New Year's Peeve

Do we really want to get it right?

- Author, Home

As with all end of the year's toasts, most of us, could at least recall one party that some goon (probably fueled with a lot of rocket fuel, no pun) proposed a toast to the upcoming year and another chance to get it right (again). But is the obsession of doing it again, trying it out another time, your second chance... all that significant to waste another year to doing it "right"?

What is right anyhow by anyone's term?

How about just giving it all right to what you're doing right now? I look back at 2008 and it feels like one heck of a food processor ride. A little bit of everything thrown in and the whipping button gets pressed hard. You see that cloud of mess jumps frantically up and down the glass jug and then only to find out once the top is opened, the most wonderful, glorious smell welcomes your nose. And when you mix it with some soda water, it actually tastes damn good!

At least that was what I experienced when I made my own home-brewed lychee lemongrass and lime concoction. Now, do I want to do it right again? Would I be able to seriously replicate the same formula, even if I measure things to the dime (I didn't the first time, in case you are curious).

I only toast with a real pipe of champagne, but here I'll make an exception.

Get out there and get yourself a decent glass, and toast to your just doing it right, no matter what right means. At the end of it all, we really do reap the most from being just honest, getting it "right", mistakes and all.

Have a fantastic one and the days to come!

The Eve Of The Eve Of The Old Year

Berengsek!

- Identity protected, Ubud

Finally, I've finished updated my "in retrospect" from our trip to Ubud. Now, not wanting to enter into a new year still talking about the old, I invite you to share my small peep into a large world tuck not too far away (depending on your current location).

I hope you enjoy it as much as I did, and I sure did!

Peering Up The Lens

Courage consists in the power of self-recovery.

- Ralph Waldo Emerson, USA

Now, that was a tad too serious but on a more sombre mode, I am feeling a step ahead in recovering from my post-paradise withdrawal case.

I know, it's almost as tragic as Di Carpio and Winslet's potrayal of an undying love for something so unforgettable. But I think I may be less dramatic. No boy sinking into the depth of oblivion, no voluptuous bird on a sorry looking plank, and definitely no ocean fancy gems.

Thank goodness for that sabilulungan CD!

The real deal was that I got up, creaky bones and all that out of bed to two furry little ones that had faithfully left a few nice brown logs on the green carpet in the yard. Ever capable of making a stinky situation into one of a sincere offering, I accepted their goodwill and showered them with lots of morning hugs and greetings. Off they (the furry ones, not the logs) flying into the house, while I dutifully took happiness in cleaning up the place. It actually felt pretty good, kind of like possessing the simple power of changing a mess into a pristine display of cleanliness.

After a hearty simple breakfast, it was a full on power workout to open the sweat pores. Hey, time to kick the bad juice out, like how you would of an old lemon! Then it's a "He Man" moment when I was being bestowed the power of vacuum might that I danced through the dusty lanes of the walk-in wardrobe, the rooms, the hall, and the kitchen. Tommy went berserk as usual, Chewy just hung around me. I was in heaven, a trance, almost kecak-like.

The best thing I have found on returning home is realising how much there is to do and see, yet. When we returned from Beijing, I was brimming with pride of my ancestral land, I turned into a Mandarin language sponge, soaking it all in, and then Bali. To be precise, as I would be sharing in detail in my previous Bali entries, it was Ubud that captured and changed me. Outside of Ubud seemed too much like Phuket, in my own humble observation.

But Ubud got my mind thinking about a lot of things. About a lost culture in my own land, about where it all began, about how the smiles are so simple to come even if the people got so little from the dark looming clouds of corruption at the highest. Listen carefully and you will hear that each song, similar at first hear that it may be, actually share very individual messages that you can decipher, digest, and reflect on.

I am just glad that I came back richer.

Recovering Is Hard To Do...

Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in a holiday humour, and like enough to consent.

- William Shakespeare, England

Already second day back and I am conniving on a plan to go back to Ubud, or at least in my head. I do not know what is affecting me this much but I am definitely experiencing big time withdrawal syndrome. I am playing my gamelan sabilulungan CD over and over, youtubing kecak dances, and just... plainly missing the easygoing spirit I found in Ubud.

