Walking the Walk

Once a year, for just one week, the part of Carillon Ave that leads from the Village to the Institute bursts into a sea of brilliant purple. It's jacaranda week right now, isn't it? When the jacarandas are in full bloom. It's sometimes early, sometimes late, but always awe-inspiring.

It's makes walking to Merewether such a joy.... Almost cancels out the horrible bits of October -- getting swooped while jogging, having to wear multi-layers because of schizo weather and itchy, pale skin leftover from winter. It is the one week of the year that makes me think: Nature still has a way of making us stop, gawk and smile.

The only more beautiful usyd moment I cherish is the 4.45pm walk from Carslaw to Merewether on my teaching days. As I emerge from the classroom, the sun is slanting just so. The walk takes three minutes, maybe four if traffic is heavy. But it is the most poignant few minutes of the week. It's something money can't buy, and time cannot take away.

Work has been good this week. At least the "work" part of it was. I had to go for a business lunch this week, the kind you have with publicity folks from some outfit who want good publicity. Realised I'm can't schmooze if my life depended on it. I'm like, nice to meet you, so ...um....what's for lunch? Awkward silence...

If there is such a thing as a schmooze gene, it's not part of my DNA. Can't do plastic. Just can't. Which is sad, coz while I'm "doing lunch", the list of friends I actually want to eat lunch with is growing longer and longer.... While I'm caught up in this "serious" stuff, real life is happening around. Kids are growing up, people are getting married and the incomparable Chanel left the race.

Time passes so fast, like the fading of jacaranda season.

Before and After

As we go through life, we cannot help but become more and more spoilt. Not spoilt in a diva's-hissy-fit sort of sense, but in the way that knowledge, once gained, cannot be discarded.

I call it the Business Class Syndrome. Once upon a time, you were fine sitting in Economy, sipping unknown reds and eating chicken-or-beef, until one fateful day, when you were introduced to glorious, divine Business, with its humongous seats, heaps of yummy food and fountains of Bordeaux and Burgundy.

Suddenly, going back to Economy seems like such a punishing prospect. Who wants to go back to sitting in cramped seats, eating rubbery noodles and drinking awful wine from (gawd!) plastic cups, when you KNOW there's something better, way better?

It's fine if you didn't know it existed. But now you do, you cannot just un-know it.

As a friend said, when I asked her why she is still using generic skincare products:"After you have upgraded, you can't come back. Then it's up, up, up all the way."

I am sure you have your own list of these fateful moments, when you were introduced to things-that-spoilt-me-for-life. When it happens, life is never the same again. It is forever split into Before X and After X.

Here are some of my Before and Afters:

- B & F Campos coffee: The way they are so passionate about this thick black liquid, their signature leaf pattern on the latte, the jazz, and of course, the coffee.... it set an impossibly high standard and I will forever hate them for doing so.

- B & F Fish Markets: You mean, it is possible to have so much sashimi, oysters and prawns for under $30?

- B & F Zion Rd char kuay teow: In case anyone thinks this is another love letter to Sydney, an honourable mention to the stall that makes slippery dark rice noodles which put the pretenders to shame.

- B & F Isigny butter: I thought butter is butter is butter, until I tasted this subtle, pale French version. Who would have thought butter could be so orgasmic?

- B & F Tyrell's Vat 47: And I used to hate chardonnay. Refused to drink it. Can't. Won't. Until this beauty came along.

- B & F Kobe Beef: Well, there is beef and there is wagyu beef. And a mile of difference in between.

- B & F Mango: Clothes shopping has never looked back, baby.

- B & F Broadband: Without which, I wouldn't be writing this, and you wouldn''t be reading it.

p/s I am perfectly happy with my West Coast Jap restaurant right now. If there's something better out there, please don't let me know.

If equal affection cannot be

Friday evening. Story done, reservation at sashimi heaven made, emails answered, about to switch off the computer. Then, as if on cue, a press release magically appears on my desk. "Erica, I'm giving you back your story. Add this guy's stuff at the top. He's really important." Perfect timing.

God, I've become one of those people who cannot keep appointments, who make people order food before I arrive, and when I finally do, bore them to death with an account of my misadventures at taxi hailing. What can I say? Me no taxi magnet. Never have been, never will be.

Mm, maybe if I keep this up, people will forget that I exist. Resolve to get taxi companies' numbers on my mobile speed dial anyway.

It's been a grey, drab, muggy kinda week... My goal to not screw up in my first month at work has sort of evaporated when I misspelt the name of a multi-syllabic scientific term, the mother of all freaking multi-syllabic scientific terms. Luckily, big shot computer firm could be pacified with an email.

Now, my goal is to not MAJORLY screw up. Maybe, by next week, it will be modified to "not getting sued".

In the meantime, I'm sort of the eye in the centre of other people's emotional storms. Maybe because I've seen it all, I know that there's no way to persuade anyone out of their intense journeys, even though it pains me to see them get hurt. Maybe in your early 20s, being in love does mean getting irreversibly, irretrievably hurt.

Maybe the only way to know how far you'd go for love, is to really go that far. Which could be very very far.

The peerless Auden said it best when he wrote:"If equal affection cannot be, let the more loving one be me."

The One

"Ask not what you can do for your country. Ask what's for lunch." Orson Welles

Hey, I think I deserve to get a medal for waking up before 10am for five CONSECUTIVE days.

