Updates

Thank heavens for progress, i.e. the free wifi at the Manila Domestic Airport. I'm waiting to board a flight to Boracay for our third wedding anniversary (yes! Three years!) and thought I'd use the downtime for some quick updates.

Marlon and I are home for the holidays and so far it's been great. I didn't realized how deprived I was of any sort of Christmas spirit in Singapore until I got home and saw the crowds gathered at Ayala Triangle for Simbang Gabi and the light show. Pilipinas, iba ka talaga mamasko.

Our big move has finally started to feel real, now that we've locked down important details like our final departure date (January 13), where we will be living for the first three weeks (we chose a serviced apartment 35 minutes by tram from the city centre over a hotel smack in Dam Square, simply because the former seems more livable for a longer period), and what will happen to our beloved cat (she's on the same flight as us, yay!).

Still, it hasn't completely sunk in yet. But I figure there will be plenty of time for that. It will probably really hit me when I am freezing on the streets of Amsterdam.

That's it for now. Hope you all had a fun Christmas and have a great New Year ahead! And maybe the next time I blog will be from Singapore right before we set off for this next big adventure.

From happy to happier (hopefully)

A few weeks ago, Marlon and I saw a window display for a book about the world's happiest countries. Imagine how gleefully we chortled upon seeing how our soon-to-be ex-home and our soon-to-be future home stacked up against each other on the list!

Moving 77 places up the list is not too bad, ey?

Though Singapore and I have not exactly been a match made in heaven, we've had some great times. And for a place that ranks below Kosovo, Bosnia, and Kazakhstan on the happiness list, it's done very well for me these last three years. For obvious reasons, there are tons of things I'm looking forward to in Amsterdam. But to be fair, there are also a lot of things I'll miss about Singapore.

The food. Singapore is where I really fell in love with Asian food. For some reason in Manila, if you want gobsmacking, very authentic Asian food other than Chinese (say Thai or Indian), chances are you have to pay through the nose for it. Not so here. Great food is abundant, very affordable and truly diverse. Unfortunately for me, I have enough added poundage to prove it!

Black pepper crab, my all-time favorite Singapore dish

The professional growth. Coming here stretched me professionally. I probably wouldn't have pushed myself to take on production if I had stayed home; being shoved out of my comfort zone led me to discover the little payoffs and sweet spots in what seemed, many times, like a muck of difficulty. Among other things, I learned that being "fast" and "nice" is well and good, but not enough to carry me forward; not when there are other things to be, like "reliable", "accurate", "professional"... and so much more.

My last shoot with BDA for the Disney Channel in Kuala Lumpur

Finding the courage to leave a job that I'd loved, but had lost my love for was a daunting risk that paid off. And both learning that I'd done well enough for other people to want to hire me, and being able to sustain a financially rewarding freelance career out of that, have done wonders for my professional confidence.

Our house. I will miss our house! It may be out in the boonies as far as Singaporeans are concerned, but  I've loved living in this green, quiet, low-density, sprawling complex.

Our home has been an expression of Marlon's and my still-developing identity as a newlywed couple. We've had so much fun decorating it (even if I did end up getting rid of half the furniture), making my first culinary steps (and mis-steps) in it, hosting the many guests of "Hotel Plazo" (or Palazzo Plazo, as Pauline calls it), just holing up and getting cozy on leisurely weekends, and yes, even messing it up when we just get too damn lazy. I enjoyed the comforts of home especially over the last six months when I started working freelance.

 The view that tells me the workday is over

It may not be a Town & Country or even a Real Living kind of place, but it's been our home. And I sure am going to miss having a pool...

Singapore = 1, Amsterdam = 0

Note to self: must swim more this week! Barring Boracay and Bohol in December, God only knows when I'll get to swim next!

Multicultural colleagues and friends. The locals may complain about us "FTs" or foreign talents (some even go as far as to call us foreign trash), but Singapore sure knows how to attract people from all over the world. (Whether they actually stay and put down roots is another story.) There are just so many expats here.

Happier times at BDA

I've had the chance to work with people from China, Hong Kong, Taiwan, Malaysia, Vietnam, Thailand, India, Japan, Australia, the US and the UK; some of the dearest friends Marlon and I have made here are from as far away as Colombia and South Africa.

