tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80365939459060030412024-02-21T05:02:56.753+08:00Noodles and LattesLaying foundations in Hong Kongghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.comBlogger138125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8036593945906003041.post-70311350856517566412014-03-06T10:09:00.000+08:002014-03-06T14:54:47.454+08:00Secrets<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">My absence can be explained. Much like a cat with a large tropical bird in my mouth coughing feathers, I've been holding onto a secret to the point that I could burst. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Baby number 1 is on the way. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There. Feathers gone. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But can I say that secrets and food really don't mix.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Case in point - Christmas this year was probably my worst Christmas ever. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My mother brought enough Jamon de Bellota to feed an army, which I diligently passed around looking demure and like-I-don't-want-to-over-indulge. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My sister-in law made her own foie which, ethics aside, made me shed a bitter tear as I politely declined, again looking like I'd just arrived from a 2 week detox in Thailand. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The home cured gravalax didn't help either. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Seriously, until this year, I hadn't realized what a nightmare Christmas could be. My own solace was found in the grilled scallops..and even that was questionable.</span></div>
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ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8036593945906003041.post-8055477191227558942013-09-14T14:49:00.001+08:002013-09-14T14:50:41.729+08:00Taxi Spanish<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">My daydream in the cab was broken by the driver asking me, <i>"Are you German?"</i>. I quickly tossed up what would end this conversation sooner, me being German or something else. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I went with, "Spanish". </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Silence reigned again and I went back to my daydreaming. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then, out of the blue, I hear,</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">"Ta ta di que so."</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Sorry?" I Say</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">"Ta ta de que so. Si. Cheescake."</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Cheesecake? Oh, tarta de queso. Yes, that's cheescake." I sink back into wondering why he can say cheesecake, of all things, but my thoughts are interrupted again with,</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">"Piscina pubico."</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>"</i>Publica, yes. With an L."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"<i>Ah publica. yes."</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">He then pointed to the left, </span><i><span style="font-size: large;">"Comisaria de policia."</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The collection of schoolboy words in Spanish is a little baffling, I must say. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I lean over to see he has a pile of flash cards next to him, some in Spanish, some in Italian and a glimpse of "klein nudeln" reveals the enthusiasm for German earlier. </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Other useful words are listed like "stamp collection" and "spread germs" </span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">He then asks, "<i>How do you say IFC in Spanish?"</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I said that there were two ways, the long way and the short way. The long way was requested:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Centro Internacional Financiero"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">He wrote this on his newspaper as we sped down the highway at full throttle. </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">The Spanish list</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After asking him a number of words I've been wanting to learn in Cantonese (traffic jam, I'm late, up to you and birthday cake (to go with cheesecake)), we had sadly arrived.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">He shouted <i>Ciao! </i>out the window and was gone. </span></div>
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ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8036593945906003041.post-15379985812288491952013-08-26T21:40:00.000+08:002013-08-27T03:55:50.034+08:00Casual Fridays<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">If the average 40 year old Japanese banker wears khaki trousers, a button down shirt and boring shoes on a Saturday when going for lunch with his wife, then why does he wear a Nike cap, Nike Airs, white shorts and a Lycra t-shirt on "casual Fridays" at the bank?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is the question I asked myself ten minutes ago when I got a call from T at Le Banque in Tokyo. Turns out the electricity hasn't quite come back since last year's earthquake - don't ask - and so they're saving-on-a/c.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Due to it being, well, the middle of summer, the CEO sensibly suggested that employees might "dress casually and not wear a suit or tie" to avoid total meltdown. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Clearly, this was interpreted as "dress for Sports Day" or alternatively, "please all go home, dig around in the rag basket, hassle your 10 year old son for his hand-me-downs and throw it all on. In the dark."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I suppose it was that or the French alternative which would have been to shut down the entire Japanese division. That would be a far-better-way-to-save-on-a/c.<i> Non?</i></span><br />
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ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8036593945906003041.post-34159069873381600522013-08-17T08:23:00.001+08:002013-08-27T03:55:26.693+08:00Me and my kite<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">So, I took up kite surfing this year. As someone who can't get down a slope and can't do anything on wheels, I would say this is an achievement. I started in Boracay this February where I gained celebrity status (in my mind) by being one of the few beginners to get up and go within 3 days. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, needless to say, when we arrived at the kitesurfing school in Paros this summer, I felt more than confident that I'd be "up and going" in no time. They gave me a form with a list of all the techniques one should have at my level which I ticked off glibly. Yes-of-course-I-can-waterstart-and-kite-in-both-directions.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Satisfied that I had clearly mastered the art, they threw me my equipment, assigned me Giacomo, an Italian, and off I sauntered into the howling wind and water. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Two exhausted hours later, I still couldn't get my feet into the board straps, let alone begin to try and fly my kite.<span id="goog_894691972"></span><span id="goog_894691973"></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyMna8fOsTh00nw6esN5u76Bpn8iWHf9wl3yzfDre9G5WeeAGZ6R1WffUkg7tQd2qbdUmFwNNDyRnubap0KEsIy4JrfIDGG6a1bJyWlCehKZkb2hNToMJ5Y7spRH7TfFJEsmTceDVRggZj/s1600/NXz0iM2ctH79lb0jRSn1rGqSjA4SBcVfLomzRQ-bTFQ.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyMna8fOsTh00nw6esN5u76Bpn8iWHf9wl3yzfDre9G5WeeAGZ6R1WffUkg7tQd2qbdUmFwNNDyRnubap0KEsIy4JrfIDGG6a1bJyWlCehKZkb2hNToMJ5Y7spRH7TfFJEsmTceDVRggZj/s320/NXz0iM2ctH79lb0jRSn1rGqSjA4SBcVfLomzRQ-bTFQ.jpeg" width="239" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">T. Not me</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I floated in the middle of the bay, the wind whipping past my helmet, my knees tucked under my chin while </span><span style="font-size: large;">Giacomo zoomed around me on his jet ski shouting unhelpful advice like "tuck in your knees!", "steady the board!", "straighten your front leg!" </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">All his instructions blended together in my cold head until he finally took pity on me, flung my limp carcass onto the back of the jet ski and bounced me back to the beach.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Madly enough I tried again the next day, but this time with a Venezuelan who had much more helpful advice like, </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>"fall on your arse, not on your face (you'll look prettier that way)"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i> "shag, don't s**t" - </i>read stand tall and don't hang your bum in the water</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">He also enthusiastically shouted "Ole" every time I swirled my kite in the wind.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Much better. </span><br />
