Will eat for love

As boring as it may sound, I spent my my 31st birthday with my parents :) No getting drunk, no running away, no mad hats and kissing girls. Just eating lots with my beloved parents and family :) It sounds weird, but my family are feeders.

We talk about food when we wake up, we talk about food one meal ahead, we eat between meals, and we talk about food before we sleep. My fondest childhood memories are of eating hawker food late at night with my Mum, Dad and brothers. My Mum helping me to squat and pee in a monsoon drain after supper (ssssh, don't tell my future employers that I can do the oriental squat!).

Instead of the Maccas scale to judge the standard of living in different countries, we have the crab scale.

Chilli crabs in Singapore:


Chilli and curry crabs in Thailand (sorry, forgot to take a pic!)

Salty egg (Haam Daan) crabs in Cambodia -

Which country had the best value crab meal?

WEEEELL....
Biggest crab ever, goes to Singapore Chilli Crabs.
Err, with crabs from Sri Lanka. HUUUUGEN:

Best value for money, Thai crabs. Cheap as chips! 2 mud crabs for next to nothing in Baht (again, sorry no pix).

Tastiest crab goes to CAAAMBODIA :) Which surprisingly has a lot of really good seafood. For exorbitant US prices. More on that later.

Here's what my Dad told me on the last day of our holiday together - "What do you want to eat? CRAB. PRAWNS. Because I know you're not going to have the same in Rondon! You will never find this in Rondon!"

My Dad was right. Best. Birthday. Ever.

(Followed very closely by the time the dFs, B, He Who Shall Not Be Named and I went mental for a week :) )

Here are the other foodie pix from Singapore (where a brilliant laksa cost me less than 2 squids) and Cambodia.

THAT laksa:

Char Kway Teow:

Teow Chew Braised Duck:

Kway-Something-Something, it came with the Braised Duck:

Tofu, simple and honest :)

Foodcourt Rojak and dang it was good:

Durian, the KING of fruit.
Smells like a public toilet, tastes like heaven...
(to be honest, I loooooves the smell)

My birthday dinner of Steamboat with every luxurious seafood available:

(there's abalone in there)

The best fish head curry on banana leaf in Singapore:

The pippies (la la) I haven't had for years because it's not sold in Rondon:

The boat noodles I had by the side of the floating markets:

The riskiest thing I did in BKK...
Eat fly-infested noodles (before I found the more hygienic noodles above)
THE DAY BEFORE T&D's wedding:

Nom nom nom... The Cambodian grouper:

The mangosteens. HELL the fruit in general:


So yeah, I took more pix of food than anything else ;P
(THANK YOU LI,
ESPECIALLY FOR LETTING ME EAT DURIAN
IN YOUR APARTMENT
*grin* *MUAH* )

My new niece

Olivia Catherine Liew :) I'm joyous the day of. And I'm grieving the day of. Conflicting emotions and I can guarantee you that it's confusing the crap out of me.

I cried my heart out on the day I heard my new niece arrived *le sigh*

Still, I'd like you to see my new niece :)
(Tell me that's not a good enough reason to mate with a whitey ;) )

Dad's love story

Last night I remembered it was Wesak Day and I dropped my parents' an email to wish them a happy wedding anniversary. This morning I noticed a reply from my Dad, but didn't have time to read it before I left for work. So I downloaded it onto my iPhone and read it on the train. I got a little weepy and discreetly tried to wipe my tears away as I read my Dad's words. I blame my dang hormones, it's that time of the month :P Here's what my Dad wrote in his reply:

* Kung Kung == Grandpa
* Por Por == Grandma
* park tor == going on dates

"Wesak day changes every year, like the Chinese New Year. We were officially married (exchanged vows, rings and registered) at the Selangor Marriage registry on 26th SEPT 1970. I think nobody was at the registry except your Kung Kung and one of Mum’s friends. They acted as witnesses. We did not have our formal ceremonial/customary wedding until 9th MAY 1971 (Wesak day) i.e. wedding gowns, tea ceremony, dinner (we had lunch instead because dinners in most restaurants/hotels were booked out), etc. I think the date was chosen by your Por Por.

At the registry, names of bride and groom have to be displayed in a public notice board for several weeks for any public comments/objections before the marriage could be registered. The marriage certificate meant money, because as army officers we get maid’s allowance, housing allowance, ration allowance, water and electricity allowance, phone allowance, transport allowance, family holiday transport allowance (remember riding 1st class train to Penang?), uniform allowance, etc. Added up together, a married officer would get more than double the salary of a single officer!

