All grown up and nowhere to go

Archive for the ‘travels’ Category

Flying back home to Jakarta tomorrow to attend younger cousin’s wedding. The fact that he’s getting married at 23 when I can’t even maintain a relationship with my hairdresser is not depressing in the least. What’s depressing is the very probable likelihood that I’m not going to be able to fit into my Trixilini dress for the wedding anymore after continuous bingeing at work.

Why? Why do the gods create McDonalds breakfast with pancakes on the menu?? Why are there kaya toasts??? Worst of all, why do delicious excessively sweet teh exist? (I’m hoping all the dancing I’ve done recently has a somewhat muting effect on the fat load accumulation, but the fact that I eat before+after the dancing may have an even more muting effect on the supposed muting effect.)

Anyways, bloody jampacked flying ahead. Saturday noon to Jakarta, wedding on Sunday, then we’re off to a Bali “family holiday” on Monday. Flying back to Jakarta on Thursday, Christmas on Friday, then back to Sing on Saturday night.

“Then… when would we have time to shop?” I asked my dad (I’d wanted to restock my Indo-translated Jap comics). But does he care? NOOOOO.

Anyways, it’s midnight and I’ve yet to coordinate space for the three pairs of heels I’m bringing into half a suitcase (my space allocation, as sharing with younger sis… I’m hoping to invade some of her territories). Adios!

Yet another blogging pit stop during this rather eventful Euro trip. Mike got a cut in his chin from being drunk and slipping on his own puke (elegance does not describe it) and there was a moment or two or a thousand when havoc prevailed in his residence, which usually is the epitome of a peaceful idyllic household. Sorta.

I’m really grateful he & his ‘bro’ (seems Milan has become the city of bromance) let me squat here for free + steal his time away with Jing. It’s been awesome hanging with my bff again although I hate her non-existent tummy. And I’m really happy I get to see them together like this. If nothing else their relationship is something to hang on to to prove that love may still be in the air somewhere all mixed up with dust, and being mushy in public, albeit gross, is okay.

Sad that this trip is going to end in a few days and I have to go back to dull old work life. But I’m looking forward to seeing my old colleagues again, and I hope they won’t have forgotten me already…

Not sure of what else to write. So many things on my mind but they fleet away like feathers in a sandstorm (or sommit like that). I think my brain is degenerating at a faster pace than normal human beings. One morning I was trying to enunciate that I felt bad for sleeping so soundly whilst Mike & Jing slept in a puke-infested environment and I came out with ‘sleeping like a… tortoise’. Somehow the word ‘babe’ escaped me even after thinking for what seemed like forever. Zzz. I need to read more books and watch less ANTM.

Katy Perry’s ‘Thinking of You’ is playing non-stop inside my head. Addictive song! Cheery-bye!

Blogging from Ray’s comp now, who is Mike’s good friend, and Mike is Jing’s boyfriend, and Jing is my bff.

Milan is just as hot as Greece, and even hotter at times as there’s no sea breeze to cool your senses. Speaking of Greece, thanks to Neutrogena sunblock SPF70, the only parts of my skin burnt are: 1) my scalp, 2) a triangular cleavage area on which I forgot to put on the sunblock. Because, ya know, it’s easy to forget that I have a cleavage.

Greece was all about suntanning, travelling by ferries to and fro, eating a slow dinner of grilled octopus*. Milan is all about chillaxing at Mike’s place at night and shopping up a storm during the day. At least, that’s what I’ve been doing for the past 1.5 days. Supposed to go up to Como with Jing tomorrow, aimed with the baby SLR my colleague lent me all ready to take good shots. But seriously I feel so nua. Maybe all the gelato’s gone up my brain and turned it into slush.

I’ve been feeling so bored with life lately and this ennui has accompanied me to Europe. Sad truth. And ennui translated itself to bo-chup-ness which is bad, badbadbad. I don’t know what to do anymore. There’s a sense of restlessness around me like a tiger readying itself for prey. Although I wouldn’t know for sure as I’ve never been a tiger.

