Congrats to BEN- the best little brother in the world- on his graduation from Boston College tomorrow!!!
We soooo wish we could be there and cannot wait to celebrate with you in Singapore in just a few weeks!
Clambake 2010 in Singapore?
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Ode to the best kitchen toy ever...
I love Pineapples. Love them. They win the award for best fruit in my book. But much to my chagrin I think pineapples are a huge pain in the ass to cut up. I hate when you get the prickly bits left on the outside, I hate when you get a bite of the hard core. Icky. And this yuckyness really cuts down on my motivation to eat the wonder fruit. While in the U.S. I would have marched in to the nearest Whole Foods and purchased an overpriced cup of perfectly pre-cut chunks of Dole goodness- I cannot bring myself to eat fresh cut fruit from the fruit market here due to questionable hygiene standards and the apparent lack of running water- the two are likely related.
So imagine my delight to have had the foresight to acquire the worlds best kitchen gadget before we left for exile island, which has solved all of these pesky problems! I had a thought that perpetual summer in S.W. Asia would lead to perpetual reasonably priced pineapple- and on this point I was thankfully correct. It may in fact be the only useful thing I bought in anticipation of our sojourn to the orient- (the boxes and boxes of kraft macaroni and cheese and tubs of peanut butter have proved to be dramatically less valuable given their wide spread availability in Singapore- opps). And now, I am so in love with my pineapple toy that I just had to share it with everyone. It goes a little something like this:
Step one- cut top and bottom off of pineapple.
Then the slicer gets pressed into the pineapple.
A few twists later- you get the PERFECT pineapple rings!
If anyone is tempted to own this little piece of heaven, they can be found at Williams-Sonoma. http://www.williams-sonoma.com/products/pineapple-easy-slicer/?pkey=x|4|1||4|pineapple||0&cm_src=SCH
And in a related idea..... if any family member out there happens to read this and notes that Williams-Sonoma is not a retail outlet available here in the Sing... I may have my eyes on the following useful kitchen item... and also may have a birthday coming up =)
The Great Dragon/Pacifier Celebration?
We happen to live right next door to one of the oldest Chinese temples in the city. It is lovely, quiet, serene and the smell of fresh incense wafting from its compound on my morning commute to the subway station is very appreciated.
However my views of this temple have changed due to some rather perturbing events I witnessed today.
On my walk home from the MRT station after a very gratifiying travel-book binge at the local bookstore, I heard drumming and general rowdiness coming from the temple. Great- I think to myself- would be great to see something unique and cultural on an otherwise slothful and indulgent Saturday.
In the distance I spotted this dragon puppet thingie. Cool right? Dragon dancing sounds nice. Then I took note of the uniforms the celebrants were wearing...
OK, florescent orange and yellow is a bold choice- but fine, who am I to judge. But then I noticed the more interesting aspect of their attire....
Proudly sponsored by Huap Lian Transportation Pte. Ltd. For this tid bit, I have no explanation. But don't worry- it gets even stranger.
This looks innocuous enough. Costumed woman dancing. Man clad in yellow viscously snapping a bull whip in her general direction.....
On closer inspection......
Look closely... what is strange about this dancer....
Thats right, in addition to what can only be described as incredibly bizarre and potentially drug influenced dancing, all of the female dancers had pacifiers in their mouths...
After some intense googling in hopes of enlightenment about this celebration, I have no explanation for this dragon/pacifier celebration.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Possibly the Best Idea Ever
A thought I have often had myself although I didnt have the bravado or white paint to make it a reality.
Thank goodness someone did =)
Thank goodness someone did =)
In the News....
Like most things in Singapore- the newspapers can be unintentionally hilarious, confusing and plain odd. Here is today's selection of very strange things:
1) What's wrong with a candlelight vigil or moment of silence?
If you cannot read the text: the relevant portion says:
Some 3,000 people, including Buddhist monks, watched as students mimed raping, bludgeoning, strangling and eviscerating bound victims to remember those who died.
Now I support remembering and learning from tragic historical events- but I am not sure this is the way I would have suggested....
2) Thailand anyone?
Yea- come visit Thailand. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain the violent protests in the streets. Cheap shopping, good food and free flying bullets!
Maybe they should think about waiting to push Thai tourism until say, the foriegn embassies re-open.
This advert is even more entertaining if you take in to account that there were atleast six different articles preceeding this add detailing how bad and scary things are in Bangkok. Good luck guys, better luck next time.
3) Things not to do in China include:
Noted.
This makes me think, in light of recent scandles in the media, Tiger Woods et. al., what must they think of the US?
4) Headline What?
A swear they speak English here. Although I have no idea what this means.
Dear Burrito Blogger
Dear Burrito Blogger,
I don't pick my nose- you're gross. And despite the fact that I like burritos, your blog name is lame.
Looking forward to seeing you and your lovely wife in Asia next year. Give my best to dog Fluetie.
Best,
Erin
I don't pick my nose- you're gross. And despite the fact that I like burritos, your blog name is lame.
Looking forward to seeing you and your lovely wife in Asia next year. Give my best to dog Fluetie.
Best,
Erin
Curtiss v. Curtiss
It hasn't been terrible to work with Dave as opposing counsel on a deal so far and we just assumed that is fairly obvious given the circumstances, that we are in fact married. Apparently not to all parties:
Email received today at work (after 2+ months working on this deal):
Dear Erin,
Just curious.....
