tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47771330271399029742024-03-07T10:38:22.017+08:00Pickles n' Tickles by JJa blog about small things with big valueJJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.comBlogger176125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4777133027139902974.post-79039766491628807962024-02-28T12:58:00.002+08:002024-02-28T20:03:56.469+08:00Thy Word is a Lamp Unto my Sanity <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Writing my first post (and hopefully not the last) for the year with the announcement of an injury I’ve sustained on my right foot. Those who’ve been on this platform with me from the beginning would probably know (but why would you?) that I’ve had some pretty serious foot issues that may or may not have influenced the choices I’ve made in life. <div><br /></div><div>Last week, I braved myself and made that appointment with a podiatrist. I could tell he was a little pleased to have found himself a special case to deal with, away from his daily doses of ingrown nails and shin splints. My feet are undoubtedly far more exciting than those. A perfect case study. So perfect he asked if he could have a couple of podiatry students in the room to discuss my situation. But no. I wasn’t in the right headspace for that. </div><div><br /></div><div>Turns out that the band between the second and third toes are inflamed, impinging on some nerve in that area, causing a variety of localised pain. It also feels like I’m constantly walking on a pebble, and on rougher days, it just hurts throughout the night making me restless. Well, I’ve gone to see him just in time before the band snapped. Otherwise, it’ll be a surgery which will take a longer recovery time, and I can’t imagine spending the entire year of the dragon, hobbling around like an injured sheep. </div><div><br /></div><div>The podiatrist comes with a hopeful promise. That I’d heal and reset without a surgery. For that, I’ve to tape my toes down for three months, have an insole in all of my favourite shoes and work on my calves to bring about zen to my lower extremities. It’s a promise I value even if the outcome is still a surgery in the end. A positive outlook from a foot doctor goes a long way in deciding whether I’d be good or bad for the year. My mental health is tied to my feet and spoken words from doctors/ therapists is a lamp unto my sanity. The last time I saw a foot doctor, he told me to stop my active lifestyle (with no solution offered) simply because "you're not an athlete". You wouldn't want to know what life was for me after that! </div><div><br /></div><div>And that's why I find myself in a library today, writing, instead of let's just say, breaking bad. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHhC4OS1RB-viXhXZuW8wK-uImP-p8hfGNVrtymhffvCic1hRoZEcePdmGxRsoszN-OFT9kWW7MFnkc4GWXtCtnMfpSfpLm_cNvCCsBpEA3J6Nx0O2MpYG4Cmq75MJ2zXyjwtHYaI3sqR0Lm3Dig_u_n0b67a9OQdd-J7glf5Y-JUD02DzdSFd3o7NoRhx/s1080/WhatsApp%20Image%202024-02-28%20at%203.46.17%20PM.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="810" height="546" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHhC4OS1RB-viXhXZuW8wK-uImP-p8hfGNVrtymhffvCic1hRoZEcePdmGxRsoszN-OFT9kWW7MFnkc4GWXtCtnMfpSfpLm_cNvCCsBpEA3J6Nx0O2MpYG4Cmq75MJ2zXyjwtHYaI3sqR0Lm3Dig_u_n0b67a9OQdd-J7glf5Y-JUD02DzdSFd3o7NoRhx/w409-h546/WhatsApp%20Image%202024-02-28%20at%203.46.17%20PM.jpeg" width="409" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">State Library Victoria. It's beautiful in here. </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div>JJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4777133027139902974.post-69717429777573690232023-05-02T14:24:00.009+08:002023-05-03T22:48:16.655+08:00The Nightmare That Is Job Hunting <span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">In the midst of job applications, and I thought I'd detour since the laptop is already on my lap. It's just me procrastinating on the grownup things I <i>should</i> be doing like looking for jobs, making lunch, cleaning the balcony, combing my hair and decluttering the common shelf - yes, the dreaded hidden clutter and it's not even a year yet since we walked into this house with just three luggages. </span><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Do you know that I had applied for 155 jobs on LinkedIn alone </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">in the past 6 years</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">? Yet the two roles I held during the period were not from those applications. A whopping 155 applications and none materialised. Most employers don't even send rejection email - I don't know if that's kind or cruel but it sure is nice to get <i>some</i> form of feedback for the effort put into the tedious applications. Section</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> after section of information to fill in AFTER a resume upload along with a cover letter which already contains all of those info. Some applications even come with tests or extra questions to prove your eligibility for the job. Why? You're not even shortlisted yet. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I did get some enquiries from recruiters based on my profile but those weren't good for me. Or for them. Either I was experiencing a moment of high at work during the period that I was reluctant to leave, or a desperate company was just looking to replace someone who had left them high and dry in the middle of a mega project. The latter, I imagine, is the worst way to get employed. Think of the mess you have to clean up and they'd usually expect you to "hit the ground running", a phrase that should only be used to describe a paraglider landing. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I'm not a picky hunter. I love living too much to chase a high profile position. But I do like to have a job I love and do it well in a community of people I could learn from and with, and in the process drive a difference in one way or another <strike>while contributing to that facelift fund</strike>. Sure I may lack the experience needed in some of these jobs I've applied/ applying for but whatever happened to that need for a "resilient team-player with great interpersonal skills and an eye for detail who is also a quick learner". </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Hey, <i>that</i> is me. </span></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCQf_9qUIw6giFUtYxrArZbKNELF6N5EgMYASNoUzXX98ou4Ew5bgUvuDaKQFiZ0spQXNKAmWUbB2ojRBSchpnVjANQ2Q-wMfbeCxh81mCyIlHCRw9JP8iR06gcIiARd56ZJMG11erEAWGngKRnp6qxqi7da31QBthXnScafNmLZqJQB1Ex5gQHGtGKw/s1024/WhatsApp%20Image%202023-05-02%20at%204.08.39%20PM.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCQf_9qUIw6giFUtYxrArZbKNELF6N5EgMYASNoUzXX98ou4Ew5bgUvuDaKQFiZ0spQXNKAmWUbB2ojRBSchpnVjANQ2Q-wMfbeCxh81mCyIlHCRw9JP8iR06gcIiARd56ZJMG11erEAWGngKRnp6qxqi7da31QBthXnScafNmLZqJQB1Ex5gQHGtGKw/w450-h338/WhatsApp%20Image%202023-05-02%20at%204.08.39%20PM.jpeg" width="450" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Here is a recent picture of me living life in Queenstown. </span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div></div></div>JJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4777133027139902974.post-43106108622070758002023-03-04T18:00:00.002+08:002023-03-04T18:17:25.552+08:00Writing For Myself <span style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Apart from my politically correct IG captions - it those count - and utterly grey SEO-compliant content at work, I haven't written anything much for my inner child in a millennia. Don't know what I've been busy with but since my last post I've lost people, lived through a pandemic, ran a bake shop, worked with my hands, dabbled in B2B writing, and moved to another continent. In between these, I might have lost that perky voice I thought I had on here. The inner kid has retracted deep into her Cancerian shell, and now will you help me <strike>smoke</strike> coax her out? </span><div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #444444;">Lately, specifically in the last 4 years, I've been feeling detached from that side of me that writes. Sure, I've been distracted by life, but writing <i>for myself</i> has been an escapade ever since I could read. It began with a diary. Her name was Amanda. </span><span style="color: #444444;">She was a pretty hardcover</span><span style="color: #444444;"> in pink and pistachio with a golden lock on her. When unlocked with a matching golden key, her A5 pages came lined in pink. I'd fill her on the latest happenings of my life in blue ink with fat, beady handwriting. Since she also held my deepest thoughts, I placed her alongside my </span><span style="color: #444444;">coin bank amongst the clothes in my little wardrobe. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #444444;">Words on these pages offered me a sense of security and even a greater sense of freedom. A place to have my voice out, it doesn't matter if anyone heard them. A space to clear my head in the chaos of my words. I guess this took me to my vocation later in life as I ended up in media/publishing where I wrote for others. Even then, I retracted into my world of words, lost in the many diaries that followed Amanda. This blog also began as an outlet for my voice, to have some fun away from work, though on a public domain. