Coffee at Wisteria Lane

I have a confession. I am getting hooked on Desperate Housewives. In a few weeks I suspect my addiction will be as bad as my SATC addiction. I am starting to think about which character I want to be...Susan or Bree, just as I agonised over the Carrie or Charlotte issue. Last year I wanted to live in Manhatten, drink Cosmos all night, be artistically savvy and a fag hag. As I am already a fag hag (on various continents too) and drink all the time, I felt my dreams were within reach. Then Miranda moved to suburbia and Carrie finally got Mr Big. In the meantime I felt dazed and confused as had to resort to re-runs of Will & Grace and Gilmore Girls (Now Will is my dream fag to hag!).

But now there are the Wisteria Lanettes to love, hate, and aspire to be when I grow up.

I've been tapped

I am supposed to be doing some rather urgent work. I am however sipping on nasty mud water coffee supplied by the gallon in the faculty room, thinking about Lausanne, where I will be on Thursday. I have therefore decided to meet Lisa's challenge and fill in the following questionairre:

1. favorite main entree:
Big ole juicy steak, med-rare

2. favorite salad:
Thai beef salad

3. favorite soup:
Leek and potato

4. favorite appetizer:
Foie gras

5. favorite dessert:
Chocolate cake

6. favorite fruit:
Mango

7. favorite vegetable:
Spinach

8. favorite sashimi:
Salmon

9. favorite sushi roll:
Raw Tuna roll

10. favorite soda beverage:
Coke

11. favorite non-alcoholic beverage:
Coke

12. favorite alcoholic shot:
B-52 (technically a cocktail but comes in shot glasses)

13. favorite alcoholic drink:
G&T, JD 7-up, Wine, Champagne, Sex on the beach, Long Island Tea, Cosmos, Manhattens..heck, anything at an open bar.

14. favorite cake:
Chocolate fudge

15. favorite pie:
Apple

16. favorite ice cream:
Choc choc chip

17. favorite milkshake:
Snickers milkshake

18. favorite cut of beef:
Sirloin

19. favorite cuisine:
Asian

20. favorite part of chicken: (leg, wing, thigh, breast)
The little hearts/kidneys..

21. favorite fried food:
Fish fried in tumeric (Ikan goreng)

22. favorite cookie:
Ginger snaps

23. favorite indian curry:
Fish head curry

24. favorite gum:
None. Too much effort

25. favorite candy:
Dark chocolate

26. favorite crepe:
Ones with peach and strawberry filling

27. favorite sandwich:
Aussie style Steak sandwich with grilled onions

28. favorite pizza:
Thin crust salami/pastrami/olives...and NO pineapple

29. favorite mexican dish:
Chili con carne..or is that Texan?

30. favorite vietnamese dish:
Beef noodles

31. favorite korean dish:
Any kim chi

32. favorite chinese dish:
Does dim sum in aggregate count?

33. favorite filipino dish:
Micheal...

34. favorite southern food:
Deep fried catfish and grits

35. favorite instant noodles brand:
Maggi

36. favorite juice:
Carrot/apple/celery mix

37. favorite snack food:
Doritos

38. favorite fish:
Garoupa

39. favorite cereal:
Crunchy Nut

40. favorite pho:
Huh?

41. favorite breakfast food:
Coffee

42. favorite french food:
Foie gras

43. favorite mcdonalds food:
It has to be the fries

44. favorite pasta dish:
anything tomato-ey and with penne, or those cute ribbon shaped ones

45. favorite bread:
French loaf

46. favorite tea:
Earl Gray

47. favorite 7-11 slurpies:
Have sworn of them since friends who worked at 7-11 claimed they never cleaned the dispensers...you know who you are girlies.

48. favorite hershey's kiss:
Do not eat American chocolates

49. favorite flavor of m&m's:
Green

50. favorite candy bar:
Ritter dark chocolate with whole hazelnuts

NY-Toronto-Winnipeg

From NY, we flew to Toronto, where D spent a couple of days at meetings, and I went on yet another hop-on-hop-off tour. If I had more time, and was not so busy with work, I would provide more detailed highlights of my visit but alas, that is not the case. In short, highlights include:

1)Walking on the see through floor of the CN Tower




2)Casa Loma



3)Watching stand up comedy at the Second City


From Toronto, we flew to Winnipeg where I would meet the future in laws for the very first time.




