Mine alert

Day 3: 24 Dicembre Domenica - Xmas Eve
Woke up with bloody, freakin mother of a headache and felt that the room was spinning. Both of us overslept and poor Ou Hok was waiting for us till it was time to fetch G and M to the airport for their flight home. Close to noon, I forced myself to stomach some brekkie w A at a cafe across the road but when the food arrived, the vomit also did. So I hurried back for a lie low till around 3plus when the universe stopped breakdancing on its head and we were ready for more sightseeing.

Since this was the last day of our temple pass, we hurried to Banteay Srey, some 30+km or an hour away. It was touted as one of the smallest but also prettiest with delicate ornate carvings fashioned out of pinkish sandstone, instead of the usual dull grey laterite. We arrived 5mins late at 5.05pm, delayed by the extremely bumpy dirt road where Ou Hok skillfully twisted and turned his handlebar to avoid the potholes. Initially the guards refused to let us in although we could still see some visitors inside the temple. Ou Hok told A that if we gave them US$5, they'd let us in. Merda.

I was at first reluctant standing by my principle but I figured since we had come so far, it'd be a terrible shame not to see it. The temple was serene and deserted by this hour, save for a family and us who were taking our time exploring the grounds. The beautiful classical Khmer art was truly evident from the deeply etched carvings and dainty apsaras covering every inch of the temple.

We left shortly as the temperature dipped and light dimmed at sunset, and bounced up and down on our even bumpier ride back in the darkness. There was no luxury of street lights, only woodfires lit outside their basic rural huts - probably good for cooking dinner and keeping the mozzies away. The countryside scenery was worth the hour-long trip alone and we smiled to the villagers including scruffy kids who ran shoeless after one another.

The backlane of Pub Street offered us more traditional Khmer cuisine, this time at Le Tigre De Papier, where A had DIY BBQ platter and I nursed a taste-bud awakening lime fish soup, washed down with fresh coconut juices (US$10 for meal). Next to our restaurant, a group of street musicians who were also mine casualties performed traditional Khmer music for a living while kids as young as 5 peddled US$1 postcards and travel books to foreigners.

The Old Market area was always bustling at all times of the day as you'd find shops, internet cafes, restaurants, pubs and galleries concentrated at this intersection. After yet another unsatisfying US$6 massage this time at Dr Feet, we popped into Blue Pumpkin, a slick spanning-white cafe, for a slice of average pineapple custard tart and watched the procession of musicians, bighead dolls and mini fireworks - probably their way of ushering Xmas. Buon Natale, tutti!

Day 4: 25 Dicembre Lunedi - Natale
After a splendid early brekkie, Ou Hok ferried us to the Cambodian Landmine Museum some 20mins away for a quick history lesson on war. Started by this fellow Aki Ra who's the same age as my brother, the museum didn't impose a fee (accept kind donations instead) and appeared to be just a makeshift kampung hut but what were on display gripped our attention. There were collections of mines in all variations; small ones that were design to maul a leg to big anti-tank cylinders that would rip a heavy vehicle apart to the kind attached with an invisible wire that you'd trip and set it leaping in mid-air to kill 20 in one blast.

I was memerised and haunted by the amateurish drawings and posters explaining the atrocities carried out by the Khmer Rouge who killed as freely as they farted, and had no qualms taking lives from the young to the old. Between 1975 to 1979, an estimated 3 million people died under Pol Pot's communist regime. Even to date, the landmines victims kept escalating and some have found refuge at Aki Ra's. In Siem Reap alone, there are 27,000 casualties including innocent kids who played in unchartered fields. It was depressing to learn that they'd take up to a century to find and clear every mine.

It was a sobering experience just reading Aki Ra's account of his childhood and his daunting efforts in setting up this museum to educate and reverse the curse in his country. As we surveyed the bombs, Ou Hok recounted matter-of-factly that he remembered when he was 16, the US warplanes were carpet-bombing their country and how they'd run in the opposite direction of the planes to avoid them. I couldn't imagine how they had lived thro' such a horrifying experience and still managed to grin and bear with their current hardships.