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Fast forward to now, I'm not feeling it but I miss this; being here and sharing stuff I chose to share. So after a long morning walk yesterday, I took a peek into this space. Still here. Some old posts are cringeworthy for sure, but so are diary entries from mooooons back. It's also a record of how much I've grown and come into this person in her midlife. </span></div><div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Guess <i>that</i> scared off the inner child. Midlife! </span></div><div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1NDhHhOKlSOQf5uN6QZ3z6HjPNBkhMtvFJZUVVcRXkRwoxdfn3K96mK7m81ixeKlcizsM1AszSKtd66qY_ULyptXhDRdJMf_HGuSew5iXHA2nHPOA24twIAreQspJPjWtqt9NQf0bMRm9yOPZHRBL2-3aDqB4mIrsbW4-s3spoxZ-FiNpZYS083QEOw/s1024/WhatsApp%20Image%202023-03-04%20at%208.47.26%20PM.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1NDhHhOKlSOQf5uN6QZ3z6HjPNBkhMtvFJZUVVcRXkRwoxdfn3K96mK7m81ixeKlcizsM1AszSKtd66qY_ULyptXhDRdJMf_HGuSew5iXHA2nHPOA24twIAreQspJPjWtqt9NQf0bMRm9yOPZHRBL2-3aDqB4mIrsbW4-s3spoxZ-FiNpZYS083QEOw/w480-h640/WhatsApp%20Image%202023-03-04%20at%208.47.26%20PM.jpeg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A view from my morning walk</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div>JJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4777133027139902974.post-82850232079558286712020-04-22T18:29:00.001+08:002020-04-22T19:03:58.362+08:00Take Me Back to Christmas<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">Can we go back in time and stay at Christmas, please? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I did not step into 2020 thinking that I'd be returning to a financially troubled workplace after that long holiday, only to be offered a new position at a competitor's within the same month. I would then take that offer, watch all that drama unfold in the office while I serve my notice, hear about the emergence of the Wuhan virus, write about the first identified case in Malaysia, experience more shocking office drama; secretly relieved that I had a new workplace April onwards. Just for the record, there are a total of 5,532 confirmed cases in Malaysia as of today, with a total of 93 deaths. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">By mid March, the Malaysian government announced the Movement Control Order (MCO) - basically a lockdown, a law was drawn up and enforced to make sure that we stay at home, and flatten the Covid-19 curve, because by then, our numbers were driving up. A month from that, my new employer would cancel the legally-binding employment contract between us because the economy was taking a serious dive down the shithole. Which brings me here; to a situation where I'm left jobless, scrambling to secure a job within the next few months, at a time where half the world had been given a paycut, while the other half, I don't know, probably is as jobless as I am. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">All of the above within the first quarter of 2020! I wanted to do big things in 2020. We were planning the Kilimanjaro climb (a dream of mine) for October, but by March, seeing the situation around the world, we did not go ahead with the booking. Of course, there were other plans in between and before that, the status for which are still unknown. But my current worries are about the basics. How is it going to be for us? What will be our new normal? When will we recover? Or will we ever? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Can we ever go back to Christmas? </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dec 24, 2019<br />
Melbourne, Australia </td></tr>
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JJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4777133027139902974.post-10967355848294490262018-08-03T22:41:00.000+08:002018-08-03T22:44:15.313+08:00Do You Feel The Same? <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">I noticed that I'm only propelled to write when I'm unhappy, sad or desolate - basically whenever my heart is burdened by some of what life has thrown at me. That's one of the main reasons why I haven't been writing on here often in the recent years. I want to be remembered as this fresh-spirited, witty and uncomplicated narrator. But it's so hard to write about the jolly things in life when my mind is tangled up so much in a web of worries. </span><span style="font-size: large;">I don't want sappy tales of my life floating about in the world wide web long after I'm gone. And yet, I find myself most comfortable indulging in unhappiness. Or rather it's easier to relate to conflicts, physical pain and loss than to all the other things that I should be happy about. Does that make any sense to you? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Or is this mid-life crisis? </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT49mMUqDl9dK4CmA6cKv1AFAe5BU4f5Z0zj54pzNTDTSrOFpMzPTgoSWgJebsv2_m7TVloOT1gErNcUOMt2h6BzaVZeQxCN14pqRufr2lp7yOUeANLzsCheNZsIs1IouT9B5QG8FiwjYm/s1600/36369123_10155711358148364_1351368166416056320_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="779" data-original-width="960" height="516" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT49mMUqDl9dK4CmA6cKv1AFAe5BU4f5Z0zj54pzNTDTSrOFpMzPTgoSWgJebsv2_m7TVloOT1gErNcUOMt2h6BzaVZeQxCN14pqRufr2lp7yOUeANLzsCheNZsIs1IouT9B5QG8FiwjYm/s640/36369123_10155711358148364_1351368166416056320_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Turned a year older about a month ago, and got a visit from this old friend.</td></tr>
