The costumes were mind-blowing–if I could have taken pictures, I would have. Bought a program, which was the next best thing.

The songs brought me back to when I first watched (and fell in love with) the movie. Back then, we’d pop in the casette tape of the soundtrack in the car, sing along, and never get tired of it.

The entire cast just brimmed over with talent–young Simba and Nala were played by precocious Filipino kids It was a thrill watching them perform.

The production even injected a bit of Singapore into the show. How? You’d have to see it for yourself

The only thing that would have made it better was if mom was there to watch it with me. She missed it by a few days! I bought the program for her, but there’s nothing like seeing it on the stage. I hope one day I can watch it with her, and it’ll be my treat.

click.

(taken during the annual Molly Malone’s St. Patrick’s day street party)

We love our chili crab! But IMO, I still prefer No Signboard’s chili crab and cereal prawns.

Next on my chili crab list — Sin Huat, also in Geylang

I’ve got a little over a month left in the Lion City–everything’s up in the air as to plans, and I don’t really know when and if I’ll be back. Being the hopeless procrastinator that I am, I have compiled a list of things to do in Singapore before I leave (in no particular order):

1. Henderson Waves (Southern Ridges walk) 

2. take a bumboat around the Singapore River

3. revisit Underwater World in Sentosa (for their Night Ocean Discovery Program) — yes, I am a marine geek

4. Celebrate St. Patrick’s Day in Singapore (and Molly Malone’s street party!)

5. Marina Barrage

6. check out the LBD exhibit at the National Museum

7. Singapore Art Museum and check out the Southeast Asian Film Festival

8. Peranakan Museum

9. dragonboat on the Kallang River

10. one last brunch at either P.S. Cafe or Jones the Grocer (*sigh*)

11. last chili crab @ G7 [done!]

12. Fort Canning Park

13. Jurong Bird Park

… kahit isang beses man lang matawag kitang manoy. hehehe di naman halatang mas matanda ako diba?

happy birthday dre! Just wanted to let you know that I’m in this corner of the world celebrating your birth in my own way. 

I look back now and I remember the scrapes and misadventures we got into as kids in Gatchalian. Back then you had a best friend named Andrew, and I had a best friend named Michelle.  We played Atari and bahay-bahayan with the other kids on the street (with your first crush, Beng beng, remember? yiheeee ), climbed up a gravel mountain dumped on the empty lot at the end of the road, fished out tadpoles from that same lot and then left them on the gutter afterwards, go next door to play with Marc and Hazel, got stung by waps and bees, bitten by dogs, dug out a huge hole in the garden one rainy day, filled it in with water from the hose, and then waded in it (where were our yayas then?!), and opening the gate for mom and dad whenever they arrived home (shouting at the top of our lungs, “laban!!” ala Edsa 1).

Those were the days when we had all the pasalubong to ourselves, wala pang kahati kasi (hello Dino and Dan! ). I remember late nights when they’d come home brining greenwich pizza (pre-jollibee acquisition, of course). You hogged all the Yakult (because I never liked it even then) and we drank our fill of Chocolait (when it still came in those cool glass bottles), devoured twin popsies like there was no tomorrow, gorged on pritos ring (habang nangangapit-bahay), and ran out the door for taho and dirty ice cream (though for a time they wouldn’t let us have taho because there was plaster in it). 

And you were already quite the ladies’ man back then. I still remember how you’d point out your crush’s house whenever we’d pass it (somewhere along Sucat, i think). And you had a thing for older women. Tita Judy was one of your girlfriends, (and then, in an insane sort of triangle, later on you became Natasha’s first love–breaking Dan’s heart in the process ), and you were madly in love with Tita Mely, and you’d proudly proclaim that she was your girlfriend… in front of all the adults–including her husband!

I remember how you’ve always LOVED japanese food, even then. Every year it was the same, Saisaki for dinner with the family and Joseph and your other friends. Every. Single. Year. [now its good old TB, but mostly because you guys know how I'll react. ] And every single year someone would end up with horrible indigestion or puke in the toilet because of overeating (I think the record was seven full plates?). 

And now you’re all grown up and now we’re just growing old. Gatchalian, BF, even 17-B are now distant, somewhat fading memories. Still, all things considered, I think we turned out well We may have had our epic battles (such as The Great Pugad Baboy Skirmish, which Dino and Dan can never forget hehehe), but i hope you know that even when we argue, when we fight, when we annoy each other, I will always be your ate, I always want you to be happy, and I will always be here for you. Kahit gusto kitang sakalin minsan I’m blessed to have spent the early part of my childhood with a brother as malikot, makulit, and magulo as you.