Is David Curtiss on the X deal related to you?
Best,
X
How many unrelated Curtiss (with TWO S's) lawyers do they think there are in Singapore?
And yes, this does explain why we stay in the same hotel room and share meals (read: roomservice breakfast) on business trips for this deal. If we were otherwise related wouldn't it be creepy if we were sharing hotel rooms? And wouldn't it be one helluva coincidence that two American's working on a deal just happened to have the same sort of unusually spelled last name?
But if you want awkward- think about having to ask a Partner whether or not you care share a room with your own husband on a trip? It was super fun. =)
Email received today at work (after 2+ months working on this deal):
Dear Erin,
Just curious.....
Is David Curtiss on the X deal related to you?
Best,
X
How many unrelated Curtiss (with TWO S's) lawyers do they think there are in Singapore?
And yes, this does explain why we stay in the same hotel room and share meals (read: roomservice breakfast) on business trips for this deal. If we were otherwise related wouldn't it be creepy if we were sharing hotel rooms? And wouldn't it be one helluva coincidence that two American's working on a deal just happened to have the same sort of unusually spelled last name?
But if you want awkward- think about having to ask a Partner whether or not you care share a room with your own husband on a trip? It was super fun. =)
Thursday, May 20, 2010
English to English Translations
When people are extolling the many virtues of this fine island nation, you often hear the following phrase:
"…and EVERYONE speaks English."
This is true- everyone speaks English. On one very small piece of land you have millions of native English speakers- for example you may have Brits speaking English, Aussies speaking English, Kiwis speaking English, Indians speaking English, Singaporeans speaking Singlish, Americans speaking English and lots of other people who are in fact quite fluent, speaking English. What this results in is the biggest mish-mash, hodgepodge, garbage heap of the language that you will ever encounter in one place.
Now I admittedly work in a Non-US firm, so some language fails are to be expected. In my first few weeks here I often walked around having zero idea what people were telling me. Its often simple things that are easy to translate after some thought. However at least once a day someone says something that completely boggles the mind. And this is Singlish and "can lah" aside- these are people attempting to speak what they consider to be perfectly normal English! As an example, people routinely use the word "fortnight," which if you are interested, means 2-weeks, but never in my life have I heard someone use it in common communication.
Here are some of the most common encountered queen's english fails around my office:
I was getting beasted = I was getting killed at work
How'd you find it? = What did you think/Did you like it?
Get on with someone = get along with someone
I was absolutely pissed = I was drunk
That’s ace/brill - That's good/brilliant
Bugger it/Bugger job = screwed it up
"Look here darling, I have been doing this longer than you have been having hot meals" = ?
Hash key = pound sign
Pitch = field.
Now obviously some of these are more normal than others, but the never ceasing flow of foreign English words in my life is tiresome. In my attempt to translate the English of my co-workers, I have found the following website to be rather entertaining and occasionally useful in translating the vernacular around these parts: http://www.effingpot.com/slang.shtml
The problem I face now is not that I have gotten an ear for it and understand people, it's that their bloody mangled English has made its way in to my vocabulary. I have found myself saying something I swore I never would "keen." I am in fact not keen to incorporate this offensive word in to my world. I also have developed a penchant for using the words: query, queue, rubbish, bloody… the list goes on. "Query" as it turns out is word to be used in diverse manners as a noun and a verb. I have today had a query, and have also queried something. Even the manner in which I say things has subtly changed, I insert "rathers" and "quite" in places they wouldn’t have appeared before. While I have always admired the Brits for their cute little accents and thought it did sort of make them sound more erudite- I have come to accept that they have to utilize their adorable accent to distract from the fact that the words that are coming out of their mouths often don't make bloody good sense. Now there is an argument that it is in fact the rest of the world that is not speaking proper English, since the English as it turns our did in fact develop the language on their island nation long before the existence of the USA. As a response to this- I shall direct all Brits to acquire themselves a history book and quickly sort out what took place in 1774. That's right, we kicked your asses, or arses if you prefer. And I believe that one of the rights that came along with independence, democracy for all and the subsequent development of a massive catchment of English speakers on one continent is the right to be the authoritative source on what does and does not constitute good English. Also, but for us, you Brits would all be speaking German. You're welcome.
Thinking about good spoken English brings me to my next point- which is spelling, and how the Brits don't know how to do it properly. I recently had the pleasure of revising a 300 page document to make sure that the spelling was done according to British conventions. Harbor became harbour, color became colour; judgement became judgment (Ok- that one sort of makes sense), traveler became traveller- and I became enraged that there are so many damn ways to spell the same word. Sometimes it makes sense- I fully support getting rid of unnecessary 'e' in places where it doesn't belong. This probably came from the French, who love letters that don't contribute anything to the word- and since no one likes the French- au revior to the frog-influenced 'e' in many words. I also can respect that in fact it does probably make sense to put the date before the month when spelling out a date- but I do so begrudingly because it looks funny. But double 'l'? What good does that do you? None I argue. Neither does the constant use of 'uo' when just plain 'o' would be fine.
