Methinks Singapore should move South. Or North. Just somewhere cooler.

Just got back from Perth this morning. The weather was great, compared to the humidity of Singapore (perhaps affected by the impending eruption of the volcano I've been hearing about). But turning into my neighbourhood, it was hard not to get excited seeing all the banners PAP and Worker's Party have put up in anticipation of 6 May. Will try to get some pictures of the scene around here, and post the pictures soon.

Anyway. I wish I could blog more often, because I really miss getting regular comments (what's the link between the two? If I blog only intermittently, people'll stop coming to as often, and thus leave less comments). And partly 'cause it's boring to see the same thing for too long at the top of the page. But I really can't help it; if it's not the time I don't have, then it's the fear that I may be committing a breach of contract. Specifically -

but I realise that I shouldn't elaborate. Suffice to say, The Company has added an entire section devoted to blogs.

Photos, anyone?

I found this flyer lying on the field located just outside my hotel. [Grandmother story alert:] Googling on it revealed that ANZAC stands for Australian and New Zealand Army Corps; the day is a commemoration of the armed forces who sacrificed their lives in the first World War. The significance of their participation in the war lies in the fact that back in 1914, Aussie was a new country eager to establish itself in the world. Over 8,000 Australian soldiers were lost in the war. (More info here.)

On the other side of the field lies a lake, named the Swan Lake. I wonder if the ballet has ever been staged there... Hmn. Saw quite a few birds. And many many feathers.

Quite the photo-whore, this seagull gamely posed for a few pictures for me.

Conversely, this sea-bird (I don't know what it's called) which was sunning its wings shifted away uneasily when I got too near.

No swans in sight, however.

Fake Kitties by a shop window. The Asian population living in Perth seems to be quite substantial, if these gift shops are anything to go by. The salespersons I've seen so far are all of Chinese descent, I believe. (Edit: In fact there were a lot of Asian eateries all over. Even one of the guys working at Subway was Asian. I guess Perth isn't one of those places where rasicm is pervasive.)

The requisite vanity shot - which isn't that nice, actually, but I don't really know what other photo to upload hah. On another note, check out this link (in which a dubious character named Hard Gay pays an unannounced visit to the Yahoo! offices), that I got from my soci blog. Hilarious.

Hence concludes a rather boring post. Time for bed!

Edit: I really ought to add more sights of Perth to make this entry more relevant. Actually, the only place I went to was Hay Street, which is a little shopping district, so that's all that you have to content yourself with, dear reader.

Two very different places of worship, one juxtaposed over the other.

The famous Roc Candy of Aussie. Not that I'd heard of it until now.

Elder Paik and his novel (or is it traditional?) method of asking for alms.

There were in fact quite a few buskers on Hay Street, like musicians, spray-paint artists, and mime artists, one of whom mesmerised me so much with his slick moves choreographed to the likes of Justin Timberlake's Rock Your Body that I did not take any more pictures.

The Bed Usurper

(hee.)

The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind

Ah, it's so good to be home. Nothing beats being back with your loved ones, being back in your room (no matter that it's so messy getting in an out of it is practically an exercise in navigational travel).

That's what I was thinking to myself early yesterday morning, as the coach my colleagues and I were on drove over the Tsing Ma Bridge (which bears a striking and, I suspect, deliberate resemblance to the Golden Gate Bridge). It was perfect, watching the ships below us pass by, the post-dawn morning revealing the fauna on the hillsides, the dog and his master walking up the then-deserted road leading up to Disneyland, my trainee buddy nodding off next to me. Absolutely ordinary, plebeian, routine even, but the beauty of it was: I was there.

Better still, I was going home, home to The Boyfriend (who hopefully would be waiting for me at the airport) and everything that I so love. And having nothing to do, I decided to go through the things in my standard-issue handbag, just to make sure everything was there.

The first thing I pulled out was my passport - funny, my bag feels a lil empty... maybe because I left the wretched hairspray in my cabin bag. Hmn, wait a sec.

Oh.

No.

The moment I grasped the reality of it (ie getting past the oh-no-this-can't-be-happening-to-me phase, which thankfully took all of 2 seconds, because time was of the essence), I grabbed the wrist of my buddy, waking her with a start. And, point-blank:

"We left our passports in the safe."

I looked as the horror of realisation sank in onto her face. Consequences were dire if we didn't get those back. We wouldn't be able to board the flight, we'd be stranded, when we finally get our sorry selves back to Singapore we'd be called back to the office where there'd be certain death waiting for us in the form of Office Investigations with the Management. Oh god.

