Starting afresh ancora

Christmas came and went away in a blink. It was a low key affair - quiet dinner at J's - compared to how we used to celebrate it in the good ole days. As I was spring-cleaning my wardrobe today, I pulled out our old photo albums and was grinning like a monkey at snapshots of the wild party days in our carefree 20s. The best parties were at Mohamed Sultan; B and I were always up to mischief making others drunk and twirling each other in madness. My favourite scene was that of the pub filled with fake foamy snow bits and we'd bump into the big twinkling xmas tree in our drunken state of dance. It was a bourbon-long-island-tequila-kinda blur which led naughty me to kissing a few guys that night!

Si, blame it on the alcohol. It does foolish things to you, like daring one another to down 11 tequila shots in a row or puke your dinner remains into a party hat at the bar counter. Or having your face in the gutters, waiting for the next wave of nausea. Or sticking your head out of a moving cab in case there's more vomit left while the taxi uncle searched desperately for another plastic bag. Ahh, how I missed those days, but surely not the hangovers. I could safely say I now know my limits. I stopped at kissing strangers too. In fact I haven't kissed anyone in the past 2 years (my cats don't count). I wondered if I'd still know how to pucker my lips.

With the new year looming ahead, it's time again to reflect on my previous resolutions and draw up new ones. Let's see, in 2007 I had set out to:
- To quit smoking (quasi accomplished - I smoked only a pack this year, haha)
- To improve my italiano (checked - ho completato progressivo livello!)
- To hold an exhibition (checked - Gattidelmondo was a success!)
- To be kinder to parents & relatives (checked - domestic relations have improved)
- To travel to new exotic places (si, went to Philippines, Hoi An, Arezzo, Assisi, Cortona, Perugia)
- To get a bike licence (not after what happened to R who's now paralysed)
- To achieve a lean, mean body thro' healthy living (err, it's in the progress)
- To start praying for il mio grande amore (ok I've started praying quite hard)

I guessed the highlights of 2007 were winning the Italian scholarship, the one-month long return trip to Italia and also the sense of accomplishment of organising a fun cat photo exhibition which hopefully will be an annual affair. Capping the year was finally whipping our arses into gear and finalising the launch of our 2nd business DMAF! It's been extra hard on top of our busy agenda but I'm proud to say we did it!

For 2008, my priorities are:
- To find il mio grande amore (si, I'm naive this way but I know The Secret now!)
- To perfect my italiano in italia (Yay, can't wait for my scholarship trip!)
- To hold 2nd Gattidelmondo photo exhibition (in talks with new bigger venue!)
- To achieve sane, healthy living through regular exercise (bought new Nikes! And not to take health for granted esp after Lipoma's surgery on 28 Jan)
- To roll out business expansion plans and launch 2nd venture DMAF (fingers crossed! Plus have to look for new office, rent went up 4times, porca putana)
- To be thankful, positive, have courage and faith - Felice nuovo anno, tutti!

Mangio troppissimo

With Christmas coming up and our 'winter' rainy season creeping in, we all got the munchies and had been stuffing our faces at every excuse. First it was No's big 30th birthday and we celebrated it at Bombay Cafe last Friday. It was this shocking-pink kitschy Indian joint at Tanjong Katong, splashed with posters and videos of our preferito Bollywood idol Shahrukh Khan. After a delightful dinner, we managed to shock N with a special Shahrukh's cake with his message of love in Hindi. Hehe.

The next week we then went to My Humble House where No made special arrangements with the Chef to whip up a brilliant 5-course pranzo. The pumpkin soup alone was to-die-for while desserts were always a fun affair. We were literally on cloud nine as the dry ice bubbled away in our ice-piled bowls of fruits and sweets.

Various ideas were cast and tossed aside for our company Xmas lunch - it was always a huge dilemma to please everyone's tastebuds and expectations. In the end, everyone nodded to The Moomba, one of our favourite restaurants for consistency and comfort. After making heartfelt toasts fuelled by the lovely Champagne Francois H, I slurped down 5 slippery oysters, followed by a fig-rocket-blue cheese insalata then the roasted quail. Mmmm. I could feel Lipoma beaming with delight, she loves good food as much as me.

Scannin' again

The weeks zipped by in a flash and the xmas trees and decor were all up. We put Pecora at the top of our office tree cos she's a star! The rain fell in continous sheets of storm and the temperature dipped. All I want was a hug and a glass of Champagne. Ok make that una bottiglia! Last Saturday Concetta sprang a test on us in classe and I tried my very best despite the lack of colazione e caffe. Porca putana. I was very sure I sucked. This Saturday would be our last class for Advanced Level 4C and we're all very proud of ourselves for making it so far, especially Eka and I who started since Oct 2005! A pat on the back for us ragazze :P complimenti!

Today I finally had the MRI scan after all the hassle of to-ing and fro-ing from the poly clinic and hospital for the subsidised rate. A doc friend had managed to speed things up and I told the surgeon and his two grinning med interns - no conservative route for me - lets move it and get it out asap.

Prior to the scan, I had some apprehension since a) I'm claustrophobic so the bloody tunnel will be scary 2) I never have a surgery before or being under GA so that's a bit bewildering. Well, that's always a first time for everything right! I tried to be a brave cat, as I lay there on the bed before being rolled in while the nurse reassured me a bit too cheerily 'don't worry, jus close your eyes!'

As I felt the bed slide in, I clenched my fists tight and shut my eyes tight as the space closed in like a space pod and there was only stillness. The tunnel was so bloody small that I almost panicked just thinking of risking a peep. Soon the machine came alive, vibrating and thumping switching from a bad repetitive techno beat to an irritating jackhammer. It was manageable, save for the ear plugs.

