Walk the walk

The national pastime of this country is walking or to be more precise, hiking. The common Germans would have no qualms hiking for 4 to 5 hours straight. Nothing puts them off, even on cold winter days. Today, however, is no normal winter day. The sun was shining brightly and the temperature was at a pleasant 18 degrees. The Germans were out in full force to hike and to enjoy the sunny weather, taking a nice break from the cold. We were no exception.

When Mr R informed me of their plan to go hiking last night, I was not at all enthusiastic. It immediately reminded me of my very first hiking in my life, which was roughly 1 and half year back. We hiked 14km in total that fateful day! This is no bloody ordinary feat for someone like me. Close friends who know me well, are aware that I hate all types of walking, be it hikings, short walks, long walks, brisk walks, marathon walks etc. I'd rather take a bus or flag down a cab. However, the latest reality check is I am not living in Singapore at the moment.

So, despite my unwillingness to hike, I was also painfully aware that a perfect beautiful day would be totally wasted by doing nothing at home. This is Europe and shops are closed on Sundays. Therefore, I went along with their plan reluctantly.

17km! Almost 5 hours of walking, with little breaks in between. The last half hour stretch before our destination which was our car, my body was so spent that my arms hung limp at my sides while I dragged my feet. They felt like lead, by the way. Once I hit the car, I dozed off in no time from the fatigue of the long hike.

This little pixie is one with brains and looks.

Hobbits in the woods??


Pixie finding a way to get down.

Some were getting a sun while some did BBQ.

Pixie was beat.

A Vietnamese Experience

I love soups. To death. Especially broths which have been simmered for hours with tender loving care. All the goodness and the essence of the ingredients would have been transfused from the long simmering into the soups and thereby adding a lovely flavour to them. The flavours, deriving from the ingredients, usually marry well together in the broth, rather than overpowering each other. The end result would be either a clear broth subtle in taste and light, or a rich brew with an intense colour. More often than not, such soups smack of delectable sweetness. What more can one ask for on cold winter days other than a delightful warming soup?

Hence, I'm often seen searching the web for soup recipes. That's how I stumbled upon this recipe for Pho Bo, a vietnamese beef noodle soup. I am no expert in Vietnamese cuisine but I've always loved their Beef Pho and Chicken Pho. In addition, the step-by-step detailed recipe is provided by a Vietnamese cook who has her own collection of cookbooks. Thus, I concluded it would be safe enough to follow her recipe. I was all excited like a schoolgirl on her first day of school and couldn't wait to get my hands on all the ingredients and start brewing away. Which I finally did on Tuesday.

Beef Pho

I am not bragging but the Pho tasted authentic aight! Okay, all the ones I had before were in Singapore so what do I know about authentic Pho? On a consoling note, mine was at least as authentic as the ones in Singapore. One tip though, never omit coriander and spring onions for Pho as both garnishes complete the whole Pho experience. It would be quite a shame if one is not a fan of them. Also red chilli padies are a must, that goes without saying. Total bliss while slurping my lovely broth thereafter. Mr R has only praises for me. Hehe..

However, all that simmering yielded only 3 servings of soup unfortunately. Thereby, dashing my hopes of having Pho for the next few days. I need a bigger pot for all them bones and soup!

A Prawns Affaire

After watching Anthony Bourdain slurping our Prawn Mee in Singapore, I've been craving for the divine orangey shrimpy soup ever since. 2 weeks ago, I finally made my attempt in brewing this soup concoction. Almost all the recipes I've researched on, called for loads of prawn heads and shells. That requires plenty of time and naturally tons of patience, which was rather thin especially in my craving moment. Luckily, I had the foresight of keeping a pack of such shells and heads months back, just for emergency like sudden cravings. Obviously that little pack wouldn't make for a great shrimpy broth. But as luck would have it, my decision for having a reunion dinner somehow helped in making my prawn mee dream come true. I had to use almost 2kg of prawns for the Ngoh Hiang. That's where I got my supply of heads and shells!!! Wasting no time, I gathered the rest of the ingredients and set about simmering the broth. The only ingredient missing was Kang Kong. Even in the asian shops here, we do not have the luxury of having a wide variety of chinese vegetables everyday like in Singapore, let alone the usual supermarkets.

