… gave us morning coffee to perk us up.
… landed us at the metro right outside Moulin Rouge.
… afforded us a view of the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur, pristinely waiting on a hilltop.
… sent us carousel horses to ride.
… showed us Paris.
… made sure we could always find the light, to lead us home in the darkest night.
… sold us the cheapest and most delicious warm nutella-banana crepes.
… tempted us with churros even though we filled ourselves out twice over.
At the risk of exposing my entire gluttony being, I bring to you pictures from the recent Penang getaway where we promised to eat at each stop and made no attempt to stop eating and test the stretchability of our tummy power.
The best of the rest is this char kway teow. At a hefty price of 8.50 ringgit a plate for the biggest plate (which is really not big at all), we would have screamed foul if it hadn’t been so incredibly, mindblowingly tasty. It was the first stop of the day and set the precedent for every single meal after. At the end of the day, it won the unanimous vote of championship from our 6 greedy mouths.
We were told that there is a good wanton mee and hor fun store just down the road from where the char kway teow is but we didn’t know how near we were. It was barely 2 minutes before we sat down again in a different kopitiam no less and continued ordering.
The texture of the noodles in Penang is different from the ones in Singapore. The noodles here were springy and bouncy, a product of it being well-made and well-cooked. You know how noodles turn into a starchy lump when overcooked? These noodles are what I’ll like to call as well-defined but it’s probably the wrong term for it. The gravy of the hor fun is a little too starchy for my taste but overall, they are delicious. For one, I am impressed by the number of bones stewing away in the broth to give them the flavour.
Tzi Char, a mix of vermicelli and noodles, stir-fried.
Prawn noodles with hardly discernable prawns but the soup base is amazing.
I am not a big fan of assam laksa but I ate because it is one of the signature dishes of Penang.
Succulent, barbecued chicken wings but the ones in Singapore could be as good.
This wanton mee is cooked in a dark soy sauce as compared to the one we had earlier.
Over the weekend just when we held the little farewell for our 2 friends, my shopping accomplice and I slipped away from Wala Wala to the spacious Antipodean next door and fingered some of the delicate pieces of accessories waiting to be picked up (the word sounds wrong but the idea is right). I ruthlessly pushed aside my guilt and returned with these.
I really got the necklace form of the “Three Wise Owls” but I can’t find an image of it. I am a sucker for heart shapes and lockers and bows and a combination of all three made it a must-have and kills the pocket. The three wise owls sitting sedately in a row, for some reason, made me think of Hedwig in Harry Potter and because owls are in the IN-birds since 2009. No one hardly ever makes woodpecker or magpie accessories so owls must be good.
All “By Invite Only” accessories are packaged individually with a vintage reproduction postcard-lookalike as a backdrop.
They are also available at Polymath & Crust and BlackMarket.
I have considered Fashion as a philosophy of Life. And Philosophy is a big word to me. It deals with existentialism, knowledge, language, values and it thrives on such a broad spectrum that as long as you know how to justify, everything becomes some form of philosophy or another. Fashion is an expression of freedom, a form of inner knowledge to the insiders, speaks a language of its own to people who understand and like it or not, your clothes speak for who you are. Maybe not all of it but by a good measure.
I especially like posts which correlates clothes and fashion with thoughts — linking them to the surroundings, harmonizing them with culture, tempering two wildly diverse natures into one, not unlike something like this. A good example would be the way how Rebecca Bloomfield (Confessions of a Shopaholic) gained popularity with “The Girl in the Green Scarf” column in Successful Savings — being able to strike up a similarity between fashion and investment. I’ve never been a dismal dresser. Sloppy yes but never in a dismal way. You’ll never go wrong with basics. You’ll never manage to look wrong in a plain black tee with a good cut and a pair of fitting jeans and I’m waiting for someone to prove me wrong. You might look common but no, never wrong. And sometimes, being wrong might just turn out .. unexpectedly right. You only have to look at Anna Piaggi to know. I know how you might beg to differ and proclaim that Fashion can never be wrong since it’s a right to express. But tell me honestly, have you never looked at anyone walking along the streets and think to yourself “Gee, it’s so wrong!”. I know I have and I am ashamed of it. Since I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing it doesn’t mean that others with more courage than I have shouldn’t. And that is what fashion unbiasness is about.
Who came up with what’s right in the world to wear anyway?