I was a bit apprehensive to say the least. The last time I met potential in laws, they didn't speak English, and my German was non-existent, so I just spent 2 weeks smiling and nodding. This time I knew I had at least utter a few fairly intelligent sentences. Did I also mention that it was -30 degrees in Winnipeg?? D, who I must add is a perfect ambassador for Canadian charm and intelligence, is a less than effective ambassador for tourism and he filled me with horror stories of 5 feet high snow banks. (I admit, I couldn't help it. I checked if they all had their fingers and toes. Frostbite not that much of an issue.)

My worries were put to rest within minutes of arriving at the family home. The family, D's dad, his brother and sister in law, his sisters and his aunt were extremely warm, kind and generous with their hospitality during our stay in Winnipeg. They made me feel so very welcome that I felt rather sad when the visit ended.

It was such an event filled visit, so I apologize in advance for my rather random jottings. Mainly it was because we were only going to be in Winnipeg for 4 days, but it just seemed like there was always a family event. D's dad organised a dinner at the Country Club (yup, D is a product of the suburbian dream). That afternoon, as D was getting ready to go for a run with his elder brother, his eldest brother who works in the US walks into the family room. He decided to surprise us and just took a flight out the last minute. So while the 3 brothers went out for a run, I sat and had a nice chat with D's dad who mentioned that it would have been D's mum's birthday that day if she were still alive. He liked the fact that the 3 brothers were together that day. At dinner the main topic of conversation was the cross country skiing we would all be doing the next afternoon. I am sure they must have noticed my reluctance upon mention of the cross country skiing. I must admit that I had taken that rather literally and fully expected to be skiing if not across state lines, then pretty much across city limits...and trust me...Winnipeg is big. The next day, after sending D's eldest brother to the airport in the morning (he flew down just for the dinner...sweet), D took me on a tour of Winnipeg; where he went to elementary school, junior high and high school. The park where they used to hide to have a drink, the rink where they used to train and play hockey, the houses he used to throw snowballs at, etc. Funnily enough, the visit in a way enabled me to understand D's childhood, and why he has his views on what a successful life is, how his own family should live.

After the tour, we went home to get ready for the afternoon. I was rather surprised nobody had suggested packing sandwiches and a flask, and had thought of doing it myself but unfortunately got a bit distracted by the sight of Doug running around the house in Spandex/lycra tights looking for his skis. Again, my worries were put to rest upon arriving at the golf course and I was told by the siblings that we would only be going around the course. Now, my other worry about the skiing was that I am not a good skier. I have had lessons but that was downhill skiing, and from what I have seen on TV, skiing on flat ground seemed to be a bit more streneous. I was able to stay on the skis and move forward though, and they were awfuly nice with their compliments and moral support. Good thing there were others there too as Doug would have been poking be with the sharp end of that ski pole thinggy urging me to go faster the whole circuit.

After the skiing, we had a family BBQ. Now, let me remind you about the -30 degree weather. So how can you have a BBQ you ask?? Well, what you do is you get all bundled up, open the TRIPLE glazed patio door, run out to start the fire then run back in. When you see that the fire is on its way, you run out again to put on the steaks...etc etc. When we first started going out, D told me about this crazy Canadian tradition of BBQing during winter. He proved to me that night that it could be done.


We flew back the next morning. But we will be going back soon. I need to know how they BBQ in the summer...

The Big Apple

I have been back for a few weeks now but have been so swamped with work that I honestly barely have time to breathe, much less post anything.

But this I had to post...


The Gates, Central Park, New York, 1979-2005.

D and I were at the Met when we noticed these Orange flags outside. We initially thought it had something to do with the Netherlands...heh. Such plebs we are..

1 day to go...

I will see D tomorrow. 23.15 US time. I don't even want to think about converting that into actual hours, as my math skills are non-existent. Now I know why they have those maths problems...if you are on plane heading to NY at a gazillion kilometres an hour and NY is heading in your direction at whatever miles per hour, how much time would you have to wash and blow your hair before your boyfriend reaches JFK? All I know and care about at this moment is that I will see D tomorrow.

I spoke to him this morning, to give him my flight details. I will be arriving much earlier, but I think he needs to know which flight I am on. Just in case. Like if a jet engine sucks in an eagle. I am morbid, I know. Told him about my brother's friend. A bit difficult though as I had to explain what a baju kurung and tudung is. I then had to explain why I do not wear these items of clothing. As these things go, we then got on to the topic of polygamy. I have told him that only Malaysian born Muslims can marry more than 1 wife. Converts and especially foreign converts have no such right. It is in fact an offence under the penal code (which is unfortunately only in Malay). Regardless of what any Malaysian man he will meet says. They just want to see more foreigners in jail. Do not listen to them. And yes, maggi mee is staple food in Malaysia.