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<i>For those of you mad enough to want to try kitesurfing, check out this <a href="http://www.kitemare.com/Kitemares.htm">link</a> first. </i></div>
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<i>If you're too far from paradise, you can kitesurf in Hong Kong. It's pretty grim but better than watching YouTube all day.</i></div>
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ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8036593945906003041.post-84379411485308894652013-06-05T17:29:00.000+08:002013-08-27T03:56:24.540+08:00Working out like a French woman<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">As someone who would rather sit among a pile of pillows eating ice-cream than exercise ANY DAY, I've naturally struggled with the modern phenomenon of "regular exercise". I generally get into some sort of fad or other and then tire of it about 12 months later, disappointed by the results - exercise most definitely does not make you thin - and bored with the routine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">So, moving onto another fad, I signed up for a personal trainer in December. I decided that perhaps if I had someone come-to-my-door and wake-me-up in the morning, then maybe I'd actually manage to stick to it. And I have.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Part of the this was motivated by my trainer who suggested the notion that one "might want to workout like a Frenchwoman". This, she implied, means never missing a class...ever.... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">She told me (and I'm not sure how I feel about this) that many women work hard, play hard, drink hard, eat hard and exercise like maniacs, but that they don't keep it up. French women on the other hand, work light, play light, drink light, eat light and always exercise (lightly) and keep it up. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I don't know if any of this is particularly true (a good friend of mine, for example, does all of the above but then eats the entire cheese plate after she's had more than 3 glasses of wine), but in any case, I decided I would try the "always exercise, but lightly" idea. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">So now, twice or three times a week, you'll find me in the park lightly doing crunches, TRX squats, burpies, sprints, lunges and other death defying deeds...lightly. </span><br />
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ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8036593945906003041.post-62987690961830934742013-05-27T22:26:00.000+08:002013-08-27T03:56:48.849+08:00Mute<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I was recently told about a conference call with half the universe on it, in a huge multinational, across four different time zones. And in the middle of this call, everyone could suddenly hear the soothing tinkle tinkle of water, and the echo of what could only be the four walls of a bathroom. It took everyone on the line about 5 seconds to register what it was and for the presenter to irritably say,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">"Can we all go on mute, please?!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">And then I remembered a similar call where we were also talking across three million time zones, with twenty zillion heavyweights on the call and we could suddenly hear a dog barking and someone scream at the top of their lungs,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">"Shutup!!!!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Again, a restrained request for the mute button to be used was made.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">If you think about it, entire careers can be derailed because of not pressing the mute button. Even worse than not remembering to press the mute button is accidentally unmuting yourself with your cheek while squeezing it against the keypad. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Fatal. </span><br />
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ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8036593945906003041.post-81301033078571326202013-05-19T10:41:00.000+08:002013-08-27T03:57:19.710+08:00Lawn games<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Last week at my brother's house in Canada, as I was stacking chicken skewers for our afternoon lunch in the sunshine, I let my mind wander to thinking about the bucolic bliss of living in the country and how I could just see myself making my own jam and maybe having a Lab or two who would fetch tennis balls from the end of the garden.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Daydreaming of gardens </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Thanks Pinterest Paola Gembetti</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">In the middle of this daydream of nature's bounty and the serenity of lawns, I looked up to find myself staring at the neighbour's fat black cat triumphantly standing in the garden with a large fluffy tail protruding from his jaws.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The tail was enormous, and the cat was looking understandably chuffed about his acquisition. I watched, waiting to see if he would swallow the rest of the squirrel and spit out the tail. He didn't. Instead, he dropped the shivering wreck of a squirrel onto the lawn and proceeded to bat it around from side to side. He then picked it up and flung it into the air, the squirrel's eyes out on stalks as it came down with a thud back onto the grass, where it lay winded on its back trying to catch its breath. The cat, now preempting the end of the party, decides to give it one last chance and goes back to flicking the poor little thing from side to side. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Finally, the squirrel having decided that he'd humoured the cat for long enough, rolls over limply, after which the cat puts him into this mouth and dives into the bushes and wasn't seen again for the rest of the afternoon.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Tea, anyone?</span></div>
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ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8036593945906003041.post-62239318945717107722013-05-16T15:04:00.002+08:002013-08-27T03:58:04.774+08:00Hospitals<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I am finally back and writing again! Time sort of took a hold of itself what with trips to New York, visits from family and me generally being unfocused and a little all over the place. But fear not, things are now back on track.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Yesterday I had my first experience at Matilda Hospital. After years of hearing people (well, women) saying "Oh yes, I delivered at Matilda" and seeing the silent nods of appreciation and approval around the room, I finally get it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Sort of. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">So it's true that the building is majestically balanced on the Peak and is designed not unlike the Mount Nelson hotel in Cape Town, with art deco tiles and sky-high ceilings. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">But as the cab wound me up and up and up to the Peak, it got mistier and mistier, and what had been a sunny day at the office (which is on the sunny side of the island) had now become something not dissimilar to a foggy afternoon somewhere you'd rather not be alone at night. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi89Nyj2qdiKy61OgEwtUGB8OWlwTg0V3p91e0o8K1hyLSb_H3_Uj-54KH0s9yJ9m_xoj9Xt6BUjCU3xiWG5tk9E1vmiPTp2zqzCQPM6dxFj4qR0l04x56koc0jcYKr7hyphenhyphenyWTUo70ZJilrL/s1600/matilda+mist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi89Nyj2qdiKy61OgEwtUGB8OWlwTg0V3p91e0o8K1hyLSb_H3_Uj-54KH0s9yJ9m_xoj9Xt6BUjCU3xiWG5tk9E1vmiPTp2zqzCQPM6dxFj4qR0l04x56koc0jcYKr7hyphenhyphenyWTUo70ZJilrL/s320/matilda+mist.