About Vivien

Myla's First Stamp... Kia Ora!

2011-12-08T22:50:00.000+11:00

You would think that I came back from our family trip to Auckland all refreshed and ready to run up the mouse wheel, right?

Well, for starters, I found that my backyard was absolute carnage, I had six loads of washing to do, the house looked like it had never been vacuumed since shoulder pads went out of fashion, and the delivery guys handed over seven boxes of accumulated memories and purchases from our travel days to unpack.

On top of that I had bottles to wash (never ends!), a kitchen that still didn't clean itself, a bath tub that looked like an oil spill ransacked its edges, slugs to kill (raining non-stop in Sydney, these fellows were out in numbers), baby food to prepare, more reminders that I needed to get a new pedicure, and I so desperately needed another holiday soon!

Of course before any of that, I had to oblige grandparents and I know, I know... I heard you. So enjoy, here are the snapshots of Myla's first overseas holiday in the wonderful country of Aotearoa.

Early morning wait for the cab... something else caught her attention obviously.

Please only wake me up when the champagne breakfast is served, cheers!

Of course there were tears! They ran out of kiwi fruits!

Myla didn't look too impressed when she found out she had to go out on a date with these lads...

Myla doing what she does best... chilling in cuteness!

I wonder if all the dinosaurs disappeared because of the Big Bang....?

Those eyes, those eyes!

Our little gerbil donning the Barbarians' jersey... see the bicep lift?

Um.... should we have the lamb, the lamb, or..... the lamb?

Road touring is serious business... snooze catch up time.

Cuddle time with Teddy.

How Much Do You Love Your Watermelons?

2011-11-04T08:49:00.001+11:00

Food simply put, is an adored institution within our household. Something to be cherished and respected beyond simple fodder for hunger satiation. Between hubby and I, we do try to be creative and vow many a time, to use each page of the thick volumes of cook books that we have adorning our shelves, once in order to properly be worthy of their purchase.

A simple glance at our book shelves in the precariously hidden corner that we think visitors will barely notice given they aren't "eye-level" will dispose the truth of our staying true to the practice that the intention is always stronger than the actual action. It's true but a sad one. We both love to cook but it's usually grand castles foaming in wonderful airs of imagination that our fingers magically whip up sensational delicacies to tempt the Zen of the Soul. Salads are tossed up high flowering in mid air akin to leafy fireworks, roasts permeate the daily lives of our happy bellies and puffy little maids of souffle greet us every weekend loyally.

Was quite a nice dream while we are at it, wasn't it?

Anyway, we do cook with lots of love at that and somehow, much to our surprise, we have not poison each other nor anyone else that we consciously know of to date, and do manage to cook quite creatively out of the freshest ingredients that we get our hands on every day. One thing I love about my hubby is his tenacity to dig in his sturdy heels and make his way up in the brittle cold of winter to the farmers' market grocer (note: uphill walk) to procure something nourishing and varied to feed his wife and child at home. A twist to the cave man existence and a lot less hairy and lot more sexy!

Our little girl has develop an acute taste for adventure. Most days she would be the one hurrying my hand holding the magic spoon but you do get an off day such as today that has many album-worthy pursed lips and crinkled face looks that spell out "are you kidding me MOTHER?!"... oh well, pureed pear and banana porridge can only tempt so many percentage of the nation.

But one thing we do know, the taste of the forbidden fruit is always sweeter. Have a look...

My First Melbourne Cup

2011-11-01T08:54:00.003+11:00

The traditional day of excess and decadence in which the controversial use of animals for the love of human spectatorial love of sport merge in one solid moment on the gladiatorial grounds of 3200m.

My first Melbourne Cup 2011 and mama dressed me up in a lovely frock before we joined other mummies and babies at Auntie Geetha's MIL's gorgeous home to sip champagne and nibbles as well as partaking in a sweepstake that mama almost won to only see her horse (or was it mine?) to drop from a heady second place start storming off to an abysmal third and by the time the last curve turned, it was time to do the TAB common sight of raising your arm with the losing horse's ticket in hand and crushing it into a crinkled ball before tossing it out into oblivion. Of course mama was much classier than that... she kept that in my baby's book to remind me possibly some time in the future of my first foray into gambling... ah, the thought that counts!

But it was all about gathering in the spirit of fun and laughter and we bubs did a roar of a cry when made to pose in the beautiful house's drawing room. I mean, check the facts right? This wasn't just any beautiful homes in Mosman. It's the so-beautiful-that-it-does-a-triple-turn-taekwondo-flying-kick-bust-your-face-silly-knock-your-wits-scary beautiful with its plush green surrounding and glorious sun-filled room, we could not have had a more spectacular marquee to stand under on our heels (yes, we wore our heels, vain mummies that we were!).

It's a great Australian institution and I'm just thrilled that I got to spend it with my lovely mama (she looked gorgeous in her fascinator, I want to grow up fast just to be able to wear it like her, I want, I want!) and other mummies and baby friends of mine.

All images courtesy of Nele Verboven

Disruption - A Distraction Illusion?

2011-10-24T20:44:00.000+11:00

I know, I know, before I even begin, I can agree with you that:

1. Have no idea how I came up with that title;

2. Not sure if I manage to say what I think I want to say; and

3. All of the above.

It has been a long while since I got on with the business of:

1. Shooting noteworthy photographs (in the span of time since my daughter joins my little world and expands it immensely, I have discovered that I have taken 1 (read: one) non-baby photograph, and that is not even posted at all here...

2. Covering banal observations of the world around me; and

3. All of the above.

OMG.

Have I just committed myself to a repeating robot that is slowly but surely degenerating to the level of communicating in numerically led sentences?

Perhaps I have turned into an inward, self-fascinated mother / discoverer / fluctuating sugar level hungry homo sapien / sporadic sleep satisfied / deliriously in love with baby smiles blogger that used to have a career out of annoying locals around South Asia to North Asia, spanning across to the Centrals and back to the Middle East?

And after all that, I still found myself torn between upgrading to a spanking Nikon D3 or Canon 5D Mark II, or should we forward to adding an 's' and another 'I' if you are into that sort of drift. I am still blissfully ignorant in committing to a decision between Lightroom and Aperture. I was so out of touch that I forgot they don't even stock the boxes in-store anymore and I can get free 30-day trial online. Go Steve Jobs, R.I.P.!

All right I will confess - I did have coffee and wine today.

Anyway, it is one of those crazy weeks just when you sort out a plan, it is time to toss it out of the window again. One thing I learn about my motherhood is that when you think you have scraped the bottom of the barrel, you always amaze yourself that you never realise that depth of patience you have in you just seem to surface and stop you from running out of the house, hollering on top of both lungs in a fashion akin to an angry elephant shot on the ass with some painful red dart that hangs around with that annoying red feather ending...

And when I could not think beyond one day and am bravely putting one foot ahead of another like a bound captive making her way down the plank above shark-infested waters, I flick up the iPhone and am reminded again...

... of all the reasons that this is so damn worthwhile.

So which ale should I go for this round?

I love you mama, thank you for making my butter banana custard saute... YUM!

Oh the tummy? No worries, I did 400 crunches before breakfast this morning!

What My Daughter Taught Me

2011-10-09T22:51:00.001+11:00

It has been an exciting period for Myla and me as she is growing exceptionally fast each day. Every night brings forward another day of precious sharing with my little girl being big and generous with her smiles and plenty of vocalisation regarding her letting me be aware of each and every of her feeling and emotion.

What amazes me is the very consideration that this little being is strongly in tune with her wants and she unashamedly asks for what she deems as crucial for her well being, moment to moment, unrelentingly consistent and assured.

I read amongst my books that part of her communication development at this stage includes her working our how to relate using her face, body language and babble. It does not matter that she does not speak English yet, she expects herself to be perfectly understood. Her feelings can be clearly seen in her facial expressions and body language.

Also I was taught that until she is much older, maybe even as a preschooler, she does not know how to "fake it" - all emotions are pure.

That struck me as being the strongest validation of a child's trust in you.

Of course I think she is my perfect child. My "perfect" child does have her beautiful days of brilliant smiles, coos, and hugs. She, my "perfect" child has her episodes of inconsolable cries, her 5-minute ritual vent before being tucked to bed, her temperamental decision regarding bath time. My "perfect" Myla is always happy to welcome me after waking up, she cries for me when she dreams a shade too muddy for her liking. My "perfect" little baby loves the world around her, dives into every exploration with full passion. She is indeed, an extremely perfect example of living life as it was thrown at you once.

In the best, most full on, no depth untouched, degree.

As we grow into adults, somewhere along the years passing one another, we seem to have lost the finesse of communicating earnestly. We mask our feelings. We hide our intentions. We edit our words. We correct our thoughts. We deny our instincts. We resist living bravely. It is life lived as one big masquerade ball.

Between lovers, parent and child, boss and employee, in-laws and the Law, we all somehow got more comfortable working along the lines of blurriness, we preferred to walk on the path of the common even though it took us down the wrongly navigated direction.

A child, at this stage, incorruptible and valiant in her effort to be understood, taught me the critical talent of speaking your truth.

That itself, is courage in all nakedness, and all its brilliance shone above the discolouration that I had somehow, crawled myself out from, each and every time I look at her.

A Letter To My Grandparents

2011-10-08T23:14:00.001+11:00

This is what a good morning looks like!

We had our first road trip to Melbourne last week!

And I am mighty proud to say that I had done 2,300km in total cuteness and coolness. Played lots of "coo-coo" games with mama while papa was a hero behind the wheels. We stopped a few times on the way past the smaller coastal road and spent one night at Eden (half-way point on day one already!) and the next just off Wilsons Promontory before arriving in Melbourne, bringing in the sunshine.

I must say that we learned a lot more about how big this country can be. Although we didn't stop to spot any migrating whales, I was told they had calves as cute but a lot bigger than me, swimming with their mummies back to the colder waters. Mama named and fed two magpies, which we like to remember as "Max" and "Maddie" but I was totally blown away by how noisy the galahs, cockatoos and rozellas can be, yet none came close to the ferocious greediness of the parakeets when we put out the seeds for their brekkie. Papa reckoned he couldn't have found a better morning alarm with the bell birds although at first, we thought they gave off a weird shrill around the forests surrounding our cabin. Air was fresh, the food even better, and I was a real trouper once we reached Melbourne and stayed the first couple of nights at my Auntie Vinnu and Uncle David's home at Thornbury.

Getting Myla started on the dirt with super-sizing...

Myla and her papa, enjoying an arty moment there

Location: Cafe Comme

We had some super smacking dinner although I remembered I had to have an improvised bed to go to sleep on, hence I was really tired and gobbled up my dinner in no time. The daylight savings adjustment did little to upset me but I suspected it confused mama a little. We hung around a bit with Auntie Vinnu teaching (and reminding papa again) me a few of the old Tamil rhymes - plenty of fun but I found the little crab crawling game a bit too ticklish! We got along really well with Buddy, their adopted Kelpie cross Doberman and mama even successfully took him out for an energetic walk!

Oh yes, I took my first train ride too! The three of us took a real traditional family outing down town with papa showing off to his favourite girls some Melbourne haunts for the delights on the palate. We went to a really spanking Italian joint and thought it was a tad unfair that mama and papa devoured two baskets of those freshly baked olive bread while I had to settle with a bottle of milk! Anyway, I was happy that they made it up by taking me to a cafe for my first indulgence in the swanky cafe scene and I did feel quite adult sharing notes with papa about the gallery of paintings in-house. All these got me a bit tired and I decided to snuggle back to mama's arms for a snooze.

We took a nice walk towards the Federation Square and I could hear mama and papa laughing on about the funnier jokes of the day, and marveling at the wonderful mix of the classical and modern architecture that cut through the city's skyline. It's nice once a while that mama and papa get a bit of "non-baby" moments, don't you think? But not too much though, I miss them both and want to be in the action as much as possible!

Did you say Rudolph?

We went to visit Auntie Cath and Uncle Adam to see how they are doing with Lachie at Point Cook. I fell asleep during the drive but we had a whale of a day as I manage to squeeze out a big bag of poo once we arrived, haha! On this trip, I must say I kept mama very busy with the feeds and filling up the bags, fulfilling her suspicion of my being a high achiever in the department of emptying the bottles and filling up the nappies. Auntie Cath made a wonderful lunch but we were concerned that Uncle Adam pulled his back and he had to lie down next to Lachie on the floor... for a second I thought he was made to do tummy time too!

After another night of getting tucked into bed after a nice bath in Auntie Vinnu's big bath tub, mama and papa relaxed over a nicely (hot!) cooked chicken curry with the yoghurt thrown in and plenty of oiled rice (papa ate too much that night) before we had to say our goodbyes over roasty smells of freshly ground coffee at brekkie. We had to move over to Auntie Sonia and Uncle Dorian's place at Preston as there were earlier promised guests coming over at Thornbury. Yay, I got to play with Zai and Kavi, plus meeting another moggie, Ibra!

Did I say that they had a veggie garden which Auntie Sonia cooked plenty of yummy vegetarian food for us and mama took me out to play with two big chooks? I told mama that I want to have a garden just like that too. That night I slept very well as papa bathed me nicely and Zai gave her bedroom over to us. I loved to play with Zai because she's heaps of energetic bright fun. We went to the Melbourne Zoo and it was a very brave thing for the adults to do since it's school holidays. Mama conquered the mad queue on the way out to buy me my first singlet with an elephant mascot, I love you mama!