We made a small donation and gave out more sweets and pencils to the smiling beautiful children at the stall outside. The youngest pin-sized girl started crying because all the older taller kids were reaching over her head for the gifts, ignoring my pleas "Wait, wait, there's one for everyone!" Ou Hok had to gather them around to pose for a group shot before we waved goodbye to the gleeful bunch.

To get a glimpse of culture, we stopped over at an artisan centre to see how the tradition of carving is kept alive today by the Cambodians. It was quite amazing how the young girls could magically fashion a block of stone or wood from a simple buddha or apsara paper cut-out into an artpiece that can fetch up to thousands of US dollars.

Still hungry for more history, we had a leisure tour of the deserted War Museum (US$3 each) to view the relics of war from the old fighter plane and helicopter to all kinds of tanks, anti-plane guns, rocket launchers, guns, grenades, mines - all cruel reminders of the brutalities of war. Why do men invent these horrible things? Why do people continue to fight and kill one another? Why??

Before we left, Ou Hok told us that his friend who is in his 30s and also a tuk tuk driver, was a former Russian-trained fighter plane pilot and could speak a few foreign languages fluently. Wah, one would never tell. There's so much going on under the surface and behind the stoic smile of everyone here, that it was terribly disturbing and depressing.

Since it was still early, we managed to catch the action inside the Old Market where locals were bargaining noisily with traders selling fresh produce like live fishes and turtles, the greenest vegetables and fruits, the most pungent spices, dried fish and raw meat, to heaps of clothes and shoes. The wet market is one of my favourite haunts in any place and stupido A had to spoil it for me by complaining how dirty it was and kept hurrying me to leave! Aspetta!

He was cheered by the souvenir shops outside where we bargained for some colourful woven scarves and then a sumptuous lunch at Soup Dragon, a Vietnamese-Cambodian restaurant located at the corner of Pub Street. We should have come here earlier as the food was terrific.

Imagine the freshest rice paper rolls with shrimps (US$2.50), fluffiest deepfried eggplant with a sweet-spicy dip (US$2), and fragrant fried chicken with finely chopped lemongrass and ginger (US$3) heaped onto our bowls of rice. The weather was rather warm today so we chilled out at the hotel's pool till late afternoon and we walked back to the Old Market area for tea at Blue Pumpkin and our last dinner at Khmer Food in Siem Reap.

Angkor rise n' shine

Day 2: 23 Dicembre Sabato
Peeled our eyes open at 4am and slurped down a really salty and expensive porridge for brekkie at FCC with Gio & Moi, before we were ferried by Ou Hok in the wee-hour frigidly cold darkness and silence to the majestic Angkor Wat to catch the obligatory sunrise. I loved the cool sting on the face as the pre-dawn breeze kissed and blushed my cheeks when we travelled on that familiar straight road in the cool dense forest after the ticketing gantry.

Ou Hok dropped us at the main west entrance which was already lined with tourists huddled in each's strategic spot for that Canon-perfect sunrise shot. I kiasu-ly tiptoed from left to right and still couldn't recognise any angle in that postcard picture. Where's the hell is that freakin' lily-pond? Too late. In less than a minute, the sun's first rays crept up and cast a warm reddish glow over the looming silhouette of Angkor Wat's distinct temple peaks. Shot one down.

Shot two led us over the bridge and surrounding moat, beyond the first gate and right into the vast courtyard where more shutterbugs clicked away frantically at the fast-changing light. There were two small stony structures (libraries) and two ponds on both sides. One of them was very crowded and in my sleepy haze, I didn't switch on my brain and think twice. It didn't strike me till a day later that that was THE spot to photograph Angkor Wat's reflection! F@ck, C@zzo, Merd@! Missed the one shot I was waiting for. Boh, I had to come back again then.

Like the Great Wall of China, Eiffle Tower and Merlion (ha), Angkor Wat is Cambodia's national pride and an unmistakable symbol flying high on their flag, handicrafts, tourist shirts and souvenirs. Meaning the 'Capital' or 'Holy City', it was built during the reign of King Suryavarman II as a tribute to the Hindu God Vishnu. Vivid evidence depicting the early legends could be found all over the temple, particularly the intricate bas-reliefs around the lower levels.

