Dog Fantasy

I so want a dog.
I think I want a Border Collie.
Pretty obsessive, these dogs. I can understand obsession. I understood it pretty well. Maybe we can obsess how to entertain each other.

Wa ha haaaaaaa.

See this?
http://www.kingsleydog.com

A Border Collie who used to live in Singapore. I wonder if I should move to Singapore so that I can get a dog?

Maybe I can use that as an answer in my job interviews.

" Why do you want to work for us?"
" I want a dog. And I can't keep dogs in Malaysia without people throwing me dirty looks; and living in worry all the time."

Do you think I can get the job with this answer?

am back

the revival of this blog is upcoming.
sorry to be away for so long.. was going through a particular soul-searching episode of my life with upheavals, stress and ...
weight loss!!!

yeah, i am so please with the outcome..

My Sweet Home

back in Kuala Lumpur.
being generally lazy.
started cooking again.
had a temporary shopping insanity because of sudden release from the constraint of singaporean exchange rate.
wandered into Gulati's and "accidentally" bought 1.8m of Shantung silk. Sigh. Such beautiful fabric. How can I not know it existed? It will become a baju Kedah top.

came home today from a very opinionated male tailor, and saw my apartment in the best evening light.

Christmas at Orchard

There is this thing about exams. For a few weeks in your life, your mind is totally focused. After it ended, you suddenly don't know what to do with your life.

I spent an entire Saturday being generally very bored and frustrated.

and went out on Sunday to the National Museum, but the exhibits were really mundane. I thought I get to see a roomful of modern furniture, but I got to see 3 Eames chairs.



I went to Orchard Road after that. The Christmas lights are up.
I was thinking, hey, what's so fun about Orchard Road? It's a streetful of shopping malls. The shops are almost the same as in Kuala Lumpur but if you are talking about Valentino, I can't afford it anyway.



It was really quite fun. The lights are great. The atmosphere vibrant. And I behaved like a little delighted tourist with my camera.



With God, all things are possible.
This is outside Tangs. The Tang family are really religious I heard.



I think I like trees with red bows.

The Christmas carols are the same throughout the entire Orchard Road. I wonder how they synchronized it and were looking for loudspeakers.



This was me.



Orchard Road.

What I did on My Birthday

In the morning I loitered on bed, and refused to get up. Even though I have an exam coming up.

I went to the hawker centre and ate fried carrot cake for breakfast, which is actually my Saturday/Sunday routine. But today, I ordered the black version instead of my usual white. For those unfamiliar with the Singaporean Fried Carrot Cake, it comes in two version, black and white. I don't know what they put in the black, it's a sauce suspected to be thick soya sauce, and much sweeter and flavourful than the white . I still prefer the white, the freshness of radish really shines through without the black sauce overpowering it.

I bought 1 persimmon, 3 jambu air, 1 Vietnamese ciku, and 3 American plums. That should be enough fruits to last one week.

I studied statistics at a leisurely pace. Hey, it's my birthday right? I should take it easy.



I ate the persimmon. It's surprisingly tasty. I only ate one other persimmon one other time many years back. It was hard and horrible. In retrospect, I think that historical persimmon was not ripe yet. Fruit stalls should put signboards in front of exotic fruits to teach people when to eat it. No? I had the same dilemma with an avocado just last week.

To think my forefathers came from a district in China which is renowned for dried persimmons. Persimmon eating skill is not passed down through the genes apparently. It got lost with this tropical descendant.

I studied Multiple Logistic Regression.



I went to a restaurant in the neighbourhood for my fancy birthday dinner. I ate pan-seared cod and creamed spinach with coffee scented macademia nuts.

Cod is best steamed I think.

Walking back, I past by a few overpriced bakeries. Looking at the mudcakes, cheesecakes, tiramisu, lemon meringue pie, key lime pie... I decided no cake for my birthday. No reason to put on weight just because it's a birthday.

But I bought a macaron for breakfast tomorrow. I have never ate a macaron before and never baked one. I don't know what goes in there, not in the way I know half the pie crust is made of butter, and the whole cheesecake is made of cheese except for the base .

Ignorance is bliss.



My 32nd birthday is about food and statistics.

The Unbearable

I once read the book The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera. I was very young, in my late teens. I heard many mentioned that you have more understanding of it when you are married/ in a serious relationship.

Maybe. Maybe I should reread it again.

What has it got to do with this photo of a Singaporean skyscraper I took on a walking trip with the faculty?

None.
I am bored. I have to study for my exams next week. I have a boring assignment to finish.

All I want to say is I am suffering from an Unbearable Boredom of Being

Becak of Jogja

I haven't taken a becak since I was a young child. I don't think I see them anymore in my hometown. They must have been extinct there.



There are plenty of becak in Jogja. On the first day I was there, I refused all the becak offers and insisted on walking. I like to walk, and quickly realized the folly of my ways. Jogja was searing hot, a lot hotter than Malaysia and Singapore. I became so exhausted and have to go back to the hotel to rest.

So I learned.

1.
I talked to becak man on the way to the Malioboro. Being a Malaysian seems to provoke a lot of curiosities from these Javanese. The becak man is probably around 30s, I asked if he is married. He has school going children. He asked me if primary school is free in Malaysia. In Indonesia, they use the word "gratis" instead of our "percuma" for "free". I said yes. He talked a lot more about school fees. I didn't quite understand but it seemed to be steep.

He woke up at 4am to start work and go home at 12 midnight.


2.
I was going back to the homestay from Malioboro. I boarded the beca of a more elderly man. I asked him if he know the Jalan Suryodinigratan is. He nodded and mumbled.