Over the two days, mama and papa again were spoilt with gourmet home cooked vegetarian meals and a picnic at that. Thrown into the picture were couple of good bottles shared amongst the adults but I suspected they hid the bacci ice cream from us kids! In the end, after many a nappy change and even more milk bottles, it was time to say farewell to them, but not without a promise to visit each other for annual camping trips. I love to see Zai and Kavi again because they are such cool friends.

On our way back we took the inland highway and stopped overnight at Yass. I was a perfect little girl and went to bed after a prompt shower. Yes, you read right. Since we booked last minute in this wonderful property surrounding a lake with noisy alpacas running in meadows of glistening green and pink cherry blossom trees, we got a room without a bath. So mama and papa decided to take me into the shower with them and you will be so proud to know that I wasn't scared when the water from the shower head lightly sprayed onto my cute little face. After getting changed into another wooly jumper, I joined mama and papa at the lounge to experience my first fire place. Wonderful canapes were served and the adults got a complimentary glass of Merlot from the winery nearby. Did you know one of the world's best known Riesling judge and cultivator is just a couple of kilometres away from us at the Helm's Winery? Heard mama and papa whispering that this will not be the last time we'll be coming back, oh I hope we get the spa suite next time because I really like to go swimming in the big bath!

By the next day, we drove home to unpack and relax. Mama was a super woman in cleaning up all the laundry, garden and even got me back into my routine while papa went grocery shopping to make sure our kitchen was well stocked up. I was already quite tired by the time papa picked up Tommy and Chewy at their dog resort stay. We laughed at their report card because apparently they made best mates with another Jack Russell Terrier cross, with lying in the sun their next favourite activity.

We had such a wonderful getaway and with so much happening, I really was in need to have a nice rest before the new week. So I got to sign off now, mama will be getting me up for a dream feed soon and I want to be a good girl and finish off my milk to go back to sleep again.

Love lots, Myla

My Little Angel

2011-09-25T16:26:00.000+10:00

She does a cute snow fairy dance when she's delighted on the changing table (usually this means she's getting her kit off) but mama's little own angel is simply too cute for words in this petit bateau... just let me have a moment of bragging rights on my own "tiny person" :)

Resplendent!

Hear Us Roar!!

2011-09-25T16:21:00.001+10:00

In what we looked forward to despite the night's colossal downpour at The Arms, it became a washout for the Les Bleus. However the fun of winning was sort of flattened out by a really bad bag of lousy locals that decided to not cheer for anything non-Wallabies (boo-ing is such poor form!) and the lack of respect for the All Blacks from the French front with a second-tiered team.

Just so they can have an easier path to the finals? Come on, play like real men!

Grisham and I doing our own version of the Haka...

You know what they say about starring next to kids and animals! They are natural stars!

Ok Ravi, I promise that I didn't feed your son that pint!

These got to be some of the cutest kids around the 'hood!

Did I Say...?

2011-09-22T22:13:00.000+10:00

... that I love you more than anything in the world?

You're such a cute baby octopus that I struggle to get clothed up (you love taking your clothes off) but even though you pack in a good set of lungs to tell me how much you disapprove of my trying to put on your some nice stuff to shield you from the cold and sun, I love you still more than anything in the world?

And for the odd moment in the future when you get angry at me because I won't let you have a boyfriend at age 12 and when I disagree with your wanting to wear that short mini, or when we have that real first fight over your choice of career / men / life, you will remember that I am only human and that I love you more than anything in the world?

You are all that I ever want and more. You are my angel.

6.91KG (once in your lifetime, and never to look back)

2011-09-19T21:08:00.001+10:00

Five months have thundered their heavy hooves along the fields of discovery. I looked back and found on top of being blessed with the safe delivery of our child, we finally got to experience the ride of parenthood, which sees you stop figuring things out and kindly push you to be more aggressive in pursuing instead. You realise that it's not really about finding out one answer and pretty much fold up shop. I got to become a lot more comfortable with an attitude of discovering along the way that "answers" can evolve from one form to another depending on the situation.

Otherwise, some mothers really never leave the house and get everything online!

Not that something is wrong with online purchase but one can perceived the necessity of getting dangerously sucked into housebound existence. I found that my awareness has never been this heightened and my inner radar to make a more conscious effort to get out into the sunny air becomes an act of genuine pursuit for self happiness. In short, basic nurturing of the soul translates to my being able to be there for my daughter and husband, the core of my life.

Funny how you grow a little each day. Some days you embrace your feminine strength, some days you reach out to your fellow women for assurance and communal belief. Some days you shy away from what contrasts with your instincts, others you dive in to explore.

I'm finding that I've never been more challenged in keeping sight of my goals although pacing them in a manner to appreciate its simple moments is still at times, a struggle. After all I have been guilty of trying to get it all done.

Silly me, only to be reminded that you can never get it all done.

I also realise that I am never truly alone now. And no matter what happens, that little cherub face that has grown into a blossoming happiness of mine, will always have those swirling pools of chocolate affection staring through her amazingly long eyelashes affirming that even one day, when that day comes some day, I may utter "Young lady, I am going to get crossed with you...", you know that this little human you've made will stick her tongue out and probably get into trouble when her papa comes home - will always look back at you for that special kind of love that only you can provide for her. It's a full time act of awareness, consciousness and full responsibility of choices to be made. But she'll always look back knowing that you have and always will be there.

Always.

What A Whopper!

2011-09-09T20:29:00.036+10:00

It's been such a couple of weeks. Good busy but totally flat out would probably be a better catch phrase for the mischief that Myla and we got up to. The sunny side of Spring is beginning to peek out behind the fluffy cotton flossy clouds and we knocked a few ginger beer and fish 'n' chips lunch by Balmoral.

Our little chipmunk loves... no, adores hopelessly the beauty of trees. You got to be real cute to distract her from this intense focus on what are appearing to be her latest favourite things:

Trees, the bigger the better. Bring out the big front;
Tommy & Chewy wrestling;
Blossom Bunny, her personal plush toy hanging beside her change table; and
Mama & papa especially first thing in the morning!

It's a happy chaos with the dogs running amok and my nearly got rained on by possum pee but Myla keeps things interestingly fresh. It is really never a single dull day. And she's good to her mama, with plenty of time to rest up and she fits in when we need to get somewhere. We've caught up with plenty mums & bubs group catch up in the park, a baby rhyming session in our local library plus a lunch at the delicious Toshiya Japanese restaurant. We had fun doing up her nursery and adding more stuff to keep the poor kid interested during her tummy time (still lots of complains from the little one but a parent has got to do what a parent has got to do dear!).

She's learning to catch the Rugby WC 2011 with her papa and we were a bit worried that she was making funny smiley faces when the 'Boks were scoring. And she's got a few more yellow shirts to confirm our suspicion that she makes that colour that tad cuter by the day. And what more to brag about you ask? Well... not our fault but the grandparents miss her heaps!

Of course there is the new ever-changing cries and she does have a few versions of them in her bag. The latest being this high pitch scr-wail (somewhere in between a cute scream and a "manja" wail) when she protests getting her kit on (yes, her papa is quite worried that this little girl is developing a liking to taking her clothes off... permanently) but all is forgotten when she does her snow fairy dance in the bath tub or the play mat.

Plenty of smiles and coos. This girl is definitely learning to communicate plenty with her parents and other friendly passer-bys. Sure didn't hurt when she smiled at the laundry guy to fish out our dry-cleaning quickly. At times, we got so many of those heart-melting moments and the always there delightful light in her eyes when she recognises you walking into the room... we ask ourselves one remaining question:

IS IT WRONG TO LAUGH AT HER WHEN YOUR CHILD FRETS?

Take a look at this... breaks your heart but sure gets you falling off your seat laughing at just how cute she can be, even when she goes all FERAL on us!

Happiness

2011-09-01T15:10:00.000+10:00

Words aren't necessary sometimes, and at times, discrepant for moments like this...

Incredible Facts That You Learn

2011-08-28T18:23:00.000+10:00

Besides how cute she sucks on her thumb (or all of her entire left hand), how much she farts (and at impeccable times too... like right at your open hand?), that she can keep getting cuter with every tiny laugh and squeals of delight, I have come to discover these much of information about the world:

In England, the Speaker of the House is not allowed to speak
Winston Churchill was born in a ladies' room during a dance
Swedish people drink more coffee than any other race in the world (seriously?)
Almonds are a member of the peach family
The average person's left hand does 56% of the typing
There is more than 25,000km of neon tubing in the signs on the Strip and downtown Las Vegas
On average, there are eight peas in a pod
Rice is the main food consumed for half the people worldwide
The low rumbling of distant thunder is called "brontide"
The fastest sneeze recorded was clocked at 166.7km an hour
Barbie got her first car in 1962
about a third of all Americans flush the toilet while they're still sitting on it
Research indicates that mosquitoes are attracted to people who have recently eaten bananas
Every person has a unique tongue print
Liquorice can raise your blood pressure
All of the clocks in the movie "Pulp Fiction" are stuck on 4:20
There are more chickens than people in the world
There are more plastic flamingos in America than real ones
A shark is the only fish that can blink with both eyes
The sound of E.T. walking was made by someone squishing her hands in jelly
Sigmund Freud had a morbid fear of ferns
American Airlines saved $40,000 in 1987 by eliminating one olive from each salad served in first-class
Months that begin with a Sunday will always have a "Friday the 13th"
Because of the rotation of the Earth, an object can be thrown farther if it is thrown West
Cats can hear ultrasound
It takes about 20 seconds for a red blood cell to circle the whole body
The average person falls asleep in seven minutes (not me!)
The microwave was invented after a researcher walked by a radar tube and a chocolate bar melted in his pocket
214 crates were used to transport the Statue of Liberty from France to New York in 1885
The only thing that can destroy a diamond is intense heat (but why do we want to do that?!)
The starfish has five limbs and can regrow four of them, as long as its central body is not harmed
A cat has 32 muscles in each ear
A tiger's paw prints are called pug marks
A 55kg crocodile exerts a force of approximately 700kg between its jaws
26 minutes of slow dancing will burn about 420 kilojoules
An average snail moves at a rate of 58cm per hour
Vintage port takes 40 years to reach maturity
Around four billion litres of petroleum is consumed throughout the world each day
Blype is the name given to skin that peels off after sunburn
People do not get sick from cold weather, it's from being indoors a lot more
Chickens will not walk on ice
Chewing gum while peeling onions will keep you from crying
Sugar was added to chewing gum in 1869 by a dentist, William Semple
Prior to the 1930s, diamond rings were rarely given as engagement rings
An estimated 90% of the world's fresh water is located in Antartica
In the 1800s, pink was supposed to be a baby boy's colour
The word "dictionary" was not included in the first dictionary
Apples, not caffeine, are more efficient at waking you up in the morning
The film "Titanic" costs more than the actual Titanic
The largest traffic jam ever was 177 kilometres long
Men are 6 times more likely to be struck by lightning than women
To see a rainbow you must have your back to the sun
Children grow faster during spring
A Rubik's Cube has 4,325,003,274,489,856,000 possible positions
Cats average 16 hours of sleep a day, more than any other mammals (need to check on my National Geographic first on this one...)
Human thigh bones are stronger than concrete
Madonna is related to both Gwen Stefani and Celine Dion (and I think Lady Gaga too?)
The toothbrush was invented in 1498
The first hair dryer was powered by diesel fuel
The airplane Buddy Holly died in was the "American Pie"
Koalas are excellent swimmers
The penguins that inhabit the tip of South America are called jackass penguins (poor bastards!)
A cow gives nearly 200,000 glasses of milk in her lifetime
Ketchup was sold as medicine in the 1830s
In the last 4,000 years no new animals have been domesticated
Seaweed is used to thicken ice cream
More people use blue toothbrushes than red ones
Bats always turn left when exiting a cave
Guinness Book of Records holds the record for being the book most stolen from public libraries
On average, a four-year-old child asks 437 questions a day (hmmm...)
The bullfrog is the only animal that never sleeps
Every year, the Moon moves a further 3.82cm from the Earth
The Eiffel Tower has 1,792 steps
If you attempted to count the stars in a galaxy at a rate of one every second it would take around 3,000 years to count them all
Just 20 seconds worth of fuel remained when Apollo 11's lunar module landed on the moon
The Mona Lisa has no eyebrows
Elephants are the only animals that cannot jump
Animals that lay eggs don't have belly buttons
Slugs have four noses
Flamingos are pink because they eat shrimp
Camel's milk does not curdle
There are 293 ways to make change for a dollar
Rubber bands last longer when refrigerated
Mageiricophobia is the intense fear of having to cook
The tongue is the fastest healing part of the body
Strawberries contain more vitamin C than oranges
A one-day weather forecast requires about 10 billion math calculations
The bird that lays the largest egg in relation to its own size is the Kiwi
The average person spends two years on the phone in his or her lifetime
August has the highest percentage of births
Google is a number (1 followed by 100 zeros)
There are one million ants to every human in the world
Frogs cannot swallow with their eyes open
Teeth are the only parts of the human body that can't repair themselves
A quarter of the bones in your body are in your feet
The largest pumpkin ever grown recorded a weight of 482kg
A lungfish can live out of water in suspended animation for three years
Proportionately, Earth's atmosphere is thinner than the skin of an apple
Road Runner has only been caught by Wile E. Coyote once, on 21 May 1980
Bananas grow on plants that are giant herbs, and are related to the lily and orchid family
The average weight loss of a racehorse during a race is between 6kg and 10kg
The male fox will mate for life - if the female dies, then he remains single until death (oh bless!)
A 500gm loaf of bread requires 2 tonnes of water to grow the wheat to produce it
Only two animals can see completely behind themselves without turning their heads: the rabbit and the parrot (don't even try this at home)
There are more than twice as many kangaroos as people in Australia
A tightrope walker is called a funambulist (what did you say you do again?)
Flounder swims sideways
The human eye can, given enough time to adjust, see almost as well as an owl's
The rush of air produced by a cough can approach 1,000km an hour
Greyhounds eyesight is the best of any breed of dog
In the time it takes to read this sentence, 50,000 cells in your body will die and be replaced; and
It takes a tonne of ore to produce one gold wedding ring!

