me inc.

See the New ME!

2009-09-01T23:23:00.003+08:00

Ok, I've had it.
This slack of mine.
Very, very, very large inertia, and I'm still not quite over it yet.
Still trying my very best.

I love you, blogspot.
I'll still come back to see you.
But I need to go away somewhere else.
Maybe for long. Maybe for a short while.
Maybe I'll even be back.

Trust me, you've got nicer fonts here.
Wordpress ones, eeew.

Folks, come see me at my new place: http://theoriginalfatmama.wordpress.com/

Let's hope this works out this time.
*Toes crossed*

S-L-O-W

2009-07-19T17:09:00.001+08:00

AARRRRRRGGGGGH!!!

I'm so fuckin slow in my blog updates!!
Totally uninspired!!!

"Happy"

2009-07-15T19:12:00.001+08:00

If I can wear Alden, dudes should wear mary-janes, no?

Eeeew though.

Day 135

2009-07-11T16:26:00.000+08:00

I just realised... tears for my baby haven't yet stopped.

Red Kung Fu Shoes

2009-07-10T20:34:00.001+08:00

My red kung fu shoes are dope, aren't they?

Have them in blue too. No cushioning, can't wear in the rain - but sure I feel like I can fly.

Moncler Retrievers

2009-07-10T20:28:00.003+08:00

This. Is. Soooper duper cute.

Bruce Weber for Moncler.

The campaign features some interesting images including Weber’s own Golden Retrievers donning customized quilted down dog hoodies...

I refuse to believe these are all his.

Kitchen

2009-07-09T12:32:00.003+08:00

One of my most favorite places in the world now has got to be my kitchen.

And it must've been rather obvious; as Simon says, "You really take pride in your kitchen huh." With a chuckle, as he watches me wash up every single equipment and clean out every corner of the countertops - before and after our feast.

It's true. I love my kitchen.

Times when the nighttime social activities seem to intensify a bit, and I don't get to hang out in my lovely apartment or lie in bed and pop in a movie after a long day at work, I start to feel dissociated from my flat.

Recently, for a couple of odd reasons, I've started waking up at six on a couple of mornings so I can prepare lunch from scratch. (Why do you have to wake at six, asks a friend. Because I have to cook rice. Why can't you cook it overnight so you can sleep an extra hour?? I don't know... Because I like to cook it fresh. Inexplicable. Incomprehensible.)

Waking at six probably ranks high up on Mom's list of Top Ten Miracles in the world. I would definitely top that list if she knows I wake at six to cook.

There's nothing quite as peaceful for me these days, as a peaceful morning spent in my kitchen. The first fifteen minutes would be - as per any other usual morning - part groggy, part irritable. But I'd never known I could feel this fresh in the morning, as I start putting the rice into the cooker, make a cup of coffee, sometimes a smoothie, check some web sites on the mac, and then start cooking.

Most mornings I'd put music on in the living room, and dance in the kitchen. I'd open the windows in the kitchen, listen to the morning sounds outside - birds that sing, cars that pass, not too much but just about enough to indicate the springing of life to the world. In summertime, this is also probably the best time of my day, you get a cool breeze passing through your kitchen, and the sun has not yet shone onto my white walls.

For the next hour or so, I'd flit to and fro between mac and kitchen. Maybe make a second cup of coffee. No one's awake online yet. So I check really frivolous web sites. Maybe pop my head into the wardrobe and think about what to wear. Then when I think it's time, I start the real work. I don't really check recipes these days. I cook really simple. And I just know what I want to eat - usually fish, since it's always easier to get chicken or other meat when I eat out. And as long as I have soy sauce, vinegar and mirin these days, all's good to go. Sometimes, I start ransacking the fridge box and see what else I could throw into the lunchbox that day. Mushrooms, spinach, chilli, peppers, eggs are the usual accomplices.

The funny thing is, when all's done (including the obsessive washing up) and I'm all showered and dressed up, I get out of the house and still get to work earlier than usual.

Well, I just get zonked out after lunch.

Maybe I have my continued insomnia to thank for these beautiful, peaceful mornings I'm enjoying these days.

"Don't Tell Son!!!"

2009-06-26T22:20:00.002+08:00

TRAVEL INFORMATION

Here is your arrival and departure information, including any connecting bus transfers:

-------------Trip to TORONTO, ON-------------
06/26/09 05:00pm GLI-0277 * Depart BOSTON, MA
06/27/09 04:05am GLI-0277 * Arrive BUFFALO, NY
06/27/09 04:45am GLC-5566 * Depart BUFFALO, NY
06/27/09 07:00am GLC-5566 * Arrive TORONTO, ON

-------------Return Trip to BOSTON, MA-------------
06/28/09 09:30am GLC-5569 * Depart TORONTO, ON
06/28/09 04:25pm GLC-5569 * Arrive SYRACUSE, NY
06/28/09 05:15pm GLI-0218 * Depart SYRACUSE, NY
06/28/09 11:55pm GLI-0218 * Arrive BOSTON, MA
Note: * denotes Carrier and Bus Schedule Number.
GLI: GREYHOUND LINES, INC.; GLC: GREYHOUND LINES OF CANADA

I love impromptu road trips.
And surprises too.
And being in love.

Can't wait.

Beantown

2009-06-22T20:42:00.002+08:00

Me: Hello!
LT: Hai!
LT: Are u in the Bean?
Me: Bean??
LT: Beantown is the nickname for Boston
LT: Not sure y
Me: Oh
Me: Yeah then i guess i'm in the Bean
Me: Is it cos the men in Boston mostly look like Mr Bean?

I always love the "Hahahahaha" that ensues. No matter how corny I seem to be.

I just wanna make you laugh.

Hua Hin

2009-06-12T23:44:00.003+08:00

The crew - yes, the whole crew - actually pulled it off one weekend in March.

The getaway. From the office, to the beach.

We kinda got ourselves into deep shit after. We are now banned from taking mass leave. Hiak.

A rather bad timing for me, I was grieving for my baby during the trip. I had no real interest for anything else but just lying under the sun and drinking Bailey's coffee every morning. I finished a book, and I missed my baby terribly. Especially every time I tried to go into the waters.

Nonetheless, we had good fun. The whole crew did.

We ate. We played cards. We dumped losers into the pool at 3 in the morning. We devoured the night markets. Some even got tattoos and learned how to ride a bike.

I am thankful, I feel very blessed. That wherever I have called my workplace, I have found real good friends.

Change

2009-06-11T22:46:00.002+08:00

I kinda think, every now and then, this page needs a revamp altogether.

I don't know.

Change is always good, I suppose.

Bentos & Onigiris

2009-06-10T14:03:00.006+08:00

Been waking up at six in the mornings. Just like that *snaps finger*

So far, two bento boxes and eight onigiris.

Mom would've been so proud of me.

Toast to Toastbox

2009-06-09T13:21:00.002+08:00

Joy to the world!

Kopi-O in my neighborhood!

Even if it costs bloddy two-fifty sing-dollars, and I have to walk an extra 10 minutes in the sweltering summer-mornings to get hold of it.

Spam

2009-06-08T22:06:00.003+08:00

Courtesy of my Pi-chick...

*Pi-chick* says: i have to tell you something that;s quite funny..

*Pi-chick* says:
xxx@hotmail.com sent 08/06/2009 8:34 AM:
*Pi-chick* said (Yesterday at 12:19 PM):
I just have to let you know, I actually ordered those acai berry pills that I heard about on oprah and in messages on here, well I been on them for two weeks and lost 21 pounds so far, so I am living proof that they really do work, they are only five dollars over at http://lampkey.com

*Pi-chick* says:
xxx@hotmail.com sent 08/06/2009 8:35 AM:
girl, are you taking this, better stop

*Pi-chick* says: there was this spam emial
*Pi-chick* says: and my mum actually thot i was on pills

And the perils of having your mom on msn.

Rain Rain, Go Away

2009-05-26T22:25:00.001+08:00

The fuckin rain has to go away. Cos I want to come out and play.

NOT THE FUCKING COCKROACHES.

Love, St Maarten

2009-05-24T19:31:00.004+08:00

"U can drive thru whole island in hour... w no traffic"

"Hmm that's kinda like my hometown"

Bye Bye, Love

2009-05-24T19:27:00.002+08:00

Another baby gone.

One more load off, another attachment less.

We've All Been Swoosh'd

2009-05-23T20:53:00.004+08:00

My old friends from my old playground are probably not a very happy bunch at the playground this week.

Table tennis partners separated. Swimmers and runners diverted. Hoops teammates ejected. Travel buddies gone. Lunch companions no more. Compatriots torn apart.

Folks rudely snatched from their dreams. People cruelly thrown into unbeknownst realities. Captains forced to change their course. Sailors forced to jump off the boats. Moms and Dads left with unthinkable worries. The faithful bereft of faith.

Those who are left behind probably feel lost with the emptiness that surrounds them, literally. How am I going to fight on my own?

Those left behind probably feel anger at the brutality and coldness of the axe that was raised and dropped, just like that. Why? Does any of this make sense? Why them? Why?!

Those left behind might feel ashamed. What have I done, that they have not, to deserve this?

Those left behind must feel disappointment. Why good people who have done nothing but good stuff, who have been nothing but goodness?

They must feel sadness. For sure.

Those who leave are probably just too numb right now to decide how they really feel.

Anger may mask relief. Fear may cover courage. Sadness may hide excitement. Uncertainty will overshadow hope.

We don’t know. They don’t know. Heck, we don’t have to know. Not for now.

I no longer belong to that playground. But I have never forgotten that playground, because that’s where I grew up, and where I made friends I hope remain so for the rest of my life. Even if we no longer balance our sheets on the see-saw or get drunk on the swings together or thrash-talk in front of the hoop anymore.

I am not part of that playground this week. But once upon a time, I left that playground too.

Not to my keenest wish. Not to my greatest desire. Not in my wildest dream. But I did make that choice even then.

It was a you-go-or-I-go kinda choice. And who the hell was I to get rid of a multi-billion global giant who pays me less than the cheapest of peanuts to make money to pay for their landscaping expense every year?

In that playground, choosing to leave is probably one of the toughest things to do (not the forecasting at adoption meetings, countrary to popular belief). Being asked to do so, takes it to another level altogether.

I couldn’t figure out then how I felt. That day when I left. The whole week. The following week. The weeks after. The many months, many years later.

When all feelings from all different polar ends conjoin within you, you get confused, no? Angry to tears one day, sad to more the next. Crushed one day, all-exciteable the next.

It will be tiring. And when you’re tired, you don’t want to figure things out.

But no, I will never regret ever being part of that playground, for all of six years of my youth. And even more so, I will never regret having ever left. Because I am so proud and happy with who I am today.

Let’s just put it this way. If I hadn’t been part of that playground, I wouldn’t have been the “me” I am today. If I hadn’t left too, I wouldn’t also have been the “me” I am today.

One thing has to lead to another, then another… and then to others.

In leaving, I thought I lost something, many things, things that mattered to me.

Truth is, I found myself. Which is the only thing that should ever matter to me.

I digress. This isn’t about me.

To my friends who are feeling sad for those who leave, don’t be. Be happy for them. Because they are your friends. And people can’t be happy nor strong if their friends aren’t. Something’s just lying in wait for them out there, somewhere – as it is for you. Be patient.

Don’t be angry. Because anger begets more anger, and makes you an unhappy person. And refer to the above, if you are unhappy, your friends will not be.

One day, maybe years later, or heck, maybe even next week… trust me, you’re all gonna be bitching about “you-know-who” over Tigers and Heines, and rojaks and chicken wings (mmmmmmmmm…).

To those who have to graduate from the playground this week, I’m happy for you. It’s another wonderful episode in our stories we can close, just so we can start on the next.

The opportunity to have new opportunities in one’s life is often an underrated gift.

I am, in all honesty, still quite nowhere in my journey of life.

I still have a long way to go (I sure hope), and I don't know where I'll go, what I'll do, who I'll meet, how I will be.

I don't know how many more sad episodes and heartaches I will have to experience. I don't know how many more happy days I will live.

All I hope is, when I am crushed, I am going to remember the times when I was happy. Wonder how I got there, and try to get there again.

And when I am happy, I am going to try to be happier.

All I have, is really just me.

I Love You, Mom

2009-05-10T15:35:00.003+08:00

So lazy.

Such a lazy Mom's Day Sunday.

I'm so, so faraway from Mom, I can't have any Mom's Day plan - today nor any other day. There's no sun on Sundays, I can't go lie on the beach. I am resisting the unnecessary foot massage.

I really ought to sort through my pictures, and my thoughts, and write today.

Sigh.

LT: Did u call your mom yet?
ME: Nope its still Saturday night yah?
ME: I'll call when it's sunday morning for her
LT: I have sat, but u sun no?
ME: Yup yup
LT: Ah so
ME: She's still in Smutland
LT: Hahahaahaa

Yeah. Smutland. : )

Pad Number Two

2009-04-19T20:33:00.003+08:00

It's been 52 days.

52 days, 5 countries, 9 cities, one new pad coming to life, and still my baby has not come home.

I can't really grasp the flight of time, but almost a third of the new year has gone by. And I still think it's a new year. Hmm.

The new year, with all due respect, had promised some new excitement to my life. No, wait. Correction: I had promised myself some new excitement this new year.

For a start, I finally made up my mind to get myself out of that sunlight-deprived, fresh air-deprived, roach-infested (okay, I exaggerate, but I am paranoid too), pipe-leaking, sink-congested, drain-clogged, dust-collecting apartment. Nah, the apartment isn't that bad if I could discount all of the above, I've been telling my lazy ass for the longest time. Then, with all the economic crises, job losses and pay freezes happening around me, I gave myself one last motivation: get a cheaper place.

And get a cheaper place, I did. My lazy ass wasn't all out in the flat-hunting, especially when I couldn't usually get off work early and I refused to skip Saturday hoops and I only wanted to lie in bed all of Sundays. All the "cheaper" places I had seen somehow couldn't convince me to get my lazy ass up and leave the sunlight-deprived, fresh air-deprived, roach-infested, pipe-leaking, sink-congested, drain-clogged, dust-collecting apartment. Err... too small. Too noisy. Too faraway. Too small. Not dog-friendly. Not cheap enough. Too small. Too ugly. Can't cook. Not me.

Until I saw it.

You know you see something when even before you can understand why, your heart just starts pumping a little faster and a silly smile creeps up on your face. Pretty much the same for me when I think of someone. That's when I know I'm in love.

And yes, I knew I was in love barely ten minutes after I saw it.

That is "me", that is mine, I decided. The next couple of flats were just to convince me I was already in love. I made quick friends with the tenant - my "new friend Tim". He saved the flat for me and turned away all others while I went back to Singapore to collect ang pows. The day after I returned, I signed for my new love.

Completely bare naked, the flat had only an air-conditioner left behind. I had to build a nest from scratch. But I did my math, and figured this was still a better deal. I had gotten myself something not just "cheaper", but really "much cheaper". Sweet.

The flat is not exactly bigger, but it has a kitchen and it has space. There is only one flat on every floor, and I have the highest one on the fourth - complete with a kick-ass rooftop. It has more windows than I've ever seen anywhere else. I am sunlight- and fresh air-crazy after more than 18 months.

The first thing I decided for my new love: the red wall has to go. I'm perhaps not one for fiery passion.

In the two weeks that followed, I repainted all the walls. I scrubbed down all the walls and floors. I expended cash like never before. I became first-time owner of a bed, a wardrobe, a couch, a shelf, a cabinet, a coffee table, a TV, a fridge, a washing machine, a dehumidifier (my next newfound love) and a blender. I packed and moved my stuff over bit by bit. I fixed up the internet and cable TV and set up new accounts for electricity and water. I realized how many shirts, tees, shoes, stuff, I really have. I realized too how many more I yearn to have so I had to start some wardrobe planning and make some extra space for the future. I put up shower curtains and almost lost both arms. I packed and moved some more. I cleaned the floors over again. I tried to put up my curtains but I failed and cursed and swore. I lost my wallet and got it back. I probably lost a few pounds too.

And then I lost my Piper somewhere in between those two weeks.

Since the big move, I've made a home trip to look for my baby, then a big outing with the office gang to Hua Hin, then a week-long freezing trip to northern China.