Yes, I am behaving like a brat and luckily my lovely man is easing the crash back to reality with so much patience and love. Home cooked dinner, a sink-load of dishes being cleaned up miraculously (no, it took someone to do it and it's not me), lots of gentle hugs (at the moment, below the thorax as my shoulders are still burning!).

Unfortunately, I still am not having nice slumbers lost amidst the chirping of my resident gecko in Villa 25. Perhaps the subtle, subconscious worries of the modern city are flowing beneath the calm rest-up facade I brought back from my holidays.

I have never encountered this before. I am usually, the type that is completely insanely gung-ho about going away on a break and then all recharged, looking back to returning to reality and getting spent, then heading out to my next isolated getaway.

Maybe the spirits of the island have entranced my being!

I am possessed! I am possessed!

And it feels... actually good.

I have to go now, my CD is getting stuck in my player. I think it's going to die (no!).

Does The Reality Ring That Loudly?

Groan...

- Author, Home

The author wishes to apologise for a mayhem display of thought on blog (?). Brains are fried (literally) from a last minute pool dip that resulted in "honey, I think it's all right, the clouds are out and I don't think I am going to burn" look (pay back!).

Luckily my lovely sweet man has looked after the loads of laundry, laid out a lovely brunch (my favourite of steamed chook with noodles) plus picked up the dogs!

In the mean time, I am limited by action since I have  to walk around the house carrying the slimy slug look, courtesy of slathering tonnes of post-sun cooling gel on my tan (burn).

When I regain my movement (no skin creaks when I fold my arms), I will load up on Ubud.

It's fantastic! (ouch... arms put down).

Goodbye As A Prelude To Another Hello?

Every goodbye is the birth of a memory.

- Dutch proverb, Netherlands

Just finishing off breakfast overlooking the majestic Ayung Valley. One thing baffled me though... why would some people here like to roll out of their beds and meander up to our breakfast deck in their boxers? Note: Pink with Balinese motif, one hole detected on right buttock cheek.

Another cup of Balinese coffee (strong) please.

It's a wonderful morning, a bit sad as I don't know when I'll return but I sure hope I'll be back together with the love of my life. Time for one last dip in the villa's pool before we make our way to the airport. More soon when we land at home.

Happy Boxing Day!

Speaking A New Language?

Nature hides her secrets because of her essential loftiness, but not by means of ruse.

- Albert Einstein, Germany

Never quite had a Christmas eve as such last night but we ended a pilgrimage that began with a long drive straight to South for Pura Luhur Uluwatu. Had a simple toes in the hot sand lunch of grilled garoupa and king prawns, the freshest kangkung I had in a long time, and soaking in the many events of 2008 in front of Pura Luhur Tanah Lot at sunset.

We came home to crack open a bottle of Merlot from the Naked Grange (Yarra Valley) at our villa's pool. Pure darkness enveloped our surrounding with a fine blanket of mist breaking the humid heat of the day. A lone umang-umang did the dance of the firefly by the jungle as we sat amongst our simple candle lit dinner.

Behind us an invisible orchestra of monyet loudly completed their chatter of the day.

In the short distant background, our resident gecko croaked his melody.

We looked up and it was a clear night. I saw my 3-joint stars.

Merry Christmas to one and all. Love from Ubud.

Waking Up From A Hypnotic Dream

Kecak, kecak... oonp, oonp!

- Futile attempts from us to be world class acts, Ubud (after much wine)

I got up to a nice warm hug this morning. With my loving half soaking up the early rays (and I was succumbing again to the white cotton mass within the confines of a traditional kelambu, another hour whiled away.

This is after breakfast at the treehouse looking restaurant (don't like calling it that but the hotel does, as I think this takes away the "Mowgli" feel as I tuck into my fruits medley while daydreaming away at the temples sites in front of me) and I am at the tail end of the enchanting opium of a kecak performance last night at Puri Saha Sari, Kota Ubud.