The Big "3" Milestone

2011-08-28T17:33:00.000+10:00

It seems when you stared like a deer into the headlights of your new baby's face, then realised that sleep was going to be a tense in the past that someone (usually with that smarty pants look) told you that it will all "fall into place" by the 3-month mark.

Well, I've news for you.

You do somehow find that things morphed into a unique pattern of their own. Surprisingly, one night, as you made it past 1 in the morning, the next time you heard a tiny squawk that woke you, it was 5:37am! It still takes a Herculean effort to get your little one's interest to well, keep staying interested in things around her, ensuring she gets her needed time to feed, play, talk (by the way, she's a real chatterbox!), look at different things or listen to various sounds in as many degrees or angles they come in, cook dinner (no frozen meals, what an achievement in itself!), get the dogs walked and behaved in such a way that YOU are the master, the garden looking that tad decent, rescue a dogged flower pot (and its contents), the trash thrown, the spring cleaning done...

And to step out of the house in not one of those tracksuits ensemble. But saying yes to coffee is probably a given that is taken with serious intent.

We hit our big 12 weeks today and what I'm going to say is that some days are seemingly impossible, some moments are hard, but as many as they come, you are guaranteed of even more of the most wonderful experience of your child wanting to be with you, to want to hold you and have you close by, to fall asleep in your arms, her tiny yawn, her cheeky smiles, how she bashfully looks away when you play peekaboo, how she always want to have a nice talk about everything that fascinates her from the moment she wakes and when she nods off in your arms right in the middle when you are telling her about the animals and just how that tuff of hair stubbornly stands up, like so many things that you haven't figured out... and it's all fine too.

Some moments are meant to pause time and forever to be cherished. Enjoy a snippet here of Myla's first language class!

Graduation

2011-08-16T23:15:00.001+10:00

Well, we finally did it and finished off five weeks of grouping at the Early Childhood Centre. It's off to the big world now for all mums and bubs. The facilitator got us kids down on the mat to form a baby petal...

You can see that some of us weren't too happy about it. The rest of us were probably not even aware yet of what's going on!

Me? Notice the cute little green Elfin stretch? Of course I got to give a spin to things, I'm my mama's girl! :)

This is what we called the "calm" before the whipped up storm

Abigail has started cuddling up to Austin on the left. Eddie (on the right) - love his rhino outfit! I want :)

Okay, Eddie makes it official now!

So as I was saying, I like to suckle my fingers to ponder on my next move...

Right, THIS is a stretch!

The kids looking up at all the hyper mums with half a dozen iPhone cameras hovering above 'em.

Hey, look who's here! Welcome Isla!

These two are probably going to marry each other in twenty years' time.

Mama, not too close please!

Okay, this one is for papa xoxo

Isla and I, when we decided to coordinate our looking at the camera at the same time.

What? You mean the moon wasn't made out of Cheddar?!

Mama & I

2011-08-16T22:54:00.000+10:00

Just the two of us @ Spit West Reserve

(Tommy jumped off the harbour on his FIRST off-leash walk

papa had to do some cliff hanger stunt to rescue him)

Appearances - Work It!

2011-08-16T22:52:00.000+10:00

Looking this cute does take a lot of work, you know!

Baby Fun 2.5!

2011-08-16T22:45:00.000+10:00

Well, a lot has happened since our last post. For starters, the weather pear-shaped and then super days of winter warmth set in with the arrival of one of my favourite uncles - No.1! Of course I was spoilt rotten by my Uncle B and Aunt Vicki from Perth with lots of cute outfits, cuddles, guitar serenades and they even babysat me on a Sunday night so that mama, papa and Uncle No.1 could go out for some pint at the local!

Although I think I may have made Uncle B and Aunt Vicki a tad too tired with the amount of poo and pee that my system had administered that night. Needless to say, I enjoyed every moment of the changing table and I loved their attention. Ah, life as a baby is gooooooddd!

My Aunt Sophie, who couldn't visit from Sabah had my Uncle No.1 ran through some practice before my Cousin "Roland" arrives. Thought it was quite a hoot to take Uncle No.1 through my usual early morning chats, a poo change in between, a sip of milk there, another poo change again, and then we went basking in the backyard with Tommy and Chewy. That entire week saw mama and I taking Uncle No.1 out to the Manly Wharf Bier Haus for some sun, sip of the brew, and too much of pork a plenty for a dish. This was definitely a notch up from my Japanese dinner outing at two weeks old. We even managed to do a full cart of grocery shopping and watched a game of rugby with papa home. That week, my sleep pattern was quite the topsy turvy - so much happening in the house! I just absolutely wanted to be in the action, mama had to cuddle me in her arms and whisked me off to my cot for my much needed sleep... but I knew papa and Uncle No.1 were chatting downstairs, so I decided to pull my best giggles and well, mama couldn't resist my charms and we sat and talked a bit more. She told me a bedtime story of the possums and our dogs. Sigh, will have to wait for tomorrow I guess!

My first Yum Cha outing!

Okay, not funny now.. quit the dumpling tease!

That weekend we went to visit Uncle Ravi, Aunt Usha and their children at Rhodes. We stopped by to join the mad hour of dim sum and Pu Er tea. I wolfed down my milk but wondered how all those dishes of duck, wobbly steamed bits and funny pork buns would taste to a bub like me. It was incredibly busy but I just sat back and enjoyed the attention from passer-bys and the odd waiter. Pink never looked this cute!

With Uncle No.1's visit coming to an end, so began the world of 3 + 2 = Myla, mama & papa + Tommy and Chewy... equals one happy, chaotic household that usually descends into some feral moments when Tommy senses an imaginary possum climbing the backyard tree. We got into papa's one-week paternity leave very quickly. Soon enough, we were roaming around town, checking out open houses, going for some shopping, they got to do some boring paperwork like filing in their annual income tax, I got heaps of attention and love my bath time (although I did work my lungs out when papa bathed me the other day, sorry!) Papa attended my mummy & baby group, we went to the Mudgee Food and Wine Festival at Balmoral Beach. I reckoned the jazz band was rather inventive although I had no idea how the wines were but judging from mama and papa, they looked pretty happy enough!

Hic! Milk drunk :)

What I Found In Two Months

2011-08-03T21:16:00.003+10:00

You are capable of this kind of love. Intensely.

A mother's instinct works most naturally with a baby's cue, above anything else, including "that" experienced midwife or childhood nurse, or lactation consultant and sleeping specialist.

Sometimes, all we need is just to cuddle.

You will thrive, not just survive.

Sleeping takes on a mode of efficiency.

There is nothing wrong with the occasional scotch on rocks after a long day (make that a double if you have a particularly long arsenic day in which she cries blue murder).

All is well when your baby daydreams by herself, and to only turn and look at you when you enter the room... and she smiles that special smile, just for you.

Routine is only the big picture. You can't schedule a child.

Breathing through the cries help mama and baby.

There is nothing wrong with a baby crying. She doesn't speak your language yet. And it's usually regarding very basic needs - she is adept at letting you know.

It can be a change of nappy.
It can be "I'm hungry".
It can be "I'm really hungry!".
It can be "I need a cuddle".
It can be "I need to go slower".
It can be "I don't want to get out of the bath too soon!"
It can be she wants to sleep.

It can be all of the above!

Your baby will grow out of her infant clothes - fast!

It's never more fun to get her new stuff, especially for girls!

Feeding time gets special when she stares at you in that devoted way.

You will have a luxurious shower and blow dry your hair (even if it means under ten minutes in total).

You both can snuggle together and get some real rest.

You learn to listen more confidently to that maternal voice in you.

You never really "lost" yourself, you just become more different, yet more in tune with who you are meant to be all this time.

Motherhood is not an achievement, it's an everlasting lesson in life.

A baby is truly a blessing.

You can do it without all those complicated contraption.

Slow can be better.

Awareness is a new attainment.

Not losing the moment gets more defined nowadays.

And your journey, your challenges, your rewards, will always be yours and yours alone. This is the gift from your child.

Sleven Lucky Seven

2011-07-27T16:58:00.000+10:00

Yay, another wonderful week! We went visiting across the bridge to meet Baby Samuel and the proud Johnston's @ Uncle Rob the "baby whisperer" and lovely Auntie Carrie. Myla even got snuggly in Samuel's Moses basket after they had a play on the baby gym mat. Parents of course, took the respite space to chuck in some coffee and sinful Italian sweets (blame it on the cafe up those streets in Paddington!)...

Whereas mama is having heaps of fun discovering the bits of motherhood - getting milk spurted on your coat (I've learned now, anything requiring dry-clean, do NOT wear when feeding), the proverbial saying on when you're ready to walk out of the door to your appointment, your baby does a big poo-pressie, those melting moments taking on a new meaning now when you both just stare at each other and taking in the love, and while most hard pavement-pounding latte-holding commuters rush off to start their working day, I'm starting my day in the office with my little girl coo-ing and telling me about how much she loves to see me in the morning. I really can't complain. Yes, the yawns betrayed the sleep but you do get them and yes, you just got to reorganise your spur-of-the-moment activities a little bit better, and heck, you just got to develop a tougher eardrum when you take your baby out of the bath...

because I would scream too if someone takes me out of a nice warm bath.

Motherhood is heck of a discovery. We've come a long way and it feels really good to finally get over some of the scarier, clueless moments to finally "figuring" it out bit by bit and being flexible enough to go easy on yourself when just you think you got it all nicely written down, your baby writes you a new page. I've been given more handout notes from visiting nurses and midwives, plus the early childhood centre and heck, the GP clinic offers tonnes more on the rack that I'm beginning to feel like it's a return to university days of lecture halls and stacks of notes. Admittedly I don't prioritise reading them because all that we need to really learn comes very intuitively because mothering is very primitive and your baby is the first and best source of questions and answers you'll get... that I have learned through the easy and at times, in between tearful sobs and warm laughs, something I at least "get".

I don't know but for the first time since a long while, I just can't word it - hence I am dragging this but Myla, if you read this, I just want you to know that I can't wait for tomorrow because everyday is a gift from you.

I love you with all of me. Thank you for choosing me as your mama.

Aw, Grandma!

2011-07-21T17:39:00.000+10:00

A potent recipe of DOTING GRANDMA + iPHONE CAMERA = more photographs of Myla!

Hello One-month Mark!

2011-07-03T16:43:00.019+10:00

Are we having fun yet?

It's been a happy, chaotic household with two new parents spotting the raccoon-eyed look (getting better with practice) and a mantra of "by the hour, by the day, by the week"!

Myla takes us on a never-ending journey (last count it goes on to 30-40 years on a population-averaged mean) of discovery about her, ourselves and all things that our own parents had been lecturing us (which we refused to listen until now!)... but what's more heartfelt is the poignant appreciation of how fragile life is, how resilient we can be, how time really does pass, and - pause to hold a lingering tear - that with all the challenges and scary moments, this is indeed, as we are finding out and settling into for a fact, the most rewarding experience by far.

Okay, time to sterilise the bottles! Until then, here's another peek into Myla's big milestone, her one-month journey... yes, we all fussed over her that day, she got blinged up, we had a massive vegetarian lunch and she got more pink for her ongoing wardrobe from lovely friends and families around the globe.

And Two Becomes A Blissful Three

2011-06-05T16:23:00.001+10:00

Myla Isabel Nair joins us after a wonderful 12-hour natural labour on the 5th of June, 2011 at 12:21pm in the Royal North Shore Hospital, Sydney. Our little angle packs in a respectable 3210gm and a few delightful squeals and smiles!

A Take Back "What-a-long-way!"

2011-05-30T16:05:00.006+10:00

For all its purpose, it's been a heck of an adventure and here's a quick peek into the counting down days to welcoming our precious bundle of joy...

Week 37 Update

2011-05-18T14:47:00.003+10:00

It's pretty much the last haul towards the impending finishing line but I seem to recall reading somewhere in the haystack that if we humans are meant to be moving on fours instead of being upright, we would most likely to be incubating our young for - take this - ANOTHER further three months...

