Hitting The Stables @ Month-end

Arm End House, Opossum Bay - Tasmania

After two blessed days of continuous rain, the world awoke fresh as if a pair of loving arms had gently bathed it in the dews of the heavens. Opaque streaks of rays cut through the misty mountains, lending a nostalgic sense to the mind when one reminisces a night we bade farewell only a few hours ago.

It had been one that the crickets sang loud in a frenzy mating ritual. Each male bidding his best to outdo the other while the females huddled amongst their bed of leaves, perhaps giggling like shy lasses at the futile silliness but charming nonetheless, effort to court their passion and favour. In the close distance, a baroque of frogs croaked harmoniously in a delicious, chocolate thick froth punctuated by an ominous, sole mournful boom by what I would imagine as the toad that wished he was born as one of his sinewy cousins.

Was it one of those times in life that you saw the world through the old films? When every blackest black and the whitest white shone in the interrupted-bulb-blown-insect screen that saw the days of Chaplin and an odd Frankenstein roll. When your dogs laid lazily on your carpet, rubbing their faces reflecting the heaviness of an afternoon filled too much with the steaming rice and chicken stewed in red dates and "elephant-eared" fungus. Of course, the lunch was consumed by us, lying sprawled in star form on the same carpet, next to our loyal furry companions that would have sat next to us, imploring such lunch, with their kibbles done in their tummies long a couple of hours ago.

This is one of those odd days when the local tax office closes for its financial year and the week edges grudgingly towards December. It's the "shutting off the doors" to usher an early excuse to begin the yuletide. One of those days which you dream away no matter how chaotic the fallen heroes, the ravaging fights in between that old couple again like clockwork every day, the garbage man coming and going, the paper boy every morning, how your dogs howled off after the scurrying squirrel, and your beeping reminder on your electronics.

I'll write perhaps, another day, about the culture we live in here because we got so comfortable existing in a hypocritical shadow dance of masks, when happiness and frustration mix so  potently in a convoluted brew, when it is actually viewed as more important to put up a front of unity than to face your fear of discord. Empty words to fill the air and suck out the air of honesty. Pretense and criss-crossing of conversations in a room. Harsh reprimands and tempers on the loose.

Sometimes in all these, it's not too hard to close the door and dream away about a future that rings in the peace of a world folding out somewhere out there.

Hello World!

The greatest thing about love is it will always be immensely infinite. We see you baby, welcome to our realm, little one!

Our little tiger has decided to join in our fun from Turkey and boy did we rock up some adventures! Talk about hitting the ground running early...

Now hubby can understand why I got teary from just watching the Maori's Haka on the tube. Yes, strange things happen, including when you instinctively growl at your Obs-gyn for keeping you in the waiting room for one minute too long *hee!*

Look Mama, I'm doing a "Victory" sign!

Pitstop Check: I Haven't Forgotten About Us!

courtesy of Beingfive

It's been a while since the last pineapple tart was digested in my tummy in line with the Diwali spirit for every excuse under the sun to rejoice, rejuvenate the digestive tract's bottomless ability to house yet another (gasp!) serving of chicken curry, and to indulge in the requisite of post-lunch opium-proportioned snooze hour.

Truth is, we've been much more diligent in our maintenance of steady consumption of all things good and tasty. In fact, we've been up to more than mere feasting. With FIL admitted in the National Heart Institute for an immediate triple bypass operation, we are at today, very thankful for the amazing feat of display by Doktor Rais and his team. What was a routine angiography turned out to be a confirmed detection of arterial blockage that had required urgent intervention. Of course there was the odd joke of taking Old Man out to Sentul Curry House for his inaugural post-op roti canai but at the moment, he's diligently doing his physiotherapy and being a real inspiration to all of us young and old. The wound was not an easy sight even for the healthy and we can only imagine the emotions that went behind his Berlin Wall of expression.

But the silver lining is looming bright despite the harrowing downpour in KL's streets almost at a religious consistency every evening. We as a family are extremely grateful and I look forward to sharing some really "other" good news in the forthcoming entry.

Stay tune!

ps: The big move Down Under is underway and all things are happening in parallel and like anything we've encountered before in the past 18 months, it sure never happens one box at a time! I'm keeping zen although it's temptingly topsy turvy what not with all the exciting breath-taking moments turning up. Heck, I found even accidentally finding my iPhone had become an emotional reunion. Think!