Then halfway they rolled me to a window in the tunnel - again the nurse said 'close your eyes still ok' - while injecting me with a liquid to make the blood vessels more visible for the scan?!! WTF! I can deal with injections but not enclosed spaces. I mustered all my strength and imagined myself in a space pod floating in universe while the techno-like vibrations closed in around me again. Not fun lor. Anyway the results were ok and I'd proceed with surgery on 28 Jan 08. Wish me luck!

Such a Scan-dal

Last week I waited almost 2 hours to see the surgeon at SGH despite having an appointment. He spent less than 5mins examining Lipoma and advised me to go for a MRI scan to ascertain that it was indeed all fats *fingers crossed* Blurf#ck me didn't know what it is or how much it costs, and nearly fainted when the nurse said it'd be S$960! Porca putana! I'm heading back to square 1 and getting a referral from a poly clinic so I'd get subsidised - half price. Anyway once I get the MRI out of the way, I'd remove Lipoma before I get used to petting her like a parrot on my shoulder every morning.

On giovedi, Q and I went to the launch of 'Italian Genius Now' at Emily Hill, which was part of the Spore Design Festival. It was not as impressive as we imagined but at least we got to practise our italian. I think I better brush up, perche saro' troppo pigra e dimentichero' tutto che ho imparato! Gulp. So today I took some drastic measure: besides dragging myself to class, I also signed up at a language exchange website (got 3 italian men who wanted to be my friend!) and said 'si' to a dinner invitation from a Sicilian chef whom I've met once before. We somehow had a few italian exchanges on FaceBk and decided to meet up and chat in person - at of all places, Iggy's! Ero un po stressata! What should I wear so I could stuff my face without splitting my dress?!

He turned out to be such a gentleman - held out chair, offered Champagne, laughed at my every joke (cos I molto funny mah), paid at least $600 for the dinner (si, era troppo) and offered to send me home in cab. Wah, I hadn't been treated like a lady for so long now. Maybe it's time for me to get back in the dating circuit! Anyway here's another Carla's tried and tested recipe - enjoy!

Creepy Crepes all Nutella e Banana

Ingredients:
3/4 cup flour
Pinch of salt
2 eggs
3/4 milk
1/4 water
Nutella
Banana

Method:
1. Mix flour and salt together and create a well in the middle.
2. Mix eggs, milk and water and pour this mixture into the middle of flour-salt.
3. Be sure to blend them gently and sift the mix carefully so there's no lipoma lump.
4. Heat up a non-stick pan and pour half a laddle of the batter, quickly spreading it out thinly to cover all of the pan's surface. Flip it over to brown both sides. Make funny creepy faces once you have mastered it!
5. Serve up crepes with lots of nutella and sliced banana. Yum!

Lump of contentment

I try not to bore people with nonsensical stuff if I have nothing to write about. Last week was madness; work, shoot, meetings after meetings. Weeks in November flew by in a huff. The Harpers shoot was fun, the hair and make-up artist did a great job and made us look like ourselves but twice better. We posed like Gisele and I tried to resemble a smokin' hot italian heiress with my satin collar up but that just sent the 2 gay stylist and art director in a fit of giggles. Bo, we'd see the final result soon enough.

Just last weekend I had my usual massage and the kindly masseuse said nonchalantly to me 'Miss, you got a lump here', grabbing a knot of fats on my left shoulder - somewhat like a gnocchi of grasso. It didn't hurt which was a good sign but it affected me throughout the week so I asked my doc friend E for advice. The arse said it could be a 3rd boob. But in all seriousness, it could be a lipoma. I sought a 2nd opinion with a GP who confirmed it. So now it's me and my Lipoma (which sounds so italian). I always thought I had a chip on my shoulder, now I just had a lump. Doc referred me to a surgeon and we'd decide if we should remove it.

Funny this lump surfaced when I was just thinking that a lot of us took our health for granted. Oprah W said without health, we can't conquer the world. Happiness is health. Without it, we can't enjoy our family, friends, lovers, wealth and be our own heroes. So as I go about reflecting on my new year resolutions, I'd put health upfront. Every year eversince I recognised the power and potential of goals, I have a list of realistic short-term achievables and tick each off as the year drools on. I'm kinda kiasu this way; life is short and time is running out. We think we have all the time in the world but it's not true. Time slips you by.

Youth is a leaf in the wind
It prances and twirls blindly.

I'm almost finishing 'Una Camera Con Una Vista' (A Room With A View) by E M Foster. I didnt know he was gay! Anyway it was kinda 'Sense & Sensibility' (by Jane Austen) where the damsel found herself and ended up with her real love in a straits-laced society then. But 'A Room With A View' was partly set in Florence (bonus point!) and I felt like her in the Spoleto's convento when all I wanted was 'una camera con una vista'. I didn't get it in the end. I thought it'd make me happy like it did the first time but I was too narrow minded. I was better off with a view of the garden, a window to prettier things. Here are some excerpts I like from the book:

"How can he be unhappy when he is strong and alive? What more is one to give him?"

"Passion should believe itself irresistible. It should forget civility and consideration and all the other curses of a refined nature. Above all, it should never ask for leave where there is a right of way."

"It is impossible to foretell the future with any degree of accuracy, that it is impossible to rehearse life."

"Life is easy to chronicle but bewildering to practice."

Nostalgia per me

As one gets older, one becomes more nostalgic. The sentimental fool in me sobbed when I asked the garanguni (is it spelt right?) man to take my baby-sized decade-old 14inch monitor away, to be replaced by a brand-new flat screen on my office desk. If I could, I would use it till I grow blind from squinting. But as it was, I could feel my eyesight failing.

Some good news this week! LTA replied to my letter and came up with a standard PR reply that I was anticipating. But it was a reply nonetheless saying they're doing their best to avoid the trees in the line of fire. I also saw the workers transplanting some younger trees so that's pretty cheery.

