Thanks

Dear ME Inc..

I just have to write you this letter tonight because I am feeling a lot right now.

I love you.

I really do.

I suppose I have to be loving you, just by the very fact that you are just like the man, the companion, I don't have right now next to me.

You are just like the companion I would like to tell everything to.

I tell you everything. I tell you every single thing that happens to me. Well, okay, most of everything. But that's exactly how most loving relationships are like in this world now anyway, isn't it?

I tell you what I eat. I tell you where I go. I tell you what I think. I tell you what I do.

I tell you everything like I would to a boyfriend, to an extent that I actually think yyou are my boyfriend right now.

And for that matter, anyone who reads my blog can rightfully claim a right to be my boyfriend too.

My brother Ed disses the notion of a blog. He thinks that anyone who writes a blog, especially a supposed personal one, is simply attention-seeking.

I am just very glad I never told him about you.

I know very well the privacy I don't have with you. But do I really care?

I love my mom. I tell her so.

I love my Donald. I tell him so.

I love my Piper. I wish she really knows.

I love you, and I am telling you now.

I love some other people in my life, and I never have any qualm telling them so.


Life is transient.

The people I've ever met, the moments I've ever had, the feelings I've ever conjured, everything might possibly just come and go.

And I know that.

All this while I've been learning to live on myself, all this while I've been trying to convince myself all I ever need is just the self, I am glad I have you.

Thank God for technology. Thank God for the Internet.

Thank God for you.

Love,
Fatmama

Read and Ride

The Nihonjins are a literate lot, so I noticed.

Everytime I rode the subways, every other person around me was bound to be, if not dozing off, holding a book. An anonymous book, that is.

And yes, I was very intrigued by the “book cover phenomenon”: every book in every pair of hands was wrapped in a plain paper book cover. The more atas ones would spend on a more gorgeous-looking book cover, leather-bound or exquisitely embroidered.

I was impressed that the Nihonjins took so much care of their precious treasures, and was almost put to shame myself. But I was even more impressed by the fact that bookstores in Nihon would actually give away free paper book covers to every customer, and that almost immediately took away the shame from me.

Until one day, I found out, under some inquisitive spell, that the Nihonjins do not really care that much about the well-being of their books.

The book covers serve only to hide the title of the book from the prying eyes of the world.

While a little disappointed, I saw sense immediately. I’m pretty sure the homeward-bound, bespectacled uncle with his permanent side-parted hair and his neatly pressed shirt, tucked meticulously into his grey trousers, wouldn’t really want the whole world to know he was that engrossed at that moment with Chapter Ten of his book, where the two sixteen-year-old schoolgirls were finally tearing off each other’s uniforms in the PE storeroom.


Anyway, I digress once again.

I am so impressed by the evidently high literacy rate of the Nihonjins, or so as I’d like to still think, I decided I should perhaps also start making better use of my own subway time.

Instead of taking a quick nap on the twenty-minute ride and then trudging into the office groggier than I have been when I leave the house, totally negating all the energizing effects of a hearty breakfast and a hot shower, I now pick up a book and read.

Of course it helps that the book I’m reading now is captivating me entirely, otherwise I might still end up having a ten-minute nap. Or worse, still a twenty-minute nap that causes me to miss my stop.

So far, so good. I’m kept perky as I step into the office.

Let’s see how Day Three goes tomorrow.

Countdown

I knew it.

I knew it'd got to be the pee emm ass.

Otherwise, there would be no other reason why I'd get hit so bad, and so sudden. Like nothing seemed right anymore.


So the morning finally turns out much brighter and cheerier today.

And I concocted this notion in my head while walking sprightly to the subway.

That women in the medieval age must have counted down their long dreary days, over months, over seasons, over years, by their menstrual cycles.

'Cos, strangely, I actually do.

"Oh great! One more down. Two hundred and forty six more to go..."

Escapade

I still can't stop gushing about Ni-hon. I can't stop fantasizing about it.

I think the addiction has turned into obsession.

On my very last night of my stay, I popped into Tokyu Hands and bought myself two 'Made In Japan' lunchboxes. Yes, when you're obsessed with all things Japanese, you tend to turn very atas as well. It's got to be nothing less than being 'Made In Japan'.

On my very first day back in town, I popped into Apita, the Japanese supermarket very sweetly located at my office, and bought tons and tons of groceries. Soba, tofu, mushrooms, soba sauce, Japanese "all-purpose seasoning sauce". And of course, two bottles of sake.

Yes, if you'd put one and one together, you do notice I have grand plans to pack lunch to work. Japanese no less.

Let's see if I'm kidding myself.


My cheap 6,700-yen hotel was located right in the midst of a quiet residential area in Shinjuku, which probably explained why I got lost, and why most of the locals I sought help from along the way got lost themselves.

The first night I took a walk through the residential area, past all the quaint townhouses, on my way to the subway station, my goosebumps popped up and I almost teared.

That was how much I love that place.

I see myself in one of those quaint little townhouses. With a red scooter parked right outside.


Maybe it's just another form of running away. Running away to a land so foreign your soul feels reborn.