And now I'm finally back to reality after three long weeks in the US. I don't think I've slept on my new bed for more than ten days.

For some reason, I wish that one weekend didn't have to end... and I didn't have to come back.

Day 9

2009-03-07T22:13:00.001+08:00

Mommy's back, but not her baby.

Empty

2009-03-03T21:11:00.003+08:00

Why am I feeling like the only one thing I have left has been taken away from me?

A Mother's Tears

2009-03-01T01:30:00.006+08:00

My beloved Piper has run out of the house and gone missing since Friday morning, Feb 27, sometime around 8 in the morning.

She should hopefully still be around the area, though we are worried she might have walked further to other neighborhoods.

Apparently, just at my void deck, she had rushed out to the carpark, and she was hit by a car. There was a loud bang, but she got up, limped, and ran off.

Piper is very likely injured now, and even more so, traumatized and distressed, so she might have lost her way back home or even to familiar grounds.

We have put up some posters around the blocks. A mini search party has been out since Friday morning. Leads have been very, very sparse.

We will continue to search for her - finding her is very crucial, especially considering she might be badly injured and helpless. We will also put up more posters, and in more areas.

Anyone who knows me, will know Piper. And what she means to me.

I am unfortunately still in Hong Kong, and unable to fly back to Singapore immediately.

Please help me in any little way you can:
(1) send and pass on this notice to as many friends as you can (you may send the link to this post),
(2) help disseminate posters,
(3) help look for Piper - in open areas, in neighborhoods, asking around.

Please remember Piper is in need of urgent help - she is likely injured from the car accident, and on top of that, she has a chronic skin problem that is easily triggered off by stress.

I don't quite expect anyone to actually help with (2) or (3), but please do help send this notice to as many people as you can - for all we know, you might know someone who knows someone, or who might know someone who knows someone else, who might have picked up my baby or seen her scurrying somewhere.

I will be eternally grateful to everyone, anyone.

*****

My baby is the most incorrigible dog ever. If you think Marley's worst, that's because you haven't met Piper. She's always the problematic one, everything from her chronic stressed-out skin, to her perpetual hunt for food in every nook and corner, to her immense greed for every thing edible, to her runaways from home, to her unfailing ability to make me worry endlessly.

When I am not home, she's the one who pouts and lies lifelessly on the front door mat.

When I am home, she's the one who defies Grandma's orders and jumps up onto the bed to crash into my lap.

She is probably one of the smelliest dogs in the world, but to me, it's just Piper. I wear Piper like my favorite everyday scent.

She's too rough for a girl. She plays taunt with you. Stick out your hand to pat her, and she lowers into her crouching stance, thinking you're up for a jaw fight. Reach out further, and she starts growling and barking - and then backs off and scampers away. Loser.

Run after her, grab her, and flip her over belly side up, and she squirms like you're trying to throw her into a pot of boiling oil.

Trying to give her a shower (which she always badly needs) entails chasing her around the whole house, and sometimes having to lie face-down on the floor, straining your arm to grab her from under the bed. It also means having your couch and bed all wet after she dries herself from the painful ordeal. Just ask Grandma.

She sticks to no one, but treats you like you're her best friend if you happen to be eating. When I'm home, however, she sticks to me like 3M tape, everywhere from the bathroom to the bed, never letting me out of sight. Everyone else in the house is practically non-existent. When I go out, she scolds me, "Where the hell do you think you're going again?"

When I pack my luggage, her ears stick up, her eyes widen, I swear I can see her tiny heart pumping away really fast beneath her furry chest. She jumps into the work-in-progress when I turn my back.

And when I eventually roll the luggage out of the room and step out of the house, she looks at me with the saddest eyes I have ever seen on anyone - human or dog.

And this is the precise moment I start tearing.

Piper,

What the hell are you doing now? Where are you?

Aren't you hungry? Aren't you tired? Are you in pain? Did you make new friends?

Are you ever coming home? Are you ever coming back to Mommy?

You know, don't you? You know, Mommy's has been seriously thinking of bringing you over to the Honks. The new place Mommy's just got, you and your sister, you two are going to live like crazy in that quirky place. And Mommy got a queen bed, and it's a spring!

Come home, Piper. Come home, and then come back with Mommy.

I'm waiting.

You can't do this to Mommy.

Happy 2*

2009-02-20T10:01:00.001+08:00

Big boy already (well, er...).
Don't pout.

Faster grow up faster.

Love

2009-02-17T22:51:00.001+08:00

The cutest ~~thing~~ ~~monkey~~ faker.

Worse than me, I say.

Start

2009-02-15T16:52:00.008+08:00

And the Fatmama's back.

Part distressed, part thoughtful, part wordless, part lazy, and a huge bit lost. I had disappeared even from my own world.

I used to tell myself all the time, that I like writing, and I will always write. Because I know I am good when I can write. And when I can't, when the brain goes into a cramp, when visions form in my head but not the words, I know I am lost out there somewhere and I need to find me back.

Thanks to those few of you who check in still occasionally - and your very heartwarming encouragement for me to write again.

I think you do know me, after all.

*****

It's already February, oh my dear. I haven't really "spoken" for almost two months by now.

Whatever happened over the two months I went missing, we would all have assumed must be something terrible that made me stopped talking. That I wouldn't want to talk about now.

But that's not me. That's not my aim of talking in the first place. Not everything should be spoken of either, but it is my onus to preserve my memories here. My life is all I can claim pride and ownership of, and I will not run away from all that had indeed happened in it.

That said, not everything had been terrible. Like I said, I was lazy too : )

Let me retrace the steps in my memory a little. I'm going 32, my brain's not all that great these days, what with the 'selective memory' mode in function.

December of 2008 remains a bash. A huge party bash with the awesome folks. A drink too many had also caused malfunctioning of the brain, made me sleep more than usual, had me recovering on the couch in front of the tv most of the time. Writing became a procrastinated task.

I snuck off to Tokyo - again. Just for a few days over the weekend, and this time, flanked by my brother and the gorgeous one. Which only meant I wasn't going to be enjoying my favorite land my usual way.

No early mornings, no walking around, no food adventure, no crazy shopping (though I did blow more than a couple hundreds on everything 'Made in Scotland'). We woke up at noon, we lazed away our afternoons trying to wake up with Starbucks, we hopped into any convenient restaurant we could find (bleh!), we almost cabbed everywhere. The boys made me hang out an entire afternoon with them at the great big Isetan Men's, so I could "help me see if this jacket is nice".

And we partied big-time. They popped my strip-club cherry. They brought me all over around Roppongi like they were the local hosts. They met chicks, I met dudes. I was romanced with vintage French reds at the top of Tokyo, whose view unfortunately could not beat the one we get from our own Equinox, I thought.

Our main itinerary really kicked off from 11 every night. I am not so sure now when they said, "Seoul next!"

The rest of the month was thus spent back in the Honks, where we feasted like royalty and partied like animals. All the way right till the last day of the year.

*****

I couldn't have had a happier December.

So my world stopped turning a little just on the second day of the new year, when the blow struck.

"Great. I still have 364 more days to go this year." And all of a sudden, I didn't want to remember December at all.

I slumped. I cried. I slept. I ran. I worked. I thought. And in between all, I survived the subzero freeze in Boston.

Now, I am just glad to be back.

And I can't wait for the remaining 320 days to go this year : )

Wow...

2009-01-18T04:46:00.000+08:00

... it's already been an exact month.

I'll say something tomorrow.

I promise.

Again

2008-12-18T05:42:00.002+08:00

Three times in less than six months.

I really shouldn't. Especially when I'm inviting inevitable suspicions.

Then again, Gorgeous really, really shouldn't have seduced me with my favorite.

: )

In six hours... : )

December Part One

2008-12-18T04:57:00.003+08:00

Before anything else, I just wanna rant...

FARK THOSE SHOES! Fark those shoes that I so love!

Why is it that the most glamorous things in the world are sometimes also the most insensibly useless ones? Why is it that I have got pretty heels but cannot show them off to the world?

Why is it I cannot handle even 4 inches?

This so calls for some training. =/

*****

Let me recount the past week. Oh, the past week.

December is already midway through its run, and I'm lamenting it's flying by and wishing December never ends. I love December, for the coolness in the air (I walk around in just a tank top at times), for the layering of clothes (and I'd like to clarify I am not a boot-wearing polar bear), for the holiday mood (read: laziness) at work, for the Fun Fridays and Congee Tuesdays (can't remember when I last had hot pot).

I love December, because every day is a party in December. That, at least, is my very-new-though-very-late resolution for the year.

And I am darn sure taking my resolution seriously for once.

TUESDAY
Drank.
Didn't really have to. Shouldn't really have.
But running my guts out and staying home on Monday night was good enough to make me feel like a good girl.
So I did. And I did also discover a lovely new place, Le Jardin.
My Japanese friend is finally out again these days. We're back chatting about shit.

WEDNESDAY
Drank.
Christmas cookie frosting! Pizza! Wine!
Never in my entire life thus far have I ever baked nor much less, frosted Christmas cookies. Am not a big cookie monster to begin with.
But it's the fun, and the company, and the wine that really count.
My small-town Vermont babe is awesome.
I made the ugliest United-Colors-of-Benetton Santa - that, of course, I had to eat up.

THURSDAY
Drank.
Farewell drinks for a not-so-close colleague, and I swear I will never step foot into Sevva again - if I can help it.
I have never hung with all the girls from the work place. And only the girls. Weird.
Dinner at Wagyu was decent, though. Been dying to try the cows there, but none of the girls ordered a steak, and I would feel like a cow if I did.
The phone call came in the middle of my salad and carpaccio feast. And I can't wait to sneak off.
Back to Le Jardin. Nice.
My Japanese friend is out again. Hmm.

FRIDAY
Drank.
From 5.30 in the afternoon. On the pretext of "office party". A PYOB one, at that - thanks to the recent budget cuts.
5 out of 11 beers from the list. Blue shots and pink ones too. And another one that looked really like good ol' plain water.
Giggled and stumbled out to Fatburger with the boys.
Ah, I miss these crazy nights.
And obviously way more than the boys, because I didn't go home at half-past-nine while they did.
What's a week without spending time with my Gorgeous?
It's training week, too. : )
Never mind even if I have to stumble home at 3. Or, was it 4?

SATURDAY
Drank. Drank. Ate. Laughed. Drank. Danced. Sang. Laughed. Talked. Drank.
It's our glamorous Christmas dinner. (Yes, the fucking' glam dinner for which I bought the fuckin' glam shoes, which didn't even bring me a fuckin' hundred meters away from home.)
We promised we'd all come out in our glamorous best, for once - and not have dinner at hot pot.
French was equally tantalizing.
I got a can of abalone in the gift exchange. Which invited much jibing. But I think it's cool I've something to bring home for Mom.
Laughter. Company. Memories. That's Christmas for me.
All the way till 7 in the morning.

SUNDAY
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

"Oh office buddies again huh..."

And I can see the sneer at the other end.

Yeah, I happen to love these guys. And I still love you boys lah.

1800

2008-12-13T19:46:00.003+08:00

I think... I think... I think I just bought my first pair of Italian-made shoes (when I really SHOULDN'T FUCKIN' HAVE).

I hope it's comfortable.

And I hope it's not the beginning of a new addiction.

I can't believe tonight's finally here.

Oh! Toro!

2008-12-04T07:25:00.002+08:00

I know I've kinda sworn to myself, I'd try to stay away from Japanese food when I'm anywhere in the world but Japan. But I think my adventure number two might have led me to possibly the best otoro in town.

It wasn't just the otoro.

It was the raw egg over my fluffy rice, sprinkled with dabs of shoyu, that had me completely sold.

People come, people go. That's what they do in my life.

I'm glad you chose to let me stay in yours.

Saturday

2008-12-03T06:55:00.002+08:00

I eat, and eat, and eat.

And eat.

That's why I have to run harder than I eat.

Crime scene: Y by-the-bay at the Repulse Bay (just more atas Japanese hot pot, really)

Further activities: Undisclosed

Yamapi!

2008-12-02T06:43:00.002+08:00

The first, and usually most interesting, motive for me to explore a place is food.

Where it is known to have good food, I usually cannot find another reason otherwise for me to move my ass.

That has, if I think about it real hard, been what I've been unwittingly doing for the last few months - I have seen parts of the Honks I'd have otherwise never seen in my hot pot adventures.

I started my new resolution as a pseudo-tourist in my new hometown by looking up all the foodie blogs and forums and web sites on the Internet. Don't ask me why.

And of very late, I have a newfound interest, more like curiosity, about private kitchens in the Honks.

Hmm. Don't ask me about private kitchens too - at least not at the moment, until I get this mystery sorted for myself.

A seemingly normal, usual Wednesday-night dinner plan with the gorgeous one set up the perfect opportunity for me.

"What do you wanna do tonight? Something simple, or something nice?"
"Nice."
"Perfect. French."

Turned out neither of us had ever really tried "French cuisine". What makes French cuisine, anyway? Rabbits? Snails?

Le Blanc was something I found randomly over the Internet - a private kitchen specializing in French cuisine, that has won quite a plenty rave reviews from customers, and didn't seem expensive. (I'm a budget tourist.)

I think I was quite sold already from the time I stepped into the "private" establishment, up on the sixth floor of an obscure commercial building in a Wan Chai, to the time I sat at our table in our "private" booth, to the time I 'ooh'd' and 'aah'd' at the amazing menu.

Everything in Le Blanc, as the name goes, is white in color yet retains a rather cosy and homely atmosphere. Indeed, while understaffed on a surprisingly busy Wednesday night, the folks somehow made me feel like I had been invited to a random house-dinner party.

There were many courses - I lost count. I can't imagine how I managed to pick all my dishes for each course, knowing how hard a menu usually makes my life. And I can't believe I didn't drink. Someone refused to touch alcohol and share a bottle with me. GRrrrrr.

The one thing I do remember though, is the taste of my grilled angus rib finger that was my main. I wasn't asked how I would like my beef cooked (which would've been rare), but the chef grilled it to such near-perfect state (which was rare - both in taste and in occurrence). Grilled but not charred on the outside, tender and almost rare in the inside, I was surprised that grilled beef like this could melt in my mouth.

I knew we both had a good dinner because I finished everything despite worrying about the number of courses earlier. And most of all, I have never seen Gorgeous eat this much - much less finish his food.

Would I return? Oh yeah. I think I do the chicken next (though I know I'd do another beef). And I'd better take advantage of the no-corkage-charge the next time.

Now I remember too why I was so happy Wednesday night.

An unexpected trip to the dodgy 188 with Gorgeous before dinner had me stumble upon one of my most amazing finds in the Honks.

Now I know where to get all my Japanese fix. : )

Love

2008-11-30T17:36:00.002+08:00

Lazy Sunday afternoon (read: recuperating on the couch from the last three nights).

Was just sending a text to the sis-in-law to send her birthday greetings:

SIL: ... Mum ask wru now.
ME: Home lor.
SIL: Mum say u must eat dinner hor!
ME: ... how did she know? Bleh

That's why, I'm my mommy's daughter too.

And that's when you feel the most loved.

The Little Things

2008-11-29T14:37:00.001+08:00

Fatmama thinks one of the best little things in life is a good hairman. Not just any good hairman, but the only one who can forge that inexplicable relationship with your hair.

I don't know what to do without Dean.

Just Sunday

2008-11-27T00:19:00.003+08:00

We've been talking about it for the longest time.

We, the hot pot gang, talking about the bubbly brunch, for a change. This "really good" bubbly brunch at the Sheraton.

A tad off our mark, especially when we've already been whining about spending too much on hot pot. But I suppose anything just so I stop taking and showing pictures of nothing but hot pot. Anything goes.

Sunday brunch is really a bad idea methinks.

Wait... let me take that back. Sunday brunch is not a bad idea at all.

Sunday champagne brunch is.

Out of the original eight, only half made it to the Sheraton Sunday morning. Out of the half who actually made it, one half couldn't even bear the smell of alcohol that morning, not to mention the taste. Of the remaining two, one's not quite a keen drinker, the other is and got quite upset at another for leaving him alone with the all-you-can-drink champagne.

Of course I made it to the Sheraton. But Simon got upset with me.

Ouch, that did not make the hangover any more bearable.