What also made me chirpier was that Harpers Bazaar wanted to feature me and my partners in the Jan 2008 issue, woooo-peeee! They'd be doing our hair and make-up for a photoshoot this Wednesday, so we were kinda stressed out over our outfits! Not exactly high-fashion slaves, we hoped our humble wardrobe would pull it off!

Green peace of mind

I was quite upset since last week when the beautiful shady trees and lush bushes around my office area were uprooted to make way for supposedly new MRT works. My partners and I were tempted to chain ourselves to the trees to protest against this horrible destruction. If I had my way, I'd become a full-time activist or politician to have my voice heard. Egged on by another similiar-thinking fellow whose letter got published in Today newspaper, I wrote in to bitch about it and whoopee, mine appeared on the following day! This was not the first time I had written to the forum - in fact the last time, NEA responded to my letter in ST when I championed the merits of using less plastic bags and going green in Spore 2 years ago.

My friends said why I bothered at all when the relevant authorities had already made up their minds. But I totally disagreed and felt that we can all make an impact with action, instead of keeping silent. Caring about something and doing something about it are two totally different things. Si, we might not be able to reverse the situation but at least we could put pressure on them regarding future works in progress and inspire others that they are not alone in this. Yesterday during italian class, my English classmate K told me she read my letter and cheered me for my effort. I walked a little more sprightly after that.

Also on Friday evening, I found myself at a wine dinner seated with a local journalist, the Australian vineyard's GM and a Canadian brewmaster (who thought I was 20 yrs old) among other guests. They were short of patting me on the shoulder when I told them about the letter as we were discussing about organic wines. The dinner lasted more than 4 hours as we quaffed down 6 courses and 8 wines. Our VIP table had 2 extra mystery wines where we did a blind tasting and had to guess their varietal and vintage. I was honestly a little shacked and rusty but at least I got the styles right.

Me: Yes, definitely an Old World. Bordeaux maybe? (Correct!)
Me: Hmm, its quite young. 2002 maybe? (Wrong - 1998)

Sunday was pasta day, all the more cos I was suffering from extreme PMS and a pimple popped up overnight on my chin. Che cazzo. Here's my recipe of the month to chase away the blues:

Organic spaghetti with prawns, arugula and cherry tomatoes

Ingredients
Organic spaghetti (enough for 1)
2tbsp olive oil
2 garlic cloves (chopped)
1/2 cup cherry tomatoes (halved)
1 small whole chilli
5 whole prawns
5 basil leaves (chopped)
A handful of arugula leaves
Salt & pepper to taste

Method:
1. Boil pasta for 6mins in salted water.
2. Fry garlic in oil till fragrant, then add cherry tomatoes and chilli and fry for 1min.
3. Add prawns, basil, salt and pepper. Fry for 3-4 mins till cooked (remove chilli).
4. Add spaghetti and mix well. Remove from heat and toss in arugula. Serve! :)

Buon Diwali

Haaappy Diwaaali! Ah, such bliss to wake up late on this public holiday. Last night, our celebrations started with some fab naan, spiced okra, cauliflower and tandoor chicken at the Indian ristorante at the Singapore Recreational Club. Interestingly I didn't know non-members could dine there anytime. And I didn't know that the club was established in 1883 by the Eurasian community as a hangout for non-whites in Spore, as opposed to the Singapore Cricket Club that was opened for the whites. Ok ok I didn't know a lot of things.

I was informed by my 2 Indian amici - Prab and Ketan - that Diwali / Divali / Deepavali is NOT their new year celebration; in fact it's celebrated by Hindus, Jains and Sikhs across the globe as the "Festival of Light," where the lights signify the uplighting of darkness and victory of good over evil. Ah so. Light my fire baby. After dinner, we chilled out at the members-only terrace bar upstairs at the SRC and admired the city's skyline with its tiny window boxes of lit offices. The perspective from this side of the Padang was quite stunning. The streets were abandoned and the breeze lifted the heat. I told N it felt like Berlin - although strangely I had never been to Berlin. The drinks were also ridiculously cheap here - my apricot brandy cost S$3! I told them the house cocktails in comparison were quite a scandal at S$5.

I think I'd bring my Romanian friend Cristian for a walk around the Spore River and Padang when he visits in early December. And we'll go to the seediest quarters of Spore instead of the poshy-woshy places. Heheh. Shock his senses and show him the underbelly of the lione citta. Today my bro is leaving for Cambodia and I passed him the contact of my tuk tuk friend Ou Hok and scribbled tips on Siem Reap (click on December 06). My bro actually asked me if they have coffee or tea in Cambodia?! Dude. Angkor Wat is surely one of the most hauntingly beautiful yet saddest places in the world.

I met some mates for a round of martinis at Morton's and wolfed down 4 (or was it 5) steak finger sandwiches. R finally confessed that he and his wife have split up and I wanted to hug him and tell him he'll be fine. He has gone by the 'denial' stage and seems strangely at peace, so much so he and the wife are house mates now. I told him it's all for the better. Why be with someone who doesn't love you wholeheartedly? We all deserve someone who loves us for who we are. He replied, "We do?" Si si, certamente.

Down and about

It is low times like this that I want to punch the wall or bite my lips to stifle a silent scream. Implodero'. It's not so much feeling lonely or bored. I've no major problems being single nor do I lack any things to do. A volte it's the emotional isolation that can kill. I realised in Perugia when I was on my own - that no matter how interessante una persona, lui/lei is only as dull as the brick wall staring back.

I was lamenting to F that I couldn't seem to find a kaki to hang out for a happy hour birra and some decent conversation these days. Everyone seemed so caught up with their own lives. Maybe now's the time for me to get back on the dating circuit - boh - extra motivation on top of my agenda to have babies before 35.