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Through the mist</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH63BQp0OkfZukWKVhkpVu_6gWrx8HRHYtp628PmhaLS5Oa6VWR6HiH0YyFXw5gJ1OBqc4Va66gFQcRixPUKpf7Hd3pzi48srnGR91gTFmYECCO8MVOaXOL2uBEU_IGy1mammt4yqWji8t/s1600/matilda+corridor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH63BQp0OkfZukWKVhkpVu_6gWrx8HRHYtp628PmhaLS5Oa6VWR6HiH0YyFXw5gJ1OBqc4Va66gFQcRixPUKpf7Hd3pzi48srnGR91gTFmYECCO8MVOaXOL2uBEU_IGy1mammt4yqWji8t/s320/matilda+corridor.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Austrian Psyche Ward, anyone?</span></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">This then got thinking about a) all those weird movies that Michael Fassbender has been (I digress) and b) all the hospitals I've been to. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">There's the Barcelona Teknon which looks like an Investment Bank (and where I fainted upon seeing my father all wired up and had to be resuscitated by all the various strangers waiting for their loved ones to be wheeled out) but then there's of course the New York hospitals which take the cake for dirty green walls, smelly cushioned blue waiting room seats and broken light bulbs.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I suppose in the end, you're not supposed to be checking in for life, but rather just for lunch. </span><br />
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ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8036593945906003041.post-27509708675914467742013-03-06T11:08:00.002+08:002013-08-27T03:58:28.477+08:00Road block<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Last night I looked out the window at 2am and there was a "road block" on our quiet little street. 4 policemen, 2 police vans and lots of flashing red and blue lights were positioned along the road. And no one, no one drove down the road. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">At one point I thought it was a movie set, but no, it was simply a non event. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But then I thought that this was just Hong Kong being typically Hong Kong and thinking, "well-we-wouldn't-want-to-create-any-traffic-with-a-road-block-so-let's-do-it-on-a-small-residential-street." Also, "how-about-we-do-it-on-a-Tuesday-night-so-we-don't-ruin-anyone's-Saturday-night-when-they're-all-happy-and-drunk?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Wouldn't surprise me.</span></div>
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ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8036593945906003041.post-82249585236061543872013-02-21T11:20:00.002+08:002013-08-27T03:58:51.636+08:00Kung Hei Fat Choi<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKEvucrWVgHxdBQ57EJffnk5O_mm2_3MXHYOw6uEiwFdGmaYkPQz2dLWIM55Gulu8HIYSx1g-gzZrqWXOlwewou0NNZvotPCjSAPHu9Aaw8Te-xh_PHEFCZpXSXr_IPyrmP82gjUlHa8Kt/s1600/cny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKEvucrWVgHxdBQ57EJffnk5O_mm2_3MXHYOw6uEiwFdGmaYkPQz2dLWIM55Gulu8HIYSx1g-gzZrqWXOlwewou0NNZvotPCjSAPHu9Aaw8Te-xh_PHEFCZpXSXr_IPyrmP82gjUlHa8Kt/s320/cny.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>The year of the Snake. The sssneakiest, sssliest creature. Oh sorry, intuitive, refined and collected.</i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My whole perception of gifting money has changed since living in Hong Kong. Here we/they give money for Chinese New Year, money for weddings, money for birthdays and money for funerals. Basically everything. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The amounts change depending on the occasion - Chinese New Year you're more or less free to give as much as you want, but no less than the year before and you only have to do this if you're married. For birthdays the money has to have as many 8's in it as possible and for funerals it needs to be in a white envelope (as opposed to red) and an odd number.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So, as a married woman, this week (the week after Chinese New Year) was my big week. The thing is, you don't want to offend anyone. Especially those that really matter, namely the doorman, the super and the maid. Those three have the power to make your life an absolute misery. You know that if you give them anything less than they think fair, you'll be subjected to doors being "accidentally" closed on your face, leaking air conditioners that "we're too busy to fix" and surprise sick days. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">There are also the singles who have been single long enough to make Chinese New Year a seriously high revenue period. Take our group secretary. She's single and essentially works for about 300 of us. Her total annual income is probably more than the CEO's. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">That said, regardless of who you're giving your red packet to, you know they say people are happier when they give than when they take. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's so true. </span><br />
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ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8036593945906003041.post-1571598350010616082013-01-30T20:05:00.000+08:002013-08-27T03:59:20.377+08:00Bulk shopping abroad <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">I was in Bangkok this week with one of my Hong Kong clients and she decides over breakfast that we should pop by the supermarket to buy a few bits and pieces for the people back home.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Upon hearing this, I think to myself that I'll buy my usual modest box of nibbles for the team. Small digression - I generally end up faring rather badly when I bring food back for my colleagues as the only person who actually eats everything is yours truly. I'm still working off the kilo I put on from the box of assorted Lindts I brought back from my last trip. So I try and keep these gifts small and as unappealing to my tastebuds as possible.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Anyway, off we go to the supermarket where I choose two boxes of Thai Spice Pretzel Sticks (I am less likely to single handedly devour a box of salty sticks than a box of, say, dried mangoes) and head to the checkout where I am joined by my client who has bought about 2 kg of food! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">She explains that the instant-noodles-are-so-much-better-than-in-Hong-Kong and that her maid always-drinks-coffee (she says this as she waves 4 bags of coffee in the air) and that you-can't-get-these-corn-flavored-Pockys-anywhere-so-they're-a-must (again waving a family pack of 10 corn Pocky boxes). </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">What ever happened to the idea of bringing back "a little something" from one's travels?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">With that, she shepherds me back into the dry foods aisles, fills up my basket, sighs with satisfaction and off we leave - my client pleased that she's stocked up on much loved favorites and me having suffered a complete paradigm shift in food gifts. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpTPgl6QBgiS6ZsjK3CavaVhRwHKntBSVQiSMn6i7eGjk0_qbmaZz16yRqkWJXPrBth0uDtHThEBRzpqdhDiwYy0S7uH7VkBE3wVN9fjqJwo55QR7PGkz_7TZOLr_-KJ2QxUuk7cyeacij/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpTPgl6QBgiS6ZsjK3CavaVhRwHKntBSVQiSMn6i7eGjk0_qbmaZz16yRqkWJXPrBth0uDtHThEBRzpqdhDiwYy0S7uH7VkBE3wVN9fjqJwo55QR7PGkz_7TZOLr_-KJ2QxUuk7cyeacij/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Just a little something I picked up in Thailand </i></div>
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<i>- 20 boxes of Pockys (10 corn, 10 chocolate banana)</i></div>
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<i>- 10 packs of instant noodles</i></div>
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<i>-1 box of Thai Spice Pretz</i></div>