Overall, we took to spend a day over at the kota, stopping for a "Bintang" refreshment and watching the town passed us by. The only aggressive moment was when we edged ourselves into a sea of heads at Ibu Oka's babu guling joint. Cheap, local and completely aromatically guaranteed to knock you off your sandals. This was a rattan plate, lined with a small piece of banana leaf, and topped over with a generous helping of steamed rice, herbs, chopped vegetables, slivers of succulent suckling pig meat and some fried goblets, and ended with a piece of that crackle of its skin. We took to mainly Sewata Street, Hanoman Street (named after the Monkey God) and also the Monkey Forest Street (where I had to run away from an alpha that thought the gamelan improvised musical instrument I bought in a bag was his banana ration for the day).

Besides taking a peaceful stop at the Puri Ubud, the old palace, we decided to stay on for a local Balinese and milk bath opportunity. This was contemplated after another round of refreshments by the padi field.

All I have to say is this... How in the world did those little Balinese lasses become so strong as they kneaded your tired muscles? I was almost afraid to think if I pissed them off!

This took us to time to get to the Padang Tegal, for the climax of the night. I will write again about the performance. It's time to go out for a drive on the South and West parts of the island.

Uluwatu, Jimbaran, and a sunset at Tanah Lot await.

Love from day 3, here at the Ubud Hanging Gardens

Retrospectively speaking...

Could it be possible that one listens to the Ramayana a thousand times yet only hear it for the first with your eyes? You most definitely can. It was enthralling and magical. I had never seen anything remotely like it, every move and glance, every character was honed to perfection and you found yourself swept away by a wave of spiritual transcending.

The beginning was a shadowy cover of smoke from the central tree of burning lamps. By this hour, the eyes beseeched any form of light to make sense of the darkness. Setting up my camera and tripod, I told myself to not get too immersed in the gears that I be silly enough to let the whole show passed  by me. At 7:30pm sharp, the chattering mimicking of monkeys started (hence, kecak) announced the entering of the troupe. Men, cladded in sarong came in via the staircase leading into what looked to me as an old temple. They swayed their arms upwards, continuing in that mind numbing chant and formed a circle sitting down. I noticed there were two seniors with an exceptional possession of tone. They alternated between themselves to start the different verses of chants, all the time transforming the whole open stage into a real jungle. Different characters from the epic came out, and not a single word (mostly). If you can ignored the occasional nasty white flash from the cameras, you almost can believe you were peeping into the heartbreaking search of Rama for his beloved Sita. My favourite part was when the good guy, Hanuman came out. This actor was practically cladded in white, but boy, could he do a hard core shriek! He even danced around his feeble monkeys, doing a bit of a pirouet, his lowly slaves all waving their arms up to validate his numero uno status wildly, teeth all baring. I was so loving this moment!

In the end, good triumphed over evil, and then the madness started. When I thought I could pack up and head out for a drink, after all, getting all entranced for two and a half hours was commitment, one man suddenly galloped into the centre stage. Yes, he galloped full on with a kuda kepang look-alike, sort of what you would find on a road kill (flattened) version of a mythical horse, bells and whistles together. Now, not that this was anything to get seriously hoo-haa about if not for what was in the centre stage.

The mother of all camp fire. Coconut husks, dried, kerosene. Matches. You get it.

Now, magnified the effect by ten times because Yours truly was silly enough to grab a front row seat.

That horsey guy was, well... not horsing around. He danced around in circles, winding up a frenzy of dust, fishing our curiosity by the second, we wondered "what was he going to do?" in loud amazed silence.

Then with a gust of surprise, he kicked the damned fire. Husks and all, came flying in the air amidst shrieks (not Hanuman this time I'm afraid) and of course the only thing that rang in my head was "if your pictures aren't good enough, you're not close enough" by Robert Capa.

Great wisdom from a great legend, yeah, and that's before he got too close to a mine, and got killed in Indochina!

Of course I did the reflex. I ran back!

Now I did brave myself to approach the subject of study and took some shots in the craze of the horsey man speeding up his trance. Looking back at the shots, I thought I was composing more of my own terror. The horse man didn't stop, he continued kicking up the fire again.

All's well in the end when the burning ambers died and some of his mates, comical as it seemed, orchestrated (perhaps) to the point to "catch" him. Horse man showed some attempt of "fleeing" his captors as the holy man came out to cast away the spirits that possessed him. So much for the trip back to Texax, yee-haw!