La vita e' certamente molto fragile. This week I received two tragic news - a former colleague J is at an advanced stage of lung cancer and some people are planning to visit him, probably one last time. He's only in his 40s and is happily married with kids. And my friend's cat Travis killed himself (I've yet to find out the details). I went home and hugged Jarvis et al every morning and night.

Postcards from Italia

On the days when I get stressed like this freakin' porca settimana, I'd turn to my belle snapshots of Italia and sigh out loud. Each shot allowed me to relive that very momento. The colour of the cielo. How bright the luce. Who was with me. Who wasn't there. What I was thinking. Why I laughed. I had been so preoccupata at work that I lost any motivation to study italiano and felt more stressed by fearing that I'd wake up one day and forget all of it. Arrgh. Sara possibile??! Che incubo.


My bedside bible currently is the luminous green Collins dictionario, which is a window to my mondo of nuove parole. I feel like a nerd sometimes, running my highlighter over the words that jump out at me. With nothing much on my afterwork social schedule, I finished 'Bella Tuscany' and would move on to 'Cercasi Niki Disperatamente' di Federico Moccia. Si, it's in bloody italiano (grazie Elena! :) I kept reading aloud the back page, opening paragraph and was stuck at pagina 2. Adesso devo continuare - forza! Dante's 'Divine Comedy' also awaits quietly atop other reading materials. At this rate, I just might finish it by next summer before I leave for Italia!

Gatti di Italia

I was going matta ieri, stressata di lavoro. Too many projects, too little time. Today I spent half a day styling 3 pictures of these 3 expensive French Champagnes and luckily they turned out bellissime! The ever talented photographer Ed and I had worked for years and we knew each other's style. Finalmente I also found time to downloaded all my foto di Italia and I had so many favourite ones to share. For now, I have put up these 4 cat shots taken at Procida. They will defnitely make it to the 'Gatti del Mondo' exhibition next year!

Una ragazza sempre

Eversince I got back, I had been listening to Irene Grandi's greatest hits everyday - in the morning on the way to lavoro and on the way back on the crowded train. I could sing some of the songs already; my current preferita being 'La Tua Ragazza Sempre'. I laughed to myself whenever she sang 'nessuna è più bella di meeee' with such angst, conceit and vindication. Here are some of the lyrics:

tu credi ma non lo sai
che a me non me ne frega niente
tu credi che oramai
io sia la tua ragazza sempre
lasciami andare
segui il tuo cuore e arrivando alle stelle
prova a prendere quelle
nessuna è più bella di me
e non dirmi ti amo anche tu
dammi soltanto il tuo cuore
e niente di più

P.S: I've been addicted to Facebook lately too. Strangely I got about 7 friend requests from strangers (6 men and 1 woman) due to a rather unreal attractive foto di me. My friends all teased me about the fake cleavage, aiya sorry lah.

Cuoca in azione

Just this week we signed on a new italian cliente, amazing considering I said to him 'coglione?' (testicle) when I meant to say 'coniglio' (rabbit) as he told me one of his favourite food is rabbit. What a boo-boo. Imagine if I tell people 'Oh si, ho mangiato coglione, molto buono.' (Yes, I ate testicle, very good) I brought this up to Luigi who incidentally told me 'Sei un coniglio' means you are a coward (we say you're chicken in inglese). 'Sei un coglione' means you have no brains - strangely I always thought it means you have no balls or you're a weakling.

He taught me another saying to imply you're stupido, albeit in a friendly way - 'Hai la testa per dividere le orecchie' (you have the head to divide the ears). I wouldn't think it'd be an insult if someone told me that but the meaning sank in after 5 italiani minuti :)

Last night the cuoca in me prepared an italian feast for Giovanni's housewarming dinner party in his spanking new cucina (my dream kitchen). We shopped for groceries to feed an army and picked up the marinated deboned leg of lamb before lugging them back and started cooking at 5.30pm. I was behind time and calmed down with a scigaretta and milo. Giovanni was my sous chef as we carried out the tedious prep work.

We cleaned the chunky aussie asparagus, colourful peppers, fat eggplant and zucchini which went under the grill soaking up all the lovely extra virgin olive oil after which I could tend to the warm squid salad, caprese and vongole, roping in more help as guests arrived at 7pm. The lamb finally went in at 7.50pm as we started on the antipasti. We practically drank the whole pot of vongole - fresh clams in white wine, flavoured with garlic, expensive roman tomatoes, basilico, coriander, lemon juice, salt and pepper. An hour later when we were done with the Pimms and appetisers, the lamb came out sizzling on a bed of patate, zucca, rosemary, whole red onions and garlic cloves. They thought it was too bloody when I insisted it was perfetto cosi - medium rare pink. G carved the meat while I added red wine to the meat jus to make a superb gravy. The ragazze were quite giggly brillissime when I showed them how to make the banana-cioccolato bombas wrapped in foil. A great night in!

Cavolo gatto

It had become a routine. And I got the shorter end of the stick. At precisely 8am, Jarvis would be scratching at my door - somewhat quite insistently asking me to wakey wakey! I swear he can read my weary mind, that little rat, as I start to gain consciousness and stop snoring when the full blast of the sunrays hit my arse. Most of the time I'd let him in so he can kiss my face and purrrr in my ears. Or sometimes he chooses to position his big furry butt next to my pillow and I continue to nooze till the alarm repeats itself.

