There’s the last kiss that we were meant to have but the crossing light turned white too fast

Have you had so many friends come out of the woodwork at the same time? The last few weeks has seen a steady stream of people I haven’t talked to for a long time drop a message or call and it is weird-cool.

One friend has an uncanny knack of getting in touch when I’ve been thinking of messaging him. It happens every single time, it’s probably not uncanny anymore.

One friend Skype-called me as he was driving to work – in Guatemala. And the best part was that the connection only died once during our 30-minute conversation. From Guatemala to Singapore, while he was on the road. That’s impressive!

One friend is planning a month-long trip to Europe next April and asked me to join for all or some part of it. The travelling-with-a-friend debacle of 2012 is still very fresh on my mind so I’m not sure, but I’m thinking about it. I do miss her, and I’m always looking for an excuse to go to Europe again.

One friend asked if I know of a shop that sells a huge variety of baking supplies – course I do – and that we should meet soon. Yes, we should. And we have to mean it this time, I tell her.

One friend…my absolute favourite of the lot – but don’t tell anyone. We didn’t talk for the past year for various reasons but especially one stupid, stupid reason. Well, he had to be coaxed out of the woodwork. I heard a Rachael Yamagata song, thought of him, texted him that I missed him…and he said he missed me too, and how did I know he was in a deep, shitty hole? I didn’t know. But I must have…somehow. We’re friends again, and I couldn’t be happier about that. Also, “You were right. About everything.” Of course I was. “I told you so,” I wanted to say, but I didn’t. I won’t.

There are several others still, and all of these…rekindling of relationships is making me kind of like life just a little bit more. It’s really awesome when it works, huh?

Speaking of liking life, how’s this to make me change my mind. I woke up suddenly from a dream about mum this morning. I wasn’t planning on describing the dream in detail or even mentioning it at all but a few months from now when I re-read this post I’d have forgotten what the dream was about and it would really annoy me not being able to recall it. So this is for you, future TFC:

I had a dream that I was frantically looking for a piece of paper where I apparently had made a monthly record of money I’ve given mum from my salary. In my culture, once you start working full-time, you give your parents some money from your salary every month as a way of giving back. Usually it’s your mother, because Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him, said honour your mother three times before your father; and also because mothers are generally more loved in my culture. It could be as little as $50, but it’s the thought that counts. So in this dream she was already dead, but I was looking for this piece of paper for whatever reason, and I couldn’t find it, and I woke up, and for a split second the subject of the dream alone was enough to make me sad. But when it occurred to me that no such thing exists in real life – that I had never given her money from my salary because she died before I finished school…hoo boy. I started sobbing. It sucks when that happens.

On a lighter note, work is going really well. Been here a month and a half now and I’m still loving it. My colleagues are all nice and I’m pretty sure my boss would trust me with his life if I let him. I’m not exaggerating in the slightest. It’s pretty scary. But also nice to be thought of as trustworthy again after enduring six months of bullshit from my psychotic ex-boss. Person #4 who was planning to quit this year has not only quit but left the country. He’s got a job in Australia now. Good for him. Now#5 is just biding his time. AM is so fucked!


A few months ago I read an article by a woman who lost her father. This particular paragraph took my breath away.

My father died on November 14th, 1995, when I was 14. Every day since the day he died I am one day farther away from him than I was before. This is the truest thing about me. It is the most important and worst thing to ever happen to me. It is me. My father died when I was 14. I will tell people this forever. It is the truest thing about me. I was 14 when he died. My father. I was 14.

- ‘Before You Know It Something’s Over‘ by Riese Bernard

When I read it, I just changed the date and age in my head.

My mother died on September 15th, 2004, when I was 19. Every day since the day she died I am one day farther away from her than I was before. This is the truest thing about me. It is the most important and worst thing to ever happen to me. It is me. My mother died when I was 19. I will tell people this forever. It is the truest thing about me. I was 19 when she died. My mother. I was 19.

There are a lot of thoughts swirling around in my head on this day but the one I will share is this – most days I can’t even believe she’s gone. So for the calendar to show that she has been gone for ten whole years is, quite simply, mind-boggling. It’s crazy that it has been this long since I touched her; longer still since she consciously touched me. We were very affectionate, my mother and I. We would kiss each other on both cheeks, forehead, and lips whenever one of us left the house. I wish I could say that it feels like it was just last week since I felt her face on mine, but no. It actually feels exactly like ten years ago. Her last kiss feels as old as it is in age, and just as far away.

Ten years on, and not only am I still grieving, but I am still mourning. I suspect I forever will be.

