Some people noticed that I have been in a particularly morose mood in the last couple of months. I think in times of stress, I become particularly introspective. I had a lot of thoughts to sort through, not to mention having to come to terms with my feelings regarding the work situation and the move. Which is why keeping a blog is handy as is going to church. One helps me commmunicate my thoughts, another helps me sort them out.
I can literally sit by myself all day and just think if I weren't careful. Luckily, I found distraction in furnishing my new Singapore flat - where ever it may be....and in accumulating kitchenalia; and in cooking; taking photos; running in greenwich park and in doing yoga.
Only a couple of people were really able to push through my mental fog over the last couple of months. One is a colleague who is going through exactly the same thing at work. I think through our chats, usually over yahoo or lunch at an old man's pub, we were able to scrape each other off the floor and dust down. Now we both are starting to feel unbeaten, undefeated and ready to take on the next thing. I managed to invite the colleague to church so we'll see where that goes. This is my best friend at work, having worked closely with each other for seven years - half our working careers. We will be like separated twins when I leave but we have agreed to keep in touch. Maybe someday we will work together again.
A couple of other people made it their job to check that I am doing ok. Calling regularly and being available for me to ask advice on various aspects of the move whether regarding accommodation in SG, my crazy kitchenalia accumulation, even how to back up my Macbook.
There were a couple of surprises as well. Like a trader suddenly sending yahoos out of the blue to give unsolicited advice on the property market in Singapore - buy in the $1m to $2m range he says. Yeah.....There were various other random acts of kindness and attention. Even from near strangers - like my landlord who came and fixed my curtain hooks, fixed the washing machine and mopped my kitchen floor even though I was moving out. My family is sterling as usual. And then there are the enthusiastically pre-emptive invites to dinners in SG. Oh yes, I even had one out-of-the-blue offer of significant financial help.
I examined my feelings and I think this feels like I am breaking up with someone I love, not just moving a location. The poetic, melodramatic part of me mourns the passing of a eight year love story, not just with the city, but with my job, my friends and my home. I am not sure where this kind of thing stands on a global scale of stress, but at a stressful time at least for me, thanks to you, I don't feel at all lonely.
Monday, 30 May 2011
VIP treatment
Farewell parties were held over the last 2 weeks. On 19th May, I put my card behind the bar at Henry Addingtons for 15 of my colleagues. An old man's pub - spit and sawdust as they say. It was an intimate affair, everyone there know each other well. There were more than enough budvars and Chilean Sendara Sauvignon Blanc to go round. I had fun playing the social butterfly and talking to everyone at the party. We all drank loads and went home at about 11pm. Best of all, the boss went and exchanged my credit card for his.
I was told by Phil to keep 23rd May free in the evening. The event itself was kept secret from me till Paddy accidentally blabbed on the Friday before that we were going to have dinner. I still didn't know who were going or where till Monday itself. Phil invited the longest serving members of the team to dinner - Eugenio, Rich, Nick and Paddy. We had a very nice dinner at Plateau, everyone paying their own way. The conversation were mostly nostalgic, harking back to the stories of way back when, the newest member of this bunch joined in 2005, so we have known each other for 6 years, most of us still in the same team except for Nick. The guys were extremely sweet and I felt like a VIP. Plateau is one of my favourite restaurants, Phil remembered that. We had whiskey after dinner, there were no speeches, I did not want a speech. I will miss the guys. It wasn't always easy being the only female in a team of men for almost 4 years before Masiel joined. These guys treated me like one of them and when I was promoted, treated me like the boss.
On 27th May, Paddy bought me lunch - just me and him at Jamie's Kitchen. I tried Pasta Puttanesca so I know what Jamie Oliver thought was the right level of pungent. The in the evening, it was farewell dinner with the gals at the Artisan at Westbury hotel. I organised it and found this place as a deal on Toptable. It was very posh, with art deco furnishings - like Plateau, hmmm, there is a theme... - and amuse bouche after every course. The food was amazing but the company was better. Evangeline, Karen, Alison and Sara. Everyone but Sara has now booked time to come visit in Singapore. Alison in Nov, Karen over Christmas and Evangeline over Chinese New Year. It makes me feel good that I will be seeing them soon again after landing in Singapore. I hope I will have no time to miss London.