While I have focused my ire on the Brits thus far- let it be said that the residents of their former colonies also contribute to the bastardization of my mother tounge. The contortion of queens english into bizzare New Zealand English and worse, Indian English I can only assume is some sort of revenge for years of colonial rule. I can understand and appreciate this idea- down with imperialism. However, since the Americans, also former colonists, managed to take the language and improve it- I find it generally inexcusable that our fellow former colonies did not do likewise.
"…and EVERYONE speaks English."
This is true- everyone speaks English. On one very small piece of land you have millions of native English speakers- for example you may have Brits speaking English, Aussies speaking English, Kiwis speaking English, Indians speaking English, Singaporeans speaking Singlish, Americans speaking English and lots of other people who are in fact quite fluent, speaking English. What this results in is the biggest mish-mash, hodgepodge, garbage heap of the language that you will ever encounter in one place.
Now I admittedly work in a Non-US firm, so some language fails are to be expected. In my first few weeks here I often walked around having zero idea what people were telling me. Its often simple things that are easy to translate after some thought. However at least once a day someone says something that completely boggles the mind. And this is Singlish and "can lah" aside- these are people attempting to speak what they consider to be perfectly normal English! As an example, people routinely use the word "fortnight," which if you are interested, means 2-weeks, but never in my life have I heard someone use it in common communication.
Here are some of the most common encountered queen's english fails around my office:
I was getting beasted = I was getting killed at work
How'd you find it? = What did you think/Did you like it?
Get on with someone = get along with someone
I was absolutely pissed = I was drunk
That’s ace/brill - That's good/brilliant
Bugger it/Bugger job = screwed it up
"Look here darling, I have been doing this longer than you have been having hot meals" = ?
Hash key = pound sign
Pitch = field.
Now obviously some of these are more normal than others, but the never ceasing flow of foreign English words in my life is tiresome. In my attempt to translate the English of my co-workers, I have found the following website to be rather entertaining and occasionally useful in translating the vernacular around these parts: http://www.effingpot.com/slang.shtml
The problem I face now is not that I have gotten an ear for it and understand people, it's that their bloody mangled English has made its way in to my vocabulary. I have found myself saying something I swore I never would "keen." I am in fact not keen to incorporate this offensive word in to my world. I also have developed a penchant for using the words: query, queue, rubbish, bloody… the list goes on. "Query" as it turns out is word to be used in diverse manners as a noun and a verb. I have today had a query, and have also queried something. Even the manner in which I say things has subtly changed, I insert "rathers" and "quite" in places they wouldn’t have appeared before. While I have always admired the Brits for their cute little accents and thought it did sort of make them sound more erudite- I have come to accept that they have to utilize their adorable accent to distract from the fact that the words that are coming out of their mouths often don't make bloody good sense. Now there is an argument that it is in fact the rest of the world that is not speaking proper English, since the English as it turns our did in fact develop the language on their island nation long before the existence of the USA. As a response to this- I shall direct all Brits to acquire themselves a history book and quickly sort out what took place in 1774. That's right, we kicked your asses, or arses if you prefer. And I believe that one of the rights that came along with independence, democracy for all and the subsequent development of a massive catchment of English speakers on one continent is the right to be the authoritative source on what does and does not constitute good English. Also, but for us, you Brits would all be speaking German. You're welcome.
Thinking about good spoken English brings me to my next point- which is spelling, and how the Brits don't know how to do it properly. I recently had the pleasure of revising a 300 page document to make sure that the spelling was done according to British conventions. Harbor became harbour, color became colour; judgement became judgment (Ok- that one sort of makes sense), traveler became traveller- and I became enraged that there are so many damn ways to spell the same word. Sometimes it makes sense- I fully support getting rid of unnecessary 'e' in places where it doesn't belong. This probably came from the French, who love letters that don't contribute anything to the word- and since no one likes the French- au revior to the frog-influenced 'e' in many words. I also can respect that in fact it does probably make sense to put the date before the month when spelling out a date- but I do so begrudingly because it looks funny. But double 'l'? What good does that do you? None I argue. Neither does the constant use of 'uo' when just plain 'o' would be fine.
While I have focused my ire on the Brits thus far- let it be said that the residents of their former colonies also contribute to the bastardization of my mother tounge. The contortion of queens english into bizzare New Zealand English and worse, Indian English I can only assume is some sort of revenge for years of colonial rule. I can understand and appreciate this idea- down with imperialism. However, since the Americans, also former colonists, managed to take the language and improve it- I find it generally inexcusable that our fellow former colonies did not do likewise.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Things Not Often Seen in Rural Malaysia...
I originally set up these posts for David to do, since he gets jealous that I do most of the posting of cool vacation photos, but since its been weeks since we ventured to Borneo (and I have a painfully boring call on at work) I thought it was time to post some amusing pictures:
This is quite often found in South East Asia. This is admittedly a pretty spectacularly large Rooster- but roaming poultry, even in close proximity to dining establishments, is not in the least bit unusual.
What is less expected is the following picture.
See if you can identify the oddity:
Check out a close up of the picture:
That's right- there is a picture of Hillary hanging at a open air "cafe" in the middle of absolute NO WHERE on the island of Borneo.