It's just one of those rare moments. You feel like you're suddenly transported to a world so different, all that mattered matters no more.

I probably will never get to run away to an island and sell coconut juice by the beach.

This is probably a sweet alternative.


So there are two things I need to start on right now.

I need to learn Ni-hon-go.

And I need to learn how to ride a bike.

Stoneday

This has been a rather lazy Sunday.

Literally lazy.


What I was supposed to do were mopping and ironing.

But all I did, after stoning for a while at home, was getting out, talking cock, having dinner, reading thrash, and succumbing to a massage. Which was awesome for my very sore thighs anyway.

And then, I got back home, lazed a bit more before I would get the dirty laundry into the hopping machine, stoned for a longer while more before I would get started on the writing. And now, look at the time.

But I needed this. I needed to stone desperately.

My body's been too worn out by the travels and all the activities. My brain too fried by stuff.


Never ever have I had two pairs of hands working on me at the same time.

I actually felt icky. I'm such a puss.

"Blackout"

TRex: yeah it's not that hard... people start to realize you can shoot now... and they start closing out once you set your triple-threat... then you can start practice a "one-dribble", floater at the foul line... or an angle bank shot floater...

Not bad, huh?

I got personal coach now. 'Floater' some more.

But I have made it. At least, almost there. Where the boys no longer frown when they find out "they've got the girl on their team". Well, I play good D. I make the shots. I drive and then dish. I no longer pant like I did on the first day.

I just don't want to end up being the last draft pick.


But pride comes with a price-tag.

I end up crawling home every Saturday evening.


LeBron's coming to Macau.

Yes? No? I don't know.


My first ever.

Dalliance with the enemy. And it does feel a little exciting.

Missing Gyu

I'm still living by Honkie time, so it was freakin' four in the a.m. when I woke up. And I'm just about twelve hours away from home.

If the plane gets to bring me home at all.

I don't know what the lady on tv is gibbering about, but I figure Fitow's still enjoying Tokyo as I have been.

Paws crossed.

Shabu-shabu'd

And I seriously thought I was going to go vegetarian today.

But the weakened spirit got violated by the evil voice that kept humming within my head, "Last supper. Last supper. Last supper..."

ME Shoes

To love is not to possess.



Not always.

Typhoon Fitow's Coming To Town

I can't believe Fitow's actually really coming to town tonight. While I am still around in Tokyo.

And Fitow's likely to stay till tomorrow. Which is worrying news, until it turns bad, that is.


It may be fun to have a Typhoon-8 holiday in the Honks, because that just means you get to go home and iron more clothes.

But I don't think it's anymore fun when you can't literally go home. And you're stuck with room service.


Stay tuned for further weather update.

Yakiniku'd

How about this...

Have you ever tasted anything else, other than toro, that literally melts in your mouth too?

I just did it again today.

I think I went to Heaven Number Seven again, and I made no qualm letting the whole dinner table know about it with my "Mmmmmm.... Mmmmmm... MMMMMM...", eyes half-closed.



When Harry met Sally in the restaurant, she was probably having beef as good as this too.

Shortest

If we have the world's longest escalator in the Honks, I think I must've been very lucky to ride on possibly the world's shortest one.



Yes, I did. I did take a short ride on it.

Eggstra Dose

I have a new desk neighbor at work, who is barely as old as I am in work-life terms and who's turning out a real sweetie.

She sends me emails to tell me she misses me whenever I'm on the road, she replies to my garbage talk in the afternoons before drowsiness could consume me, and she notices all my queer habits.

YY: Where have you gone again? Are you hungry again?!
Me: No lah, but I went to get my soy milk (a daily three o'clock event).
YY: You really love soy milk huh? You drink it everyday?
Me: Yup. I drink it like a baby: in the morning when I wake, in the afternoon for a filler, and in the night before I sleep.

It absolutely cracked her up.


The point I am trying to make is that I am so soy-deprived this week.

I am a tad overdosed on eggs though. Soft-boiled ones swimming in soy sauce. Every morning.

Toro'fied

Have you ever eaten anything, other than M&M's, that literally melts in your mouth?

I just did yesterday.

All I can say, after the short-lived bliss is over, is that M&M's a liar. This one's the real thing.

Gluttony

If you look around really hard enough, you'd realize, like I did, that there actually isn't much of a variety when it comes to food in Ni-hon.

It's just that they are everywhere, and in your face.

Save for the rare few Italian pasta/pizza cafes or burger joints, every other shop sells pretty much the same stuff to everyone. If you really want to live like the locals do, you seriously eat either sushi or ramen, or katsu-don, or curry rice, or simple local cold salad dishes which have become my favorite of late.

And they are really everywhere. It's just a matter of whether you found good or bad sushi.

When it's lunchtime, you could possibly be worse off. Because if you don't bring a lunchbox from home, you're probably reduced to either rice-balls or packed cold soba with chicken or pork from the fridges in the convenience store. If you're lucky, you might get some western-style sandwiches and salads. Which is what's exactly happening to my colleagues here, and which was what exactly happened to me yesterday.

When it's dinner, you could throw in small servings of deep-fried or barbequed or grilled pieces of meat together with your Ni-hon-shu. Otherwise, it's still sushi, or ramen, or rice.