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JJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4777133027139902974.post-61416517232776178072018-05-30T02:52:00.000+08:002018-05-30T04:45:05.089+08:00Malaysia On 10 May 2018 <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I felt it in the air on the morning of May 10, 2018, I swear. The air felt fresher, the sky looked calmer, trees greener, and people, nicer. It was like a spell had been broken, and the evil forces, banished and put in their places, and good prevailed. I could breathe better. I sensed the jubilation in the quiet, morning atmosphere. The heaviness I felt in my heart the night before had vanished. Never did I imagine that I would live to experience that day and moment in history in <i>my </i>lifetime. And, so did every Malaysian who were on their knees and toes, doing all they could for this change of government to happen through the 14th general election on May 9. Truth to be told, I never doubted for a second that the opposition could take over. But...it's the <i>but</i> that bothered us too much because electoral fraud was a threat greater than your mother-in-law during the period. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I spoke to my family that morning. My mom was ecstatic on the phone. "Have you heard?". "Oh, I have". Dad was too. So were the others at home, and friends. We stayed in glued to the news channels for updates because this was unprecedented. The old government had been in power for over 60 years since the independence from the British in 1957. So, we didn't know what to expect next, or if the old prime minister would even concede and if there would be riots or martial law in place. Tension started to build up again. Then at midday, the former prime minister conceded, and we breathed again in relief. Now, the new prime minister - when was he going to be sworn in? This was tricky because the man was a former PM (in office from 1981 - 2003) who went into retirement, and returned in recent years as an opposition with a mission to save the country from the depth of debt and corruption. The pre-election plan was for him to be the PM if the opposition won. And, so we waited. We caught on online news sites that he was already at the Royal Palace for the ceremony which was scheduled for 5pm. Two hours later, there was still no news. Then, it was 9pm - the country was growling in suspense, questioning why. It shouldn't take that long for a ceremony. Finally at about 10pm, the cameras shifted and zoomed into the ceremonial venue, and we watched it as it all happened. Nine-two year-old Tun Dr. Mahathir Mohamad was rightfully sworn in as the seventh prime minister of Malaysia - and in that moment, the Malaysian social media platforms burst into one, massive celebratory podium at a scale I've never experienced before. I still get goosebumps from reliving that moment and the days leading to it. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitknZ9vqO2vfonz-QXY_W0quiB45KtWftCm3M4GsLCyFRMjJ70DosLWre_sykdCWyq3TSfELcGiQuTcygJQCdJnHUkqBvVWM6tjyMulzRA6suYQIdEXPx5u6m7ylZSZN3G0ZvvHNLE0u6C/s1600/tun+m.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="330" data-original-width="600" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitknZ9vqO2vfonz-QXY_W0quiB45KtWftCm3M4GsLCyFRMjJ70DosLWre_sykdCWyq3TSfELcGiQuTcygJQCdJnHUkqBvVWM6tjyMulzRA6suYQIdEXPx5u6m7ylZSZN3G0ZvvHNLE0u6C/s640/tun+m.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dr. Mahathir. Photo credit: Bernama</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We celebrated this quietly at a friend's place in the city centre, overlooking the Twin Towers. How symbolic. This home of mine has been given a second chance at life. It's been two weeks now and I'm loving this new-found voice that we have. And, I hope that Malaysia will use this chance wisely for a better tomorrow and that democracy will never be mismanaged again. Ever. </span><br />