The other "really good" thing, other than the champagne deal, was supposedly the food - in particular, the oysters.

But the oysters sucked big-time.

Neither fresh nor juicy, some even had a terrible lingering taste. We tried them three times, and we wished we had learnt our lesson the first round. I swear to my god, I will never again eat oysters anywhere else in the world that's not oyster-haven.

There wasn't much choice on the buffet table. I kept moving from the sashimi platter to the seafood platter, back to the sashimi, then back to the prawns again. The cuts of sashimi did not do much justice to its flavor - though there wasn't much flavor to justify in the first place. The prawns were huge and steamed and chilled - but they weren't quite totally fresh nor juicy.

The only savior was the grilled sea bass, which had to be ordered from the menu and actually turned out really good.

And I couldn't even finish one glass of bubbles.

Verdict: I don't think you would ever see me in that restaurant anymore. =/

The truth is, every morning I wake with a headache after a bad night of alcohol overdose, I crave for only one thing from the moment I open my eyes.

Soup. Hot, hot soup. Not the Campbell kind of creamy mushroom or tomato soup. But the real Chinese kind of soup. Like the chicken soups Mom cooks. Maybe it's just a psychological effect. But everyone has his or her own hangover cure, no?

Anyway, I woke up Sunday morning with that craving. I sat almost three hours at the brunch table, still having that craving. I walked out of the restaurant with half a stomach full of bad oysters and chilled prawns and mediocre sashimi - still having that hot-soup craving.

In other words, my hangover hadn't been cured.

I could've gone straight home again to sleep it over, but I thought that would be another Sunday wasted. Since I was out, I decided I would stay out just a little more.

Me and Simon ended up walking around aimlessly until I suggested (more like insisted) we head towards east TST. I'd seen some al fresco cafes and pubs there. We could chill there.

I couldn't even finish my bottle of beer, but sitting there in the open, feeling the breeze (especially when the double-deckers whizzed past us), looking towards the harbor (and the very fogged up skyline across), chatting frivolously with a friend... I realize I have never quite had such a peaceful time outside in Honks. Sure, in Singers, there are plenty of places I could just sit and stone and chill and be at peace. In the Honks? Never.

Well, I take that back. I lied. I've had such peaceful moments before. Not aplenty, but enough. Enough for me to realize happiness comes to you in the most unexpected and subtle ways.

Ah. Well. Enough.

Anyways, Simon got a call an hour later, and we found ourselves walking toward the subway, on our way to Tin Hau.

I don't know what came over me, but I still resisted the bed, and I decided I would follow and pop by a Japanese carnival.

Japanese carnival = Japanese food... how to resist?!

I think the brunch must have left me really unsatisfied, 'cos I didn't say "no" when Si suggested a "really good" congee for dinner.

"Congee? I don't think I can eat any more."
"But it's only congee!"
"But it's practically one bowl of rice!"
"No! It's only half a bowl!"

"Really good" congee? I think I won't trust the boys that easily anymore.

A frivolous Sunday, it seemed. But I came to some realization that day.

And that is, I don't really quite know my new home very well. I ought to be ashamed of myself, really. Just a simple afternoon moving from one place to the next to another, and I walked along streets I never knew existed, saw buildings that intrigued me, discovered new basketball courts, spied restaurants and eateries that interested me.

I even found out where the Central Library is! Hurray!

I've always wanted to run away from here, every time I feel upset and energy-less, every time I feel I need a fresh and different environment to find myself again.

I think this is what I can do, if I can't run away.

I can always pretend to be a tourist on Sundays. After all, there must be enough MTR stations : )

Puppy Love

2008-11-25T13:15:00.001+08:00

It was a very boring, end-November Tuesday morning...

Mojo: who this
Piper: ??
Piper: what?
Mojo: the dog - who is the dog!!
Piper: i'm piper
Piper: i cute hor
Piper: who are you?
Mojo: orh, very fair u've gotten
Piper: hahaha.... that's just what someone else just said
Piper: say i become snow white
Mojo: i am mojo. shall i scratch my balls? i am hot.
Piper: yeah... you look hot on the couch
Mojo: ya, but i remember u. u the one can swim one
Piper: yes honey
Mojo: hahaaa
Piper: hey
Piper: my mom's out of town these days
Piper: i can sneak out
Piper: wanna date?
Mojo: I KNWO!
Mojo: terrible
Mojo: huh?! go where?
Piper: grandma's busy with the stupid little kids
Piper: date lor
Mojo: ;) sure. we have a family here, we can take care of u
Piper: we go and chase cats
Mojo: ooh... i am scared of cats...
Mojo: i mostly like to watch tv and chew rugs....
Piper: huh? how old are you dude? still chewing rugs?

More like my bitch's flirting.

香港美女街

2008-11-23T23:51:00.003+08:00

Barely a week after the whirlwind trip back home after the whirlwind meeting, the chicks turned up in the Honks for a whirlwind weekend.

And it's time.

It's just about time they come visit their lonely chick here. It's time we relive the memories.

We first did it back in 2006. A crazy weekend in the Honks. Just a weekend in June, that took place just before my very final meeting with the then-company started.

Just a weekend, but it was enough to make lifetime memories.

Two and a half years later, we are still the same.

Very much has happened since. One chick has expanded her business but incurred more frustration and stress, run away on a soul-enlightening trip to Tibet alone on her birthday, scared us all with her once-frequent 'disappearance' acts, found a new 'hobby' that whisks her away to week-long trips to Japan and Korea. The other has very fortunately changed work twice, bought swanky new wheels, become a co-owner of a new apartment.

The last one, well the last one has taken a short break from the corporate world, said goodbye to the place where she spent her last six formative years, embarked upon a journey marked with unknowns, had one of the best times of her life pretending to be a sports journalist and TV presenter, suddenly had a new bigger family, packed her bags and moved out of her hometown, had her heart enlivened then broken again, met many new people in her life, gone on adventures in places she'd never had the chance to see.

So much has happened, yet so little has changed.

We still drink. As much, if not more. We still love to eat. A lot. We still crap and joke. The same kind that not many others share with us. We still look like we live in 美女街. But of course.

Most of all, we are still the same crazy chicks.

I think I cannot tell them enough how much I love them.

I just hope my hugs and my constant irritating rubbish over the msn can do for now.

One day, perhaps sometime another thirty years down the road, you'll still find the three old chicks hanging out as usual.

Maybe on Friday nights, maybe not. But definitely with drinks. And still cracking jokes at crappy Taiwanese shows.

Monkey. Gorilla. Chimpanzeeee!

2008-11-19T23:47:00.007+08:00

It's been almost two weeks since I've snuck home to crash a party. And all the lovely pictures are still sitting idly in my iPhoto.

I've just been really, really exhausted from the tedious meeting, the short-but-very-busy weekend home, and all the non-stop events in between. In fact, I don't think I've recovered from the fatigue, yet I'm busy churning out miles on the treadmill.

If I don't work hard, I can't play hard. Nor eat much. That's how sad turning 31 really is.

Tonight, I brought work home but I am too lazy to pull out the stupid computer now. I had a good speed work on the machine, a nice meal of miso-egg soup (yes, who ever dumps a raw egg into miso soup?), a hot bath, and now the droning of the washing machine only threatens to put me to zzz.

I'll work on my pictures and writing instead.

Just only three days back in the Singer land, but it had been really busy and eventful. As tired and severely zzz-deprived as I might have been, it had been really fulfilling.

It was a vacation of sorts, but I never did sleep in nor rest enough. I couldn't. Out of all 63 hours, I reckon almost 52 of them had been well-spent with beloved people.

Awesome.

Friday morning, I barely got home from the airport and a quick round of fish porridge supper (at River Valley!) and slumbered into bed, before Mom woke me up at 7 so I could crawl over into my ex-bed (where two adults, one kid and two dogs used to reside every single night) and lie next to my boy. Boy, surprise him I did.

I couldn't sleep anymore with all the action on bed. And the eagerness in the boy's eyes couldn't make me refuse walking him to school. Ah well, good time too to sit at the kopitiam and sip one cup of kopi-o on my way home.

I spent the rest of the morning, slurping up one entire pot of Mom's black chicken soup and keeping the other one stuck close to me. The other little monkey.

My own two girls, of course, had been hysterically crazy from the moment I stepped through the front door. Nothing would keep me out of their sight, neither them out of mine. Happy as they were, they were also looking rather unkempt.

I'd be a good mom this time, I'd bring them for a haircut. I'd also be a good daughter, I'd bring my mom out for lunch - to my favorite yong tau foo, of course.

I dropped the mom and little monkey at home, then took the ritual trip to Dean myself.

"My hair's boring, I don't know what to do with it. I feel like cutting it short."
"No! Don't! Keep it long."
"Yeah, I can't, even if I really wanted to. Unless I marry a rich man in HK so I can fly back every 3 weeks for a trim."

So I wasn't allowed to chop off my hair. Instead, I got more choppy waves in my hair.

"Did you perm your hair?!"
"Have you ever permed my hair for me?"
"No..."
"Then no!"

Yeah, my wonderful curls do amaze. And this time, I let him do the bangs - again.

"Okay, o-kay. You can cut my fringe. Just not that 'toot toot' one again, please."

So I think I'm mostly happy with my new hair. Less boring, but rather rebellious at times. I give up. I continue to live in ponytails and my multitude of headwear.

I picked up the girls on my way home. Just past 5. Great, I could do with a much-needed nap before heading out again for the ritual Friday night fare (read: booze and songs) with my chick.

But the monkey and the chimpanzee, and the two dogs, kept me busy the whole time. Mom was glad she could for once prepare dinner in peace.

I made brunch plans with the other bestie the next morning. And for once, I didn't feel like I have to have local fare. I was browsing through a magazine at Dean's when some article in the food section caught my eye.

I took the address and phone number down in my blackberry, emailed the bestie about the new place I found, and we were both happy to try something different.

I have always driven past the Fairways Drive along Eng Neo almost every morning for years. But I have never known what lies beyond those old gates. That morning, I was w-o-w-ed.

Between Mimolette and Riders Cafe, I chose the latter, because it looked more quirky while the former looked a tad too atas. A very, very peaceful and lovely way to spend a lazy weekend brunch, if not for the fact we had to keep the two boys from mischief.

"You always bring your nephew everywhere you go. Aren't you afraid guys mistake you for a married woman?"
"Do I care?"

I obviously don't give a hoot. : )

And what's wrong being a married woman? Well er, yes I suppose it is wrong if I am not married in the first place. =/

Yes, I had buffalo wings for breakfast. Yums. And yums yums to the benedict.

I got home past one, and I barely got enough rest, having to entertain the rascals before I had to change up, get some dog chow, then pick PY up for our road trip.

Babysitting is fun - but really exhausting.

I think this man has almost all his assets in these elaborate Lego models.

Impressive, actually. I just hope he's stashed aside some funds for milk powder.

And the real ~~excuse~~ reason why I'm back home for the weekend again.

God, I really miss the driving. But I didn't have to get stuck in traffic for it, no?

Congratulations, you two. And you two, too.

Weddings never fail to make me feel... sigh, happy.

Another breakfast on Sunday morning. And I thought Hanny was going to cook for me - but I doubt he did.

Cheat. Liar. Boo.

Yums anyways. And I miss you guys just that much.

Just a quickie, alas. Rushed home to pack up my stuff, including my Piper.

I was that close to smuggling her back to the Honks.

The encore - a family lunch at one of my favorite food haunts. That awesomely huge and mesmerizing Bedok food centre.

I had almost everything, yet still wanted more.

Some things will probably never change. Like my greed. =/

Goodbyes are never easy.

But they only make the hellos much sweeter.

The Real Thing

2008-11-07T03:46:00.003+08:00

Finally. After a disappointing prelude the night before, and a rather fidgety day at work, I finally came home to this.

And this : )

If these kids stumble upon this page twenty years later, 姑姑 might very well get disowned.

Prelude

2008-11-07T03:37:00.002+08:00

And a friggin' expensive one too at 70 Honks dollars.

I don't mind if it's Ang Mo Kio standard, but this "bark chor mee" is worse than even Clementi Avenue 2 standard.

Bad move =/

16 Months

2008-11-07T03:07:00.002+08:00

16 months, and still standing.

I hate to say ‘time flies’ because it makes me feel like I’ve been left still in my position, lagging behind the whole world as the grandfather clock insanely tick-tocks away.

More likely, I think I was the one that flew. Riding on a whirlwind. Much of it in pain and in frustration, but in equal parts too, fun and joy – and even a little bit of happiness. Sometimes it’s a big blur, other times a little too slow for my sanity.

Some of it surreal and dreamlike, the rest of it pure hard cold reality in my face.

Two months into my new life, I’d questioned myself, I’d wanted to leave.

Culture shock? No, not that much of an issue of living in a new country, I have absolutely no qualms living on my own, in my own space.

It was the work-culture shock, the brand-culture shock that shook me. I ‘grew up’ surrounded by passion. I lived, ate, slept, breathed the brand. I had lunch buddies. I had friends. There was quite nothing we never did together.

Here, no one talked to me. The business left behind was in such a mess that ‘shit’ alone couldn’t even describe it. No one seemed to love the brand. Everyone just came, and then went.

I did everything alone. Literally. Including cleaning up the shit. Especially cleaning up the shit.

But I didn’t budge. I didn’t leave. I am not a quitter. And somehow, I found some reason, some inspiration to stick it out and make it work.

I’m not sure if I’d made the right decision, still. Obstinate as I can be, I preach and I rave and I dream, and then I work. But as my dreams crash, so do my efforts, my faith and confidence.

Still, I stuck it out.

One fine day after 16 months, and it happened in the midst of sleepless nights at the long, tedious meeting last week, I realized. That sometimes when you work hard to your beliefs, you stick it out to your dreams, when you trust your heart no matter how painful it may be, things do happen. In big ways or small, things do happen.

I’ve made new friends, not many but enough, I hope, to last a lifetime, and crazy enough to give me immense joy. I’ve got a heart that had died, got revived, died again, but now pumping strong, all thanks to the kick-ass runs I’ve been clocking at the gym. I’ve been to places, many times ‘forced’ by an urge to run away from this ‘evil place’. I’ve had a blessed palate, sustained by an insatiable stomach and the all-encompassing openrice.com. I’ve made and shown off stuff this company is in dire needs of, and hell – I had gone through 16 months of hell for this.

All in all, give and take, plus minus this and that, put ‘em all on my Libran scale, I think I’ve had it good.

Sure I’d wish at times some things would’ve been better. But I really can’t complain. I don’t even dare to wish for more.

Everything else is already good enough.

珍惜一切　就算沒有擁有

Mail

2008-11-06T13:04:00.002+08:00

And let it be said once again - I love surprises.

(Though it really wasn't that much of a surprise, since I was asked for my address - again.)

Still.
I love surprise gifts in my mailbox.
Even if it ended up belated.

Thank you, dude.

N

2008-11-05T16:13:00.004+08:00

I so cannot believe it's already the month-that-starts-with-the-letter-"N".

Seems really long, yet not really long ago.
Seems really far, yet not really far away.

More More More

2008-11-04T00:01:00.002+08:00

I have no longer anything new to write about one of my favorite activities, and people, in the Honks.

'Cept, it is wonderful.

And so are they. : )

*****

Oh, and by the way, t'is what I had for dinner - again - last night.

Fatmama needs to lose some fats.

Oops...

2008-10-26T21:09:00.000+08:00

... I just stole a towel from the gym.

Ah well, my dish towel's just about getting ratty too.

Another 11

2008-10-22T02:33:00.003+08:00

對這個世界如果你有太多的抱怨
跌倒了就不敢繼續往前走
為什麼人要這麼的脆弱　墮落
請你打開電視看看
多少人為生命在努力勇敢的走下去
我們是不是該知足

珍惜一切　就算沒有擁有

If you see me these days being silly at my desk, smiling to myself, dancing and doing the occasional head-bob, mu huge-ass headphones to my ears, please do pardon me.

If you see me feeling a tad happier these days, please do allow me.

And if you suay suay start hearing me gush about someone these days, please do forgive me.

Listen to him. Hear him beyond the music, and into his voice and heart, the things he wants to sing about, and how everything comes together seamlessly.

And then wonder. How could anyone write like this?