As a Singaporean, you'd probably die of horror if you thought about it this way: imagine you could only choose between wanton mee, or fishball mee, or chicken rice, or western food, or McD's everyday.

But when I thought about it, I really didn't think I would die. In fact, it made me more alive. And then I started fantasizing about living in Japan and eating Japanese food everyday. And then I realized, yeah I might just die too - from gluttony.

I thought also about how the people here are so simple about their food quest. While others might contort their faces with disgust at the thought of eating the same foods everyday, the J-folks take much pride in savoring their rice-balls and simply aim to gain energy for the rest of the day.

After all, when you have food this good, why fuss about the others, or the lack of others?


I actually didn't mean to talk so much about food.

I had only wanted to say, I am so darn happy I actually found that darn awesome kaiten-sushi bar I went to once but three years ago.

And I didn't get lost.

Original

And I know.

I know Muji loves Fatmama too.

Dai-juu-bu

So I have spent almost thirty-six hours in the land of Muji, and trust me, that was the very first store I popped into in Harajuku.

I thought I would've been thrilled to death. I mean, I am still so in love with this city, I can't stop thanking my lucky stars for bringing me back here again. But for some reason, here I am sitting in front of the keyboard, looking through the few pictures I have only managed to capture, and I just can't find the words to describe how I really feel.

I must be really tired. Really, really tired.

So I will simply jot here in my journal with the few mere words I can conjure up.


I love Tokyo. I love Japan. I still haven't been to Hokkaido, or Kyoto, or anywhere else but I know I will love them all.

My memories of the city from my last and only trip that took place three years ago haven't failed me. I recognize the streets. I remember some shops (like where Muji is located). I still know where that ramen shop is, the one who purportedly sells one of the best ramens in town. I still get appalled at the price of a tee shirt. I even know my way around, though ironically, I got lost and spent two hours getting to my favorite place, Daikanyama.

It took me three or four regular trips to Bangkok before I would recall places.



Ok, I got lost yesterday too. After taking almost three hours to reach Shinjuku after jumping off the plane, I spent more than an hour, trying to walk toward my cheap 6,700-yen hotel, lugging the luggage with one hand, juggling three lousy maps with the other. It took a friendly local babe the last half hour to search for the bloody cheap hotel with me. And then, I found out the hotel was really just five minutes from the subway. I just didn't know. Because the stupid hotel web site never gave the damned directions.

I have never spent five hours getting settled into a hotel.

But I actually liked the cheap 6,700-yen hotel. Maybe because it's a Japanese budget hotel. I love anything Japanese. Despite the size, it was clean, cosy and actually comfortable - and it has silent air-conditioning. But the bathroom impressed me the most - it even has that butt-washer on the toilet. Ironic as it might sound, perhaps you might find the best cheap hotels in Japan.

But the greatest satisfaction from the 6,700-yen hotel came when I realized I had unintentionally found a cheap place just ten minutes away from the Hilton, where I moved to today. I can't believe I'm this smart.



I am on a eating spree, I have decided.

Whether I am hungry or not, I am going to eat every three or four hours while I am here. I did a quick calculation, I don't have enough time to finish everything I want to ravage.

One of the best places in Tokyo are those food streets at the basement of the departmental stores. I spend half an hour circling the stalls, wondering if I should or should not, and then I buy take-out, when I really have no reason to. Except maybe I might get hungry working in the room tonight.

The salad bars are the most amazing.

I need to try a Freshness burger.

And I did whale last night. I really shouldn't have. But I did.



I can't believe this.

I can't find a single fucking Taiwanese channel or program in the Honks, or even in Shanghai.

And I am watching a crappy Taiwanese drama in the room now.


I think I am really tired.

Fresh Laundry

The sweetest thing about this tiny pad is that the fresh laundry smell permeates the entire place.

Still.

Sweet. : )

One More

I love love love the smell of freshly laundered clothes.

And that's why I love doing laundry. : )

Pleased, and At Peace

All I can say is that this has been one crazy, happy, awesome week.

No pictures. Just lots of words. Thoughts. Laughter. Looks. Songs. And homemade turkey breast sandwiches. Yumms.

In fact, everything was yummers.

The images that keep running through my mind are better than photographs I keep in my notebook because they are the ones that keep you alive.


I am pleased too because I was back to the courts again today, after lousy weather marred last week's plans. I am still taking so darned long to warm those fatlegs up. The touch is creeping back though.

And I am absolutely exhilarated because the cable guy finally came today, and gave my life back to me. I actually realize I have not been journalling at this ungodly hour for a long, long while. Hmm.

I watched Man U score while basking in the comfort of my couch, underneath my fleece blanket.

This is rather surreal.


Still, I'm heading back to the cafe on weekends.

I love that place too much.


Oh. Oh. Oh. And I am utterly, devastatingly intoxicated.

From the thought of landing my feet upon Nippon in less than twelve hours.

AAaaaaaAAAAhhhhHHHHHHh!!!!!

I just hope the cheap 6,700-yen hotel room I booked for the night isn't located in "one of Asia's biggest red-light district".

: )