I don't think I will have a problem, as he recently asked me what the difference is between Islam and Muslim. The man thought they were 2 different religions. I think I shall tell him that all new converts have to have their new name chosen by the wife. I am thinking ... Joaquim.

We will be visiting D's dad next week. It is -26 celcius in his hometown. Wonder if they walk around in snowsuits there...

How to irritate a sister from across the seas...

Call her at 3am KL time to ask her if you could have white rice at her wedding reception. Remind her how opposed you are to having nuts and raisins amongst the rice..oooh, and request that the colour pink not be chosen as the family theme colour. Then tell her you wish you could be there to help out with the arrangements. Then hang up.

Insaf

2 weeks ago, as I was lying spread eagle on the marble living room floor at home trying to cool off, irritating my brother by jokingly asking him, over and over again, "Why is your country so hot??!!" (I add jokingly before some nationalist lambasts me with comments), he told me a story about a friend of his. He is a transvestite. Not my brother. His friend, F. They have been friends for a long time, and my brother, the kindest most giving person you will ever know, provides his strong shoulders for F to cry on after each failed love affair. They lost touch after the last doomed and tragic affair but recently, he received a call from F. F wanted to touch base, and to inform my brother that "I dah insaf" (I have repented) and he has found the path he is meant to take, he has renewed his faith. My brother was happy for him and suggested they meet up for coffee. Nothing stronger in view of his born again status. F turned up at Alexis wearing a baju kurung and a tudung.

Berlin in 6 hours

I was in Berlin yesterday. Missed Karnivale here becuase I needed to get a visa for Canada, pronto. Note to travellers: If you are not carrying a Dutch passport, but need to travel to Canada from NL, you will need to get a visa from Berlin. I tried to courier my application on Saturday, only to be told by nice postmaster that because of the Karnivale, nothing would be leaving the post office until Monday morning. Checked flights: Cost of last minute ticket same as cost of my flight to NY. I had no choice but to take the last train out to Berlin on Sunday, check myself into a hotel and be at the embassy at 9am on Monday. Only to be told that my passport would be ready at 3pm. So there I was, freezing my buns off, trying to figure out how to kill 6 hours. How much coffee would I have to consume?

What do I do? Get on a hop-on-hop-off bus of course. Did Berlin in a few hours. Spent a bit more time at Checkpoint Charlie. Still trying to figure out what that Dome is famous for because I had to interrupt my taped tour to reassure D over the phone that it is OK to eat a steak he had defrosted on Saturday, but stuck back in the freezer.




Berlin is a beautiful city, still retaining its remaining historical buildings. As usual, any remnants of communism is now fully commercialised, but hey, isn't that why we fight for democracy. It does make you think though as the bus brings you along one of the few remaining parts of the wall still standing. A city divided.

At 3pm, I picked up my now even more valuable passport (that sticker cost me Euro 200 in total!) and headed home.

Just as I am getting use to the weather here, I have to figure out how to pack for a weekend in NY and a week in the wilds of Canada. I sometimes wish time would just stand still for me to catch my breath.

NL sure is cold

The ironic thing about maintaining a blog is that when there is so much to write about, there is never any time to write. Since my last lament about KF's absence, she came home the day before I left, I left KL, am back in NL, and have spent the last few days reading massive amounts of snail mail, starting a research project, applying for both a US and Canadian visa in a week, and getting use to the cold and dreary weather again.

The last few days in KL were hectic. Spending days trying to get knick knacks for housemates, colleagues and secretaries (Tip: Be nicer to the secretaries than your bosses). Eating as much as my tummy could possibly handle ("Yes Mama, I know that Laksa Penang, Mee Goreng and Sashimi do not sit well together in one meal, but I only have 2 days!!") and saying my goodbyes to close friends (Thanks ever so much for accommodating me, meeting up with me at a stranger's house and coming over to mine as I packed). Finally, it was time for me to head out, my last supper at KLIA (Can you believe that a teh tarik is RM5.20!!) enjoyed with my Daddy, Ayah, Mama and siblings. As usual, arriving in Schipol in darkness, with 40 kilos of luggage (minus 10 kilo handbag..why can I never travel light??) just highlighted what I left behind.

I was dreading the trip back home. Even on the plane, as I watched movie after movie, visions of dragging my luggage on and off the trains, down and up staircases and escalators as I catch connecting trains, kept me awake. But life holds plenty of surprises. I arrived in time to catch a train with only one connection needed, and that from the same platform. As I arrived at my own station, someone asked me if he could help carry my luggage. Bless him. My housemate offered to make tea as I got ready for my meeting (Did I mention that I had a meeting the morning of my arrival?), and after the meeting, as I dragged myself home and up to my room, my landlady informed me that she had bought me groceries and flowers for my room as she figured I would be too tired to go grocery shopping. I felt so touched, and so blessed by such thoughtfulness.