In all honesty, I haven't really been that alone all this while.

So, it might really be true what they say. Happiness can be simple. As simple as even a song.

Then again, that's just me.

稻香 - 周杰倫

Comeback

2008-10-13T23:11:00.002+08:00

What better remedy is there to counter depression, what better comeback to a cruel return to harsh reality, than beef and mushrooms teeming in a hot claypot of soup?

Why, Hotpot Mondays, of course.

My boys. Oh, my YCHHHP boys.

You don't know how much I love you guys, I don't know what I'd do without you.

I will never know where to find the best hotpots in town without you.

Seven: 家

2008-10-08T23:30:00.002+08:00

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

My last day, and I oversleep yet again. And I have only fifteen minutes before the check-out time at 10.

I've got most of my stuff packed, I can't believe I actually have to pull out the extra bag from the luggage. And I never ever have to use, or even bring, an extra bag. My stuffing ability has been quite superb. I must've got some premonition this time.

I should be out by 10-half. And then, let me think about how to spend the rest of the day.

My breakfast plan is ruined. So I can only do one lunch. Dammit.

I should have about 5 hours or so to spend in town, until I have to leave for the airport. Then, I will do one last bento box at the airport. I love the food in the Haneda airport.

And I love this route between Honks and Haneda. The departure timings on either way are sure damn weird, but oh, Haneda is such a blessing. It usually takes me more than two hours to get to Narita from town, but I zip to Haneda in about 30 minutes.

This definitely sounds so much more humane.

Anyways, I am also thinking about that pair of boots I saw last night but hesitated buying. I told myself, if the boots haunt me the whole night, I will run back and buy them before I leave.

Let me see if they still haunt me after lunch. And if something else can take them off my mind in Daikanyama.

I didn't actually quite plan on visiting Daikanyama this trip, so I didn't yesterday. Not that I love Daikanyama no more, I still do. But I really am in a desperate bid to stop myself from buying more than I really need.

But this morning, I cave in. I think I have nowhere else to go. And I think I really, really quite miss it. So Daikanyama it is.

And I'm pretty sure I am in control. After all, I don't have much more space in my luggage anymore.

By this stage, by the way, I think I am starting to slip into mild depression.

And the rain that hasn't stopped since last night is not helping me at all.

I know... don't cry for me, Tokyo. You gotta make this easier for me.

I am getting into quite a pathetic fix now. The rain has come and gone a few times, but is now looking rather serious. I don't have a brolly, I only have my hooded sweat as a pathetic raincoat. My stomach's growling, but I refuse to settle for just anything.

Even though, I don't even know what I'm looking for.

The feel has got to be right at least.

I walk and walk in the rain, and am about to give up finding something that interests me... when I see something that interests me.

A noodle shop! Tucked quietly behind a tiny lane.

Awesome. I can never have enough noodles. And I think I haven't done much noodles this trip anyway.

Figuring out the menu is a bit of a challenge here, but I manage to make out this place serves udon and soba. I can't decide between my udon in soup or my zaru soba.

In the end, I decide to do something I don't usually do: soba in soup. And some sanma.

The soup turns out a little too salty as I drink more, but the soba taste pretty neat in soup. I can't say any more about the sanma, but really, trust the Japanese when they recommend fish in season. They usually never go wrong. The fish, I mean.

Again, a dish that makes me think of home. Especially on a cold, rainy day.

I manage to make my way back to the subway in the rain - but not before picking up a beret. Yes, a beret like the one you put on your head.

I have already decided. The boots. So I run back to Harajuku as well to pick them up.

I am well ahead of time. By the time I pick up my luggage and get to the airport, I should still have plenty of time to enjoy another bento. Or maybe, a Freshness burger.

But the bento never happens. Nor the Freshness burger.

I get to Haneda, walk past the burger and the bento shops, but decide I should check in first - just in case. And then, I find out I am in the wrong terminal.

I ask around for directions, and after a while, someone who finally speaks decent English manages to direct me to the shuttle bus stop.

So, I have to take a bus to the next terminal. What about all these bentos and burgers? Eat now? Come back later? Well, I think they should have at least the bento shops in the international terminal.

And they don't.

I check in, and I see the longest queue ever at the departure gates. I have only about an hour and a half left.

Fuck, there is no way I am going to make it, if I return to the domestic terminal for the bentos.

The last bit of the trip has turned out a huge disappointment for me.

I am in the official state of depression.

Six: 温泉玉子

2008-10-07T23:30:00.003+08:00

I wake very deliberately today.

In fact, I don't feel like waking up. If today never starts and ends, there won't be a tomorrow. And if there's no tomorrow, I don't have to go home.

I am also feeling a tad funny. I have been a good girl for the past few days, I haven't been drinking much, just that mug of beer or little bottle of sake here and there. I sure as hell escaped the birthday madness back in Honks (my Gorgeous happens to be my near-twin, so there was a party even in my absence). In fact, I think I've been well-hydrated with tons of water, o cha and the addictive milk tea. Half my time in Japan, I think I've been stopping by every other vending machine to pick up a bottle of milk tea; the other half, looking for a toilet.

So then, why is it that my throat is feeling lumpy and scratchy, my body is feeling sore and tired?

It's just my body's natural reaction to that allergy called "work", I tell myself.

Anyway, there is no time for me to stay in and laze, no excuse for me to fall sick. There's still food to be eaten, though honestly I am getting more and more undecided about my meals. Too much desire, too little time.

And then, today is finally the day I am allowing myself to roam freely around Harajuku and Shibuya. I've been very good, holding off the shopping. But now, come to think of it, I'm getting a little worried I might not have enough time.

Ah well. Lunch first.

I've been wanting to try this little chazuke shop right inside the Tokyu Food Show at Shibuya for the longest time, but it has always been packed. I think my timing's right today, it's just slightly before lunch hour.

Chazuke's one of my favoritest Japanese meals. And it's also one of the most non-mindblowing foods. Basically, it comprises of good ol' plain rice, with some toppings like fish or meat or veggies and seaweed, and some green tea or broth which is poured over the rice.

Yup, you got it. It's just Japanese porridge. Well, more correctly, green tea porridge.

I love chazuke so much (as I do porridge or congee of any sort), I do that often at home. Real no-brainer. Cook the rice. Pour some toppings (I cheat at this stage, I haven't tried using any fresh toppings, just some packeted dried toppings from the supremarket). Boil a pot of green tea. Voila! Dinner's a happy meal.

(Another no-brainer rice recipe at home involves plain ol' rice, a soft-boiled egg (and it has to be Japanese) with the yolk still runny, and a few drops of Japanese soy sauce. You break the yolk, mix it into the rice with the soy sauce... mmmm. I always think I'll easily survive any wartime.)

So much for my love for chazuke, I do actually try looking out for chazuke shops everytime I'm in Tokyo. Strangely, I have never seen one - other than this tiny one at the Food Show. I suppose this is really more like home-cooked fare.

Anyway, I stand outside the shop for a while, because like usual, I cannot decide which topping to go for. There's the one with tuna, and there's the one with salmon. But I decide in the end I'll go for the "special" - the one with sanma, or 秋刀魚.

Fish in Japan is seasonal, and I've heard one of the best fish in autumn is sanma. However much I'm missing salmon, I think this should be a better choice.

The chazuke is quite a cheat - instead of green tea, I am given a pot of broth instead. Bummer.

Still, it turns out really good. Let me see, "good" in what way? Sometimes you eat something that warms your heart, that makes you miss home. Yeah, this is that good.

The sanma is really fresh and yummers, I just wish the portion is huger.

I'm gonna do this with miso salmon when I go home.

I am not going to tell you what I've bought, or how much I've disgustingly spent on my shopping trip. I think my free roaming has turned into a frantic run-loose. So let me tell you what I stupidly chose for dinner instead.

Let me first also explain why I decide to choose what I've chosen.

I was about to step into Yoshinoya. Laugh all you may, but I totally dig Yoshinoya in Japan. It's the usual beef rice bowl that I go for, but the one big difference about Yoshinoya in Japan is that they offer a fresh raw egg to go with your rice bowl.

Fresh raw egg! And seriously, anywhere else in the world, I might not have dared to do this.

So after days of procrastinating, I decided I was finally going to do the Yoshinoya. Then just right next to Yoshinoya, I stopped in front of this other shop. Amongst the many other items on the menu, I spotted this beef curry rice bowl - with a raw egg.

And I started thinking, yeah there's also the Japanese curry I've not tried this trip. So, there's the beef, the curry, the egg, all in this one dish.

Bingo.

I don't know, but I think I'm a tad disappointed. The beef tastes good on its own, and with the curry. The curry tastes alright with the rice. The egg goes with the rice, and maybe the beef.

But altogether, it seems not right.

I finish the beef... but the curry's just too much for me. I conclude this might just be a lousy shop.

I'll stick to Yoshinoya in future. And I'll stick to curries of the Indian sort, and Mom's of course.

And speaking of eggs... you know how excited I get talking about eggs, don't you?

I love eggs of all sorts - fresh, cooked, salted, thousand-years-old. And I love them cooked in any way - soft-boiled, hard-boiled, raw, poached (yumms), omelette, sunny-side up, scrambled, what else?

The eggs in the bento boxes I've had this trip have gotten me very excited. They look like they're hard-boiled. But when you tuck into it, you realize the white is totally firm like a hard-boiled egg, but the yolk is totally runny like a soft-boiled egg.

OMG - how the fuck do they cook it this way?

I couldn't let it go just like that, so I tried my darnedest to describe these bento box eggs to my friend Junko. I think she must have been quite perplexed to hear her Singaporean friend talk so animatedly about an egg, but the sweet soul finally decided what egg I was talking about.

"Oh! Onsen tamago!"

Knowing that the gem is called onsen tamago (traditionally, eggs cooked in the spring waters of onsens) is only half the joy. The other half comes from the knowledge that "you can buy an onsen tamago cooker from Tokyu Hands or Loft!"

Which is what I did today. I went to Loft, scoured the floor, and actually found an onsen tamago cooker. At only a little more than a thousand yen, I proudly declare this baby the best buy of my trip.

(Of course, I saw plenty other household items and kitchen ware that I really think I can do with, but I had to convince myself there's no way I am going to be able to grill fish in my apartment.)

Let me test this baby once I get home. And we'll see how my onsen tamago turns out.

In all honesty, I am starting to feel really lonely.

I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that I have not really spoken to anyone for the past five days. There's no one for me to talk crap to. Half the trip, I subconsciously wish I had someone next to me whenever I see something really funny and some stupid thought starts brewing in my mind. My voice breaks whenever I open my mouth to say "excuse me" or "thank you".

I really want to talk to somebody. Anybody!

Maybe I do need to go home.

Five: 伊東

2008-10-06T23:30:00.004+08:00

*Yawn*

I don't know why, but I think I stay up later, sleep much less, expend more energy, get more exhausted on my travels. Like this one. Am I not, like they say, supposed to get "well-rested", "well-rejuvenated" during a holiday?

Well, "rejuvenated" maybe. "Rested", definitely not.

I'm going on another excursion today.

Have been pondering over it over the past couple of days. Should I? Should I? Should I? Is it really going to be that good? Can it be better than what I've had in Hokkaido? It's a freakin' two-hour train ride away!

And it's "two hours" if I stick to the train schedules, get on the right lines and all.

Well anyway, I made up my mind last night. I will make this trip because one, it is in the name of food and a food adventure is no food adventure if you ignore good food. Two, it will continue to stop me from the evil shopping. And three, I will forever be taunted by this conversation if I don't make it:

Japanese: The best sushi I've ever had in Tokyo (where he lives) is not in Tokyo. It's more than an hour's drive away. But I swear that is the best.
Singaporean (that's me): Really? Really that good?
Japanese: Yes. You have to go.
Singaporean: Er... on my own?? How??
Japanese: Take the train. But it'll take about two hours. I'll give you the directions.
Singaporean: Er... okay... Are you sure I can find it on my own?
Japanese: Just ask around.
Singaporean: &^$*^&#((@*! (read: fuck you, I don't speak Japanese!)
Singaporean: Okay look, I'll be going to Hokkaido and doesn't Hokkaido have the best sushi? Are you telling me this place is that good?
Japanese: (smirking) Well... up to you if you want to find out.

So it is that smirk I'm challenging. Or, is it really the lure of good fish?

The directions were kindly sent to me over email. I printed it out and tucked it into my luggage gratefully. But it was not until last night that I had a good look, and realized things are not going to be that perfect.

There is the name of the shop. But there is no address.

There are the train directions (only one route). But there is no walking direction from the station to the shop.

Okay. I have to do some extra homework now. And I did, for two hours the night before.

I am quite proud of myself. I think I've got the right address, I draw some ugly map that I think only I can understand. And I figure out some other alternative routes too - just in case.

I have to catch the 9:13 am train first. Just so I can reach there in time for lunch at noon. Hmm.

The alarm rings at 7.30. I get up, grab the phone from the table, but I snooze it. My eyes aren't even open.

I am having some nice dream when suddenly... I jump up from bed! Fuck! It's 8.55!

I hurry to wash up and change. And then I run to the train station. But I get there right on the dot at 9.13 - I am lost suddenly in the crowd, I don't know where the gates to the line is, I don't even know where to buy the ticket.

In Japan, when the train schedule says "9.13", it means the train leaves at "9.13" - not a minute earlier, not a minute later. Japan time is obviously not rubber time, like Singapore time.

I am not even totally awake, I only woke up barely half an hour ago. And I am getting upset. More pissed with myself than anything, of course.

I don't know what to do now, it's not even 9.30. I buy a coffee and sit at the cafe. What to do? What to do? What to do?

Okay. I will never be at peace with myself if I never try "the best sushi in Tokyo but not in Tokyo".

Screw the directions. Screw the screwed-up timing. As long as I know Point B, I will somehow find my way there from Point A.

I go to the ticket office, and tell the officer I would like to get to Itō. I show him my crumpled directions, and he laughs mockingly. Apparently, the directions being given to me are being scoffed at. He blabbers some stations I should change trains at, says it will take me two-and-a-half hours, then asks me for 3,700 yen for the ticket.

I scoot out.

I will find my own way there. I look at the list of alternative routes I took down from the internet last night, and I think I might know. I head to the ticket machines, say a little prayer, and buy the first ticket.

Here goes the real adventure now. And it's 10 in the morning.

I've had a little confusion at the Tokyo main station, which almost made me give up on this adventure midway.

But all's good now, and I think I am happily en route to Itō, where the "the best sushi in Tokyo but not in Tokyo" really is.

I kinda like the train I'm riding in now, it is so made for tourists. Though I suppose we could've been luckier with some nicer view - it is cloudy and foggy out there.

Itō is 120km south of Tokyo, and belongs to the prefecture of Shizuoka. It sits along the eastern coast of the Izu Peninsula, and as I ride past the ocean, I figure Itō is much like a beach resort for the yuppies in Tokyo. It is apparently an onsen haven too.

I finally arrive at Itō, and it's half past noon. I am happy to see a quiet, local town. A mixture of old and new. It looks also like a tourist town.

There are really many shops selling fresh fish. I think I am not being duped.

I waste no time in looking for 寿司金. I'm already very late in my schedule, and I don't want to be stuck out here the entire day. I have a faint idea of figuring out street addresses in Japan, it's not definitive nor conclusive, but at the very least, I think it leads me in the right direction. That actually helps a lot.

I do what I always do when I'm looking for something cluelessly - walk and walk, round and round, weaving in and out of every lane and hole.

And that's how I finally find 寿司金.

I am pleasantly surprised to find it in a back alley. A very nondescript shop, I wouldn't even think it would be a sushi restaurant, but I am very positive about the words "寿司金" at the door.

I step in, and I am immediately greeted by a very tiny yet very homely place. Other than the small counter, there are only two other tiny tables. The rest of the space is filled with cupboards and cabinets. And a TV hanging on the wall. I might have very well stepped into someone's living room.

I look up at the wall, and I see a picture of Alberto Fujimori, former President of Peru, sitting at my very seat! This must really be good shit!

I am also very warmly greeted by Grandpa and Grandma. And another lady customer sitting at the bar. They are in a midst of a conversation. Auntie must be a regular here.

It is also established very quickly, the fact that I don't speak their language, they don't speak mine, and thus communication is going to be a big problem with this foreign customer.