Mercoledi was Melina's birthday and my dad's as well - what a coincidence! She called me from Pozzuoli and actually memorised my home tel no.! I swear that woman has the memory of an elephant. I surprised myself by rattling on in Italian with her. It came so naturally. These days, I found that I'm no longer haunted by italian words swimming in my head when I go to bed prior to reading/listening/writing in italian. It's sort of internalised and I had started to think rather quickly in it. Hurray! This was the natural 'progression' that I was waiting for. No need for CEL2 esame. I know where I stand. Anyway I couldn't be arsed.

Today I decided that I won't be travelling anywhere this Dicembre during my office's annual Xmas-NYE week-long break perche:
1) I dont wanna spend more $ so I can save more for next yr in Italia
2) I cant find any decent company
3) I have enough of myself to travel alone so soon
4) I'd start hearing voices in my head if I do so, or worse, doing stupid tricks like try to touch a faraway tower in the distance!

I can also finally get cracking on the pile of books including the very cheem Dante's 'Divine Comedia' - it excites and frightens me at the same time. Currently I'm reading 'Bella Tuscany' (BT), a follow-up to 'Under The Tuscan Sun' (UTTS) by Frances Mayes (who is coming to town by the way for the Sun Festival and her travel writing workshop costs an arm and leg). I re-read UTTS in August and reading BT now made me hate her even more. Una bella casa in Toscana?! Buying fiori to plant in her perfetto giardino!? Shopping for more shoes at Cortona?! She made it seem so easy, these rich americani. Puuiii.

Coincidentally she mentioned the works of Piero della Francesca who was an acclaimed Italian artist of the Early Renaissance. I saw some of his famous frescoes and paintings at Arezzo and Firenze, and had been curiosa to find out more about him. Strangely when I googled him, I discovered that tomorrow would be his death anniversary, October 12 in 1492! Eeeeeriiie lor. Anyway salute, Piero!

La prima settimana

Luigi left Pozzuoli on mercoledi and he texted me to say his mom Melina made him cry in the treno to roma. Sigh. Didn't I tell you? She has that effect on people, including me. Maybe it's her sweet smile, kind eyes and warm hug. It must be hard for him to leave his hometown and tight circle as much as he hates to admit it. Mercoledi was also his sorella, Linda's birthday (buon compleaannnooo cara!), followed by his birthday on venerdi (tanti auguri a te!), Anna's, Melina's and Gino's - all in the same mese.

Allora, the week had started out bene for me despite a heavy head full of cotton - a result of jetlag. On lunedi mattina, I brought i dolci - 2 trays of sfogliatelle and aragoste nutella - and Kimbo caffe to the office for the girls and our new intern. Much to my dismay, I also discovered that one of the 3 Nutella jars was broken. Bwaaaaaahh!!! Tristissimaaa.

But what was more triste was to learn that one of our friends R was involved in a serious bike accident and the doc said he'd be paralysed for life. And he's only 31. I visited him and told myself not to cry as he laid sleeping in ICU, his limp body heaving from the respiratory assistance. Things like these made you realise how fragile and precious life is.

On sabato, I managed to drag my arse to the last classe of our Advance 4B and Anna Maria said she enjoyed reading my blog and asked for permission to share it with the others at the italian institute. I'd love to share mie avventure but scusami if there's troppo parolaccia (swear words)! Anyway this would be our last classe with her - che peccato. We had all thoroughly enjoyed her patient teaching and tiramisu (which I missed out!). Grazie carissima.

After classe, F and I went to slice up the block of Parma ham for cena at her place. We paired the deliciously moist and fatty slices with sweet organic Thai melone, rucola, grissini and a bottiglia di Lambrusco. The primo piatto di organic fettucine with bottarga e parmigiano didn't turn out as well (cos the pasta's quality was uneven), followed by grilled pork chops with sauteed asparagus. The guys couldn't stomach any more crepes (weak!) so I just piled some banana and crushed grissini over a bed of nutella. Hmmm.

The next day, F's mother-in-law invited me to their casa for her husband's 67th birthday because they knew how golosa I was and how much I loved her briyani. I stuffed my face with 3 servings of glorious mutton briyani with more curried chicken and pineapple salad, then a slice of torta cioccolata, a slice of jelly and glass of vin santo. Burp. It rained all day which made it even more conducive for me to sleep like a baby on the hour-long bus ride home. I dreamt about Italia but I couldn't remember dove.

Il giorno dopo

I cried my eyes out last night. It was all L's mamma, Melina's fault. We missed each other and she was telling me what a brava ragazza I was and that I'm welcome at Pozzuoli anytime. That opened the flood gates and I just couldn't stop once the tears flowed. Anyway it was about time; I had been keeping it in since 24 hours ago. It was a really good cry, the kind of sobbing that used up a pack of tissue.

I managed to sleep at 4am after putting on some aromatherapy and chatting with L who was surprisingly not painting the town red after my departure. We missed each other's company - after all we had spent the last 10 days together day in day out. Now it was back to MSN which was not the real thing. My eyes were puffy even this morning but I managed 7 hrs of sleep, getting up a few times to let the cats in and out. Che cazzo meows.

I drove my mom and cousin's boy Javier to have lunch with my dear nonna, aunt, uncle, sis and her fidanzato Alv, and stuffed my face with cinese food. My aunt asked if I wanted pasta and Nonna was so gleeful, asking me if I had 'fun' in italia. The men were jealous when I told them about the football game at Napoli and we were already planning to go to a match next year. We didn't have room for the dolci but I gave them some sfogliatelle and aragoste to try at home.

It was amazing how much a baby could grow in a month. Javier's brother Kieran - now 4 months - was a bundle of joy and giggling so much at the slightest stroke of his chin and ruddy cheeks. I could kiss him all day.

A casa finalmente

I survived the flight. After a grueeellllsome 14hrs of flying and waiting. Not fun lor. At the crowded Roma airport, I spent my last euros on a can of my fav San Benedetto the' pesca, an Irene Grandi Greatest Hits CD and a bottiglia of Lambrusco, dreading the flight to Bangkok. It was weird for me when they served dinner at 4pm (italian.time) and breakfast at 11pm (i.t).

