port dickson

8-9 august 2010

or 'PD' as it is affectionately referred to.

had 2 weddings to attend this national day long weekend and was initially semi-bummed to be 'grounded'. however, we did manage to reach some compromise and zoomed up the causeway to explore the peninsular right after the 2nd wedding. love how we decided to go at 2am that morning, grabbed our passports, packed for a night and went to the wedding.

heavy traffic and insanely long queue at the m'sian immigration aside, it was a crazy fun 24h!

the resort lounge had the cheek to charge RM11 for a single espresso.

and in no time it was time to head home, and once back in singapore, it was off to club street for tea.

happy birthday singapore!

and we discovered the best margaritas and nachos at jerry's (92 club street). always nice to chance upon a good restaurant, especially one so close to potentially future home. potentially future home happens to be a stone's throw from work (boo) which may be a good thing, or bad. but for now, and the next few months, it's operation hedonism all the way.

tropical storm

gotta love the view from the pad :)

the swedish take on asian awkwardness

Hahaha! We all think you're being a bit nut! :-D I mean she'd love to stay there for a night with you! :-) Hehehe...kind of fun to watch the two being so polite to each other not to make the other inconvenienced and uncomfortable and in so doing making everything worse.. ;-)

context: i only wanted to stay in a corridormate's room if she was travelling herself and the room was unoccupied i.e. didn't want to stay with her for fear of being an inconvenience

changing seasons

so the scale's different but J lives on the picturesque street just across the road from the hotel i stayed at during my first week in stockholm. in fact, while on the bus to J's, i got all nostalgic retracing my hike to campus in the reverse. had walked the same route in summer (when i'd been too cheap to spring for a transport pass) from the hotel to the housing office and it was practically unrecognisable under all the snow.

had a surprise trip down memory lane when we went over for tea this afternoon and snapped a quick (snowy!) photo of my initial home here. how quickly things have gone full cycle. i'm still in stockholm but it feels like all i have left are stories and memories. feels a little out-of-body at the moment even.

singers boleh

a little circular / redundant but i'm really grateful to be from a country that emphasised a dual first language. or at least a competent degree of bilingualism. sure, many people are bilingual, or pseudo-bilingual at least. but how many countries can boast that they've attained the same linguistic success as my generation of singaporeans? and for almost everybody. it's something the chinese (fake) sushi chef pointed out when i ordered my sushi in mandarin. i've become a bit of a regular there because my use of mandarin scores me extra (read: free) sushi. but his point was how singaporeans have a distinct advantage because we've (almost) conquered east and west with a relatively sound grasp on english and mandarin. granted, english and mandarin don't open all doors, but it's a solid combination.

anyhoos, when i was nattering away in mandarin with H, my chinese corridormate, i realised the sole reason why we get along is because i speak to him in mandarin. and that's the only language the dude wants to speak. the other corridormates merely elicit grunts and reluctant acknowledgement. i, on the other hand, have transcended that and we actually engage in intellectually stimulating political discourse. (aside: thank you higher chinese for making me aware of socioeconomic problems and exposing me to the vernacular of formal mandarin) plus, we found out today that we share the same birthday. how awesome's that! then he tsked my tea (1 x overripe avocado with lime and salt) and offered me his pai gu. fringe benefit or what ;)

the very unfortunate recurring theme on this blog is that i automatically befriend people who feed me. i'd never make a good guard dog.

itadakimas

by far one of my best nights in stockholm. i lucked out with my corridor. neighbours are never necessarily friends, but i must say i've really come to like this bunch. our kitchen and living room are spotless and everyone's largely considerate and tidy. no one sweats the small stuff (except me, when the hoover's missing...) and we genuinely get along swimmingly. am going to miss having them around. indian K's leaving on monday morning, A's going to lebanon on tuesday, C's going back to france, P's returning to gdansk... you get the picture. so this was probably our last night all together in our cramped quarters. our christmas tree's up, we were serenading each other with disney songs (the only genre we've in common, but N sung in french) and it's going to be so quiet around the place as we slowly dwindle in numbers.

i've heard horror stories of co-ed, communal living but this was a rather pleasant experience :)

quote of the day

(looking at the 500g of dry rice in the rice cooker)

me: i hope i don't kill the cooker.

swedish K: i hope you don't kill the corridor.

corridordinner in 10minutes! psyched :D

residential hazards

and as if pizza shack pizza for breakfast, lunch, tea and dinner #1 wasn't enough (nope, i couldn't just buy one), K had to tempt me with home-made pizza for dinner #2.

the perk of having a multicultural corridor with generous, kitchen-crazy corridormates is going to bite me in the ass one day.

i'm already starting to feel it...