Quickly, we informed our supervisor (and praise be to everything that is good and pure on this earth, because we got a nice one), called the hotel - which was a stroke of luck in itself, because my buddy, whom I shared the room with, hadn't surrenderred the card key which came with the hotel's number because she had been busy settliing a bill - and got the hotel staff to rush the passports down to us, who were by then about 20-30 minutes away.

The price (literally) we had to pay? A freaking HKD$500 (or roughly S$100). Them opportunistic Hongkongers. But it was worth it, because what mattered is that we made it in time, despite the embarrassment of having to trouble the counter staff to escort us to the aircraft, where an off-duty captain stood waiting for us at the door. Most of all - there would be no office enquiry. Alibaba thankyoumama.

And that's not the only stupid mistake I made. On the way up, I chose only to bring a garment bag, besides my check-in luggage (for all the shopping I was to do there) , only to be told, sternly, that hand luggage was mandatory, and that I could be written in for the lapse. Once again, I was lucky to get a kind supervisor who decided close off the proverbial eye and let me off - once. And, as penance, blew S$100 buying a new cabin bag.

Well then, that's that. Enough drama for the day. Pictures, people! More exciting are the HK ones, mainly because we had more time there, and also because in Auckland (so yes, that's where the tower stands) shops close at 6pm and we were pretty much in the outskirts anyway, so I was told. But because I am idiocyncratic, I will present the pictures in chronological order - with regards to which city I visited first, not the date/time that the pictures were taken. Thank you.

A King-sized bed, all to myself!

I wonder if this'll sell well in Asia.

A very sago-ey warm sago dessert. Nothing like those we have in Sing!

One of the beautiful buildings in Auckland. This one was particularly well-lit. Many older buildings were sandwiched between more modern, nondescript ones, making an interesting juxtaposition. I wonder how much more kooky and wonderful it would be like in Barcelona, hmn.

For some weird reason, the words on the side of the building say, on the top and bottom respectively, "Crashing from 125km/h is like falling from here" and "Crashing from 90km/h is like falling from here". Maybe its got something to do with the elevators.

Outside a bank. The girl on my left is my training buddy. Sorry guys, she's taken.

What happens when you need to pee and the only loo for 20 miles around is closed and locked up for the night.

I know I look really wrapped up, but in reality it wasn't that cold. I just didn't know how low the temperatures would really get at night, and so brought the only winter jacket I had along with me. A thick jacket would've sufficed, actually. Still, it was fun walking around like that for the first time in my life, even if it elicited sarcastic comments like "It's freezing, huh?" from the locals we passed by.

And while I over-estimated how cold it would be in Auckland, I under-estimated how cold it would get in Hongkong. The newspapers said 26-29 degrees Centigrade. 26-29! That's like Singapore, I thought. But when I got there, boy. Brrrrrr. My holey cardigan was no match for the wind. Which was a good excuse - erhem, I mean, reason, for me to buy some winter wear at the Esprit Factory Outlet there. Among the many things I got:

The drink du jour in HK: Honey lemon. Way better than the mediocre (now, I know) fare sold at the local S-11.

Picture 1 (on the left) - Left: Wan Ton Noodles (too salty for my taste); Right: Tomato-beef hand-made noodles (very nice)
Picture 2 - Background: Tofu with braised egg; Left: Bamboo shoots (not sure how it was prepared); Right: some kind of dumpling with curry sauce. Nice.

Yummy roasted chicken hanging on the display rack, albeit a lil skinny? Take a closer look. Those are pigeons! The Boyfriend tells me they are a common sight in HK.

Night

Day

Ah... "Hong Kong! Kowloon Hong Kong, I love Hong Kong..."

I'll be back one day. Armed with more cash, I promise. Uh-huh.

Jules' Clues

For those of you who were guessing where I'd disappeared to, here's a hint:

And this provides a nudge regarding where I'm headed next:

By the by, this indirectly answers the question posed on my last entry - the answer is, of course, Changi Airport.

More pictures when I return! For now, I need to figure out what to pack.

Notice of Absence

For the next week or so, you won't hear from me.

If you know which public toilet in Singapore stocks up on one of these things (a godsend):

Then you will know why.



Answers when I return!

Question: Why are we all wrapped up like mummies?

Think the concussion did some damage to my brain.

(A lil haphazardly put-together but...) More great poses from the rest of my 'mates (love you guys!):

Have you guessed the answer yet?

First-aid class.

And finally, because I can:

The One-Two-Five Manoeuvre (impossible-to-spell word)

Four Beauties

On my way to "school", munching on breakfast on the bus as usual.