But just as I am trying to acclimatise myself to my surroundings, I may be off again. I have to be in NY by the 11th of Feb to meet D as our paper will be presented at a University upstate. We will then head out to Canada to see my future Daddy-in-law and head back out a few days later. Have you ever tried to apply for both a US and a Canadian visa within a week?? I am in the process of doing this, and I shall tell you what happens. Fingers crossed. Oooh, may I add that Canada does not have visa services in NL and that I need to apply in Germany? Toes crossed.

I am stressed. But if all goes well, I will be in the big apple, get nookie and see D next Friday. Hmm, maybe I should have placed "see D" second...or first..

KF...baliklaaaahhhhh

Did I mention that the main, main, main reason I am back is to eat, eat, eat. A girl can only take so much milk, steak and potatoes. In Sydney imagined coming home to good ole home cooking. I must admit such visions helped me stop the tears from flowing at the airport. Dreams shattered as I arrived home and was informed by KF, my mum's maid who has been with us for over 15 years, that she would be going back to Thailand for Raya hols. And she would only be back a day before I left. I was absolutely horrified!! What?? I have to eat out every day?!! I do that everywhere else...but not HOME!!! Lets not talk about the dirty laundry....

But I am a survivor! It helps that we have been visiting every hotel in KL to check out the ballrooms and negotiate terms. I told my Mum at lunch at the Mandarin yesterday that I feel like a foreigner on a real holiday in KL, what with the many buffets I have tried and tested (regardless of the fact that we will not be having raw oysters and sashimi for the wedding...heh). When I go on holiday I eat outside the hotel because we all know that hotel food is unauthentic. My mum is pleased that I am happy with maid-less arrangement. My sis is not happy because every time she calls from work post reccy lunch she finds out that as yet we are undecided and we may have to go to another hotel the next day. As it is we can only do one hotel a day as I wake up late, tennis is on and we have to be back home by 3.30pm because the Philippine soap is on then. We spend 10 minutes looking at ballroom and 2 hours eating lunch. As my sis screams over the phone that the wedding is less than 6 months away and how my mum's indecision is unproductive, I rattle on about how nice my chocolate desert is. I am glad that I am going home soon because I am sure my sis is heading for a nervous breakdown. Through no fault of mine of course.

Other than eating, I have been stocking up on clothes. Can't buy anything in NL because the clothes are too long (or I am not tall enough...heh). Buying cheap T-shirts at the Factory Outlet Store. It goes without saying that if one goes shopping in KL, one is easily reminded how KL salespersons, born in the land of smiles, have the worst people skills in the world. At FOS, I asked if they had the GAP tank tops with built in support in a smaller size as they all seemed to be in XXL. The salesboy said NO, you are too late because the smaller sized ones have all been sold. So there I am looking at a huge pile of spaghetti strapped tank tops in XXL (in Euro size mind you) and asked rather nicely if there is such a huge demand for such tank tops by really fat people in KL (not that there is anything wrong with being fat). And this boy just walked off. Can you imagine? It is to me a valid question because you would think that the salesboy and I could have a discussion about the viability of buying tent like tank tops for a market primarily made up of XXXS Euro sizes in the form of anorexic ah mois (sweet chinese chicks), and S-M Euro size for the more berisi (nice malay term for fleshy, or obviously not anorexic) Malay girls. But he walked off. This is why we are not yet a developed country.

I am running out of clean clothes, and we have no idea how to use the washing machine. I think I will have to look for a laundrette. I miss D. He usually does my laundry.

It is only by coincidence that I am back here with the family to celebrate Raya Haji. I came back here primarily to tell my parents in person (post phone call that informed them of the existence of a boyfriend...heh..) about my intention to get hitched to a man they have never met (they are desperate hence blessings) and to tell my Daddy, again in person, that I have a boyfriend/fiancee (I did not have his mobile number hence no phone call). I have his blessings too. I think. I was eating my mango with pulut desert as he gave his rather long lecture on communication...lalalala...duties of wife..lalalala..importance of something or rather...desert finished...You have my blessings. Cool. Can you pass me the cendol?