the prettiest part

of my room is the ceiling. and it's best viewed from bed, unfortunately. which explains why i spend so many hours curled under the covers. doesn't help that i've thick woollen socks (thank you!) and the coolest hot fan (it's like a hairdryer, only better!) which make for blissful lie-ins.

i need to get out more :(

spontaneous feeding frenzy

i really like my corridor.

according to K, the corridor-dad because he's lived here three years and counting, we really lucked out this time. every single corridor dweller is nice. and while nice is never enough (if you're looking for a soul mate or something) it pretty much suffices for communal living. all the horrors of college dorms somehow don't exist in our little piece of stockholm. the kitchen's always impeccably tidy, the corridor elf (we take turns so it's only your turn every three months) does its duty with aplomb and our inter-personal relationships are cheery. everyone gets along, no politics, just a lot of good-natured ribbing. it's a circus every night at 8ish when we congregate and get in each other's way, in a good way. K tackles A-san, P restrains K, someone helps locate A-san's misplaced slipper, F rolls her eyes at our childish antics, i'm cowering somewhere trying not to watch the latest slasher flick on tv. good times :)

and like tonight, K very kindly cooked me tandoori! i didn't realise how obviously i'd been lusting over his dinner but he offered to make me chicken and i couldn't say no. and he made 1kg for me :D so i've plenty of leftovers for lunch tomorrow, maybe even dinner. mhmmm :) we cook in ways that reflect our individual cultural heritage - indian K cooks curry, japanese A-san does miso soup, swedish K does swedish caviar on hard bread with cucumbers, Y's brother cooks delicious smelling chinese stew, polish P eats something salty (tonight he helped me eat my zucchine e panna because i'd gone a bit heavy on the salt and couldn't stomach it myself) and i steam / fry / boil pork that's pushing expiry.

i wish i'd more time with them but i don't stay in as often as i should. that's one of the reasons why i cherish my sundays so. it's the one day i don't go out / talk to anyone / do anything. i nua at home, pig out on chocolate and chips, gulp tea by the gallon, read trashy magazines and while the day away. i love waking up in the morning and knowing that there's absolutely nothing i need to do. talk about the absence of responsibility! amazing stuff.

am going to miss my corridormates. just when we've warmed up and get along like a house on fire, it's almost time to go home. go home go home go home. i'm obsessed :(

wallpaper

or not.

it's the reflection of my fairy lights and paper ball :)

thoughtfulness

scored a starring role in a mini corridor drama after very carelessly cutting into my thumb while slicing onions last week. shall spare you the gory details but i freaked out at the sight of so much blood and sent K into a panic, until he saw the actual injury. then he called me a baby and laughed in my face before offering to help me tape it up, because we apparently didn't have any band-aids in the entire corri-blooming-dor.

but he did redeem himself by promptly stocking up on first aid supplies and when i came back from london, i saw this thoughtfully stuck on our kitchen door for future emergencies.

bicultural diinner

C and i have been swapping english for french at dinner on tuesday and this week, A joined us. now, A's a legendary cook, having grown up in his chef father's kitchen so even A cooking something as simple as pasta was pretty darn good, especially because he did the sauce himself. no instant nonsense from a bottle, just fresh vegetable goodness.

incidentally, when i was emailing this photo to myself, i accidentally sent it to my father who promptly went into a panic and demanded to know who that 'terrorist-looking dude' was. in fact, he even thought it was some secret code message for i've kidnapped your daughter now gimme the ransom. oh daddy!

C working on the appetiser

and my corridor mates as they were engrossed by family guy. it's such great bonding. american hegemony transcending all cultural boundaries :)

B taking a break from family guy to make the most of his yoghurt

engrossed P

N of morning put-together-ness and terre d'hermes

(yes, i do feel outnumbered at times!)

but i'm fortunate to have really sweet corridor mates who all crowded round when i sought their opinion on do or die. even showed them a simulation and they were (almost) unanimous about do. except C. J, too, was adamant that i shouldn't so i attribute it to a french preference for... (oops, nearly got me there!)

and true to form, i successfully destroyed my sole contribution to the french dinner. bought some powdered seafood bisque in lisbon that we never used so i thought i'd attempt it back in stocks. nevermind the instructions were in portugese. P from poland translated it for me, although he doesn't speak portugese either. i think he made some guestimates and um i subsequently ruined the instant soup. there were mysterious lumps in it that i strained out but the soup was weird nonetheless. darn. it's officially a new kitchen low. thank goodness for polite friends. you can't imagine my sheer embarrassment at serving A of refined palate honed over years of excellent, professionally prepared fine french dining my disastrous soup from a packet. i was mortified.

not the best plating but yummy nonetheless. they've promised bona fide french fare next tuesday. psyched!

kitchen shenanigans

we've decided that we need a corridor slave.

because washing up is too hard to do.

preferably eskimo, so he/she will be small enough to fit in our utilities closet.

also, many things get lost in translation.

for example:

K: A, did your hair get blonder?

