the roads are getting nearer

Saturday, September 30, 2006

` Saturday, September 30, 2006

Back to Sydney

Back in Sydney for the 4th or 5th time. To be honest, I think I'm starting to lose track of time. Of where, when, how or why I've been to which country. But it no longer matters.

Hanging out with my fresh-out-of-London-great-to-be-in-Sydney colleague has re-introduced me to the city itself. No matter how many times I've been here, everything seemed to have had a fresh twist to it. Take for example how I didn't realise there was a cinema right next to the Sydney Opera House. Or that Manly beach was a 25-minute ferry ride away and how a stretch of beach could look so unfamiliar, despite me pondering about life over a kebab on a boardwalk bench on the same spot 3 years back. Or that you could actually get funky bronzed New Look shoes at Payless for a fraction of what it would cost back in London.

I've also been re-initiated into the wondrous food culture over here. Tiramisu never tasted that heavenly until we visited Baia at Darling Harbour. Fusion meals have been done with utmost respect to the cuisines they have attempted to blend together effortlessly. It is almost near impossible to find crap-tasting bites. Well, at least we've been lucky to date.

It's good that I'm starting to sit back and enjoy life a bit more than ever before. I haven't blogged about the memorable trip to one of the 7 man-made wonders of the world as yet. I guess the good times do override the bad ones at this point in time.

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Sunday, September 10, 2006

` Sunday, September 10, 2006

SIGH.

I've gotten over my weekly SI obsession.
Primarily because the lovable young hairy one had been voted off this week.
My reckless voting of 2.5 plates of chicken rice equivalent didn't help him pull through.
Don't ask me why I've just thrown some good money down the MCS drain.

All I can say is, I wished I was back in school chasing after self-created idols.
Joining fanclubs and getting all excited about nothing.

Despite having to sit through boring classes and finishing up crappy school homework,
I recall the days of waking up for school in the wee mornings,
Just to rant and rave about footballers and Hong Kong Heavenly Kings.
Everyone had their own little fascination, tacky posters and paraphrenalia.
Some of us even shed tears seeing them up close and personal.
Getting autographs probably outweighed the happiness of scoring above 75% grades.

Those were the days.

Now, I have to mask my insipid immaturity and react like a 28-year-old.
Idol-worshipping should stop after the teeny years.
Back to schloppy stanky work and its boring weekends.

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` Sunday, September 10, 2006

Woot.Woot.

In Bangalore, garden city of India.
Three weeks of business travel. Again (and again and again and again).
This is deja vu times five.
My passport has been flooded with India visas.
Everything feels way too familiar.
My colleagues wonder if I'm on commission at the local bedlinen store.
I'm dining on a first-name basis at a local mod-ish hotel cafe.
I could actually point out which dish had been missing at the Leela Palace lunch buffet.
I've seen less familiar faces in the office than in April this year or last.
I read Indian Cosmo like it's 8 Days back home.
I bargain with tuktuk drivers on a difference of 10 rupees like a jaded local.
I need help.
Woot.Woot.

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