A still life drawing of a peach

I’m back from my trip to Toraja, Indonesia. It was fascinating. I’ll write about it some other time. I need to recap the Greece and Italy parts of my Euro trip too. So many trips to write about! Woe is me! But hey, now that I’ve done Asia solo (ish, because I got me a private guide and driver) I feel more confident about going on more solo trips around Asia. Yes!

Tomorrow I start my new job. Today was my last day of funemployment. That’s right, funemployment. What? I wasn’t employed up till just before my holiday? Nope. I left OldJob two and a half months ago, a month before NewJob was confirmed. I didn’t write about it but it happened. :) Too bad Ramadan fell right smack in the middle of those months or believe me, I would have gone on a loooooong trip somewhere.

I’m equal parts excited about my new venture and dreading it. Bound to be healthier working for a larger organisation with proper regulations – not bullshit people make up along the way. And I’m looking forward to having female colleagues after two years of being the only female. I didn’t know I missed having other women in the office until I didn’t have any. Getting used to the New Zealand accent (and a variety of Southeast Asian and South American accents) should be fun too. And not to mention getting paid. My bank account misses having money in it! I will miss waking up at 10am every day and watching tv all day though. *sniff* Oh, it’s so fun not having to wake up early and brave the crowds on the MRT!

Aside: I started watching Friends from the very first episode not long after leaving OldJob and quite aptly, I saw the very last episode today. When it was on I would only watch it sporadically as I was in school and it played on tv pretty late here. I was too young to get all the jokes anyway. Someone asked me recently who my favourite Friends character is. It’s taken me a while to come up with an answer but I’d have to say it’s Ross, with Chandler coming in a close second. Everything those two do is comical to me. What a great series.

I did most of my pre-work prep before my trip so I was quite free today. That was the intention. I wanted to chill today. Would you believe I’ve got three weeks’ worth of work outfits ironed? And overnight oats (frozen) for the whole of next week? And a few days’ worth of lunch (also frozen)? And various vegetables, cut and boiled, waiting to be tossed into salads? I’m proud of myself. It was nice to be able to relax on my last day of freedom instead of frantically ironing and cooking.

Apart from starting my new job next week, I am also hosting an online friend on his trip to Singapore. I’ve known Dylan for something like eight years? Since the good ol’ Vox days. But never met in the flesh. And in a few days he will be sleeping in the next room. We’ve only been talking about it since January, no big deal. YES, BIG DEAL! Next week is going to be epic!

I close this post with a song I’m going through a second round of mega obsession with. Can’t stop, won’t stop.

Mint Chocolate Chip Frozen Yoghurt

Mint chocolate chip is my faaaaavourite ice cream flavour. Though I rarely have it, unless it’s artigianale. Because I’m a s-n-o-b. Heh.

I’ve only ever made one kind of froyo and I thought it was time I expanded my…repertoire. Surely I could make my favourite ice cream at home, without all the colouring and preservatives?

This recipe by Katy’s Kitchen tells me I can. So I did!


I made a few slight changes:

1. I used coconut cream instead of coconut milk. I accidentally bought coconut cream and didn’t realise it until I started. I figured, what could go wrong? (Well, it would give it a higher fat content. But who cares.) It would probably just make it creamier. It ain’t no big thing. Indeed, it is creamier and therefore, delicious.

2. I skipped the peppermint extract, because I couldn’t find any at the supermarket. Truth be told you don’t really need it. One and a half cups of real, fresh mint make this froyo minty enough.

3. I added some roughly chopped 70% dark chocolate into the mix. And I melted more than 3 oz (approximately half a cup) of chocolate chips for the drizzle. I think I used one cup. I don’t know, I didn’t pay attention. Ha! You can never have too much chocolate.

4. If you read the recipe, you’ll see that she stirs the mixture every thirty minutes for two hours to make sure it gets all nice and mixed. Ain’t nobody got time fo dat. What’s my high-powered blender for if it couldn’t do that for me? After some time in the blender, I poured the mixture into my loaf pan and chucked it in the freezer for one and a half hours before drizzling the melted chocolate on the top and letting it freeze overnight.


I sure got time for this! It’s really creamy thanks to the coconut cream, it’s plenty minty without the aid of peppermint extract, AND all the extra chocolate makes it very, very luxurious. It’s pretty tangy though, so if you’d prefer something sweeter, up the amount of honey till it makes you happy.