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JJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4777133027139902974.post-3903931634034418942017-10-31T19:52:00.002+08:002017-11-01T15:39:31.692+08:00The Fenty Foundation <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I'm breaking the silence for you, <a href="http://thebluegrumpster.blogspot.my/">Blue Grumpster</a>, with a foundation review, though I'm afraid that <a href="https://www.fentybeauty.com/">Fenty Beauty</a> may not have that cool, sarky blue shade that you are. I can only hope that you're yellow - like me because, let me tell ya, there's a whole lot of delicious, warm shades in that collection of 40 colours. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbvEm0esmo6cZvpF28VEwZjDRX32-K7ayG799elC5fmBzNG7knlEVXB_cBEdCpppqvEGArRZc3vLdfhBKV50emWRuEMhZbpzDdcKeckE7-XWCykYcjVgIc54dqAR_DScEO4xuPYWzVfkrO/s1600/IMG_5601.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbvEm0esmo6cZvpF28VEwZjDRX32-K7ayG799elC5fmBzNG7knlEVXB_cBEdCpppqvEGArRZc3vLdfhBKV50emWRuEMhZbpzDdcKeckE7-XWCykYcjVgIc54dqAR_DScEO4xuPYWzVfkrO/s640/IMG_5601.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Shade 390 (warm) </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">So, I've been wearing this stuff for a few days, presenting myself in various, albeit, tropical weather conditions. And, here's what I think. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><b>Light and non-greasy</b></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> Well, it's soft matte. In fact, I expected it to be dry, and flaking off of my skin by midday, but it doesn't. It's light enough for me to gradually build in the kind of coverage I'm looking for, and more importantly, the </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><b>foundation stays</b> - on <i>my</i> skin, at least. I don't even need to set it with powder, and I love how it refuses to dislodge from my skin, even after a massive sweat session. Truth is, this is probably why I think it's good for me; I'm always sweating, and that makes it a real <b>bang for the buck</b> - RM145 for a 32ml product that comes in the most <b>convenient pump bottle</b>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">You get rich, creamy colour with each pump. Since it's a <b>super-quick drying </b>formula, it's best to release the product in small volumes. I like to mix some sunscreen to the foundation before each application because it's a <b>no-SPF </b>deal<b>. </b>Maybe that's a reason why it's not drying up on me. However, the <b>product oxidises</b> like wildfire. Or, melting cotton candy, I don't know which is faster. Ten minutes after application, I'm already seeing <b>tone changes</b> - like a shade or two darker. Like I've spray-tanned the face. And, shade 390, makes me look a tad bit yellow too, like I've just washed my face after a fresh turmeric mask. Not cool. Maybe, I'll need to scale down to shade 370 to see if it's better. Or try a more neutral shade instead. The bad news is though, every shade that's below shade 390 is sold out at the Sephora near me. Wiped out clean there aren't even testers for those! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">All in all, I'll buy this product again if I can find the best shade for me. I like a bit of shine in my foundations and tinted moisturisers, and this product doesn't really give me that. But, there is nothing that can't be fixed with a little highlighter or cream blusher! </span></div>
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JJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4777133027139902974.post-20977714923152254772017-01-18T22:38:00.001+08:002023-05-03T15:21:15.489+08:00Hello 2017! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">At least this update comes (way) before the first anniversary of my last post. I can live with that. This blog receives a timely jump-start every time I think it's not going to make it. But looking back, I've posted annually since 2010. That isn't too bad considering how I had created it out of complete boredom. So that can only mean one thing; I've been busy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Freelance work was fun for as long as I wanted it but it also made me feel like a hippie. I had too much time on my hands, a wandering mind and a bad neck. That wasn't good to say the least but I did enjoy the evenings outdoor discovering new paths in the quiet forest area not far from where we live, and the freedom I had with time and travel. I spent time like it was some loose change I always had at hand. Then sometime in mid September, there was a call for work. I felt the conflict in my heart and head. To take the job, or not, because apart from my jungle-time sacrifice, there were other things about this particular job that I had to rethink. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A few months into the job, I've become the evening traffic statistic, the homemaker who <i>buys</i> the almond milk instead of painstakingly blending and squeezing the mylk out of em nuts. I'm constantly high, and that too, without a trace of caffeine in my system, I've no jungle time, and on some days I'll be lucky just to catch the evening sun as I leave this cold publisher's building. But it has also been a whole lot of learning and discovering another facet of media and publishing - including the shock of working with the millennials. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">No one had warned me of this breed of humans so to face them after a 4-year sabbatical was a shock to my Gen X ways! </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As of now, all hopes of resuming life as a 'tai tai' (a Chinese colloquial term for a wealthy woman who does not work, except that I'm not wealthy) has been put on hold. It's been a year since we had returned from the Mid East, the husband loves his current job in homeland and I'm sucked into the system again where in a couple of months, I'll be declaring my taxes to the government who refuses to validate my profound unilateral deafness (yes, so I can access that fuss-free parking closest to the mall entrance). </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio1QAdQWQRkoXP45SlSUXoiEk5se2huh957yv430dI6_5mKRPfLu74-pcPlBNVdLmnKvRsr2EJb_2ODov4FTXKw3vOkaYFn5XCWwPEOQdwVdwui3d-bCggIAtdPrbnWc8CeGOGzsy2h7k7/s1600/IMG_9183.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio1QAdQWQRkoXP45SlSUXoiEk5se2huh957yv430dI6_5mKRPfLu74-pcPlBNVdLmnKvRsr2EJb_2ODov4FTXKw3vOkaYFn5XCWwPEOQdwVdwui3d-bCggIAtdPrbnWc8CeGOGzsy2h7k7/s640/IMG_9183.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>As seen from my balcony....I still return home to gorgeous sunsets. </b></td></tr>
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JJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4777133027139902974.post-9374315703569635662016-03-31T12:27:00.000+08:002016-03-31T12:30:34.626+08:00Lost View <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">I've been doing up my work room. It's really nice to have a place just to organise all of my craft supplies and to abide in a clean, white space to stitch, write and dream. This little room used to have a glorious view before I left to Qatar in 2012. On the northeast is the Batu Caves, a temple that is a popular destination for Hindu devotees, local and foreign tourists. The Kuala Lumpur Twin Towers (KLCC), a landmark that I'm always in awe of, is on the northwest. Now, while I can still see the golden statue of Lord Murugan on my left, my view of the towers is slowly and steadily being usurped by a 42-storey condominium project. Well, I live on the 18th floor of a 19-storey building so you can imagine my frustration. All I see now are tower cranes, metallic scaffolding, concrete boxes of work in progress and tiny men in hats walking the newest floors, doing stuff. I'm hoping that they would leave the plot of greenery next to the construction site alone although I suspect it's just a matter of time before a deal is signed for another high rise, view-obstructing, obnoxious building project. Greedy developers and local authorities. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4bdknfu2SQTxGmXOTIEK20ZK5WNuEedDbgh_nmh_StuJBGf9hqXL2dlCPm-erXH9jj8j_As-c84mcpqtwrbhatH3lhzg4CJxGYzvrdtN0rxnnDcyFijbMDGp6ABL2_wwLesrdQU6nvdjd/s1600/IMG_4251.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4bdknfu2SQTxGmXOTIEK20ZK5WNuEedDbgh_nmh_StuJBGf9hqXL2dlCPm-erXH9jj8j_As-c84mcpqtwrbhatH3lhzg4CJxGYzvrdtN0rxnnDcyFijbMDGp6ABL2_wwLesrdQU6nvdjd/s400/IMG_4251.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />The KLCC view before the construction works. <br />On a beautiful, it's a great view. </span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0sgqHhopTdoUWO2afyNKFpvKM5LvexqibPIh673NZWPyjOXJcgJ33rIafZ-fDnQtNkkudPY44swynLX6XZz1YuObTMGQFQgcliqbiCySxAEzvDB2pn7ncuLAL4lqv1zMmGj4tvlqJAKM5/s1600/IMG_1157.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0sgqHhopTdoUWO2afyNKFpvKM5LvexqibPIh673NZWPyjOXJcgJ33rIafZ-fDnQtNkkudPY44swynLX6XZz1YuObTMGQFQgcliqbiCySxAEzvDB2pn7ncuLAL4lqv1zMmGj4tvlqJAKM5/s400/IMG_1157.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">View gone! The haze doesn't help. </span></b></td></tr>
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JJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4777133027139902974.post-85336707094410256922016-03-30T01:43:00.001+08:002016-03-30T01:43:20.305+08:00Back In Homeland <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">We're back from the sandpit. One fine day in July last year, the husband woke up and said, 'Let's do it'. Boom, the resignation went in by the month end, and just like that we found ourselves with only three months in the sandpit. I didn't know what to make of it. Happy? I wanted a change, yes. Whether it's a change of location for us or perhaps another appointment for the husband, I was good either way. At that point, one thing seemed certain; there were no plans, and