I didn't think he understand Bahasa Indonesia or my Malaysian attempt at Bahasa Indonesia well.

At one junction, he asked me if we are suppose to turn left. I said I don't know. He turned left.

After a while, I realized he was getting lost.
I took out my map and showed him. We asked a pedestrian. Pedestrian told me the directions in Indonesian. I asked pedestrian to tell that to Becak man and while they sorted things out in Javanese on the sidewalk, I sat on the becak rolling my eyes to the sky.

Upon arrival at the homestay, becak man was highly annoyed and "scolded" me in a torrent of Javanese. Even though I don't speak Javanese, being scolded is a pretty obvious thing. Of course I scolded him back. It's not my fault he got lost in his own town !! And he said he knew where the road was!! But I offered to pay him more. It was a really long ride.

That pacified him immediately and he said "thank you" with gratitude, but I continued to tell him to go get a map.


3.
A young fella in his early twenties was peddling his becak parallel to me while I walked. It was a very short distance and I intend to walk.

He persuaded me in a very good natured Indonesian banter.." come I will bring you from shop to shop. Why do you want to walk? It's hot and you will get tired.."

( Isn't this common wisdom? Don't walk under the sun or you get tired.)

We went to see batik, shop to shop. Then I wanted to lunch at Bale Raos. The Sultan of Jogjakarta frequents this restaurant. I saw the menu online the night before and was really intend to try a duck with fried pineapple slices, a dish from the court of Jogjakarta. The young man seemed to think Bale Raos is a bad idea of a lunch and tried to dissuade me. He told me it's really expensive. I insisted on going so he had to comply. Nearing the destination he wouldn't give up his cause and asked me in English " Are you sure you want to go there?"

We strike a deal that while I was having lunch, he could go home to bring his car to bring me to the airport.( and yes, I was quite surprise he has a car) Before that we would stopped at my hotel to pick up the luggage and en route to the airport we would stop at the Affandi Gallery.


After lunch I was waiting for him nervously. He was late. I started walking and on the look out to call another becak, then in the middle of the road, he appeared in a.. motorcycle!

He was apologetic and explained the car was out and he couldn't use it, but it's ok! He would bring me to the airport in the motorcycle!

I eyed the beaten up bike suspiciously, put on his flimsy helmet and we went back to the hotel for my luggage. On the bike, he asked me how's lunch. I said the restaurant is not opened for lunch and I went to eat at the small warung. He was amused and laughed.


While I was carrying my luggage out from the hotel to his bike, I started to worry. The airport is more than 20km away. I questioned about the feasibility of carrying my luggage on his bike. He put it in front of him, squeezed my bag with his kneecaps and demonstrated, "See!! I told you we can carry the luggage on the bike.."

!!!
Ehh......I didn't want to be involved in an accident two hours before my flight. I told him I am scared and I didn't want to take his bike. I would call a cab from the hotel. I took out my wallet and asked him how much is the fare from the restaurant to the hotel.

He waved it away. No need.

Batik in Jogjakarta

I finally recovered from my Batik Dissapointment to make this post. On my last day in Jogjakarta, I was determined to find some good batik to see. Here I wandered into this massive airy shop.

And was shown a guided tour of their batik process without requesting.



There are a whole wall of these stamps. I wish I have taken the whole picture of it. But here is the detailed look at some of it.


Here is the man pressing the stamp into hot wax. There were some kind of canvasy stuff to absorbed the wax? ( oh, by the way, I like this photo of the muscular forearm)


stamping it on cloth.


Ladies using canting. Take note that the cloth is simply draped over, and not stretched on frames like in Malaysia.


Here is a closer look on all those waxed design, all draped over. Why are they not stretched on frames? and interestingly the wax is not CRACKING or breaking with this kind of treatment... I suspect their wax is a different type than the type we use. Yes... that must be it.. a different wax.. of mixture of wax...

Anyway, I attempted to buy some wax, but it was not sold anywhere. The same shops that do not sell wax, do sell canting though. Funny right? I think some tourists buy the canting as souveniers.


After dye immersion.



Some of the finish products! Cost about 1 million to 1.2 million Indonesian Rupiah, approximately RM400.

A sight to behold.
Some day when I am richer, I shall wear it as status symbol.

:P

Swimming in Singapore

The University has an olympic size pool AND a very nice training pool. About 1.1meter throughout. My kind of pool.

Unfortunately I have to swim in the early afternoon because my classes are at night and the pool closes at the exact time my classes end. I don't like the sun especially when it's bright and shiny, but the caucasians love it.

They came out in droves in this kind of accursed weather, and sunbath around the pool.

What a contrast to me scrutinizing with heavy frowns at my deepening tan.

My (beloved) beautician/ skincare consultant issued me a stern warning, " Swim in the sun in another four months, you will have freckles. The sun is BAD for the skin even with sunblock!"

She said "Why don't you change another exercise?"

Yoga?
Am already doing it, but I really still need to go to the pool.

I love it when I was suspended underwater, in the peaceful watery silence with my mind in clarity.

It's a form of meditation.

Sunday Outing

I went to Kampung Glam.


There was a mosque which is suppose to be a tourist attraction. I didn't go there for the mosque. I was suppose to be going to Haji Lane, which is suppose to be a really hip place with lots of funky apparels. But I went there at noon, none of the shops were open.



Even on closer look, it's really a run of a mill mosque. Maybe there are not too many mosques in Singapore, or Singapore promotes anything which is vaguely more interesting than the acres of HDB flats.



Then I went to this colonial looking bungalow with a large compound. It's suppose to be a Malay Heritage Centre or sort.

It started raining. I went to sat under the wooden pondok.



There are banana trees in Singapore.