Not even a month into 2008 and I'm already tired. NYE's eve saw me flying into London at 6am, where Dad and I set a cracking pace (well, Dad set a cracking pace, I just limped along) at the end-of-year sales on Oxford St. I've only visited Selfridges twice in my life before, and was never able to afford a single thing. But I couldn't believe how good the sales were. I was feeling pretty good having picked up some what I thought were some damn fine looking items, including some cool Paul Smith jeans (hard to resist with purple and green stitching and different sized buttons) and I finally succumbed, about 5 years too late, to a salmon-pink button-down tee. Both sound like horror haute couture items, but it is time for summer! Paul Smith was also the order of the day with this really funky navy blue tee with the fishing chair and tackle. Oh happy days.
It's been a very civilised past couple of weeks, with civilised activities ranging from spending sunny weekends scrubbing my scary shower curtain to lah-di-dah nights at the ballet and orchestra. I've never been to the ballet before, and London is as good a place to see the classic, Swan Lake. Deciding that this was an event worthy of dressing myself up, I actually ironed my good shirt, found my dressy jeans and shoes and unwrapped my good overcoat and boarded the lovely South Eastern train service with people placing their muddy feet on seats. I was glad that I had dressed up - many patrons had dressed up in shirt and tie. And of course, there is the odd minger who rolls up in their oldest tee and jeans and opens packets of crisps in the middle of the silence.
I myself was a bit worried that I was going to get bored with 3 hours of ballet, but I pleasantly surprised. I guess it helps that the English National Opera is one of the premier ballet companies in the world, and it helps even more when you recognise some of the music. My flatmate gave me a quick rundown of the plot beforehand, so I guess I found it easier to follow what was happening. I was impressed with the dancing - much respect for the sheer athleticism, especially for the guys who did the lifts and still managed to prance around with such grace and agility. In many ways, ballet dancing is far harder than kicking around a football (of any code) - you need strength, agility and rhythm to be able to be able to run away without getting mugged by the fat ugly bullies behind the sports equipment shed, let alone end up being the principal dancer.
The next weekend David, Frances and I tried to get to see the London Philharmonic in action (again, causing much panic to discover that I needed to find a clean and ironed shirt). Unfortunately we found out at the door that tickets were sold out! Fortunately, being in London there was enough cultural stuff to share around without anyone being able to be too greedy. We decided to see what West End shows were still available and walked to the West End from Waterloo (crossing my favourite bridge in London with its very pretty views of the London Eye, St Pauls, Westminster and my South Eastern trains trundling along). Along the way we discovered that the newly renovated St Martin in the Field church in Trafalgar Square had a Mozart Requiem night for a bargain 6 pounds. The only catch was that you couldn't actually see the orchestra or choir - you had to sit in the stalls facing other people across you. In hindsight, our reasoning for choosing these seats was fine - we figured that we were there to listen to music, and that we didn't necessarily need to watch bows moving up and down. Let me say that I wouldn't do it again. It was rather unsettling to hear the music like it was on the radio, yet be forced to stay still and quiet, desperately trying to avoid catching the eye of people sitting directly in front of you on the other side of the church. At one stage I closed my eyes and had a nap, letting the opera waft over me, although it was a tad difficult to nap when the tenor and soprano singers threatened to shatter the newly plastered ceiling with their thunderous voices. The sounds of 'bravo!' jolted me up, and I gratefully joined in the chorus.
It has been a busy few weeks. Drinks with my mate Liam from Uni, yum cha with some new friends (although I do wonder when the waiter took us downstairs to the furthest most corner to sit as if they were embarrassed we had chosen their establishment to eat). A friend cooked me a three course meal, I cooked lunch for Rob to entice him out to the depths of Woolwich (the poor boy thought that trains to Woolwich came every 5 minutes like the Tube), and last night I cooked a wicked prawn and chilli linguine for Frances and I to eat while we watched Shawshank Redemption. I had never watched Shawshank Redemption before, and I was glad that Frances made me watch it. I must say I was moved - and a good reminder for me to maintain my friendships at home, despite the distance between London and Melbourne.
