My Journal

Tracked since 30th July 2009

9 more days to Singapore!

And while we're talking numbers: 

- 10 days to my cousin's wedding

- 16 days to Hong Kong (again)

- 54 days to Christmas 

- xx days to new crib in Singapore (yay!)

Two things I love about Hong Kong: one, it's 80% terrain (hello nature!) and two, it has a gazillion public holidays.

At the end of September, the stars converged.

Thanks to some "day after" Mid-Autumn celebratory thingy followed by some "day after" National Day thingy, Oyster Boy and I were treated to a four-day weekend with which we spent camping out at Tai Lung Wan. The last time I camped was a good 15 years ago - that's if you consider slumming out in an emptied classroom camping. I'm not sure if it was my terribly fulfilling experience with camping as a child or lack thereof, but I've always thought of the idea rather romantically. The ideal takeaway started out innocently enough - building sandcastles by day, bon-firing marshmallows by night and lots of lazy nappings in between. Then, as with all things blended with age, HBO and a modest disposable income, my perfect camp concept evolved.

In my head as of 2012, camping involves having a tent pitched in the path of fresh (preferably Japanese) wind, starting a fire cave-people-style (in modern-people-time), retiring over an episode (or three) of Spartacus on the iPad every evening and waking up to the soundtrack of rolling waves every morning. That, and et cetera et cetera.

I guess you could say when a proper camp gig finally came around, I was hell-bent on living the dream. 

Mission 1: Housekeep beach-front studio

Misson 2: Engineer a sand-masterpiece 

Mission 3: Pose with masterpiece


Mission 4: Dig incredibly large hole 


Mission 5: Make incredibly larger hole larger


Mission 6: Set hole on fire 


Mission 7: Read


Mission 8: Run


Mission 9: Jump

Misson 10: Look happy with boyfriend (front)


Misson 10: Look happy with boyfriend (back)

I'm back, you guys! - from a crazy couple months of Hong Kong - Singapore shuttle. A little something to revive this space while I go apartment hunting: 

Sailing the super cute Weta Trimaran with (the similarly cute) Amandina 

God do I miss typing stuff on my hugeass iMac! 

If you've met me pre-Oyster Boy, you'd never - in a million years - envision me a mother-type. I mean, I excel at mothering a boyfriend; but I have the pottiest mouth, the dirtiest humour and I advocate valium for annoying children. In short, I'm hardly the safe, nurturing adult you want kids under 25 to hang around with.

But here I am, couple months deep into my life with Oyster Boy, finding myself ice-skating with his 10 year-old, yelling "DO NOT JUMP INTO THE POOL. I AM SERIOUS" 50 times a day, staying on top of dad+kids' laundry situation, racing after quarreling children in IFC (in my brand new Louboutins), making sure one kid doesn't get killed crossing Shanghai roads while hoping the other is still alive in the hotel... 

And the funny part? I'm starting to find this whole gig pretty fascinating. Well, as opposed to crazy challenging at the start. 

I'd like to think the kids somewhat like me by now. They've started calling me Greg (sometimes Henry, Loco or Black Hole), and I'm taking that as profound progress. 

In Other News:

I've formulated a pre-adolescent-friendly technique for eradicating vulgar language by making them remove the first letter of every bad word. So it's all about Uck This, You Astard, Itch, I'm feeling like Hit now. 


In Other, Other News:

I don't think they're latching on to the concept very well. Yet...

... when a prospective tenant views your apartment as-is (ergo still heaving with personal crap, furniture and miscellaneous belongings) today and wanting to move in today.

Woah, lady!


In Other News:

I think we're pretty set for 2012. I think.

It seemed centuries ago I was in Bangkok last (truth: March) and all I recalled of it was a whirlwind week of work, room service and sleep. And Oyster Boy charming me with St. Regis, ludicrously decadent massages and hours of chat after my work stint. Forward three months later, and we're down to the emailing-each-other-while-in-the-same-room, running-after-BTS, 250-baht-massage kind of relationship. Things are finally getting real and I guess there's only one thing to say:

Phew!

I'll take a 250 baht hardcore massage over Krug and diamonds any day honey :D

We hauled home 40+kg of house stuff from this trip and and air-freighted another 25kg. Am currently upgrading his leathery Bachelor pad with light Scandinavian accents, matt white crockery and soft fragrances. A critical process since I'm officially moving in after my month-long Shanghai rendezvous. I've sunk to a level of poverty where I can't afford to keep my loft anyway.

Follow your dreams, they say. You will make bank of it one day, they say. Well, whoever they are obviously haven't tried writing for money. 

We Buy IT!

Everyone, meet the new addition to our family: 

How I wished my week-long hideout in Samui was a vortex of lazy days and delicious nights. Y'know, the sort of mindless yet fuzzy vacations only freshly-minted, limerent couples can pull off. The 11am breakfasts. The aimless afternoons. The mojito-charged bedroom fun. The living of delusion plus the whole shebang.

The truth my friends, however, was more romantic.

Oyster Boy and I worked through breakfast the first four days (and I, through dinner on the fifth), did hardcore pilates, dived at four sites and drove miles hunting for cool restaurants (to work from, naturally).

We'd be up by 8am everyday and settled into our ocean-view breakfast table with three phones, two laptops, two pots of industrial-strength tea and seven wi-fi access codes by 9. To get our monies worth, we'd steal five-second glances of the azure gulf - me, from the monitor tip of my MacBook and him while yelling at/bossing people over the phone.   


I gave birth to a Christchurch story on my birthday holiday, and Oyster Boy was there to watch me labour. The way his eyes glistened when I finally delivered my article during entrée at the Four Seasons - sigh, it was such a moving moment.

I really hate to admit this so early on, but we fit so well.

We're both psychos who love:




In other news: I'm so tired, but equally happy :) And we're heading to Bangkok in 1.5 days. Life is sweet.