Too early for digesting the reliefs, we headed straight into the heart of A.W. and surveyed the imposing pyramid of peaks above and inner walls trapping more apsaras and graceful carved columns. I was actually dreading the moment when G suggested to do what everyone was doing - climb to the top. From my perspective craning my neck up, the eroded steps and steep rugged slopes could very well be our fall to death. But did anyone listen to me? Nooo... In a minute, G and M had disappeared over the top of the edge like Spidy on speed while I was still entertaining A playing the host of my travel show "Avventure di Carla".

Midway thro' the ascend, I looked down and waved at A's video cam - a big mistake - because in that instance, my legs buckled and knees locked in place. I froze like a cat caught in headlights and struggled if I should continue my climb up or worse reverse down. Either way, it was not pleasant. F%ck, if I don't do this, I'm a pussy cat and will defintely regret it! Panic crept up behind me and the scenery suddenly seemed a bit wobbly. Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus on your hands. You can do it. Grip each stone. Well done. Move slowly like a sloth up each step. I yelled to A: 'F%ck, I can't do this, I'm having a panic attack'.

A quickly came up as my cheerleader and rallied alongside untill we reached the top finally - phew! I must confess I normally do not have a fear of heights so this was bizarre. The view at the top was breathtaking and well worth the risk of limbs. I particularly loved the play of shadows and light on the carvings and pillars... and it was so tranquil up here soaking in the panorama all around. We braved the steep slopes down and this time I clung tightly onto the safety railing while descending faced-down. I told the camera 'At least if I slip, I know where I'll fall.'

Walking around, we also came across a few Buddha statues clad in bright saffron that stood out from the sea of grey. The local caretakers were shuffling in the background, offering joss sticks and dusting the smooth time-shone floor, while I tried to capture it all and still remained respectful in a distance (f%ck, camera battery running dead!).

The lower level bas reliefs were extensive all around Angkor Wat and took us nearly a good hour to admire the stunning smiling apsaras - all gorgeous! - and to trail the Hindu legends carved on every inch of the walls. It was a sobering thought when you try to imagine the glorious past of the Angkorian empire and how it subcumbed to the crimes of war, greed, poverty and neglect. I do hope that all these US dollars levied on the tourists would at least be pumped into restoration efforts and not into the deep pockets of corrupted officials.

At 10am plus, we were so zonked that we returned to our hotels for a rest before lunching at Traditional Khmer Food restaurant at the cosy backlane parallel to Pub Street. This time, we lapped up the Khmer mixed curry, grilled marinated spare ribs, beef with egg in oyster sauce and our perennial can't-do-no-wrong grilled eggplant with minced pork (US$16 in all). Ou Hok then drove us to Angkor Thom, literally meaning 'Big City' a sprawling moated royal ground manned by 4 gates and the Victory Gate. This was the last capital of the Angkorian empire, so you can imagine the sheer size and efforts poured into it.

Taking centrestage was the jaw-dropping Bayon Temple, celebrated for its many giant carved faces that adorned the stony towers. At one point in history, the Bayon was alleged to be covered in gold-leaf - a sure sign of its power and fortune. Now it was just a sea of grim greyness but nonetheless impressive and surreal by its domineering headstones and multi-faceted carvings. Inside, the shadowy corridors were cooling and silent. We climbed up to the top level to see upclose the blissful smiles of the Bayon faces. They seemed to be sharing a secret that perhaps Indiana Jones could unlock. I could envision booby traps laid somewhere deep inside leading to a treasure chest full of gems, gold, silver... Ok too much imagination, but indulge me per favore.

The ruins lay about sadly in broken heaps like pieces of puzzle waiting to be solved. It could take forever to sort them out and they were in a desperate state, battered by the natural elements. I felt heartache for the apsaras covered in layers of dust and eaten up by mold. After being revived by cold coconut juices, Ou Hok, who was forever patiently waiting for us, pointed us to the Prasat Baphuon (closed for renovation), Phimeanakas, Terrace of Elephants and Leper King. The latter had a secret hidden chamber and the wall was stacked full of animals and asparas carvings.