Speaking of Melbourne, I am thinking that there is something in the water that I need to get my hands on. Over the past month I have been delighted to hear that a few friends have become engaged, which means that I might/may/perhaps/possibly be travelling home to Melbourne for some weddings. So my congratulations to Di and Matthias, and to my great mate from school Waz, who I've known since I was 9 who has clearly set the bar high by proposing to his Jess in Paris.
But enough of the mushy boo hoo stuff. I myself open a new chapter (though, I must admit that while my blog entries get longer and longer, the time between jobs is getting shorter and shorter). I've been offered a new post with the National Health Service Counter-Fraud Unit where I'll be working as a Policy Officer. I'm excited and yet scared again - I'll be leaving a great bunch of colleagues at the Health Professions Council. I guess it helps that when your colleagues are your own age, but I've been lucky too in how welcoming and friendly they have been. It's always a bit hard when you're not in a permanent job, as I find that I leave when I'm just starting to get to know people and pick up popular phrases - my favourites being "it's well [insert adjective here] and "go on then". I guess it's a matter of when in Rome. The only problem being that Rome changes so bloody often.
So as the effect from my blissful morning of sitting in a cafe in peaceful solititude reading the Observer recedes, I am off to bed to face a new week. It's going to be a big one. Budapest this coming weekend, and then straight after than I launch into my new job.
I'm getting out my bat and ball. Game on?
Sunday, 27 January 2008
Tuesday, 22 January 2008
the step back before going to the beginning (again)
Hello 2008. I don't know you very well. What say we have a quiet drink, get to know each other and then ramp it up as the year goes?
2007 was kind enough to give me a prelude to what 2008 could be. He (well, I had to give it a gender, didn't I? Heaven forbid if I describe "God" as a "He" for you liberal progressives out there) gave me a nice warm sunny holiday in Thailand with my family.
I hadn't been enjoying myself at the end of 2007 - there was the very cold weather (though I did get to wear my favourite duffle coat every day), my new job which I wasn't enjoying too much and a heap of other usual nit-picky things that can make or break your existence. Of course, being the over-reaching drama queen I am, lots of plates get broken.
It was brilliant to escape the London cold. Getting out of London was a breeze - the UK Gods clearly had had enough of me cursing them, as they gave me the benefit of an ON TIME train for the first time in a fortnight. Getting through the checkpoints at Heathrow was a breeze too - this is what happens when you're a control freak like me - I had already packed my 100ml bottles in a BAA-approved clear plastic bag already for quick inspection. Which gave me plenty of time to browse through duty free shops when I ordinarily hate Christmas shopping. Of course, when you've been given free samples of vodka, Baileys and chocolates at 10am there is a lot of Christmas cheer going around. I bought 6 pounds worth of Christmas biscuits in a hideously expensive gesture to my family and family friends who I was meeting in Thailand.
Getting off the flight was a bit of shock to the system - off came the scarves, jumpers, coats, gloves and beanies - I was sweating profusely as I made my way through the enormous new Bangkok airport. My mum/sister/brother were on another flight from Australia that had arrived minutes after my flight, so I was rather excited to see if I could find them. Alas, despite our baggage carousels being next to each other, I was the first to clear customs to meet my Dad. Then there they were - the rest of the circus straggling out. Brother - unshaven, unkempt, in thongs and tee breezed out like he had just drunk a jug of Pimms; sister - clearly in the aftershock of taking travel sickness pills (she's a bit of a poor traveller at the best of times), feet swollen and puffy eyes; and mum - struggling with suitcases she had insisted on pushing out herself.
It was nice to have the 5 of us together and I was talking non-stop - the effects of needing to relay 6 months worth of information before I decided that all I wanted was a cup of tea. Of course, being a Yiu, we can never sit still and do such leisurely things. Straight from the airport it was off to the floating markets in the outskirts of Bangkok which Dad and I had arranged.
The floating markets were a lot of fun, though a bit touristy. Seven people got into a single boat which one middle-aged lady was skippering by herself - an incredible feat to push all of us well-fed Westerners (erm... skinny Asian-Westerners) in a river which was getting more full by the minute. At one stage we were jammed in the middle of a scrum of boats with nowhere to go - but this little Thai lady was incredibly deft in steering us out. She sure put a shame to my driving skills on sealed urban roads. Paddling on we munched on guava and pomelo which we bought from boat-vendors (ok, "vendor" is a bit of a grand term for a poor Thai villager selling fruit from a leaky boat) and I laughed and laughed as we kept on getting stuck in the traffic jam, although I'm sure our captain was cursing our demands to "go here, no, over there! that direction! stop!".