the open-ended nature of it thrilled me to no end. Where were we going to go, the whats, hows and whos. I liked not having any answers to the million curious, worried, concerned and just nosy questions directed at us. In November, bags packed, goodbyes said, we left Qatar. </span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Five months later, here we are, still in Malaysia. After a nice, long break of doing absolutely nothing but sipping coffees, going on small holidays and sorting out the home, the husband has accepted a job here in Kuala Lumpur. The next phase commences in April. It'd be interesting for him, given that he'd spent most of his years working outside of the homeland. To be honest, a part of me did hope that we'd return to some place else in the Mideast. What is there not to love about the charming land of camels and dates, despite all of its quirks. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">We've been car hunting the last couple of days. Going from one showroom to another, being served more coffee (and cakes), test-driving, each sales person trying to sell his machine as the 'best'... Quite frankly, all I want in a car at this point is an excellent air-conditioning system. The current heatwave is the worst I've experienced here. Pure torture. Also, I wish more cars came in tan upholstery rather than the stark, black and grey leather. I know many would think it's sleek but I'm always in black myself. It's like the only colour I ever wear. That aside, I still haven't found a single car that has<i> </i>every thing I like. Earlier today, I took out a lovely machine with excellent handling but the seat positioning was too low for my liking, given my height. Before that, I tested a vehicle that the sales person described as the 'perfect one for a lady driver like yourself'. It gave me the vantage point I desired but it did feel like I was driving a giant can with shiny wheels. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">And these cars... are all so expensive here. Car shopping is much pleasant in Doha without the tax! I just regret not having gotten that Jeep Wrangler then when I had the chance. Bummer. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">We'll see how it goes but it ain't going to be that Wrangler. </span></div>
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JJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4777133027139902974.post-6372601109009570522015-09-10T15:31:00.001+08:002015-09-10T15:31:54.686+08:00Go Bananas!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">I was going bananas with this one. I had tried and tried to sketch a banana but after each attempt, it wasn't just working out. Who would have thought that making a banana to look like one would be so hard?! But it was. So I had to deviate from my original plan of having scattered bananas in its various states and forms covering 3/4 of the frame to having just one. The "go bananas' text was to be below all those randomly hovering bananas.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The idea popped up after an evening of Genmaicha overdose. Roasted brown rice green tea has never affected me badly before because of its much lower caffeine content than a regular green tea. That day however, it was a different story. I don't know why, maybe I was just too tired, it was easier to OD from it. I had suffered all night long until I gained some semblance of calmness, having consumed a couple of bananas. My body was going bananas with caffeine and it took some bananas to bring me to normalcy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Once done away with the multi-banana idea, I focused on getting one right. With the right curves and angles, the outline began to resemble the fruit. Colour in, I was quite pleased with my half-peeled, single, politically-correct banana. Eventually, it turned out to be an exercise in which I've learnt to focus on shapes more than anything. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLsgeD4kYsZoXeHz3uwGFdsbvCKV-8dG4mtzCcZsXQ-h8m1DvxAXRb82R2zUbCGnJdcMKKrhLHAtZrGZgRadJ_0f29r7DX9xJ0-Gh9avd2Lr0c5mv0rK3LPd5-_T32kT9e1qPT8TyC2Pgy/s1600/IMG_4975.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLsgeD4kYsZoXeHz3uwGFdsbvCKV-8dG4mtzCcZsXQ-h8m1DvxAXRb82R2zUbCGnJdcMKKrhLHAtZrGZgRadJ_0f29r7DX9xJ0-Gh9avd2Lr0c5mv0rK3LPd5-_T32kT9e1qPT8TyC2Pgy/s400/IMG_4975.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The goal was to get it right. And here it is!</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKTfK6wqgN8RL66xu7mmPYgk12B7G1muGT_Ao7X_fXCDH40FYszrLlkJDvL80sGrWZD9v5ItUAgUNT9PeGBkXA3i8e3K7TwQ8MaFoXVgqBvHKs_-nDVrquTiYsacpXhry6crlDkI4R6s9j/s1600/IMG_4805.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKTfK6wqgN8RL66xu7mmPYgk12B7G1muGT_Ao7X_fXCDH40FYszrLlkJDvL80sGrWZD9v5ItUAgUNT9PeGBkXA3i8e3K7TwQ8MaFoXVgqBvHKs_-nDVrquTiYsacpXhry6crlDkI4R6s9j/s400/IMG_4805.