Anna Piaggi by The Sartorialist
This year, I have tried a little more actively to dress up. In the past and even for the most part of now, I would never bother to dress up much if it’s only for work. If I’m going out with friends after or attending some party, that’s a different story. Being in a job that allows maximum creativity and flexibility with no requirement of powersuits in the least (but draws the line at shorts), I am very lucky and should rightfully be capitalizing that right to its maximum potential. But I have not. If I know that I am going to meet very few people, I’ll not turn up in my best. I’ll probably just lug on whatever I see first in the mountain of clothes. I still don’t think it’s wrong because this method of dressing applies to possibly more than half the population living in Singapore.
People like my mother had told me repeatedly since young that it is nice to be able to dress well but it is unnecessary to if one doesn’t have the means. As long as the clothes are kept clean and tidy with no holes, we should never be ashamed to appear in them. I have always scoffed at the idea (not in my mother’s face of course unless I feel a desire to be whipped) but now that I am blogging about it, I think my mother is a more exemplary example of being more fashion unbiased than I am. Or maybe she is truly wise because Albert Einstein said the same.
If most of us are ashamed of shabby clothes and shoddy furniture, let us be more ashamed of shabby ideas and shoddy philosophies…. It would be a sad situation if the wrapper were better than the meat wrapped inside it.
I suppose that I do know inwardly that clothes do not make a flawed person more beautiful except externally just like how a beautiful face is only a pleasure to the eyes and a repulse to the soul should it come along with a mean spirit. But I’ve never been confident enough without appearing excessive because “just around the corner in every woman’s mind – is a lovely dress, a wonderful suit, or entire costume which will make an enchanting new creature of her”. Most people silently attest to the fact that fat people let themselves go even if they do not spell it out for the fear of being labelled ‘insensitive’. Yet I could see it in their eyes. And the fact that most fat people appear dowdy, unfashionable and slightly greasy strengthened that belief. You might be enraged at my generalization but I am not another stick-thin creature who rants but does not understand. I belong to the world of fat. But god knows I’ve struggled hard in order not to be another statistic to the mounting perception. The country I live in is also not very forgiving to the plus-sized. We have few alternatives to allow ourselves to dress properly, much less to wear them well. We have to shy away from the shiny windows of shopping centres and trawl the lesser known areas that sell clothes that fit and usually these clothes are meant for the aged and have no style to speak of. There are no pleats, cinched waists, form-fitting cuts, cute skirts, appropriate details, delicate tulle to speak of. Fat Fashion is synonymous to a tablecloth with a a hole for the head and two holes for the arms. I find it insulting that we are treated with less dignity so because of this pride, I cannot possibly let myself go. In recent years, we have been a lot better in this part of the world. At least, we are starting to see Dorothy Perkins which runs up to Size 20 and Topshop and Miss Selfridge which brought up their sizes from 14 to 16. Then there is New Look. Little independent stores start to carry passably fashionable items so we are in a much better shape than what would have been 5 years ago except that Dorothy Perkins, Topshop, Miss Selfridge, New Look all hail from UK and could be expensive for those who do not earn nearly enough.
Now and then, I think I’ll add in my blog some cost-saving fashion ideas for the horizontally-challenged tested by yours truly because even though we’re fat, we should not be taken lightly. We should be allowed to live well and present our best to who we are trying to impress.
People seldom notice old clothes if you wear a big smile. — Lee Mildon
Let’s start first by accessorizing with a big smile!
I missed a call when I went to pee and on my return, found that I was spammed with a slew of BlackBerry messages asking me to wake up, don’t sleep, reply and basically, I couldn’t sleep even if I wanted to. My dear friends made sure of that.
On calling back the aforementioned said person, she asked me excitedly if I have anything on tomorrow and if I’ll go Penang with them. Take note that they gave me exactly 12 hours notice. It so happened that a girl who was to go on the trip tomorrow backed out but the accommodation and air ticket was already paid for. Therefore, I just have to pay SGD 60 for “administrative purposes” and top up the difference for the then purchased ticket and the current price which is SGD 48 to go. And so after some deliberation, I agreed even though I envisaged a relaxing weekend just lazing in bed for prolonged period. This was to be the last trip, at least for quite awhile for the travelling group, as 2 of our friends are going back to Canada.
I packed some clothes and a few toiletries and left the rest to them to make the name change with Tiger Airways. We had to make any name change 4 hours in advance but it was already 10+ in the evening and Tiger Airways call centre had already closed for the day. Their opening hour is at 9 a.m. which means we definitely couldn’t make the name change in time for the flight due at 9.50 a.m. So a little disappointed after all the worked-up hype, I unpacked everything again.