We were quite templed out by now and the lack of sleep made it worse, so everything was starting to look 'same same'. However the 12 towers of Suor Prat were a serene picture lining the royal greens even in my sleepwalking state. As usual Ou Hok spotted us first and rushed forward in his tuk tuk to relieve us from temple fatigue. He was like a hawk despite his age and soft gentle demeanour. A and I likened his features to the Bayon or a benevolent Buddha; thick padded lips, strong brows and thick lashes, kind smiling eyes.

We passed by Angkor Wat at sunset and the place was packed with tourists and locals enjoying Saturday day off picnicing with the family. Put off by the crowd, we lingered at the entrance for shots of the monks in their bright saffron robes and a local wedding party garbed in starched-stiff white suits as well as traditional colourful costumes. A also gave out the sweets and pencils to the children vendors, some still in their school uniforms, who swam around us with outstretched hands.

In the evening, we seeked out a much needed rub down at a traditional Khmer massage parlour, run by Ou Hok's cousin (US$6 for an hr), The giggly girls in their late teens weren't very skilled especially mine who simply rubbed the oilment on my leg without any real relief. Famished, we circled Pub Street and its surrounding lanes before we settled on some surprising good pizza, Angkor beer and live soccer action. We sent Ou Hok home so he didn't have to wait for us and tipped him US$10 on top of the US$20 for today's service.

Siem Reapin' it

Day 1: 22 Dicembre Venerdi
Yawn, finally I finished packing my backpack at 2am, got up 2 hours later for the l'aeroporto and touched down without a hitch in Siem Reap, Cambodia at 7+ local time. My mind was still in its own time warp, having survived yet another budget flight *kiss ground* and was nudged awaken by the refreshing cool 17 deg C air outside. Ah, benvenuto! On the brisk taxi ride, we were tickled by the rows of Korean restaurants and signs upon nearing town. Breakfast at the cosy cottage-resort Auberge Mont Royal was a shot in the arm; service was as warm as the freshly baked loaves, the pineapple-ginger jam sticky and addictive, and did I mention the weather was fabuloso?

No news from Giovanni yet. Darn, he must have overslept. Impatient, we caught one of the waiting tuk tuks to nearby FCC to wake him up instead! The hotel was molto chic -a tad extravagant at US$130 a night compared to our modest US$30 - but I could see where the money went. As we stepped out, I recognised Ou Hok who came to greet us. My sis had highly recommended him as our tuk tuk driver as he had proved reliable and personable on her last trip. Plus he reminded us of our dad with his tanned wrinkled smile and quiet resilience - perhaps that was reassuring.

He drove us swiftly in his trusty tuk tuk to Tonle Sap 20 mins away for our first glimpse of the famous floating village at Asia's largest freshwater lake. How big i heard you ask? At a whopping 160km long X 36km wide, it can swell 10 times easily during the wet season. Slapped in the craddle of Cambodia - which incidentally is surrounded by Thailand, Laos and Vietnam for the geographically ignorant, it is the bedrock of the country's livelihood.

We opted for the hardly 2hr excursion (a tad steep at US$15 each) hopping onto one of the many parked long boats at Phnom Krom's pier. Leading to it, we peered into the rows of dusty makeshift huts and surveyed the shoeless wide-eyed kids running around in the sunbaked dirt. The living standards were atrocious to say the least - most of the homes seemed to lack the basic clean water and electricity, much less our modern comforts and luxuries.

Our scrawny 20 year-old guide Pol - who looked 15 - was very forthcoming and pointed out the floating schools, basketball court where he played, church, hospital and the various communities of Cambodians, Muslims and Vietnamese. As our long boat motored lazily thro' the thick swamps to the lake, Pol hid under his severely thick winter coat from the blazing sun till we reached a vast body of water which would be presumbly the lake. Except in our heads and experience, we were expecting to see the perimeters/ shores on the opposite side for it to qualify technically as a lake. In this case, all we could see were miles and miles of shimmering water, a widestretched horizon and screaming white seagulls against the blue sky.

As we drank in the dark grey waters, 3 wooden paddleboats raced forth, engined by cheerful kid vendors peddling $1 drinks. Here, who rows fastest wins and got our dollars in exchange for chilled cans of Angkor beer. It was heartbreaking to see these youngsters earn a living this way but it was a harsh reality. Later, we spotted a handsome young boy happily floating in his lightweight wooden bucket. What disturbed us was his left arm that was severed above the elbow. He smiled at us and used his other working arm to manouvere the waves. And in Spore, kids want the latest Playstation, computers and handphones - MOE should organise educational tours to Tonle Sap, man.