I can read their minds, and I think they must be wondering how in the world they would ever have a foreigner walking into their shop - by herself. Does she even know where she is, and what it is that we do?

I smile, and in my very broken Japanese, tell them I am a tourist, and the only reason why I am in their shop is a Japanese friend who tells me Sushi Kin sells the best sushi ever. And then I show them the email and the hand-scribbled address and directions, and tell them I come all the way to Itō to look for their sushi.

I can see they are very surprised and very happy. Very impressed too, because they keep telling me how far away Itō is from Tokyo and how in the world did I ever manage to find them.

I ask for the menu, Grandma shakes her head, and Grandpa points to his bar where all the fish is. Ah, that is the menu. What you see is what we're serving today.

Okay, now how am I going to know what fish I'm looking at? And then, I remember another conversation:

Singaporean: Okay, so when I get there, how do I know what to order? And how do I order?
Japanese: Just ask them what's good. That's what I usually do. Ask them to serve me what's good that day.
Singaporean: &^$*^&#((@*! (read: fuck you, I don't speak Japanese!)

I don't know how to tell Grandpa, "Please serve me whatever's good on your menu today" in Japanese. So I point to his precious treasury of fish on the counter, bow slightly and say, "Dozo".

I think Grandpa understands me perfectly well, and embarks on slicing up fish after fish for this strange Chinese girl sitting at his bar.

I think today I am eating fish I've either never eaten before or eaten very rarely. No salmon but anyway, I've heard that ironically salmon is not the Japanese choice of fish for sushi.

Grandpa feeds me quite a few different kinds of fish. For every one that is wonderful, I ask him for the name and I jot it down. Just so I can make a re-order later before I wrap up my lunch for good.

All the fish Grandpa serves are indeed really fresh, really good, really orgasmic. But two fish remain on my mind that day - katsuo (skipjack tuna) and aji (horse mackerel). Just when my tummy's about to explode, I ask Grandpa for another serving of katsuo and aji.

At the end of my meal, Grandma brings me this bowl of salmon miso soup. I feel like I'm floating to heaven.

I have absolutely no regrets for taking that long train ride out here just for lunch. In fact, I think I am going to come back here the next time. And maybe go for an onsen soak then.

I am not throwing away those hand-scribbled address and directions.

And so, you might ask me, "Is that really the best sushi in Tokyo but not in Tokyo?"

I smirk and say, well... maybe, possibly... up to you if you want to find out.

Four: 誕生日おめでとう

2008-10-05T23:30:00.004+08:00

For the very first time in her life, the Queen is alone and all by herself, far far away in a foreign land, though a much-loved one.

And if the Queen has to make a wish today - just today - it'd probably be that she wishes she would somehow get lost and not make it back home, so she could live in the foreign land for the rest of her life.

Now, that's exactly what's called 'wishful thinking'.

I am feeling very easy, very relaxed, very light today. Just right for a still-sunny Sunday.

I've been on constant vigilance of the weather forecast. The dreaded rain might just hit anytime. Which would then be very 'bleh'.

I wake at the first alarm, but I stay in the horizontal position, drifting in and out of snooze, till I finally roll out of bed at ten.

That's fine. I've got time today. I've got plans.

Nope. No shopping still today. My resistance is holding up very well.

But I will continue to eat, of course. And then, a game to go to. And then, an old friend to catch.

I feel like I have new legs this morning. Thanks to the cooling patches I found at the drug store last night, and which I left overnight stuck to my legs. And so, I find the energy again to take on another mission for lunch.

Yatta!

I am exploring a totally new route, a totally unfamiliar area today.

I do much random research for food from resources everywhere - friends, travel guides, blogs, internet. But the same problem persists. How do I know which of these named restaurants would really turn out good and therefore worth my precious effort?

Remember, I only have that many meals during my stay. They are all precious.

This time, though, I decide to stop being so anal.

And so, a name is picked from my travel guide. I look at the address which totally looks alien. It adds, "Exit A3 from Awajicho Station".

And that's it.

Right.

Someone once said, "An address in Japan is like having no address at all."

Well, I find it. I can't be totally sure, till I see the menu. But it is packed, there is a queue at the front, and people are still streaming in.

I'll skip the details on how I did it, because I can't really remember. But anyway, it's really quite near Exit A3 - just that it's stuck somewhere in the middle of one of the many streets behind A3.

Ah. A pretty, traditional-looking restaurant. It specializes in soba, one of my favorites. It has only elderly ladies serving the floor, who look like they all deserve at least a 20-year service award. Very pleasant and polite though, not one of those grumpy obasans.

And it doesn't accept credit cards, so I am now really looking forward to my food.

I do a simple classic zaru soba. And I add on a prawn tempura, just in case my stomach starts grumbling by 3pm.

I love the fresh handmade soba, but it'd be sweeter if they upsize the portion a little. The moment I slurp up the last strand, I give thanks for the prawn tempura.

Oh, and yes, this is also the first time I see a prawn tempura that does not look like a prawn tempura. But who cares? When it tastes way better than most other prawn tempuras out there.

But the best bit of the meal?

The sobayu they serve unexpectedly just as I am about to finish the soba. This alone adds many points to the score.

The first and only time I've ever tasted sobayu was almost a year ago during a business trip, when the bunch of us was brought to a rather upclass restaurant. I fell in love with it immediately, but I have also never seen it ever since.

Verdict: I will embark on a soba mission next.

It's only just about past noon by the time I finish my meal reluctantly.

I have tons of time before the game starts at two, and the Tokyo Dome is only about a couple of stations away.

Nonetheless, I figure I should still head for the Dome and check out the rest of the place first. Sounds more interesting than where I still am right now.

The minute I get out of the station, I am ecstatic!

A roller coaster!

Thirty one freakin' years, and I have not had a single ride on a roller coaster.

I think I will give myself another treat today, but not before the game starts. Just in case.

I am getting very excited about the game now. I have been thinking about this for a long time, and this was one of the first things-to-do I'd decided upon the moment I decided on this trip.

I checked the schedule on the web site. They are indeed playing a game specially for the Queen on home ground! Why not?

So I bought a ticket online, with some help of course. Very cool.

It's past one-thirty, and I think I should get in and take my seat. Maybe take another piss in the loo, buy some food or beer.

But I almost get squashed on my way in, and I don't know how long it actually took before I get past the gate. Looks like the house's gonna be packed today.

The game starts very punctually at 2. The home team Yomiuri Giants are taking the field first, and they hold the visiting Chunichi Dragons at bay with zero run and three quick strike-outs. But the home run from the Giants first batter is the one that is making me very, very impressed.

But the impression is not staying for very long. The runs from either team remain at a nought, until another home run from the Giants in the fourth inning. And somewhere between the fourth and the last ninth inning, I almost doze off.

A final home run in the last inning seals the game for the Giants with a score of 3 to nothing. I have never seen a baseball game that scores only on home runs.

(Suddenly, I am missing writing for Red Sports =/)

Then again, I haven't really seen that many baseball games live.

A bit lonely and feeling weird sitting through a three-hour game alone, but still... very pleased with my birthday gift thus far.

I finish the day, having dinner with Ai-chan and her mom and dad.

Next summer, I'll go hang out at the beach with Ai-chan. Ai-chan's mom says I may. : )

Babies are the cutest things in the world. Next to dogs.

Three: 東京

2008-10-04T23:30:00.002+08:00

I am not feeling very spirited this morning.

One, I'm leaving Hokkaido in just about four hours.
Two, I cannot make up my mind what to eat for my last meal here this morning.
Three, the sun has come out after taking a break from work yesterday.

It is indeed such a beautiful day. Sun's out, yet the breeze lingers on. Perfect for a walk.

I do need a walk after all. I have already scooted out from the room (because I have to), and chucked my luggage at the storage. Since I can't decide what to eat, I shall take a walk around and see what might interest me.

I should have a good two hours before I need to jump on the train to the airport.

Lovely day. The sheer activity along the streets tells me it is a lovely day.

I suddenly remember some place I have yet to see. And that almost immediately gives me an idea how I will spend the next two hours.

I will do a lovely breakfast picnic at the Odori Park. So I pop in quickly at the food market and grab something. Well, which of course can't be all that quick if there is so much around to tempt me. Finally, I settle on yet another pretty bento box.

Sweet.

There seem to be quite some festivals and activities going on. A kiddo dance competition taking place at the main station tower, which I would surely love to watch but I really can't. Some open house at some government house with a lovely lake, someone's painting by the water.

Then, there's the famous Sapporo Autumn Festival, which I think I am actually in time to miss.

Shite.

I probably will never be able to tell what exactly makes a park so fascinating that people flock to it. Not the fountain, I hope? Maybe to the kids, yeah.

But I think what does make a park fascinating to me is the people you see, the things that happen.

Kids, babies, dogs, old folks, young couples, cyclists - you name it, you get it.

Maybe the greenery makes me feel very happy too.

A perfect spot to just sit and literally watch the world go by. I just got to find some nice tree for some shade first.

I find my perfect spot under huge canopies, and right next to the thrash bin. But that's fine, because at least I know it's there. You might not know, but it is such a bother to me having to thrash something in Japan.

It is actually such fine weather, I think I might have gotten a little flush in my face walking to the park. I need to remove my cardigan.

Which I quickly put back on after a mere few minutes.

I set my bento box on my lap and am ready to tuck in. Mmm. Mmm. MMM.

I check out the benches to my left and right. Ah, a couple of ladies are having a nice breakfast (or, is it their early lunch?) as well to my right. What a nice change from Starbucks.

Pigeon is hounding them. Lady hesitates to offer any food. You know what that does to a pigeon. Right, he will next summon all his friends over for some free meal.

Nice move, lady.

I am barely halfway through my own breakfast, when I notice Pigeon has given up on the ladies and hopped over to hound me instead.

For a split moment, I think I see Piper.

Oh, what a pesky fella this one is. Not quite giving up on me. None of my yummy rice for you, sucker.

I cannot be bothered with Pigeon, because I am too caught up admiring every single bit of my bento box. But all of a sudden, I realize he's gone.

I look up, and look around... Ah! There the dude is... with all his friends now.

Some uncle has decided to make friends with them.

Nice guy.

Oh by the way, I am so newly in love with the onsen tamago.

It's that egg with the hard-boiled white and soft-boiled, almost raw yolk. I have never had that outside of Japan.

How the hell they make that, I've been puzzling over the past couple of days since I first had it in my other bento box.

*****

I'm finally done with my time in Sapporo, and on my way to the airport.

*Sniffles*

I am amazed with the New Chitose Airport of Sapporo.

So many things to buy. So many people hanging out there. I think it's more of a shopping mall than anything else.

I am also very impressed with the ANA staff at the New Chitose Airport.

Especially the dude who serves me.

Because he speaks perfect American-English (what the hell is he doing at the check-in counter?). And he is so, so, so, so cute.

*****

I managed to jump on a much earlier flight from Sapporo, since I had grossly miscalculated the timing and ended up arriving so early at the airport for my domestic flight.

Cute-san looked a tad frustrated, trying to change my flight. But I might as well have done that on purpose anyway because he looks much cuter with his furrowed brows.

Anyway, it's about four hours later, and I am back in Tokyo, lugging my bags to the hotel.

Almost losing sensation in my legs, but actually feeling lots of love in my heart.

I am being so tired and lazy, I almost got stuck in the room - all thanks to some hilarious dance show on TV.

But it's getting late. I think it's almost 7. I should get out, take a walk, feel the vibes, and get some food.

This is my second time staying in Ikebukuro, but I have never really once explored the place. I do know my way really well between the hotel and the subway though.

Well, this place is full of life!

Which lead me to pondering a little: if there are thousands of people (maybe tens of thousands?)here in Ikebukuro on a Saturday night, how many thousands of folks are there in Shinjuku and Shibuya and Harajuku and other areas and how many are actually at home watching TV?

I'm glad I came out.

I actually do think I should explore the food in Ikebukuro.

But I am really clueless, where to go, what to eat. I put that down to my exhaustion. I think half my brain has gone to bed.

So I will just grab some yakitoris at one of those izakayas near the hotel.

The two, or three, beers I have should tuck me in really nicely tonight.

Two: ジンギスカン

2008-10-03T23:30:00.000+08:00

The alarm is ringing, and it's half-past-four Friday morning. Wait, that's Honkers time. So, it's really already 5.30.

I wake very easily this morning, simply because I haven't even really slept at all. Which is really yikes!, because I know I was terribly beat by the time I flopped on the bed last night.

It was probably the fear of oversleeping that resulted in the sleeplessness.

Yikes.

I am out of the room by 6.30. I am so nervous about catching the first train out at 6.53, I don't even think about food for breakfast.

I have to start my day early today. There are long trips to make, places far and away to see. And I have to make it back to Sapporo before dusk.

The skies are looking gloomy outside.

For one, it perhaps is still too early. My eyes are still dry, my head is spinning, and my stomach is starting to feel the emptiness.

Two, it is bad weather from the forecast today. Rain. Eighty percent.

I am deciding whether to read a book and stay awake, or to take a nap for the next 49 minutes. I can't miss this stop, because I can't miss the next train, otherwise the whole schedule's gonna be all screwed up.

I'd better stay awake.

I make a very, very quick pit-stop at Takikawa. Quick enough to only spend more money at the vending machine.

I am quite addicted to the milk tea.

I hop onto the next train, and it is the tiniest train I've ever seen. It reminds me of Thomas the train engine and all his friends. Within another 63 minutes, I arrive at Furano - the starting point for today's adventure.

Furano is dead quiet. Like, really dead.

Yes, it's only nine in the morning. Still, no town should look this dead. Pretty, but chilling.

Nothing to distract me here, so I will have to now decide on the next route. Too many ideas, too little time.

And my stomach's finally screaming. But thank God this is Hokkaido.

Here, you find little standing kiosks selling hot noodles or bento sets in every single freakin' train station - inside and outside.

This one is "outside".

And this one's kinda a cheat. Cooking instant udon from a packet. Well, it still feels good to have hot soup warming up your chilled body.

I finally decide I will travel up from Furano to Naka-furano, to Biei, then finally to Asahikawa - where more food awaits.

Apparently, that's how I will get to see some of the most beautiful bits of Hokkaido. I only want to see autumn leaves, 'cos all my life, I have only seen green leaves and no-leaves.

"Naka-furano" means the middle of Furano.

And I think the whole of Furano is about flowers. Like different, various kinds of flowers that bloom in every different season.

Before I see those flowers though, I see at first that Furano is almost exactly that kind of quiet, peaceful, beautiful place I want to live in when I finally decide to write a book. Well, not that I'm really thinking of writing a book, but this is how I feel being in Furano.

No real map to help me here, so I am going to have to rely on my guesses.

And I realize I've made a wrong guess only after walking for fifteen minutes, stopping occasionally to smell the flowers and take some pictures.

So I turn back, and pick up my speed. Till I finally see the first flower garden - what they call the "Lavendar Park".

I think the lavender season is way over, so I don't get to see the flowers in their best bloom. Or, blame it on my lousy photography skill. And I can blame it on my lousy camera.

If there's anything I could really say to any one of these Naka-furano-ites (once I have mastered the language, of course), it would be: "I want your house."

Why not?

It faces either the rolling fields of flowers, or the mountains. It is not sitting right smack in front of the neighbor's face. It looks quirky, to the point of being ugly - but ugliness in the beautiful way. It comes in colors that only people in this country would approve of.

If I can't have that red container, I would like to build one with blue walls and a white roof.

I hope I am not invading private property by talking about them all here.

I think by now I have been walking for almost 45 minutes. What with all the stopping to smell flowers and take pictures.

I can start to feel it. The ache in my legs.

I finally see the last signboard that is leading me to Farm Tomita.

Farm Tomita is probably one of the must-see tourist attractions in Hokkaido, and loadfuls of tour coaches drive in and out by the hour.

Lucky them.

Other than a huge plot of land where flowers grow, there are also shops that sell lavender potpourri, foodstuffs made of lavendar, stationery made with lavender fragrance and of lavender designs, and most of all, lavender ice-cream.

I don't know why I would bother to walk all that distance to visit Farm Tomita since I am not into flower photography nor lavender potpourri.