On the Cusp of Shopaholism

Well enough about people who irritate you needlessly. Since my dad's in the bathroom, I might as well do more than stick up my side of the room and blog a bit more. I spent a hellava lot of money this month! In fact, ever since I realised my bank account would be receiving lumps of cash in a pattern regular enough to become predictable, I have let all my inhibitions loose. Too loose, in fact. In-excess-of-monthly-salary loose.

And there's no better indicator of how loose than by seeing my personal efforts at boosting the nation's economy, in a span of no more than 30 days:

Tops

Jackets

Bottoms

(Braveheart there isn't one of my purchases, by the way.

I've had him for almost two years lor.)

Footwear

Miscellaneous material guilty pleasures

Please someone tell me how to stop. Especially when I don't even want to!

Something Tells Me She'll Be Out of a Job Very Soon

NB: The following is true to the best of my memory.

I really ought to be more careful about giving out my phone number on street surveys that I do from now on.

On my way home, I received a phone call on my cell. Thinking it could be The Boyfriend (always important) or my mum (also pertinent that I answer the call), I fished for my phone while trying my best not to get tangled in the wires of my NEW! Creative Zen Neeon. (I couldn't resist.)

The number displayed on my cellphone was unfamiliar. Was it from the office? But at this hour? Couldn't be.

"Hello?" said I.

"Hello, good evening," came the muffly reply on the other side. Then, expectant silence.

"... Hello?" again, said I.

"Good evening."

Oh, okay lady, I get it. "Good evening."

"Yes, my name is Angel, I'm calling from Lifestyle Shopping. Do you remember completing any lucky draw form?"

And truthfully, I told, "No."

Her indignant reply: "No? What do you mean no? That you don't remember filling one up or that you didn't?"

"Well yes I do, but I'm always filling up lucky draw coupons." And I started putting up my defenses. Still, I was curious, and decided to play along.

"Well I am calling to inform you that you are one of 20 people to win our consolation prizes." Continuing in a highly scripted voice, and without waiting for me to respond (or maybe she sensed that I wasn't going to), she said, getting even more muffled like she was doing this in a place and/or time she wasn't supposed to, "You have won three items. (The first I forgot,) a luxury European timepiece worth $150, and a *muffly-muffled* trip to Thailand *muffly* eight to nine days worth *muffly* thousand dollars." A triumphant pause.

Ohhhhh, now I see where we're going. I decided to help her cut to the chase. "So I'm supposed to come down, but before I get my prizes I must listen to some seminar, right?"

This was right about when the lady started getting huffy. "We are not a timeshare or holiday chalet company, ma'am, nothing like that," the impatience in her voice getting obvious. Boy, this woman must've had a lot of rejected calls today. But so was I, so I told her that I thought she had a lousy attitude.

"When did I ever say we are a timeshare company, ma'am?" Blah. Blah blah blah blah blah.

Okay, fine. "So can you tell me where I filled in this form?"

Highly rehearsed voice: "Ma'am, I told you, it could be from any shopping centre, petrol kiosk, movie theatre, there are thousands and thousands of them, how can I tell you which? You are one of 20 people picked out from a thousand, how can we keep track of where you filled up your form?"

"So where did you say your office was?"

"Delfi Orchard."

"And what's your company called?"

"Lifestyle (something something, I can't remember)."

"I can forfeit my gifts, right?"

"Yes you can ma'am."

"Okay."

Silence.

More silence.

"Is there anything else?" I queried.

"So ma'am, do you want to come and pick up your prizes?"

"No, I'm going to forfeit them."

Too quickly, and in a fake-happy voice, "Okay, thank you, bye!"

Bitch, did you really think I was going to fall for that sorry excuse of a dupe? Dream on.

Geylang 101

As tempted as I am to bitch about the bee-yoh-ches at my training school, I won't, because I'm a scaredy-cat, and also because the culture of this particular company is such that gossip travels faster than wildfire, i.e. faster than anywhere else. Bloody hell.

But the same cannot be said of my batch mates, who are the probably the most fun-loving, unassuming bunch that could congregate in a little room by virtue of little other fact than that called "Chance" (or some might term it "Fate").

In the two months or so we've been together as a class, we've taken a truck-load of photos already, but these shall be the first time some of these faces grace this here Ms Coddle's blog.

Yesterday, at the behest of Ms Kho, we traipsed down to:

(please allow me this vanity shot.)

for some gastronomical delights.

And on a sidenote, went on a little educational tour.