Day 1-5: Sofia and Velingrad, Bulgaria

14th Ramadan

Now that I’m no longer sad/frustrated/anxious about my work sitch, I’m finally in the mood to put up some pics of my happy times in Europe! But before I do, I don’t believe I’ve ever mentioned my rationale for going to Bulgaria, have I? I’ve come to realise that there needs to be a rationale for going to Bulgaria. Every time I mentioned it, people were puzzled. I don’t blame them. Who goes to Bulgaria, right?

Well, my reason for going to Bulgaria was…I have a Bulgarian friend. How do you have a Bulgarian friend?! Couchsurfing, duh. She used to work for an airline. She first wrote me when she was going to have a long stopover here. She said my profile is really clever and that I seemed like a cool person. (It is and I am.) We met up, got along really well, and every time she came here we’d meet up. So there.

She’s planning to work in Singapore in the next couple of years, so when she heard about me coming to Europe again and not really knowing where else to go besides Italy and Greece (hashtag firstworldproblems, I know), she invited me to visit her in Bulgaria. Might as well go while I know somebody there, right? And that is why I went to Bulgaria!


Upon reaching Sofia, I was whisked away to ER’s place to unpack and repack my stuff for a 3-day stay at her parents’ place in Velingrad, a 2-hour bus journey. First impression of Bulgaria? Oh, oh, my. Looks like Singapore in the 70s. Not that I was alive yet in the 70s. But I’ve seen pictures. I didn’t look out the window much throughout the bus journey though because we were talking non-stop, much to the chagrin of the lady in the next aisle who kept giving us dirty looks. Ha!


Potted plants in her parents’ garden.


Popped my head into the market. Nothing special here. This was no Parisian market.


After dinner one night ER and I took a walk in the park nearby. Despite the lights it was actually really dark in there. There was a guy wearing a hoodie walking behind us for a while and ER and I panicked. I thought to myself, either this is my rape, my murder, or a simple mugging. I couldn’t stand to lose my phone again, but getting mugged is a hundred times more desirable than rape and/or murder. We quickened our pace, the whole time looking over our shoulder. After what seemed like forever, he changed paths. I don’t know what that was about. We were properly freaked out.


We took a road trip to a town whose name I forget. But there were hills and tall trees and yellow flowers and dandelions in the grass and a lake and wide open spaces I don’t normally see.




A little outside Sofia

Paragliding day! We took the 5:30am bus back to Sofia so I could meet my instructors at 9:30am. The mountain we were going to (not Vitosha, they had decided earlier, because the weather wasn’t right for it, or something) was over an hour away from Sofia, hence the early start.

ER didn’t come with me. She just dropped me off at the station to meet my instructors. I was feeling all fine and dandy…until it dawned on me that I was alone in a car on a rather deserted road with three random big, strong guys I just met five minutes ago. AND WE WERE GOING TO A MOUNTAIN. A MOUNTAIN WITH NO PEOPLE AROUND. AND QUITE POSSIBLY NO PHONE SIGNAL. What if the paragliding company was just a ruse to get unsuspecting girls out to the mountains? They could easily rape me and murder me then leave my body out on the mountain where I wouldn’t be found for days/weeks/months. I promise you I’m not usually suspicious of people. But I was genuinely frightened at this pointAnd I really couldn’t explain why. I could only pray I was wrong.


Seeing this didn’t help assuage my worries, either. It looked like a scene in a horror movie where girls who think they’re going paragliding instead get raped and killed out on the mountain. What? I’m sure that movie exists! The guys explained to me that these were condensation vapours. It happens when the humid air meets the cold ground. It was fascinating. But creepy.


The mountain – at last! Oh, wait. I wasn’t supposed to be happy. I was getting close to my rape and death now. Still, I nearly wept with happiness thinking these were wild horses. But the guys told me that they belonged to somebody and that they were being let out to graze/chill.


Two of the three instructors walking towards higher ground with their heavy-ass gliders on their backs. They wouldn’t carry those things if they just wanted to rape and kill me, I thought. I would actually get to fly down this mountain. In one, un-raped piece. I began to relax.


I was so stoked. I had never seen so much snow in my life. Walking in it was a pain, however. I kept slipping and sliding and sinking! My calf muscles got a real beat-down, I tell ya.


I sat alone up here while the guys inspected the ground and examined the wind quality a little further away. In the end it was decided that the wind was way too strong to fly in. Dammit. The walk back to the car all the way down there was as excruciating as it was going up. Verdict: Snow is pretty but completely horrible to walk in. Don’t do it.

We headed to another mountain that wasn’t snowy. The wind would probably be better there, they said.