Last na.

I will never forget what you told me (and how you said it), way back when I was going through a lot and I was so angry and lost. You may not know it, but that was one of the sweetest, nicest, most thoughtful things you’ve ever done for me, and I really appreciate it. I still have it, and I reread it from time to time–no longer with angst, but to remind me that I am surrounded by people who love and accept me for who I am, warts and all. (Oh, and I share what you wrote with friends who need to hear it too–and it never fails. ) Love you!

Have a great day ahead, dre!

Love,

Ate

This is definitely one for the books.

Against all odds, through divine intervention, I am on a plane flying home. Hammered, dehydrated, parched beyond belief, starving, but here, nonetheless. Sure, I’ve got the worst possible seat in a plane that has seats to spare (last row, middle seat, adjacent to the lavatory, overhead light not working), but I’m too happy, too damned relieved, to care.

Now that I’m on board, I’ve got 3 ½ hours to take stock of the consequences. I’m now shifting from survival- to damage control-mode. Fallout accounting has now started.

About last night…  Cringe, cringe criiiiiiiiinge. So many questions. How did I make it out of the house, into a cab, get to my building, up 17 storeys, into the house, into my room, and on my bed? And at which point did the scales of sobriety tip?  When did my autopilot mode switch on?  Last thing I can recall was sitting in a couch talking to people, then everything went blank. Next thing I remember, I’m in a cab, raving like a lunatic, whining about my digital camera and crying because I was worried about my grandma! Argggggggh. I hope (most likely, in vain) I didn’t make a huge bumbling fool of myself. What the hell happened last night? I want to know, but maybe I ought not to know.

Still, I owe a HUGE debt of gratitude to my angels (two of whom had to endure the cab ride home with me) who took care of me, without whom I probably would not have made it home.

All that I’ve left behind. Where do I even start? This time around, forgotten items litter the path home. The list includes, but is in no way (and unfortunately) limited to, the following: Cab ride home—my share of the cab fare, any last shred (atom, even) of dignity. At ground zero, the scene of the crime – my digital camera (!!!!!!!!), gifts from the secret santa auction, cheese (Parmesan and cheddar, which are now either taking up more space in their already bursting refrigerator—or in a garbage bag somewhere), my dignity. At home (where do I even begin?)—various Christmas gifts for people back home, Christmas gifts for my landlady and her family (which I should have given yesterday, dammit!), curry leaves for cooking (which, by the time I get back, will have turned into a moldfest. At best.), a printout of the recipe that I was going to use the aforesaid leaves for (which wasn’t even mine but my landlady’s and which I had to return!), a pack of steamed bao that I was supposed to give to a friend (but thankfully, in the freezer), my iPod (at least, I hope it’s somewhere at home), packs of sauces (for making claypot chicken rice, salted fish and eggplant), toiletries (regrettable but replaceable at the very least), plane tickets for the wedding in January (thank God for e-tickets), most of the clothes I meant to pack (mostly because I woke up, saw the time, zipped up all the bags and got the hell out of there),  my journal.

On the upside, I didn’t have to pay the excess baggage fees, (thanks to my half-empty suitcase), I didn’t forget my laptop or my phones (albeit the batteries of both are dead and I don’t have the chargers) and my passport, IDs and wallet are with me. I just hope my luggage made it to the plane as well.

This isn’t to say that I’m not eternally grateful. I can’t say it enough that dealing with the fallout is infinitely better than getting left behind. Here, I have options, remedies, and opportunities for damage control. Had the plane left without me, I would not only have had considerable explaining to do (which I’ve got to do in any case), but a logistical nightmare booking another flight out during the busiest season of the year.

I’m thankful for divine intervention. How else would I have found a cab as soon as I got to the curb, arriving minutes before my flight, endured a heart pounding, gut-wrenching search (thrice given the wrong directions) for the check-in counter (which turned out to be closed, but by a miracle I managed to check-in anyway), ran (in high heels!) from the counter, through immigration, to the other end of the terminal and to my designated gate. Divine intervention, I tell you. Someone up there sure is looking after me. Talk about a holiday miracle. J 

But before anything else, I need to rehydrate. I’m probably the only one drinking Gatorade blue on the rocks here, but hey, I’ve got to replenish those lost electrolytes somehow. Hydration trumps hunger (not that I could ingest anything right now given the queasy state of my stomach).

Two more hours before touchdown. I can’t wait J

Apart from the usual order of sake sashimi, I chose the baked potato with cheese.