Just like when I traveled to Europe with the Glee Club, meeting people of different cultures and backgrounds makes you realize there are so many different ways to live, so you don't feel completely insane for making certain decisions. (Like going freelance and moving to Amsterdam, for example.) 

The infrastructure. When locals whine about their infrastructure, sometimes I just want to slap them and say "Please travel more! And you'll see that in this world, you're lucky just to have a country that works!" Because public transport here is pretty awesome.

It's why we haven't felt the need for a car for three years (seven years for Marlon). And it's why I don't understand why one of the most widely circulated newspapers in the country prints letters to the editor that are about such pressing problems as puddles (yes, puddles) in MRT stations and heated pleas to the government for an in-train display that lights up to tell you what stop you're at and on which side of the train the doors will open. (People! It's four freaking MRT lines, not rocket science! Have you seen the metro systems in Paris, Tokyo, Seoul?)

But I guess discovering malfunctions in such a well-oiled system can be like paying through the nose for tickets to Disneyland and finding out that Space Mountain is down for repairs. Oh, and I'll miss cabs.

Cabs are my biggest vice here by far. Never mind the cabbies and their driving. I'll miss relatively affordable taxi rides (relative to Europe, that is), being able to book taxis via SMS, and having them arrive in minutes. Ohhhh. If I think about it too much, I might get depressed. On to the next.

The large, and growing, Pinoy community. The number of Pinoys in Singapore has boomed since I first started visiting Marlon seven years ago. And the demographic is changing; for the first time in the history of Singapore, there are more Filipino professionals than Filipino domestic helpers. Nowadays, I catch snatches of Tagalog nearly everywhere I go. It's like living in Makati. Or sometimes, Katipunan.

With Singapore-based high school and college classmates (Justine was visiting)

It's great to be able to speak Tagalog to someone (most often on the customer-facing side of things) to break the ice, get things done, or simply create instant rapport. It's even better to run into old acquaintances and rekindle friendships. And best of all, because of the large Pinoy community, it's easy to get a lot of things home. In the mood for longganisa, daing na bangus, sukang pinakurat, even pan de sal? Lucky Plaza lang ang katapat niyan.

Proximity to home. Cheap flights were a godsend for me in the first few months here, when I was still very homesick and hadn't found work. Later on, as I started to make a home for myself here, the Philippines became our destination of choice for short getaways.

 Happiness in Bohol

I tried going to a few other beaches (Phuket, isdatchu?), but I guess there really is no place like home. It's just ironic that I could only really afford to travel around my own country once I got out of it. When plane fare home moves up by from three digits to four next year, I am sure going to miss being able to hop on a Philippine-bound plane at the drop of a hat!

The home stretch

Here we go, folks. I'm officially hitting the home stretch: my last seven days in Singapore. After that, it's home for Christmas and to wait for our Dutch visas to be issued at the Dutch embassy in Makati. 

We have no idea what date we'll be starting our new lives in Amsterdam, as Marlon's new employers won't book a flight until the visas are issued, which puts us in a kind of travel limbo. But I'm confident that at the end of this limbo is Europe, and you can't imagine how that thrills, scares and excites me.

The euphoria has been derailed somewhat by a nasty fever that has knocked me out for the past two days. I've been mostly zonked out on paracetamol, but in between naps I got into mini fits of paranoia and panic.

The first one was about finding an flat. "The flats are tiny and expensive! Everyone will be out to stiff us! We don't have money to burn like every other expat! We're not on some giant expat package! Zzzzz."

The second one was about getting things done before we leave. "I don't know what to buy Marlon for Christmas! I need to go Christmas shopping! And buy a steamer! And the Eames chairs! And Sally Hansen wax strips! And have lunch with Maya, dinner with Sila, a barbecue with office friends, and squeeze in yoga everyday and... zzzzzzz."

I had a whole list of things we wanted to do before leaving Singapore, which included finally trying Buddha Jumps Over The Wall (a mysteriously named and very expensive Chinese dish), dinner at Cocotte, brunch at the Botanic Gardens, and one last black pepper crab at Jumbo. (Is it obvious what I'll miss most about this country?) But with the clock ticking, I think I'll be content to simply pack up all our stuff, get some exercise, and say a few goodbyes. Anything else will be a luxury!

