Curry, Water, Wine and Pisco

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2014 is a tall order

Life has suddenly in a matter of months become very exciting, very different. 2014 may turn out to be a game changer after all. I want to strap on my seatbelt and brace myself for the rollercoaster. I just hope no one gets hurt.

Four months in and the new boyfriend still feels new. Sure we have had some fights but none have made me sad yet and none have not ended in very graphic sex. With “I love yous” thrown around as often as the weather changes in Hong Kong, I feel that life has suddenly been filled with fondness of a kind I haven’t yet known. So I can only hope it lasts because I cannot grow tired of this.

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Try dating an unemployed man: The luxury and pure pleasure of having a house-husband

I was at a dinner party 2 Fridays ago, it was being hosted by my friends from business school – a couple. Two other couples were invited as well, bringing the total to four. It was the first time in the longest time that I was going somewhere with a date, a proper couples’ thing (though to my friends’ credit, I am sure this was not a prerequisite for being invited) and it felt great. A French couple introduced themselves to us and I asked them what they did here for a living. The man had a job in telecom and the woman added  “I am a tai tai”. In turn, I said I worked for a bank and and when their eyes moved towards him, Ike chimed in “I am a tai tai as well”. I chuckled but not without admiring Ike’s sense of security to be able to tell strangers so easily that I was the breadwinner, as temporary an arrangement as it may well be.

In both unpleasant ways and pleasant, my life never ceases to surprise me. It has been a little over two months since Ike and I started dating. Considering my track record and luck, it surprises me that things are going this well between us so far. Knock on wood. But what surprises me even more is our whole arrangement – the whole living-together-this-early-in-the-relationship-with-a-stay-at-home-boyfriend. Never in a million years did I think I would be in this particular situation. Nor did I imagine it could be this pleasant. You live, you learn. Continue reading

…the best soy latte that you ever had and me

A small shiver just went down my spine as I try to put together in words my weekend with Ike. It was honest, relaxing and romantic without being contrived, without trying too hard. It was Friday night through Monday morning spent glued together, talking, singing songs, grinding beans and brewing coffee, watching movies, juicing, napping, cooking, doing dishes, holding hands and strolling, shagging, moving from one activity to the next in an organic manner without getting sick of each other. Not in a long time have I felt it this natural, this facile to spend this much time with someone and not run out of things to do or say nor feel any pangs of uncertainty or distrust. Continue reading

In the very wantonness of joy (part 2)

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That night Sam stayed over while I had a vicious, rabid, utterly cruel bout of food poisoning. I slept less than a hour and could not go into work. We still hadn’t slept together and I was almost certain that we never would after that. And I wouldn’t judge him if he didn’t exactly feel attracted to a girl he’d been on 2 dates with and who was currently experiencing her dinner and wines shooting out of all orifices. Or moaning while she lay her stomach on a hot water bottle. Continue reading

May Day Mayday! Brain broken on aisle 7!

From the 2nd of MayMy plans for the May Day public holiday were the same as all days I have free these days. Which is to study study study. But between working the crazy and very stressful hours at work till 10 pm most nights and the crazy studying from 10 pm to 1 am on weeknights and entire weekends, my brain broke. I woke up yesterday feeling completely burnt out. And I don’t like using that phrase one bit. But really I was burnt the fuck out. Continue reading

J’aime comme tu rit

It’s a new year and backlogs must be cleared…a resolution of the Jups as a writer is to stop accumulating drafts especially drafts of travels, be they short, incomplete or hard to decipher. This is from my trip to Phuket in early december.

9th December 2012: It’s a hot afternoon, at least here in Phuket, but I am already on my flight back to slightly cold and very clammy Hong Kong. No complaints though because this fleeting little weekend trip to celebrate Pink’s 30th birthday was short and sweet  and perfect. The sprawling villa is easily the largest one I’d stayed in so far – growing older rocks in that sense. Which is not to say that we acted in the least bit like adults, no there was some “serious” clowning” especially after discovering than an album called “christmas cats” exists and is basically Christmas songs rendered entirely in meows. You haven’t heard a version of Feliz Navidad this cacophonic, or should I say cat-ophonic? Lots of drunken dancing in the pool, and outside, in swimwear and in cocktail dresses. Everything was gender appropriate too – boys danced to “call me maybe” and girls to “gangnam style”. And I discovered that I am actually extremely good at limbo. What a handy thing to be good at!
Phuket has always been so kind to me – I’ve been here 4 times already and everytime I come here, I am flooded with happy thoughts and fond memories. Happy birthday Pink!

karma police

I hope that this week is one that involves very little work seeing as my boss is away the entire time. I was expecting to have to work this weekend and I am truly grateful for not having to. Because I spent most of this weekend awake, sleep-deprived, stuffed-to-the-gills-with-lovey-food, drunk and/or hungover.

Between Friday and this morning, I squeezed in a lot of things – a dinner with Pink and friends, drinks at Shimpy’s beautiful rooftop, a wedding dinner with colleagues, a skype date dinner with Elvish Pixie, two nights of reckless partying a subset of which was an encounter with a ridiculously beautiful half British half Jamaican sportsman who treated me really well and made me wish for such men to exist in the same zipcode  as I as opposed to a whole other continent, a Mexican brunch with an old mate, a stroll around Sheung Wan, an afternoon of lazing on my mate’s balcony with cigarettes and introspection, a surprise visit from an old old friend and jamming with both those lovely boys to songs of Pearl Jam and Radiohead and even Ronan Keating against the backdrop of Hong Kong’s gorgeous sea with ships and helicopters whizzing past.

So I walked into work this breezy Monday morning, it was no wonder that I wished for a weekend to recover from this weekend. As I looked forward to lunch with the beautiful Jamaican British boy before he left for London, I thought of everything (and I really mean everything in the broadest possible sense) I have and continue to experience. I thought of how we (my experiences and I) are like teflon to each other, how it seems to be enough for now and I wondered if it would change. For someone who has chased stability, my ephemeral lifestyle is almost stupidly ironic. Karma Police is stuck in my head (as a carryforward from the night before, and why shouldn’t it be considering how deservedly my recent actions invite judgment and concern?)

And so is the beautiful poem “One art” by Elizabeth Bishop, a perennial favourite of mine, where she so poignantly writes,

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.


—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.