Not strictly japanese, but still…

cheesy potato goodness

A few bites of that and my two companions were transported to the wintry holiday season they have actually experienced Apparently, that sort of food evokes memories of ski lodges, fireplaces, what have you. Who’d have thought? I just like potatoes and cheese

The next night, we went out to celebrate the quarter life of a very good friend. His choice of cuisine: French. His choice of restaurant: Absinthe. Good wine, fabulous food. To start with, some Terrine de Foie Gras, Gelée de Banyuls, Petite Salade et Toast. And for mains, Carré d’Agneau Gallois Roti, Endives Braisées Croquette de Patate Douce Au Cumin, Jus au Thym. And pour moi, filet mignon with french beans and potatoes.

It was heavenly…

filet mignon, anyone?

After all the plates were cleared, we sprang a little surprise on the birthday boy–bring out the cake!

feliz cumple!

Watami

ION Orchard #B3-23

2 Orchard Turn
Singapore 238801

Tel: (65) 6509 9366
Fax: (65) 6509 9368

Operating hours: 11.30am to 10pm

Absinthe

48 Bukit Pasoh Road
Singapore 089858

Tel: (65) 6222 9068

Opening Hours

Lunch : 12pm – 2:30pm (Mon – Fri)
Dinner : 6:30pm – 10:30pm (Mon – Sat) [last order is at 10.30pm]

I decided on an order of popiah, Singapore’s version of  lumpiang sariwa (spring rolls). I wanted to try something else, but I didn’t want to go overboard and order their nasi lemak. A quick scan of their menu and I saw something which I mistook for siomai, which was called soon kueh. Hmmmmm. I’ve never seen it before, and it looked interesting (and somewhat familiar), so I ordered it as well.

They sent out the soon kueh first. Instead of several little dumplings, there was just one big dumpling.

soon kueh, up close

It was the size of a small siopao, but it resembled hakaw. I couldn’t wait to try it. Then came my popiah, and so it was time to eat.

Played it safe and tried the soon kueh first. Yum! It was a dumpling, steamed and filled with turnip strips. Similar fillings as that in popiah, actually, but with crunchy flakes on the top drizzled with hoisin sauce. Mmmmm. Gamble paid off.

So it was on to the old reliable popiah (pictured above). It was pretty good. This one was meat and seafood free, unlike the popiah that I tried in Newton Food Center a few weeks back. As usual, I ate both ends first and then worked my way to the middle. By the time I got to the last segment, I was too full to finish it.

Just checked online, and apparently Qiji has a few stalls closer to town. Mmm. I think I’ll do a return visit within the week, for their soon kueh

Total bill: 3.10sgd (1.90 for the popiah, 1.20 for the soon kueh)

Qiji

Heartland Mall, Kovan

205 Hougang St 21
#01-133/135 Heartland Mall
Singapore 530205

thanksgiving turkey--and no, this is NOT what i feasted on

There was no way my first (American) Thanksgiving was going to be one of those traditional Rockefeller-type dinners.

spot the tankers in the horizon

Dinner, yes. Indoors, no. Think prayers offered for the rain gods to shy away, think beachside barbecue–and oil tankers in the distance? That’s East Coast Park for you.

Our American friends valiantly trooped to Barbecue Pit no. 64F, hangovers notwithstanding, to prepare for the feast. No turkey–but plenty of barbecued pork and chicken skewers, grilled veggies, and mock meat kebabs. Salads, tater tots and corn on the grill were plentiful, as were chips. Beer, wine and vodka overflowed. Throw in some amazing portobello mushroom enchiladas and authentic fajitas (our Mexican friends’ contribution), Canadian-Dominican chicken wings (c/o Jonathan and Laura, who provided the recipe but failed to put in an appearance), dried mangoes, and German apple pie that did not have to be baked*, and you’re starting to get the picture.

No big football game (hell, no TV!), but we did kick around the football (read: soccer ball) a bit. And there was a Frisbee just waiting to be tossed and caught. And, yes, we stuffed ourselves over and above the protests of our stomachs. It’s thanksgiving. It’s what you do.

enchiladas, anyone?

And while we never got around to the part where people say what they’re thankful for, it just has to be said. I am thankful for that feast, for  family and friends, for this wonderful experience, and for having had the pleasure and privilege to get to know such a fascinatingly diverse group of people.

——————

*German “Apple Pie” recipe

1 shot vodka

apple pie, german-style

splash of apple juice

squirt of whipped cream

cinnamon for topping

Instructions:

- pour ingredients into mouth in that order (refrain from swallowing)

- swirl the mixture, then swallow.