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We are apartment hunters
Seduced by scenic views and storage space.
We open cupboards and doors while the owners are out
Pretending these walls
This carpet
This ceiling
These bathroom fixtures
This freaking lack of storage space is ours forever and ever.
Should the TV go here, we wonder
Or there?
Or maybe even there?
Does it fit in this freaking small room at all, we say
Or I say, since Mum doesn't say freaking
But I do, and often, because it isn't as harsh as another effective word.
This photo would make a nice but sombre desktop wallpaper, don't you think?
Jan and I hit Bavarian Bier Cafe for a post-work (for her), after sunset (for me) drink tonight. We ordered the chips and the chicken schnitzel bites. Both were really delicious. The beer was great. The space is nice and fancy, lots of dark wood and flattering lighting. Music was erratic and way too loud though. Must go back and try the restaurant food one night. It's good to see casual yet also upscale places like this in Sydney that serve tasty food too.
I hate to say it, but I have to admit: unemployment agrees with me. It gives me bonding time with my doona (or "comforter" for the Americans), the flexibility to do nothing all day except make French toast and eat kiwifruit, the luxury to surf the web and call it jobhunting, and most important of all, the vast expanse of my own indefinite future to dream about my next great job. (Breaking news: Landor in Sydney doesn't have any positions open.)
The real estate agent came by this afternoon with two groups of homebuyers, so I scooted out of the house lest they see my unemployed face. I went to Harris Farm to buy vegetables for a delicious pasta sauce, to McDonalds to eat an apple pie and kill some time, then I headed to Borders. I flipped through Esquire; a newish Martha Stewart publication called Blueprint (what a great looking magazine); and then I picked up Travel+Leisure (US Edition). Big mistake. Reading a great magazine always makes me want to do three things: 1) work at that magazine, 2) write for that magazine, and worst of all, 3) buy that magazine. So I put T+L down, slowly backed out of Borders and came back home and settled for 4) visit the magazine's website.
Heading out to the city later to meet Jan. She's going shopping. I'm acting as her stylist. Hehe, what a funny I just made.
About this photo: Took this one in Rome on a hot, heatwavey day. 2003 as usual.
I ate at Makoto sushi train with Mum and Helen's mum tonight. (Incidentally I ate there with Janice and her mum last week too.) We got there pretty early at 6:10pm but the place was already packed out. Had to wait 10 minutes. I tell you, people on the North Shore are crazy for good sushi.
This is uni nigiri. Either you love it or you hate it. Personally, I love it. For my grandma though, it's a once in a lifetime experience. When you ask her if she'd like one, her response is always, "I tried it once a few years ago at Christmas. That was enough."
Hello, this is my new friend, the Unwired wireless modem. It sits on the window, looking out into the yard, making friends with birds that fly by, waving to my neighbours, happily plugged into the power socket and attached to my laptop through an umbilical cord. I turn my computer in the mornings (oh, who am I kidding?) and zap! I'm online. It's crazy. I bought the damn thing at Harvey Norman. It cost A$189, and it came with a 14-day money-back guarantee. There's no contract, the rates make sense and no one, I repeat, no one had to come by to install or do anything to get it set up. And hence, no connection fee. It defies all logic, really. I predict one day, when their suburban coverage is tighter, Unwired is going to take over the Sydney broadband service market.
During my exchange year in France in 2003, I wrote my second term paper on the triangle of streets in the 13th arrondissement known as the "Chinatown of Paris". Towards the end of my stay there, while winter was in full swing, I made frequent trips to the Tang Freres supermarket in the 13th, catching the suburban train then snaking through the metro lines to source hotpot ingredients such as soft tofu, Chinese cabbage, Japanese mushrooms and udon noodles. With the commute clocking just over three hours there and back, my lazy side always found unnaturally huge heads of cabbage to buy; so big they never fit in my backpack and had to be taken back to campus cradled in my arms.
The unique thing about the Chinatown in Paris is it's so different from its cousins in Sydney, San Francisco and New York City. It was developed during the late 70s/early 80s by Vietnamese "boat people" migrants who only labeled the area "Chinatown" to market it as an inviting ethnic enclave to mainstream Parisians. With these humble beginnings, the area doesn't bear much resemblance to its international counterparts. No regal Cantonese yum cha (dim sum) restaurants and no flashy Asian supermarkets.
The closest thing is the Tang Freres chain, which imports goods for the Asian population and is the largest Asian supermarket in France. The stores and an adjoining bakery are housed inside
warehouse-style buildings with unassuming store signs painted in red. No electric signs here.
While much of the area surrounding the Triangle can be described as a concrete wonderland, the community vibe is still strong, especially on warm days when the wide, tree-lined sidewalks and park benches really got happening.