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ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8036593945906003041.post-20687671653569294822013-01-10T11:28:00.000+08:002013-08-27T03:59:47.982+08:00Oh and then...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;">After Sri Lanka, we hopped over to the Maldives which you can imagine was simply <i>dreadful</i>... </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Of course, the thing about the Maldives is that you imagine that you'll get terribly bored sitting in a hut on stilts, sun bathing, eating and snorkeling But instead, we just sunk into a haze of relaxation. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The place we stayed in was Italian and probably served the best pasta and gelato east of Rome. So not only were we sun drenched but we were also blissfully full of ravioli, prosciutto and sun dried tomatoes. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzE2ybk1tIGYMlXvdyqIWfbFzSTHLM1v-oV4oEQMDI7pHOwghrtItgvDy1qVqKVPBTT9vILNFUgkWIpykfncLEPCjzeIqsZjN4KtMH0e3TH2-6GChCfieqdBfrr1lG_2RASVEQt4ekdh7r/s1600/maldives+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzE2ybk1tIGYMlXvdyqIWfbFzSTHLM1v-oV4oEQMDI7pHOwghrtItgvDy1qVqKVPBTT9vILNFUgkWIpykfncLEPCjzeIqsZjN4KtMH0e3TH2-6GChCfieqdBfrr1lG_2RASVEQt4ekdh7r/s320/maldives+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Postprandial recovery spot</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTCJume9mL2774tzNYYjG3ykeFwYOeSFDScW9n5yVX6OLg_XVSQLWxcJ2pPypvIiC8vvMimp96ylGw1prnhyqXDdjsHeJb-MgaeBOQ-podR29eNBjBBRtvXd5GaeDEZ7YxpRYhpqoKDUik/s1600/maldives+sharks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTCJume9mL2774tzNYYjG3ykeFwYOeSFDScW9n5yVX6OLg_XVSQLWxcJ2pPypvIiC8vvMimp96ylGw1prnhyqXDdjsHeJb-MgaeBOQ-podR29eNBjBBRtvXd5GaeDEZ7YxpRYhpqoKDUik/s320/maldives+sharks.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Local fauna</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjilrP2VgoODe0Q6pPRGMrERklRBDNdZRmvU09614X1fiRntu_dCkWPQpB6ifvodCSBPBHZKW38E0Hs56sntElyJdRtAnDwUZ32rrx0JQMsmI_Mv_9wcMiNM2tMnrw5xiL_i2-UciMIFkNG/s1600/maldives+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjilrP2VgoODe0Q6pPRGMrERklRBDNdZRmvU09614X1fiRntu_dCkWPQpB6ifvodCSBPBHZKW38E0Hs56sntElyJdRtAnDwUZ32rrx0JQMsmI_Mv_9wcMiNM2tMnrw5xiL_i2-UciMIFkNG/s320/maldives+3.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Sunning, sleeping and dreaming base</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1DJJ8kakkNXLshI4EX01tFsCn36-zU_4X8JU0wjZEBDNaju_WSx2u2CVVyZam0LnCosjC3v8yxFNRPCGimbmA35724sG94rHZi8suiUuHQcbbNChIHRfdefWJ5_nsCJXo-sUQjwa516ne/s1600/madloves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1DJJ8kakkNXLshI4EX01tFsCn36-zU_4X8JU0wjZEBDNaju_WSx2u2CVVyZam0LnCosjC3v8yxFNRPCGimbmA35724sG94rHZi8suiUuHQcbbNChIHRfdefWJ5_nsCJXo-sUQjwa516ne/s320/madloves.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Welcome 2013</i></div>
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<i>Where we stayed: Gangehi Resort - heavily Italian in every possible way.. except the decor</i></div>
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ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8036593945906003041.post-58547741949595378222013-01-10T10:57:00.003+08:002013-08-27T04:00:08.294+08:00Sri Lanka in pictures<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sri Lanka, with its reckless drivers, flower-filled air and smiley people was this year's Christmas destination. There are two ways to see Sri Lanka: clockwise or anticlock wise. We went clock wise. There's also really only one way to get around, and that's with a driver. After seeing two motorbike accidents and a van suspended over a broken wall, I could see why. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD4N59YMxffo5B8PZPoi_Ems4JdvmCWoa9CWULce4XQg0jojXt7eJSfLT_edC5R2OeqR8Q4sC_EKiVEaFcwHZn0oHPlzqAlXEwbk2yFbp6qcUplslIJT78zpcKIH8Pp3zpX1TpYUv8KzDq/s1600/sri++lanka+sirigiya.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD4N59YMxffo5B8PZPoi_Ems4JdvmCWoa9CWULce4XQg0jojXt7eJSfLT_edC5R2OeqR8Q4sC_EKiVEaFcwHZn0oHPlzqAlXEwbk2yFbp6qcUplslIJT78zpcKIH8Pp3zpX1TpYUv8KzDq/s320/sri++lanka+sirigiya.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Sigiriya - paranoia at new heights</i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;">Like much of Asia, there is no shortage of Buddhist temples, palaces or ostentatious water features. But Sigiriya fortress balanced on top of a rock takes the cake. Think: son kills father (who happens to be the king), takes the thrown and then hides out on top of a rock waiting for his brother to come to seek revenge. You couldn't make this up if you tried. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigtgFPG1E-zrOYWPdUjEULLnWJkPXOrx7j6hgH9Wk_efZMGzvj74RtawTkHYHH-Ef112EQx57DMPHqNZcsJIy5dfSJvUB46ba4_Ry7saRCyHxWcBCsDZxx_HAUY6eOHmtD5r4OrFAJuVlQ/s1600/sri++lanka+tea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigtgFPG1E-zrOYWPdUjEULLnWJkPXOrx7j6hgH9Wk_efZMGzvj74RtawTkHYHH-Ef112EQx57DMPHqNZcsJIy5dfSJvUB46ba4_Ry7saRCyHxWcBCsDZxx_HAUY6eOHmtD5r4OrFAJuVlQ/s320/sri++lanka+tea.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Beautiful Tamil tea pickers. Note the arse in the background is the only man and sitting chatting on his mobile phone while the ladies pick, gather and carry</i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We then haired it down to the Tea Country where we planted ourselves for Christmas, drank lots of strong tea and lay awake at night with our eyes out on stalks. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUX78a3dqkWwuB64SJ8EZiPvuYG3f47I9b3cTAD3dOWbN-k1aBAheiw6gTQSetYV9mik6cC_mFcj1kFlGoY844RRH110bP1MczGswjSP7XZRAjViSt5mTP4Xcyvv3SYIz6HpCezWuSODYC/s1600/sri+lanka+galle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUX78a3dqkWwuB64SJ8EZiPvuYG3f47I9b3cTAD3dOWbN-k1aBAheiw6gTQSetYV9mik6cC_mFcj1kFlGoY844RRH110bP1MczGswjSP7XZRAjViSt5mTP4Xcyvv3SYIz6HpCezWuSODYC/s320/sri+lanka+galle.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>There's the fish market and then there are the fish stalls on the beach. Tuna was running</i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Galle followed in the South. Unfortunately it's as heavy on the colonial architecture as it is on the little tourist shops and mediocre food, so we kept our stay on the shorter and sweeter side. </span></div>
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<i>For those of you mad enough to trust my travel advice, stay at Ulagalla for luxury in the cultural triangle, Madulkelle Tea Lodge for cabins in the midst, The Dutch House for the most romantic hotel of your life in Galle and Colombo Courtyard for the overnight stay in Colombo.</i></div>
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<i>Devour the rotis, curry and mangoes but the food isn't the highlight. </i></div>
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<i>Our best meals were in two Indian restaurants in Colombo: Chutneys and the Mango Tree</i></div>
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ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8036593945906003041.post-73367882624066263482012-11-28T15:13:00.001+08:002013-08-27T04:00:25.738+08:00Pick a name<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXdMuUm3GqraOfX-BpTjIY-95mcvaRn22RBjjMD06Pb2qC4m4SIaoGl-oBy9sW6ZOSQIG-eNoPg7BpO3b3SmjeUQAUpCCxHmnpj_A6bpuAlNQg_qNp3X67cs27r4X0NxekHrZayjSPuhc3/s1600/baby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXdMuUm3GqraOfX-BpTjIY-95mcvaRn22RBjjMD06Pb2qC4m4SIaoGl-oBy9sW6ZOSQIG-eNoPg7BpO3b3SmjeUQAUpCCxHmnpj_A6bpuAlNQg_qNp3X67cs27r4X0NxekHrZayjSPuhc3/s320/baby.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;">As more and more of our friends have babies, I notice that my heart skips a beat every time I mention their little offspring. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;">I'm terrified I've got the baby's name wrong.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm not usually bad with names, but this onslaught of new arrivals is a bit much for my tiny tiny brain, and not good for my nerves either. </span></div>
