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.