Of course, being a family we had all emailed each other suggestions on what we wanted to do for the rest of the afternoon. Toby had requested a massage, and our family friends in Bangkok knew just the place to go. Toby was delighted - the venue was a 5-star day spa centre. I was secretly delighted, but had to agree with mum who wanted to go out exploring. So we compromised. A 2 hour massage was followed by a wander up and down the chaotic and steamy streets of Bangkok. But let me rub in the massage a bit (hee haw - groan). It was quite possibly the most painfully blissful experience in my life. The polite, demure, gentle Thai massage girl turned out to be brutal with the pressure points and her elbows. As Toby's masseuse explained, "hurt now, nice later". Bloody oath.
The brutal trip continued on with our flight down to Phuket with some family friends. I didn't think Phuket was anything special - the beach was nice, the people very friendly, but I felt that something was lacking. Quite possibly what was lacking was the tranquility with kids splashing about in the fabulous pool and creating a ruckus while I, the tired British civil servant, tried to read a book and drink cocktails in peace. The first day was spent mostly splashing about on the beach and the pool and spending some nice quality time with the family - a long forgotten feeling with the 5 of us wizzing around the world at breakneck speed. The second day, the Yiu family got bored of sitting around by the pool, carefully reapplying sunscreen every few hours (noticing that the people who were just as careful as us were other Australians) and we were off for walks along the coast and a set of golf lessons. One poor Balinese guy had the poor luck of having to teach 5 sports-challenged Chinese people how to play golf. He was hilarious however - he said that the 3 Yiu kids each had one good aspect of their swing that, when combined would be unbeatable. I didn't follow through properly, my sister had her grip wrong and Toby's backswing was too fast. "Be gentle!" he would say to Toby and I - "you are the man!". We laughed and thought about our day jobs.
Of course, with Thailand being so fabulously cheap, we managed to eat our way through an entire village's winter harvest in a few days. The food was oh so good. But what I did discover was coconut icecream. I have never been a fan of anything with coconut, but having decided to try something a bit different than the usual blueberry swirls or what have you (ok - i admit I blanched at the though of the purple Taro icecream). The spending of money continued with a bout of shopping for a tailor made shirt and suit and another massage. Oh. And another swim at the beach. Christmas Day was a bit strange in a holiday resort without the obligatory barbecue, but don't worry! don't panic! we managed to guzzle our way through crayfish, scallops and oysters anyway. I should be ashamed of my gluttony. But I'm not.
After 4 days of burning himself to a crisp by the pool, Toby decided he wanted to have some action, so we headed off to Phi Phi Island. We chartered a boat for the 7 of us which was great - it gave us flexibility to do what we wanted, rather than being forced to do everything under time limits set by tour operators with hundreds of other people. It was a bit of a trek to Phi Phi Island - but as we got closer, we noticed more and more boats speeding up behind us to join the absolute traffic jam of boats trying to get into the bays with the good snorkeling. We dropped in and out of some little bays (stopping off at one beach to feed the monkeys - well - we ended up just watching the other hoardes of tourists provoking the monkeys while we munched on pineapple which was cut up for us like corn-on-the-cob. The beaches and bays were so busy that we ended up going for an early lunch so that we could get out of the more busy areas and find our own way after lunch.
Phi Phi Island itself was crap. Backpacker tourists everywhere, touristy shops and just general overcrowding in the peak holiday season. Before we disembarked onto the main Phi Phi Island drag, we had passed an enormous boat so full of people that it looked dangerous. Toby, always having the most smart-arsed description for anything, called it the "refugee boat". And it actually DID look like it was a leaky old rustbucket about to capsize with too many desperate people fleeing from hell. Speeding past the refugee boat, Toby waved politely at the five hundred of them crowded on deck. Not one single person waved. So with all the dignity he could muster, he raised his third finger at the boat. I was mortified. I told him that I hoped that the refugee boat didn't dock at the same place we did.