Anyhow, in no time, the whole apartment was filled with an aroma of herbs and prawns. After spending half a day in the kitchen (okay, I am a slow worker when it comes to cooking), I finally sat down with Mr R and enjoyed my fruit of labour. My first sip of the broth brought a satisfying smile on my face. As I continued eating, my grin got wider. I have to let in, it cannot be compared to the ones sold in the hawker centres. Even so, it was good enough for me. If it's good enough for me, it's good enough for Mr R.

Prawn Mee

So, I have changed my mind and decided to post some pictures on my blog. Indeed a blog does appear more interesting with pictures which add colours and liven up an otherwise lacklustre page. It would be too dull with just text and text, wouldn't it? Oh well, the female species are afterall fickle creatures. They are entitled to change their minds every so often, aren't they?

Dong Dong Qiang

Chinese New Year celebrations in the Western world and in Eastern and Southeastern Asia are as different as day and night. Especially in this area where only a relatively small chinese community exists. No CNY goodies, no ang baos (phew!), no public holidays, no relative visitings, no gambling sessions and most of all, nobody rushes to shop for new clothes. Even so, I am not put off by the nonchalant surrounding me. I resovled to have my CNY celebrations in little possible ways. I, therefore, planned a menu for our reunion dinner with Mr and Mrs R Senior. And the mandarin oranges on our coffee table are as far as we can get in terms of decorations to mark the new year. I have never cared much for those unattractive red and gold deco anyways.

Two days of slogging away in the kitchen, marinating, hacking, simmering, I pulled off the feat of serving my hungry guests on time. Something which I never appreciated when my mum does the exact same thing for us each year. Being the lazy pig and undutiful daughter that I am, the furthest I went to help her was setting the table and washing up after. I have never taken an interest in learning her cooking skills and have never given a serious thought of the hard work she puts in so we can have our yummy and sumptuous reunion dinners all these years. Baad baad girl. I deserve a spanking.

Well, it is never too late to repent. At least on the learning to cook part. Guided by my mum's tips, my guests and Mr R were able to relish Braised Duck, Ngoh Hiang, Chilli Prawns, Roast Pork, Bak Kut Teh (okay, this is not very CNY) and Stir-Fried Snow Peas. It may sound simple and not much a big deal but trust me, the work one goes through to churn them out is exhausting. By the time we drank our coffee, I was totally beat. Though I don't regret it one bit. I am pleased and proud that I carry on some part of this tradition. You can call me a true cheena at heart.

No relative visitings tomorrow. However, not contended with staying at home on Chu Yi (the first day of CNY) , I am hooking up with a Singaporean friend in the city to... to... to buy new clothes for the new year, what else!

新年快乐!!!

No Reservations

Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations will be on TV tonight. His destination this time is Singapore, so we were informed by a friend. I enjoy his culinary globe-trotting escapades immensely. Back then in Singapore, I would tune in to his programs religiously. He is one dare-devil because he eats EVERYTHING. Everything here means warthog anus, sheep testicles, ant eggs, a raw seal eyeball, fetal ducks egg, cobra's heart etc. Nothing fazes him.

So I was curious what food he would be sampling in Singapore. And on top of it all I do crave to see my home country again, even if only fleeting glimpses of its comings and goings. Plus Mr R finds Bourdain interesting and entertaining too. Thus we tuned in to his show. Big Mistake.

What do you do when:
Chicken rice
Bak chor mee
Prawn mee
Satay
Prata
Chilli crabs
Char kway teow
Roast pork
Carrot cake
appeared right before your eyes, yet you DO NOT get to eat them? I resorted to salivating. And then more drooling. It was agonizing watching him devouring the food, I must concede. The show ended with me feeling empty and HUNGRY.

