but I had to wait until I was nearing the end of my 21st year before it would be meaningful to pen it down.

When I was 21:

I packed up and left home for the longest time so far
lived in India for over four months
experienced my first winter
sat on my first auto-rickshaw ride and prayed to live through it
sat through many more in the Indian winter while bundled up in two jackets and a scarf
squeezed and huddled with three others in the back of an auto-rickshaw meant for two
got groped, twice
learnt to appreciate the sunshine on a cold day
a steaming cup of chai while seated outdoors on a winter's night
and the toasty warmth of shelter from harsh winter winds

I watched my first Bollywood film in one of Ahmedabad's cinemas
washed my own clothes for the first time
killed my first cockroach
endured my first Brazilian wax in an Indian beauty parlor
befriended and became great friends with the Frenchies
spent many a night with them bastardizing the institution
over chai at Chhota and hot Bonvita at TT
over late-night badminton games
or while watching Go to Goa, the film of our Indian life

I fell head over heels in lust with Berty
finally kissed him on our third evening in Goa
bargained at the Anjuna hippie markets I'd always wanted to see
spent a night in Sur la Mer, one of Goa's most romantic resorts
sat on a motorbike for the first time
got my first motorbike battle scar
had my first injection in India in one of Goa's dilapidated hospitals
and lived to tell the tale

I visited Shanghai for the first time
missed my first flight
had my first catch-up with a friend on foreign land
and spent a night with food poisoning in the transit hotel

I flew halfway around the world to Paris
for a six-week rendezvous with B
had my first visit to the Laundromat
saw the Eiffel Tower thrice
ate my first escargots and too many French delicacies
shopped at the outdoor markets I've longed to visit
saw Mont Blanc and the French Alps
drank champagne in Champagne
visited my first Disneyland Park
missed my second flight
traipsed through Rome with my childhood friend
bridged sisterly rifts with my sister over fries in Brussels
danced through the night in a Spanish club
met up with the Frenchies in Paris and Guethary
discovered a new way of life
and a new way of embracing it.

It has been the year of many firsts, and one that made my previous 20 seem bland and colorless. It was one where I said my goodbyes to old endings and embarked on the most beautiful and inspiring of beginnings. Too many times I payed no heed to the head and followed the heart, and was rewarded with experiences of a lifetime. If i had to sum it up, I would say that this was the year I finally stopped thinking, and finally started living.

With commitments that would keep me grounded here in Singapore for the good part of my 22nd year, I'm not sure how exciting it would be, but we'll see. :)

The angmoh diaries.

The angmoh diaries.

I'd expected queues, but not quite those we experienced outside the Crystal Jade outlets at lunchtime today. Our dim sum plans were foiled, so after an unremarkable lunch at Fish & Co, we set about window shopping in Paragon and Takashimaya.

B's a huge fan of luxury watches (and all things luxury actually), and we set foot in stores that I entered only when i was interning at a fashion magazine two years ago and never thought to visit on a usual shopping day. I'm not fond of anything pretentious, and that includes nightspots, restaurants and boutiques. Honestly, I don't see the point of setting myself up to be judged upon stepping through those doors and into a world where only money talks. Still, I must say I was pleasantly surprised. Beyond the extravagant and exclusive exteriors, the sales assistants really weren't as judgmental or intimidating as I had imagined them to be, and there were more Singaporeans in flip flops than manicured tai-tai's milling around.

Ceci once quipped, after I told her how I didn't want to go to a particular place with B as it was kinda attas and I didn't want to dress up - "But you have a French man on your arm, and that's your best accessory!"

So, were the sales people nice only because my boyfriend's white-skinned and therefore assumed to have wads of cash to throw around? (Honestly he doesn't because he's a student like me, haha.) Or have the service standards in Singapore improved drastically since two years ago, when I suffered contemptuous glares as an intern picking up stuff for the fashion shoots? I'm inclined towards the latter, and I don't blame them. Before I started dating B, I too used to assume that all Caucasians shopped in LV, had champagne brunches and lived in landed property. Perhaps it's karma, haha.

Service discrepancies and twisted world views aside, I felt a brainwashing mechanism creeping in after our third luxury store. Having seen watches that cost S$61,000, those that cost S$1,800 suddenly seemed reasonable. And I suddenly found myself looking wistfully at the clever window displays of leather bags, chic heels and smart dresses and thinking how nice it would be to own a closet full of them. Seriously, the blur of boutique-visiting screwed up my perspective. The amount I pay for a single item would have bought me a diving certification, surfing lessons and two beach holidays. Phew. Today was definitely one of the rare times I was actually glad that my bank account was as dry as the Sahara, and that I didn't have a credit card to whip out.

And on another different note, am I the only one who feels like there's nothing to do in Singapore but to eat, shop and watch movies?