Which is still quite all right by me as I seem to - either fueled by complete "first timer's" blissful ignorance or a devil-may-care attitude - not be frazzled by the cartloads of stories from other mothers and a few none-mothers along the queue that:

(1) My life is going to "change forever";

(2) Things will never be the same again;

(3) Your breasts aren't your own anymore;

(4) You will be lucky to see the light of the day within a week of delivery;

(5) To pump or not to pump (there we go again, the breast talk); and

(6) so on and so forth... *yawn*

Seriously, I have to date:

(1) Spilled more tea over my new sweater than I cared to remember;

(2) Looked at passing windows of ice creams with the obsession of a possessed;

(3) Growled at lame jokes by electricians "are you over it yet?";

(4) Sprayed myself with soda water by accident (don't ask);

(5) Walked right into a spider's web; and

(6) so on and so forth... *yay!*

There are many - in fact, so much more - plus points in a pregnancy:

(1) Caring friends and families who, despite their diverse range of opinions and tastes, shower you with phone calls, emails, books, the odd beanie hat (can't believe how hard it was to track one down!) and pamphlets on cloth nappies, breastfeeding information for dads;

(2) Seeing how your hubby gets more protective over you and the bub "honey, I need to wipe the four doors of sledged dust" to cooking you his own brand of chicken curry - did anyone say nesting instinct?;

(3) Celebrating other friends' births;

(4) Hearing out other mothers who earned the right to taking a toddler to playgroups and their stories... real ones about the beauty of embracing a fantastic path of your continuing journey;

(5) Getting ready to soak in all the craziness grace of motherhood; and

(6) Secretly... I am looking forward to that odd, unexpected moment, probably at 3:30 in the morning when I rolled off my warm bed, eye-bags notwithstanding, to change my baby's nappy and the next feed...

Only to see that tiny little thing recognising me and giving me a toothless grin with those wildly swinging limbs.

Who cares if it's not time to play? Who cares if baby is going to cry due to exhaustion later? Who cares if we're not settling into a routine?

What matters is that I know, somehow miraculously, by a long line-honed realisation that nothing will come close to that sort of moment. I'm sure I will get my baby back to sleep and the little thing will not stay mad at me for too long, I am sure I can bond - bottle or breast - and I am sure that we're spending what used to be our dirty weekends away on today's nappies, I know I have to perfect the art of smelling out nappy by-products, I know I won't have all the answers.

But looking at my bump now, heck, I wonder how in my wildest dreams, did I get this lucky?

ps: Those kicks rock!

What Is Your Dirty Little Secret This Year?

2011-05-15T12:16:00.001+10:00

I'll tell you mine.

I'm having a secret affair. Wait for it, it's actually six times an affair and I've committed monetary transaction for three already. Hubby doesn't know about it and the only disguise I could put up to cover the sweet after-glow is a daft smile about nothing and according it to the blissful looks of mums-to-be, the "usual". I had tried many times to resist but it was an absolutely futile attempt that in the end, I decided to taste the forbidden fruit to get over my angst.

It was luxuriously delicious and everything that I had imagined. Being wrapped in the warm embrace of a desirous temptation, each time with triple the passion, the fulfillment of a lust that only a long hunger can attest, is something that I reckon not only a single woman or an expectant mother could deny her inner self. I remembered that windy afternoon when I walked back home carrying my secret, melting in the lone knowledge that every person on the street will not have an idea of my latest adventure, how the gray skies were coloured the maroon of a private chamber that housed the most exotic and evocative of sense-pleasing smells, tastes, and textures.

Of course I knew and still know that it's something that is prohibited. Technically I'm doing something on the sly, away from the prying eyes of the authorities and my ever caring, watchful hawk of a hubby, that I should be focusing on getting ready to progress into the next important phase of womanhood and be all that responsible strap of a dutiful mother when her child beckons to come forth to accept the pains of labour in order to welcome life.

Okay, one last admission - I tricked my hubby into going upstairs last night after he's cooked me his fantastic chicken herbal dinner to get a shower because I hid behind the excuse that I couldn't take the smell of "chook in his hair" - in reality, I succumbed again to meeting my temptation while I heard the shower running upstairs.

And I knew that I will need all the concentration, the centering of will and self-power. Hence I knew that it would amount to no tantamount sin that I succumb to my temptation and self-pleasure of a true serve of luscious, silky scoop of Neapolitan ice cream, made with the freshest cream, served chilled, eaten in front of the heater with my fleecy boots on and sigh the sigh of contentment.

You didn't think it was anything else did you? My, my... where have your thoughts gone?!

Here's to Week 36 baby! (Going 37 by tomorrow)

My April That Passed...

2011-05-02T16:35:00.003+10:00

It's just gone past the most significant month since our arrival in Australia. I had never been this occupied before to the extent that April passed me by in daily doses of to-dos and I'm snuggling contentedly in my own lounge, in our own place, in a neighbourhood to beat, in one of the most beautiful cities in the world... and what did I learn? Read on:

(1) Crazier things had happened and just when you think it's never going to be topped, mind your surprise because it usually will happen anyway, anyhow. We got white goods delivered wrongly, someone "forgot" the refrigerator and the delivery men decided to give you an attitude bigger than Priscilla in the desert and your humour level is as low as a flattened packing box could go;

(2) But then in the same tone, things can always (and usually will too) get turned into your advantage - such as bringing down the thunder with the manager of the store, evoking your civil rights and the amendment to consumer liability (I have no idea what it is but it sure sounds impressive, don't you agree?) with only poor Keith apologising to your heavily pregnant wife for putting through this poor lady the wait in the previous night for a 0630 hour wake-up call to confirm that morning's delivery and bungling it up. Sigh, so a $150-worth of gift card is the least you can do, right Keith? Okay, it helps to have a hubby who muscled in because... you're just worth it baby!

(3) That your life will be a circling blender of lint, lint, and surprise, surprise... more lint! Forget about rolling your sticky tape on your black pants - it's the holy trinity of vacuuming, cleaning, flipping out those sheets, pillows, whatever the washing machine spat out, and repeat the cycle as many times as you can muster in a day, for at least another two weeks. Smiling during the process is optional but protective eye wear is desirable;

(4) Cooking in your own kitchen is so fun! (plus after a long 3-year wait, not counting the courting days, my hubby has finally cooked me his infamous fish curry... and yes, it was worth the wait);

(5) Your first stain on the sofa, your first dent on the pot... they do hurt but you'll move on;

(6) Taking time out to breathe and realign your perspectives are important, especially when you are dealing with incompetent drivers, delivery men and service staff;

(7) The Asian food scene in Sydney still kicks ass;

(8) Patience overrules panic - do not rush into settling everything in one go. Shopping around, even though it means you have to grind your imaginative teeth to brave grumpy Sydney-siders (they probably think you're one of them too) at stores like IKEA for that elusive working desk or baby changing cot is worth the effort. Trust me on this one;

(9) And if things get too crazy, you can always up the bar by subjecting yourself to the exceptionally lacking of warmth welcoming of the Phoenix Court Chinese Yum Cha restaurant and dig into some fabulously nourishing morsels of delight;

(10) It's a building exercise that you'll never ever forget for the rest of your life and as hard as you can fathom it RIGHT NOW, in a decade, you'll look back at life and forward, laughing at adversity because you handled it ALL back then (if I get a Dollar for every time anyone made a comment that I was "very brave" to move country, city (twice in the space of 3 months), go preggers, settling down in a new system of things, getting things bought / delivered / unpacked / cleaned and sorting out recycled items to do our bit for the environment (and well, the Council didn't really leave much choice), hospital visits, all the waits, finding out how things work around here, did I mention about grocery, all the registrations, all the dealing with the authorities of all forms and departments, and catching up with friends, and reminding ourselves the other friends that we had yet to call (sorry! soon, we promise!), clean and cook, get some decent sleep AND well, look well put together when I step out of my front lawn? I would, honestly, get a good stipend to buy myself a treat at the Victorian Tearoom after a good session of spa-ing and enough left for the trip back home in a cab); and

Finally, having your hubby coming home for a surprise lunch when he bought you your favourite chicken avocado toasted wrap, and reminding you that "we need to get more beanie hats for our little one" is absolutely divine.

My takeaway from it all - yes, it's been insanely unpredictable you just got to laugh at it. There were definitely moments of apprehension and ponder, doubt, fear, uncertainty but on the grand scale of things, you absolutely have to pinch yourself and remind yourself what an incredible reality that you are living in.

So, before I yap on about the great mysteries of life, enjoy some of the snapshots that I've captured during our stay in Manly before moving into our own Lower North Shore pad. Yep, this bump ain't a bummer at all! Bub and Mama had been busy sniffing around for the extraordinary in the ordinary, only to at times come out with some unbelievable mouthed "Oh..." moments.

Enjoy folks!

Ageing is so not fun sometimes! (And cruel)

I don't know what's more hot and bothered - the seagulls, my camera, or the lady's strategically placed palm?

Not far for us to go now! I love you bubba and your papa and I can't wait to see you :) XOXO

De Ghuma Ke!

2011-03-27T16:07:00.007+11:00

I have a confession. No, it's not a Sunday thing. It's the ICC World Cup Cricket 2011.

It's this coming week's semi-finals.

It's about watching Shoaib thundering down the pitch, and no, I don't care how big his ass has become. He's one of the legendary bad boys of cricket with a mop of hair to die for, with an attitude that you hate so much that you love even more.

It's about reminiscing about the Wasim days. It's about the days when bell-bottom pants-wearing fans (think of the 1975 Windies) swarming the pitch BEFORE the last run has finished.

It's about seeing a 16-year old, rosy-cheeked Afridi grown into a pyschotic-performing, mother hen captain that has the only thing crazier than his sixer batting, to be his insanely thick stubble.

It's about India. Bless you for teaching me the wonderful world of cricket. It's about Australia - I know you're not in this World Cup's final but nonetheless, you are one of the best teams in the world that command respect. Just take it a bit easy yea mate?

Kiwis. What can I say? You guys inspire, inspire, and inspire. Go all the way!

Did you say Sri Lanka? My hubby will tell you how he teases me about Sangakkara. In my opinion, a splendid captain, a solid team, not necessarily the top but heck, but man, can they rise to the occasion or what? (This is a statement, not a question) And who cares if Kumar's hair isn't as consistent as his batting? Listen to him speak!

But this year's semi-final showdown between Pakistan and India. I want both to win but I think the Pakistani people need the win more, one that will be bigger than the actual final itself because cricket has that inclusive magic. In an age of terrorist attacks (you guys suck), poverty, politicians getting blasted, all that drain our energy and theirs, we need to bring the game back to the people, the kids, the fans, the future. This win has that essence. I strongly believe the unique Pakistani soil raises the talent that kept bowling us in awe (no pun). Must be something in the attitude to life, could be the chai, must be the dhal perhaps?... India, you know you always have a sweet spot in my heart. Long live Harbhajan!

But boy oh boy, did you get a drift of the official anthem? Just in case you want to "hit hard" in the shower (I know I will), here is the set of lyrics. Go ahead, knock yourself out.

Jiyo khiladi waahe waahe – 4 times

Ayede peyde (de ghumake)
Aare paare (de de ghumake)
Gutti guttham (de ghumake)
Adchan khadchan (de de ghumake)

Jiyo khiladi waahe waahe – 2 times

Ayede peyde (de ghumake)
Aare paare (de de ghumake)
Gutti guttham (de ghumake)
Adchan khadchan (de de ghumake)
Juta hausla, badal faisla
Badhaale tu bindass kaafila
Khel jamaale, kasam uthaale
Bajake chutki dhool chatade

De ghumake, ghumake, ghumake, ghumake, de ghumake, ghumake
Jiyo khiladi waahe waahe
De ghumake, ghumake, ghumake, ghumake, de ghumake, ghumake
Jiyo khiladi waahe waahe

Aasman mein maar ke dubki
Uda de ja suraj ki jhapki
Sarr se cheer hawa ka parda
Baandh le patte jamke garda
Maar ke surri sagar mein tu
Chaand bator laga gal mein
Phaad ke chappad masti mauj ki
Baarish hogi ghar ghar mein

De ghumake, ghumake, ghumake, ghumake, de ghumake, ghumake
Jiyo khiladi waahe waahe
De ghumake, ghumake, ghumake, ghumake, de ghumake, ghumake
Jiyo khiladi waahe waahe

Atki saans sui ki nok par
Khel bada hi gehera hai
Maza bhi hai romanchedaar sa iska
Ranga rangi yeh chehera hai
Mitti shitti ho halla sab
Hullad dhoom dhadaka hai
Khel khiladi tadak bhadak sab
Jalta bhadaka hai

De ghumake, ghumake, ghumake, ghumake, de ghumake, ghumake
Jiyo khiladi waahe waahe
De ghumake, ghumake, ghumake, ghumake, de ghumake, ghumake
Jiyo khiladi waahe waahe

Flown Off To Babymoon

2011-03-15T15:01:00.002+11:00

If only we could stay there longer! Hubby took me and the dogs off down South in the charming town of Margaret River for some quietude and much needed space of our own. So we basically housed up in a cottage hidden amongst the trees homed by peacocks and Guinea fowls, fed chooks and geese, Shetland and Angus studs, saw a heartbreakingly sweet moment when Chewy came face-to-face with a curious cow that got close enough to give him his ever virgin kiss (plenty of protest barks later on) and I got my first "antenatal class" feeding an orphaned joey.