A game of chairs

Lately, I've been obsessing about decorating our soon-to-be home in Amsterdam. Excited much? We haven't even gone on house viewings yet! Since I've already been looking at flats online since getting my first whiff of this possibility way back in April, I have a rough idea of the kinds of places we'll be seeing. And I've had a lot of time to start forming a picture of how I might want our new home to look.

More often than not, the one constant in the shifting pictures in my mind are classic Eames shell chairs. Over the past few years, I've seen them in some really lovely homes on some of my favorite design blogs and have grown to really like them. They work well in all sorts of homes, bridge the gap between contemporary and vintage, and pull eclectic furnishings together beautifully. They seem to work especially in small spaces (which I'm anticipating) because of their clean lines.

 

All images from Design*Sponge.

And so I've been considering buying a pair of Eames chairs for our new home. I know, I know: aren't I supposed to be unloading furniture so I can have the pleasure of discovering new treasures in the flea markets of Europe? I just really, really love the look of these chairs! (So much for making an intelligent argument.) But I do see them as classic investment pieces that work pretty much anywhere and everywhere. And I know that once we move to Europe, getting them cheap is going to be next to impossible.

I also think they might go well with a recent purchase: an authentic marble-topped kopitiam table. I love these tables and thought it would be a terrific piece of Singapore life to bring with us into the next stop on our journey. The proportions are perfect for the tiny kitchen/dining spaces I've seen in a lot of Amsterdam flats.

Image from Second Charm.

Marlon and I found some decent, affordably-priced Eames reproductions at a store called Picket & Rail at the Furniture Mall on Beach Road. He likes the classic shell chairs well enough, but he fell head over heels in love with the rocker. Which adds another layer to our dilemma.

Image from Design*Sponge.

The movers are coming to pack up all our belongings in exactly a week's time. To buy or not to buy? A single rocker (cheaper but more occasional) or a pair of chairs (more expensive but will get more use)? We have to decide soon!

Conversations with cheapskates

Wherever there are sales, there will surely be bargain hunters. And fortunately or unfortunately for us, our recent spate of unloading brought some real Scrooges out of the woodwork. Just in time for Christmas!

Craigslist Cheapskate: (Buying a two-seater couch worth $49) How old is this couch? The cushions look worn out. The paint looks worn out. I can give you $20 for it.
Me: (In my mind) If it's so old and worn out, then what kind of loser are you to even want it?
Me: (In reality) Sorry. The couch has been sold.

Gumtree Cheapskate: (Buying a bookshelf worth $49) Hi. I really love the shelf, but I checked transport and found out that it will cost $50, which is more than the cost of the bookshelf. I don't want to insult you, but only way it will work out is if you can sell it to me for... $10?
Me: (In my mind) You don't want to insult me? Honey, you just did!
Me: (In reality) *DELETES EMAIL*

The penny-pinchers weren't just virtual; we got real live specimens at our garage sale, too. Now I'm no stranger to garage sales. We've moved a lot so we've always had them; a couple of years ago ACS did a really successful one in QC where nearly everything was wiped out.

When you see a crowd made up of maids, tricycle drivers, market vendors with five kids hanging on to their skirt at your sale, you expect to give away things for dirt cheap. What really irks me is that these cheapskates who showed up at our garage sale  drive, were dressed well, wore gold watches and branded bags. And I'm supposed to believe these people can't afford a frigging Swarovski crystal figurine marked down to $5?

Cheapskate # 1: (Picks up a crystal figurine marked $5) This one got no tail ah.
Marlon: It's a bear. Bears don't have tails.
Cheapskate: No. I think should have tail.
Marlon: ...
Cheapskate: I think you broke tail. I give you $1.
Marlon: One dollar! Are you kidding?
Cheapskate: Made in China what.

Marlon: Everything's made in China these days!

Sold! To the man who failed zoology for $3!

Cheapskate # 2: (Picks up an unused H&M shoulder bag) How much is this bag? I buy it for my daughter, she just started her internship.
Me: It's $19.
Cheapskate: Wah! $19 too expensive.
Me: It's unused.
Cheapskate: You buy bag outside got cheaper one. I give you $10.
Me: You can't buy a bag that looks like that for $10.
Cheapskate: Can what. You go OG, they got bag for $10.
Marlon: Okay, go OG then!

Unsold! Nek-nek mo, ni wala ngang H&M sa Singapore noh! 