I also came back to help my sis plan her wedding. Or rather to provide moral support as she desperately tried to convey her wish of a small intimate ceremony. I coached her on standing her ground, showing no weakness, and maintaining a stand. We are in a war, I told her. I failed. She caved in and agreed to a small bersanding. What started out as a 200 persons guest list with casual wear is in danger of escalating to the 700 ball room affair...just because she compromised on that minute issue. I did my best, but I guess my best wasn't good enough (sung to the tune of Just Once). As my Mum rattles on about cousins of friends who she just hassss to invite..I quietly hum "We've only just begun". I spend my days bugging my sis, and my nights scaring my future brother in law with stories or laser circumcisions gone wrong. How with one small technical error, we may be talking quantity, not quality.

KLite again

I have been munching on Goreng Pisang alllll week. Yup, you guessed it, I am back in KL!! I left Sydney with tears in my eyes, took a flight out to Melbourne, then Bangkok, then KL. Went via Thai airways. Not too bad. Again, no personal screens and bad food (I have a thing about day old omelets) but good service. Sawadikaps galore. I must add that Bangkok Airport is fantabulous and I nearly missed my flight what with being preoccupied at the Jim Thompson store at gate 21, while my plane was at gate 56. I am now a firm believer that all airports should have shops all the way to the departure gate. Must start movement.

I arrived late, only to be greeted by my cheerful aunt and equally cheerful Mum (men had Friday prayers). My first thought was...Oh no..I knew I should have taken the train. Don't get me wrong. I love my Mum to bits. And she is not a bad driver...but lets put it this way, my Dad finds it cheaper to hire a driver. I am pretty sure my Mum inspired his new car replacement programme business (like AAM but you get a replacement car when you have an accident). I was greeted by kisses (bless) and onion breath (they claim they wanted coffee but were to embarrassed to only buy that at Burger King (what will the counter boy think??!!) so they each had to order french fries and onion rings). We spent ages looking for the car..we not only ended up on wrong floor, but the wrong car park! I was blamed for leading them to wrong car park. I reminded them that I was not in the car when they parked it. They filled me in on happenings, with conversation only interrupted when other cars start honking us (Mum and loyal aunt will then have a rant about stupid drivers) and as I secure my seat belt in the back seat. We got home 3 hours later (we HAD to stop at FAM for kuey teow because they decided I should have it for lunch). I should have taken the train.

So far I have been spending quality time with Mum which includes watching some Philippine soap opera and catching up on family goss. 3 aunts are not talking to another aunt because she casually mentioned the ending of same soap opera which she found out herself from surfing the net. I have been getting into the swing of life at home, like taking maid to TMC to do shopping...at 9am..sigh. That sort of thing. I have been catching up with friends I have missed terribly. Just hanging out. Things I missed, and will miss after 1 Feb. Thoughts are a bit disjointed at the moment because maid is frying goreng pisang, and I can smell it. Gotta go.

A Mother's pride

Over lunch today, D told me that the bed we have in our room was chosen by his mother when he went off to College. I told him that explains why it is a dinky Double instead of a studly King. He added that actually, he complained about the size at first as he had a rather dinky room and he thought it would be better to get a single bed. As a female, presumably with motherly instincts (well, except for those women who drown their kids in bathtubs and cars), I cannot imagine his Mother's reaction. I would be highly disturbed at such apparent lack of foresight.

I told D that when we have a kid, and he goes to college, we will also help him choose a bed. In fact, when we go shopping we will both pretend to test it out. Boy will that put him in therapy for years.

Starting to see light...

You would think that with the fantastic weather and free vino in abundance (well, you do have to socialise to get access to the stuff but once you down a few carafes its not really an issue) I would be hitting the sand every afternoon. To be honest, I have been in nerd mode lately and in the flat making the final amendments to the first article I worked on with D and finishing up the second article I have been working on with him. We were even working on Christmas eve and through new years day to get this second article done as we have to meet deadlines to submit them for conferences.

For those of you who are not in on the mysteries of academia, let me try to clue you in. First you do anything and everything to get data. You become a data whore (When D first mentioned this term I shouted (in shock and awe of course) "You dated a whore??!!" rather loudly in a fairly nice restaurant..he was not pleased..) and you do almost anything and everything to get data to analyse. For the second article, I promised a few people to name my firstborn after them...so in a few years be prepared to read a posting on David-Bruno-Azam-Joseph-KeeHong-Hanson-etc-Cumming. D will understand as he will probably add on a few Germanic names to fulfil promises made for data obtained for first article.