The drive down was driven by the incessant effort of Tommy squeezing himself between the chasm of leg room back at the passenger's seat and our front compartment. He dutifully saw himself as designated co-pilot next to hubby for the entire 4-hour drive. That was the only way we could keep him sedatedly still and sane.

Had a stunning lunch at the splendidly groomed Voyager Estate and a drive down to Cape Leeuwin. Got to practice some negative space photography while doing the squatting Buddha asana - bet you never saw that before while looking out at the meeting point of two seas huh?

I'm progressing along the seven-month mark and the point of the day is not to waddle. Baby is kicking so cutely and this kind of groovy, lovey feeling is pretty special... especially when at times, things around you seem so crazily mashed up like the aftermath of the Japan earthquake, politicians debating about the carbon tax, sms spams prescribing acid rain and Betadine antedote and cure-all for the woes of mankind.

Like I shared with a close mate "if it's that easy, then we should have conquered Mars by now".

Get out for a walk people. If there is anything to harness from this, be thankful, spread some goodwill, and gulp the fresh air, smell the flowers and stop panicking!

Here are some of the glimpses of a moment stolen away from the madness we returned to.

From Bar SaVanh To The Laundry Room

2011-02-27T21:42:00.002+11:00

Dealing with customer relations officers can be laborious, or something akin to a test of nerves, maybe a measurement of your vow of patience is indeed a virtue, or all of the above.

It's been a busy couple of weeks with plenty of milestones. I have just achieved one a few moments ago by moving successfully through the guerilla jungles of answering (and coaching the Q&A session in between waiting periods fuelled by xylophonic rendition of mind-numbing music) a series of enquiries to land myself onto a post-paid mobile plan. Besides feeling the exhilaration of being locked up for the next 12 months to a contract and the sweetening desirous rewards of a bonus option (only to be rudely had my bubble burst by my IT / Mobile savvy hubby's feedback) on per second vs. 30-second block call charges, and a $5 rebate, I had navigated myself through the explosive terrain of contractual mobile negotiations and the embarassing realisation that I couldn't run too far (in a case of I can't really hide) from making a deal with the telecommunication devil.

We also celebrated my dad's big 60 in a week filled with plenty of gastronomical debates, tucka, and well, more tucka. At the very least, a fattened duck was lovingly roasted and sliced into wafer-thin pancakes deserving portions while we laddened our creations with some good yellow-bean paste, washed down by a magical mix of salivating wonderment and a can of Yeo Hap Sing Chrysanthemum tea. There was also a drive up to the countryside in which we took the senior folks and our dogs for a delectable breakfast amongst lavender bushes cutting through the greasy waft of lean bacon, scrambled organic eggs (no doubt those happy chooks running free are popping them out as easy as ABC) and warm puffy heaps of scones sliced in the most un-Victorian approved etiquette. More cream and jam please.

The dogs got their G.I. Joe haircut because all the matted material must go and my Westie looked very much like a joey on four legs. Tommy had been challenging the Alpha rank (again), hence getting himself into plenty of sessions that resulted in me sounding like a caffeine-addicted schoolmaster lecturing that rebellious teenager on the horrors of peeing along the fence. Well, at least he hasn't taken on graffiti.

There were also heaps of family get-together with my brother and his wife, more cakes and apple green tea and cosy Japanese cuisine purveyor discovery. Also we are being greeted with more fresh produce from the season and I am happily devouring the colours of nourishment from as varied as my selection can go in line with feeding our growing little one. Really experiencing some fancy movements now and I reckon at times, my womb did feel like a garage practice session for a future rockstar on the drum set. Other days, it's a giant hall albeit rounded, for an aspiring martial arts exponent.

But overall, motherhood to be for this mum2B is one beautiful journey. I love, despite the nagging aches of your body adjusting to the expansion and contraction of muscles to accommodate your growing needs and provision for your baby's comfort, the feeling - that rush - you get when you see your hubby's hand touching so gently on the blossoming parcel of miracle while Skype-ing with relatives across the Seas, or when he bends over to greet a morning kiss, and when he talks to the little one at bedtime. Life's moments are made of unexpected wonders such as your child throwing back a knowing hand or foot at your adult hand's touch, almost telling you that you'll be all right, we'll figure it out along the way and have heaps of fun doing it.

In between plenty of bottles being opened to celebrate these milestones, I discovered too that being pregnant came with the honour of being the nominated skipper every time we go out. Your dogs don't really care if you waddle like a duck as long as you take them out for their walks, although I seriously have an issue bending over to leash them up now. Here's a quick thank you to the squatting Buddha pose while I'm at it. Don't give up, improvise!

We got our 4D scans too and the results from our last check-up got the professor's good nod. Can you believe that the baby's nose changes since? We are spotting a cute button-nose now and my hubby can't be happier. I should take that as a compliment to how much he loves mine huh? *smile* Our baby is already a yoga baby - both in session with me as well as showing off (this little performer!) during the ultrasound. We think too that the sleeping pose is very much taking after us too. And of course, being the parents, we think this is absolutely the most gorgeous baby we have ever seen and feel so privileged to welcome into our world.

As I roll over to do the side get-up this morning, I hear my hubby loading the wash in the machine. The sun is shining brightly on a day when England is taking on India in the World Cup Cricket 2011. We are making fish porridge tonight in hope to detox from our week's of indulgence. Our tummies are still side-twitching from the laughs we had from recollecting all the funny stories of days gone-by where we had one too many Vodka and to see red plums substituting the code to the temple of our souls.

Pausing at it, I must agree, it has been one long journey and I'm feeling that the best is yet to come.

Can't wait!

L.O.V.E.

2011-02-14T20:41:00.001+11:00

Remember a time when love encapsulated all that was the precious noun that was to be possessed, to have and to hold beyond all circumstances?

The angst, the competition, the guessing work. When a pimple-faced junior high-schooler (read: Yours Truly?!) looked longingly out into the courtyard, daydreaming a magical transformation that only a fairy godmother could bestow. We knew so little about love except that your parents should stay together forever and ever, you never stayed angry at each other for long, you got nervous when they argued for they really (whether they realised it or not) represented as unwilling or unknowing mascots for all that was true, steadfast and ever-lasting.

Then you moved on to the wriggly feeling you got when a secret admirer left a rose in your drawer while you were out in the field practising throwing a ball during physical exercise class. There was the cheesy, huge love-shaped card with cursive writing proclaiming undying "love" and that he would and could follow you to the end of the Earth's boundaries, that he would never marry another should you deny him your lifelong gift of devotion and admiration. (We all knew what happened to that - that we grew up and realised better!)

Today, sifting through a Red Sea of roses, chocolate packets, boxes of high-dollared spending, sparkles and one-knee proposition, love truly represents its most honest face - that love is after all, a verb, more than anything. Love is work, it's the career of your life that you never really get to cash in on your retirement, one that constantly reinvents itself in varying forms, that you never really figure it out but learn to put in the time, effort, and belief, especially during times when all that call for is doubt and fear. Love is growing together and learning to unfold a petal at a time.

Love has many facets but most importantly, love is creating something special together - to some it could be a home, others a child, some a life's commitment to a charity shared, while you can just hold each other's hand and discover what your love's description is and build from there.

Here's to the Valentine's Day for the every day...

for the rest of your life.

Too Many Questions This Week

2011-02-05T10:42:00.010+11:00

Multiculturalism brings up a vast connotation of cross-cultural doctrines that most societies need to face in the new Century. Unless of course, if you are comfortable resting on the same couch eating the predictable ham and cheese toastie for the rest of your life (not bad for some folks but I'll opt out) then I would caution that ignorance is at one's peril should we turn a cold shoulder to this topic.

If anything, it was one of the more critical titles that I, amongst other students in my pre-University Foundation Studies, had to tackle. Needless to say, I sat stunned and lazy, staring at the blank page flat on my desk, pondering on the quickest way to produce a critically-acclaimed piece regarding the definition of multiculturalism in Australia. Take yourself back to age seventeen on a hot, stuffy Friday afternoon - do you think that would be at the forefront of your imagination?

Absolutely not for me, nonetheless I did sit back and daydreamed a while to buy more time. So I began by asking myself how much did I understand about multiculturalism back in my own native country. Much to my horror, I suspected I may had taken it for a long granted period.

Shame on you Viv.

Before I nail myself up on the crucifix of nationalistic conscience, fastforward to the current day, I catch myself once again, tripping over the tried and tested path of adult conversation in which I am given the opportunity to revisit an old friend once more.

To most, if not all Chinese around the world, irrespective of your dialect clan, I wish firstly, Gong Xi Fa Chai as the bunny year hops sprightly into 2011 for real (finally). And following from my previous entry, yes, the reunion dinner at the cheesily-named Chinese restaurant here went superbly fun and delicious. We feasted on ten dishes between two families and I walked down memory lane indulging in a lion dance performance done by a much enthusiastic crew consisting of both local Australian-born Chinese and Anglo-Saxon kids. Lion dances always brought back heaps of wonderful memories where a time was based on a backdrop of a sleepy town by the port of Elopura, propped up by the waves of money coming from the timber industry when flashy bright lights of dancing girls, illegal casinos, top North Asian chefs flown in to delight the businessmen's insatiable taste for the exotic, sandy white beaches and my own moments of looking down from the hill where my parents took me for my weekly fix of steamboat and watching the lonely ships bellowing their horns across the ebony horizon, their lights onboard twinkling sadly betraying only a hint of homesickness that my heart could relate yet not put a word to describe at that age.

This year, we celebrated it here in Australia. It continued a series of observations that I had been doing eversince we moved away from the bossoms of Elopura. Our initial big move was to the sister town, an "up the ladder" version of the comforting town we grew up in, then known as Jesselton. You still could enjoy the vices of home-cooked delicacies, grandmother recipes that held a single purpose in life to spoil us kids with all the sugar and spice, lion dances (oh, yes) and more red packet ang pow that were collected from house visits. We still kept the traditions of properly wishing our elders and right etiquette of receiving the ang pow, and as we got older, we joined the group of cousins that kept up late to midnight on the eve to signify the ushering of longevity for our parents. For a twelve year-old going thirteen, it felt like I had been inducted into a hall of secretive practices and codes.

A single phonecall came one day a few years later and our family found ourselves packing again to move down to the national capital, Kuala Lumpur. That was a true cultural shock. No home visits. Restaurant-type reunion dinners where three generations hardly talked (those who did were akin to boasting about their latest conquest, be it of a human species, a gambling windfall, some real estate in some invested postcodes, some poor kid's report card) and flashy show of rich cheongsam fabric, gold bangles, an assortment of ang pow design and television programmes. It was, in truth, much more shallow in substance but we hung on to our little comfort circle defined by phonecalls back to Sabah and home-made meals. On this note, mum, thanks for slaving over the stove making those yummy soups back those years!

Perhaps I had, in between spending some reunion dinner years away in a foreign land due to studies and later, work, become slightly more nonchalant about the traditions, tricking my heart into repeating the mantra that time was the worst enemy when you allowed it to be one.

Somehow, Life as predictable as always, threw a curveball to freshen things up and I caught myself, blissfully married to a non-Chinese, set to revive the traditions that had defined my childhood and brought me so many special, irreplacable memories.

Which is the reason that I found myself almost yearning for a loss, not for myself but for the other Chinese that had relocated to Australia. Many carelessly wiped away the event with a firm resolution that cemented their conviction of consistency in not having "observed that for many years". Could it be isolation that does this to you? Could it be a lack of communal mass? Could it be one's just trying to forget (in some extreme cases) all that is tied to their past lives, their background, their childhood?

Some couples sighed a heavy resignation of confession that their kids "refused to speak their dialect". I must say I did pause to weigh the statement because somehow I have seen kids from Asia that came from cross-parentage maintained both their (if not more) dialects consistently, hence it's a doable thing. Could it be an environmental influence then? Could it be in the much loved Malaysian tongue-in-cheek "ini sure tak cukup rotan ni!"

I'm not talking about people with three eyes or hold a Babi Hutan-slaying knive in their purse. These are respectable people in their chosen professions, serving the people of Australia.

My immediate in-laws from my brother's side are tight and solid as a family. Kids are immensely well brought up and dutiful towards their parents. Very admirable. However when both our sides sit together, there are much to talk and share, exclamations of surprise that the Wong kids know how to speak Chinese (particularly me, which made me shot a moment of ponder on how far my brother had gone in the language preservation ladder, and just forget about his command in Melayu even! Must be funny hearing him belting out a sentence in the former national language of choice...), our filling in the gaps on cultural elements that had previously appeared to be so common a knowledge to us.

I'm putting all of these down more of a reminder to question myself. How difficult it must be for the earlier migrants? How or what do you use to define as your stand or your contribution on the temple of multiculturalism? What is important, and what can be replaced? Admittedly, it is tricky to have an "open house" concept in the middle of a working week but in my case, Chinese New Year runs for fifteen days, I think I can fix in a fusion get-together for the weekend, Aussie Barbie and VBs with Yee Sang and that silky 1960s' crooner belting out some CNY songs?