Evangeline was very sweet in insisting she help me paint the town red over the long weekend. So on 29th May, the two of us dressed up for dinner at L'Atelier de Joel Robuchon. He of two michelin stars. Dinner cost an arm and a leg, especially since Evangeline made sure we sauced it up with pre and post dinner lychee cocktails and cosmopolitans. We also had both white and red wine to match our courses of tapas - O'Rosal Rais Baxias with Grilled razor clams with shallot butter, Le Oeuf and Langostine Ravioli; and Cote De Ventoux with duck confit, stuffed guinea fowl and pig trotter on parmesean toast. Riesling with Yuzu Souffle and Gurwuztramminer with Mandarin Sorbet. I must have spouted a lot of rubbish as I can't remember what we were talking about from the fourth course onwards. It was a great night and the sophisticated restaurant setting gave the farewell meal every feeling of being in the capital city of the world.
And here I am, all stuffed and alcohol preserved with much kind regards. I didn't shed a single tear which is excellent. Think I am feeling a bit numb to it now. I have said goodbye to my closest and dearest people, places and things.
I was told by Phil to keep 23rd May free in the evening. The event itself was kept secret from me till Paddy accidentally blabbed on the Friday before that we were going to have dinner. I still didn't know who were going or where till Monday itself. Phil invited the longest serving members of the team to dinner - Eugenio, Rich, Nick and Paddy. We had a very nice dinner at Plateau, everyone paying their own way. The conversation were mostly nostalgic, harking back to the stories of way back when, the newest member of this bunch joined in 2005, so we have known each other for 6 years, most of us still in the same team except for Nick. The guys were extremely sweet and I felt like a VIP. Plateau is one of my favourite restaurants, Phil remembered that. We had whiskey after dinner, there were no speeches, I did not want a speech. I will miss the guys. It wasn't always easy being the only female in a team of men for almost 4 years before Masiel joined. These guys treated me like one of them and when I was promoted, treated me like the boss.
On 27th May, Paddy bought me lunch - just me and him at Jamie's Kitchen. I tried Pasta Puttanesca so I know what Jamie Oliver thought was the right level of pungent. The in the evening, it was farewell dinner with the gals at the Artisan at Westbury hotel. I organised it and found this place as a deal on Toptable. It was very posh, with art deco furnishings - like Plateau, hmmm, there is a theme... - and amuse bouche after every course. The food was amazing but the company was better. Evangeline, Karen, Alison and Sara. Everyone but Sara has now booked time to come visit in Singapore. Alison in Nov, Karen over Christmas and Evangeline over Chinese New Year. It makes me feel good that I will be seeing them soon again after landing in Singapore. I hope I will have no time to miss London.
Evangeline was very sweet in insisting she help me paint the town red over the long weekend. So on 29th May, the two of us dressed up for dinner at L'Atelier de Joel Robuchon. He of two michelin stars. Dinner cost an arm and a leg, especially since Evangeline made sure we sauced it up with pre and post dinner lychee cocktails and cosmopolitans. We also had both white and red wine to match our courses of tapas - O'Rosal Rais Baxias with Grilled razor clams with shallot butter, Le Oeuf and Langostine Ravioli; and Cote De Ventoux with duck confit, stuffed guinea fowl and pig trotter on parmesean toast. Riesling with Yuzu Souffle and Gurwuztramminer with Mandarin Sorbet. I must have spouted a lot of rubbish as I can't remember what we were talking about from the fourth course onwards. It was a great night and the sophisticated restaurant setting gave the farewell meal every feeling of being in the capital city of the world.
And here I am, all stuffed and alcohol preserved with much kind regards. I didn't shed a single tear which is excellent. Think I am feeling a bit numb to it now. I have said goodbye to my closest and dearest people, places and things.