We made a pitstop at a touristy crocodile/fish farm which was also a floating restaurant-sum-souvenir shop before being whizzed back to town for a quick lunch. I had to try the Amok; a runny mushy mild-tasting fish curry concoction - that is Cambodian's national dish - and couldn't say I was wild about it. Just to be sure, I had it twice at 2 restaurants, and the texture and taste was at least consistently mushy. The other dishes, touted as Khmer cuisine, were not as unique and borrowed heavy influences from its neighbours such as the lime fish soup and grilled eggplant with minced pork - nonetheless they were fresh-tasting, comforting home-cooked fare.

We persuaded Ou Hok to join us at lunch (US$26) and asked him about his life and Cambodia. Before visitng a country for the first time, I felt compelled to read up on its history and culture for at least an admittedly superficial understanding. Apart from the stupendous Angkor Wat temples, the deepest impressions I got from my guidebooks are the atrocities caused by Pol Pot's Khmer Rouge regime in the late 70s that left some 2 million Cambodians dead in its killing fields. The failed political ideals, akin to China's Cultural Revolution, stripped the country bare of its cultural heritage and soul - made worse by American intervention whose politicians thought carpet-bombing the country was probably a good solution to chasing out the communists.

Yet the people seemed to find their way around it all with a gentle pride, bashful smile and that quiet sparkle in their eyes. Ou Hok had the most complex laugh which for the first time I couldn't imitate. It seemed to resonate from the back of his throat, through his nose and build up into a gawkish nasal sound - like a seagull's call (ok sono pazza!). Now in his 50s, he survived the Khmer Rouge regime as a teen and has gone thro' all sorts of hardship as a goldsmith, gold/gem miner, shopkeeper, truck driver, coconut-seller, farmer and now an entrepreneur with a tuk tuk proudly emblazoned with his name "Mr Ou Hok". His wife is equally inspiring, learning Japanese at her age and they are blessed with 4 daughters who are studying in Phnom Penh.

He taught us our first tongue-twisting Khmer words:
- 'Sous su'dite' = hello/ ciao
- 'Ar koon' = thanks/ grazie
- 'Sor pee or'= cheers to good health/ salute
- 'Chi ngan' = delicious/ buono
... all compulsory words for me in any foreign language. Hmm, I think I will stick to my italiano for now!

Dopo pranzo, we got our 3-day pass at US$40 at the checkpoint and headed for our first temple Ta Prohm, one of the die-die must-see attractions after Angkor Wat and Angkor Thom. I had been reading up on the temples and the mixed feelings of excitement and angst had built up to this day. Hmm, where do I even begin to explain the origins of these UNESCO marvels? (Go read up!) I could imagine how the first explorers hacked their way in the impossibly dense tropical jungle, fighting off disease and dangers, to pave the journey to the glorious lost Angkorian kingdom. I also felt sorry and despair for their terrible neglect and plunder too, and could only fanthom their original grandeur centuries ago.

To simplify things, the temples are traced to different religious periods and reigns, in dominant styles like Angkor Wat and Bayon. Ta Prohm was probably best immortalised by Hollywood where Lara Croft aka Angelina Jolie raided the toppled tombs and rumbled ruins here. Extremely photogenic, it was overrun by the jungle and strangled by the powerful grips and roots of the gigantic fig and silk-cotton trees - reminders of how destructive and unforgiving Mother Nature can be. Perhaps she is just reclaiming back what's rightfully hers.

I slipped through low corridor entrances and climbed onto the fallen boulders to get closer to the apsaras; celestrial female beings carved intricately on every column. They were quietly graceful, sensual, mystifying yet none of them was alike. I couldn't believe how intact some of them were - it was as if they were trapped in time... in stone for life. I was memerised and obessed by them that I had to document every apsara in sight; each with a different pose and smile.