On our bus trip to the Monkey spotting river cruise- we took a much needed pit stop at a "restaurant" on the side of the road some hours from Kota Kinabalu. On account of the massive amount of cookies and chips that had been purchased at the hotel gift shop and subsequently consumed en route- we passed on food, but were left with some spare time to relax in the "cafe" while our trusty guide took their first of many "breaks" on this 1/2 day tour. The sights included the giant and frightening rooster above, some mangy cats, Japanese tourists taking pictures of said mangy cats, a barely tolerable restroom, food of questionable hygiene standards and the above picture of our Secretary of State. We assume that the gentleman next to her is a dignitary from Malaysia, maybe even from Sabah state, but our knowledge of Malaysian political officials is limited- so it could well be the cousin of the proprietor or the proprietor himself. While there are many explanations as to why this picture is hanging here- it is certainly entertaining. I am sure Hill would be happy to know she is worthy of wall art pretty much anywhere.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
On Marriage, Communication and Things Unsaid
Much to our disappointment, we are not exactly swimming in seas of friends here. The people we have met are awesome- and we have the memories of our friends in the US to keep us warm- but our busy work schedules haven't been terribly conducive to meeting friendly people here. This has resulted in lots of Dave & Erin time. Lots. And by lots I mean, most every day he is the only person I talk to that isn't giving me work to do. Sometimes I call my Mom in Colorado to spice things up.
I like to think that all of this together time is good for our new marriage. In the almost total absence of other people to talk to it fosters an environment to work on our communication skills, which I hear is a good thing. It will come as no surprise to those reading this that I like to talk. So talk we do. We break it up with time reading our Kindle, but usually that leads to more talking. While I was beginning to wonder if at any moment we might run out of things to talk about, what I have recently realized is that the real fear I should have is things that have gone unsaid over the past years.....
For example, after receiving a very aggressive eye brow threading a few weeks ago, I was intently pondering what was left of my eyebrows in the mirror. Being a light haired individual with next to no eyebrows, the reasons to give my eyebrows an intense investigation have been few and far between in my life. However after I paid good money for my brows to be violently ripped from my face by a very small and menacing Asian woman- I thought I should get up and personal with them to check for permanent damage. As I was reviewing the state of this important facial feature- I realized that my brows are two very different shapes! Despite their presence on my face for 26 years and my use of various methods of shaping over the years- this realization came as quite a shock. Who knew? Well, as it turns out- my husband- and never bothered to bring it up.
I found this to be stunning. I am not one to keep things like this to myself. In fact, I have no doubt that if David's eyebrows were different shapes, I would have told him this many years ago. I frequently tell him such kind and caring things as "hey, you have a zit", "you need a haircut because you are growing a mullet," "you missed a spot shaving this morning" or many other thoughtful and productive comments on his appearance. Who else is going to let him know that he should be using that ear hair trimmer we bought? I firmly believe that one of the benefits of marriage is having someone to tell you when in fact your hair does look bad or no, you shouldn't wear that outfit. I like to think that my gentle grooming suggestions are simply manifestations of my love for my husband and my concern for his lovely appearance. The fact that he is not reciprocating these loving suggestions is extremely distressing. Some might claim that his demurral in highlighting my physical flaws is caused by fear of demands for eye-brow regenerative therapies, but now I am left to wonder- what else is he not telling me?
Fortunately, since we still have empty dance-cards so-to-speak, we will have many more joyful hours spent at home, on planes, in trains, at lunch, at the pool and everywhere else to talk amongst ourselves and I feel confident that in the next two years (or less?) of exile from our friends and family, we will find a way to discuss many important topics, including whether or not my eyebrows are straight and how he feels about my ever-changing hair color. He is excited, I can tell.
I like to think that all of this together time is good for our new marriage. In the almost total absence of other people to talk to it fosters an environment to work on our communication skills, which I hear is a good thing. It will come as no surprise to those reading this that I like to talk. So talk we do. We break it up with time reading our Kindle, but usually that leads to more talking. While I was beginning to wonder if at any moment we might run out of things to talk about, what I have recently realized is that the real fear I should have is things that have gone unsaid over the past years.....
For example, after receiving a very aggressive eye brow threading a few weeks ago, I was intently pondering what was left of my eyebrows in the mirror. Being a light haired individual with next to no eyebrows, the reasons to give my eyebrows an intense investigation have been few and far between in my life. However after I paid good money for my brows to be violently ripped from my face by a very small and menacing Asian woman- I thought I should get up and personal with them to check for permanent damage. As I was reviewing the state of this important facial feature- I realized that my brows are two very different shapes! Despite their presence on my face for 26 years and my use of various methods of shaping over the years- this realization came as quite a shock. Who knew? Well, as it turns out- my husband- and never bothered to bring it up.
I found this to be stunning. I am not one to keep things like this to myself. In fact, I have no doubt that if David's eyebrows were different shapes, I would have told him this many years ago. I frequently tell him such kind and caring things as "hey, you have a zit", "you need a haircut because you are growing a mullet," "you missed a spot shaving this morning" or many other thoughtful and productive comments on his appearance. Who else is going to let him know that he should be using that ear hair trimmer we bought? I firmly believe that one of the benefits of marriage is having someone to tell you when in fact your hair does look bad or no, you shouldn't wear that outfit. I like to think that my gentle grooming suggestions are simply manifestations of my love for my husband and my concern for his lovely appearance. The fact that he is not reciprocating these loving suggestions is extremely distressing. Some might claim that his demurral in highlighting my physical flaws is caused by fear of demands for eye-brow regenerative therapies, but now I am left to wonder- what else is he not telling me?
