Mingalaba Myanmar

I love learning that my knowledge and travel experience in Southeast Asia is increasing bit by bit. This coming week, The Company is sending me for a week of travel in Myanmar with the agents. I’m so000 looking forward to it. The good thing about working for a travel company? I didn’t have to worry one bit about my air tickets and visa. My colleagues had already settled them on my behalf.

Technically, I had been to Myanmar, not once but twice. While based in Mae Sai for fieldwork several years back, I crossed the Thai-Burmese borders to visit Tachileik. This is a border town with a somewhat ‘rough’ reputation and probably makes one of the worst introductions to Myanmar. I remember meeting a Burmese chap who charmed me with his fluent English and sold me a beautiful laminated map of his country. Other than that, I visited Shwedagon Paya (a scaled-down version of the renowned Shwedagon Pagoda) and some staged hilltribe villages that resemble a human zoo.

So, I can’t wait to see the real Myanmar! Mingalaba Yangon, Mandalay, Bagan and Inle Lake!

Brown Dogs & Co

For some unknown reasons, the dogs which I chanced upon when I took a short cut across Chulalongkorn University last Saturday were all brown. I took the chance to capture these canine friends, in their varying shades of brown, sizes and temperaments. Some dogs gave me a sleepy smile, some gave the pensive look while the unfriendly ones made growling sounds to express their displeasure at me having invaded their spaces.

Chocolate

Cocoa

Bronze

Coffee, Chestnut, Copper & Cappuccino.

Mothers, same same but different

It’s very interesting to observe the different attitudes shown by our respective mums whenever mr;p and I call home. I’m sure both mothers love their children very much, but perhaps owing to character, upbringing or cultural differences, the ways they express their concern for us are totally different.

My mum claims she doesn’t like to chit-chat on phones, so she always tries to pass me on to my father within one minute of picking up my call. She would always say, “Nothing important right? Don’t waste your phone bill. Oh, remember to buy some lipsticks for me before you come home.” That’s it. Short.

Mr;p’s mum, meanwhile, laments that her son doesn’t call home often enough. And whenever he does, usually once a week, they can talk for ages. Without a doubt, she will always enquire about me, for I would hear my name mentioned several times during their conversation. I can sense that she wants to talk to me, so sometimes, I would volunteer to speak to her on the phone. I appreciate her efforts to switch to Thai to communicate with me for Isan is her native tongue. (Isan is to Thai as Hokkien/Teochew/Cantonese is to Mandarin.) I would fumble along and pepper our conversation with some simple Isan words which, without fail, always elicit laughter on her end. Phrases such as “I miss my son and I miss you too” comes from her effortlessly. Knowing that I like the neighbour’s asparagus – the best and most succulent I have ever tasted in my life – she likes to update me about these green shots and says she will cook them for me again when we next visit. Sweet, isn’t it? So mr;p, can you call your mummy more often?

These mummies may be different, but their children love them very much. And they show it in different ways too.

I care

This comes a bit late, but on 9 August 2009 at 8.22pm, what were you doing?

I was at Simpang Bedok, enjoying chendol and other local desserts with the family. And no, I didn’t stand up to recite the pledge.

To me, patriotism need not be shown in such ostentatious ways. Reciting the pledge at the stipulated time seems too staged to me, and by not abiding it doesn’t mean I love my country less than those who did. And hanging the Singapore flag doesn’t make you a better Singaporean.

Anyway, work has slowed down a tweeny weeny bit in the office, so I’ve been able to sneak some time to catch up on readings on Singapore by the so-called ‘alternative media’ (not the Shitty Times of course).

Because I care, but that doesn’t mean I agree with you all the time. Read ‘Why should we be grateful to present PAP?‘.

The boy and the worm

I captured a shot of mr;p unaware and reading a book on the grass during our picnic last Sunday. However, what I didn’t realise when I clicked the camera was the little worm on mr;p’s back (I only saw it when I uploaded the pictures onto my laptop). Anyway, back to the scene. A few minutes later, mr;p finally felt the creepy crawly on his neck. Clearly agitated, he stood up abruptly, mumbled under his breath, thrashed his arms wildly and flicked the boneless creature off. Meanwhile, I was laughing non-stop at witnessing this hilarious sight.

Back in Tampines

And with that, my 5-day trip back home came to an end. Once again, it was filled with lots of meet-ups with friends and over-eating with the family. Lovely, decadent and fattening.

It’s been a year. And I’m not ready to call it quits yet. An overseas experience is good. I have learned more about myself. An experience which otherwise wouldn’t be afforded back home. If there’s an opportunity, I would encourage everyone to go out, see more and experience life.

I hope Singaporeans will become more tolerant,  embracing of diversity and courageous. I really dislike comments such as “Aiyoh, why you go Thailand? How can survive on that kind of pay? Isn’t Thailand unsafe?” Blah, blah, blah. Why don’t more people respond with “How’s working with Thais? How is it different? Is there anything interesting or unique about Thailand we didn’t know about?” Instead of wanting to hear my experience, they immediately reiterated their own preconceptions.