Oh, I know. They say, you have to try lavender ice-cream.

MMmmmMMmmmMMmmmmm. Orgasmic.

There must have been some misjudgement of timing on my part, because all of a sudden, it's half-past-one and I am running out of time.

And now, I have just missed the next train out of Naka-furano. Which means, I have to wait for another whole hour for the next one to come by.

It takes some skill to make quick decisions in situations like this, but I make up my mind rather easily.

Skip the rest and go straight for the food. So my stomach says.

Asahikawa is a city in central Hokkaido that is the starting point to some of the most beautiful mountains and onsens of Japan. And it purportedly is the coldest part of the country. Temperatures here can go as much as ten degrees lower than in Sapporo.

I think I am feeling that already today. Darn the stupid rain too.

Maybe it's the dreary weather, but no one seems to be out on the main street of Asahikawa. The shops look quiet, but they don't interest me today.

I have only one goal here. They say, yes it's true, you can find some of the ramen in Hokkaido, and especially in Asahiwara.

And the same "they" also say, I should be looking for this shop call Tenkin - without giving any address.

Thank God, I can be rather smart.

Don't ask me how I find it. Just walk around cluelessly in and around streets - you will see it.

I am trying something different today. I will do the shoyu ramen, since that would usually be my favorite choice.

Let's put the soup difference aside - well, this Tenkin stuff has got to be the best ramen I have ever tasted. From the texture, to the chewiness, to the flavor of the noodle.

I should rightfully give up on instant noodles.

Very lovely folks too. I have slurped the last of the noodles (but I just cannot bring myself to finish the salty soup), paid for my happy stomach, and am about to leave the shop. I have to run, because there is a train in half an hour I need to catch.

"Would you like to take an umbrella?"

My heart feels quite warm now, and I give the obasan my widest grin.

Daijiobu.

*****

I am back safely in Sapporo, and the weather here is just as terrible.

There is one other place I have wanted to go to, and it's now, or never. But seriously, I am getting really, really bloated.

Should I? Should I? Should I?

Okay, the map says I can just follow the main road right where my hotel is, and just go down a few streets.

That sounds walkable. And pretty close.

If not for the silly rain, this might've been a more pleasant walk.

Okay I cannot lie now, at this point.

This is the real reason why I've always wanted to come to Sapporo, and why I am finally here.

The birthplace of the biru.

Well, apparently, another of Hokkaido's most famous dishes is this weird-sounding one called ジンギスカン. Or Jingisukan. Which really is "Genghis Khan".

Unlike the beef yakiniku I so love from the rest of Japan (and Korea), ジンギスカン specializes in lamb.

And I don't do no lamb at all.

Still. I have flown all the way here. And I darn well try some lamb. And I'll order some beef as well - just in case...

I finish all the beef.

I finish all the lamb. And I think the beef sucks. But the lamb is awesome.

Did they switch the meat around?

One: 札幌

2008-10-02T23:30:00.000+08:00

You don't really need any good, sensible reason to eat in the Nippon. Especially when you see something that looks this pretty and beckons you to "come forth and eat me, onegaishimasu".

I am on my way to a new Nippon city, where I've heard food is even more orgasmic than I've ever thought it could be. Probably more so than this pretty little bento box I've just picked up at the Haneda departure lobby.

I know, I should've just skipped this one and saved my gas for the final stop. But I am greedy. I am easily seduced. And it's only seven in the morning, it will be another two hours before my plane takes off, and probably another six more before I get to eat something in Orgasmic Food City. So, I am pardoned.

I am excited. From the moment I see the mountains and the greens from the window of my seat.

No - from the moment I made up my mind and booked this ticket.

I am excited when I step out of the station. The weather is wonderful. The wind is chilling. The air smells fresh. The buildings look quirky. The people look gorgeous but also more normal.

I am most excited because I am finally here, where I have always wanted to be.

In Sapporo.

It's only almost noon, and still a little too early for check-in.

I love all these budget hotels in the Nippon - they are clean, they provide free in-room internet connection, they give you everything (and by that, I mean, shampoo and conditioner). But I think sometimes they've just got to learn to be a little more flexible.

I get on with all the check-in procedures, nonetheless. They assign a room to me. I pay. But just no fuckin' key.

I dump my load into the luggage, dump the whole luggage with them. And I head out, without a shower.

Food before cleanliness, I suppose.

I know where I am going.

They say, "you've gotta do sushi in Otaru". I figure my way there. I think I'm seriously getting pretty good with figuring out all these kanji names.

I hop on the train again, for a thirty-minute-or-so ride. But I love what I see en route - the ocean.

小樽 is pretty. So fuckin' pretty. And it turns out very touristy, though. So I start supposing the little town has been prettified for the tourists.

I find it a cheap thrill, that they have all these rickshaws running around the roads!

Not trishaws, not like the ones on bicycles in Singers.

But rickshaws, like you have to pull them with your bloody arms.

And unlike the trishaw riders in Singers who are either old uncles or Chinatown bengs, the rickshaw pullers in Otaru actually look yummy.

I walk all the way to the famous Otaru canal.

I don't really know what the fuss is about this place, with all the tourists crowding around it. But it sure is a pretty sight. They say, you ought to see the canal in the evening, or at night. But I don't think I am looking for the romantic feel, and I love it the way it looks now. Against the blue blue sky.

There are old folks selling their craft and skills along the canal. Couple of them are singing, some are selling dolls, oil paintings and handcrafted accessories. I wish I could have my portrait pencil-sketched by one of the old men.

But I am really famished. So I have to move on.

Distraction!

I see these giant takoyaki-ball lookalikes. At 380 yen, I would've easily grabbed one. But it's freakin' huge - the poster says it measures 8 centimeters in diameter and weighs 200 grams.

So I resist.

I walk some bit more, and I finally find it! Sushiya-dori Street. Which basically just means a street full of "sushi houses".

I have absolutely no clue at all, so I spend maybe the next twenty minutes strolling up and down the street, wondering which house to enter. I don't know how I should choose. See who has prettier plastic foods in the window?

Finally, I decide. I will go to the one that looks old and authentic, simple and unattractive on the outside.

Round one.

MMmmmmMMMmmmmmMMMmmm.

Never had such orgasmic uni, ikura and otoro before. Like they practically melt and you can feel the full fats washing your entire mouth before flowing down your oesophagus.

Round two.

MMmmmmMMMmmmmmMMMmmm.

Never had such orgasmic uni, ikura and otoro before. Like they practically melt and you can feel the full fats washing your entire mouth before flowing down your oesophagus.

Verdict.

Otaru probably has the most orgasmic uni, ikura and otoro I've ever had. Like they practically melt and you can feel the full fats washing your entire mouth before flowing down your oesophagus.

And I am so bloated from just two rounds, I don't feel like I can eat anymore for the rest of the day. =/

It's almost 4.

I have to head back and get the key, so I can take a nap. I am feeling so full, and so sleepy now.

And I need a shower.

*****

Oh dear. It's almost 8.

I haven't had my shower, and I feel like I cannot wake up from this drowsiness.

But I have to get out. I haven't really felt the hunger yet, but I think I should have dinner.

Ah. It really is cold at night.

Train or walk? Train or walk? Train or walk?

I decide to walk. As usual. After all, I haven't exactly checked out Sapporo itself. And I want to work up that hunger.

すすきの is the next place I want to go to, and unfortunately it seems like a red-light district.

But strangely, I love Susukino. The lights, the energies, the good-looking folks walking around. And I know I won't be hassled, so I'm fine.

And just like the sushi street in Otaru, there is a Ramen Yokocho in Susukino. And it basically means a street full of ramen shops.

But unlike Sushiya-dori Street, this one is just a tiny, packed lane lined with ramen shops. The shops themselves are equally tiny. Some have no customers at all, some have long snakes of hungry people queueing outside.

Once again, I spend another ten minutes or so, walking up and down the lane, wondering which ramen shop to try.

This is easier. Skip the empty ones, and join the queues.

And of course, I am so smart. I pick the shop where SMAP has been to.

Hokkaido is famous for its ramen. Apparently, here you find one of the best ramens in the whole of Japan.

I am loving my huge bowl of char siu miso ramen. I have to do the miso ramen, because I think it had been invented in Hokkaido, and so it means you have to do miso ramen in Hokkaido.

Verdict.

MMmmmmMMMmmmmmMMMmmm.

I am never going to do any more ramen outside of Japan.

Prelude

2008-10-02T00:25:00.004+08:00

And the Fatmama sets out again.

And what good timing this is. No drinks on birthday = no dramamama emo fest.

This would be a good time to fix that tap :)

It's weird. I've never flown out this late.

And I've never seen the airport this empty.

Stay tuned.

Pre-31

2008-10-02T00:11:00.002+08:00

Oh what a night. What a week.

What a mess.

Some sweeties from work popped a surprise upon me last week.

A tad earlier than it ought to be, but there was no way we were going to miss anyone out. Not on my special day.

I ended up being emotional and silly again, but I was too touched and it was really too much for me to bear.

Then again, the tap has been out of control lately.

For all the wreck I am, it's a wonder how I am still loved.

So, I have to pick myself up and be good for everyone again.

Promise.

Love

2008-09-23T15:55:00.003+08:00

And my baby turns eight.

How time flies, I really don't know.

But I sure know how a parent feels, that ironic fear of losing a child before his or her own time on earth is up.

Strange, but very real. And very, very unsettling.

What's worse than a long-distance love relationship?

A long-distance love relationship where the longing and feelings cannot be expressed over email nor the fuckin' telephone.

Mucked

2008-09-17T03:31:00.002+08:00

Drinking = Stupidity
Therefore, No Drinking = No Stupidity

This is probably the millionth time I swear I'm going to stop drinking.

Hilton "Deadend"

2008-09-14T23:30:00.002+08:00

Good morning.

It's Sunday morning, and I'm still in my PJs, lazing in bed, watching silly romantic comedies I never get sick of.

And it's cold and rainy and dreary out there, while my friends are probably enjoying the lovely moonlight, burning candles, eating mooncakes with their loved ones right now.

I'm back in Boston, baby.

Nice view this time, though.

I can change without having the curtains drawn. Very nice.

But not like it really matters.

I have only one simple goal for the week.

I will make darn sure we eat some awesome steak.

Ouch!

Still hurts a bit.

イケナイ太陽

2008-09-09T10:32:00.002+08:00

It means "bad sun".

See, I just knew it sounded bad enough.

Theme Song

2008-09-09T01:37:00.004+08:00

Do you have a theme song for your life?

I do. And I don't have just one. In fact, I have amassed a few, at different points of my life, depending on the state of my being.

Like right now, this is my song.

I don't really know what it means, but it sounds happy. It sounds naughty. It sounds mad. Just like the me I know and miss.

It pumps me up. It makes me want to move, just when I can't find any motivation to.

Ikenai Taiyou - ORANGE RANGE

What motivates you?

I hope you know. 'Cos I know it sucks not knowing. And the frantic search for it makes it even worse.

And I suppose just a song ain't gonna really work.

I didn't work hard this Monday, though I said so I would last week.

Screw me.

I have Tuesday.

Homesick

2008-09-06T13:56:00.000+08:00

I can't believe one week has just flown by.

I miss the kids.

Hungry Fool

2008-09-05T01:06:00.002+08:00

rl2000 says: i like gals who eats and think like a guy
ME Inc. says: i think i eat like a monster and think like a child
ME Inc. says: is that bad?

I really think that sounds really bad.

Home

2008-09-04T23:38:00.003+08:00

... is still where the love, and the food, is.

: )

The buddies accommodated my schedules. The mom cooked my favorite foods. The girls fought over me. The boy drove me nuts. The little one wouldn't take her eyes off me, neither would I let her out of my arms.

I think she actually looks like the baby Me, so I think she'll look all fine when she grows up. Lucky her.

Oh, and I wore my new kicks and almost got killed.

I love going home. : )

Maria

2008-08-29T12:10:00.003+08:00

Sleeping is good.

But too much of it apparently is not. Not especialy when it causes you to miss a effing flight home.

No, I am having no mee pok ta and I am not going to have a lighter head by "this time" today.

EFF EFF EFF.

I am really not very happy with myself right now.

In fact, I don't know exactly why, I don't know exactly how, I don't know exactly since when, but I have not been very happy with myself these days.

I hide. I lie. I pretend.

I run away when I really want to stay. I laugh very hard when I really want to cry very bad.

I don't care when I really care.

The companionship might've been like a youthful yet cruel summer vacation, the friendship heartfelt. But losing it is probably the most painful to endure now.

If, and when, it is really lost, I might wonder if everything had been real, or just a very sweet dream.

I need some time. And I still need to run away.

But I know I will come back soon.

And I so can't wait to see my baby Piper.

In 24

2008-08-28T17:53:00.002+08:00

This time tomorrow, I would already have digested a bowl of my beloved mee pok ta to make space for Mom’s chicken soup, and then some bak kut teh perhaps.

This time tomorrow, I would already have dog pee all dried up on my jeans (I bet she’s gonna do that on me when she sees me).

This time tomorrow, I would already have gotten a hug and kiss from my favorite boy (and that I have to spend five hundred Honks dollars to buy).

This time tomorrow, I should already have a much lighter head.

One thing for sure, this time tomorrow, I will be out of the office. And I won't be needing to pretend.

心酸

2008-08-28T17:51:00.002+08:00

I think I might just have made a mistake...

Shush

2008-08-27T15:56:00.002+08:00

I think I'm trying a little too hard.

No! Not Again!

2008-08-26T00:12:00.001+08:00

Now, seriously. Whoever does hotpot on a freakin' Monday night?!

We do!

Galbi'd

2008-08-25T06:56:00.002+08:00

Well, I did say I was looking forward to August, didn't I?

Nah... wasn't so much for the summer Olympics though it did keep me entertained at times and if not for it, I would probably have died happy on my couch while watching my dumb Taiwanese shows on cable and never have flipped to the local channels.

Not really so much for the last, and probably the best, bit of summer - though I have never seen so much sun and I have never seen myself this brown for the last twelve months. Typhoons totally suck though.

Nope. None of the above.

The only thing that really thrilled me in August was eating Korean beef in no other place than Korea.

The bonus? The weather, summer making way for fall, was oh-so-perfect. And those pretty boys, and girls, who seemed to have nothing better to do on a Thursday morning but stroll the streets of Myeongdung.

Still, nothing beats the cow.

I am not showing you any picture of the best beef, though. Because the best things in life are not meant to be shared. Though the truth of the matter is, I was so stoned silly and I gobbled it up so fast before I snapped back to reality.

Ah. August has come, and almost gone. And when it's gone, it'll be September.

I just hope I get through September.

I Have No Patents... Yet

2008-08-23T02:35:00.004+08:00

Like they always say, good things come in threes.

And like I always tell/convince/justify to myself, there are times when you just have to get all good things in threes.

This is not going to be on my Christmas wish list, no worries.

'Cos they're probably gonna be sold out by then.

Gracie's Six!

2008-08-23T00:25:00.002+08:00

Happy birthday to you
Mommy's horrid but she's kinda busy too
But Mommy really hasn't forgotten about you
You're gonna get a big hug and kiss and birthday bone soon

Contrary to very popular belief, Mommy really loves you too.

And Mommy really thinks she's pretty good at writing birthday songs, she's contemplating writing (another) book of them.

These days, Mommy is really missing her two girls. This one's just turned six, which only brings to her mind, with much horror, that the other one's turning eight soon.

How can it be?! How can something that still looks so cute be freakin' eight years old?!

Mommy's horrible. But Mommy's just been having it rather tough recently too, and she thinks she might have gotten some things sorted out. And Mommy's thinking she has to start on some new grand plan - some plan that should include her two babies.

Be good. Don't bully Grandma. And don't let the rascal bully you.

Mommy's coming home soon.

xx

Pranked

2008-08-12T00:59:00.004+08:00

Big Guy, I know I like making fun of people and laughing.

But that doesn't mean you should do the same to me.

Sometimes, enough is really enough.

I don't know, I'm getting very tired. Very worn out.

Maybe I think I should keep it shut for a while.

I can't wait to run away again.

T8

2008-08-07T02:13:00.001+08:00

You know what?

I don't know what I'd done wrong too.