So you now have data. You then come up with general hypotheses and hope to god that the data fits to prove you right. If they don't, you change hypotheses so that you are still right. Although your data will sufficiently address 10 hypotheses, you only list out less than 5 for an article as academics have short attention spans. As it is if an article is not relevant to their work they will not read it..ever. Even if it wins a nobel prize. If it is slightly relevant, they will read the abstract, the introduction and the conclusion. All of 3 pages of the 40 page document you spent 6 months working on. Only if the work is extremely relevant to an academic's work will they bother to read it back to front, even then only to enable them to shoot you down like the dog you are. Especially when what you find contradicts their work. They shoot you in the back while you are down.

I digress. So you have data. You have hypotheses. You then write up paper. When you do this note that you do not have to know everything. Have you ever read an academic paper and had a look at the extremely long Biblio/References? Let me tell you a secret..the author (ie me) has not read all those papers/books/articles. You read a few, yes, but alot of them are included as you hope that those writers will be your referee. You choose a name, preferably someone you have met before, and look through his list of published/unpublished working papers to see if any fits into your area. You add in the cite as nothing makes an academic happier than having his existence confirmed by a cite.

Let me now explain why a referee is the bane of an academic's life when she is just starting out. You see, as I have finished the paper, I now have what is called a working paper. I can now submit this working paper to journals. The journals are ranked in that you have really really good journals where anyone published there is elevated to status of BSD on campus (Big Swinging D*%k). You are a God. No questions asked. If I get a paper in any A journal I can just shake legs for the rest of my life as other academics have to kowtow to me. Unfortunately, only 0.002% of new submissions get accepted. My chances are even slimmer as 1) to get an article in I will be peer reviewed and 2) the level of cronyism in academia is one that surprisingly has gone unnoticed by the presidency of a country that shall remain unnamed...maybe because it is in their favour 3) as the top level journals are that same country centric so if data are not biased in their favour your work will not be considered worthy of their attention. As a new academic, I am not worthy of their favour. Even if I cite all of their work. Especially if I actually have something novel to say. So if the referees don’t like you (and they won’t), they will send you what is called a rejection letter aka FOAD letter (F*&k Off And Die). If you are very very lucky, and they somehow like you enough to actually read your paper and comment, the review process could take 2 years. Some unlucky ones take up to 7 years. By then they would have either realised that academia is not for them, or they would have just killed themselves. Same difference.

So there you have it. I have spent the last year working on 2 papers that may never see the light of day. But all is not lost. An unpublished paper can be presented at conferences. Because academics have to put up with the review process and bad pay, conferences are chosen based on venue, not reputation or even topic. Did I tell you that where you work (Boston versus Zimbabwe) and what you earn is totally dependant on your publication record in top journals? [Books don’t count because we all know that book authors are divided into 2 categories, those who are published and just staple all their articles together…sort of a Best Of Compilation (the better author) and the sad ones who have to write a book to publish their altogether unrecognised working papers]. A top tier conference on your specific area of research in Moscow is a possibility, but a so-so conference sort of related to your area in Honolulu is a must go. Funnily enough, papers that are accepted by journals are not entitled to be submitted for presentation at conferences. You can’t have your cake and eat it too.

So now you understand why I worked through the holidays? There are conferences in Ghent Belgium, Milan Italy, Seoul Korea and Georgia. Fingers crossed.

Happy new year

Starting a new year with a thumping headache is never good.
Starting a new year with a swim at an aussie beach right outside my flat is good. Especially since I have only done this once in my months here.
Starting a new year surrounded by topless sunbathers (I saw more nipples today that a Malaysian customs officer in charge of tearing pages out of Vogue does in a year). Not good.
Starting a new year with D next to me pretending not to look at exposed boobs, but clearly not drooling. Very good.

.....

Our first tiff in 2005: Me: I will not change my name after we get married! People will think I'm a porno star. D: People don't think I'm a porno star. Me: I did.

Sad

D recieved a call from his aunt last night. She tried to call earlier yesterday. She is worried about us. Wondered if we were affected by the Tsunami. She also asked if I had any family affected. Told her no, thank you, but Dad a tad upset that Singapore is still there and not floating somewhere off African coast. We reassured her as best we could.."Uh...well, Australia is not really that close to the rest of Asia and Sydney is like way on the other side."

We then sat down and watched the news. Tears came to my eyes as I watched the report on the inconsolable Aussie dad who had his 6 month old daughter ripped from his arms. The weeping women as they sat beside the mass graves being dug for their husbands, children. I thought of the unimaginable horror as the showed us the boxes and boxes of body bags being loaded on the Virgin airlines carrier...boxes and boxes. The amateur footage showing us the people scrambling for safety, the look of desperate horror on their faces as they are being swept away. I admit that tears also come to my eyes even when I watch Petronas Raya adds (especially that one where the kids try and meet up with dad with new GRO wifey), but watching one the greatest disasters since the Krakatoa eruption (1883) unfold on TV...I am still very very sad. The human tragedy. May they rest in peace.