Fortunately, since we still have empty dance-cards so-to-speak, we will have many more joyful hours spent at home, on planes, in trains, at lunch, at the pool and everywhere else to talk amongst ourselves and I feel confident that in the next two years (or less?) of exile from our friends and family, we will find a way to discuss many important topics, including whether or not my eyebrows are straight and how he feels about my ever-changing hair color. He is excited, I can tell.
On a Lawyers Revolt and an Entirely Unpleasant Happening
Today was rather more eventful than I had planned it to be. The morning began like any other. My alarm went off at 7am, I finally got out of bed at 8:30 promising that I would in fact go to the gym tomorrow-and rushed to work for another thrilling day in the life of a highly unqualified expat attorney. Things got better when I realized that all of the partners at my office are out of the country, in fact, off of the continent- at a swanky partners retreat in Barcelona. While the thought of staying at home in bed all day while the rain makers of the my veritable employer swill sangria all week did cross my mind- I dutifully drug myself from the comforts of home to do work that likely should have been completed days ago.
Things got slightly more interesting when an "all associates" meeting was called. It was decided that while the bosses are rather far away, it would be the perfect time to charge lunch to the firm and have a giant whine fest about the atrocities perpetrated against us hardworking "fee-earners" by the management. This I found to be the most enjoyable thing that has happened in my brief tenure at the law firm. After a strike was ruled out as being uncouth and un-solicitor-like, a formal revolt was planned and the chosen messengers will be delivering our list of demands to thedictator managing partner upon his return from Iberia. Amongst the list of noble requests, it has been suggested that morale at the institution could be uplifted by a financial contribution to a yet-to-be-established social committee for purchase of beer the facilitation of comraderie in the ranks.
I left this revolutionary forum with a sense of gratification that my comrades in the trenches share my desire for more plentiful office supplies, better environs, higher dinner allowances and less unreasonable demands about energy conservation. In my newfound state of elation I returned to my shared office space with high hopes of finishing work before 10pm and eating dinner at an establishment not located in the subway station.
All this hope was to be crushed when out of the blue I was stricken down by a nosebleed of enormous proportions. What adult gets nosebleeds? Is it even possible to get a nose bleed when you live in one of the most moist and humid places in the earth? Sadly, I am apparently such an adult- who despite escaping the dry and frosty air and my childhood in Colorado- has not outgrown a proclivity for nosebleeds. While one nosebleed is hardly cause to rush to seek medical advise, this was my second in as many days, and I have recently been struggling with monster headaches and a never ceasing running nose. So, upon the solid advice of my husband I went to see the Doctor. My motivation to do this was increased by the fact that my office building is home to a drop-in clinic. Long story short- the Docs in the office are mainly quacks- and it after looking at my nose with a flash light, it was wisely suggested by the quacks that I see someone with a medical degree that was not purchased online. I rushed off to Mt. Elizabeth hospital to see a ENT specialist for my now worrisome sinus issues.
Much relieved to see a normal and entirely western looking medical facility I was dismayed when the first words out of the Dr's mouth upon inspecting my nasal canal was something about a prominent blood vessel followed by the words "cauterization." After my nose had been packed with numbing agents, I decided to ask my husband to google what exactly "cauterization" was going to entail. After using wikipedia to sort out the medical ramifications of the term, he smartly decided not to explain the trauma I was about to endure. As one might imagine, the cauterization left something to be desired by the unsuspecting patient.
The lesson subsequently learned here is that when a Doctor says "don't worry, you will not find this to be uncomfortable" you should assume that in fact what he is telling you is that it is going to hurt like a &^#(@ and you should take the opportunity at such time, before the "comfortable" procedure has taken place, to curse him and beg for pain medication. This is because it is entirely likely that after the completion of the entirely "comfortable" procedure you will be in such a state of horror you will be unable to do so. On the upside, I have now seen a movie of the inside of my sinus cavities.... Unfortunately it seems that I will get to go see the nasal torturer again in a few weeks to have some outpatient surgery done on my poor little nose.
So, as Tuesday draws to a close in Singapore, the highs of revolutionary fervor have been replaced by the lows of horrifying nasal violation and my subsequent inability to breath through my traumatized nose. And not even some good drugs to make it all worth it!
Things got slightly more interesting when an "all associates" meeting was called. It was decided that while the bosses are rather far away, it would be the perfect time to charge lunch to the firm and have a giant whine fest about the atrocities perpetrated against us hardworking "fee-earners" by the management. This I found to be the most enjoyable thing that has happened in my brief tenure at the law firm. After a strike was ruled out as being uncouth and un-solicitor-like, a formal revolt was planned and the chosen messengers will be delivering our list of demands to the
I left this revolutionary forum with a sense of gratification that my comrades in the trenches share my desire for more plentiful office supplies, better environs, higher dinner allowances and less unreasonable demands about energy conservation. In my newfound state of elation I returned to my shared office space with high hopes of finishing work before 10pm and eating dinner at an establishment not located in the subway station.