Cheapskate # 3: (Picks up an unused digital photo frame, still in the box, marked $29) Wah, so small ah. Seven inch only. I want bigger one. I give you $10.
Marlon: You can't get this small one for $10. How will you get a bigger one for $10?
Cheapskate: Got no stand ah.
Marlon: It's in the box.
Cheapskate: This one used ah.
Marlon: It's still in the box.
Cheapskate: My friend say pay $10 only.

Sold! To save sanity and brain cells, a bargain price of $15!

At may pahabol pa yan.

Cheapskate: (Picks up luggage lock, which is not for sale, off the kitchen counter) I buy your frame, you give me this padlock free.
Marlon: What? No!

Sigh. I didn't want my last memory of Singaporeans as a people to be these penny-pinching vultures. I think I need to go eat some black pepper crab now so Singapore and I can part on warm and fuzzy terms!

Thoughts from a tindera

With the prospect of European flea markets and Dutch design beckoning at us from across the miles, Marlon and I agreed to take as few of our current set of belongings as possible to make space for new finds. 

This plan excites the stuffing out of me because I love design, I love vintage stuff and I've been longing to sink my teeth into a good flea market for years! And Marlon? He's just been itching to tear through the house stuffing junk into a big black garbage bag. Having first moved to Singapore with just two suitcases, he's always remarked to me with a mixture of wonder and horror how much stuff we've accumulated since... well, since I've moved in. And I have to admit he is right.

After spending a couple of hours being overwhelmed by just how much crap we had, Marlon and I decided to divide the tasks according to our strengths. I, being the internet addict, would sell our furniture on Craigslist and Gumtree; Marlon, being the brawny male, would haul all the stuff we wanted to get rid of into the living room for a good old-fashioned garage sale. 

The man has visual merchandising skills! A must-have in every husband.

Let me tell you, the last two weeks of organizing all these sales has taught me much, the hard way, about furnishing a home.

First is, take your time. Marlon and I were nest-crazed newlyweds who powered through the entire process in just a few weeks. Haste leads to waste; it also leads to Ikea. Which is cute and fun and great for a newlywed budget, but not for everything.

It's not that our stuff is hideous (on the contrary, we've had a good number of compliments on our home), it's just that it seemed ridiculous to go through all the trouble of shipping furniture made of particleboard planks *ahem*Ikea*ahem* all the way to Europe. For example, our bookshelves, as cleanly designed and useful as they were, might not even make it in one piece!

Happy to have sold this baby for a decent price. Cat not included!

Second, furniture is an investment; buy only things you'd want to keep forever or those that will command a decent resale value. I had my fair share of buyers who agreed to take my stuff, but when factoring in the cost of transport, found that they would pay almost double what they intended to spend. These people just flaked out on me altogether, and it pissed me off. In the end, I had to sell things for dirt cheap just to dispose of them.

I am amazed by my friend Ayessa, who lived in Jakarta for a nearly a year with only a bed and appliances until she and her hubby could save up for solid antique teakwood furniture. Talk about willpower! It is stories like these (plus awesome design blogs like Design*Sponge and Apartment Therapy, among others) that inspire me to put more time and care into furnishing our next home. And happily, Marlon has agreed to let me be the captain of that particular ship.

So as I bid farewell to our bargain-priced furniture, I also say goodbye to Ikea rampages and impulse buys... and hello to mood boards, flea markets and (crossing my fingers) some very thoughtful shopping!

Bantayan bliss

The plan started out as a simple one: fly straight to Cebu from Singapore, then hop on a bus and a ferry to Bantayan. After the last two beach destinations being the highly developed (but still gorgeous) Boracay and Bohol, I was in the mood for a rustic getaway and was totally up for three hours on a bus and an hour and a half on the ro-ro.

Then this whole brouhaha with the Dutch work visa requirements happened, and we suddenly had to fly off to Manila to careening around in various taxis for the greater part of a week. Bantayan became a place to while away time while the Dutch embassy took their sweet three days rubber-stamping our documents. And so by the time we hauled our tired asses to Cebu, I had had just about enough of public transport, city-hopping, and adventure.

So imagine my relief upon arriving at Bantayan and beholding the rustic luxury of our room at the Bamboo Oriental. I consider myself fairly low maintenance (no stranger to the kubo and kulambo here), but after a week of running ourselves ragged, I gave myself a huge pat on the back for deciding not to go the backpacker route with our accommodations this time around.

