somewhere hot, somewhere sunny

the cat is safely at the cat-sitter's, the luggage is almost done (how do you pack an elephant in a suitcase anyway?), checked in via internet already and i've passed my key to the fairy godmother of my plants. i don't want a repeat of plant killer...

i'm in the process of emptyng the fridge... i'd almost forgotten about my peaches soaking in martini. i'd made them on saturday because the peaches i'd bought a week before that were starting to rot. the peaches soaked in martini, mixed with canned litchis, taste heavenly. the martini was stained to a light shade of pink. it makes a very pretty drink, perfect for impressing guests. trust me on this, even though i'd greedily slurped everything up by myself.

when i bought the canned litchis in chinatown, my friend asked, why do you get the canned versions when you can get the fresh ones? litches are in season now... i told her that i use it for cocktails. she nodded - i wasn't sure that she understood. she doesn't drink. canned litchis are one of my favourate mixers for cocktails with vodka or martini or whatever alcohol i have.

so anyway, i'm almost all ready to go on holidays. a true one. something that last more than a long weekend. the last big one was in turkey at the end of last year. that's almost too long ago.

where to?

this time, somewhere hot. somewhere sunny. i'm heading back to southest asia. oh, how much i miss my beloved southeast asia. add a splash of a wedding to attend, a job interview or two, a mega dive trip how exciting! and lots of bumming around doing nothing... hot hot hot weather and delicious food. what more can i ask for? except maybe to get there sooner. never mind, i'm happy enough as it already is.

good night and see you when i'm on the other side of the earth. oh, and dream of me from time to time, ok?

exposition of imagination

world expositions used to be the only way that industries and people alike can catch a glimpse of the latest technology, the culture and the exotic lifestyles of countries far away. i was just at a photo exhibition in musee du carnavalet of Willy Maywald, a photographer based in paris in the 30s. included in his collection were photos and filmstrips of the universal expositions held in paris.

they were very simple black and white photos: foreground of smiling, excited visitors amazed by the sights and sounds from distant lands. in the background, we can see the minirets of the north african pavilian, the lush tropical plants from the south american displays, the latest technology from hidden scientific laboratories. imagination gone berserk! spare no expense! the intention was to leave the visitors awestruck and speechless. and they did.

here in paris, we have to thank the universal exposition 1889 for the eiffel tower and 1900 for the grand palais. till this day, these beautiful structures still wow tourists and locals alike.

now, these type of expos have lost most of their glamour and excitement. we have moved on to the age of easy knowledge. tunisia? been there. brazil? overhyped. hawaii? my brother sent me a postcard from there last year. we are a global village now. wherever we can't travel to, we google or wiki. or we buy the latest lonely planet. frankly, with cheap flights heading everywhere, mobile phone and internet services in even the most remote parts of the world, i fail to see how our planet can ever be lonely.

slight change of plans. i cancelled a trip to milan last weekend, knowing that i can make the short flight there anytime. instead i stayed in paris, made dinner (spanish starter, italian main course) for an american friend, after which we headed to a canadian bar where i drank scottish beer. it is not something that i even think about now, this globalisation and international mix.

we take so much for granted that our imagination is dying.

where is our next frontier? space? the deep sea? strangely enough, our generation are not captivated by space travel (or time travel for that matter) as the generations before us. remember all those HG Wells or Jules Vernes books we read as a child? a little old-fashioned now, perhaps, but harry porter doesn't capture the imagination in quite the same way.

well, what can we say when NASA is cutting its budget, and we are fighting over the satellite defence system over eastern europe?

what can we do to revive the age of the runaway imagination?

solace

champagne makes me sad.

actually, it makes me pensive. and being pensive eventually makes me sad.

perhaps it's because i find champagne too bubbly, too celebratory. it feels almost like one is obliged to celebrate something, or be in a state of happiness, while sipping a flute. big wide grins stretching from ear to ear. congratulations! happy new year! a flash of white teeth. a toast! happy birthday!

depressed people don't drink champagne. it is never the alcohol of choice when drowning one's sorrows. what happens when the bottles are empty? when the bubbles have frizzled out? what is left?

flat wine that is sharp on the tongue. the golden hue a faded yellow and an empty green bottle with gawdy gold trimmings.

no solace to be found there...

coffee

how many cups of coffee does it take to fire me up today?

two for the morning, for my sleepy eyes. struggling to open up for all the emails awaiting patiently in my inbox. most of them from asia which means a fast response before the end of their day. before i am fully awake. i put on my music and start working. read, forward, attach, reply. *type*type*type* my fingers fly across the keyboard.