Around me were italians (Luigi, I heard a guy using conguintivo! He said 'penso che fosse..') including Andrea and his girlfriend Vanessa who were impressed that I spoke their language and that I looked much younger than 32. He lives at Como and works at Meda and the smart alec in me said 'Ah, ci sono molte fabbriche di mobili' (thanks to Elena who told me that). He then asked me if I knew a Vietnamese lady there who was married to a local. I was thinking 'Che scemo! You think every asian knows one another meh?'

When we finally got to Bkk at 1am (thai 6am), the plane took off at 3am (thai 8am) and my eyelids couldn't open at all. The air stewardess poked me and asked in Thai if I wanted breakfast. Volevo dire 'Che cazzo vuoi? Non puoi vedere che sto dormendo?!' accompanied by a two-finger friendly sign but instead I just waved a finger to indicate no. At the airport, no one came to pick me up - niscuin m'addor - due to a miscommunication between my fratello and Fiona. And I wanted to kill the taxi driver who didn't help me with my bags.

I hate saying goodbye. And si, I cried on the train as it left Napoli after L bid me farewell at the platform. The sleepy black guy and fredda Italian donna opposite me pretended not to notice as I put on my shades and tears came down my cheeks. Pazza. I was already holding back my tears in the morning after hugging Teresa, Linda and Adele who said farewells are the hardest and taught me another modo di dire - 'partire e' un po morire' (To leave is to die a little). Indeed. I believe we live and die a little every moment. In this instance, leaving Pozzuoli was akin to dying a lot.

While I said arrivederci to Nonna and zia Silvana, Melina helped me to buy some last minute foodstuff like Nutella, Kimbo caffe, sfogliatelle from their local bakery and then gave me a big hearty motherly embrace at the stazione. I could still remember her smooth cool skin, clear blue eyes and kind smile. The night before, L's dad Rafaelle also hugged me goodbye cos he had to leave for the Berlin Marathon early in the morning. He asked me for my blog so he could see the photos (shit, I should erase all the parolaccia!).

Linda and Massimo had arranged a sort-of farewell dinner at their quaint casa that came with a vast terrace and stupenda vista. I joked that I'd like to stay alla sopra l'anno prossimo and they said I was more than welcome. We had so much food again - proscuitto, rucola, cheese and a spinach crusty loaf, washed down with his homemade vino bianco (un po fumato). By the time we had the rabbit stew of coniglio con piselli e patate, I counted almeno 4 bottiglie di vino. Massimo joked that if he and Linda were to split up, he'd have to pay 'un mille un mese' (1,000 /month) to feed his 2 golosi figli Felice and Valerio, both busy stuffing their faces.

Halfway through cena, it began to pour cats and dogs, and I said 'il cielo piange perche partiro domani' ( heaven is crying because I will leave tomorrow). Suzy called to say she couldn't make it and I told her I want to be at their wedding in 2 years to which Gino made a face. We brought out the tray of dolci that L had bought today from a sfogliatelle calde specialty shop at Piazza Garibaldi and everyone snatched their favourite piece. I had earlier wolfed down an aragoste alla nutella at the shop, much to L's amusement. It was so good, easily the best I had.

We had gone to the Museo Archeo Nazionale this morning too (9E) which had a good collection of statues, jewellery, household stuff and whole frescoes culled from buried Roman towns. In between sips of San Benedetto's the' pesca (the best!) and un ultima lezione cinese per lui (colori oggi), we reflected on the trip, his friends, aspirations and famiglia. He accused me of making them all upset now cos I'd be leaving (si, mia colpa). I had grown to love being part of his warm, generous nest who never for a single moment made me feel unwelcome. They were all loving, patient and full of humour. And he said 'Hai cambiato molte cose' and made his famiglia realised that we asians are not that different from them. We all want the same things in life.

It was still my night at 11.48pm when we dropped off Gino and I decided that we should drive around one last time in the comforting darkness, lost in our own thoughts. I hope he'd remember the colors that I've taught him.

La partita

Mercoledi was L's day (I take even days and we split Domenica) but we went along with my wishes to see the open-air Mercato del Pesce at Pozzuoli which supplies fishes to all of Napoli. I asked for permisson first before shooting all the gorgeous fresh catch for my dad who's a fervent fisherman. There were all types and sizes of fishes, including a big-arse swordfish on show to ice-cold buckets of tiny silver alici, ugly monkfish, pretty clams and shiny seppia. I especially liked the polpo (octopus), dead and alive with their tentacles, deliciously popolare here.

L told me the mercato used to be really filthy near the harbour and it was clammed down for a while. Incidentally his dad Rafaelle (aka 'a iat' the cat perche he's so fit) used to be a vigilia (inspector) and made some enemies in the days when he used to give out multe (fines). He eventually changed his job which was better for his safety but I could imagine no-nonsense Raffaele the cat rounding up the big fishes. While I was clicking away, the fishermen asked L if I was really una turistica o forse una vigilia. Funnily there was one time when a bunch of Chinese vigilie posing as tourists came and took some foto on an undercover job. We assured them that I was really an ignorante turistica.

We then finally found time to visit the Anfiteatro and found out that we were both wrong; its arena was the 3rd largest in Italy after the one in Roma and Capua. Inside it was more intact than I expected and L knew his way around it (this was his after school hangout), sneaking us into the cordoned-off upper deck which led to the open arena. These days they held concerts here to satisfy screaming fans, rather than feed slaves to hungry beasts.