And you know what? I could not recognize the registration clerk at the registry, but he recognized me. He said that we had met before playing mahjong at a friend’s place. So he fast tracked (could only be approved by the State chief minister) our registration without having to pay a fee.

After registration, Mum moved out of the nurses’ hostel and I moved out of the army officers’ mess. We stayed in a rented bungalow house paid for by the army, near her hospital. Prior, I’ve visited the nurses’ hostel so very often that the receptionist when she saw me coming in the corridor would call Mum’s room ES109 (I think this was the number) to say that I was waiting. Gosh! You should see Mum’s favourite hair style. Combed fluffy down, end curled and rolled outwards at neck’s length.

By the way, Mum and I met and attended a university ball/dance (annual?? Not sure) on a blind date in 1968. (Believe it or not I was quite good dancer). I think she came with her friend who was the witness at the marriage registry. So we “park tor” almost every day after that. To do that I had a quickie army driving license to prove that I had done an army driving test (which I never did) to get a civilian driving license immediately, driving Kung Kung’s new car to date your Mum. Later, we shared and bought our first car, a second hand Morris through uncle David who was then a manager in a car company (Wearne’s Brothers??).

To think of it, age is catching up, and I think Mum and I should sit down some days and write our childhood stories, so that you guys can compare the type of life our generation had with yours and probably Sage’s too. There’s so much of differences in the lifestyle, particularly the boys. Anyway hope I’m not boring you with the above story but at least now you know how your Mum and Dad met and became man and wife for the last 38 years!

Love
Dad"

Happy 1st Birthday Sagey

Aunty Reenie hearts you :) She's the main reason I'm here.

Sagey Milestone

Sagey's first online chat with me :)

Soon followed by Sagey's first webcam experience. I can't wait to see her in Feb :)

Currently...

Missing my Mum :(

Strangely, she's the one reason I would consider going back to Sydnery for at the moment. 29 days sure seem to have went by pretty fast.

"That's not my ice-cream..."

"... it's Mum's!"
(says Dad as he steals a bit :) )

Mai tan!

Me: "Daaad, you can't say that in France! It's L'addision!"
Dad: "Why not? This is a Vietnamese restaurant."
Me: "Yeah, and they speak French and Vietnamese!"

Strangely enough though, the waiter understood and brought us the bill. I suspect it's because my Dad also did the universal hand signal for, "bill please" ;)

Paris with my parents turned out better than I expected :) My Mum would be silly with me, and my Dad... he's the one responsible for my sense of humour *grin* My favourite moments were watching the Aussie vs Wales rugby match infront of Hotel de Ville with my Dad, and making my Mum pose for me in a beret *grin*

My Dad's snap-happiness:

My Mum's favourite French icon:

And check out what someone did to this poor dog!

Braaaaains...

Remember how I mentioned caucasians cringe at orientals eating chicken feet? WELL, I was cringing whilst watching the Frenchies buy this at Marché Bastille:

I always thought it was just a zombie delicacy *grin*

It's hilarious hanging out with my parents in an European city. Especially with my Dad. He has a way of finding the Malaysian/oriental equivalent for whatever he sees. So paella, becomes nasi lemak, and churros becomes yau ja gwai! *lol* I thought it was going to be difficult finding food for my Dad to eat in Paris. Luckily, there's a great Viet area around Place d'Italie, Avenue d'Ivry and Avenue Choisy. That's a tip for any other orientals taking their strictly "oriental food only" folks to Paris :P

Grand bowls of Pho *MmmM*

Thanks Ms K, for pointing me in Le Bambou's direction :) It was packed and we had to wait awhile, and the restaurant manager was laughing at us cause we couldn't speak Viet or French, but it was also dang good Pho :) Just how good is this restaurant? Well, it makes the owner rich enough to be able to afford lots of jade bling. I'm talking BIG jade bling. Doesn't come cheap.

The next challenge, is trying to find food my Dad will eat in Rome next weekend. That's going to be trickier.

Happy Birthday Mum!