As my friend Susie would say: "Sah-weet Jeeeesus!"

I knew Bantayan was a little bit out of the way (even Kate's sweet grandma living in Cebu asked us, "Why are you going all the way there?") but I was more than a little surprised at how deserted it was. After Boracay and Bohol, it seemed positively desolate.

Little town, it's a quiet village...

Bantayan is a long and narrow island, and we were too harrowed by the aforementioned careening to go and explore further than we needed to go for food, water and the occasional bag of V-Cut. (Imagine our surprise when one of the store owners told us to wait for the ro-ro to arrive with the V-Cut and mangoes.) Our tip of the isle, near the Santa Fe port, had one sleepy but impressively clean main thoroughfare with a handful of restaurants and bars (the most colorfully named being the Hard Kock Kafe) and a small market. We tourists were far outnumbered by the locals for sure. 

 

But hitting the beach I stopped being unnerved by the lack of humanity. You realize you have this tranquil stretch of golden sand and turquoise shallows pretty much all to yourself, and you just melt. 

Some of the most blissful parts of it all were the two mornings we got up at daybreak to take photos. There was something hypnotic about the reflection of the sunrise on the shallows, in the contrast of silken waters with rough sands.

Even if it rained on two out of the three afternoons we were there, I'd still say the weather was perfect. Having baked in the sun all morning and well past lunchtime, we'd cool off on the veranda watching the storm clouds roll in from the ocean. It was wonderful to just feast my eyes on the wide expanses of dove grays and navy blues, to actually see rich, mesmerizingly moody colors occurring somewhere other than a retail environment and labeled the latest fall/winter "must-have."

On the one afternoon it didn't rain, we just holed up in the room when it got too hot, watching the sunlight stream in through the cheesecloth curtains and painting everything with a light liquid sheen of gold.

Nights were cool with a stiff breeze, and we spent hours just watching the clouds swirl, the stars move and the moon set the ocean on fire with silvery light.

And on our last morning, Bantayan bid us a very memorable farewell with not just one massive rainbow slicing through the sky and plunging into the horizon. As in I looked up from my book and almost dropped my book, it was so huge. 

Of course, just one rainbow wouldn't be special enough to remember Bantayan by; it had to reflect faintly against the clouds, so that it looked like there were two or three rainbows in the sky at any given time. And though my camera didn't capture the three rainbows distinctly, my mind will always remember them. 

Thank you, Bantayan, for the break we so very badly needed!

Take home

When I'm in Singapore, home is husband, house, work and routine. But the moment I touch down in Manila, home is my friends, my mom and my mad, unbelievable city. Every trip becomes a search for and rediscovery of pieces of myself to take back with me, so that I never really leave home... and home ends up being wherever I am.

And so after a week and a half back home, this is what I have brought home with me.

Triple-certified birth and marriage certificates for our Dutch work visas. The main purpose of our trip was to get our NSO-certified documents authenticated by the DFA, then legalized by the Dutch embassy, before submitting them to the relocation agency, who will be applying for our visas in the Netherlands.

I must say the process was a lot less painful than I thought it would be! I was really impressed with the DFA; I went in my grottiest outfit, ready to sweat it out for at least half a day, but both our visits (to submit and to pick up the documents) lasted for no longer than half an hour. Progress at last!

New clothes. Thanks to the miracle that is foreign exchange, Manila always means cheap shopping for me now. (Oh the days when Landmark was the pinnacle of my consumer ambitions!) I scored a dress from Cecile Van Straten's new collection for Heather Miss Grey, a jewel-print tee from the Ramon Valera collection at Freeway, plus a funky cat-print blouse from one of the small stores at Anthropology in Rockwell. 

A whopping crush on Akihiro Sato. On Friday night in Bantayan, I flipped on the TV while getting ready to go out to dinner. Big mistake. Survivor Philippines: Celebrity Showdown was on, and it kept us glued to the boob tube for a full hour. That must have been the most telegenic final four on Survivor, ever. I'd seen Aki before but with the full grizzly beard... rawr! Kume-Keanu Reeves ito!

New books for my already tall pile of unread tomes. After cheap clothes, cheap books are always a great buy. I found Beauty and Spindle's End by Robin McKinley (highly recommended by Gutsy, the YA lit expert), The Fashion File (a book on the style of Mad Men, by its costume designer Janie Bryant), and Nina Garcia's Little Black Book of Style, each for less than I'd pay for a taxi ride in Singapore. By far, though, the best book buy of the trip was Pacific Rims by Rafe Bartholomew.