But as I was informed that they were many watching them, the only picture I took of the ladies working the street was this:

In any case, it wasn't the Night Safari I was at. It was a real eye-opener, though, honestly. Previously, I'd only gone down these streets behind the safety of four doors, which is a completely different experience from physically walking down the roads and past the hourly-rated hotels. And it was a good thing that we went in a large group, because the boys were variously teased and groped at (in the balls no less), while men kept giving me and Jac especially the once-over.

At one point, because we were standing too long at the end of a street waiting for some of the boys to withdraw cash (there was a long queue caused by the uncles who were buying services that came on a cash-only basis), an old bespectacled peh peh even came up to me. Despite wearing a white polo tee and bank pants, funeral-style, and in the midst of tying my hair auntie-style, I was approached. I didn't hear very much of what he had to say however - I simply dived straight into the semi-circular safety zone formed by two of my batch boys who were standing nearby.

Don't get me wrong though, people. I wasn't there to pass judgements at the people who drive the trade, whether on the demand or supply side. I was just there to sample a sociological phenomenon that I would not otherwise get to see in my daily life. As sleazy the feelings you get from being there, I can't help but feel that such deviation from our otherwise squeaky-clean image just makes things more real. It is easy to go home to our comfy lives and think that that is all there is to life, period. But we are not a homogeneous society. These people have their reasons for being there and doing what they do, and whatever those reasons are, it is not for me to put a value on.

I was just there to get an education.

Why Wooden Is Golden

I just threw an ant out of the window. While sticking to my principle not to kill any living thing if I could help it, I don't think my actions are going to be appreciated very much by the little critter. Sigh, the problem with absolute power.

Faced with the annoyance that was the little ant crawling around on my table, I was faced with three options:

1) Snub out its life by rubbing it into a little ball;

2) Pick it up, still alive, and release it outside your window, letting the wind carry it wherever its whim decides; and

3) Ignore it.

I ruled out choice No. 1 because of the afore-mentioned principle not to kill living creatures, and decided against No. 3, which I had considered but rejected because of the possibility of having to deal with dozens more of its kind in the near future (experience tells me that if I let it go this time, it will run back to its nest and inform all its pals that there is a weak ruler out there, and they will wreak havoc on my table). And so, by elimination, I picked No. 2.

What would you have done? Of course, this is a mere ant we are talking about, but superimposing such a situation into something more realistic for eg. what if this were a human, and you were the absolute ruler of a small island, and whatever you did to this person would have absolutely no impact on you, at least not in this realm, but would completely devastate the person's life?

Of course, the most responsible action to take was not included in the possible options to take: that is, Keep Your Room Clean and Tidy and Never Eat In It Again So As Not To Tempt Ants To Come By Looking For Crumbs, Thereby Irritating The Hell Out of You. But we tend to put the blame on others and then choose the easiest way out, which more often than not has negative repurcussions. Maybe not on you (for the time being anyway), but for other people.

What's the point of all this?

I lost my camera.

Well, actually, the camera my dad bought my sis, which made the whole things worse. It happened two Fridays ago, and I was so upset over it it was the only thing I could blog about, yet I couldn't, because you see I didn't want to tell my family that I freaking lost the $600+++ camera.

So why am I blogging about it now? Because it has been replaced, and, since I have served my penance, I can hence let the world know that I lost it out of sheer carelessness (and fatigue). Shan't go into the story of how it happened because it really doesn't matter anymore, but here's the new baby!:

Look how pretty and shiny it is. Its surface reflected my hands holding the camera that was taking its picture! I call it Dimage X1 No. 2, in memory of its predecessor, Dimage X1 No. 1. May she rest in peace. (And may the person who took it and kept it for himself/herself, if that is indeed what he/she did, never find a charger for the camera.)

If you realise, this is a Konica Minolta, the manufacturer which has only recently announced that it is pulling out from the digicam market. So, despite there being an IT fair going on right now, The Boyfriend and I were unable to get my replacement there, because lo and behold, K-M wasn't even a participant in the event. (We suspect it pulled out last minute because The Boyfriend saw its name in an ad publicizing the fair just the day before its commencement.)

Anyway, all credit goes to The Boyfriend, who kept an eye on online auctions for me for second-hand Dimage X1s (we narrowly missed out on one, which was sold for $400), who checked out the participating companies at the fair as aforementioned, and finally, who went down to Mustafa and bargained unsuccessfully with the sour counter men there. I whinged and I whined, but ultimately, he was the one who did all the dirty work for me.

What's there not to love?