Sunday, 29 May 2011
Noah's Ark
In the light of the coming flood (read 'move'), I have decided to call home furnishings, kitchenware and summer clothing to the ark to keep them safe.
Dining sets enough for a party of 20, chest of drawers, art, COOKBOOKS...alot of cookbooks. They have been saved and are now in the ark, awaiting journey to Singapore....and there are more animals coming.
Dining sets enough for a party of 20, chest of drawers, art, COOKBOOKS...alot of cookbooks. They have been saved and are now in the ark, awaiting journey to Singapore....and there are more animals coming.
Friday, 20 May 2011
Let the Road Teach You
3"You're blessed when you're at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.
4"You're blessed when you feel you've lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.
5"You're blessed when you're content with just who you are—no more, no less. That's the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can't be bought.
6"You're blessed when you've worked up a good appetite for God. He's food and drink in the best meal you'll ever eat.
7"You're blessed when you care. At the moment of being 'care-full,' you find yourselves cared for.
8"You're blessed when you get your inside world—your mind and heart—put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.
9"You're blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That's when you discover who you really are, and your place in God's family.
Matt 5 (MSG)
Tuesday, 17 May 2011
The Snail
I can't recall the whole article but I read a very interesting piece once on how people relate to their homes.
Some people, for example see their home as their lounge, it is where they entertain, the base from which they extend their social network. These people tend to have immaculate, flashy homes from which to impress. People are always invited round.
There are those who see their homes as tents. Always seeing it as just one of many future dwellings. How they decorate is unsentimental. Everything can be chucked without much care in that event that a quick getaway or a big career move is required.
Then there are those who have their homes as the office. It is an extension of their operative selves. Neat, functional, efficient, fully equipped. Home exists to make life easy.
Some people see home more traditionally, a retreat to which the family gathers. Memories and mementos litter the place. It is cosy, every bit of furnishing provides comfort.
Yet another group sees their home as their bunker. Where they escape to, only the most trusted are allowed to enter and it's secrets they must keep. The doors are always shut, privacy is very important. No prying eyes.
I am in the last two groups. I am a snail. I exist within a shell of my home, I will feel extremely naked without it.
Nothing in my home is overly expensive, my home itself is humble. It is full of things that I and perhaps only I appreciate (a deep kitchen sink and a window in the bathroom). It is testament to God's faithfulness to me that this place was found without any effort, right on time when I needed it and every bit of it, including the cost of it suited me and just me perfectly. I have perhaps the best flat, ie has the best view, in an ex-council (very low class) building in what is perhaps the most prestigious private estate in Southeast London. The best bit is the heating is free, automatically turned on too high and virtually impossible for me to adjust down. I lived in sub-tropical temperature through the cold weather guilt-free. There is even carpet in the bathroom so I won't be cold ever. The hot water shower is amazing for a non-power basic bathroom. I love the plain white square tiles in the bathroom. Every wall and cabinet is in white, every room has a large window with a fantastic view of greenery. Yet, no neighbours can look into my flat. Even the really old fixtures in the flat - like the 70s window shutters and old-fashioned glass-panelled doors were like major architectural features for me, even if they were junk to everyone else. Foxes in the garden for interest. Birds wake me naturally in the morning. I smell wood and flowers as I walk into the compound, sometimes the lavendar is in bloom and I smell those. Other times it's tulips or roses. As I walk home from the station, I walk on a street full of beautiful wisteria covered mansion houses, the moon shining brightly through the trees usually.
I will really miss my home.
Some people, for example see their home as their lounge, it is where they entertain, the base from which they extend their social network. These people tend to have immaculate, flashy homes from which to impress. People are always invited round.
There are those who see their homes as tents. Always seeing it as just one of many future dwellings. How they decorate is unsentimental. Everything can be chucked without much care in that event that a quick getaway or a big career move is required.
Then there are those who have their homes as the office. It is an extension of their operative selves. Neat, functional, efficient, fully equipped. Home exists to make life easy.