And there he was. Sitting sadly on the ground as his mates all left the stage. I thought by now, it was a political move to squeeze some tips from the audience and his blackened soles did most of the story-telling. Of course we were hugely impressed with this display of bravado and tips indeed we handed over. I guessed his mates at backstage were keeping their fingers crossed. The future of the night's reaping was resting on one man's shoulders, or should I say soles?

It was worth the stay out for this one. Will most likely to grab the next opportunity to watch it again. It was difficult having to decide (given our stay was short, we didn't have the luxury of checking out two separate performances) between the kecak and the barong. Just another excuse to return to Bali!

Carpe Diem

A happy life is one which is in accordance with its own nature.

- Seneca, Rome

Woke up this morning to a friendly gecko of a personal butler. He bade me a good night as an introduction last night and proven his worth. Dawn broke to a furious ochestra of competing cockerels as I walked into the villa's pool. The heavy humidity in the air sent off a cloud of mist off from the edge of the pool as I laze in casual laps. The mist almost looked like it was carrying spiritual wishes for a day of adventure ahead.

I was lying high above the Ayung Valley, and right here, on my pavillion's pondok, I was brought back to the morning of my childhood that I had taken for granted, but never forgotten.

Got to start my track down into the Ayung River, will write some more soon. Need to make a note to myself to get a travel IdeaPad next time!

Love, day 2 from Ubud Hanging Gardens.

Retrospectively speaking...

We got up for a short hike down at the Ayung River, and as I thought about how easy everything seemed to work in unison here. Was the secret to eternal happiness buried amongst these piles of leaves and flowers, shrouded by the morning mist as we listened intently to the humming of the jungle. Up above us, swallows flew in high numbers, and it was the perfect moment to just do... absolutely nothing.

Of course being silly city people, we did exactly the opposite. My lovely man hiked over the little bamboo bridge and caught another trail into the jungle. Yours truly decided the river was too tempting to jump in but with her camera gears, might seemed to be too lofty an idea. So she settled to shooting it instead.

By the time it took us to hike back, I was famished. Prancing around like a testosterone-induced bull, I tore into the best two-seater table overlooking the Ayung Valley, with the Pura Penataran Dalem Segara temple overlooking from the opposite hill. The morning fare was mediocre to be honest. I didn't think the honeymooners are here for the food. This place made it easy to coddle the potion of love in your bosoms while you get a back rub from your loveliest. It did feel like a romantic getaway without the fake, plastic feel of manufactured L.O.V.E. in a bottle. Get it?

We made our way to Kota Ubud, the town centre that consisted a heady brew of traffic, tourists, stalls, music, own temples and palaces, and your ever present "taxi!" peddlers hollering at you. We took our hotel's shuttle bus and this was a hell ride of 30 minutes through up and down hill roads. It was amazing we (or our bus) didn't kill anything along the way. At one point, I thought we were plunging towards the open padi fields, sending the helpless (and irritated) village ducks a-flying. Thankfully that was purely kept within the horror chambers of my imagination. These Balinese people can drive!

A visit to Kota Ubud would not be complete without sampling the infamous babi guling and at Ibu Oka's we did. It was as popular as described, just let your nose took over the hunt. Imitation is the best compliment but do not try to think you can go fast and forfeit the wait by going to others. It's Ibu Oka's or nothing.

After a hot afternoon of grub and coke (the drink, silly), we meandered our way down the roads and did the usual beer stops, bargaining (got some cool traditional musical instruments that formed the gamelan) and even braved a local "pijat". Not quite your temple of heavenly respite from the hot sun, no water running through a gentle stream, no feet wash, just hard core, communist-styled pounding on the flesh. When my tiny masseuse punched (literally) my sole, I thought all of my metatarsus had disintegrated forever. Of course I was being offered the complimentary "you want more strong?" that was rapidly answered with a bevy of chorused out "no!" from the both of us. Yes, these ladies can make even a grown up man cry. It was all fun, seriously. For a good bargain, we even got to take a flower bath!

Emerging fresh from the beer by the padi field and the flesh grinder, we gingerly walked down the Monkey Forest Road. And it was... the monkey forest! One bugger tried to swaddle off my bag of toys but you got to show them who was the boss by "emanating" smells of leadership. Was any MBA class done this way?