I miss home.

Benumbed

Try standing in the cold for nearly 3 hours. Even with four layers of clothes, leggings, wool pants, wool socks and boots. 1 hour later, I couldn't feel my feet anymore, let alone immerse myself in the carnival spirit around me. Yes, it is that time of the year again for the german carnival. Though they couldn't have picked a better time. February, right smack in the middle of winter!

When it was all over and we had to walk back to our cars, my feet were all numb and weak. It's as if my body could not command and coordinate my feet anymore. I was walking with a block of numbness underneath me. Without a doubt, it was uncomfortable. I cursed silently why I bothered coming. Forget that I came up with the brilliant idea of going to the official carnival and supposedly the best one in Cologne next year. Well, unless I get to dress up as a bear. Fur keeps you warm. Paws not included. And no pictures please.

The Great Hallucinator

2 years ago, I met 2 au pairs from America in my german class. I was really glad to have found someone who could converse with me in English. My german then was still half-past six. Later I noticed with a tinge of irritation that in typical American fashion, the 2 teenage girls love to brag. They bragged about how huge their houses in Texas are and how their parents let them have the biggest room in the house.

After class one day we were having a lunch buffet at some chinese restaurant (it sucks, by the way) and we came upon the topic of what they wore the night before when they were out partying. One of them said: 'I had this white simple top on and I looked amazing. Whereas on Hoonie, it would look totally normal.' Err... where did that come from? I was just sitting there, eating my lunch, listening in on their conversation and minding my own business when I got lashed out at for no apparent reason!!! Oh yeah, boobs and fats do go together. Talk about blind self-confidence. Just look at the various crappy reality shows on MTV, like Date my Mum, Next, Exposure, Room Raiders etc. The kids are often gushing over how hot they are and how they resemble certain celebs. They simply love themselves, often urging on by their equally blind parents. I bet they have never had a good look at themselves in the mirror before. Okay, perhaps I am a little harsh here and I am stereo-typing. Surely not all Americans are like that. Just like not all Singaporeans are kiasu.

Anyways, one day our teacher kindly offered to lend us her exam material to practise at home. Unfortunately, she only had it in cassette form. Which posed a problem for me because I do not have a cassette player. She then very sweetly lended me her portable cassette player.

One of the au pairs turned to me and asked, 'How can you not have a cassette player?'
Me, looked at her incredulously, retorted, 'Who uses cassettes nowadays?'
She went all silent.

Oh yes, the big great American nation where they sell millions of iPods while some of its people are still stuck in stone age using cassettes and stuck in their big fat ego. I wouldn't be surprised at all if I were asked where Singapore is. Because to them, America is the world itself.

Here I am, dissing the Americans while moments later you would find me going ga-ga over some American actors and having no intentions whatsoever in letting up on chasing the most popular series in America. Story of my life: full of conflicts.

Milo

I like Milo. Milo was even in my dreams nights ago. No, not the nestle drink Milo which brings out the champion in you but the actor who is supposed to save the cheerleader, save the world. Yup, that Peter Petrelli in Heroes. I must have had an overdosage of special abilities when he came into my dreams. I was his chick (move over, Wentworth!) and he would give up his life just to protect me and I got to kiss him :))) Think Hayden Panettiere. Then the scene changed and I was his niece. Think Claire Bennet. In reality, I am Claire Bennet herself on Facebook's Which Heroes Character Are You. I HEAL.... Oh dear, I eat, drink, breathe, live Heroes these days.

I woke up from that dream and grinned sheepishly at the bizarreness of it. Which reminds me of another dream I had years ago. This time I was Andy Lau's chick which baffles me till this day because I am never a big fan of his. Anyhow, I got to make out with him in the dream. Lucky me huh? Then it got me thinking, do dreams hold any significance at all? Dreams can be so real at times that they can't be just there without a reason.