Fast forward again: Day two into the new Lunar year. The arvo was blowing away peacefully with a cooler respite settling into the week. So unlike the usual clash of mahjong "washing" that was a staple as you walked through every kampung village housing lanes in Elopura, or the Char Siew sweetly roasted pork-infused streets of Cheras that lined the beginning of the terrace houses in a domain of the Kuala Lumpur district. A dull hum at first, but building up to an evaporative expulsion of hopes and luck, duelling and trickery, all in the good fun of festive gambling. Heck, we decided to round up my folks and cash in our rabbit year brought on "luck" and tried out a few rounds of Poker and reminisce about the good old days of my maternal grandmother's infamous appearance in the CNY gambling circuit back on that affectionately named "Pineapple Hill Village" by the beach with the powder white sand, hence its name.

But later on the six o'clock news, Cyclone Yasi's coverage dominated most of the headlines, shared only minutely with the riot in Cairo. It struck me - there was hardly any 60 second blip on why and what millions if not billions of Chinese on this particular week were doing. No touch on the meaning of reunion. No touch on the infusion of various dialect clans and their influence on the elements and definitions of CNY celebration.

Chinese New Year could and may had potentially passed on as just another day here. Completely insignificant. I'm not asking for national coverage 24/7 but unless you are of Chinese descent or related to one, chances are you will probably think this weekend is just another shrimp on the Barbie.

I asked myself again - how well do I know Eid being celebrated here? How well do I understand Ponggal and if they even celebrate it here? How much do we share the significance of Thaipusam? How about Qurban? Onam anyone? Kaamatan then, how or what about it you say? And what about the similarities or differences that migrants adopt or define to mark something more "common" like Good Friday, Easter and Christmas? How about the Scandinavian holidays? The more indigenous holidays?

As much as I support a Bill of Rights to define the civil code of order for every Australian, and those that want to be part of this country; I think I catch myself thinking, or more correctly asking a heck lot more questions regarding the fabric of Australia.

It is my belief that how you grew up, what you uphold today, play a little bit even in the way you conduct yourself in the future.

Up until today, beyond the grading of my college paper submission, beyond my awakening from the years of ignorance regarding my own multicultural possession from my native country, beyond my new, hopeful carving of an inter-cultural family unit for myself, my partner and child - what and how should I represent multicultural Australia?

What is really important? How far are we prepared to sacrifice and uphold, to forego and forget?

What A Week!

2011-01-28T23:09:00.001+11:00

And it truly has been!

We've reached our half way point and celebrated entering our second trimester with all the vigour and happiness a calm pregnancy can bestow on two adults. I'm experiencing wonderful little kicks that are definitely not butterfly flutters and it's really hard to reconciliate into any reference point in the past. This feeling is, somehow, entirely alien yet amazingly miraculous. Personally I am finally feeling like I could "bond" with a soul growing inside of me. Hubby and I are revelling in every moment that we feel our little one responding to us (actually that is most probably us making it up but what the heck, it's fun!) with little soccer practice and yoga leg raise, especially at night to let us know that there are three of us cuddling in bed now.

Our daily walks have been whipped into a strict discipline fashion by our two trusted mascots. Tommy and Chewy make sure that we get out all jumpy squirrels in the morning to take advantage of the summer's beautiful dawn as well as the evening's sunset. It's been so much fun having them home and helping them to settle and socialise with the other dogs in the parks. One thing we love it here is the fact that it's as easy as finding sand in a desert when it comes to lovely parks. Off leash walks have never been more eventful! Yes, there is still the odd command that Tommy ignores totally while Chewy dashes off like a fluffy white cannon ball to keep up with the speeding Kelpies during the ball games. We're still learning about the weird creepy crawlies that roam the garden and also preparing for the impending cyclone this Sunday night. So the dogs will be sleeping in the garage to avoid the "I-think-I-lost-my-dogs-in-midair" syndrome.

Yes, freaky weather has been around and doesn't look like it's going away. I'm not going to join in the obsession and shall refrain from commenting more. To indulge, just click onto any Australian news websites and you'll get your fix.

We're still soldiering on dutifully on the job-front and really feeling the waters here. All part of the programme they say. Melbourne is looking warm and by that I don't mean the weather... although this Sunday's forecast will be a scorcher and I'm not sure Djokovic's chance will be good in winning the first Grand Slam of 2011, unless of course he blows cold on the pundits! What will half the retired, tennis-die hard fans of the population do after this weekend? Hit the courts until we head into Roland Garros season, I guess?

The evergoing debate on "to car now, or not to car now" has gone down to more substantial discussion about budget and we're itching to head out to the wilderness to camp and be close up with nature again. And yes, we finally experienced some real Australian medical care and well, more prenatal check-ups coming up next week. I heard too that there will be a Chinese New Year reunion dinner at a cheesy, but yummy Oriental restaurant named "Serenade" (think purple flower painting with bright sparkling stars on the wall and lemon prawns) while China stands to have the first Asian / Chinese to shake up Belgium in the women's final in the Australian Open 2011, although I do feel that Clisters' time is now. The poor Danes... Wozniacki is still cute though!

So there we went and here we go, into another week! Can't believe I'm running around with my lovely bump ahead of me! Talk about waking up everyday to a life less ordinary.

The Great Australian Spirit

2011-01-16T22:02:00.003+11:00

Bread has always signified a certain sense of comfort for me. Symbolically at primary school age, it was the bastion of my mother's version of "someone to watch over me" as I pulled out my lunch box dearily to meet my peanut butter sandwich while I eyed enviously at the mee goreng that my classmates were busy showing off around me. Although much of my school days' recess time was spent rowding up the boys to play tag (again) with me and schemed on ways to dispose my bread lunch wisely so that my conscience didn't nag me on the ride home, secretly inside my heart, this humble carbohydrate had a reassuring sense of your being provided for, that somebody cared to ensure you never had to go hungry.

Throughout my tertiary years and experience working and travelling overseas, I had, as an adult, began to enjoy the myriad of versions the unassuming bread. Today, the Turkish loaf, French baguette and the ever popular roti canai (crispy on the go for me please!) rank high in my list of must-have when it comes to the question "what can you eat every day?".

Despite the ongoing popular fad diets that had targeted even my gentle loaf of assurance, my dedication to this essential providence of nutrient (white, mixed grains, wheat, I eat 'em all) never waned because it represented something beyond food for me. It consolidated all the memories of warm winter fires, a hot mug of chocolate, melting butter and good times, glowing skin and happy laughs. Bread is my lighthouse in the mist.

In your comfort, it's so easy to lose yourself in the artificial cocoon of safety. The lie that our minds tell us repeatedly that no matter how hard the world has evolved, ours will be one that will hold all that is true and certain forever. Yet, if you wake up from this daydream, you don't have to have a tragedy to understand what a basic human conscience can do - that relating to another's suffering is more than "you poor thing". It's like cooled caramel in the way it sticks to you and it needs confrontation, recognition and understanding on what's our stand on such issues.

Which in this moment, my thoughts go out to the ever steadfast people of Queensland, and to Australians far and near. I urge you to get on the many sites appealing for donations - search "Queensland Flood Appeal" and you get your pick - even the humble a kennel bed for a dog is appreciated! Chug in the coins, draw in the Dollars. This has never been a better time to lead and teach our youngs the spirit of giving outside of the Yuletide Season. Don't be shy to round up the grocery bill, add on a few more. Encourage each other to roll up the sleeves. Put aside our State differences and come together. Every ounce counts. Every bit is valued. Hundreds of thousands have volunteered to clean up the aftermath. Even the Australian Summer of Tennis didn't sit idle - great legends and talents come together to rake in the donations, matched by Corporate citizens.

We can't imagine the pain, the loss, and the challenges ahead. The tears may dry, the streets may be clean again. Yet we know Australia will never be the same once more - because not only they have proven themselves to be the ones that always get back up, that they are indeed the more resilient and hardier from this, and the whole world knows and backs all of you up.

If You Don't Like It, Then Leave?

2011-01-08T15:06:00.003+11:00

In the week-plus that we've arrived in our new home Australia, it's been an eventful one which we experienced juxtaposed weather patterns, fantastic public toilets, gorgeous forest trail drives, below-par Chinese food (sorry, just because you slapped on "Han's Delights" doesn't fool the palette), wonderful reunions with our dogs at a top-rated quarantine facility (under two more weeks now until they get to come home!) amongst a blitz of programmes and distractions.

Unfortunately (depending which side of the globe your batting pendelum swings) the Australians lost the Ashes this week to England and that brought up a distant discourse from the banks of memories that we had from our travels in which we had some clever discussions regarding "what is being Australian?" with some local well-read and travelled mates from Down Under who remained until today, as good friends of ours. Of course having spent a great deal of my adult years in South Australia, I have become quite enamoured with all things Adelaidean and her wonderful cousins outside the 'burbs. And that includes my admiration for "our" legendary Sir Donald Bradman. That was a debate of a quality that suggested healthy disparaging opinions, quite entertaining beyond the appalling peanuts and beers that we had in the little sail boat that kept us hostage for three nights in the middle of a really big China river. After all, we were adults that commanded a decent level of respect for one and all, irrelevant of which camp you bet on in cricket and all things immigration.

Which is the reason I have become suspiciously intrigued with the ongoing observation that came fleeting at first, only to build up to a crescendo of obvious apparent presence from the intensity of it being discussed in the mass media, subtle side news clippings notwithstanding.

Of course it would be premature and tempting to throw the baby out with the water and conclude that it's really all but a malaise endemic to Western Australia. Instead I am adding on our previous trips to this great state, onto now, our first step into settling down in Australia through this gateway, as part of the experience I have accumulated from studying, living and working as a full-fee and tax-paying individual since the day I stepped onshore South Australia, New South Wales, and Victoria. In short, I have a mere close decade of getting to understand and enjoying embracing the lifestyle I have come to love in Australia. Call it innocence but I have chosen a route that allowed me to approach each face and fact as an open blank page. Yes, there were times when it was hard to resist comparing but I have always been proud of myself that I can reel my senses back to the fact that I have chosen to come to Australia and this is home now, one that wrote a giant chapter of my life, gave an instrumental guide in my tertiary education and provided a brighter future for my initiatives and effort.

So, yes, it did strike a personal surprise when I saw a group of cyclists (one of my most favourite people on Earth) bearing a huge banner "Love it, or leave" cutting through the pristine waters of the Swan River's path. Disturbingly, I could not ignore more blatant car stickers hooning on the same message. More worrying news of massive drunken assaults in the public. Fashion of shoot and run. Is the bogan / hooner / alcohol-fuelled culture coming up as an alternative for a growing number of Australians? Panic is talking, you may cite.

I do understand our world has changed and we do live in a fairly more complicated mix of (insert your preference)-phobia, suspicious unidentified black bags in public places culture, and a refusal from a number of percentage from the visiting / migrating community to mix and learn from their new home country.

Believe me, nothing frustrates me more than seeing my own "kin" (read: Asians) keeping to their own level of superiority complex and being unadaptable to a new code of conduct and morality in complying to what works and what not in Australia. Trust me that I will be the first one to speak up - purely because this is not a question of loyalty but one of social respect and common sense - be it that this happens in my own native country or my new migrant country. Hear me, as this can be a simple as a fundamental question as requesting this careless South Asian lad to thank a white senior Australian lady, not because I think we are of an inferior lot but basically it is a matter of courtesy.

(note: This example above happened in a train station in which, giving the benefit of the doubt, the young lad hadn't realise that he dropped his train ticket and the lady picked it up for him and handed it over. Unfortunately, part of an inherent (deeper social discussion could be hinted in my previous blog entries in my observation in the gender-imbalance from some of the countries that we had travelled to and observed) culture that had seeped into the Australian system as exemplified by one migrant here alone, no thank-you came back)

I am not writing this to spark up a "whose wrong is it?" or go on an endless fruit chase down the Alice-in-wonderland-rabbit-hole-path to point a finger at any side (Australian or otherwise). I do not believe that we sleep better any night by playing judge and jury to persecute one guilty party to hold all the charges. Life just doesn't work out that way.

In this one short week we had been moving about, we did keep to being as civilised and observe a manner to watch and learn from how things are being done here. Goes without saying too that we bring with ourselves the good behaviour and public courtesy that our family upbringing had incultivated in our daily dealings with the people we have met across the service industry, odd shoppers around the malls and shops, and people sharing the walking paths along the parks. Plainly speaking, no different from the respect that we would exude and expect when we travel within Malaysia, the greater region and around the many exotic cultures around the world.

A shocker came when we became "victims" of comments to "move ahead" because we were sharing a two-lane pathway and the father and son were deeming it that we were too dim-witted to give way. Another shot back a "you don't have to be in my way" when we were stopping at a traffic path before crossing to the other side of a busy street albeit there was enough space for a group of lateral queuers side-by-side. Mind you, all sounded minor, but said with a hint of discriminatory tone to it, it's an entirel different ball game.

Life stress, anyone?

