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Dear Amsterdam

I have made a decision to not obsess about you for the next few weeks.

That means no apartment hunting, no memorizing of city maps and neighborhoods, no reviewing the little I know of how to pronounce words in your language.

That means curbing my lustful fantasies about toasty fires in white snowy winters, long walks in your Vondelpark amidst a shower of falling autumn leaves (ting alert!), hopping on a weekend train to practically anywhere in Europe from the wonder of a transport hub you call Schiphol, your large-windowed Art Deco apartments, your damnably delectable stroopwafels

*Cough* Curbed! These lustful fantasies are curbed, I say!

I really panicked this week and thought we were about to enter into a long-term relationship within the next three months. The erratic spikes in my heart rate have not been healthy (and you know I’m all about the healthy now, what with all this biking and running that I have been attempting).

So until I have a better idea of the life you have to offer me (aside from the opportunity to finally try pot for the first time at the ripe old age of 28), we’ll just have to file away our relationship as that ridiculously brilliant high school invention known as a cool-off.

Get back to me when you have something good. Okay?

Love,
Currystrumpet

P.S. My husband might be another story. You might want to have a word with him in private.

Barong answer

Lah-lah Land may have many wonderful things, but one random thing that they seem to be missing over here is the concept of indigenous fabric. Ang hirap talaga kapag wala kang natural resources.

Today, Marlon brought his barong Tagalog to the dry cleaners for the first time since we arrived in Singapore.

The dry cleaner recoiled in horror.

Wah liao! This one confirm cannot clean. So old already leh. Fabric so thin one. Look, got so many holes already. And very yellow lor! This one ah, you give me very hard time, cannot make white for you.

Auntie, parang silk lang yan. I don’t know what Marlon had to say to make them take the barong and not wreck it by turning it bright, gleaming white, but after much prodding they agreed to take it.

Sigh lah.

Girl about town

After my initial two days of sloth last week, suddenly I was all over the place!

At Robertson Quay living up to my new identity as a “lady who lunches” with K and Bianca…

Walking down to the colorful, iconic MICA Building at Clarke Quay to pay for a writing workshop organized by the National Arts Council (which I ended up not waking up for!)…

Renewing my library card and stocking up on books (Gordon Ramsay’s Fast Food! Time Out Beijing! Lonely Planet San Francisco!) at the National Library…

Dashing back to Robertson Quay to judge a kiddie singing contest (!!!)…

The Alkaff Bridge at Robertson Quay, painted by our very own Pacita Abad
Semifinalists in the 4 to 6 year-old category… so cute!

Filing my taxes for the very first time at the Inland Revenue Authority in Novena (a government experience whose efficiency deserves a post in itself!)…

Skipping back to the office to attend a client presentation with one huge difference — I get to bill the company per hour of my presence!

The poor dears seem to be cracking up without me… I keed, I keed

Heading into glass skyscraper country, dodging secretaries in cocktail dresses (nobody knows the difference between day vs. night dressing around here) and expat investment bankers…

… to visit Lilian and James’ new office in Boat Quay! It’s on the top floor of a shophouse, which explains the high, steeply pitched ceiling and exposed beams. Very cool. 
Hanging around for two hours (two hours! Why is it that only Pinoys are capable of being this late? Nobody I know here in Singapore has ever been that late!) at Lau Pa Sat waiting for my fellow Kapusos. 

Flor and Ian, an artist and writer, respectively, from my old department now work here, and we never get to meet up! Finally we had a reason to: the arrival of Cecil, our beloved nutty mother figure who was in town visiting her daughter, an intern at the Ritz. 
Finally winding down the week with a show at the Esplanade: Chicago! (And all that jazz…)

I couldn’t take any photos of the show, so here’s a picture of Marlon in this cool bamboo installation on the Esplanade grounds instead.
What a week! Busing and walking around in the scorching heat left me completely shacked… but shacked in a good way, without any pressure or stress. Despite the heat and humidity, there was an underlying sense of freedom that just gave me a really good burst of energy and powered me through the week.
This week I’m looking forward to establishing more of a routine for myself, one that includes exercise, writing (I can’t completely not work!), flamenco and my domestic duties of cooking, grocery shopping and cleaning. 
Now if I could only start waking up before 10 a.m…. 