On the way to this other mountain I really needed to pee. Of course there were no toilets around so if I wanted, I would just have to squat behind a tree. I had never answered nature’s call in nature before and was shy as hell. But the guys, being guys, were unfazed. “When you gotta go, you gotta go. So just do it,” they coaxed. They let me out of the car and they drove a little further ahead to give me some privacy. Luckily I’m from Southeast Asia and have had some experience squatting to pee. I laughed the entire time but I didn’t get even get my boots wet. Heh. I’m not exactly dying to do it again anytime soon but if I ever find myself in the same situation, I wouldn’t think twice about it.


Green grass! And other people! Chances I would get raped and killed were looking slim to none. Huzzah!

We hiked up and waited for the wind.
And waited.
And waited.
And waited.
The irritating part about paragliding is the wait, they told me. But it’s all worth it when you’re up there.

I know. I went paragliding in Malaysia last year. I know that feeling.

After waiting an hour, the wind was finally perfect. I was strapped up and eager to fly, as was my instructor. Steady…steady…walk quickly…run! Run towards the wind! And off we went! We were in the air! I was flying! Yay!

Hang on, we’re swirling. Hey, we’re swirling. Hey, I can feel the wind dying. Hey, are we…

The ground looked closer and closer. And suddenly we found ourselves seated. FML. Thirty seconds, that flight lasted. All that hiking and waiting and it was over in thirty seconds.


Not me. Some other guy. The wind was conducive for solo paragliding but not tandem. Tandem was too heavy for that wind.


We waited a little bit more for the wind to pick up but it never did. So we conceded defeat and headed back into the city. Because my flight was so short, it didn’t count as a flight and I wasn’t charged. That’s something at least.

After I got in the car, these two guys were standing outside smoking. We lamented the lack of good quality wind and made small talk. Then, one of them asked me, “Do you smoke weed?” No, I said. Is that weed you’re smoking? “Yes. You ever tried?” No, I said. “You want to?” I hesitated. I kind of did. I came close to being able to give it a try in Barcelona, two years ago, with my host AX, but things got in the way. I had another chance now. Do I do it?

“Yeah,” I said. I stepped out of the car and put the fag to my lips. No turning back now. I took a drag. And I immediately coughed. “You’re doing it wrong. You’re not inhaling properly. Inhale. But slowly.” Okay, let’s try again. A longer, deeper drag this time. Nope. Coughed again. And not even the slightest bit of buzz. The guys informed me that you never get high on your first try. I’d just have to do it again next time. Umm, alrighty then! They finished, got in the car, and we drove off. And the whole way back I worried about a guy who’d just been smoking weed driving the car I was in.


After a crazy morning running around trying to find a tailor to replace the broken zip on my coat (don’t ask), I finally got to pay the city of Sofia a visit.


I had never been to a European capital city with streets that weren’t bustled with people, especially tourist-type people. It was 12:30pm on a Tuesday and I seemed to be the only non-local in the city centre. Or at least I didn’t see anyone else toting a camera. I know Sofia is no grand metropolis but it was weird!


The Sveti Sedmochislenitsi Church was converted from an abandoned Ottoman mosque. Also – weeping willows! I like weeping willows.


These are sculptures of two Bulgarian writers, Petko and Pencho Slaveykov – a father and son. The square this bench is located, the Slaveykov Square, is named after them.



The Monument to 1300 Years of Bulgaria was built in 1981 to commemorate the 1300th anniversary of the First Bulgarian Empire. They started to dismantle it a few years ago but as with everything in Bulgaria – so says ER – they couldn’t decide who would pay for it, and also they kind of got lazy and so…they stopped. Apparently there hasn’t been any work done on it for over a year!

So Bulgaria has a long way to go before she is on par with the rest of Europe. But for now the east-meets-west feel is pretty charming!

Can’t nothing bring me down, my level’s too high

5th Ramadan

1. Today I signed the contract for my new job at a New Zealand-owned tech company.

2. I’ve reached a plateau here and needed a change…is the short answer.

3. The long answer is long and I have spent too much time thinking and talking about it and I choose not to anymore. What I will say though is that by leaving, I followed the footsteps of two people before me and two more will come after me. Five leavers this year says something about how this once-fantastic place is no longer fantastic, does it not?

4. The job scope is not too far off from OldJob but with a lot more responsibility and ample room to learn and grow and develop – something that is very much missing here.

5. The salary is AMAZING. The benefits package is AMAZING.

6. I will start in late August.

7. Sometime before that, I will go to Tana Toraja, Indonesia, for a short vacation. It has been my dream destination for so long and I’m thrilled to finally be able to cross it off my bucket list.

8. I’m happy.