Hey Life, throw me something good will ya? Give me that awesometastic placement I’ve been waiting for. Give me a sign, in a dream, that I’ll suddenly win Euro millions tomorrow even though I don’t even know how it works. Get me a call from Citi which says I’ve been a loyal credit card user of theirs and they’ll give me free SQ flights to anywhere in the world plus accom. Blow me away with a sudden stock windfall. Give me free clothes for life so I can sell some of them off and make money.

As Mike would say it in all his vulgar glory, give me a damn fucking miracle.

*Awesomeness personified. Or should I say octopusenified.

Huzzaaaah! Have landed safely without luggage misplacement @ Heathrow. It’s amazing. And the immigration bit, though there was a long queue, was surprisingly painless. The officer only asked the standard questions. Guess having a job helps. As a student I was grilled to the bone!

Plane ride was OK too, as I requested for an aisle seat and specifically told the counter girl that I would like easy access to peeing. Was seated to two Eastern-European gentlemen who seemed to not be accustomed to flying. They only went to the loo once in 12.5 hrs, no doubt holding their number 1 and 2 in out of politeness / embarrassment / something else. Well, all the better for me to watch the in-flight entertainment with. (Though I’ve watched most of the shows worth watching so I ended up snoozing most of the time… I did watch He’s Not That Into You again. Scarlett Johannson still comes across as bitchy, and Ben Affleck as The One You Should Aim For, Ladies.)

Can’t wait to have a girlie movie night out with Syd & Jess… We haven’t done that for ages. I remembered there was once all three of us drove and we headed for supps afterwards… Shiokness šŸ™‚ Let’s do it again! I miss random girl talk @ HK cafes.

Nobu tomorrow if there are seats.

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The Hong Kong Airport Express has a brilliant view of cables n stuff.

The past few weeks have zoomed by. Can’t remember the last time I put pen to paper, or in this case, fingers to keyboard. I went to Bangkok with the team followed by Hong Kong with Zee, Yang + pardners. If you were to ask me what I’d gained from the 2 trips, I’d say a few kgs and a bit more street wisdom.

But mostly, the few kgs. Although surprisingly I measured myself the moment I get back and voila, it is but a phantom weight gain. I celebrated by eating copious amounts of potato chips, which I am sad to say would probably solidify the phantomness. I can feel it already, creeping around my cheeks, wrapping my already non-existent jawline into a cushiony ball.

Hmmm. Given the amount of weight-whining I do, it’s a wonder you don’t see me at the gym often. This is because I believe in miracles. I believe that without doing anything much other than feeling dismayed as one’s size 0 jeans get stuck below the hips, one can attain the Nirvana of Weight Loss.

But OK, I swear I will gym more and dance more once the lethargy of holidays has been uplifted (although I’m still on the lethargy of the first HK trip last Dec atm).

On the Boy Front – (well, we all know what’s on a Boy’s Front *cough*, but sleazy interpretations aside…) Daddy Fatfat is doing well. I somehow lost track of Fatfat himself, but given the lack of news I presume he has yet to drown and / or get stuck beneath a coral. Long live Fatfat! I bought Daddy Fatfat manly outfits from both BKK and HK, which I will force him to wear even if they fit horribly. ‘Cuz for every 1 piece of clothing / accessory thingy I bought for Daddy Fatfat, that’s one less CK underwear / DvF goody for me.

Thus I have run out of things to say. I could of course go on to discuss the relativity of time, that the past, present and futureĀ are only separate things because we view them that way, not seeing that time is just another word for distance. Because, when you take a step forward, aren’t you moving one tick in time as well?

I could. I could go on about that. But why bother?

Nights!

IS OUT OF STOCK EVERYWHERE!!!

sniff.

I’ve tried MPH, Times, that bookstore chain at Changi Terminal 2… and no luck. What on earth is going on? That book is either very unpopular or very, very popular. Now I feel like kicking myself in the head (a feat that is physically impossible, which just goes to show how unflexible I am) for not getting it in that supermart next door to the Shanghai office. Imagine this – for the better of THREE WHOLE WEEKS I have visited that supermart, hovering over the minuscule spinning rack of books with limited range of English titles but which happened to include American Gods. All I did was be indecisive over whether or not to buy, as I doubted the book was gonna be any good.

And now, true to the theory of supply and demand, the lack of its supply in Singapore had made my demand for it stronger.