A couple of times, we were approached by gabby local kids who came up and asked 'You want see the famous movie?' We gently turned their offers down and handed out sweets that we bought for them instead, much to their delight. I observed the little buggers who slided in and out of sight easily within their playground of rumbles, probably knowing the temple like the back of their hands. I wondered where are their parents? My mamma would have whalloped my arse!

At 5plus as the temperature started to drop and fatigue set in, Ou Hok zipped us to the nearby Prasat Pre Rup temple, one of the best spots to catch the sunset. We passed by Srah Srang - a tranquil and reflective huge basin which served as a royal bath then. Now locals gathered around it for a spot of meditation and cool relief, I guess.

At Pre Rup which was already crowded, we climbed up the steep clayish stony steps carefully to the top of the domes in time to see the red glowing sun slowly dipped beyond the picturesque plains. There's something about sunrise and sunset that is magical. I could remember all my moments in Ibiza and Sicilia. Che bellissima...

Felice anno nuovo!

Hmm, yesterday I got a most bizarre sms from Alessandro' best friend Alberto a Spoleto saying "Sabato prossimo! a casa mia! brindisi di fine anno! dalle 20 alle 8! ti aspetto!" (which meant 'next sat at my place from 8pm to 8am, I wait for you!')

He gotta be kidding right? I suspected he might be drunk when he sent me the invite. My reply: "Ciao alberto, sei pazzo! Non posso andare li perche sono qui a Spore. Credo e' un sbaglio ma grazie. Salute a tutti. Divertivi alla festa! Baci" (which translated to 'hi, you're crazy - I can't go there cos i'm here in spore. I believe it is a mistake but thanks. Hi to all. Enjoy yourselves at the party! Kisses')

And the funny thing was he actually replied "Non e' uno sbaglio! La festa e' per il mio compleanno! mi farebbe immensamente piacere se tu venissi! So che e' quaso impossibile comunque l'invito e' valido! complimenti x il tuo italiano! bacio! spero presto di verderti!" He insisted it was not a mistake and would please him immensely if I went to his birthday party, although he knew it was near impossible. So sweet lah him. I remembered Alberto fondly as he was always jolly in the background, with a wine glass around hanging around his neck or making a wise crack which I didn't quite get. I wanted to ask him if Aless was dead as he was MIA for 6 months. Funny that we both didn't mention him. Boh, non me ne frega niente! (Ok fine, i do care but what can a girl do?)

Anyway I hadn't packed my backpack yet and I'd fly off on the Friday 6am flight. Good thing was everything's planned; A and I will meet up with Giovanni and Moira at Siem Reap which is a cool 14 to 18 deg C. I hope to update my blog at some point in time on the trip but if I don't, avere un fantastico natale e felice anno nuovo! Buon appetito e salute tutti!

Trigger happy me

Yay, my new G7 camera had arrived and it's a beauty! I went trigger happy the past few days and the pictures said everything. Freakin' brilliant. So from now on, you'd be treated to its works starting with this one of me and my lovely muralled bedroom wall. With Natale a week away, I had been eating like a fat bastardo gorging my face on 4 consecutive days!

Thurs 5.30pm
Tasting of 8 dim sum and 5 signature dishes at client's ristorante

Thurs 7.30pm
Poi, Noel's birthday dinner at Indian ristorante Chat Masala where I ate niente lor due to tasting above

Fri 12.30pm
Buonissimo five-course N' birthday company lunch at Jade including chinese buns, pumpkin soup with flower crabmeat, steamed fish with teacup of rice, duck noodles and chilled desserts on misty mountain of ice!

Fri 8pm
Excellent Thai meal at our fav P&P of crispy pork, tom yum, mango salad, fried kailan, minced pork with basil, and green curry with chicken (big ciao to Malcolm from Bristol and salute a Dimitris from Athens who also parla italiano!)

Sat 7.30pm
ALOFQ Xmas dinner party at J&D's place in Woodlands with the whole works; turkey from Paulaner, sausages from Borgo, homemade salads, gratin etc (big hugs to their latest putty cat Frosty! So cute lah)

Sun 12.30pm
F&P's Xmas brunch with more turkey, pork knuckles, F's lasagne, P's butter rice, my grilled eggplant rolls with capsicum and goat's cheese, watermelon-feta and basil-rocket insalata!