In the midst, my friends called again.
This time, they told me in more words than I am going to explain here that they would really enjoy my company and would like me to join them which means they are going to get a new ticket for me and topped up the SGD 100 difference. I was feeling really embarrassed and offered to pay them back but they wouldn’t hear of it. And so the ticket had been booked, things finalized and I am going to Penang in a few hours. It touched me no end about the things that good friends would do for you and for the pleasure of your company. I am glad to have such friends by me and this entry is testimony that I am very grateful indeed.
If there is a favourite scene in the Sex and the City movie, it would not be the gesture of Mr. Big fulfilling the promise of a giant walk-in closet for Carrie (even though that would come in as a close second). Instead, I found the idea of Mr. Big copying out love letters to Carrie sweetly touching even though he did not compose them on his own. One might say he lacks originality but I’ll prefer to think that his Love for Carrie at that time could not be described in words.
I supposed I started taking notice of love letters written by well-known men to their lovers after that — in every movie I saw, every book I read and every mention in papers as long as it was delivered in a honeyed tone. Yes, I’ve had love letters written to me in my younger days. Though our love is gone and we’re no longer in touch, the little notes of yesteryears remained sacred and precious in a box. Though diabetically sweet in words and more so knowing that the man who loved me had such a romantic soul, it was still no comparison to the exulted adoration pinned down in words by the well-known men with the likes of John Keats and Beethoven. Reading their love letters require a strong heart because mine goes into exaggerated palpitations and feels like bursting into fireworks everytime I do (and the letters are not meant for me!). If there is a way one could possibly die from sweetness without the consumption of sugar, this would be it.
The third letter from Ludwig van Beethoven to the Immortal Beloved:
Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved, now and then joyfully, then sadly, waiting to learn whether or not fate will hear us – I can live only wholly with you or not at all – Yes, I am resolved to wander so long away from you until I can fly to your arms and say that I am really at home with you, and can send my soul enwrapped in you into the land of spirits – Yes, unhappily it must be so – You will be the more contained since you know my fidelity to you. No one else can ever possess my heart – never – never – Oh God, why must one be parted from one whom one so loves. And yet my life in V is now a wretched life – Your love makes me at once the happiest and the unhappiest of men – At my age I need a steady, quiet life – can that be so in our connection? My angel, I have just been told that the mailcoach goes every day – therefore I must close at once so that you may receive the letter at once – Be calm, only by a calm consideration of our existence can we achieve our purpose to live together – Be calm – love me – today – yesterday – what tearful longings for you – you – you – my life – my all – farewell. Oh continue to love me – never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved.
ever thine
ever mine
ever ours
From John Keats to Fanny Brawne:
This moment I have set myself to copy some verses out fair. I cannot proceed with any degree of content. I must write you a line or two and see if that will assist in dismissing you from my Mind for ever so short a time. Upon my Soul I can think of nothing else – The time is passed when I had power to advise and warn you again[s]t the unpromising morning of my Life – My love has made me selfish. I cannot exist without you – I am forgetful of every thing but seeing you again – my Life seems to stop there – I see no further. You have absorb’d me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving – I should be exquisitely miserable without the hope of soon seeing you. I should be afraid to separate myself far from you. My sweet Fanny, will your heart never change? My love, will it? I have no limit now to my love – You note came in just here – I cannot be happier away from you – ‘T is richer than an Argosy of Pearles. Do not threat me even in jest. I have been astonished that Men could die Martyrs for religion – I have shudder’d at it – I shudder no more – I could be martyr’d for my Religion – Love is my religion – I could die for that – I could die for you. My Creed is Love and you are its only tenet – You have ravish’d me away by a Power I cannot resist: and yet I could resist till I saw you; and even since I have seen you I have endeavoured often “to reason against the reasons of my Love.” I can do that no more – the pain would be too great – My Love is selfish – I cannot breathe without you.
I thought it was very considerate of John Keats to burn the letters Fanny Brawne gave him. Others said this was done so that she would not be compromised in the days where it would result in a terrible scandal and destroying her reputation but as usual, the idealist in me believes that the act was committed to ensure that the letters were for his eyes only.
One day, I would write a love letter too — in that degree and magnitude.