I watched my parents at dinner. I love the fact that my Dad will always pick a juicy bit of crab or lobster and deshell it for my Mum. I love how my Dad, for the first time in all his life, opened the car door for my Mum tonight *lol*

My parents, don't openly show affection in public. I've only ever seen my parents hold hands once. So it's really cute when things like the above happens :)

High tea @ The Lanesborough

Best cakes and scones I've had at a high tea so far... I also introduced my parents to clotted cream :)

Heritage

One of the positive things that have come out of my parents' visit, is the tidbits of info I get fed about my family history. My grandma has two names. My grandma's brother had three wives, two of whom were jealous of my grandma. My grandpa's brother cheated the family with dealings on the chicken farm. My Dad sold eggs from the chicken farm. My Dad was born in a hut. My great-grandpa owned a small grocer shop but was stingy. Everything was lost during the war. Great-grandpa was an opium addict. My grandma pawned her jewellery to afford food for the family. My grandma caned anyone who slept in past 8am. My grandpa caned anyone who didn't do well at school.

Different times.

I love my parents, and I love having them here, and we joke lots (loudly, in Chinese, mainly about our bowel movements, the Pope, and the Queen). However, at the same time, they're driving me nuts :P NUTS, I tell you, NUTS. Yet, I look at them, and realise that so much of who I am comes from who they are, and how they've been brought up. So if you don't like anything about me, you know who to blame ;)

I think a lot about what sort of person my niece will grow up to be. Sadly, I don't think she'll get the same exposure to my culture and heritage. Not saying I'm an expert on all things oriental, if anything I feel like I've missed out on a lot. But at least I had a chance to experience some of it growing up - temple visits, ancestry worship, gods & goddesses 101, oriental festivals... It'll be interesting to see the next generation of my clan grow up anyway.

Different times.

Reverting to childhood

6:25am (5 mins of snooze time left before my alarm goes off)
Dad: "Girlie, wake up"
Me: "Mmmffffmmm"
Dad: "Mum, you better wake Girlie up"
Mum kicks me
Me: "MMMMMMPPHFHFFFFF"
Dad: "Girlie, it's time to wake up!"
Me: "YES DAD"

I'm 7 years old again. It's time to wake up and get ready for school... At least this time round, I can avoid the yucky half-boiled egg slime for brekky :)

M&D

A continental brekky at Le Pain

M&D flew in last night, and although I spent the first night on the sofa bed, Mum kept insisting I sleep in the same room. So here I am. I think the last time I slept in the same room as my parents, I was about 12 years old. I feel 12 again :)

Only this time, I'm prepared...

1 x pair foam earplugs!

My Dad's in denial and blames my Mum. The truth is, he's been snoring up a thunderstorm for the past few decades! As males get older, the snoring gets louder. Weird but undeniable truth of life. Chubby never use to snore when he was a puppy :P

It's funny being in Rondon with them. It doesn't matter that I'm 28 years old, I still want to do _everything_ right by them. I'm worried about what to feed them, what to show them, where to take them, whether my room's clean enough for them! I'm a slob. I'll admit it. I wallow in my own mess. Even now, the mess hasn't really been cleaned, it's just been shoved under the bed *grin* BUT, I did vacuum and mop AND, most hated chore of all - clean the toilet! No complaints from M&D about my cleanliness so far *phew*

I did try and broach the topic of my latest tattoo with my Dad.
Me: "Mum, did you tell Dad about my tattoo?"
(Yeah, I've been too chicken to tell my Dad. I was hoping my Mum would do it for me :P )
Mum: "No, but your brother started talking about it, and I gave him looks. So I think Dad knows, but he didn't ask."
Me: "Oh..."
*Later on*
Me: "Dad, erm, do you want to see my new tattoo?"
Dad: "YOU ARE COVERED WITH TATTOOS! DON'T KNOW WHY YOU GET THEM!"
Me: "It's only two!"
I've taken Dad's response as a sign of, "better not go there" :P

Time to test those earplugs out :)

Marriage?

I thought I was off the hook. I'm the youngest of three kids. My eldest brother is married. He and his wife recently had a baby girl. So when I called my Mum for a chat on Monday, I never expected to have this conversation with her:

Mum: "You're getting close to 30, my dear."
Me: "I know. So what?"
Mum: "It's time you got married."
Me: "WHAT?!?"
Mum: "Do you want me to matchmake for you?"
Me: "WHAT?!?!? Who have you been talking to??"
Mum: "If you have a husband, you won't have time to go gallivanting."
Me: "MUM! You already have one grandkid to play with!"