Große Scheiße

2008-08-05T11:47:00.000+08:00

I just had the H-U-G-E-S-T dump ever.

And there I was, sitting on the toilet bowl, and I wondered…

I can’t believe I had that much shit in me.

(Thank God, I did not have the foresight to bring the camera with me into the bathroom…)

"Name the Cartoon Character" Contest

2008-08-03T12:20:00.003+08:00

Send in your entries, and stand to win some fatbulous prizes.

And of course, that's not me.

Burned

2008-08-01T14:56:00.002+08:00

It's been a long tiring week, having to keep the energy up, lift the spirits high, put on a smile and make the folks around me laugh with crazy antics like winning a ten-ounce steak-eating competition at midnight and putting up an impromptu "Insensitive" performance at the lounge bar.

It has been a long few weeks.

I probably wouldn't have minded it all. Except I still don't feel quite right in my heart, something seems to ache. And I wished I had at least picked a better song.

I only want to sleep. And I really want to go back to my movies. That's where I probably feel I really live.

So I did. I slept, then I woke to watch the life of Matsuko. Which is really resonating in me right now.

I really don't want to die alone too.

Gorgeous is apparently inspired by me, and he's where I want to be right now.

Stop making me jealous.

Red & Marbled

2008-07-30T21:06:00.000+08:00

Mmm... nice.

Very, very nice.

Jolted

2008-07-23T02:44:00.003+08:00

Seriously. What the fuck have I been thinking?

No wonder I am called the stupid one.

The One With Gorgeous

2008-07-21T21:31:00.002+08:00

Seriously. I have to stop torturing myself like this. On a Monday, too.

Now I can't wait for August. (Then September... then...)

Inertia Explained

2008-07-21T13:12:00.002+08:00

I've seen dudes succeed through drug, alcohol, sex and gambling rehab programs, but golfers can't stop golfing.

Exactly, Scoop. My sentiments.

77 Days

2008-07-20T23:08:00.002+08:00

Sure I miss being there and hate being back here, but I'd be lying if I said there is no more joy in food. Especially if it comes red and very marbled.

Still, I'm officially in devastation.

Being taken away from fantasy is one thing; being thrown back to reality is another.

I wonder if running away will be my destiny.

I'm gonna hibernate my credit card for the next two months. I've got more than enough stuff now, I shouldn't be needing anything else. Anyways, I should throw myself into some hard work too.

And then... and then... when my birthday comes, I will do it all over again. : )

The Kidney Theory

2008-07-19T23:10:00.003+08:00

Now I know why I would instinctively buy two of everything: two bowls, two plates, two glasses, two cups.

Because I am the clumsy girl.

And There Was Fish

2008-07-18T02:02:00.006+08:00

I suppose it would be true to say that, any trip to Japan is time and money wasted if you have not eaten any fish nor seafood in the land of sushi. Who the hell would believe I had gone to Japan for four days, if I don't have any sushi picture story to tell?

So what I failed to accomplish the day before, I had to do it on the last day. By hook or by crook.

Even if it meant sacrificing sleep. Well, I did lie in bed for forty-five minutes, but got zero snooze before the alarm rang at half-past-four in the morning.

My last day would eventually turned out the longest one, and probably one of the most memorable ones.

The sky in summery Tokyo was almost bright at five. The sun was not up yet, thankfully, and the cool breeze (which actually made me shiver) made it such a beautiful morning I forgot I was supposed to be dead tired.

The beautiful moment turned out to be brief, unfortunately. I'd hoped the streets would be quiet, the short stroll to the subway would be energizing. I'd thought, at five in the morning, I would be riding the subway with the early working birds.

But have I mentioned anything about the seedy area where I stayed? It is very seedy.

Brown-skinned chicks with golden hair and lashes thicker than their thighs, in short-short shorts and high-high heels, laughing and stumbling with their ah-beng companions (got, Japan got ah bengs one) toward the same subway. Gangs of dudes with golden spiky hair, and their black suits and black sedans parked along the street.

They all scared the hell outta me.

I'd never expected I would be riding the early train with the early drunk birds instead. Not one, not two, but a flock.

So the Tokyo subway does not just reek of that stale alcoholic breath at 10 in the pm.

I must've been really tired. I went all of thirty minutes up the wrong track.

In the right direction, but just the wrong track. Nothing a short cab ride couldn't fix.

The minute I got off the cab, I got lost, simply just staring at the world's largest fish market in front of me. I am totally zonked and absolutely famished. I don't know where to start, and I don't know when I'll actually get to taste the fish.

When in doubt, always follow the crowd in Japan.

So far, so good. Seems like I'm on the right track. I'm beginning to see the shops outside the market, selling everything from knives to tee shirts. The fish must be somewhere nearby. I don't know how I derive that, but that must be it.

Tsukiji's full of buzz. It is not at all one of those tiny, smelly wet markets where fishmongers shout/chat/flirt with your mom or mine. In fact, not only is it not tiny, it is surprisingly not smelly. Well, at least to me, because I have smelt the worst. Trust me.

Tsukiji's full of important people who go about their work with utmost seriousness. After all, they must be very important people, if they run the most important wholesale fish business in the world. I actually feel odd, like a fish out of waters (no pun intended). I don't know where to take my next step. I don't want to get in the way of the important people striding around from stall to stall. More importantly, I don't want to get knocked down by the various vehicles zipping around and inside the market.

Seriously, if I was one of them important fishmongers in Tsukiji, I would get very irritated by all these stupid tourists with their cameras, crowding around my tiny stall, getting in my way, making all kinds of nonsensical squeals in excitement. What am I? A fish in an aquarium?

Anyway, so far, so good. Until I decided to follow the wrong crowd: the other silly tourists.

So I found myself in middle of it all. The auction was over by the time I got to the main selling square. All I saw were some leftovers getting hauled to their final destinations.

I am ignorant; I have never seen fish this huge, other than the ones on the pages of National Geographic.

The market is huge. I still had no idea where the sushi shops were, and they didn't seem anywhere in sight. So I literally walked through almost all the fish (and oysters and mussels and prawns and octopus and squid and...) in that entire market, in search of the ones that were ready for my stomach.

I wanted to stop and take a picture of a man cutting up a huge fish, but I decided against it. I didn't want to be that silly tourist.

I was getting really upset. So upset, I started to wonder if I'd been cheated. Maybe there are no sushi shops here! Bloody hell.

Then, somehow - I can't remember how - I found them. The tiny row of sushi shops all tucked away at one end of the entire marketplace.

No, wait, let me rephrase. I finally found those few sushi shops hidden amongst others selling toast (yes, toast?!) and noodles and more knives and more tee shirts, all tucked away at one end of the entire marketplace.

Just as it had been with all other adventures, getting started was the tricky bit. Which shop should I try first?

And especially on days when you don't feel like you have a big stomach, the first one becomes crucial. As well as my philosophy too.

When in doubt, always follow the queues (which really are organized non-moving crowds) in Japan. Especially when it obviously is the only queue around.

I queued for about ten minutes, before I got to the front of the line (incidentally, there was no line that formed after me... ) and found out what I'd been queueing for.

Ah so, this place is famous for its maguro, and its maguro. It even specifically states that it does not serve sake (the fish, not the drink, and it should be read: if you're a silly sake-eater, please go somewhere else).

It was one of those moments where, for whatever little Japanese I can read, I was grateful for being able to figure out the most important ones: まぐろ and とろ. Tuna and its fat belly.

It didn't really turn out to be a sushi meal, not the kind of sushi I expected anyway. The sushi came in a huge bowl - the toro, all six fat slices of it, topping a huge serving of rice. A big breakfast meal complete with a bowl of miso soup.

Damn. How am I ever going to do my restaurant-hopping now? I have massive plans for the rest of the morning before I have to hop on the express to the airport at 2.

I walked out of the shop, completely satisfied, almost bloated. Becoming really sleepy too. The breakfast took a while, the bowl was simply too huge. It was strange as well, that the shop full of breakfast patrons was absolutely silent as everyone else went about their meals.

I can only think that everyone else was probably experiencing multiple orgasms like I was.

I refused to leave the market. I couldn't have sacrificed my sleep, ridden on a train full of drunk zombies, gotten my legs all splattered with dirty spots, endured an excruciating hunger for almost an hour - for just six pieces of fish.

It didn't take me many more steps before I stopped in my tracks again.

Unagi shop!

The shop was totally empty. The boss was sitting at the counter by himself, reading his papers. Hmm, not a promising sign. Should I should I should I?

Then I noticed the magazine and newspaper cuttings plastered outside the shop. I walked in.

The boss, a happy dude by the name of JJ (yes, as in roman letters 'J' and 'J'), stood up immediately, put aside his papers and greeted me with the loudest squeal that I couldn't understand.

The next was a question: "Chinese? China?" "No, Sin-ga-po-ru!"

For the rest of the morning, he squealed to me only in English that I had to strain my ears very hard to comprehend.

JJ is a happy little dude who didn't look like he came from Japan. He spoke English, Mandarin, amongst other languages, all of which sounded incomprehensible at first. Immediately after sending my grilled unagi order to his kitchen, he set about a series of tasks, all of which seemed to be SOP to me.

First, he handed me this photocopied A3-sized piece of paper. On it, I realized were some handwritten "common Japanese phrases" a tourist could usually do with - complete with the relevant English translation. Most of them were related to food ordering. He taught me how to order a set of anything, from tempura to tonkatsu to unagi, of course.

He got impressed when I said, "Itadakimasu!" He said I was very polite, said I knew my manners. Then he taught me what to say at the end of a meal.

Next, he brought out this huge book. A guestbook! Complete with greetings and photographs of patrons - mostly silly tourists like me. He handed me a pen, and I knew what I had to do.

He then pointed to the wall next to him. A wall I'd already noticed the moment I walked into the stall. A wall full of pictures. Of silly tourists like me of course. And then, he said...

"Oh, you know Jay Chou? He came here twice. See his picture there?"

My heart stopped.

My pulse raced. Is it the summer heat that's making me sweat?

I stood up, walked to the wall, stared right at the corner where he was pointing toward. It was Jay, alright. But a cut-out picture from a magazine.

...

The next move was predictable: he whipped out his digital camera. Snap! I would soon be part of the wall. Nice.

Okay, I don't think there's nothing more he could possibly do. I can enjoy my unagi in peace now. But he kept himself busy still. He pulled out a piece of writing paper and set it upon the counter. Then he took out a brush and some ink - wait a minute, a brush?

He started mumbling about something, as he started to draw. I had no idea what he was up to, so I went back to my unagi. When he was finally done, he beamed as he held up his work in front of me.

It was a calligraphed name. He had made a self-painted advertisement for his unagi. He wrote his address at the bottom of the drawing, so I would either remember where to find him or tell the whole world about his unagi.

How smart is that?

And the unagi? It was so fat, so soft, so tender, it literally melted in my mouth. Another new standard set.

Ok. I'm done for the day. Plans might be a little screwed now, I cannot imagine stuffing any more food inside me. I am really in need of some snooze, but I have to pack and get out of the hotel by 10.

Now I have four hours to do nothing. I cannot eat, I shouldn't shop, so I think I will hang out in Shibuya, find a cafe and crash in there.

But another name had to be dropped on me again.

"Okay you should try UORIKI in Shibuya."

Now, when it is a "you-should" kind of advice, and the name is spelt in BLOCK LETTERS, there is no way I can just let it go.

But if it's really something that good, it must also be something very hard to find.

And am I really hungry?

I am a sucker. I couldn't resist the mystery and the temptation - the calling of another adventure.

This would be my final meal and I would stuff it down my throat no matter how or what.

With only one English address I managed to google on my berry, I sought the help at the city police kiosk like a real damsel-in-distress. I looked very insistent and they looked very puzzled why I would want to go through all these trouble just to find a fish shop.

Looking for something in Tokyo is a very stressful thing to do. The address you have in your hands will probably not help you much.

But I actually did it.

Again, I ordered the first thing on the menu I could read: miso saba. The shop is tiny, the menu hangs on the wall at the front, I don't want to hold up the others trying to figure out the rest of the menu.

It was nothing I'd thought about this entire trip, but miso saba doesn't sound bad at all, though while waiting for my food at the counter and sneaking peeks at the other patrons around me, I realized shio saba was what I'd really wanted.

I forgot I wasn't supposed to be hungry. There was nothing that needed to be stuffed.

The miso was a good idea after all, I finished the entire huge bowl of rice. I've always liked my saba grilled, but this one was awesome. The oily taste of saba was more subdued but well complemented with the miso. Best of all, it was huge and meaty.

And I think I helped myself to five servings of the pickles.

I think I am really, really done for the day.

I really wish I don't have to go, but at least now I think I can leave in peace.

*****

There was no way I was going to end my wonderful eating trip by ruining it with lousy airplane food.

I skipped dinner on the way back, and had two Asahis instead.

And I fell deeply asleep for the next two hours before I awoke to realities again.

Straight, Wide & A Pair of Dungarees

2008-07-17T01:20:00.003+08:00

Did I say I crashed big time the first night after my big udon adventure?

Well, I did. And so plans for Day Three were kinda mucked up as a result.

I can’t even remember slapping the alarms shut at four in the morning, but I must have. Because I had the sweetest sleep (in a bed that was really okay if I wanted to be nice), totally undisturbed, all the way till almost lunchtime. And even then, I didn’t really want to wake.

I was that tired.

But I didn’t come all the way to Japan to sleep. Which brings me back to the point again why, seriously, I had decided to run away to Japan out of the blue.

The shoes are a lie. The eating is not. It’s just one half of the Plan.

Basically, the Plan is simple.

Just spend lots of my hard-earned money in my favorite foreign land. And in that foreign land that I speak of, there are easily two ways of doing that: eating and shopping.

See, it really is a no-brainer. My favorite foreign land makes me happy. Eating makes me very happy. Shopping makes me happy. Spending my hard-earned money on things that make me happy makes me happy.

Therefore, being able to spend money in my favorite foreign land by eating and shopping should make me a very, very, very happy woman.

Because I failed to wake at four, and as a result, failed in my original mission, I figured I should just dedicate Day Three to the other half of the Plan. Anyway, I'd get to eat (hopefully something wonderful like yakiniku mmmmmm...) when I meet the folks from the office in the evening.

Lunch was nothing grand at all, just to keep the stomach quiet. I ended up in an unofficial slurping competition with the demure-looking, hanky-clutching housewife sitting next to me in a soba shop, but the guy sitting on my other side beat us both hands down. We were all done in seven minutes or so. A no-nonsense affair, lunchtime is in Japan.

The first stop was a no-brainer. Daikanyama it had to be. Harajuku can come later.

Problem is, I've never figured how I always managed to get there - by foot. I can never remember how to get there from scratch. The last time I did it, I walked in rounds, turned corner after corner, for a couple of hours, before I finally stumbled upon that old familiar cafe.

Then I found out, I was dumb as dumb can be.

"Just go to Daikanyama station."

Huh??

And then I found out, it is not my fault if the Daikanyama station is not printed on any of the subway maps I have. I actually scrutinized my maps for days before the trip.

The entire subway map is complicated enough, I agree. But what does it matter to just add one more tiny dot and print one more name onto it? Isn't Daikanyama famous enough to justify that dot?

I am not the dumb one.

So I checked with the hotel staff, who looked at me like I was stupid, but ended up the dumbfounded one when she couldn't find it on the map that she had.

I eventually found 代官山 on the fare chart at the station, figured that must be it (I know 山 = yama, and '代官' sounds like 'daikan', so I am NOT dumb), followed the crowd blindly to the transfer subway line and up the train that was waiting.

Train's moving. I see 代官山 on the next dot! Good!

But the train didn't stop at 代官山. It zipped past 代官山 to the next station.

Muckin' express train.

Well, at least I didn't take two hours to get there this time.

Harajuku came later indeed. That was the only other place I managed for the day.

And I don't wish to remind myself of the self-inflicted damage, so all I can say is:
(a) my hat collection is growing but thankfully not the shoe count (not much anyway),
(b) good tee shirts should never be passed off,
(c) rubbish should seriously be passed off even if they are cheap and too pretty,
(d) I discovered and invested heavily in Japanese denim,
(e) my niece is the luckiest little kiddo in the Lee family right now.