According to the father of psychology, Sigmund Freud: ....they (dreams) are not meaningless, not absurd, they do not imply that one portion of our stockpile of ideas sleeps while another begins to awaken. They are a completely valid psychological phenomenon, specifically the fulfillment of wishes; ....there is a psychological technique which makes it possible to interpret dreams, and that on the application of this technique, every dream will reveal itself as a psychological structure, full of significance, and one which may be assigned to a specific place in the psychic activities of the waking state. Further, I shall endeavour to elucidate the processes which underlie the strangeness and obscurity of dreams, and to deduce from these processes the nature of the psychic forces whose conflict or co-operation is responsible for our dreams.

Unfortunately in my case, Freud did not have any interpretations of dreams which feature celebrities. Guess there wasn't any overexposure of celebrities in that era. So I do what I do best, I googled. And this is what I found:

To see a celebrity in your dream, represents your beliefs and understanding about him or her. Something in your waking life has triggered these similar beliefs and feelings. It is not uncommon that your obsession with a certain celebrity may carry over onto your dream world. Celebrities are often seen as heroes and all that is mighty.

To see an actor or actress in your dream, represents your pursuit for pleasure. Your admiration of a particular celebrity may lead to a desire to have some of their physical or personality traits (good looks?). Consider also who this actor/actress is and what characteristics your associate him/her with (special abilities like flying, reading minds, paint the future?). These may be the same characteristics that you need to acknowledge or incorporate into yourself.

To see a particular actor or actress in your dream, look at the role they are playing. Even though you may not know them on a personal level, how you perceive them or the characters they play can provide understanding in how it relates to you (be a hero myself?).

Hmmm... It's clear to see through these interpretations, Freud was right after all. My dream is trying to tell me what my wish-fulfillment is: I want to be a hero. Move over Sylar, I want their abilities for myself.

My Rant

I did Roti John and Sweet Potato Soup today. No pictures to show for them because I do not have the habit of taking pictures of my food, despite friends' constant requests of them on my blog. Indeed a picture speaks a thousand words. But perhaps I am a stick in the mud. Right now I am contended with just waxing my lyrical in words over here.

Anyway, back to food. What's a Singaporean without his/her food? Yes I did Roti John and Sweet Potato Soup. Not that they are such a challenge to make. The receipes are really simple. If I can churn this out, anyone can. I am in need of a change. I am simply sick of all the usual stuffs I whip up day in day out. It doesn't help that my german classes are now in the evenings, starting from 6pm. Which means dinner has to be ready for Mr R before I rush to the lessons. Nothing beats the easy fried noodles/rice which he can warm up himself when he reaches home. Either my creativity is going through a dry spell or it is that limited because there is only so much usual/spicy fried noodles/rice, mee/nasi goreng, dry mee siam, hokkien mee (I cheat lah, I use Prima Taste) etc. one can put up with before one goes retching upon hearing the words 'Fried Rice/Noodles'. Not that he demands his dinner has to be on the table when he gets home. Don't he ever dare! Being a bummer aside, I am afterall in the role of a housewife now. I have to bloody do my job in keeping the household in order and make sure that warm (an absolute must for me!) and edible food is on the table, don't I?

Perhaps I am just bored. Hence I look for an outlet to vent my boredom. And cooking is in fact quite effective in that aspect. Not to mention the self-satisfaction when a dish turns out well. Err, okay, my only critic is Mr R himself. And taste is often very subjective. And especially an ang moh one. Oh well..

I was asked many a times why I wish to work. Besides killing time, improving my spoken german and earning some moolah for myself, I want to feel needed in this Society again. It sucks to wake up every morning in your bed without having a purpose to look forward to. There is a sense of redundancy all the time. Even though I am in a family unit where Society considers me playing a major and important role in it, either by procreating or forming an economically productive household, I do not feel that important. Not in the very least. Why? Just because I am not making important/major deals or decisions at work like before? No, I don't think so. Having a job means I will be back in the social network again. Which also means I have a life of my own, rather than one that revolves just around Mr R. The institution of marriage does not restrain personal growth now, does it?