Turns out that the refugee boat had booked out every restaurant for lunch. Talk about bad karma by association. After dodging the entire population of Queensland on the island, we settled on a small rather run-down eatery full of loud obnoxious Australians who loudly demanded that he wanted his tuna sandwich without mayonnaise. If the feral Aussie had been any more rude to the poor Thai waitress I would have pushed him underneath the refugee boat. I was sickened at how these backpackers, who loudly proclaim their cultural tolerance, carry on like they have evolved from under a rock. But back to our lunch. Being savvy travelers who travel a fair amount, we all ordered cooked food and cans of coke rather than bottles. Then the combination of the heat and hunger took its toll - Toby and I started to snipe at each other, escalating into a full-blown argument in the middle of the eatery. Now it was our turn for people to look at us - two similar looking Chinese boys nit-picking over the most mundane matters. Our parents even had to intervene. I felt right at home.
At the end of lunch it was off to find a nice snorkeling spot. We moored in a pristine and beautiful inlet, about 100 metres away from the beach. With not a single boat in sight, we attracted fish to the boat with bananas and got into the aqua water. While my siblings were pretty quick to dive in, I dithered about, fretting without having my glasses on and being completely blind in the water. With the stunning clear blue water now an enormous blur, I jumped in and paddled around. I relaxed and headed towards the beach. Then, terror struck. In front of me was what I thought was a jellyfish coming straight towards me. I flailed about in the water, taking gulps of seawater, making me gag, my snorkel filling with water and thrashed in a backwards direction. When I had managed to swim away, I resurfaced at the back of the boat - with the entire boat laughing at me.
I had swum past a plastic bag.
I really must look more carefully at those laser eye leaflets.
But it was time to head back to Bangkok for the Yius to split up again. Because Dad travels so often, we were upgraded to the executive suite at the hotel which was fabulous. It was a tough life, having high tea at the top level of the hotel. But it was back to reality.We were shocked to see that Benazir Bhutto had been assassinated - it is those moments when it only reinforces how privileged I am. To live in a democratic country where people aren't killed for merely turning up to place a piece of paper in a ballot box.
And then it was time to say goodbye to mum, sister and brother who were returning to Australia. Dad was flying to London for work meetings and would fly back with me. We spent the last day in Bangkok taking it easy, a slow breakfast with the papers, a wander through the streets, a simple lunch of noodles. Dad brought me along to meet one of his friends - an economic adviser to the Thai government. A chat about the Thai election turned into a Chinese dinner and a hunt for some cheap DVDs for me before it was time to fly home to London.
It was strange landing in London - I had massive deja vu of the feeling when I first arrived to live in London. And yet, I felt at home. Being back in my flat was reassuring, yet I couldn't get rid of the niggling feeling that this was someone else's flat.
Probably because of how tidy my flatmate had left it.
2007 was kind enough to give me a prelude to what 2008 could be. He (well, I had to give it a gender, didn't I? Heaven forbid if I describe "God" as a "He" for you liberal progressives out there) gave me a nice warm sunny holiday in Thailand with my family.
I hadn't been enjoying myself at the end of 2007 - there was the very cold weather (though I did get to wear my favourite duffle coat every day), my new job which I wasn't enjoying too much and a heap of other usual nit-picky things that can make or break your existence. Of course, being the over-reaching drama queen I am, lots of plates get broken.
It was brilliant to escape the London cold. Getting out of London was a breeze - the UK Gods clearly had had enough of me cursing them, as they gave me the benefit of an ON TIME train for the first time in a fortnight. Getting through the checkpoints at Heathrow was a breeze too - this is what happens when you're a control freak like me - I had already packed my 100ml bottles in a BAA-approved clear plastic bag already for quick inspection. Which gave me plenty of time to browse through duty free shops when I ordinarily hate Christmas shopping. Of course, when you've been given free samples of vodka, Baileys and chocolates at 10am there is a lot of Christmas cheer going around. I bought 6 pounds worth of Christmas biscuits in a hideously expensive gesture to my family and family friends who I was meeting in Thailand.