Bye Bye Egypt!

Everybody say it together now... "Indiana Jones!" 

Once the sun hits the zenith, things begin to take on a cuckoo outlook 

Pyramid building inspection is a sticky hot job 

Merhaba from your Bedouin lass! 

Can I claim now that not only I've kissed a girl but a really old one too?

Little one came out of nowhere when we were stopping over one of the Greek Orthodox churches 

Our little "Van Cat" - what pretty eyes! 

The only lift to take you up to the hostel in Cairo - once it comes down, the pressure pushes all the mozzies out of their hiding joints like berserk hogs. As you can see I wasn't too thrilled waiting for the ride (again!) 

My attempt at putting my head into Sobek's descendant's Egyptian cotton mouth 

My Ah Lian's interpretation of a B&W model shot... probably the only time you will get to see this! 

Our housekeeper was upping the ante to really gun for his baksheesh - at least he earned it. The elephant finally copped it off!

That's the problem taking a 2-night cruise down the Nile. Plenty of saggy budgie smugglers onboard. This is my finger up in the a$$ shot. 

Okay, when you did pay attention to the scenery besides the saggy sunburnt bodies, it was pretty spectacular 

One of the more beautiful moments in Egypt 

Upper Egypt, Southern Empire

Final Dash Across The Yard

It was a hard wait, kind of a labour of love when you reach this final point and you think back about the last 18 months and perhaps an inkling of the next 18 months ahead... then you just pause and shake some sense into your already fuddy head to regroup and focus.

Crash landing wasn't really as serious a case as many a backpacker would want to lead you to think. I personally think it's quite over-rated really. I suppose I can relate to the dire need to dig into a good old bowl of home-cooked ramen but to wear that bewildered mask for the next 14 days back home? You got to be kidding me.

Fact is today is Day 7 post-getting-all-emotional-watching-the-landing-strip-from-the-shaky-aeroplane-camera. The way I had been eating my way through was quite indecent. Last count read the list as:

Claypot chicken rice

Fried keow teow (big YUM)

Steamed chicken rice (with the beansprouts and chilli, the works basically)

Soya milk (kurang manis)

My MIL's home cooked curries and dahl

All the Deepavali's dishes and sweets

"Wat Kai" Kon Loh Meen

Pork ribs stewed in preserved yellow bean sauce and wanton noodles

Wantons (of course!)

And my herbal chicken soup is brewing in the kitchen while I plot my next move to hunt down the best Bak Kut Teh, pork ribs Penang prawn noodles (contrary to what you may think, it actually works!), some lemon prawns on the sides...

This is just the beginning. Fact is coming home was just a simple magical transition along the great long road of life. We made friends in a day that felt like sharing a lifetime, we had tasted all the honka tonka, ponky wonky, some pukka tukka but coming home was - this time - that tad more special in a sense that we began appreciating the finer details. From picking up nuances in faces, streets, traffic and home, it almost felt like we had to go everywhere with our cameras once again (and we intend to). Speaking with families and friends did feel a bit like a public conference to promote world peace and demystify ill-formed conceptions regarding some of the countries that we had visited and others that we planned to (e.g. said in shrilled befuddled voice "why would you want to visit Pakistan?!" and an incredulous "but those Afghans and Iranians deserve it, right?!"). It can be tiring to walk the balance tight rope of neutrality given your first response is to close off the breathing channel of the said person and other potential naysayers that poo-paaed on your 'great journey' and accused you of showing off (gasp!).

Fact is returning home comes with it its own basket of emotions, happiness and snakes and vipers. But it sure felt darn good to spread eagle on your own bed and admit it, you know that feeling! You probably will get sick repeating that same story but it's nothing beyond some clever organisation of time and place to ensure you don't drive yourself crazy first sharing your moments of glory to a different audience every time before they start to remind you that you actually had repeated that one... no, it's the other one they are demanding for this time, and before you know it, some will actually try to hijack YOUR story and tell it as it was in THEIR interpretation and heavens forbid, start to tell you how it's suppose to be.

Ah, the joys of homecoming.

In between mashing my tongue on the blissful muddy mix of peanut butter and Nutella on my home brand white bread, I sit here wishing you another happy day.

Because it's plenty of it ahead. Our adventure has just begun and I invite you to jump on because this wagon is just refuelling!