Some people might wonder why I do movie reviews at a more regular interval than personal blog posts. That is because like how I feel about art imitating life, films (the well-put-together sort) reflects life. In a lot of films, I found cognition in my past experiences and they give a different perspective to what I had never thought about. In films, I cease remembering where I am, who I was and at times, it’s a good thing. I pick and choose my films but it doesn’t mean every good film will strike a chord and every bad one will be damned because the notion of ‘good’ versus ‘bad’ is relative.
I’ve read some Nick Hornby and the fact that he did the screenplay for “An Education” piqued my interest. “An Education” is based on an autobiographical memoir of the same title written by the British journalist, Lynn Barber. The fact that you can read the synopsis in Wikipedia means I don’t have to write one.
In Jenny Miller (Carey Mulligan), I saw some of her in the old me but yet differing by a sizeable measure. She wanted to read English at Oxford, I wanted to study English at no matter where. She wanted to fly free and look at the world, wear black in Paris and babble French — exactly every inch of me. She thought she knew it all and the excitement of truly living (or so she and I thought) at that moment was worth giving up everything for. When she had the chance to go to classical concerts, suppers, auctions and finally even to the land, she always wanted to be in, Paris, with her beau, David Goldman (Peter Sarsgaard), it was a dream-come-true. He was whisking her away from the boring existence of school life and suffocating familial rules like a whirlwind.
From her soft, brown eyes, we saw her regarding her environment with wondrous rapture and artless guile. From the time she met him with her in the rain, her shoulder length hair limp and dripping, school uniform clinging lifelessly about her to her gradual transformation that involves womanly floral frocks, beautifully-cut coats and carelessly done-up chignons, she is but a girl disguised. When he left cowardly when confronted about his marriage, she braved up to straighten things, something I wished I had the courage to do now that I look back (and no, my situation did not involve a married man). It wouldn’t do to give up, she doesn’t run away and hide to cry. She carried on to fulfill her purpose. She had by then discarded the disguise and assumed back her preppy identity.
In the last scene of her riding with a male student in Oxford, she narrates:
So, I went to read English books, and did my best to avoid the speccy, spotty fate that Helen had predicted for me. I probably looked as wide-eyed, fresh, and artless as any other student…But I wasn’t. One of the boys I went out with, and they really were boys, once asked me to go to Paris with him. And I told him I’d love to, I was dying to see Paris…as if I’d never been.”
Oh and definitely read Lynn Barber’s “My Age of Innocence” at Times-Online.
Dear friends,
We are booked for Kings of Convenience and Pink Martini in March for the Mosaic Music Festival!
For those who have no idea, Mosaic Music Festival is an annual event showcasing a good mix of international artists at the Esplanade. So far they have brought to Singapore the Kings of Convenience once before, Si*Se, The Album Leaf, Jason Mraz, Rachel Yamagata etc. This year, we’ll have Babyface, Vashti Bunyan, Melody Gardot, Au Revoir Simone lined up and tickets can be bought from Sistic.
Hope to see you there too,
Ana & The Merry Traveller
I like romantic comedies and I think it’s to fill this empty hole inside me in which no man has occupied for the last couple of years. There had been vague interests in and from different individuals but none had been able to engage the full capacity in which I know it is capable of.
I look for signs which I know if they should never appear, indicate a possible failure right from the start. Number one, the quickening of the pulse. Two, the unbearable ache of thinking about the person. Three, clutching onto the cellphone with trepidation of missing messages and calls. Time after time, the pulse ceased to quicken, the thoughts diffused and then, it’s time to wait for another. I never lost hope completely though and I think it’s the romantic comedies and the novels that helped me to pull through the darkest hours, keeping Loneliness at bay.
It was Hugh Dancy who caught my attention and retained it long enough to read the catch phrase of ‘Adam’. Even though his appearance in Confessions of a Shopaholic was airy but I maintain that the fault is, in no way, Mister Dancy’s. There was no room to portray any depth in Luke Brandon’s character because no offense to Sophie Kinsella, there is none. Luke Brandon in Confessions of a Shopaholic was a necessary prop as the knight in shining armour to save the spendthrift damsel in financial distress, Rebecca Bloomwood. So ‘Adam‘ is a story about 2 strangers. One a little stranger than the other. Most of my friends know that I have an affinity for strange. I have attracted some strange men in life. I have been called odd and weird occasionally but non-offensively. I never saw being called strange, odd, queer, weird as insults or something personal. These terms only serve to emphasize differences and a lack of reconciliation with the usual and may I add, boring social norms. Stranger beings often found ways to surprise me, exasperate me and invoke more emotions than my regular amused tolerance bordering on condescension for predictable bores.