Getting off the flight was a bit of shock to the system - off came the scarves, jumpers, coats, gloves and beanies - I was sweating profusely as I made my way through the enormous new Bangkok airport. My mum/sister/brother were on another flight from Australia that had arrived minutes after my flight, so I was rather excited to see if I could find them. Alas, despite our baggage carousels being next to each other, I was the first to clear customs to meet my Dad. Then there they were - the rest of the circus straggling out. Brother - unshaven, unkempt, in thongs and tee breezed out like he had just drunk a jug of Pimms; sister - clearly in the aftershock of taking travel sickness pills (she's a bit of a poor traveller at the best of times), feet swollen and puffy eyes; and mum - struggling with suitcases she had insisted on pushing out herself.
It was nice to have the 5 of us together and I was talking non-stop - the effects of needing to relay 6 months worth of information before I decided that all I wanted was a cup of tea. Of course, being a Yiu, we can never sit still and do such leisurely things. Straight from the airport it was off to the floating markets in the outskirts of Bangkok which Dad and I had arranged.
The floating markets were a lot of fun, though a bit touristy. Seven people got into a single boat which one middle-aged lady was skippering by herself - an incredible feat to push all of us well-fed Westerners (erm... skinny Asian-Westerners) in a river which was getting more full by the minute. At one stage we were jammed in the middle of a scrum of boats with nowhere to go - but this little Thai lady was incredibly deft in steering us out. She sure put a shame to my driving skills on sealed urban roads. Paddling on we munched on guava and pomelo which we bought from boat-vendors (ok, "vendor" is a bit of a grand term for a poor Thai villager selling fruit from a leaky boat) and I laughed and laughed as we kept on getting stuck in the traffic jam, although I'm sure our captain was cursing our demands to "go here, no, over there! that direction! stop!".
Of course, being a family we had all emailed each other suggestions on what we wanted to do for the rest of the afternoon. Toby had requested a massage, and our family friends in Bangkok knew just the place to go. Toby was delighted - the venue was a 5-star day spa centre. I was secretly delighted, but had to agree with mum who wanted to go out exploring. So we compromised. A 2 hour massage was followed by a wander up and down the chaotic and steamy streets of Bangkok. But let me rub in the massage a bit (hee haw - groan). It was quite possibly the most painfully blissful experience in my life. The polite, demure, gentle Thai massage girl turned out to be brutal with the pressure points and her elbows. As Toby's masseuse explained, "hurt now, nice later". Bloody oath.
The brutal trip continued on with our flight down to Phuket with some family friends. I didn't think Phuket was anything special - the beach was nice, the people very friendly, but I felt that something was lacking. Quite possibly what was lacking was the tranquility with kids splashing about in the fabulous pool and creating a ruckus while I, the tired British civil servant, tried to read a book and drink cocktails in peace. The first day was spent mostly splashing about on the beach and the pool and spending some nice quality time with the family - a long forgotten feeling with the 5 of us wizzing around the world at breakneck speed. The second day, the Yiu family got bored of sitting around by the pool, carefully reapplying sunscreen every few hours (noticing that the people who were just as careful as us were other Australians) and we were off for walks along the coast and a set of golf lessons. One poor Balinese guy had the poor luck of having to teach 5 sports-challenged Chinese people how to play golf. He was hilarious however - he said that the 3 Yiu kids each had one good aspect of their swing that, when combined would be unbeatable. I didn't follow through properly, my sister had her grip wrong and Toby's backswing was too fast. "Be gentle!" he would say to Toby and I - "you are the man!". We laughed and thought about our day jobs.
Of course, with Thailand being so fabulously cheap, we managed to eat our way through an entire village's winter harvest in a few days. The food was oh so good. But what I did discover was coconut icecream. I have never been a fan of anything with coconut, but having decided to try something a bit different than the usual blueberry swirls or what have you (ok - i admit I blanched at the though of the purple Taro icecream). The spending of money continued with a bout of shopping for a tailor made shirt and suit and another massage. Oh. And another swim at the beach. Christmas Day was a bit strange in a holiday resort without the obligatory barbecue, but don't worry! don't panic! we managed to guzzle our way through crayfish, scallops and oysters anyway. I should be ashamed of my gluttony. But I'm not.