So far, the only thing that gets me out of bed and through my morning routine, without putting facial cleanser onto my toothbrush, is Delta at full blast. If she's "Born To Try", I'm born to snooze.

Work was ok. As usual, the Desk is zen central. Though I wonder what the people there would think if they knew I was only working to subsidise my DSH (Destructive Sushi Habit). Which brings me to highlight of the week.

Tragedy struck few weeks ago, when I came back to Singapore hoping to eat at sushi mecca Kurama again, only to find that it has closed for 2 years.

It was the place I went to eat fab sushi in blissful solitude. After work, you just want to pamper yourself, without the need to make conversation.

Ever since coming back, I've been flittng from restaurant to restaurant, looking for something similar, but haven't found The One.

Then there it was, staring out of the Business Times. A full page food review, claiming that it was the closest thing to ocean fresh fish. It was located in this weird Japanese enclave called Ginza. And what a find.

The Sakuraya has all sorts of raw fish, and not just the usual suspects of tuna and salmon. A piece of thingy that looked like raw marbled beef cubes turned out to be the most orgasmic fatty tuna. And here's the clincher: they have wagyu beef!! The service was nice too, and the sake list was top notch. It was filled to the brim with real Japanese, which is always a good sign.

I think this is The One. An expensive One, but The One, nonetheless.

Oh by the way, they finally published my food review of sel et poivre, after two months. (Joy!) Darlings, do go have some rillette for me!

Plan B

I haven't read my horoscope for ages, but I'm sure the latest one for Librans goes something like this:

"Your week will start out fine, with lots of new faces and places. Just when you thought everything is going to culminate into one helluva beaut weekend, Fate reveals that it has other plans for you. Your birthday dinner plans will evaporate. Your social life will screech to a halt. Whoever you are rooting for will lose their lead and be defeated. You will be seeing lots of horses."

Sigh. The people have spoken. And it ain't what I'd like to hear. Basically, voters are telling Latham:"We like you, we really do, but maybe next time."

He entered the campaign with such amazing form. But as with the last election, Howard had totally cornered the market in last minute catch-ups. By Friday, the old man practically owned the race. Oh well. Aussies'd better get used to being bossed around by the US.

Friday turned out to be a cakeless anti-climax of a birthday. Plan A was dashed because of a change in schedule, and Plan B consisted of a hit-and-run pasta dinner at the Polo Club, after which I had to rush back to complete my work. It sucks to spend birthday night all dressed up and all alone. It's like Heaven forgot about you or something.

It wasn't so long ago (last week?) when there were people to ask you out almost every day of the week. Where did everyone go?

Sea of Tranquility

I 've spent my first two days at work imbibing heaps of coffee, chasing this coffee industry story.... I'm so sick of coffee, if I hear the word "coffee" again, I'm going to scream.

The business desk is ok, a lot smaller than I thought. It's so quiet, so still... everyone speaks in hushed, civilised tones, even when conducting interviews. Whatever happened to the frantic shreiking we get so used to at the newsroom, esp when the evening draws close? The ringing phones, screaming editors, blasting TVs? Somehow, a newsroom just doesn't feel the same without all that background noise, that buzz.

OI! !!WHERE'S YOUR ECSTASY STORY???
IT'S ALREADY IN!!!
THAT'S IT??? THAT'S NOT LONG ENUFF!! NOW WE WANT IT FOR PAGE THREE!!
WELL YOU DIDN'T TELL ME!!!
WELL NOW YOU KNOW!!!
GO FUCK YOURSELF!!!!
RATHER THAT THAN YOU!!!

Civility and journalism just don't go well together. Like orange juice and red wine.

Made the horrible mistake of wearing my new black heels to work. Feet hurt like a bitch. I must have had this pained expression on my face, coz a workmate asked if I was "stressed". Sweetie, if you had blisters all over your feet, you'd look stressed too.

Evil thought: This dude in front of me has a bottle of beer perched on the ledge between our desks. Feel so tempted to steal it. Need A. Drink. Badly. A non-caffeinated one.

Late 20s versus Early 20s

My birthday is coming up this weekend. This is the first time in a long time I'm spending it in Singapore, so it's gonna be good. I'm unambiguously, undeniably in my LATE 20s! Gosh.

Mom's making blueberry cheesecake, Ashley's sending some mysterious package from Sydney that hopefully contains Krispy Kremes...

For Saturday night, I'd kill to be taken for a nice quiet meal in a restaurant that has gd food and great service. Just dying for some good conversation. That's happiness for me.

Realised this is a good age to be, compared to my early 20s, coz:
1.You stop feeling unsure of who you are. You are totally at ease with yourself. No more of that "Do I look all right?", "Am I too nice?", "Should I play dumb?". I am who I am. Deal with it.
2.You feel more stable and secure, even when the shit hits the fan, coz you stopped thinking it's your fault life isn't perfect. You savour the good bits of life with relish, and take the bad bits with grace.
3.You realise that dreams are always worthwhile to have, and dreams do come true.
4.You have been hurt enough to know not to hurt people. Ever.
5.You know life's too short to endure toxic people, eat yucky food and try to like music that you hate.
6.You finally understand that when it comes to friends, quality far outweighs quantity.
7.You no longer feel obliged to complete a Top Ten list.