What's more, no man is an island. No matter how much I deemed myself to be quite an anti-social, at times I do require certain amount of social interaction (other than Mr R's), be it friends, classmates or even neighbours to keep myself sane. At my convenience, of course.

Then there are those advices which I received. One good one is I should have a baby to keep me busy and also because, they stressed again and again, I am not getting any younger. Digressing a bit, I seem to be receiving endless advices these days even when I DID NOT ask for them. Some people are just so fond of giving their 2 cents that they forget people just want to talk about their problems without needing a solution sometimes? Whatever happens to 'learn to listen'?

Okay, back to planting seeds. I have no objections to having a baby though I do not know when. And I am not gonna rush myself in getting huge and heavy, with puffy legs and no bikinis for 9 months just because I want to keep myself busy. Such wrong reason to bring a child to this world! Thanks but no thanks.

For now, I will just rot in my boredom. Short term solution: go shopping on Saturday to burn a big hole in Mr R's pocket. Retail therapy always works.

Vere Iz Da Storn?

I almost laughed my ass off my chair while watching the movie, Snatch, years ago. A wicked film with its dry english humour and witty lines. Doubtless one of those comedies which I can watch over and over again and still get me cracking up without fail.

Here are some of my favourite lines:
*Warning: It's gonna bore you silly if you are not a Snatch fan*

Turkish: Fuck me, hold tight. What's that?
Tommy: It's me belt, Turkish.
Turkish: No, Tommy. There's a gun in your trousers. What's a gun doing in your trousers?
Tommy: It's for protection.
Turkish: Proctection from what? 'Zee German'?

Turkish: What's happening with them sausages, Charlie?
Sausage Charlie: Five minutes, Turkish.
Turkish: It was two minutes five minutes ago.

Policeman: So, what you doin here?
Turkish: I'm taking the dog for a walk. What's the problem?
Policeman: What's in the car?
Turkish: Seats and a steering wheel.

[while robbing the bookies]
Sol: Are you all right there Vincent?
Vinny: I would be if you stopped using my name.

Vinny: What the fuck do you mean, replicas?
Sol: They look the shit, don't they? And nobody is gonna argue. And I've got some extra loud blanks, just in case.
Vinny: In... Oh, in case we have to deafen them to death?

Avi: Should I call you Bullet? Tooth?
Bullet Tooth Tony: You can call me Susan if it makes you happy.

Avi: Eighty-six carats.
Rosebud: Where?
Avi: London.
Rosebud: London?
Avi: London.
Avi's Colleague: London?
Avi: Yes, London. You know: fish, chips, cup 'o tea, bad food, worse weather, Mary fucking Poppins... LONDON.

Bullet Tooth Tony: A bookie's got blagged last night.
Avi: Blagged? Speak English to me, Tony. I thought this country spawned the fucking language, and so far nobody seems to speak it.

Customs official: Anything to declare?
Avi: Yeah. Don't go to England.

Vinny: Why are we stopped here? What's wrong with that spot?
Tyrone: It's too tight.
Vinny: Too tight? You could land a jumbo fucking jet in that.

[Tyrone just backed into Franky Four Fingers' van]
Tyrone: I didn't see it there.
Vinny: It's a four ton truck, Tyrone. Its not as if it's a bag of fucking peanuts, is it?
Tyrone: It was a funny angle.
[All three turn and look back at the truck]
Vinny: It's behind you Tyrone. Whenever you reverse, things come from behind you.

Sol: He's a natural, ain't you Tyrone?
Tyrone: 'course I am... [reverses into parked van]
Vinny: A natural fucking idiot.