All this hope was to be crushed when out of the blue I was stricken down by a nosebleed of enormous proportions. What adult gets nosebleeds? Is it even possible to get a nose bleed when you live in one of the most moist and humid places in the earth? Sadly, I am apparently such an adult- who despite escaping the dry and frosty air and my childhood in Colorado- has not outgrown a proclivity for nosebleeds. While one nosebleed is hardly cause to rush to seek medical advise, this was my second in as many days, and I have recently been struggling with monster headaches and a never ceasing running nose. So, upon the solid advice of my husband I went to see the Doctor. My motivation to do this was increased by the fact that my office building is home to a drop-in clinic. Long story short- the Docs in the office are mainly quacks- and it after looking at my nose with a flash light, it was wisely suggested by the quacks that I see someone with a medical degree that was not purchased online. I rushed off to Mt. Elizabeth hospital to see a ENT specialist for my now worrisome sinus issues.
Much relieved to see a normal and entirely western looking medical facility I was dismayed when the first words out of the Dr's mouth upon inspecting my nasal canal was something about a prominent blood vessel followed by the words "cauterization." After my nose had been packed with numbing agents, I decided to ask my husband to google what exactly "cauterization" was going to entail. After using wikipedia to sort out the medical ramifications of the term, he smartly decided not to explain the trauma I was about to endure. As one might imagine, the cauterization left something to be desired by the unsuspecting patient.
The lesson subsequently learned here is that when a Doctor says "don't worry, you will not find this to be uncomfortable" you should assume that in fact what he is telling you is that it is going to hurt like a &^#(@ and you should take the opportunity at such time, before the "comfortable" procedure has taken place, to curse him and beg for pain medication. This is because it is entirely likely that after the completion of the entirely "comfortable" procedure you will be in such a state of horror you will be unable to do so. On the upside, I have now seen a movie of the inside of my sinus cavities.... Unfortunately it seems that I will get to go see the nasal torturer again in a few weeks to have some outpatient surgery done on my poor little nose.
So, as Tuesday draws to a close in Singapore, the highs of revolutionary fervor have been replaced by the lows of horrifying nasal violation and my subsequent inability to breath through my traumatized nose. And not even some good drugs to make it all worth it!
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
A Buffet Breakfast to Kill For.
This is my life.....
Email from Erin to Partner X:
I just wanted to let you know that I am planning on flying up Thursday morning to do ***** staying over Thursday night and will do ****** in KL city on Friday. Regarding travel arrangements, is it OK if I book at the Westin- its very close to the offices- I don't know if there is a set policy on hotels in KL that I should be aware of before booking.
Thank you,
Erin
Email from Partner X to Erin:
Westin is fine. I stay there myself whenever I am in KL. Please get corporate rates if possible, and word of caution, please ask for the floor, where the murder did not take place. Not to scare you, and I've stayed there many times since, but you should be aware, we all avoid that floor. Can't recall what floor it is. The buffet breakfast there is simply one of the best in KL (or it was when I used to stay there)
Email from Erin to Partner X:
I just wanted to let you know that I am planning on flying up Thursday morning to do ***** staying over Thursday night and will do ****** in KL city on Friday. Regarding travel arrangements, is it OK if I book at the Westin- its very close to the offices- I don't know if there is a set policy on hotels in KL that I should be aware of before booking.
Thank you,
Erin
Email from Partner X to Erin:
Westin is fine. I stay there myself whenever I am in KL. Please get corporate rates if possible, and word of caution, please ask for the floor, where the murder did not take place. Not to scare you, and I've stayed there many times since, but you should be aware, we all avoid that floor. Can't recall what floor it is. The buffet breakfast there is simply one of the best in KL (or it was when I used to stay there)
Sunday, May 9, 2010
The Real Move In
Well, its official, we survived the arrival of all of our things. It has been a looooongggg weekend of unpacking, and we are both exhausted, but we *almost* have it all finished and its really starting to feel like a home in here. We thought it would be funny to take pictures to document the progress of all of the boxes coming in but at some point it became too chaotic to take pictures and the sight was so frightening it wasn't something we wanted to save for posterity.
No more rental furniture. And just like that we were left with an empty apartment.
Before picture of the office- which subsequently took a lot of abuse.
Dave, impatiently waiting for the Findlay movers to arrive.
And just like magic- the first boxes (and chairs) arrive!
Elation. Joy. Pure happiness. OUR STUFF IS HERE!
More boxes...
The office- taken over by random boxes and homeless furniture
Whats in this box-whats in this box? Still excited at this point...
Uh oh... lots of boxes...and no time to unpack them.
It used to be an office...
Where are we supposed to put all of this?
Well it sort of looks like our living room...
Overwhelmed.
Bomb shelter.
Office in progress.
Empty boxes are a good sign!
Bomb shelter with shelves!
A very close to finished living room- looks just like 1 Irving- minus the Ocean view.
After hours and hours of work- a use-able kitchen! Had no idea how great all the cabinet space we had at 1 Irving was! Will be looking for MASSIVE kitchen storage in the next apartment!
And now that we have use of our living room and kitchen, we had a home-made American brunch on Sunday morning to celebrate!
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Happy Mother's Day!
We want to wish a very Happy Mother's Day to our wonderful mothers, my amazing grandmother, and all of our special aunties.
We love you all bunches and miss you!
We're so lucky to have such wonderful Moms, Grandmas and Aunts.
All Our Love,
E & D
And- a very special happy mother's day to my best friend Brittany- celebrating her very first Mother's Day with Miss Lily.
Our stuff is here! Our stuff is here!