By now, it was time to make our way past the monkey forest up to Hanuman Road which we went for our kecak performance, fire trance included. I had written more in the subsequent entry. This is one thing you got to see it to be hypnotized by it.

Home Of The Spirits

We live only to discover beauty. All else is a form of waiting.

- Kahlil Gibran, Lebanon

Incredible. Lush. Fertile. Absolutely bound to knock your sarong off. Will write more, got to go and take an evening dive in my own villa's infinity pool and get lost at the panoramic jungle oblivion.

Love from Ubud, day 1

Retrospectively speaking...

It was an all right flight as I am never patient enough to endure anything within the confines of a plane's seat, but I have enough enthusiasm for travel that spans as far as eternal condemnation of a desert. But hell I was not to face as our little friendly pick-up at the airport ushered us into our mini van. Fresh towels and cold bottled water, with a wilting frangipani flower thrown in for effect. Oscar deserving.

Before we left the airport's sardine-packed parking lot, I noticed a sign board asking for nobody to piss on the lot. Charming. Funny. I already like this adventure!

Making our way through the busy Denpasar area, we came upon immediately gigantic sculptures of mythological characters (bigger than Ben Hur) of the Ramayana, and another of a mythical warrior going about his rounds of WWF with a giant serpent for the holy water. It was at your face, strategically gobsmacked in the middle of the town's busy Kuta roundabout. With noisy traffic kicking up a dusty trail and our little van meshed in between, it felt like a totally wild run in between a circle of cock fights. Adrenaline pumping stuff this is (in Yoga style... see, humour brewing!).

As we made our way up North, we passed by idyllic cute roads, or lanes seem more an apt description. Being in Ubud meant that our eyes were glued to the sceneries outside. We probably looked like ferrets on the watch, turning out heads right and left incessantly to look at lanes of traders, exhibiting their trade of stone carving, wood carving, (our driver claimed that his grandfather was the undisputed champion in this field... yeah sure, if we get a 120% price decrease on it, does it count?), canvas painting (which we stopped over at a koperasi and bought home a wall-sized original abstract by I Putu Ardika, an upcoming artist based in Denpasar), and the initial glow, on the contrary, only became warmer as we seized upon an opening of the roads to Mother Nature as an artist. Yards expanding to hint at horizons, lush green padi fields beckoned us ahead. By now, a light drizzle had set down and our tummies grumbling like thunder. Of course we tried to get (convinced) our driver to take us to sample local food (read: not touristy menu) and after much debate (I think he wanted to take us to see his grandfather's work instead), we asked him to take us straight to the Ubud Hanging Gardens. We were actually situated in Payangan, off Kota Ubud. I would never get tired of the padi fields. The cool late afternoon air filled my mind with romantic notion of a private time away from the world. Stress be gone!

And indeed we were not disappointed. The villa was adequately sized for a couple, with its outside pavillion or pondok and wooden deck that led to an outside shower (I mean, wasn't the inside one with its huge display of the melur petals enough? Are you kidding!) however, the lap pool, heated at a constant 29 degrees Celsius (we are in the highlands after all...) was the killer attraction. With only one neighbouring villa and none of the other side, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. Cheesy I know, but exactly the point.

And Before I Go Leaving On Jet Plane...

Next year we take back our decade.

- Vijay, Home

It has come to our sense again that the end of the year is near. In fact, by tomorrow as I officially switch off my to-do's temporarily to take refuge in Ubud, it is "the end of 2008" for me. Time to reflect and project for 2009?

What do I wish for myself in the coming year?

That I embark on the building of a new foundation. To live my next decade in great fulfillment. Find honesty in my day's work. Spend my 4am for something of a worthy cause. Carve out my oxygen into physical presence (refer previous blog entries if confused). The thinking is all done, the hardware and software are in place. The plan is set, and 2009 sees the setting up in roaring speed. Targets are set, interfacing are thought out properly.

I already can't wait for 2010!

And I wish you the same. Love, health, faith, and prosperity in all honesty.

They Don't Come Bigger Than This!

Tommy, no... (continues rubbing his bottom on the carpet).

- Author, Home

It amazes me to see how far things in life have gone within this year. As we all come to another closing of another year, I did what most would do - look back, reflect, be thrilled, be shocked... or to just open our eyes.