At this rate, I'd need a new wardrobe for the new year. *Burp* After the party, Fatty and I lugged the turkey carcass a casa to make a wonderful big pot of turkey porridge perfect on a cold rainy evening. Go on, don't waste the bones leh!

Carla's Xmas Turkey Porridge
Ingredients
1 turkey carcass
1 clove garlic (finely chopped)
1 onion (finely chopped)
1 slice ginger (finely chopped)
1 carrot (roughly sliced)
1 cup rice (washed)
1 bunch coriander (chopped)
1 tsp chilli flakes
2 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp sesame oil
Salt & pepper to taste

Method:
1. Heat olive oil in big pot and saute garlic, onion and ginger till fragrant.
2. Add carrot and turkey, stirring around for 1min before adding rice and water to fill half the pot.
3. Boil for 20mins till porridge is cooked and add salt, pepper, chilli flakes and sesame oil. Serve it hot with coriander. Oh la la.

Natale gia

I was in one of those particularly pathetic sorry states today. Listening to Andrea Bocelli's stirring yet achingly sad songs about amore made me felt worse. I suddenly could emphathise with Cameron Diaz's character in 'The Holiday' - tried as I might, no tears came. Carzo. Sometimes what everyone truly needs is a good cry.

With Xmas just next week, I was immensely relieved that I'd be escaping to Angkor Wat for some peace, mediation and self contemplation. Merda, I haven't finished my Xmas shopping yet! Argh. Ok let's try to squeeze some proses from my pea brain. Darn, I haven't written a single decent poem since 'Paola Alessandro' in Italia last Settembre. Niente had come close to such inspiration. Ah-ha. I found some scribbles in my mobile from last Dicembre - hmm, here goes:


A Casa
A blissful twirl and leap
she wrapped her arms tight
prancing in a precious jewel box
far removed from all to see
At that moment lost in fleeting seconds
she was hynoptised by a quiet rhythm
of the gently lapping sea
of the caressing breeze
The prickly cacti
sparkled like studded gems
In the blinding light
high atop the volcanic ashes
The wet polished pebbles gleamed
like rough diamonds under her feet
As the cold currents retreated
and the sun shone down eternally
she knew she was home
finalmente a casa

~Carl 2005/6~

Weird travels

Just 2 weeks ago, a local free lifestyle magazine quoted me on where’s the weirdest or most unusual place I’ve traveled to and here's my quote below. I used every possible opportunity to plug Italia; forse they should make me an honourable citizen soon!

Where’s the weirdest or most unusual place you’ve traveled to?
I'd have to say the most unusual and out-of-this-world place for me is the cluster of volcanic Aeolian islands off Sicily. This volcanic archipelago, named after Aeolus - son of Zeus, is located just off the northern coast of Sicily in the Tyrrhenian Sea.

Why did you go there?
I was on a 10-week sabbatical in Europe last year and spent 8 weeks travelling all over Italy on my own. Based on the locals' recommendations and by sheer dumb luck, I found my way to the Aeolian islands without any expectations/ research and spent a week in paradiso!

What do people do there?
You can do so many things on the seven islands - Lipari, Salina, Stromboli, Panarea, Vulcano, Filicudi and Alicudi. Each island is quite different in size and landscape, and offers many unique attractions such as hiking up the active Stromboli (or watching its fury lava eruptions safely from a boat at dusk), soaking in the thermal mud bath on Vulcano, visiting the archeological museum and pumice hills of Lipari, sneaking into the casa where 'Il Postino' was shot on Salina and diving into the clear blue waters of Panarea or Filicudi.

How do you get there?
To get to Sicily, I took the train from Reggio di Calabria which backed into the belly of a mega barge (most bizzare - imagine a train on a ship!) and then took the hydrofoil from Milazzo to the Aeolian islands. You can also take a very long boatride from Naples to the islands too.

Why should our readers go there?
For the wonderful people (especially the singing Sicilian bus drivers!) and their generous hospitality, unhurried pace of la dolce vita, stunning nature and spectacular scenery, bellissime sunrise and sunset, most humble to-die-for Sicilian food and wine (I had the best spaghetti con sardes, arancini risotto balls, malvasia sweet wine with a range of dolci). It's simply magic :)