I am not highlighting these two examples to henpick on the rare individuals who may have provoked a racial suspicion. What came as a complete eye-opener is the lack of compassion that I had come to accept as common Australian warmth from my time spent in this country in the past. I had seen violent racial confrontation only to be comforted by Australians - complete strangers on the street - and I have seen fathers standing up against bad behaviour because they didn't want their children to learn and accept that bullying, of any sort, against any creed, colour, religion, physical form and education level, is just that - wrong. I have many friends and colleagues who supported anti-racism in its simplest form - it is wrong. Hence, it dismayed myself a little when I experienced, although directly given at my husband, whom at the moment, probably (as un-PC as it sounds) belongs to the flavour of the moment when it comes to massive immigration infiltration and as a result of his skin colour, becomes the unwilling poster boy for all things anti-South Asian. If I have been here a few decades earlier, perhaps I would be the flavour of the moment too. Vietnam. Boat people. Remember? That's until another race and culture bring with them, the good, the bad, and the ugly.

There could be plenty I can rant about. An easy way to justify the ill feelings surfacing from a racial slur, mild as it may be, could be to quickly generalise it with the state of people it came from. I could immaturely classify Western Australia as a resource-rich state (quote) with an 11-pm bedtime and drinking culture inherited from the 70s and 80s (end quote), or Australia as a desperate player of the bigger global community wanting to carve a piece of identity for itself in the new arena and risking sinking itself into the same pool of inconsistency that Switzerland and France had in their dealings and reaction in relation to Islamaphobia, which in my humble opinion, still stem from a staunch finger pointing the blame and gathering all logic behind the face of the veil as a representation of all things evil, without understanding the deeper culture of the purdah.

The presentation of the new show in Afghanistan, "The Mask" was not done to propel the individuals who are daring to push the boundaries of the past and present a more hopeful present and future for freedom of speech. Instead, disappointingly, the show here fell flat as a three-day old pancake in missing the point. It is not about how many women are still suffering from oppresion in Afghanistan. Yes, it is still humiliatingly high but the point here is that her people are wanting to speak up and they can push the fences further. I fear that that local show has only successfully showed that Afghanistan is still hell on Earth and everyone that came off the boat from this country ought to be deported. I admit I was once guilty of such ignorance until the blessed chance to meet the people of some of the most remote and misunderstood regions in the world had changed my perception. I am speaking and sharing up here so that you don't have to walk my previous path. I am no saint but think about this: they are no different from you and me. We all share the same aspirations for a better world for our children and a dash of positive hope for ourselves. Yes, we may differ in our choice of utensils when it comes to devouring a roast chicken but heck, in a year's time, does that really matter? I am standing on a holy ground of more crucial matters - respect, values, concrete tipping points that can make us an uglier judgemental person or one that chooses to understand and help to educate. As a mother-to-be, I will teach my child that his / her allegiance is towards her country of birth, which is Australia despite their having a Chinese-Indian culture and parents born outside of this country. Our child will bring to Australia his / her abilities enriched by the fact that our families have chosen to come together above differing cultures. It's not about being genetically "better" but it's really about a much more diverse platter of goodies that we can bring to the room.

I am not citing that Australia has to change itself to adjust to the incoming boat people. But there are also hardworking migrants (like us) who chose to build a new future here. We paid good money and uprooted ourselves from a familiar background because we believe Australia is one of the best countries in the world to start a new adventure, despite faults of generalisation that "all migrants are here to get free rent accommodation and social benefits". I have to look for a job. I will look for a job happily because I want to contribute to Australia. I don't whinge about the high taxes because I choose to see that Australia gives back in the forms of great social facilities such as something you may find as banal as a parents room in a shopping mall, public health care, superb animal rights, care for the less well-off. I believe that what I pay out will go to helping the greater circle of less fortunate ones in the system. I want to travel outside the city areas because I want to learn about my new home, her indigenous flora and fauna, her people, her history. I do not want to judge because I believe I can learn more in approaching things more openly. Most of all, I want to keep opening my mind and negate old perceptions so that we will learn to better ourselves from old mistakes.

With that, I hope to see some form of reciprocal effort from my fellow Australians. It's not about knowing who Sir Don Bradman is or Phar Lap's record. Australia is more than a few innings and a bush pub. The fabric of her society is changing, come hail or shine. Australia cannot continue to want to be a player on a global platform yet refuse to embrace its complexities. It's more than just a word of sorry. The world is watching and a time in the future will surely arrive in which Australia just cannot stand alone. Then what? How do we define ourselves? What if we are in need of an outstretched hand but refuse to clasp it because we couldn't get over our own confusion in our identity?

This is not about White or Non-white supremacy. It's not about first in best dressed (otherwise I would be going non-stop on the rights and recognition of what's indigenous and what's native, the boat people and an entire can of worms will wriggle out). I am not going to ask anyone to leave because I don't see any point in aggression. I believe in awareness and how we can bring all to the table. It starts with a handshake. It begins with education. It's heck of a lot more work and angst but in the longer future, this is worth it.

Because by asking someone to leave, we are really taking something away from ourselves.

My Best Shots Of 2010... Tasting Life

2011-01-05T01:33:00.001+11:00

It's been a great third year running and I hope you have enjoyed the annual series as much as I have in keeping my eye sharpened out for a different angle every year. Hope that these photographs inspire you to seriously get out there to taste your slice of the world.

My Best Shots Of 2010... Stills

2011-01-05T01:10:00.000+11:00

My Best Shots Of 2010... Movements

2011-01-05T00:54:00.000+11:00

My Best Shots Of 2010... Moments

2011-01-05T00:33:00.001+11:00

My Best Shots Of 2010... Faith

2011-01-01T20:40:00.001+11:00

My Best Shots Of 2010... Colours

2011-01-01T19:28:00.002+11:00

The verdict is in and it has been a seriously generous year. Here is a look at the splashes of wonders that painted the passing world, enjoy with pleasure.

Where Would You Be This Year?

2010-12-31T15:31:00.001+11:00

Thanks to Nap. Hill, I want to ask you to join me in examining ourselves carefully and solemnly fill that glass with your brew, straighten your elf jacket, tip your hat forward, and toast to yourself to banish at least one if not all of these alibis that do nothing but limit our fullest potential in the next 365 days. Just think, imagine, the things you can do if you just stop believing these rubbish!

IF I didn't have a partner and family...
IF I had enough "pull"...
IF I had money...
IF I had a good education...
IF I could get a job...
IF I had good health...
IF I only had time...
IF times were better...
IF other people understood me...
IF conditions around me were only different...
IF I could live my life over again...
IF I did not fear what "They" would say...
IF I had been given a chance...
IF I now had a chance...
IF other people didn't "have it in for me"...
IF nothing happens to stop me...
IF I were only younger...
IF I could only do what I want...
IF I had been born rich...
IF I could meet "the right people"...
IF I had the talent that some people have...
IF I dared assert myself...
IF I only had embraced past opportunities...
IF people didn't get on my nerves...
IF I didn't have to keep house and look after the children...
IF I could save some money...
IF the boss only appreciated me...
IF I only had somebody to help me...
IF my family understood me...
IF I lived in a big city...
IF I could just get started...
IF I were only free...
IF I had the personality of some people...
IF I were not so far...
IF my talents were known...
IF I could just get a "break"...
IF I could only get out of debt...
IF I hadn't failed...
IF I only knew how...
IF everybody didn't oppose me...
IF I didn't have so many worries...
IF I could marry the right person...
IF people weren't so dumb...
IF my family were not so extravagant...
IF I were sure of myself...
IF luck were not against me...
IF I had not been born under the wrong star...
IF it were not true that "what is to be will be"...
IF I did not have to work so hard...
IF I hadn't lost my money...
IF I lived in a different neighbourhood...
IF I didn't have a "past"...
IF I only had a business of my own...
IF other people would only listen to me...
IF _____ and this is the greatest of them all...

Gee, don't you get tired even just reading those excuses? And we all get a choice to not listen to ourselves making it anymore. Start today, make a positive difference for yourself.

You deserve that much.

Australia, We Have Static!

2010-12-30T15:30:00.000+11:00

Wakey sunshine! The world's waiting...

Contact, that's.

I woke up peering out of a little fancy window that only commercial aircrafts admitting cattle-class ticket holders could bestow and saw the cutest rows of cauliflower clouds lining the bluest sky painted by the hands of heavens. A globe of gold cascaded like warm lava, bathing the early hours of our new home. My hair was ridiculously all over my face (no matter how hard I tried to brush them off) as I realised that this was going to be a new set of rules to things operating around me, including keeping my hair under control!

Get ready mates! This part of the adventure has just begun...

Hidden Gems

2010-12-29T15:25:00.000+11:00

As with all great mass movements since the epoch of science, things never really go according to a schedule. Sure, the animals and the winds are tuned to the magnetic and unseen draw of the forces that basically keep our planet in an upright position but Homo Sapiens never really gained an entry into that exclusive membership. So what do we do?

Improvise.

You can plan and get hung up by a thousand and one details and still arrive at the point of "duh!" because there will be (that I guarantee you) that one thing which somehow just escaped your radar - even if it was a badly timed and newly grown toe nail that went a milimetre too deep. I, on the other hand, prefer to keep my thousand and one to the Arabian Nights. Mind you, most of us, me included, succumbed easily to the wave of obsession with details and it took me a great deal to wean myself off that dependency. In turn, I focused on the urgent when everything (like anything) seemed important and I separated the real issues from the projected "what if"s.

Results?

You can more time (yes, believe it!) to pause when your little cousin-in-law gave you a hand-made card with strict instructions to only open it with a smile when you're on the plane, to bask in the heart-warming smiles and innocent honesty when they marveled at the flowered hair clip you had on your hair (to them, it's a big fashion statement, even if it meant as a last minute resort to you because all your other clips had grown legs and ran off), to be thankful that you didn't miss a moment of goodbye as you looked back at the taped video messages and the heartfelt phone calls from those far, and to realise albeit all the goods, bads, and warts, your family turned up to make sure that when you take that crucial step into the unknown beyond, you will always have a gathered scene of love, unity and heck, people missing and thinking about you when you look back from the boarding gate. And you for once, am glad for Skype because it's just such a cool way to stay connected live!

So, for one who's never good at blatant emotional goodbyes, I pretended to not say farewell. It's just a longer trip out and we're staking a claim of our own out in this little place. Journeys are like forked junctions, a toss of coin, a flip of a page. To not drag myself into a melancholy, here's a sneak into the packing process - fun, intense, messy, indecisive, and finally, that blessed sound of the zipper announcing all that can be done, is done.

At this point, I was totally relieved that at least one item is in the bag!

Nearly There...

2010-12-27T22:44:00.001+11:00

If you like to live your life by the edge of tattered pages (usually torn out by distressed hands driven by a high over-consumption of caffeine) then read on!

(1) Leave all and I mean, lock, stock and barrel of your important (this will mean you should get onto the wrong side of civil liberty if you choose to ignore your civil responsibilities) documentations that have any nano significance to do with the Ministry of Tax / Provident Funds / Stock trading proceeds / Banking / Nominations / Insurance (okay, some of the latter ones could mean you just get into more of the same situation that we call in loving exasperation "deep shit" when either a document goes missing / misplaced / sent to the wrong address / lost / and all your worst imagination come true;

(2) Get into the government offices during peak hour traffic on the last remaining working days of the year and only to run the lucky draw of having them experiencing a "technical down time" which renders the hard work you had put through to fight for a parking spot and waddled your way through the snaking queues to yesterday's dog dust;

(3) Or you could be cheeky and try to do most of your last minute account detail changing work WHILE you are on holiday in another state because you think that in the modern 21st Century, "everything should link up right?";

(4) Refer to item (3) and to be told that they need to charge you an additional RM10 even though you are withdrawing from your own account with all the documentation because they need to fax through a copy of your signature and oh, did we tell you that you need to return in the afternoon because we have to go for our lunch time now? So sorry Madam;

(5) You got most of your to-be-posted things packed into a fairly decent looking box (we didn't find it as the recycle guys beat us to it, instead we had to fork out some dole to buy one) only to be told that they don't do any normal surface shipment and the only option was to post it via express courier which came up to the same amount of the value of the contents;

(6) The box ends up sitting idle in the corner, awaiting its faith because apparently Malaysian Post needs the box to be tied by a string (any version looking looking like a knot will do) because the very expensive double-taped borders will absolutely not hold in the long, perilous journey to Australia... well, you guys are the expert;

(7) After endless rounds of driving (we probably had covered more than 1,500km in the last two weekends) we found that we were just not finishing covering all the names and places that we need to meet and greet;

(8) The laundry just never ends;

(9) We still have rubbish to throw out from the bins of things we sorted out; but

(10) The day ends well when you have your hubby's young cousin who had always been a shy violet, now opening up to you (we are talking head leaning on your shoulder, wanting to show you two 15-minute Youtube videos on sea waves because "you are important", coming for a post-bath cuddle, and insisting to do the Waka Waka dance for you) and telling you that you smell heavenly from your shower...

... the day's ended pretty good after all.

And yes, we did finally get all the addresses updated, bank drafts done, and I even got to have a few moments of bliss because somehow, the schedule had a way to work itself out and it is looking to be a chill-out night where we hang with the kids for some home cooked food and a predictable rendition of Nicholas Cage doing the Sorcerer's Apprentice.

All My Christmassy Love To Y'all!

2010-12-24T23:39:00.002+11:00

As I sit here in peace enjoying the quiet fall of rain in our "snowy winter wonderland" at my brother-in-law and sister-in-law's home (where we are celebrating Christmas this year), I am so grateful as my year ends with such meaning.