For those who are interested (mainly my Mom)- the boat arrived and the movers came yesterday and unpacked all of our worldly possessions in to 10 Gopeng. It was an adventure- but we are happy to report that the casualties were very low, with the biggest loss being a recently purchased Williams & Sonoma ceramic bread basket- totally replaceable. Its un-believable that all of the china, stemware and dishes made it safely here! We are stilllll unpacking and finding homes for everything- but so glad its all here!
We took a bunch of pictures of the progression- so when we re-locate the camera cord- we will post!
Almost ready for guests---looking forward to seeing Ben in June!
Friday, May 7, 2010
Singapore Corporate Challenge
The JP Morgan corporate challenge is a venerable tradition in New York where thousands and thousands of New York's finest pencil pushers and hourly-billers come together to demonstrate their meager athletic abilities by running through Central Park. The race is a grueling at a distance of 5k. It is also conveniently held in July when the temperatures promise to be either excruciatingly hot or pouring rain- but coincides with the time when summer associates are around to provide their naive un-jaded merrymaking abilities. While the money that is raised for charity is honorable and its nice to see a bank being so community-minded... to be frank- the real draw of the race is two simple things 1) Free teeshirts and 2) Free beer. These two things are basically the American dream incarnate. The fine New York institutions that pay to send their runners to the event are then kind enough to set up tents and tables after the race to congratulate the victorious and out-of-shape corporate crusaders. These tables offer a place for the attorneys and bankers to come together and talk about how they used to be in much better shape before they sold their soul to the man whilst drinking prolific amounts of intoxicating hops based substances. All in all- its an excellent event- not one that should be missed.
With these joyous memories in mind, I eagerly signed up for the Singapore JPM corporate challenge. And also made my loving husband do the same. After a few microseconds of thought on the differences between NYC and Singapore- I quickly realized that while free teeshirts would no doubt abound (free goodie bags go over HUGE here)- the likelihood of free flowing keg beer was slim to none. This was almost enough to drop out of the race- but beer aside- I desperately needed the exercise (and a authorized reason to leave the office.) In a bold move- I eschewed offers to run with my current employer and decided to run with the fine folks from Shearman. This spared me the embarrassment of having to don the bright red sleeveless 1970's throwback tank top that served as the team's uniform. Eeek. Dave's team, however, declined to make sweet teeshirts leaving us to run anonymously. This was initially disappointing because everyone else had team running shirts proudly announcing their respective corporate affiliations - but later turned out to be fortuitous when a ravenous post-race Dave decided to steal food from one of the Bank's private reception tents and was promptly chastised by a large mean Asian man. Probably better to have not been wearing firm paraphernalia for that little mishap.
After big plans to "train" for the 5.6k jaunt around the F-1 track, the race day came upon us before a single sneaker had made contact with a treadmill in weeks (OK- months). And although we knew that no frosty brew awaited us at the finish line- it was still an awesome time. Almost all of the major banks and law firms are located down town in Raffles Place- which meant that the before the race the whole plaza was swarming with corporate runners in their uniforms walking over to the starting line. It was quite the sight to see- good people watching was had. We eventually made it to the starting area- but with over 11,000 runners we ended up a good 10 minutes away from the actual starting line. No worries for us as our athletic goals extended only to not passing out or dry-heaving on the side of the road in Singapore's balmy tropical weather. On this front we were hugely successful. After a bit of walking smashed in body-to-body conditions on the narrow path, we saw some fissures in the wall of humanity and felt inclined to run for a bit. This is partially due to our desperate need for physical activity and also because the use of deodorant is not wide spread in Singapore which doesn't go well with exercise in 100 degree weather.
We ran. Then we walked. We took in the sights. Admired the dedication of those individuals actually choosing to run. Pointed and laughed a bit. And eventually ran some more. I will not be sharing our finishing time as it was dramatically and negatively influenced by the tight crowds and restricted running ability (and *maybe* our lack of "training" and by training I mean, any physical activity whatsoever) Lets just say some people finish half-marathons in the time it took us to walk-run 5.6k. But we crossed the finish line victoriously in our non-branded outfits and queued up to get our goody bags and free JPM teeshirts. I am likely to be accused of being culturally insensitive and making broad generalizations with the following commentary- so I apologize in advance--- Singaporeans LOVE free goodies. Love them, cannot get enough of them, cannot take just one. Raffles Place is the prime spot to hand out random things and do promotions for an untold variety of items. In any given week I could come home with 10 give-aways of completely random junk. But, what prohibits me from getting any goodybags (because I too, love free things) is that monster queue that forms at the first hint of a give-away. I have seen over 50 people line up in the unbearable mid-day sun for the chance to take home a thrilling Standard Chartered bank rubrics cube. And they will stand in line multiple times to get multiple bags. There was an unidentifiable loot give away going on in front of the subway this week- which I almost completely ignored. When I got on the MRT, everyone else on the train had at least 3 or 4 bags each. The race turned out to be no different- as we triumphantly excited the race area, free bag and teeshirt in hand- we noticed that practically everyone around us was proudly sporting multiple give-away canvas bags. Now, this bag was admittedly nicer than the normal junk that is tossed around- but the contents included a re-usable grocery bag, a coupon and a water battle. Who really needs multiple of those items? Ah- the joy of cultural differences.
All told- we had a really fun time at the race. Its always sort of nice to see a bunch of uptight overworked corporate drones let loose and do something fun. It may have even inspired me to start running again- we shall see.