Oh, and:
(f) shio takoyaki can be nicer than the one with the usual okonomiyaki sauce,
(g) beer quenches your thirst in the midst of summertime shopping better than plain ol' water.

My yakiniku dream didn't come true. Neither did the unagi.

They didn't care, but honestly I didn't either. I am easily seduced in Japan.

Even if they made me eat right next door to the office. =/

I didn't even care if it was yakitori again. Because it was the first time I had it grilled with only salt. And now I am in love with yakitori grilled with nothing but salt.

But I do care about that chicken.

That chicken that made the stock for the NABE(!) broth. That chicken that you fish out from the broth and dip into the tare sauce mixed with some broth, before putting it into your mouth.

I don't know if it's the chicken or it's really the tare-broth mixed sauce. I cheated - I didn't dip. I let the chicken swim around the sauce, and soak in all the dark sauce.

And only then, I put it in my mouth, and started behaving the idiot at the dinner table again.

I hope that isn't rude behavior in Japanese culture.

ごちそうさまでした!

うどん

2008-07-16T02:30:00.004+08:00

Seriously? My real reason for coming to Japan in a flurry?

One word.

And it’s not just any udon.

Very much inspired, since two months ago, by the movie Udon (what else?), I decided a trip is not a trip unless I do something crazy. And so I did.

I booked a flight to a very local city named Takamatsu, in the Kagawa prefecture. Where the most famous Sanuki udon is born, and still breeding very flourishly.

The movie Udon says, you have not tasted udon until you’ve tried Sanuki udon. And me being me, I chose to believe.

Of course, when I decided on the side trip and when I made the phone booking for the flight, I hadn’t really thought about the real problem. I never considered if I could even accomplish my mission in a Japanese town that probably speaks 0.005% English. Until…

”If you ever get lost, it’d probably take two years before the embassy finds you…”

Which doesn’t really sound like a bad idea. Really.

So it’s kinda disappointing now that you’re getting to read this.

It turned out as well a trip of other ‘firsts’.

For one, it was the first time I took the monorail with many other locals to the domestic Haneda airport, who all looked like they had just as important missions to accomplish for the day as I did. It was also the first time I took an ANA flight.

One thing for sure: I have never felt this excited boarding a plane since... well, that’s for me to know.

Takamatsu reminds me of Phuket.

Well, at least for the brief moment I got off the plane and took my first step out of the airport.

Blue skies, happy sun, nothing but the sea in front of you. And the limousine bus waiting to bring you to town. It was the perfect summer holiday, it seemed.

I had absolutely no idea about Takamatsu when I landed. Only some Japanese brochures that told me about mountains and gardens and seas, but nothing about udon. And the fact that I wanted no mountain nor garden nor sea, but only udon.

Kagawa is the smallest prefecture in Japan, and it is said that on this island, there are about 800 Sanuki udon shops, the bulk of which are found in its largest city, Takamatsu.

Not a surprising fact, if you see a standalone udon shop every other minute during the bus ride to town.

I wasted no time the minute I got off the bus at the last stop – the main Takamatsu train station. I had only about six hours left before I had to head back toward the airport.

So I started walking.

Clueless, directionless, helpless. Still, I walked. I didn’t exactly know what I was looking for, but I knew the good ones must be hiding somewhere. And they had to be the cheap ones.

And that was where I made my first stop. That would be breakfast part ‘A’.

To the uninitiated (or should I rightfully say, to the ignorant?), udon seems just like one of those simplest fare in the world that goes as an accompaniment to other meatier stuff and only serves to fulfill the “carbohydrate” portion of your meal. But as I learned from the movie, udon is anything but simple. And true to its essence, the movie tells you about the pride of udon masters (mostly grumpy obasans and ojisans) and their works; it tells me at least, that the only way to appreciate udon is to taste it unadulterated.

And “kake” is the word. (I think.)

Oh, and may I add, you probably can’t get udon this cheap in Tokyo. Good udon. All of 150 yen.

Okay, I must confess. 150 yen buys you a ‘sho’ portion. Which means ‘small’. Which in turn means it only tickles my stomach. Which really means I could very well have parts B, C, D, E for breakfast, or whatever.

Summer’s terrible in Japan. And it was probably a bad idea to have kake udon in summertime.

It took me about 45 minutes to find the first shop, and I was done in ten. My perspiration had not even evaporated by the time I slurped the last bit of the soup and stepped out on my way for number two.

Oh oh oh. I have to add this now. Nothing feels greater than the fact that in Japan, you can SLURP like your mom’s not around.

Anyway, walking around aimlessly looking for udon shops in summertime is no joke. It is a feat only for the hungry (me) and the desperate (me again) and the mad (me me ME!).

I walked around in loops and turns, completely ignoring the map (what map?), got distracted a bit by some shopping (yes, there are things to buy in Takamatsu), and my stomach was finally getting really grumpy.

I couldn’t find any more of those quiet little udon shops. Strange as it may sound, but where I was roaming around, it is probably much livelier at night, full of izakayas and other bars.

By day? It is quiet to the point of being almost ghostly. Well, Takamatsu is almost ghostly by itself, anyway.

I was getting really so irritated, I decided to hop into some shop that looked like part of a chain.

Bad idea, perhaps. But my philosophy? In Japan, no food is bad food. Not even chain-store food. Just like my Yoshinoya.

Second round was zaru udon. Probably the wiser choice for summertime.

And when you eat it cold, you get to taste the real Sanuki udon – firm yet chewy, like it bounces back against your teeth with every single bite. It might not be flavorful, yet every mouthful of it only makes you yearn for the next. ‘Sho’ is really a bad idea, but I am on a mission.

Still, I suppose ‘zaru’ is best left for the soba. Udon should go with its shoyu broth.

I hit the street again immediately after round two.

I walked for two reasons: one, of course, is to look for the next udon. Two? I had to freakin’ walk off all the udon just so I could have more.

This time, I was more surprised at what I stumbled upon. My favorite Paul! And another one. So many Pauls!

Honestly? The stomach was still not quite happy after round two.

The search had to speed up.

And then, I saw it. A very homely-looking shop that had some smoke coming out from the window that doubled up as a walk-by storefront.

It would have been awesome if I’d stumbled upon some really homemade, traditional udon. But it wasn’t. Takoyaki it was instead.

No, no takoyaki. This is a udon mission. But it looks so cute. It smells good too.

Okay, just TRY SOME. Don’t fill your stomach with it. Just TRY. SOME.

There wasn’t any technogically advanced system working in the shop. Just a granny. And she’s probably a granny who drives a Nissan March cuter than my car. I had to wait a long while for my eight tako balls, and I wished she sold some biru in the meantime.

TRYing was only the devil’s advocate. Those takoyaki are probably the best ones I have ever tasted. Chewy chewy chewy chewy, with giant bits of tako. No mayonaise like the Japanese, just the sauce, thank you very much.

I gobbled up all eight balls in a flash.

By now, it was already two in the p.m.. I had only about two hours to go, before I had to seriously figure my way back to the main station.

The takoyaki made my stomach rather happy. But I wasn’t. I had only two bowls of udon, far off from my target.

Two more hours, two more bowls. That will be it, that’s the plan.

I found the next bowl in an ugly shop. I can’t describe it, I don’t know how to. But it’s just ugly. Looking like an old school tuckshop, the shop had a stern-looking woman serving the udon, it played cheesy Japanese music that sounded like it came from the ‘80s, the walls were beige and completely bare, and the ugliness stood out more because it was way past lunchtime and I was the only patron. It was just ugly.

The kake udon was probably its only saving grace. And that’s all that really matters, no?

Quarter to three.

I had ventured too far out, or so I thought. The heat wasn’t the only thing that was making me sweat now.

The final plan? Start making my way back to the station and keep my eyes open for any interesting udon shop along the way.

I think I did the second part pretty well, but not the first. Because an hour later, I found myself back at the takoyaki shop! I had been following not the road signs, but anything that might look like an udon shop, and ended up walking in one big circle.

It was almost four, and I was really fucked.

No more mood for udon.

I haven’t mentioned the finer details, but I was getting really tired. My back was really breaking, my knees were really burning, I was getting really burnt from the sun.

By now, I really didn’t feel like walking one more step. I just wanted to sleep.

If I still want any more adventure in my life, I’d better start getting serious about my strength and endurance training.

The one thing I’m still proud of, though, is my navigation skills. Very important for adventures like this.

In no time, I was back on track toward the station. I just had to keep my eyes focused.

Last round: right outside the station itself. And it turned out my favorite of all. Maybe because I could finally sit. Or maybe, it’s just that freakin’ egg.

I zonked out completely on the 45-minute bus ride to the airport. COMPLETELY. I hadn’t felt this tired in a long while.

It sounded only appropriate if I followed by saying I zonked out all the way on the plane and on the train ride back to the hotel, and I crashed into bed till the next day.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I looked for headphones in Akihabara, got hungry (YES, after four bowls of udon and eight tako balls, hunger struck) and thirsty, settled for yakitori and biru in a cheerful crowded standing (fuck) bar, got my nose pinched umpteen times by some weirdo who proclaimed his love for me, before I finally crashed in bed.

And I crashed big time.

I love my udon.

I love my adventures.

Sapporo’s next.

*****

I can’t believe I have so much to say about udon today, when I usually have only two lines about my life otherwise.

It’s now three in the morning, I have only less than two hours before I troop out again for my final mission.

I really, really, really don’t wanna go home.

*****

Seriously seriously seriously?

My real reason for getting away from the Honks?

Just so I can wear illegal shoes everyday.

Free Internet!

2008-07-13T23:58:00.002+08:00

And just for the record, my budget hotel is NOT a love hotel. (Though I suspect there is one just round the corner.)

If I keep my mouth shut about my age, I could easily just blend in with the other kids here.

I don't know how long more I can take this, but I am in love with Japanese budget hotels.

Just no bunks with five other weird chicks.

Tokyo, Baby!

2008-07-13T23:38:00.002+08:00

I know. I’m terrible.

It’s been four months, and I really ought to be running back home to kiss my girls, and hug the little ones, and drink Mom’s soup whenever I get a chance to sneak out of the Honks.

But if a home trip is not possible just when you’re dying to run away and get some fresh air for the soul, I suppose running the opposite direction instead to my other favorite place would be the next best thing I could do for myself.

Somehow the excitement seems to have faded over the past couple of weeks. Indeed this is probably not the best time to run away; not just two weeks before the bloody meeting and with deadlines lined up in the meantime. Maybe it was just excitement from the spur-of-the-moment the minute I hung up the phone with the travel agent. Maybe it is guilt now that is gnawing at my conscience.

Or maybe, it’s just simply a bad idea to not sleep the night before the trip.

In any case, I feel like I already had a bloody long day. My knees are screaming out in pain. I am feeling hot and flustered in the damp, humid summer. My eyes are refusing to cooperate with my brain and my hands.

And all I’ve done today, after being on the road for more than half of it, was to eat ramen and join the Shibuya crowd for a short hour before the shops started closing. Of course, I had also spent about the same amount of time, looking for that one ramen meal.

No complaints, don’t get me wrong.

Nothing has gone wrong so far. Nothing can probably ever go quite wrong for me in Tokyo.

No matter how randomly and blindly I pick a restaurant where the waitress understands only one percent of what I try to gesture, I still get food that is never bad.

And I don’t think I can pull off the Part-A and Part-B shit here like I did in Taipei. I can never leave any one bit of my food uneaten here.

When I stray too far off and venture into unknown territories, I don’t really have to worry about making my way back to the subway. I just follow the people – someone in the bloody crowd must be taking the subway home.

Maybe, I’ve just been lucky so far.

Well then, tomorrow shall be the real test.

Okay.

Massive plans for the next couple of days.

I’ve barely four hours left for bed now, but I think I’m starting to feel excited again.

A new place explored: Ikebukuro. And there's always something new I learn.

I love this awesome place.

-8

2008-07-13T00:16:00.001+08:00

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

Want to zzz... should go and zzz... but CANNOT zzz.

Destiny?

2008-07-10T22:28:00.002+08:00

Quoted from somewhere in the FB:

"Reebok rocks because you can spell "Beer ok" if you re-arrange the letters!!!!"

Exactly.

不能说的秘密

2008-07-10T01:32:00.005+08:00

Question... Why are the glasses so cheng?

The glasses has that "cheng" feel... Just like the collar of A la Sha shirt.

That was a very good answer.

I like.

I like that, no matter what it may mean, no matter if it's silly or very silly. there is a definitive word called "Cheng".

Maybe. I have decided, maybe, some things are better left in secrecy.

It is much more blissful that way.

Yoga

2008-07-10T00:44:00.003+08:00

Seriously. I met this dude tonight.

Sitting right next to me.

And I greeted him before I left the restaurant. I have my manners.

Peeved

2008-07-08T11:10:00.000+08:00

OKAY.

This stupid leggings business has got to stop, before I start chopping off these black stumpy legs sticking out beneath ridiculously flowery skirts walking along the streets.

冲动

2008-07-07T23:19:00.004+08:00

ME Inc.: i'm going this sunday
ME Inc.: and i did something impulsive
Sasy: which is?
ME Inc.: i booked a domestic flight
Sasy: u r so cute
ME Inc.: for a day trip... for only one mission
Sasy: aiyoo
ME Inc.: i got so inspired by a movie i watched
Sasy: i trust u to do things like that

Yes baby, and that's me.

Which reminds me... I'd better start getting excited.

And I am also reminded tonight of why I have favorite people in my life. It's the silly little conversations we are able to engage in, that keep me feeling alive.

Maybe shallow to some, but of utmost joy to me.

Conversation is not necessarily about agreeing nor disagreeing. It doesn't really matter.

Conversation is about sparking mutual interest in one thing, no matter how frivolously silly, no matter how seemingly small. Conversation is about making you feel alive, making you feel comfortable in saying what you want to say, because you know the other person knows. And you know you don't feel stupid because if you are, the other person is too.

Conversation is supposed to be silly; a discussion is not.

Life's not about being able to make conversation with people. It's about being able to find the right people to make conversation with.

Life's not about being able to love everything, everyone in this world.

It's about able to find the right things, the right people to love.

Okay okay, I didn't mean to get so philosophical - and all that's me, anyway.

I meant to write some emails and go to bed early tonight. But the frivolous conversations are just making me very lazy and dreamy now.

In the meantime, of all the jokes poking at my unfortunate name, this new one's gotta be the best: Hweebok.

And I think I still wanna be a kindergarten teacher.

Big-Conk vs Big-Ass

2008-07-07T03:33:00.004+08:00

Not only has the rain in HK ruined my waking hours, now the rain in England is making me lose sleep.

If I wake with puffy eyes tomorrow, I'm going to feel really, REALLY STUPID.

Steamboat Round 178

2008-07-06T03:59:00.002+08:00

I'd like to pretend it was a celebration for my first anniversary, though no one else really bothered.

Can't complain though (and I didn't) - not with the mad company, the cheap beer, and the strip 5-10. And of course, the FOOD FOOD FOOD FOOD FOOD.

The soup that had me thinking it had giant "hei bi" swimming all around. Spicy soup, not quite my cup of steamboat though.

We didn't think we could, but we did finish that mound of liver.

That soup. Oh, that soup. THAT freakin' soup.

Chicken feet fest. Ignore that blubbery pork knuckle.

It is no joke.

The Tsingtao hangover and the parched throat from the soup binge the morning after. I should have been resting at home, but I almost got a heatstroke on the basketball court instead. Just two games, and I was flat out.

I am woozy now. But happy I have mad friends. : )

Idiot : )

2008-07-04T18:27:00.005+08:00

"3 Queens"

2008-07-04T01:29:00.002+08:00

When I lost my Ace-Queen pairs to the Ace-King pairs (together with perhaps a hundred bucks), I knew I should've just gone home and sleep instead.

But I'm glad I didn't. I am almost becoming the girl, and no longer one of the boys. Desperately clinging on to my spot.

And most of all, I'm glad I didn't, because I would've missed the greatest Queen act ever from my bro.

Like bro, like sis.

All mad one.

2/3

2008-07-02T07:51:00.002+08:00

In the one week that I've been away, Typhoon 8 has come and gone.

The boys have all returned to the hole because the Goddess is finally back.

My alto coffee has gone up by one freakin' dollar.

Lemme see, what else?

: )