I may have mentioned that I recently forced D to give away about 500 t-shirts (I kid you not..we had to rent a car to transport them). He is a hoarder and he has shirts he wore in High School, he has old Xmas presents, and even shirts he did not realise he had, with price tags intact. We chucked them, well, I did while he spent hours explaining to me why he HAD to keep that 1000th white tshirt. We dropped them off at the local clothes deposit. I joked with him that we may even bump into some of his old/new Tshirts around the neighbourhood. We have been told that the clothes will be sent off as part of Australia's aid effort. I gave D a big hug for being a hoarder..but still plan on chucking out his ugly ass ties.

All set for the new years celebration?

I am all Christmased out! It has been a strange one this year.

24 December 2002: Christmas eve spent skiving off work to do last minute shopping. Then it is off to a friend's house for dinner with his family and our friends. Great food, very drinkable plonk, and goodwill etc.

24 December 2004: Christmas eve afternoon was spent deperately looking for a whole chicken to roast for Christmas dinner. Found one, added a lamb roast thinggy that looked familiar (ie had seen one served at a grill somewhere) in my shopping trolley as I was feeding me, Doug, M (6ft 2) and his partner D (6ft4). Figured more is best. Also liked the thought of having farm friends together in the oven.

Then it was off to meet M, D and their friends for an early dinner before heading out to the Christmas carol session at the Town Hall. We had turkey in a nice, upmarket Italian cafe in Potts Point, with lovely house Verdehlo to accompany. Then it was off to the Town Hall. Where the MCC Gay and Lesbian Christmas Eve Service 2004 was being held. Doug turned to me and whispered "Wow, when M warned me that I would be the only straight guy at dinner, he wasn't kidding." It was a beautiful service. We sang carols(D cannot sing for nuts! Note to self: Do not bring him anywhere near a Karaoke bar). We listened to uplifting speeches. And a few boring ones. We celebrated goodwill for/to man, woman, lesbians, gays, transexuals, transgenders, and the generally confused (not my words, they were the reverand's). For me, it was a humbling experience to think that those at the service, those who are not kindly accepted by so many of the conservative religions, were there faithfully, without doubt, to pray to their own higher order, knowing that love and acceptance is a possiblity in this world. Such faith, such loyalty. The true spirit of Christmas.


25 December 2002: Lunch at No 27. I would be there early, after stopping by Cold Storage to pick up ice (traditional Xmas duty) and other bits like parsnip (Usually this entails a call to host as I would have no idea what a parsnip looks like). Arrive at 27, pretend to help while happily sipping glass of wine (drinking at 10am not sign of alcoholism if done at behest of host), eat, open pressies, watch video/pirated VCD and take nap. Go home.

25 December 2004: D still asleep at 4am. Try to wake him. He is not happy even after my explanation that technically we can open presents. Am forced to wait till 9am (well, I fell asleep but he doesn't have to know that) when his father calls to wish him Merry Xmas. I happily wake him up. We have breakfast and open a bottle of Moet (Again, champagne at 10am is not sign of alcoholism if someone else pops cork). He opens his pressies. In addition to the huge ass map, I bought him a tie (he has some ugly ass ones I am going to throw out), a book on the 40 must see sites before you die, and another book on the Ig Nobel Prize. The prize is given to academic researchers who carry out research that makes you laugh, and then think. One example is the study of homosexual necrophiliac behaviour among malard ducks. Another is one that suggests chickens prefer beautiful people. I was not allowed to open my pressie until we took a walk to our lookout point behind the flat.


Our lookout

I got this.





I must have been a very good girl this year, or a very, very bad one.

I said yes please. Firstly because I adore him. Secondly, I am so getting major brownie points for adding to the faith (this has been recently pointed out to me by dear friend who called today to reassure me that Damansara Heights was not, I repeat, not affected by the Tsunami). Thirdly, how can you not marry a man who only knows one jeweler because he remembered the movie?

Dazed and confused

I am back in broadband land!! I must add though that the Peace hotel in Shanghai provided in-room dial up facilities, so the level of relief to be back in fast connection land is slightly lower than when I hooked up in Vancouver.

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We arrived this morning, carrying our winter jackets, and squinting in the bright sunlight as we left the airport. I still have no idea what day it is, and the 2 alarm clocks we have (the only clocks we have in the flat) show both Shanghai and Vancouver time.