After word:
I realize that this post is exceptionally random, even by my standards, but it is 3am, I am choosing to avoid pending work and too excited about our crate coming tomorrow to really sleep. So please forgive the meandering ramblings of a tired ex-pat. I am sure the codeine cough syrup I just chugged also contributed.
Love to friends and family- miss you guys a lot.
With these joyous memories in mind, I eagerly signed up for the Singapore JPM corporate challenge. And also made my loving husband do the same. After a few microseconds of thought on the differences between NYC and Singapore- I quickly realized that while free teeshirts would no doubt abound (free goodie bags go over HUGE here)- the likelihood of free flowing keg beer was slim to none. This was almost enough to drop out of the race- but beer aside- I desperately needed the exercise (and a authorized reason to leave the office.) In a bold move- I eschewed offers to run with my current employer and decided to run with the fine folks from Shearman. This spared me the embarrassment of having to don the bright red sleeveless 1970's throwback tank top that served as the team's uniform. Eeek. Dave's team, however, declined to make sweet teeshirts leaving us to run anonymously. This was initially disappointing because everyone else had team running shirts proudly announcing their respective corporate affiliations - but later turned out to be fortuitous when a ravenous post-race Dave decided to steal food from one of the Bank's private reception tents and was promptly chastised by a large mean Asian man. Probably better to have not been wearing firm paraphernalia for that little mishap.
After big plans to "train" for the 5.6k jaunt around the F-1 track, the race day came upon us before a single sneaker had made contact with a treadmill in weeks (OK- months). And although we knew that no frosty brew awaited us at the finish line- it was still an awesome time. Almost all of the major banks and law firms are located down town in Raffles Place- which meant that the before the race the whole plaza was swarming with corporate runners in their uniforms walking over to the starting line. It was quite the sight to see- good people watching was had. We eventually made it to the starting area- but with over 11,000 runners we ended up a good 10 minutes away from the actual starting line. No worries for us as our athletic goals extended only to not passing out or dry-heaving on the side of the road in Singapore's balmy tropical weather. On this front we were hugely successful. After a bit of walking smashed in body-to-body conditions on the narrow path, we saw some fissures in the wall of humanity and felt inclined to run for a bit. This is partially due to our desperate need for physical activity and also because the use of deodorant is not wide spread in Singapore which doesn't go well with exercise in 100 degree weather.
We ran. Then we walked. We took in the sights. Admired the dedication of those individuals actually choosing to run. Pointed and laughed a bit. And eventually ran some more. I will not be sharing our finishing time as it was dramatically and negatively influenced by the tight crowds and restricted running ability (and *maybe* our lack of "training" and by training I mean, any physical activity whatsoever) Lets just say some people finish half-marathons in the time it took us to walk-run 5.6k. But we crossed the finish line victoriously in our non-branded outfits and queued up to get our goody bags and free JPM teeshirts. I am likely to be accused of being culturally insensitive and making broad generalizations with the following commentary- so I apologize in advance--- Singaporeans LOVE free goodies. Love them, cannot get enough of them, cannot take just one. Raffles Place is the prime spot to hand out random things and do promotions for an untold variety of items. In any given week I could come home with 10 give-aways of completely random junk. But, what prohibits me from getting any goodybags (because I too, love free things) is that monster queue that forms at the first hint of a give-away. I have seen over 50 people line up in the unbearable mid-day sun for the chance to take home a thrilling Standard Chartered bank rubrics cube. And they will stand in line multiple times to get multiple bags. There was an unidentifiable loot give away going on in front of the subway this week- which I almost completely ignored. When I got on the MRT, everyone else on the train had at least 3 or 4 bags each. The race turned out to be no different- as we triumphantly excited the race area, free bag and teeshirt in hand- we noticed that practically everyone around us was proudly sporting multiple give-away canvas bags. Now, this bag was admittedly nicer than the normal junk that is tossed around- but the contents included a re-usable grocery bag, a coupon and a water battle. Who really needs multiple of those items? Ah- the joy of cultural differences.
All told- we had a really fun time at the race. Its always sort of nice to see a bunch of uptight overworked corporate drones let loose and do something fun. It may have even inspired me to start running again- we shall see.
After word:
I realize that this post is exceptionally random, even by my standards, but it is 3am, I am choosing to avoid pending work and too excited about our crate coming tomorrow to really sleep. So please forgive the meandering ramblings of a tired ex-pat. I am sure the codeine cough syrup I just chugged also contributed.
Love to friends and family- miss you guys a lot.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Borneo in Pictures
We met these friendly fellows at the night market on our first night. I rarely feel comfortable taking pictures of locals, especially kids, but these guys were no strangers to tourists and nearly insisted that I take their photo. In fact the smaller of the two flagged me down and then dragged his friend over so he too could pose. And, since they are adorable, who am I to refuse? I showed them their picture on the digital screen- they were pleased with the results and scampered off to do whatever it is that small children do in night markets at 10pm.
View from our hotel room, Kota Kinabalu harbor and the outlaying islands in the distance.
The slightly less than inspiring Le Meridian pool. Its charm was only enhanced by the smell of rotting fish floating up from the fish market conveniently located directly in front of the hotel.
Cool fishing boats in the harbour.
Don't worry, it was still tied up, so it didn't get away....
Homage to its colonial past?
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