Right now, my little one, Chewy is lying down comfortably on my lap while I write this. The bigger one, Tommy (by age, not size) is strutting around in the living room, definitely up to some mischief. I can never feel happy enough having these two dogs in my life. They simply make the most tiring of days (such as today) seems so much more pleasant. They easily make some crude tiring old boss of yours who stole your overseas job posting seems less significant. They can definitely make me miss them immensely, such as tomorrow when I drop them off at the local puppy cottage for boarding before we take our yearly strictly no business call holiday. I am supposed to be going to Ubud to not think about things but I am suspecting that this is going to be a Herculean joke on myself. I think I will even assume the idyllic peaceful setting of the jungles will help my mind to think clearer? Think, think, think...

I need to rest, it's been a long day recovering from a nice evening hosting friends over, cooking and devouring wine, looking through albums and then waking up to two energetic dogs, getting over the flu-ish feeling in your nose, babysitting 4 kids, driving into high traffic town areas, heading to the gadget bee hive in the city and getting back here, eyes fused with lead and refusing to open. I think I will have to sketch out my story line tomorrow. The competition, I remember. And there is another one, I have to develop the shortlisted shots, but that means I have to shortlist them first.

Like they always say, live to die another day.

The Times Ahead

May you live in interesting times.

- Some Chinese, China (?)

I remembered reading once somewhere that it was said, heroes are made during turbulent times.

Being third generation Chinese in modern Malaya (I still love to call it by that name), I look back at the cross-roads that my earlier ancestors took. From taking a chance to leave Mainland, which in those days could still mean a lot of things - good and bad. Good because we are mostly closer to the South, hence the weather and food could not have been too different, now that was if there was food available. The bad was much to do with leaving a comfortable social unit that most olden days Chinese grew accustomed to. You put your team first, yourself last. You depend on your team for identity, boundaries, rules. People were dying everywhere those days, China was brought down to her knees and struggled to carve her own identity in the new Century, post-Cultural Revolution, the Japanese War, the breaking and scattering of the different Chinese clans (again).

My own paternal grandfather made a decision to take off with my grandmother to East Malaysia. Many reasons were silenced when I asked as a child, only now to discover the dramatic background of his serving within the Bintang Tiga Regime. He was good with the typewriter and also the sewing machines. I still remembered the latter in my aunt's old house.

My father took me and the family back to West Malaysia during his active days in the oil palm industry. He has always told me that I'm like a wild Mustang. Run free, and run strong.

I slept over my own opportunities, my own cross-roads last night. I listened to my own voice this morning. Day 3 and I think I know clearly than what I know not last night. If I am going to get this one going, I have not the pleasure of worrying about how others might feel or perceive about my decisions. I owe nothing, and I am owed nothing.

It is without the gift of supernatural ability that a "hero" finds her strongest strength.

...Who's There?

Character is itself a fortune.

- Samuel Smiles, Scotland

When she knocks, open the door. So I was told. Ever since I began bringing to life my board's business plan, I have been lucky to have friends who gave away freely valuable advice to help me walk the way, albeit my own butterflies in the stomach. There is nothing to be gained by them yet we believe in sharing knowledge, giving unconditionally, that we receive in return. Friendship, trust, good karma.

There seems to be a non-stop churn of things to read up, understand, put into action, working on your own is a complete whirlpool of exhausting projects. It's easy to overwork yourself and we are just at the setting up stage! But as I have mentioned previously, the kind of focus that it gives you is second to none that you can find from a dull, well paying 9-5 rat race plough. My mind is constantly projecting and ticking off things to be done, prioritising my schedule. My body is pushing myself to get out there, network and connect, share and receive. My heart tells me to never give up.

To give the cherry as a freebie, my worst case scenario is actually a lovely Plan B!

Running your own freelance business is damn hard stuff but it's so worth it. If a nervous bee like me can keep the rhythm going, you bet you can hack it too! If you ever need any encouragement, just learn to filter the white noise and keep telling yourself that when you hear that knock, yes, you do take up risk by opening it but it's contained, it's calculated and in the end, at least you don't live your life by looking back and wondering "what if?".