I doubt I can find it here in Jakarta. I checked out the Gramedia at Mall Artha Gading earlier. Came out with comic books (under the Children’s Section –Ā  why do they label their sections like that?), because the Import Books section consisted of dictionaries, travel books, andĀ not-so-good management books.

Now I am totally craving for:
1) American Gods
2) The Wolf of Wall Street (it is always satisfying to read about the downfall of a rich, successful person)

On to Something Which Is Not Book-Related…

Jakarta. My first greeting was the humidity which smacked me in the face the moment I stepped out of the plane (economy class, 51st row, window seat behind a cheenapok who couldn’t decide whether or not to buy from KrisShopper = TORTURE). I had to take off my cardigan. Hellooooo, sweat, dust and crowds of dark moustached men squatting and fanning themselves.

5 things I do not love about my hometown:
1. Pollution
2. Car air-con which refuses to cool the air sufficiently
3. Traffic jam (I was complaining about the traffic jam since the cars were all moving so slowly, and my dad told me THAT was considered smooth traffic and cannot be called a jam since cars were still moving)
4. Overt displays of poverty everywhere. I am very disappointed with the government, although at least now they’re letting the Chinese have a 1 day CNY holiday.
5. w-e-a-t-h-e-r

5 things I love about my hometown:
1. I have a bigger house here. Can actually run up and down the stairs and around the dining hall without bumping into the bathroom, the closet, the study desks and the front door.
2. Krispy Kremes are in existence here.
3. Range of comic books in readable Indonesian versus Mandarin (of which I can only read my Chinese name and the numbers 1 – 10).
4. Having a driver. But then again, it’s a gift mixed with a curse, since the public transportation here is utterly unreliable (including the taxis sometimes), so that you’re totally dependent on having a car and a macho-looking male companion to protect you from unwanted consequences.
5. FOOD. FOOD FOOD FOOD.

Speaking of which, I totally love the shower in this house. I think it has an inbuilt intelligent technology. For one, the water flow is set to ‘rhythmic’, with the water jetting out at low and high pressure interchangably every half a second. For another, while I turned the tap to ‘HOT’, the water flowing out was freezing cold, which was EXACTLY what I needed because with the sweltering weather, hot water will just be unbearable (me turning it to ‘HOT’ in the first place is totally a case of the consumer not knowing what she wants).

Meh… I think there is something wrong with the underground pump… I is gonna check the state of the heater tomorrow.

But for now, outs!

Am reading Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere. It’s an intriguing novel with a lovable main character in itself, but since the setting is London, both normal London and a rather twisted, upside-down version of it, I loved the book all that much more.

I went to google for the tube map and as all the familiar stations flash before my eyes I was overcome with wanderlust.

I’m intrigued by places such as London, and Hong Kong. Lights and Chinatown and rude joustling and life. Winter time, and people are wrapped in layers and coats, lint hanging of them, poking out with static. Wintry, visible breath and Starbucks and PretĀ a Manger around the corner. Buses chugging into vision, efficient and on time. The crowded underground tubes / trains / trams, interlinked and confusing, stopping every 3 minutes with a halt in consecutive stations which are of walkable distance from each other.

I don’t know what it is about these places that beckons to me. I just know that I have to go there again, sooner rather than later. And thanks to Neil Gaiman, I will dream tonight of “mind the gap”.

I am, in a rather weird way, happy. My current rotation is in a place where I feel not necessarily comfortable but sufficiently intrigued. In fact, I can’t imagine ever doing anything else that would feel as exhilarating. I WANT to move on to be one of those dealers, quoting currencies and locking in revenues in mere seconds. There is a rhythm and a hum in the dealing room, as if it were alive in itself, an entity made up of shouts of “dollar yen”, “expiring options to be exercised”, and “fuck that first level of support”.

It made me that little bit scared every time I enter the room, scared and small. Kind of like how cities like London make me feel. But it’s a bit like going into the swimming pool. The first contact is always cold, uninviting; then you force yourself in all the way and find it’s not so bad after all. In fact, you’re swimming and the water buoys your body upward and life’s a joy. Then you get out, shivers, tested the water again and it’s cold again, so it always feels like the first time, everytime.

I want that, and I want the world.

And I want Waterloo.

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