Some people see home more traditionally, a retreat to which the family gathers. Memories and mementos litter the place. It is cosy, every bit of furnishing provides comfort.
Yet another group sees their home as their bunker. Where they escape to, only the most trusted are allowed to enter and it's secrets they must keep. The doors are always shut, privacy is very important. No prying eyes.
I am in the last two groups. I am a snail. I exist within a shell of my home, I will feel extremely naked without it.
Nothing in my home is overly expensive, my home itself is humble. It is full of things that I and perhaps only I appreciate (a deep kitchen sink and a window in the bathroom). It is testament to God's faithfulness to me that this place was found without any effort, right on time when I needed it and every bit of it, including the cost of it suited me and just me perfectly. I have perhaps the best flat, ie has the best view, in an ex-council (very low class) building in what is perhaps the most prestigious private estate in Southeast London. The best bit is the heating is free, automatically turned on too high and virtually impossible for me to adjust down. I lived in sub-tropical temperature through the cold weather guilt-free. There is even carpet in the bathroom so I won't be cold ever. The hot water shower is amazing for a non-power basic bathroom. I love the plain white square tiles in the bathroom. Every wall and cabinet is in white, every room has a large window with a fantastic view of greenery. Yet, no neighbours can look into my flat. Even the really old fixtures in the flat - like the 70s window shutters and old-fashioned glass-panelled doors were like major architectural features for me, even if they were junk to everyone else. Foxes in the garden for interest. Birds wake me naturally in the morning. I smell wood and flowers as I walk into the compound, sometimes the lavendar is in bloom and I smell those. Other times it's tulips or roses. As I walk home from the station, I walk on a street full of beautiful wisteria covered mansion houses, the moon shining brightly through the trees usually.
I will really miss my home.
Contrasting Clarity
Clarity
Was I thinking so loudly?
A heart absorbs the absurd
on a regular basis.
Primordial fears and poisoned
skies are
stage smoke;
but fragrant whispers from
your skin are
open windows
on relief.
And I see,
and I laugh:
I
know
nothing.
- Anna Piutti.
Clarity
my will or thy will
it brings me to that always
my ego or thy ego
letting go or letting be
how do I choose the wise path
this eternal conflict bates me
clarity comes like dawn
slowly it rises
above all the emotion
patience
-raskin
It comes to this. Clarity, denial and blindness come together, usual bed-fellows comfortably familiar. In the deepest shroud, there is awareness. In the lightest being there is fog. Ambition he led me, he owned me, giving me vision heated, sharp, all-consuming, i measure up measure UP; yet I knew nothing. Now I can see clearly, clearly alone, incorrigible, perhaps just on my own.
- babble; berkeley
Do Not Delay; Opportunity Knocks Once
I went to sleep, but my heart stayed awake. [I dreamed that I heard] the voice of my beloved as he knocked [at the door of my mother's cottage]. Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my spotless one [he said], for I am wet with the [heavy] night dew; my hair is covered with it.
But weary from a day in the vineyards, I had already sought my rest, I had put off my garment--how could I [again] put it on? I had washed my feet--how could I [again] soil them?
My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, and my heart was moved for him. I rose up to open for my beloved, and my hands dripped with myrrh, and my fingers with liquid [sweet-scented] myrrh, [which he had left] upon the handles of the bolt.
I opened for my beloved, but my beloved had turned away and withdrawn himself, and was gone! My soul went forth [to him] when he spoke, but it failed me [and now he was gone]! I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.
But weary from a day in the vineyards, I had already sought my rest, I had put off my garment--how could I [again] put it on? I had washed my feet--how could I [again] soil them?
My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, and my heart was moved for him. I rose up to open for my beloved, and my hands dripped with myrrh, and my fingers with liquid [sweet-scented] myrrh, [which he had left] upon the handles of the bolt.
I opened for my beloved, but my beloved had turned away and withdrawn himself, and was gone! My soul went forth [to him] when he spoke, but it failed me [and now he was gone]! I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.
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