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Dumped the bags and rushed out to get my apple, carrot and celery juice at our usual juice bar. We are at home base at last. Back to reality and work. But first I had to get a little Christmas tree. Not a fake one, because it just doesn't seem right. I bought instead a small connifer in a bright red pot. It came with 4 red velvet bows with mini gold bells.

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So much to do. Like buy milk. Buy bread. Do laundry (the pile..when did we wear all that?). Download pictures.

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I know what to buy D for Christmas. I am buying him a world map, and have it nicely framed with a corkboard backing. I will then buy him thumbtacks in 3 different colours. Red, to indicate places where he has been, Blue for places I have visited, and Gold to indicate cities where we have been uh together. Only problem is that mile high episode....hmmm...

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I think I have more Christmas spirit than D. But then as a kid I believed that whole Christmas shabang was for ME, ME, ME. I am sure most boxing day babies feel this way.

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On a different note, did you know that Miranda of SATC left her partner of 15 years recently for a woman? You learn something new every day huh..

Vancouver, Canada

Vancouver is nothing like I expected it to be. First of all it is much smaller. But then again, a few days ago we were in Beijing where there are 8 (count em), 8 ring roads and the road in front of Tiananmen Square is 12 lanes. Vancouver is also very pretty. How can it not be when you are able to catch a glimpse of the snow capped mountains from the Banana Republic shop. I suppose my expectations were pretty low prior to my arrival, and I am pleasantly suprised. I like being pleasantly surprised.

Vancouver is what I would call a hip city. I hate that term, but in this case it fits. A bit like Sydney in its eclectic nature, but much more laid back. I like it. Because it is hip, and because it has a Starbucks on every street corner. I kid you NOT!

Am wandering again...

Did you know that the Chinese government implements a firewall so that sites like blogspot cannot be accessed by tourists like me??? Well, this firewall it seems is called the great wall by the locals.

How do I know this? I have been in Beijing for the past week and by God, am I ever so glad to leave it.

10 days ago D was asked to present a paper in Vancouver, and he insisted that I follow him to Vancouver (no, no I can't, it is too expensive for you...Ok) . We were planning to go via Honolulu (whoopee) but as a Malaysian citizen the earliest date for an appointment with an American immigration officer would be 23 December (helloooo). So we thought it would be interesting to visit Tokyo. I had not been there for yonks and D had never been there. Unfortunately, as a tourist in Australia, I was told by the Japanese Embassy that I could go back to Amsterdam or KL to get a visa as they are unable to issue one for me in Sydney. Bloody difficult being a wondering nomad if the damn border control officers are so difficult.

Only option was to go via China...and as the flight went through Shanghai, only a two hour flight from Beijing, we just had to visit the Great Wall.


The Starbucks within the Forbidden City...we had Skim Mocchas

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So we decided within 5 days of the offer to present the paper to go to Vancouver via Beijing...and within 30 minutes of landing we experienced for the first of many many times being fleeced by anyone and everyone Chinese. I hate to say this, but by God do we still have a bad taste in out mouth about being cheated left right and centre so blatantly. Our taxi ride from the airport to the hotel was officially 85 yaun, but we had no choice but to pay 230 yuan. As we haggled over this price (initially 385 yuan) in front of the airport guards, all I could think was "For Gods sake, you are a communist guard, shoot this damn insolent taxi driver!!". But then that was only a taste of the consumerism that has consumed Beijing. We had to haggle for everything, even the price of a taxi to Mutianyu to the Great Wall, with the Hotel tour office. Bearing in mind this is a 4 star hotel!! We started expecting to be cheated and had to start looking at the funny side of it, to avoid resenting the prejudice we were facing.

Don't get me wrong, Beijing is a must see. The Forbidden Palace, the Lama Temple, The Great Wall, the Tianamen Square, Mao's Tomb and the Ming Tomb's, these are historical wonders. But after visiting these sites, I hope that I never have to visit such a characterless, endlessly sprawling city such as Beijing ever again. It is such an unfriendly city, with practically everyone unwilling to assist a tourist who is only interested in experiencing a bit of their forgotten culture. It is the only city that I have ever visited that I wanted to get out of as soon as possible and never go back

Ever.

Their food though is quite good. Shame that we even had to haggle over that.

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I walked along Robson Street in Vancouver today, stepping into the GAP, looking at coats in Zara and finally choosing a baby pink one with a rose patterned lining at Banana Republic (with a cashmere scarf). The salesgirls were friendly without being borderline nasty/accosting and I knew that the stated price was fair and final. Relief. We will be here for a week then off to Shanghai. God help us.