A: ah. so. yes. my hair's always getting longer.

K: no! blonder!

A: yes. my hair's, uh, growing.

K: no! blonder! like J's!

A: ano....yes, J's hair is very long. my hair's not so long.

K: i give up.

me: he means lighter.

A: AHHHH. so des ne. yes, it's gotten lighter.

K: that's what i was asking.

(C just laughs at us)

quite coincidentally, the four of us were in the kitchen at lunch time and our lunch choices truly reflect our origins. K the swede wasn't eating, A the japanese had ramen, C the french delicately dipped his honeyed toast in milk and i'd fried my leftover smoked pork with egg and rice (a lazy person's chao fan of sorts).

in related news, B, the other french corridormate bought a computer cable for our busted rice cooker. the cooker K holds me responsible for destroying, even though i insist it wasn't me. but i did conveniently disappear for a fortnight post-destruction. why our cooker now works with a computer cable's beyond me. under K and A's watchful eyes, they gave me a rice cooker crash course and i successfully made my first handful of cooked rice with it. is pleased.

mornings*

this' our coffeemaker

this' how it's plugged in

this' the knob to turn if you want power**

**except that even after an hour's tinkering, i couldn't figure out why the coffeemaker wasn't cooperating. and i thought it was only me who wasn't a morning person! so i ingratiated myself yet again to Kj, my swedish corridormate, who came to my rescue by telling me that stockholm still has electrical relics of this sort that need to be wound before the power mains come on. who'd have guessed that it isn't as straightforward as plugging in a plug!

"you're not just a walking circus,

you're a high-maintenance walking circus!"

and the most embarrassing end to this story is that i never did get my coffee because the water didn't percolate through the filter but the grounds made their way to the pot and it was an absolute disaster i poured the pot down the sink. coffeemaker FAIL (coffeedrinker FAIL, too.)

now what does a girl have to do to get a decent cuppa around here!

*maybe 'afternoons' would be a more appropriate title

grubby paws

some of you may be acquainted with 'throw away!' both the war cry and subsequent nickname of a crazy corridormate of mine. and today, she really got to me.

i'd left my brand new cosmo on the dining table while cooking lunch because, well, who puts a flammable magazine on the stove?! and then suddenly there she was, blowing her drippy nose into her bare hands and then licking the tips of the fingers as she causally flipped the pages of my magazine. lest you think i'm equally psychotic, i usually don't have issue with random strangers browsing my ever-important periodicals. just that i'd prefer if the sickie exercised proper hygiene (it's called kleenex) and some modicum of courtesy ("oh hey, is the magazine yours? mind if i have a look?") but nope! muscus-coated hands trawling through my cosmo. i swear it's got sticky pages now. truly the stuff of nightmares.

when i finally brought my lunch over to the dining table and sat down in ostensible silence, she didn't even bat an eyelid. oh, but after establishing that it was mine, she asked if she could have it when i was done. and then she asked me what my name was,

HAHA.

i'll have to think about that one.

the board is bare

the room-improvement bug bites again and i'm besides myself wondering how else to beautify the place.

bra(g) bra(g)

our ever-enthusiastic caretaker came by to spotcheck our little kitchen and the week before i was on duty, he'd marked us down for being dirty. but when he came to check when it was my turn, he reversed his prior condemnation and declared us clean!

there's also a funny story behind this that was somewhat lost in translation. when i saw the checklist on the dining table with two 'bra's, i was absolutely horrified and took it literally. having just cleaned up the night before, i was appalled that someone had not only partaken in a wild, racy night in my kitchen but also had the audacity to leave her knickers behind. i ran to K (the corridor dad) and asked if he knew of it, and where the aforementioned offensive articles had disappeared to. to my puzzlement, he said, 'good!' and i thought *gasps* maybe he was the culprit! and there he was, equally puzzled at how worked up i was. after much gesticulation and elaborate explaination, i eventually figured out that 'bra' is swedish for 'good'. and we'd actually been given a clean bill of kitchen health. so much for my theory that there was drunken fun happening at night after i'd painstakingly tidied up.

(i'd definitely be more wary of the mop in future if i'd turned out to be right...)

excuse me

don't snipe my biceps!

joke of the day

my italian friend, ask-me-where-i'm-staying-M, is finally moving into his room. while some of us got lucky in the housing lottery, poor M has been a bit of a squatter, bunking with various friends while waiting to strike gold. and strike he did, with a room at lappis no less. so today i asked him where his things were.

"some at R's, some at the other R's, some with me, some with my other friend..."

"oh my you're everywhere!"

"yes, yes i am. i'm like the holy spirit."

and i don't know why but that really tickled my funny bone and i was doubled over in laughter for a good few minutes. yay for the irreverent italians :)