So, I'm closer to 30. That apparently means I have to get married. Mygawd, the thought of my Mother picking someone for me... *shudder* It's weird actually. Last year, it was all about weddings. The majority of my friends got hitched. This year, it's beginning to be all about babies. Friends are starting to talk about getting the right healthcare with obstetrician cover. In the meantime, I've been spending my money on holidays, tattoos, clubs, and err, teeth whitening (*dazzle* *dazzle*). Weddings, mortgages, babies... Last thing on my mind. I'm a little selfish at the moment. Not ready to settle. Love my freedom. Rah rah rah.

In order to get my Mother's mind off marrying me to a random stranger, I'm switching the focus to my bachelor brother :P Anyone out there looking for a very eligible 32 year old bachelor? Has good looks (well, he's got the same genes as me). Loves to cook Italian. Go on, make my Mother happy :)

Missy Wan, don't think you're going to win the bet so easily :P

Not mine

As you can probably tell from my awkward baby hold, this one, ain't mine *grin* I've never had a hungry baby suck at my neck before. Or spew milk down my back. Somehow, it's just cuter when the baby's blood related. Normally, I'd be like, "YAAARGH!", now it's all, "AWWWWWW...."

Nope, I'm still not feeling clucky. If anything, I'm panicking everytime little Sagey cries.
Me: "What's wrong? Do you want Mummy? Or Daddy? Are you hungry? Are you pooping? Am I holding you wrong? DON'T CRY!!!" *frantic helpless look at my brother and sis-in-law*

Welcome...

When you're 18, I hope I'm still hip and cool enough to be your favourite aunt :)

At the very least, I'm pulling out this blog entry, putting it into a powerpoint presentation and showing it to your friends at your 21st :P

Tiger soup

Well, I showed my Dad the picture of Snake Vodka. Disturbingly he replied, "believe it or not, Mum has given all of you TIGER soup to drink". What the?!? My Mum's comment on the topic is, "Don't you remember you had Tiger soup, best for Asthma. Your Uncle went hunting and made Tiger soup." I guess Tiger soup is better than the "hairless baby rat soaked in brandy and gulped down with raw chicken egg" remedy my Dad was telling me about.

"Eat endangered animal" is now unintentionally on my list of achievements.

3 Months

3 months is:
... 1/4 year or
... 1 trimester or
... 1 work probation period or
... 1st milestone in a relationship or
... the time passed since I left Sydney.

Yes, I do have a job. Hrm, that's all I'm going to say about it. I really don't want to rant about work in this blog. The more time I spend in Rondon, the more I realise I didn't really come here for the work opportunities. It's more about lifestyle and travel for me.

It's been a hard 3 months. Made slightly easier by having close friends and PIMMS around. Everybody tells you it's easy. Finding a job is easy. Finding a place to live is easy. Money is easy. Wrong wrong wrong. I haven't found anything _that_ easy in Rondon. Even picking up my bankcard was hard. Getting my bankcard was like entering the Twilight Zone. You're told to go to a floor. On the floor, there's a room. Nobody's there. So you enter, and sit, and wait. Other people start filtering in, each instinctively sitting down in the room with you. You all wait together, not saying a word, remembering your place in the queue. Who's before you? Who's after you? Not really knowing what to do. Eventually someone comes and gets you. They give you a 5 minute fast-talking spiel about paying more to upgrade your card. You decline the offer, get your card and get out of there as fast as possible.

The one constant that's always made my day brighter, is my tech-savvy Mum :) When I was unemployed, she'd log onto Gmail Chat and keep me entertained for hours. Well, the hours outside of "Home and Away" anyway. I'll never regret teaching my Mum how to use email 6 years ago (I wrote her an 8 page document with step-by-step instructions and screenshots). Now she emails, Googles, SMS's and chats online constantly! Next step is to set her up with a webcam :)

I <3>

This evening B and I signed a lease and picked up keys. We move in on Saturday. One step closer to normality :)

Lavenham

First things first, my Aunt Laura took me here on the weekend:

*Lol* She doesn't understand why I had to take a picture. It was seriously the first thing I saw when we got into town. Secondly, my first taste of clotted cream!
Yes yes, I know it's another post about food. But how many of you have even heard of clotted cream before? :P Here's a house circa 18th century:
And this is my completely nutty Aunt Laura. I love her to bits!