Just when I thought I'll be going Hans Solo, I've been hooked up to meet some graphic design firms that are looking to hire. I'm very blessed to be able (and by that I mean prudent financial planning) to afford to not be coerced to reject a job because it pays junior rates. The experience and exposure are invaluable. At the end, it isn't the end, it's the means to an end that I am intending to keep redefining along the way.

Open it. Don't wait for the wolf to huff and puff it away. Better face it up right, maybe that's the reason that dad insisted I put a baseball bat in my car. Be prepared in any situation and make the best, even out of your worst case scenario.

Guts Of Glory!

Feel the fear and do it anyway.

- Susan Jeffers, LA

I thought I'll be good today and ordered a healthy leafy plate of greens amassing over chicken slices, avocado, cranberries and roasted turkey bacon. After 10 forceful forkful mouths, I couldn't push anything in anymore, and that was 4pm ago.

Right now I'm getting ready for dinner outside and main criteria is somewhere I can have a decent glass of wine to just chill my brains. I know that the "unplanned" plan does exist and in retrospect it works out the best, but I'm completely bowled over by an apparition-liked "ping" moment on what I will be working on after sussing out the answer to the "what's your tag?" question for 6 months. The worst and most discouraging criticism was "you'll find that this is a wrong cuppa when you're shelving it under the bridge" and in true form to myself, I went out to do exactly what they had cautioned me to not do, just to prove that guts of steel do take you that far.

I mean, really... how do you know if there is a bear in the cave? One way to find out.

And so I found myself finding out the good, the bad, and the ugly of freelancing. Suddenly my list noted 7 items to do to set up a private limited. I had two back-to-back pages of a mock of my business card. I had to review my cash standing to fire up the oven.

It's exhilarating to finally throw in all the spices, after the dozens of recipe books I've poured my money on, and to see the ambers of the coals cooking up the magic concoction. All is at stake, perfection makes me nauseous, and I'm feeling the fear of excitement.

I could just tell myself that I really want to be just doodling illustration on my Mac. Or I could start off from pro bono work to create references for bigger jobs in graphic design. I am officially not the owner of Adobe CS4 until this Saturday, I have yet to trade up to my iMac from MacBook Pro. But those are really small matters right? I am waiting for the first client to call back in case we can meet in between to form a win-win situation. She's a low budget marketeer, and I'm good on getting a useful corporate reference in return for quality design work.

Can one master Illustrator in a weekend?

Only one way to find out...

Good Afternoon From Vietnam

The virtue of the camera is not the power it has to transform the photographer into an artist, but the impulse it gives him to keep looking.

- Brooks Atkinson, USA

It was a nasty hot day in Hoi An, South Central Coast of Vietnam. Sleepy town by architecture, surprising underlying tone of hard bargaining vendors, lazy tourists, generous fruit sellers, newly weds taking studio shots by the river bank (don't even get me to begin on why but I guess different strokes for different folks, and by the way, they were dressed up to look like Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette), hidden gems of a local pho shop, and a really friendly (and happy) old sampan paddler making a fantastic poster boy - all a heady mix by the next few hours.

I was curious about the city's bestowed World Heritage title by UNESCO as a well-preserved example of a Southeast Asian trading port of the 15th-19th Century. It's a tad too sleepy for me but it's also closely similar to Beihai in Beijing, what not with its meandering river, small ancient shops spreading in a massive crossword puzzle layout, and the chirpy ringing of the bypassing cyclist. Just factor in the energy level down by a 10 notch.

What was an enthusiastic photographer carrying a bagful of expectations and gears looking out for her next composition? To be honest, I probably didn't quite live up to what my art expected of me. It was humbling. I arrived at Hoi An's barren communist-styled airport (imagine hangars masquerading as arrival / immigration halls) armed with an overriding confidence that I'll shoot some real National Geographic moments of tribal ladies, long winding stretches of green marshlands, come home with fantastic angles of limestone towers, locking in precious moments of sandy days in between those round half-cut watermelon looking fishing boats.