Anyway, I’m glad to see my parents healthy, jovial and bitten by the travel bug. It was Yunnan earlier this year, Beijing in the coming months and Bangkok for them next Chinese New Year. Now that my and Piggy are almost grown up, I’m more than happy to see them travelling more often and rewarding themselves with well-deserved breaks.

Till the next trip back home in November when we will see a lovely Fish in her bridal gown.

pleasant dreaming

Currently reading Paulo Coelho’s Eleven Minutes. A very compelling and inspiring read. Coelho’s books never fails to make me think about life, fan the desire to dream and most importantly, think of what I want and achieve out of my limited time on earth.

Only halfway through the book but the following struck me deeply while I was reading it on the train this morning:

“Dreaming is very pleasant as long as you are not forced to put your dreams into practice. That way, we avoid all the risks, frustrations and difficulties, and when we are old, we can always blame other people – preferably our parents, our spouses or our children – for our failure to realize our dreams.”

Well-said. Succinct. Hit the bull’s eyes.

How often have we lamented that there’s nothing more we can do? That fate brought us to who, what and where we are today? Are we so sure of that?

We are active agents of our life, with much more freedom than we think (or made ourselves believe) we have.

A lazy Saturday in pictures

Brunch was at Kuay Tiaow Reau Phra Nakhon near Victory Monument, famous for its 9B a bowl of noodles. Each serving is small, as can be seen when compared to the spoon. I took about 5 mouthfuls to finish a bowl, while mr;p claimed to gulp everything down in 2 (because he has a big mouth).

Twenty minutes later, we wolfed down 11 bowls of noodles, 1 bowl of fried wantons and 1 bowl of fried pig skins, a total of 13 bowls altogether.

After running some errand in Old Bangkok, we traipsed to Phra Ahthit Road and discovered a old-style cafe, The Gingerbread House.

Which better end to sum up a lazy afternoon than a glass of iced coffee and a slice of tiramisu cake?

Returning to downtown, we spotted a Thai schoolboy scribbling the Chinese words of ‘I love you’ with a paintbrush on a designated graffiti wall in Bangkok Art and Cultural Centre.

Finally, it was my turn to inscribe my name and signature logo on a board filled with Thai crayon scribblings.

3 more days to the weekend!

chest woes

I remembered a few years back when Piggy, Fish and I were in Bangkok, we encountered an amusing scene in a Planet Hollywood store in Siam Square. A Singaporean gal (distinguished by the accent, of course!) asked to try a t-shirt in ‘S’ size. The store personnel, a young chap, gave her a quick eye-over and said in a deadpan voice, “Miss, S is too small for you.” Meanwhile, Piggy was trying to control his laughter and gave me the did-you-hear-that look. Whoever said the Thais are polite people probably forgot that they can be brutally honest at times.

Now, I’m at the receiving end of such frank assessments. Today, while indulging in my favourite post-lunch activity, i.e. walking around the makeshift stores in the market and along the roadside, I spotted a particular stall with a pretty good selection of women’s clothes. I stopped in my tracks,  flicked through the rack and pulled out a chic pink top to enquire for sizes.

The owner shook her head and said, “Too small for you.”

Unfazed, I browsed again and picked out another seemingly chic top.

“No. Your chest is big.”

Undaunted, I forged on and selected the third top. A seemingly loose, white blouse.

She took over the top and stretched it across my chest. Unapologetically, she said,”It doesn’t even cover your chest fully. Too tight.”

Crestfallen, I gave up. At least she had the good sense to tell me honestly that her clothes didn’t fit me. Some other vendor might have persuaded me to buy their XXS-sized clothings.

On a similar note, shopping for bras can be frustrating at times.  Because the stingy me  still refuse to give in to bra names like Triumph, I try to hunt for bras in local markets. But alas, local market bras are also tailored to meet local breasts, that means, someone with a big frame like yours truly isn’t going to get her bra kick at roadside stores.

Many times, I saw some cute and cheap bras which  I wanted to add to my possession. I asked, “Do you have this design in 3x-x?” Very often, the reply would be “Sorry, we only have 34A.” Or was it 32A?

Sigh. Whenever I am very disheartened by my big chest, I would drag mr;p to the bras department, point to a maximiser bra and claim, “Now, Thai boy, you have been deceived by many Thai girls. You know why it’s called wonder bra? Because it makes mosquito bites look like perky balls.”

P.S. The post was written in disappointment as I couldn’t find clothes that fit me today. No offence to breasts of any sizes.

i love to eat, not cook

Living independently, I have come to understand why Mummy always asked what we would like to have for dinner and complained if we failed to indicate any preferences. It is quite a chore to plan the daily dinner menu to cater to everyone’s tastes, but luckily, my entire brood is easy-going. At the same time, I also realise that I am not cut out to be a domestic goddess. I can cope with cooking a meal or two on weekends, but anything more than that, I am probably going to tear my hair out. Right now, whenever I take the initiative to whip up a meal, mr;p still has to show me how to slice meat and vegetables in a better manner or hover around to guide me the steps of cooking a dish. Nonetheless, I am slowly learning how to cook to save myself.

Fried rice with Chinese sausage, my current favourite.