It was apparent that Adam, the protagonist in the movie had no way to discern subtle hints. He takes conversations at face value very explicitly and displays social ineptitude at every turn. He is aware of it but doesn’t see any wrong in it. We saw him stocking his fridge with the same type of food: macaroni & cheese and a display of a neatly organized wardrobe and we didn’t know why. Events in the movie would reveal gradually that his orderliness is not a genetic or acquired trait but a sustenance of a comfortable continuity he knows. Brutal honesty is not an indulgence of his but a way of life. He exercises no tact during conversations because he doesn’t feel that there is a need to. In his view, if you don’t know something, you ask questions and you’ll question to the void to get an answer.
Adam’s way of life has a name “Asperger Syndrome” which is a form of autism. People with Asperger display intense interests in certain subjects and for Adam, it is astronomy. He goes into an overdrive when talking about his favourite subject, not knowing when to stop because he does not know that his recipients are not interested. Adam does not adopt well to change. When his routine motion is rudely interrupted, he loses control.
No coy, no lies and in a literal way, we can say that Adam is born to be honest.
Quite out of the blue back in the apartment the next day after their midnight traipse to Central Park, Adam asked Beth if she feels sexually excited watching the raccoons because he did. Don’t worry about going “Whaaat the fuck” mentally because I did too. I guess he had to do or speak something odd with Beth in order to bring his syndrome to light.
Yet Adam could be impossibly sweet, bringing his neighbour Beth to Central Park to watch raccoons at midnight, leaving a mug of coffee at her doorstep just because he knew she stayed past her bedtime, the willingness to allow her time to nurse her broken heart indulging in her crap talk of kisses and hugs but no sex and taking a sudden initiative to kiss her.
As with feel-good movies, a life-changing experience must occur. He upped himself and moved to California where he was offered a job with an observatory. We see him starting to accept social engagements and even offering to help with parcels which is an indication of improvement.
Hugh Dancy as Adam was credible. This is a pleasing role in which where his character lacks in social empathy, he draws it from his audience. The engagement of structured mannerisms and monotonous drones alluded a mechanism of thoughts, inferring on emotions. Then again, Hugh Dancy is such a pretty man that I am almost willing to believe anything he is acting. To digress a little, I’m glad it was Claire Danes he married because it could have been any of those simpering, insipid socialites or actresses but he got lucky. Rose Byrne on the other hand, is the kindly neighbour, Beth, who draws Adam out of his self-imposed exile, slowly but surely. She is a childcare teacher but aspires to write children books. Pairing with Hugh, I feel a little lack of chemistry, not the cosy warm couple I’ll like them to be but maybe I live for warm and fuzzy. If you are looking to curl yourself into a little ball in your home and dream a little about love, Adam is a viable watch.
Adam, his mother, and his father were a family of talking raccoons that lived in the middle of New York City. They didn’t really belong there, but there they were.
Merry Christmas folks!
Although today is not the actual day anymore but hey, there are 12 days of Christmas so everyday should be no less joyful than the last.
I like this time of the year best because it allows me to be reflective. We bring about a facelift to the old and harness in the new. We buy new diaries and finger through their crisp pages of snowy white blanks. We feel the stretch of time once again as we display new table calendars. Don’t get me wrong. I value the old but sometimes we get too hung up about the past that we are unable to move in forth. One step in front and one step back returns you to square one. I was just scrolling through Twitter tweets when I saw one from BBC about New Yorkers getting together on Good Riddance Day to publicly destroy documents of bad memories which made me think it was an awesome idea. I want to write down unpleasant memories on scraps of paper, shred them and start on a clean sheet next year. It sounds like an act of a teenage drama queen to some I’m sure but perhaps what we need is some form of ritual to cleanse our minds. In the very least, I respect ritual.
So in the coming year of 2010, I have quite a few endeavours that I hope to achieve that I have never attempted before. Surprisingly in the list, there are some culinary inclinations.
1. Learn to make surprisingly delicious and healthy salads with pomegranate seeds in them
2. Bring in homemade goodness to gatherings instead of buying them all!
3. Write a zine of short love stories, compile them and give it to intimate friends
4. Repaint the room to a pastel pink and dark brown theme
5. Sleep earlier and drink 8 glasses of water a day
That’s all I can think of for now. I know there are some things which sound pretty mundane and a part of your day-to-day life but it’s not for me and that’s why it made its way to the list. Perhaps the list will get longer. Perhaps the list will never get short but as long as we have tried, the sincerity is all it needs.