I've never sat through an entire PBA game in my life, but I was astounded at how many memories this book dug up for me, how many names rang so many bells. Everything people have told me about this book—that you can't put it down, you'll laugh out loud, you'll love it even if you don't like basketball—is absolutely true.

A few new pounds. I managed to check off quite a few items on the list of my favorite comfort foods on this trip. Chocolate chip pancakes at Pancake House, a Regular Yum with Cheese at Jollibee, coffee pie at Cafe 1771, and pritong saging na saba at my mom's were just a few of the highlights. And of course, danggit and Cebu mangoes every day in Bantayan!

Freckles and a tan. Thanks to four days of sun and surf in Bantayan (plus two more beach trips scheduled for December), I am now well on my way to being the envy of all the Dutch with their pasty midwinter complexions!

A papier-mache and resin horse. How random is that? About two years ago, a hundred different Filipino artists took part in an auction that had them apply their own artistic touch to a taka, or a traditional papier-mache figure from Paete, Laguna. I got wind of it online and ended up buying a taka by sculptor Juan Sajid Imao, son of National Artist Abdulmari Imao and perhaps best known to us Ateneans as the maker of the crucifix at the Church of the Gesu.

I bought it sight unseen and it turned out to be huge! So the taka got stuck at my mom's for a while, and eventually it had to be repaired. I sent it back to Sajid, who was gracious enough to repair it, fortify it with a hardier structure and pack it for transit. 

We took it on the plane back to Singapore with us, and we get to bring it with us to Amsterdam with no shipping costs involved. It was also awesome to meet Sajid and his wife, who are such a warm and gracious couple.

Food for the heart and soul. Friends, family, music, and laughter... all the stuff that home is about.

I also ended up taking home a whopper of a flu that leveled me for four days after I got back. But considering how ragged I got running around and zipping back and forth to get this huge bounty of take-home goodies, maybe I should've expected it!

A case of the woollies

Literally.

The number of packed suitcases parked in Marlon's and my already cluttered bedroom speaks volumes about how our lives are going to go for the next few months. The aforementioned case of the woollies was the first to come into existence: we quite literally filled a suitcase with woolly, warm winter wear the weekend Marlon decided that he would take the job in Amsterdam. 

Buying winter wear was one of the things we were both so excited to do; we unleashed our pent-up consumer lust upon Timberland for boots, Uniqlo for unbelievably cheap but otherwise excellent quality cashmere, angora and wool tops, plus down jackets and Heattech innerwear, Zara and Winter Time for a few sweaters and a long coat for Marlon, and Muji for a few basics for me. 

One suitcase multiplied into two as we started dredging up all our existing cold-weather wear, although I am still in need of good woolen trousers, maybe a new pair of jeans, at least one more pair of closed flats and a coat. I just have to be careful that in my excitement to be fashionable (as Jonathan puts it, the "pang-mayaman" look), I buy things that will actually keep me warm.

The other suitcase is packed with clothes for an emergency trip home to Manila, which we hastily booked when we found out from the relocation agency (very, very late in the game—obviously they don't know what it's like to relocate Filipinos) about the requirements for our Dutch work permits. 

That suitcase holds grotty clothes for the day when Marlon and I have to line up to get our NSO-certified birth and marriage certificates authenticated at the Department of Foreign Affairs (I fault Singapore for many things, but the fact na pwede kang umoutfit habang naglalakad ng papeles is not one of them) and a nice dress for the day when we have to take those NSO-certified then DFA-authenticated papers to the Dutch embassy for legalization. Don't you just love being a Philippine passport holder?

Thank goodness we booked a beach getaway to Bantayan, Cebu over a month ago. That trip gives us something to do to decompress from the stress of engaging with all that bureaucracy, and while waiting for all the papers to be stamped, legalized, processed and whatever else. And that's what suitcase number four is for.

Decisions, decisions

The other evening, Marlon called in to his company's headquarters in the States for his exit interview with HR. Occasionally bits and pieces of his conversation would drift over to me, and this is one of the bits I'll always remember.

Actually, no. Compensation was not a factor in this decision... Ultimately I decided on what kind of life I wanted and let the job follow that decision, rather than decide on a job and mold my life around it.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is one of the many, many reasons why marrying this man was the best decision I ever made.