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ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8036593945906003041.post-72293915522214366552012-10-29T14:55:00.000+08:002013-08-27T04:00:50.735+08:00Feel the fear and do it anyway<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">So I finally decided it was time to start hiking in Hong Kong. I was tempted to write 'serious hiking', but I don't want to get ahead of myself. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Over the past two years, I've been procrastinating rather badly, choosing from a list of well used excuses: </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">- You know I get blisters</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">- It's raining</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">- It looks like it might rain</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">- You're too fast for me</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">- What if we go for lunch instead</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Anyway, not wanting to look like I wasn't trying hard enough, I decided to take on a somewhat tougher than average hike in Lantao (stages 1 and 2). The trail takes you up to Sunset peak and then back down again. I also decided to take on this hike on my own (refer to excuse #4 above). However, little did I know that I would really be alone, as in A-LONE, and that the hike would be a serious bum buster with endless stairs going up and then the same amount winding all the way down. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2AO7KqLHxdy9EkMOOfjLwVsQBAzjFPrIjoLfW3quH48UElpVEBLCwpRe6szdx6LP7aQxCSPrj2zrmu1J0AiUzD-HSiI6jgjgVGn8cHO76Yj8IJY3o9IIZRNA87suCnEu0x1XSnuEY5JXc/s1600/IMG_1151.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2AO7KqLHxdy9EkMOOfjLwVsQBAzjFPrIjoLfW3quH48UElpVEBLCwpRe6szdx6LP7aQxCSPrj2zrmu1J0AiUzD-HSiI6jgjgVGn8cHO76Yj8IJY3o9IIZRNA87suCnEu0x1XSnuEY5JXc/s320/IMG_1151.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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<i>Endless stairs of hell</i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As only the daughter of paranoid South African parents could feel, I spent about half the hike imagining I was in the <i>Hunger Games </i>and waiting to get shot/stabbed or kidnapped. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijYSg8kotecGF_DHljjng0aWdr5rxkOgj2NkSA8O_mEzlgFZ5wedVeqwLlVYJ02173aeDUDccweBK99-S_kDQ2CcjdDLhkK_zPj5ZgdauF8K4bGBFAA3bJTALG4aJ-MejV9VkryLQ7i56-/s1600/IMG_1181.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijYSg8kotecGF_DHljjng0aWdr5rxkOgj2NkSA8O_mEzlgFZ5wedVeqwLlVYJ02173aeDUDccweBK99-S_kDQ2CcjdDLhkK_zPj5ZgdauF8K4bGBFAA3bJTALG4aJ-MejV9VkryLQ7i56-/s320/IMG_1181.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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<i>View somewhere after the top</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqGnWjGvxsvVewNiAsPivQnfZzU6EZ3eUqMXBD8QJux-pRtWVvKM7_gScE1OST65pmUDAdw1ha288UJDo5vHiRiI8bB9iXnUZUHgVxskIgTPhdGvW30EnrXfYFS6z2jbFqNRrD_sVTJfym/s1600/IMG_1177.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqGnWjGvxsvVewNiAsPivQnfZzU6EZ3eUqMXBD8QJux-pRtWVvKM7_gScE1OST65pmUDAdw1ha288UJDo5vHiRiI8bB9iXnUZUHgVxskIgTPhdGvW30EnrXfYFS6z2jbFqNRrD_sVTJfym/s320/IMG_1177.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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<i>Sighting of small huts on the hill ..somewhat foreboding</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQrrSIpwE-6zY-pBD89utijHeD8nDwxgRxzMHrGv_tFWfzRzNplxCxwpU0o0fa8CKSZL9PzJ4Z-KE6zjJ5w1Ue9nPJS8zSADcmCTUkv5Vb57Ym-R2W1OVnO8xBX-yqo7GZpMhm5WPqJGQb/s1600/IMG_1168.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQrrSIpwE-6zY-pBD89utijHeD8nDwxgRxzMHrGv_tFWfzRzNplxCxwpU0o0fa8CKSZL9PzJ4Z-KE6zjJ5w1Ue9nPJS8zSADcmCTUkv5Vb57Ym-R2W1OVnO8xBX-yqo7GZpMhm5WPqJGQb/s320/IMG_1168.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<i> Forging on despite ominous clouds<span style="font-size: large;"> </span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now that I'm feeling more "can" about hiking than "can't" I might even venture out for more next week. </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">For those of you who want to know the details, here is a <a href="http://www.everytrail.com/view_trip.php?trip_id=852834">link to an overview</a>. This should be helpful for those of you who, like me, are navigationally challenged.</span></i></div>
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ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8036593945906003041.post-79247404032058589242012-10-08T17:40:00.002+08:002013-08-27T04:01:09.791+08:00French style<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">What is it with French women and their innate sense of style? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">As I sat next to this girl the other night, I mentioned that I didn't wear polo shirts as they look strange on me. She asked me where I had tried them on and I told her that I'd only ever tried them at Ralph Lauren. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">She took a sip of her wine and said, </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">"Well, that's the problem. Ralph Lauren polo shirts are too short. They're cut too wide. And the v at the front doesn't go low enough. That's why they make you look strange. You should go to H&M. They have a longer cut, lower V and a slimmer fit. They're perfect."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">That would have taken me about a million years to figure out. Or never. </span></div>
ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8036593945906003041.post-53996038014671701512012-09-12T18:43:00.000+08:002012-09-12T18:43:16.107+08:00Boys<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI3BpMOt0iVUuHghgCL1s76We0Od-ORez6XIKJ66a-V6KH-bAe13TyQcg-aMjHHPIoQip0VJEhNh39tR4gsHfLJSJBByl-fyzjiEtkLlsfqGPPGkqeDn3TIV_OwR9AY_n3XnktD-QHXjg0/s1600/boys+night.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI3BpMOt0iVUuHghgCL1s76We0Od-ORez6XIKJ66a-V6KH-bAe13TyQcg-aMjHHPIoQip0VJEhNh39tR4gsHfLJSJBByl-fyzjiEtkLlsfqGPPGkqeDn3TIV_OwR9AY_n3XnktD-QHXjg0/s320/boys+night.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Last of the summer wine</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I sat there expectantly. The only woman among four men in blue suits and socks sitting in my living room chatting excitedly over mountains of wine, cheese and crackers. I had thought I would be bored. Imagining myself having to listen to the ups and downs of the market and whether Hollande really is as bad as he seems to be. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I was wrong. The topic that commanded most debate and discussion was actually fridges. Should fridges have two doors, ice makers, be big enough to sleep in? Most importantly should they be Miele (No, you pronounce it "Miule". No! Mielee..) or liebherr. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Then they all gleefully bundled into the kitchen to make steaks over the stovetop grill (yes, Le Creuset is definitely better than Ikea, says one. But it's not quite clear if it beats Tefal, says another).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">And later. As as they sat there recovering, blissfully nursing their wine, polishing off the ice-cream and always making sure I was well topped up, sitting comfortably and wanted of nothing. As I sat there I thought. For the first time in my life. When we have kids, I wouldn't say no to boys. </span><br />
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ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8036593945906003041.post-21184345203619002002012-08-19T08:36:00.000+08:002013-08-27T04:01:37.883+08:00Dead ant<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I could not believe the sheer number of ants walking up and down our living room last week. The minute T left on holiday, they must have spotted their opportunity to settle in. Every night I would come home and find an entire village of them eagerly waiting for me. They weren't interested in food but were unusually social and only liked to congregate in places near my feet. Shudder.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I Googled "ants in HK" and found myself with numerous articles describing various strains - brown, red, small, with wings, without, termites... I wasn't exactly sure which category they fit into, so I ruthlessly murdered one and sat it down next to the computer, so I could give it a full biopsy. Brown and Big was all I could come up with.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I tolerated them for about three days and then I thought enough is enough and so decided that I needed to exterminate them before they turned into pets. In comes "Truly Care" who 'guarantee eradication of anything' without ' poisoning your children'. Sounded perfect. So I arranged to meet them at x time on x day and raced back from work to let them in and get on with getting this rather unseemly situation under control. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Of course I should have seen this coming. We walk in and there's not an ant in sight. Not one. Even the weevils in the spice drawer had gone into hiding. I could see the two teenagers from Truly Care with their satchels and chemical tubes rolling their eyes. They probably have a name for people like me. People who have phantom pests. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, they reluctantly sprayed our immacultately clean and pest-free apartment and left. I haven't seen an ant since, and have been feeling rather good about my proactivity, organization and domestic management skills. So good, in fact, that we invited people over for dinner last night. And just as we were sitting down for dessert, one girl discreetly reaches for me and says "I think there might be an insect under the table." I look and there it is. The very picture of ant revenge. The hugest cockroach I've seen in a long time. Lying on its back under the table. The Lord works in mysterious ways. </span></div>
ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8036593945906003041.post-62570266744736136342012-07-19T16:30:00.001+08:002012-07-19T16:50:17.761+08:00And so<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix7F2e-O-QKBybrgYrP8-H4aAMUfBvm89bdkPn81tdUxMlDX_OquXDTWzrytm38dej_yGAaorCCbou_IwYYDpabAV2BGqATcuaNufHaYvOUHV9tz_l-vzBc8qArRvGxzfn1AtiXQrtNO8F/s1600/progress+july+19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix7F2e-O-QKBybrgYrP8-H4aAMUfBvm89bdkPn81tdUxMlDX_OquXDTWzrytm38dej_yGAaorCCbou_IwYYDpabAV2BGqATcuaNufHaYvOUHV9tz_l-vzBc8qArRvGxzfn1AtiXQrtNO8F/s1600/progress+july+19.jpg" /></a></div>
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<i>Progress</i></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">... we finally jumped on the Hong Kong real estate bandwagon and bought the tiniest little apartment in Kennedy Town. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It was in rather poor condition as a family of 3 (+ maid) had somehow managed to squeeze themselves in there for the past 7 years. That's 4 people in about 400 square feet. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">In fact, they were so tightly squeezed that when I went to first visit, I couldn't actually see anything, as the beds, cupboards and people were everywhere my eye fell. The kitchen was the hardest to get a good look at, as I was only allowed to visit at 7pm, which meant the maid was always cooking up a storm surrounded by Snoopy-stickered walls and curtains - you know those curtains that people use instead of a door? Sometimes beads are used. Here we chose Snoopy curtains. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, Snoopy has now been removed, and we are in the process of heavy renovations/gutting. When I say "we", I really mean that t has rather lavishly employed someone to renovate as we're just sitting ducks to Hong Kong contractors. Can you imagine me negotiating the price of wooden flooring? I don't think so.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">The problem, of course, with outsourcing the job, is that you're expected to "let go" and "relax" as you're in "good hands" and "that's what you're paying for" after all. The problem is I can't. I secretly visit my little gem every day at lunch and check to see how things are coming along, and then I micro-manage like mad. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">In my head. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<br /></div>ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8036593945906003041.post-88191599152636130792012-07-09T21:45:00.000+08:002012-07-27T18:54:03.814+08:00What's in a font<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL2SUkGkbP4NSvaevoSQ-h-pUseYZDTyj5Agq6Ve5mOklZnnodlh-Ps1n6K-zo5m93AgJrpIEdpNJjlaX__f65L03nxiXlCrqYa34VF0CgOiZx5-M_HYavOo6knLUqVISPcjAKFoSMUCGe/s1600/um.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL2SUkGkbP4NSvaevoSQ-h-pUseYZDTyj5Agq6Ve5mOklZnnodlh-Ps1n6K-zo5m93AgJrpIEdpNJjlaX__f65L03nxiXlCrqYa34VF0CgOiZx5-M_HYavOo6knLUqVISPcjAKFoSMUCGe/s320/um.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Borrowed from <a href="http://suitorlife.com/product/CE94D4/Um./">Pinterest</a></i></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I've thrown myself into personalised correspondence cards in a big way. Surely, now that I have a new married name, everyone will want to see it at the top of my letters? Or not.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, I've decided to get them done in Sheung Wan, in a tiny little outpost, where a man sits under a plastic tent with a computer. He's just down the road from the snake poison shop amongst all the chop stands.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisdIp-yoyPFHccM1I5tsjZmt7z7h0Q3e6k827u7Pz6VSGHZRLyBY5cp5RNTIdGoU1qTsWt-PAwbEM0fygeuzEWFzijKrwVNBrLm2vbOhvHqpsrPqUPWu8ozYQN3_cQDWTl9tmhFmAvU_2b/s1600/df40e8d2d7d711e1a62d1231380fd04a_6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisdIp-yoyPFHccM1I5tsjZmt7z7h0Q3e6k827u7Pz6VSGHZRLyBY5cp5RNTIdGoU1qTsWt-PAwbEM0fygeuzEWFzijKrwVNBrLm2vbOhvHqpsrPqUPWu8ozYQN3_cQDWTl9tmhFmAvU_2b/s1600/df40e8d2d7d711e1a62d1231380fd04a_6.jpg" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: small;"></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Publishing outpost</i></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">But the humbleness of this little stand is a little mis-leading. Sitting under the plastic cover, my knees squeezed up again his tiny table, I asked him "do you have any samples?". To which he climbed out from behind the stand and reached over me to a huge tupperware, which contained a full selection of paper (any colour, any thickness, any size) and envelopes. "Pick one!". </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">So, paper and envelopes pretty much under control, the only thing I'm in charge of is the font. Who would have thought that picking a font would be so darn difficult? I've spent probably 10 hours mulling over Times, Copperplate, Engraved, Bodoni and Arial agonizing over what they say about me. What does it mean if the G is too big, or round or thick or swirly? Will it make me look too serious, ditsy, blonde, boring, weird? What if it's too big? Too bright? </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKRB6vjmwRIqTO3WCN3kVrOwYg3MmaGfVp4FgP1EuCBh8ZL5lVjzJfIHDLdBvQgZregUfgw7WM-OZdKPScF4MniX-xss4iAtCMmBiC03Nu34X6IyrcsTXVGjAC_SAjTaoVLOQLKRpSDMRM/s1600/bdaf5a3cd7d711e1ae9122000a1e8b03_6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKRB6vjmwRIqTO3WCN3kVrOwYg3MmaGfVp4FgP1EuCBh8ZL5lVjzJfIHDLdBvQgZregUfgw7WM-OZdKPScF4MniX-xss4iAtCMmBiC03Nu34X6IyrcsTXVGjAC_SAjTaoVLOQLKRpSDMRM/s1600/bdaf5a3cd7d711e1ae9122000a1e8b03_6.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>The hidden world of stationery (under plastic)</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, tomorrow I'm going back to my man under the plastic and I'd better have a font picked out, because he's going to press print and then there's going to be no going back. If you need me, I'll be on Google trying to carve out a personality. </span></div>
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</div>ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8036593945906003041.post-83411554343802622262012-06-26T12:29:00.000+08:002013-08-27T04:01:49.661+08:00Beijing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I am sick to death of traveling. Over the past 7 weeks I've been in Singapore (twice!), New Zealand, Paris and Beijing. Most of the trips involved long hours in conference rooms and endless PowerPoint slides. When I'm in charge, I'm going to forbid that awful program.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Someone asked me the other day how long I'm planning to stay in Hong Kong. I don't think I've arrived.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Here's Beijing.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio31l_tUYv9CRHKpnr3DqibPzRqR4HKxvrYJ34MBr5Xcn91bsjMfZcqOAZO8BGKrBE5DZWeVg4-j3db0IjHRAPN4zkJdnIAJtpyQLiJJK8QWNn5qdMPc_e-lzNoeQ8sNpGlOS4Gq4vqe2r/s1600/bei.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio31l_tUYv9CRHKpnr3DqibPzRqR4HKxvrYJ34MBr5Xcn91bsjMfZcqOAZO8BGKrBE5DZWeVg4-j3db0IjHRAPN4zkJdnIAJtpyQLiJJK8QWNn5qdMPc_e-lzNoeQ8sNpGlOS4Gq4vqe2r/s320/bei.