Lunch was waiting for us by the time we got back at 3pm - Mel had a pleased smirk on her ruddy face because she has prepared something speciale: a heap of tortellini in a cream sauce followed by a platter of mozzarella, fiori di latte (cow's milk) and ricotta fresca served with a plate of sauteed melazane in pomodori, olives and basilico. It was all very good but I was going to explode like a ball of mozzarella thrown against the wall! She asked me if I'd like to call home again cos she gets such a kick from me speaking in cinese and hokkien.

Today was also the big game day where Napoli and Livorno would be fighting it out at the Stadio San Paolo (3rd largest in Italia). I said jokingly 'Spero che Livorno vince' (I hope that Livorno wins) and nobody laughed. Everyone took their football quite seriously here. In the evening, 6 of us (L, me, Linda, Valerio, Gino & Susy) went to meet their other friends Fabio, Luigi and Gennaro at 7pm to secure parking space and seats. Festivity was already brewing in the form of polizia, food vendors and game souvenir sellers (I bought a blue-red-white Napoli scarf for 7E). Gino was pissed at the parking touts because they were illegally demanding 3E from car owners but that's how it works here - and if you didn't pay, they could damage your car easily.

Melina had packed a simple but satisfying dinner of torta di pasta (spaghetti binded with egg to form a fritata) and we munched on our each fetta amidst the fast-growing crowd which swelled to around 45,000. On our wing alone, there were 15,000 bobbing heads. I looked left and right to a sea of mostly male fans, smoking and drinking, gearing up for a homeground win (Gino's betting on Napoli to win 1-0).

This was my first match in Italia so it was molto interessante, especially when L sipped on a tiny canister of Borghetti, a liquor-laced caffe pick-me-up which tasted like a strong cough syrup. I asked him where the toilet was in case I needed to go after my birra Moretti. He said I might get pinched or raped in the toilet cabin so I sipped the beer slowly and prayed that my bladder held up.

The buzz was electrifying and it got more intense as the players came out onto the field at 8.30pm. The crowds hissed and booed at the visiting team and cheered when their local heroes waved back. The hardcore fan clubs came prepared with balloons, sparklers, flags, banners and unison chants. L taught me how to sing 'Ti faccio un culo cosi' which was not sang but there were easily a lot more songs that the fans obviously knew by heart. Gino joked that I better held onto something later in case Napoli scores later and I might be flung down to the stands below. Ho molto paura.

Everytime a goal seemed eminent, L's arm would creep around my shoulder and squeeze my arms in excitement but nothing came close to a goal in the first half. The 15min pausa came and went and everyone was on their feet standing on the filthy seats again chanting their hearts out. When the attack came on, everyone had their arms straight up in the air, as if they were the goalkeeper blocking the ball! I could hear all the bruttissima parolaccia as well as the desperate 'la, laaa!!!' (over there, there!!) and 'forza ragazzi!' (forward guys!) getting louder as the 2nd half drew on.

We were all desperate for one goal, just one for me and the whole of Napoli. I saw a young boy about 10 or 11 who was sobbing openly out of frustration and to me, it was a moving gesture of his support and passione. I couldn't imagine that happening in Spore. Finalmente the ball somehow scrambled into the back of the net without much dramatics, scored by Sosa in the dying 10 minutes of the game. L grabbed me while Gino threw himself at me. Everything was a blur, everyone was jumping with ecstasy. The rain came down but couldn't dampen our spirits. It was una perfetta partita for this Cinese visitor and e' stata una bellissima pazzia.

Piove va via

The countdown had began. Three more days and Luigi would be free. Truly libero as he claimed. Boo. Sempre colpa sua. Last week I was looking forward to go home but now I was starting to feel depressed with every hour closer to my departure. I came, I saw again and I had mixed feelings about the country. Some more positive and others less. But I had developed a more sober affection for it, compared to my previous infatuation. Let's hope our love affair'd last.

The weather was turning cool - the day after the wedding it rained all day and the temperature dipped to 18 degrees. Everyday we'd ask each other 'Che facciamo oggi?' and one of us would say 'Come vuoi.' Anyway he was happy to go with my plans even if it was his day cos he couldn't be arsed to go out if I wasn't around. We did niente and drove around to the Phlegraean lakes (where Dante described the once suffocating Lake Averno as the gateway to hell) and toured the Vomero area to see the elegant shops. The vista of Napoli and Mt Vesuvius was amazing at the top; a soft blanket of mist hung above the citta and muffled the insistent sounds of cars horning.

Bravo L taught me more parolaccia as we drove around and around amidst the brutto traffico; 'Che cazzo bussi?! Ti faccio un culo cosi (grande)!' (What the f%ck you horning? I make your arse so big! - which must be accompanied by a hand gesture to indicate a big arse) Hahaha. I loved it and said it everytime a car behind us horned. He groaned 'Oh no, ho creato un mostro.' (I've created a monster). Alternatively you could say 'Ti faccio una faccia cosi grande!' (Again use two hands to indicate a big face). Don't forget that Italians speak as much with their hands.

On the other hand, L was also molto bravo at learning cinese and had memorised how to say 'Xie jie, ni hao? Wo de ming zi shi Luigi. Ni de ming zi shi se me? Ni taiiiii mei li! Wo yao chi ni!' (Miss, how are you? My name is L. Your name is? You're tooooo beautiful. I want to eat you!) Don't worry, I had also taught him useful info e.g numbers and colours in cinese which he has internalised. Funnily I think I'd miss our language exchange programmes and conversations in his car as we drove aimlessly around Pozzuoli with the views of the Napoli's bay all round.