Ironically, the local McDonalds is the only building with a hint of Asian architecture.
And the end result! My vegetarian hotpots not only helped keep me warm in the cold weather but also fought off homesickness. It doesn't look like much, but it was the only "Chinese" dish I was able to make European friends. Oh, the shame. Yeah, I know, I know, it's just boiling.
And that's the end of the slideshow...
Postscript: I spent ages tonight writing this up, resizing photos, uploading photos and other blog stuff you don't give a crap about. And then when I went to post the damn thing, Typepad crashed! I was so freaking peed off I had to go drink a hot chocolate and watch an episode of Queer Eye. Then I came back and rewrote the post like a good blogger. Damn you, Typepad!
I'd wanted -- and failed -- to write a list of all the things I'd miss about Taipei while I was still in Taipei in case I missed them so much by the time I arrived in Sydney that I forgot about them altogether. So this list probably isn't as long as it should be. And to be honest, I'm sitting here looking out the window from the second floor of our house and there's so much freaking space and sky and trees that I can't even remember what I had for breakfast. Wait, I didn't wake up in time to have breakfast. I had a dunch. Dinner lunch. But everything gets lost in the air over here. You take a breath and look around and you forget what you were about to say. For instance, I rolled the wrong garbage bin down to the curb the other night because I was so distracted by how big and round and shiny the moon was. We have four garbage bins, if you can believe it. A grey one for real garbage. A green one for garden waste. A green one with a yellow lid for recyclable paper. And a brown bin for recyclable bottles and plastics. My eyes had noted and my brain successfully registered that all our neighbours had rolled their grey and green bins out, yet that freaking moon...damn that freaking moon! I rolled down the paper bin instead. Woops, excuse my brain lapse. Let me get started on that list:
Foods I will miss and dream about:
Dou hua from Little South Door
States chips with honey mustard sauce (easily the best chips in Taipei)
Pig's blood on a stick from the night market (wow, it sounds so disgusting!)
Mos Burger
Cream puffs from Beard Papa (original flavour)
Wontons and Dan Dan noodles from the Zhong Xiao wonton stand
Taiwanese spring rolls (ren bing) from Ao Ba on Xinyi/An He (dude, they come out warm!)
Tonkatsu sandwiches from the alley off Yong Kang St
Cello Pasta meat sauce spaghetti (the original and the best)
Baby spinach and cheese gorganzola pizza from Cafe Grazie
Beef noodle soup from Ten Ren Tea House on Dun Hua (my takehome dinner of choice)
5-Pack Yakult from the supermarket or Family Mart for NT$30
Calpis drinks (I don't know what it's made of, but it tastes bloody great)
La Gauche de la Seine iced tea and coffees
Dammit, the beverage selection at any Taipei convenience store!
Now I'm sad. And thirsty.
Photo breakdown: Being back in Sydney, I've got access to a year of photos from my nomadic days in Europe to put on the blog. I was very stupid and foolish back then. I didn't save photos in a big size. In fact, I took photos at the lowest size setting in case I ran out of memory space -- idiot! So I can't print out enlargements, but at least now I can put them on this blog. Three years later. Horray.
I took the above photo in Dublin, Ireland on September 14, 2003. And here's one of Derry, in Northern Ireland, from the same trip.
Ben Folds has been a permanent resident of my MP3 player ever since Everett burned me a copy of Songs for Silverman last year. Tonight, I watched, listened, smiled and clapped through his concert at the Opera House, where he played a black grand piano and was accompanied by the 90-piece Sydney Symphony Orchestra (complete with harp player). He was wearing shoes that looked strangely familiar because they were the exact same ones as I was wearing. Black Asics. Gold trim. It's funny to hear the music I've been listening to for more than a year, on the way to work, on the way home, on buses, on planes and at the gym (yes, I'm so mellow that I listen to Ben Folds while working out); music I've listened to while thinking of certain people, jerks, places and my own random, meaningless crap; happening live and less than 20 meters away (thanks to Janice booking excellent seats in the center of the 8th or 9th row.) And to sit in a magnificent room like the one in the above picture while it all took place, I can only describe it as a little emotional. (And no, not in the sappy girly sense. Just in the "it made me feel some emotions" sense.)
Here is an extract to the lyrics of my favorite BF song. It's probably an apt choice considering my frequent flyer history.
"Landed"
Til I opened my eyes and walked out the door
And the clouds came tumbling down
And it's bye-bye, goodbye I tried
And I twisted it wrong
Just to make it right
Had to leave myself behind
And I've been flying high all night
So come pick me up
I've landed
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