Hubby and I, singing to some jazzy old traditional Christmas songs while the most delicious French whiffs come oozing out from the kitchen with all the love and hard work of dear loved ones coming together to fuss over each other (even our little one isn't missing out of the fun as sister-in-law has bought a bottle of sparkling grape to toast!) with great company, home comfort and heaps of love, laughter and hugs as we spoil each other with gifts and the odd pop from the cork.

I've celebrated many a Christmas in forms of all and for one thing, this is one that I will always remember and with fond hope to the rest that are to come in the future.

God bless, Merry Christmas and a glorious New Year to all!

Playing The Backyard Tourist

2010-12-24T23:37:00.001+11:00

The drive took us up North on a misty day akin to one that had experienced a night-full of rain fall that only the blessed states of Malaysia could call normal. All along the highway we had our breath taken away by the simplest of Mother Nature's splendid spread of green and all things natural.

Rolling hills blended in with the towering mountainous horizons where your mind dreamed away into the calls of the elusive wild. The late morning sun hid modestly amongst the blanket of mist which lent a touch of whimsical to the throngs of traffic headed both ways. As we headed towards the island of Penang, we crossed first into the the great state of Perak in which we were transported back to our times in Yang Shuo, what not with the same protrusions of limestone that laid in front of us making all that seemed surrealistically holy so reachable yet far away enough to remain in an untouchable pristine condition. These rock-like camel humps, eagle heads, ancient coins resembled the many wonderful sculptures similar to the treasures off Koh Phi Phi's coastal territory.

A journey up to Penang is not just about the glorious food, its World UNESCO heritage status, the history, the mind-blowing assimilation of multiculturalism, and family. It was truly a trip in which the journey was made so much more meaningful because of its richness along the way as the highways cut through thoughtfully fields of pineapples, villages dotting acres of virgin green rice patches, traditional names bestowed upon our rivers like "Sungai Badak Mati" and innocently naughty ones for small famous towns like " Batang Berjuntai" (literally suggestive of something long, hard and jutting out in a provocative dangling manner... sorry mum) to the odd spotting of wild cats amongst the bursting crowds of banana trees and sombre stalks of bamboo covering the silhouette of water buffaloes swaggering back to their atap huts like leathery tanks retreating after a day's hard work in the muddy ponds.

Seeing for the first time something in your own backyard can be refreshingly stimulating when you drop the odd old critical glasses and throw yourself fully into a cove of treasures like a four-year old would in the playground. We did, and we saw so much more than all the school books tried to teach us in the many years in school.

Bless you Penang, my old dame. You rock and you are truly what a "One Malaysia" is about in all respect.

You can't begin Penang without a proper meal - bring on the Masala!

Literally, "we got everything"...

Music video on this street is seriously a religion

Catching some local lads... wait a minute - it's actually my hubby and my thambi!!!

Always a friendly face at every corner

The Waiting Game

2010-12-14T23:27:00.002+11:00

How much time do you set aside each day to play this game? We wait for just a few more minutes on the snooze button. We lumber along to sit on the porcelain throne. More minutes invested to wait for the toast to get it just right the second time.

Some like to warm up the car's engine. Mindless turning of the pages as you pretend to importantly catch up with the latest headlines in your train ride. Queuing up for that cup of takeaway Espresso. You lazily turn and watch in a sort of indifferent numbness at the snaking lines of cabs, cars, buses and cyclists all waiting for the lights. Sometimes green doesn't bestow any mercy should the peak hours get slightly too temperamental and you guess it, more waiting gets into the pipeline.

Oh you reach the office finally? Well done! Now, welcome to your second phase of waiting. The lift, the endless floors, your computer to boot up, your 0900 meeting. Should be a normal day before lunch time.

Anyway we face it, waiting is an impending game disastrously recognised as a required pest of modern times. I am pretty sure I can intelligently guess that there must had been some form of waiting in the primitive times but I can hardly be pressed to put together the vision of a caveman sitting with deathly focus upon the hunt swapping for the mindless "purpose-driven" lifestyle brought upon humanity by the convenience of invention and engineering.

Do we feel important waiting? Like I'm really-busy-can't-you-see waiting for my moronic nincompoop of a boss that serves a higher ambition in their lives in serving a permanent sentence to make sure we wait along the coffee which is getting stale in a cup inside that oh-so-important-glossy corporate meeting room. It's okay that I feel like an idiot but at least, hey, I look kind of important to the passing tea lady at the end of the corridor, right?

Or how about waiting for an unrequited love? Or chickening out in telling that girl of your dreams about how you feel despite all the self-help books cheering you on? What about the grieving spouse outside the operating theatre? How does one measure the patience of a mother yearning for the return of the prodigal son from his overseas studies?

Our dogs are waiting for their flight out into Australia to begin their 30-night quarantine. I must admit I'm already feeling the impending pang of emotions swirling somewhere between my throat and my brains. I miss them already even before they are on that plane! You do try to sneak in as many walks, snuggles, eye contact and silly moments of play as if the wait will be over. And for many of our family members, some of them had already turn the pages of goodbye with the silver linings of memories that these two amazing characters have brought into everyone's lives.

So maybe it's true. Some waits are important as they are in that moment. Waiting can be as fleeting as a passing moment that usually gets snuffed away like a dying flame when we are too busy moving on to pause and appreciate what real, meaningful waiting can translate into sometimes, some kind of a wonderful.

What A Visitor

2010-12-13T22:17:00.003+11:00

Or shall I say who? Well, turned out the person that I walked right into performing that night at Nuforico's was a good ol' backpacker mate we last caught up with in the chaos of Bishkek, Travis - the Chicago trained legal eagle with the deft strummers working the double bass he called his fingers. Hard-core smoker (think Camel, none of those filtered lights) and one to hold his drink beyond his palm.

It was such a surprise and what a performance too. Seeing Travis was like pinching your cheeks and confirming with a solemn nod that those crazy days up in the Sakura Inn was real. The dingy kitchen with the small turning radius and rotting basket of ginger and garlic was all not a figment of my imagination. That guy with the weird MJ hat who spoke perfect Tokyo-centric Japanese was a living creature. The lime green empty pool which the inn's owner's drunk husband spent his sober days scrubbing off those barnacles (they looked like it, so I decided to call them Chlorine Barnies) was well, very lime green and very empty.

We had established contacts with friends and rushed through a hectic drive down to Singapore, ate heaps of funny versions of the usual served fresh by our cousins from across the bridge, cringed through pedantic traffic and parking rules, survived the constant threat of fines, and ran through the "So, how does it feel to be back home after all these time?" with so much grace that I reckoned we would impress the Pope himself.

"You must have travelled around the world, huh?"

"Aren't you afraid of starting all over again?"

"So what are you going to do now?"

"Do you have a job yet?"

"Are you going to do it again?"

"Well done!"

"I admire you guys"

It's been one unbelievable page turner and seeing Travis, sharing messages with our mates who had concluded and / or continuing their adventures (thanks Facebook!) really led us to grasp the intensity of what we had done and also understood the bewilderment from the response to what we had done.

I suppose my short answer to the range of responses / questions (open-ended or otherwise) is the spirit of the travel is very truly alive even today. With the series of events that popped their heads into our weeks back I had gone through my own tumultuous path of rediscovering new facets of myself, learning new ideas, weaning off old ones (yes, you thought you would have shed them all behind when you were collecting visa chops on your passport!) and working through the at times, tiring but satisfying journey of making our way to Australia. It's one way of knowing that I am not zipping off an old life away for the new. This is very much a new me that's embracing the excitement of moving into a new phase of my life, redefining womanhood and the impending role of motherhood and the maturing of being a wife, getting a new opportunity to learn in a fresh career, finally hunting down that nest, sort of taking a slow enjoyable time pacing out the layers of paint of my favourite canvas while standing in the middle of a blooming poppy field... oh yeah, and my personalised picnic basket two steps away.

So, it all actually did happen huh?

And soon enough, who knows, maybe that poppy field picnic basket can happen too.

Hitting The Stables @ Month-end

2010-11-30T14:52:00.001+11:00

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!

2010-11-24T22:41:00.000+11:00

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!

2010-11-19T15:09:00.002+11:00

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!

2010-11-07T17:47:00.000+11:00

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

2010-11-07T16:47:00.000+11:00

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!

That Stinking Jacuzzi

2010-10-27T05:53:00.002+11:00

When a bus load of trust fund tourists turn up in a place, the streets come alive with a congregation of pilgrimage proportion once the touts have elbowed their way amidst angry shouts from the horse carriages and passing traffic. Everyone wants to sell you that piece of Papyrus scroll, help you to get some pyramid fridge magnets, convince you that you do really need someone "local" to guide you through the confusing maze of the city streets.

Fact is that you don't. Unless you have an Aunt Magda who insists on collecting fridge magnets, nobody is obligated to spend, least of all, to contribute to the vicious cycle of baksheesh.

So why does this menace persist?

Once you get beyond the irritation and the shame / guilt from staring back at the reflection in your mirror when you have calmed down from spitting like a roast coated with goose fat on a fire, you may perhaps develop just an inkling of compassion for the mess that you are most likely to forget once your plane homebound hits a safe distance of 35,000 feet above sea level, and the unscrewed mini bottle of Scotch has wound its way down your tract.

Not a good time to be a normal citizen of Egypt huh?

It's hard to fathom that a country this rich has to settle for its people something less charmed than a hot tub of bubbling enjoyment. Instead of a relaxed period of contentment and equal income distribution, the rich keeps getting filthily corrupted and the poor, well, they just keep getting more damned by the day. In short, it's like waking up with a really bad hangover and realising that you had witnessed a party gone all wrong where the music sucked, the DJ was an asshole, the party host had ran off with all the gifts and you're puking into that warm stinky water inside the jacuzzi, now messed up with the expulsion of bad beer and expired chips, all chomped down by everyone else not in the know or just didn't care, but completely too passed out - leaving you, the sober one, to either leave or to clean up.

Hubby and I had our fair share of observation throughout the week-long stay within the walls of the East Bank. This morning, I got news that the town council will be demolishing the church that laid along some sites marked for "touristic development". My mind ran frantically to the mosque that leaned casually on the wall of the Temple of Luxor. I knew it's local election time for the Congress but to go this far for a cheap vote?

We trespassed mountains of cat urine mixed potently with their more solid excretion. The dogs? These emaciated beings look on in a sorry glance at the uncaring passer-bys. Who could blame them? The latter barely had enough to feed themselves but surely sufficient (at least for the working males) to drown their sorrows and angst in rolls of hashish.

The buildings looked adorned only because of the political party posters. The streets were just teetering on the border of a cowboy town. Police force was recognised as an official measure of extortion. The locals refused to speak up freely, looking bewildered and haunted with the look of a believer that the walls indeed have ears. You can't even head out to the glitzy diving haven of Sharm El-Sheikh without documenting a legitimate reason because your President doesn't want to see "poorer" locals spoiling the projected lifestyle of the "rich and famous" so enthusiastically marketed by his cronies for his cronies.

The look of many men squatting outside on the streets at night - waiting like an addict for the pain to subside

What's the whole point when you just see no way of escaping this tunnel? The pyramids, tombs and temples bankrolled free money that nobody really care because they are too focused on the big boys' moolah coming in from the Suez Canal. What is theirs to care about? We hardly see them. Now the Canal? Yeah, maybe that can change, right?

Oh yes, the government needs the tourist money to build roads and schools. Egypt is a growing population. A child is born every 20 seconds, so they claimed. So yes, that is the reason that they have closed off the Nefertari's Tomb unless you can fork out 4,000 LE to spend 10 minutes looking at one of the greatest treasures of Egypt that should have belonged to the people. Oh trust the antiquities expert, they know.

The diggers? They get paid U$6 per day to work in the hot sun excavating loose burning stones with their hands and wicker basket. Who paid? Oh, the visiting American Universities and their archaeological departments' funding. Our government really kept mum about the whole thing. The guards there? It's really to run after you to fan you for a bit of baksheesh. The semi-automatic gun? Don't worry, just in case some terrorist attack is revived, perhaps he's in a position to switch off his mobile phone, and if you are lucky, runs off to the nearest reporting booth to call for help. But that's if the terrorists haven't bribed him off yet. So no promises.

Why the houses don't have completed roofs? Because we'll be levied a 40% tax upon completion. Yes, you read me right. Let me put down my tea. That's why you see all these satellites jutting out of the roofs. We hardly get any rain anyway. Will I pay capital gains tax when I sell? I really don't know because I don't think I can sell it anyway...

How much does a roll cost? A normal one is about 150 LE. We, the five of us, split our costs for the better tasting 500 LE. Everyone smokes it every night. It keeps the thinking away from the pain. The women? Maybe sometimes they help out to spike the teas because well, don't tell anyone, but the sons make a profit luring unsuspecting visitors to their places to get to know the Egyptian culture a tad better. We aren't assholes, we are just desperate.

What's the whole point? I see pain and distress everywhere. I don't see the treasures and all the glossy brochures promise me in an unforgettable trip of a lifetime. I don't regret stretching my stay here but part of me, the weaker human part - can't wait to get on that train tomorrow night and head off to Cairo to catch my flight back home.

Anywhere but here.