Summertime

… and the living is easy.

The first few days of my return to the couchwife life have found me taking it very, very easy. I rolled out of bed at noon on my first non-working Monday, snacked on leftovers while catching up on my stockpile of Gossip Girl episodes, and did a lot of surfing.

Having failed at my attempt to get up early and cook my husband breakfast, I compensated by having dinner up and running by the time he got home — grilled cinnamon and ginger chicken with couscous salad. I can’t remember the last time I did that and it felt wonderful to be wifely again.

Yesterday I swam a few laps at our condo’s bleached-hot, deserted swimming pool. Then I did the groceries, whereupon I found that the deserted supermarket aisles do wonders to alleviate the usual “supermarket-cart rage” that comes upon me on Sunday evenings at Fairprice. In the evening I met up with Bianca and Chi to help Chi put together his Miss Greece costume for a Miss Gay Universe pageant on Saturday. Craziness!

I’m at home and really feeling like it’s summer, what with these long, lazy and unbelievably hot days. I quickly learned that one of the upsides to working full-time is having the aircon on 24/7 at full blast, and not having to pay for it. Still, as I putter around in a constant sheen of sweat, I am almost giddy with gratitude at being home to experience a summer vacation for the first time since graduating from college.

On this summer vacation, I am both child and parent. I’m finding things to fill my own days — overseas trips, exercise, lunches, visits from friends, doctor’s appointments (hello Mommy!) errands and cleaning sprees. My supposed holiday is turning out busier than I expected, but I can’t complain when I see the neat little boxes in my iCal filled entirely with things I want and choose to do.

It’s a big change from the couchwife life of two years ago, when I had just moved here and was still trying to find work. We’re financially in a better position to fund my “summer vacation”, so I don’t feel so guilty about leaving the house and doing things like having lunch with friends or buying tickets to shows I would like to see. There are freelance clients — not to mention new skills and a level of confidence — I have now that I didn’t two years ago.

All in all it’s shaping up to be a good summer. Now if only it wasn’t quite so hot…

Restless

Remember il ya from Philo 101? Metaphysical unease: I find myself in that state these days.

It’s manifesting as a form of the Seven-Year Itch. It’s got nothing to do with my marriage (which is what the Seven-Year Itch supposedly is), but with an itch to move on from Singapore. A Three-Year Itch, maybe?

I’m starting my third year here, and our friend Tinus (who lived here for six years before moving to New York, and just moved back) told me that it was about his third year that he seriously started rattling the bars of his cushy, manicured, tropical cage.

Or it could just be wanderlust. I find myself raring to move on to the next phase of my life, which not only means leaving Singapore but also starting a family. Yet I feel the compulsion to have one big adventure, a “last hurrah” before I have a baby and am thus unable (and from what I hear about parenting, unwilling) to travel for a long time. So, I spend an inordinate amount of time looking up hotels and flights and hostels and travel guides. I find myself increasingly unsatisfied at the thought of mini-breaks and weekend getaways, and am hankering for some long-term immersive travel.

Unfortunately, Marlon and I are at different stages in our lives. I’ve just quit my job and am free as a bird, crazed with the prospect of freedom and time, while he just started a new role at work and has yet to make his mark. So while both of us love the idea of long-term travel, the reality is that we’re stuck here for a while. And those mini-breaks and weekend getaways, which don’t appeal to me as much as they used to, will have to hold me in stead for at least six months to a year.

In the meantime, it’s fun to plan. So here I am looking up ryokan in Kyoto, hostels in Istanbul, day trips to Abu Simbel. As they say, libre ang mangarap.