That night we got back in time for dinner of gnocchi al pesto, with a side of big green olives (my fav), then proscuitto and insalata. Even though I thought I could eat no more after the wedding, I wiped out a whole plate of lasagne e insalata for lunch earlier while everyone else surrendered. I never really saw Melina or Linda eat. M said she had inhaled everything already by the time she had finished cooking while Linda was probably conscious about her svelte figure, having lost some weight during the past few months. E' meglio cosi, so I could eat more hahaha. I think I'm the smallest person with the biggest appetito there and would eat the house dry if I had stayed longer. The aunts promptly named me 'la buona forchetta' - literally a good fork, which probably does its job well!

Mangia! Parte 2 - Il Matrimonio

Finalmente lunedi è arrivato e tutti sono stati eccitati! I got a wake-up call from the aunts at 7.30am, penso che siano svegliate dalle 6, pruning for the wedding. The chubby gayish but married-with-kids hairdresser Francesco in an undersized shirt was there already coiffing Teresa's curls while Adele's hair was done. I tried to wake up with a un po troppo dolce caffe latte made by Adele who insisted on ironing my dress again. They were a bundle of nerves and I tried to calm them down when Teresa found out that she couldn't zip up her dress. Adele tried to sew the zip but Teresa was moving too much and the usually calm Adele was screaming at her.

I stepped in and offered my seamstress service again which saved the day (just last week I had to sew Ferne's backpack cos it was falling apart from its weight!). Adele pronounced me a life saviour. The make-up artist was late but eventually showed up close to 10am. I was ready in 30mins while they took 4 hours. Posso immaginare come importante il matrimonio, since their 22 year-old niece Anna was getting married and they were indeed a very close-knitted famiglia. L struggled with cousin Linda's car but we made it to the bride's place in time to see her and her papa step into the mercs along with their best man and woman Massimo and Linda (married with 3 beautiful kids).

Another emergenza cropped up again when their 12-year old son Valerio got into our car with his sorella Michela and split his pants. He sobbed, troppo upset that his new suit was ruined. L drove him to his casa to change into jeans while I got off with Michela and the bride's mamma Luisa at the chiesa where the groom Emmanuele's relatives were waiting for the sposa. It was a simple ceremonia in the lovely local San Gennaro church. I tried to concentrate on the Father's blessings but was distracted by L's sister Linda's sobbing. Zia Teresa was also tearing but I found out later she was allergic to the mascara and cried all her make-up away.

We then hurried outside, each with a fistful of riso, ready to throw the rice at the just-married couple who came out to release two baskets of snow white doves. Fortunatamente il tempo è stato bellissimo. L was hoping it'd rain so it'd be cooler for the ragazzi in their suits. Che stronzo. My stomach was grumbling but I didn't want to spoil it with too much colazione because we were going to eat the house down at La Fontanina. We got lost for a good half 45mins - sempre colpa sua - and whizzed past a few bored-looking hookers on the roadside before we turned up at the clubhouse of sorts 30mins away from Pozzuoli where three weddings were going on the same day.

Everyone was hungry but the guests had to take photos with the wedding couple first in the giardino before being seated. I got more stares from relatives who probably never seen a Chinese person ever, much less at a Napolitano matrimonio. The pranzo soon got underway with 4 courses of antipasti - a mixed bread plate, proscuitto con melone, misti frutti di mare, more pesce, prawns and stewed octopus - fuelled by glasses of spumante and vino bianco of course. You'd think us Chinese eat fast? Well these italians put us to shame.

I was trying to stick to my strategy of eating piano piano in between passeggiate and sigarette. Burp. I needed a strategy (starting with a loose black dress) to survive the whole day of feasting - apparently the 'pranzo' would stretch all the way to 'cena' fino alle 10! A duo of musicians kickstarted the party with some ballads and soon everyone was slowdancing on the dancefloor. Molto bene. Dancing would be another strategy to burn the calories as Gino and I twirled each other around.

Soon more food in the form of 2 kinds of pasta arrived and we started to feel the weight of the food under our vestiti. The first was linguine with mixed seafood (si, they love their frutti di mare qui!) and the seconda pasta was twirls with more seafood in a fragrant creamy porcini sauce. The couple fed each other with this pasta, a sort of good luck ritual. I loved my pasta so I cleaned both plates easily, washed down with a glass of excellent red vino that L had stolen from the VIP table.

The band picked up the tempo and soon the guests were doing the mambo, twist and formed a long train around the restaurant, including the 80 yr-old grandaunt who confessed she loved to dance. Amazingly they also played 'Ti Scattero' Una Foto' by Tiziano F and I sang my heart out. L told me he couldn't understand why everyone loved me so much and had invited him to their houses for dinner and told him to bring me along. Hahaha. Perche sono brillante e molto modesta anche! Maybe they just want to stare at this asian piccolina polishing her food like a little hamster.

We picked at more seafood and a steak in between more talks, smokes and walks. Just as I thought I'd explode, the tennis-ball size of mozzarella arrived with a slice of proscuitto, olives and rucola. It was creamy, moist, soft, bouncy, delicate, fresh, pure orgasm - senza parole (speechless). It seemed everyone agreed and finished it within seconds even though they were moaning earlier. I couldn't understand why they reserved the best course for the last, before i dolci! Luckily I had allocated some space in my fourth stomach! :P

The fuochi articiali (fireworks) lit the night as we proceeded to the piscina (pool) for the cake-cutting ceremonia next to a buffet table of dolci. They gave me photos of me and the couple and the wedding favour, to which L whined I got everything and he got niente. Scemo. He fed me some baba and I downed a shot of limoncello for the road. We drove around (our usual wind-down time) and in all seriousness, he said he was really glad I made it to the wedding and I thanked him with sincere gratitude that it was a real eye-opener for me to witness such a unique, joyous celebration among such great company! We had been discussing the menu for months and funnily, it was now over. Teresa's dress survived the day (although her make up did not). No one was drunk or ha vomitato but tutti were deliriously contenti.