one before lunch, accompanying my telephone calls, as i make the rounds with my counterparts. hello, how are you? how are things? do you need my help? what do you need? can you help me? do you have what i need? let's talk some more tomorrow.

two after lunch, to drag myself back into the office. it was a struggle, when the sun is smiling happily at me. spreadsheets to verify and reports to complete. more phonecalls, perhaps. and more torturing of my intern/slave. he never complains... i suspects he likes working. yes, he will have a bright future ahead. flitting anger at my manager for his negligence, it's becoming quite frequent, this anger with him. but it lasts for only 2 minutes and then i carry on with work. it's futile to fight with him. the boss is always right, right? quick preparation for my meetings tomorrow. emails to send to my asian counterparts. make sure i copy the right people, push the right buttons.

and now... should i work late today? or start early tomorrow morning? lots already accomplished today, surprisingly. and the sun is still beckoning.

my coffee effect is wearing out but i am leaning more towards a lychee martini instead... i think i deserve one today. yes... it's time to head out of the office. i can fight my battles tomorrow, with the help of a few cups of coffee.

cars

i like fast cars. i like riding fast cars. i don't drive fast anymore but i had raced up and down the M1 highway in the rainy british nights trying to beat the clock. accelerator to the floor, fingers cold on the steering wheel, eyes trying to cut through the british fog, listening to bbc radio 1, my entire body vibrating with the hum of the car. it came to an end when i found out the conversion rate of miles in the speedmeter into kilometres. i had a fright. wow. ah, a wee bit too fast, perhaps. getting a speeding ticket didn't help much either.

ah, those younger wayward days!

i'm better behaved on the roads now. but i still like fast cars. not every day. i like my every day car to be calm and a little old-fashioned : an old beat-up fiat 500 would be perfect. quaint and easy to park.

riding in a fast and furious car makes me smile. i have a friend who has an impressive juiced up car. in fact, i have 2 good friends who are into hot rods. i guess that makes it 2 fast 2 furious. (couldn't resist the joke.) i like being driven in their fast car. it's not about the adrenaline rush. it's not about beating the red light. it's all about control.

total control.

the asphalt, the car, the silent growl of the motor, the control over everything at high speeds. where even a slight mistake can result in shredded metal. the speed at which everything else pales in comparison.

is it the same feeling when we travel close to the speed of sound? or the speed of light at 299 792 458m/s? how does it feel to be approaching the speed of light? in theory, there would be total silence as we leave sound far behind us. and darkness too, as we will be travelling at the same speed.

and at what speed is the speed of thoughts? will i cease to think? will time stand still?

i'm not a motorhead. i will never go gaga over a modified skyline or supra with suspension so low that i cannot go over a tiny road bump without scraping my undercarriage. neither will i drool over a roadster or coupe or something built so flat that i have to lie down in order to drive it. in fact, if you ask me what car just drove by, i would answer, it was a red one. or a black one. or a silver one, whichever was the case.

but i do like fast cars. the faster the better.

don't tell

2 days ago, i ran into someone from work. he said hi and introduced the woman whom i thought was his wife to me. it wasn't. they were standing outside a hotel. everything else along that stretch of narrow street was closed by that time of the evening. he said they were heading out for dinner together.

because he wasn't someone whom i know very well, and not wanting to cause any awkwardness, i wished them bon appetit et bon soirée and continued my way.

from the stories that i've heard since i arrived in france, it seems cheating behind your partner is not an uncommon happening here. cheating within a year of getting married, cheating when their spouse was travelling for work, cheating with someone from work, cheating on a dirty little weekend... cheating in all the variations imaginable. i must confess i was rather impressed with the amount of effort and creativity.

cheat cheat cheat CHEAT cheat cheat cheat

sometimes the partners know, but choose to turn a blind eye; other times the partners turn violent when the truth leaks out.

always, someone ends up hurting.

the question i pose: why?

if you're not sure, then why tie the knot. why settle for him if he's not the one? why change your mind after promising to go through thick and thin, till death will you part?

is indeed the challenge of the chase and the sense of danger so attractive that one is willing to hurt his nearest and dearest?

i really don't understand. perhaps one day, i might. but if you ever catch me standing outside a third rate hotel in the middle of a deserted street with a strange (but charming, of course!) man, do stop and shake some sense into me.

thank you in advance.