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Messing around in boats in front of the Summer Palace </i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHbHLc1l3qbd-giPtTrJpPA1LpC-X-EO0E8bTyiaemwkl-Al379Yk_1EnhuU9rlQz0jS9emaSqInJnExNV1Sji3NGjoFte5NKyn0Jp0LZ-XETbUfokjrbqQr8GdHAwiAGXHTz21Hcy_G4Q/s1600/beijing+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHbHLc1l3qbd-giPtTrJpPA1LpC-X-EO0E8bTyiaemwkl-Al379Yk_1EnhuU9rlQz0jS9emaSqInJnExNV1Sji3NGjoFte5NKyn0Jp0LZ-XETbUfokjrbqQr8GdHAwiAGXHTz21Hcy_G4Q/s320/beijing+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>798 Art District. They do pipes in a big way</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQglMr9cwIRO-MkwnhNP-2sKW0gVez4eL0KY3pgKsXfz79dFQ687c_ynxr_9dpzTiT0xzzs1f3hx4wRjqSf9c0KHF0VK_3t2eCH-NoDHWWQsX7bPAYI0qKf6Ruu8-zpbqt0XScPTObkm-H/s1600/beijing+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQglMr9cwIRO-MkwnhNP-2sKW0gVez4eL0KY3pgKsXfz79dFQ687c_ynxr_9dpzTiT0xzzs1f3hx4wRjqSf9c0KHF0VK_3t2eCH-NoDHWWQsX7bPAYI0qKf6Ruu8-zpbqt0XScPTObkm-H/s320/beijing+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i style="text-align: center;">798 Art District. Again</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_yEw9708U2qzZ3Vo6c60ywHwfS2nUg6rucbo-gz6iI4JVDEi5nBY4DhJu5_IRDgW0Lb9qVeLtZ8jZL0TyMsdljwzx6jB8R743sT2jCmmmt2o8NyiBiFuqZeiFx6TM_8ZTv79_gt_JwzZ8/s1600/beijing+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_yEw9708U2qzZ3Vo6c60ywHwfS2nUg6rucbo-gz6iI4JVDEi5nBY4DhJu5_IRDgW0Lb9qVeLtZ8jZL0TyMsdljwzx6jB8R743sT2jCmmmt2o8NyiBiFuqZeiFx6TM_8ZTv79_gt_JwzZ8/s320/beijing+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"> </span><i style="text-align: center;">798 Art District. One of many galleries</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinbnivjvX5Z3tZVTYIoEMrkcV-1bETdSvXdbyPeEjrv-LdFtBJ0VC4Nsgeih3aw6B_TLPkkjnSZ_6gY7B66VNUirBrb5qNzMDbEwkF7TgUPhECzRITVjIMJZNEQ5dFvZ3aNqi-GiuN1S9Q/s1600/beijing+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinbnivjvX5Z3tZVTYIoEMrkcV-1bETdSvXdbyPeEjrv-LdFtBJ0VC4Nsgeih3aw6B_TLPkkjnSZ_6gY7B66VNUirBrb5qNzMDbEwkF7TgUPhECzRITVjIMJZNEQ5dFvZ3aNqi-GiuN1S9Q/s320/beijing+4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"> </span><i style="text-align: center;">798 Art District. Spanish Exhibition</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrvjGwNJE9ZcrGjmh2SlTluMvZk94ucx4cmJpdkm0HcR81VI5UpEFICAcAmdkJhNKIlVe_0daFdT13MYEYzUygCudNren-MBHWsJ4xOjCkT8OTBqIf1VEFhxfEgmiw-kG8uTlz8Cz2_a2V/s1600/beijing+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrvjGwNJE9ZcrGjmh2SlTluMvZk94ucx4cmJpdkm0HcR81VI5UpEFICAcAmdkJhNKIlVe_0daFdT13MYEYzUygCudNren-MBHWsJ4xOjCkT8OTBqIf1VEFhxfEgmiw-kG8uTlz8Cz2_a2V/s320/beijing+5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"> </span><i style="text-align: center;">798 Art District. Food</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyqdJg6zcyYUUrr-fuOgSaM2WQNbS_NCohM8LuevIaQQGOm1VTMdQqg4GtvQJrT2gmmnxq4DZhHgYK3tfxwiz4Y5qohS7XpfMMZARvynPm9rtnsSmc2FyBDCUwbQI-ZwZPdijkF1TRnWog/s1600/beijing+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyqdJg6zcyYUUrr-fuOgSaM2WQNbS_NCohM8LuevIaQQGOm1VTMdQqg4GtvQJrT2gmmnxq4DZhHgYK3tfxwiz4Y5qohS7XpfMMZARvynPm9rtnsSmc2FyBDCUwbQI-ZwZPdijkF1TRnWog/s320/beijing+6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"> </span><i style="text-align: center;">Forbidden City</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7hu0iF3OSqa53u8WcqVwjXPz2H_SsGRKlYQaoQIC8FflYuMDwu4wThC3Pb_Iy1VZtiNIq_GP6wmcm3TI_YFZHRG7jn1dF6RkriTURUzwno5vpfI4zeYTmOm-rmWpmF8bERylq4o22S41F/s1600/beijing+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7hu0iF3OSqa53u8WcqVwjXPz2H_SsGRKlYQaoQIC8FflYuMDwu4wThC3Pb_Iy1VZtiNIq_GP6wmcm3TI_YFZHRG7jn1dF6RkriTURUzwno5vpfI4zeYTmOm-rmWpmF8bERylq4o22S41F/s320/beijing+8.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"> </span><i style="text-align: center;">Our hotel. Loved it</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilWPrSvR4DOuaFozwlVpANm4w_CV_1dzBU_Vx4GRigoDWPMtZac3vcJQbUmcI4MhudisM_ZUnQ8a9cJkjE3OzqF7ZnktBU49VD9beTvS9dsi7RF95AbnqD-GyE1YQs3QLw8OQOIwHg9bt-/s1600/beijing+9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilWPrSvR4DOuaFozwlVpANm4w_CV_1dzBU_Vx4GRigoDWPMtZac3vcJQbUmcI4MhudisM_ZUnQ8a9cJkjE3OzqF7ZnktBU49VD9beTvS9dsi7RF95AbnqD-GyE1YQs3QLw8OQOIwHg9bt-/s320/beijing+9.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"> </span><i style="text-align: center;">798 Art District. Again</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfdK7xsqBDscBd1-uZfkbycABWK02VnOMx7SWge92rq03OelMq6pQYNTYU7V8vBleB-4g212tAKGjDBcRATXxhUrDiJexKcwlZTvAmIUQnELpjZ3T1XLHOIb9s41FG_Hfu40rZmsHxWPIO/s1600/beijing+10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfdK7xsqBDscBd1-uZfkbycABWK02VnOMx7SWge92rq03OelMq6pQYNTYU7V8vBleB-4g212tAKGjDBcRATXxhUrDiJexKcwlZTvAmIUQnELpjZ3T1XLHOIb9s41FG_Hfu40rZmsHxWPIO/s320/beijing+10.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Fair enough</i></div>
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<i>Forbidden City in the sun</i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Next trip - The Wall!</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Bumf for the enthusiastic traveler: </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Grace Hotel - wonderful paradise just 15 minutes out of town</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">G Hotel - If you like purple walls and changing colored windows, then this is your place</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Da Dong - Best duck in town</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Capital M - High tea by <span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;">Tienanmen</span></span></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Dali's Courtyard - Perfect for dinner under the stars</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Amalal - Mojitos </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: large; text-align: left;"><i>p.s. We loved it here, are learning Mandarin, and would like to live here and start a street stand selling pancakes</i></span></div>
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ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8036593945906003041.post-32069437401354682472012-06-08T20:18:00.001+08:002013-08-27T04:02:07.155+08:00Z Listers<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I was a little surprised to be the only woman in the small and shabby hotel gym today in Auckland. I was also a little perplexed as to why the Jacuzzi was so full of men who all obviously knew each other. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Had I mistaken the men's changing room for the gym? I stepped outside to check. No. It definitely said "hotel gym and pool". Odd. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">So I decided to ignore them and set myself to running and crying along with sob stories on CNN. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Afterwards I thought again how unusual it is for people to know each other in a business hotel. Seriously, when last did you go with your colleagues or clients to the basement hotel gym?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">So I asked Reception what the story was with all these sporty guests. He paused and blinked for a moment and said, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">"Have you heard of the All Blacks?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">o</span></div>
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ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8036593945906003041.post-61104505104320889682012-05-19T19:44:00.000+08:002013-08-27T04:02:28.168+08:00How not to eat pepper crab<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I knew the crab was a bad idea. The minute I gave into my Thai colleague's pleas that you-can't-come-to-Jumbo-seafood-in-Singapore-and-not-eat-the-crab, I knew things might go pear shaped. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">A bib would have helped, but as none of my colleagues nor my client were wearing one, I didn't think it would be appropriate to ask. But I was wearing a white shirt and cream trousers, so of course they were the perfect palette for "crab aux chemise" or "cangrejo con salsa de Massimo Dutti". </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Needless to say, the crab went all over my shirt (as I tried to tame its claws with a chopstick and a clamper). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">So I decided that the most sensible option would be to go to the bathroom and wash it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">The bathrooms were actually public bathrooms, so there were a lot of interested ladies walking in and out as I put too much hand soap onto my hand and smeared it all over my front. I then vigorously scrubbed my shirt, rinsed it, and while dripping wet, looked around for the much needed hand dryer. Given the way this evening was going, of course it had to be one of those new Dyson dryers where you put your hands into a little slot, rather than letting the air go anywhere. Not helpful when I couldn't exactly take my shirt off (this wasn't the airport) and I couldn't quite fit into the air dryer slot either. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">So I resorted to flicking my shirt (with feeling), hoping to get rid of some of the water. Clearly my flicking was too vigorous, as the next thing I notice is that I've completely shredded my shirt. Big, gaping gashes. Hulk meets Spring Break 2012 style.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">So out Hulk walked. Chin up. Demanded a bib from a waitress and sat down. No, I won't have any more crab - thanks, but-it-was-quite-delicious. </span><br />