Going Dutch

I am happy and tipsy and the company of old friends.

We are drinking and celebrating and one of the things we are drinking to and celebrating is a brand new start for the new year... when Marlon and I move to Amsterdam.

We broke out the bubbly and reminisced about the days when we college buddies would drink together at one in the afternoon, and it seems so much like those times now except we can afford better alcohol, there are no parents to hide from, we don't have to sober up and run to class, I'm married to one of those college buddies and the house we're drinking in is my own.

In the background stands the pieces that make up a home that Marlon and I made and loved and that we will leave in two months' time. People are coming to take away those pieces one by one (we have takers for the bookshelves, the couch and the floor lamp) and all I feel is gratitude and excitement.

 Life is good :)

Melt like butter

I just woke up from a five-day stupor called "my birthday celebration," orchestrated by my previously highly secretive, wonderfully indulgent and all-around amazing husband. There are so many things to blog about, but for now let me just squeal like a girl.

CRUSH ALERT!

This tattooed pastry chef made and personally served me two desserts, a handful of chocolate bonbons and the most precious, pearlescent chocolate egg on my birthday. Each bite was unforgettable (and I don't exaggerate), but the hotness serving them was one of the most unexpected birthday treats ever.

This is a two year-old clip, but we mustn't look a Google gift horse in the mouth... that there's video of this guy at all is something to be thankful for. Watch him in action and melt like butter. Or chocolate. Or both.

Front Burner: Andrés Lara from Chicago magazine on Vimeo.

Mmmm. Sarap!

... ng tsokolate.

Trains on the brain

It seems I've been in this train-obsessed phase as of late. It may have started with a short film that I watched in my very first screenwriting class (yes, I'm taking a class! More on which later). Strangers by Erez Tadmor and Guy Nattiv is set on a late-night train (in what looks like Paris) and I liked it a lot (so clicky the linky!).

For reasons that are apparent if you've seen the film, it stayed with me. So for my first screenwriting assignment, one of my three short drafts was set on a train. Following the age-old advice to "write what you know," I wrote about a routine (commuting by train) and nestled it in a memory (the Paris metro). It went over quite well, and it's going to metamorphose into a short screenplay over the next two weeks.

My final assignment for photography class was due the same week. I was cramming, with just one afternoon before the class to shoot a series of photos on a single theme. It was a debilitatingly hot day, I had zero ideas for themes or subjects, and all I wanted was to stay indoors. I thought I would just hop on the train, wait for ideas to come to me and get off wherever something fired up my wilting imagination.

Then it hit me. I didn't even have to leave the train station!

Thanks to my sister, who sent me this great article on the best places to practice motion blur shots, I achieved my two-pronged aim of completing my photography assignment AND beating the heat!

A reversal: still train, moving people. By the way, all these long exposures were taken with no tripod. My teacher was amazed and said I must have an iron grip.

I stayed for a good twenty minutes without realizing it was bawal to take photos in the MRT station. Wala namang humuli sa akin. 

Finally I stepped off the platform and into the train... where I was lucky to sit right across from this adorable little girl. Who by the way was both eating and drinking in the train.

Then I transferred to the green line and off at Kallang station, because I remembered that I had been there once before and found it very striking.

Motion blur is fun! Wheee!

And THEN I realized I had always been curious about the old railway station at Tanjong Pagar. It's a train that actually takes you all the way to Malaysia. Built in the 1930s, the station stands on property that's recently been turned over to Malaysia by the Singapore government.

Diba, parang Grand Central lang? My thought bubble upon seeing the station for the first time was: Meron palang ganito sa Singapore? I was really sorry I didn't have a wider lens to capture the whole interior. There were many, more accomplished (or at least better-invested) shutterbugs there the same afternoon with bigger lenses than mine.

I was happy to have visited while it's still a fully operating train station—operations will be shifted to Woodlands, closer to the Malaysian border, starting July 2011.

A significant proportion of the crowd at the station seems to be old-timers who go to the station to kill time and grab a bite. 

In fact, I've heard more about the authentic Malay grub at the canteen from people I know than about them actually taking the trains.

The mood seemed a lot more slow and sleepy than any of the other train stations I normally pass through.

But no matter how many things change, I guess there will always be someone rushing to catch the train.