After 4 days of burning himself to a crisp by the pool, Toby decided he wanted to have some action, so we headed off to Phi Phi Island. We chartered a boat for the 7 of us which was great - it gave us flexibility to do what we wanted, rather than being forced to do everything under time limits set by tour operators with hundreds of other people. It was a bit of a trek to Phi Phi Island - but as we got closer, we noticed more and more boats speeding up behind us to join the absolute traffic jam of boats trying to get into the bays with the good snorkeling. We dropped in and out of some little bays (stopping off at one beach to feed the monkeys - well - we ended up just watching the other hoardes of tourists provoking the monkeys while we munched on pineapple which was cut up for us like corn-on-the-cob. The beaches and bays were so busy that we ended up going for an early lunch so that we could get out of the more busy areas and find our own way after lunch.
Phi Phi Island itself was crap. Backpacker tourists everywhere, touristy shops and just general overcrowding in the peak holiday season. Before we disembarked onto the main Phi Phi Island drag, we had passed an enormous boat so full of people that it looked dangerous. Toby, always having the most smart-arsed description for anything, called it the "refugee boat". And it actually DID look like it was a leaky old rustbucket about to capsize with too many desperate people fleeing from hell. Speeding past the refugee boat, Toby waved politely at the five hundred of them crowded on deck. Not one single person waved. So with all the dignity he could muster, he raised his third finger at the boat. I was mortified. I told him that I hoped that the refugee boat didn't dock at the same place we did.
Turns out that the refugee boat had booked out every restaurant for lunch. Talk about bad karma by association. After dodging the entire population of Queensland on the island, we settled on a small rather run-down eatery full of loud obnoxious Australians who loudly demanded that he wanted his tuna sandwich without mayonnaise. If the feral Aussie had been any more rude to the poor Thai waitress I would have pushed him underneath the refugee boat. I was sickened at how these backpackers, who loudly proclaim their cultural tolerance, carry on like they have evolved from under a rock. But back to our lunch. Being savvy travelers who travel a fair amount, we all ordered cooked food and cans of coke rather than bottles. Then the combination of the heat and hunger took its toll - Toby and I started to snipe at each other, escalating into a full-blown argument in the middle of the eatery. Now it was our turn for people to look at us - two similar looking Chinese boys nit-picking over the most mundane matters. Our parents even had to intervene. I felt right at home.
At the end of lunch it was off to find a nice snorkeling spot. We moored in a pristine and beautiful inlet, about 100 metres away from the beach. With not a single boat in sight, we attracted fish to the boat with bananas and got into the aqua water. While my siblings were pretty quick to dive in, I dithered about, fretting without having my glasses on and being completely blind in the water. With the stunning clear blue water now an enormous blur, I jumped in and paddled around. I relaxed and headed towards the beach. Then, terror struck. In front of me was what I thought was a jellyfish coming straight towards me. I flailed about in the water, taking gulps of seawater, making me gag, my snorkel filling with water and thrashed in a backwards direction. When I had managed to swim away, I resurfaced at the back of the boat - with the entire boat laughing at me.
I had swum past a plastic bag.
I really must look more carefully at those laser eye leaflets.
But it was time to head back to Bangkok for the Yius to split up again. Because Dad travels so often, we were upgraded to the executive suite at the hotel which was fabulous. It was a tough life, having high tea at the top level of the hotel. But it was back to reality.We were shocked to see that Benazir Bhutto had been assassinated - it is those moments when it only reinforces how privileged I am. To live in a democratic country where people aren't killed for merely turning up to place a piece of paper in a ballot box.
And then it was time to say goodbye to mum, sister and brother who were returning to Australia. Dad was flying to London for work meetings and would fly back with me. We spent the last day in Bangkok taking it easy, a slow breakfast with the papers, a wander through the streets, a simple lunch of noodles. Dad brought me along to meet one of his friends - an economic adviser to the Thai government. A chat about the Thai election turned into a Chinese dinner and a hunt for some cheap DVDs for me before it was time to fly home to London.
It was strange landing in London - I had massive deja vu of the feeling when I first arrived to live in London. And yet, I felt at home. Being back in my flat was reassuring, yet I couldn't get rid of the niggling feeling that this was someone else's flat.
Probably because of how tidy my flatmate had left it.
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