By noon time I was in a real slum panic cocktail of a mood. The light was too harsh, my throat was aching for some nice cool respite, my tummy was lambasting me for not tucking into that extra tempting bowl of pho. I still hadn't had my shot yet. You know the one that saved your entire day's work. Like all those long minutes sitting in the bus, enduring a really bad karaoke session by the local tour guide of broken English and half-baked attempts at hiding her Vietnamese accent? I wished she would give herself a break and just kept quiet. I did give her some tip because I was a sorry poppy that felt bad for her to have to molest that microphone to make a living... and realised that the one shot made it all worth it - for you.

This old man saw me from afar. I saw him and knew it was that shot. He gently paddled up close and I smiled from above the stone bridge. No words. We understood.

I look back at this shot and it wasn't the temple, it wasn't the kitten hiding inside the gifts' cabinet, it wasn't the extra bowl of pho I didn't have. This was my shot. You just never give up looking.

Because you just don't do it that way. That shot is always there.

The Mighty Sword Within A Pen

Write only if you cannot live without writing. Write only what you alone can write.

- Elie Wiesel, Romania

I was in Rome not because I was riding the craze of the pursuit of the Da Vinci Code. It was and still remains as one of the most magical, meaningful trips I've done in my life. I felt and experienced, smelled and tasted beyond the aroma, the romance, the energy professed by the travel sites.

Not that there was any inaccuracy in the sites' reports. However I found myself at loss of where to begin to write down how that city put a change into my life. I felt one yet lost amongst her history, her people, her architecture, her religion. Sitting now in my studio, turning my iPod wheel countless times yet to find a suitable tune to fill the afternoon (from my over 6,500 songs) and feeling perplexed by how much my two terriers can really sleep in a day. I still carry with me the luxurious burden of digesting Bertolucci's acclaimed work of China's last empire, spent a great part of this morning reading an account of that period written from the perspective of the last Empress Dowager (Anchee's work gave a less biased observation on this complex soul).

Maybe it takes a confused and slow day to revive the times we had in Rome two years ago. Being in the centre of where great history took place in altering the lives of the nobel and common, chokes me into being unable to turn my breathes into discernible words. I do not understand the reason on how I feel today but I do feel clearly confused! Quite oxymoronic. But I do think that these experiences enrich one's self and that itself, time cannot rob of you.

Rome is always special in my heart. Rome rises above her Julius Caesar, her Marcus Anthony, her monuments. Just as Beijing rises and lives beyond her empires. I think I may understand what it is I am feeling now.

The utter frankness of being vulnerable, open about a sadness I feel for a time long ago.

Not even the old Shanghai lounge music coming out of my iPod soothes the heavy heart of mine. Perhaps I am just an emotional creature that yearns for the romanticism of a fallen empire, forgetting it has opened up a new era that brings more glitter and prosperity. Maybe my old soul just wouldn't allow me to forget.

What seems to be of the long gone dead, lives on.

I Found It!

I never really care about shoes, until they made boots.

- Author, Home

Vivien is happily cuddly.

Vivien loves her life.

Vivien started her evening sharing a bottle of Shiraz Cabernet while discussing interior designs' finishings.

Vivien ended dinner at her favourite local izakaya with a neat bottle of sake.

Vivien came home to her dogs' "operation destruction in the yard" and expedited time-out punishment.

Vivien got her hands on a copy of Bertolucci's The Last Emperor.

Found And Discovered

Sometimes you walk like an angel

Sometimes you walk like a man

Sometimes you crawl like a baby

Makes me forget who I am

Have you ever been held before

Like honey to the bee

I've never been held before

Like you hold me

You make me feel like a river

Like a water overflow

Want to shout it out from the mountain

Want to sing it on the radio

I'll sell my soul like a sinner

If it means you'll never go

I think the sun is finally rising

It's burning down because I miss you

I'm going to walk right through the fires

'Cos all I want to do is kiss you

Rain falls, won't wash this away

I'll build a stoneway to make you stay

- Kasey Chambers, Australia

We woke up this morning to go for a long run. The dawn air broke into our lungs with a clean wash of yesterday's bore. No words, just steady foot in front of another until we completed the loop up the hill home. You live to learn that no matter how many things you get thrown at, some things remain unchanged - like how you feel for each other. How sometimes a maybe high school dedication of a song to one another, watching a cheesy Bollywood movie brings secret jokes that only both of you understand, and then there is the time when you realise just how much you miss each other when you are back in each other's arms...