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ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8036593945906003041.post-76755792320941026382012-05-11T16:44:00.001+08:002013-08-27T04:03:23.122+08:00Relief<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">In New York, I felt eternally young, while in Hong Kong sometimes I feel like I'm all grown up. Maybe that's because I was 29 and single for much of my time in New York, while in Hong Kong I'm a married woman who gets her hair done regularly and hosts small, yet entertaining dinner parties. Yawn.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Just as I was starting to feel particularly desperate housewifey, I was saved by the Nasser concert. Who's Nasser? No idea. Some random French electo-pop group from Marseille who I'd never heard of before. But the concert poster showed them looking sufficiently wild, sweaty and keen on lasers, that there didn't seem much to lose. The notification that the concert was going to be held in an old factory somewhere in the depths of Kowloon only added to the appeal. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">We arrived at the concert to find we were literally 15 years older than everyone in the audience. And boy were they having fun. Girls were kissing boys who were kissing girls who had their hands up skirts and chain smoking and posing and jumping off the stage. And this was before the show.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivN7P7ReBZ6bDLFsmgkfKixSDiKzj58e6YR1xNJV4W0aFlLF4WSLlW-dANk-WPKmMPiuxltoueSsd0MhzkMqgOZfxoJhRVRC5IwgPFK3odVJHU75pyX8WMRrNsJVPYrjL3P7Ap9_Z8CB-m/s1600/nasser+blue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivN7P7ReBZ6bDLFsmgkfKixSDiKzj58e6YR1xNJV4W0aFlLF4WSLlW-dANk-WPKmMPiuxltoueSsd0MhzkMqgOZfxoJhRVRC5IwgPFK3odVJHU75pyX8WMRrNsJVPYrjL3P7Ap9_Z8CB-m/s320/nasser+blue.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And then Nasser arrived, and the crowd went wild. And we danced and jumped and drunk out of beer cans we'd had to bring in from 7-Eleven</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwYZuQlsWFtnpqBEckC-6PuQLr_63SnvQqvxYpejDwKzW-N8wnKZBXhxNoT_vRpJAwAez6u_kFdO0-Ejsn2bpizIcpFfmCNlIkIQdrGRiK7kyVvAdieQaoVliwr30pr0W3UASc6uvnv-27/s1600/nasser+red.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwYZuQlsWFtnpqBEckC-6PuQLr_63SnvQqvxYpejDwKzW-N8wnKZBXhxNoT_vRpJAwAez6u_kFdO0-Ejsn2bpizIcpFfmCNlIkIQdrGRiK7kyVvAdieQaoVliwr30pr0W3UASc6uvnv-27/s320/nasser+red.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And then the lights changed colour and more people jumped and sang and sweated as the A/C machines stopped working and the keyboard player took his shirt off </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And then we traipsed back to Tai Hang for dinner.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Refreshed and ready for civilized life again</span></i></div>
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ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8036593945906003041.post-60944721051707823682012-05-03T15:23:00.000+08:002013-08-27T04:02:46.977+08:00Weekend at home<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It's so easy to fall into a rut and get used to doing the same thing and going to the same places. So last weekend, T and I decided we'd venture out from in front of our movie projector and poke around Hong Kong a bit.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Our mini adventure started in <a href="http://www.cafeloisl.com/">Cafe Loisl</a>. A small Viennese cafe which reminded me of Barcelona more than Vienna. Clearly I wasn't the only one, as 2 of the 6 tables had Spaniards sitting at them. Its tucked away location far away from the road and peaceful setting - broken only by the grinding of coffee beans - made it the perfect spot for me to catch up on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Thinking-Fast-Slow-Daniel-Kahneman/dp/0374275637">Kahneman </a>(fave book right now) and T to read the <a href="http://www.lesinrocks.com/">Inrocks </a>(T's fave mag ever on earth).</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Ubm3-w3Mgqc1dYr5-THQyQrPwORCuzRBrzpFrem6HRIDECxSLpGH0pPIxfm5jAGmXW1NEK2NjVVHaPUk-2XZ3mgoSg2buJPP9guPA7MDicMCO4Q2M1eiTKrEAmWpjdzXibDMjvcJvM7y/s1600/loisl+insta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Ubm3-w3Mgqc1dYr5-THQyQrPwORCuzRBrzpFrem6HRIDECxSLpGH0pPIxfm5jAGmXW1NEK2NjVVHaPUk-2XZ3mgoSg2buJPP9guPA7MDicMCO4Q2M1eiTKrEAmWpjdzXibDMjvcJvM7y/s320/loisl+insta.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Serene hideaway for Apple Strudel fans. Hang around there on a Saturday for the mo</i><i>uth watering mille-feuille </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">The next day (we wouldn't want to exert ourselves too much), we headed off to <a href="http://www.openrice.com/english/restaurant/sr2.htm?shopid=75012">Piccolo </a>in Kennedy Town. It has quite a reputation as it's owned by the famous Les Amis group who also own <a href="http://www.lesamis.com.sg/index1.html">Cepage</a>. However, Piccolo couldn't really be much more different.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQGZMWugpqdAL2ou5R0j5gWmBVKF4Y_wcjwEpg5PWPEZn-bm89lWiHjcnBPnAkd2JEiHSRefIrXlmI5_lLk-ls848xk5oKzr1btC9FCFIEPLfETpYtZipyVyhQvVrelPXeb4cq971dMmLM/s1600/piccolo+insta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQGZMWugpqdAL2ou5R0j5gWmBVKF4Y_wcjwEpg5PWPEZn-bm89lWiHjcnBPnAkd2JEiHSRefIrXlmI5_lLk-ls848xk5oKzr1btC9FCFIEPLfETpYtZipyVyhQvVrelPXeb4cq971dMmLM/s320/piccolo+insta.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Pizza looked fantastic. I had salad. Saint.</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUJ0X8CsgCI2VCU4ymv8HvfoLrdd56VAfD6-ds3SmISG1daJlYpSl_hhFTQhnR_zDhLsfmzcfJUpqQQQZZYsi8IiOGcDYJPetOILn86H746bLDl_vGRlbp-VhJfl6-zCYmiuGyTntMPiqo/s1600/piccolo+insta+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUJ0X8CsgCI2VCU4ymv8HvfoLrdd56VAfD6-ds3SmISG1daJlYpSl_hhFTQhnR_zDhLsfmzcfJUpqQQQZZYsi8IiOGcDYJPetOILn86H746bLDl_vGRlbp-VhJfl6-zCYmiuGyTntMPiqo/s320/piccolo+insta+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Seriously unassuming decor - such a relief from all those places pretending to be unpretentious but failing miserably (think <a href="http://www.pulinosny.com/">Pulino's </a>in NYC)</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">We ended the weekend at <a href="http://www.caffehabitu.com/">Caffe Habitu</a> in Causeway Bay. Probably the most comfortable armchairs in Hong Kong. Food looks pretty mediocre but cupcakes and coffee deliver. Perfect spot to recover from IKEA in (unless you're one of those people who "test the beds" in IKEA, in which case you won't be needing any more rest).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Chaos and cupcakes at Habitu at Leighton Centre</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixdnK9kKqgysTWm0RRNS2mzpUZj2u3V-AYzDf8BVaxqWWb0D_8fE1iGXww2vhnrGoZGA3p3Ju7zhyIzfzR2PFYAsdWOmQgalkySVPx3J39sTncSIPpYnGd7i_JbsQ-XOeIpVV8yNhujJBF/s1600/habitu+instat+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixdnK9kKqgysTWm0RRNS2mzpUZj2u3V-AYzDf8BVaxqWWb0D_8fE1iGXww2vhnrGoZGA3p3Ju7zhyIzfzR2PFYAsdWOmQgalkySVPx3J39sTncSIPpYnGd7i_JbsQ-XOeIpVV8yNhujJBF/s320/habitu+instat+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<i style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Still can't do this at home</i></div>
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<i style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">p.s.</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhcgaeZ_idlmCyFzExpQJmAoo2-dGXpvCSDfdoG0K3kOOsTiGCWtsfLms1tfNUZtmWu9FIjYkuSsqdnGSQVVn9yBk0syOZY438iNdiM_bjRgFnQsQNlZB4WXltGgIJDIT3nbt38r-FD78i/s1600/china+insta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhcgaeZ_idlmCyFzExpQJmAoo2-dGXpvCSDfdoG0K3kOOsTiGCWtsfLms1tfNUZtmWu9FIjYkuSsqdnGSQVVn9yBk0syOZY438iNdiM_bjRgFnQsQNlZB4WXltGgIJDIT3nbt38r-FD78i/s320/china+insta.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<i style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Yes, we're still in China </span></i></div>
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ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17483443766916963478noreply@blogger.com4