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Everything else after the banana was just about trying new <br />stitches and tricks. I love the little heart on the right. Looks<br />like those sugar flakes you use to decorate cakes. </span></b></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0uSZrU8fszxpbdQZBgNLOgAyqi2_pPtv0PzJA2cRS-O0pEhfhbSQGvWORNc7MA9z0chi9_t7d6cw1sfIJSF-OGfHqLv15NjSTQrS7fjW_VeSaejkjvJA7Esfq49V_h7sA5MqQyNVu-vzX/s1600/IMG_4801.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0uSZrU8fszxpbdQZBgNLOgAyqi2_pPtv0PzJA2cRS-O0pEhfhbSQGvWORNc7MA9z0chi9_t7d6cw1sfIJSF-OGfHqLv15NjSTQrS7fjW_VeSaejkjvJA7Esfq49V_h7sA5MqQyNVu-vzX/s400/IMG_4801.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> The single banana doesn't really capture the wild<br /> enthusiasm of the message of living life and going bananas! </span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">xx</span><br />
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JJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4777133027139902974.post-51840467739661155992015-09-06T03:49:00.001+08:002015-09-06T04:57:12.968+08:00Be Love and Something Blue <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">IT'S September and I'm still fat. Slowing metabolism is one of the hardest things to handle, mentally more than anything, as we age. I'm trying to keep up with the long walks and the light to moderate weight-training in the gym but boy, it seems like this life is hell-bound on giving me tests, one after another. The bootcamp had to be stopped five weeks ago, as my<a href="http://jayagandi2010.blogspot.qa/2011/10/still-at-lost.html"> Chronic Extertional Compartment Syndrome</a> had been causing me more pain and numbness with increased, very visible muscle herniations on the lower limbs. Next week, I'm back at a sports injury hospital here for a run test, to see if the pain which had gone up to the pelvic area from the lower leg is more than just CECS. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">On the bright side, I'm keeping busy with projects that demand my full attention and concentration. I'm loving the embroidery stitching works that I've been doing. At the moment, I'm collecting small pieces of designs, inspired by the things and issues that are going on in the world around me. When I've about 20 to 25 of these little pieces done using a four-inch hoop, I plan to put them together into a quilt for a sofa throw or a blanket. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Although embroidery isn't something I've done before, it's proven to be addictive and therapeutic as I pull in each stitch and watch them turn into something pretty. It's also been a great learning experience as I discover new stitches and technique from videos, books and other professional artists I follow online. While I love stitching classic flowers like daisies, sunflowers and roses, and lapping them up with leaves and patterns, I'm also keen on experimenting with landscape and portrait embroidery. For now though, I have to say that the hardest thing I've done is a banana. It's a task to make a banana to look like a fruit as it should be if you know what I mean! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Below are some patterns I've completed. I shall post more of my work in the following posts, and you can also follow me on Instragram @choc_smurf for some visual progress I've made on the project! </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8pPFqPheuWTldWQ_mkBN9wM4LbzAopY0WYHOur3isb6mTgjJAGW8gxu9DoY3iYhQZkWUPK_Ajm8OGCEcinQBURztI-II3JZfuPN1Qb1ihdJ1YhZjQa_cPG3McmGxlQFt4zstHn4LW_0oW/s1600/IMG_4536.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8pPFqPheuWTldWQ_mkBN9wM4LbzAopY0WYHOur3isb6mTgjJAGW8gxu9DoY3iYhQZkWUPK_Ajm8OGCEcinQBURztI-II3JZfuPN1Qb1ihdJ1YhZjQa_cPG3McmGxlQFt4zstHn4LW_0oW/s400/IMG_4536.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Be Love. I had intended it for my mom but decided to keep it <br />for the quilt project. To be love, I don't know how to even begin. <br />It's such a simple thing yet to be that much or kind of love <br />demands a degree of divinity from us. Can you be love ? </span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9zKcp8C1U5IdfkwcafoUVQez7B0dplOL_BPXG3xLPBZfptpRfP9HYbpwiJQlS6SVXEjvWzcaNrmmRYhWcCbM28nYfYQ32w0IsmYAtlhxe5htqo3NEEsbqbcd3mktJYN573fJmQIG-mOU1/s1600/IMG_4523.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9zKcp8C1U5IdfkwcafoUVQez7B0dplOL_BPXG3xLPBZfptpRfP9HYbpwiJQlS6SVXEjvWzcaNrmmRYhWcCbM28nYfYQ32w0IsmYAtlhxe5htqo3NEEsbqbcd3mktJYN573fJmQIG-mOU1/s400/IMG_4523.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My first time ever experimenting with french knots. It took me<br />a few hours to complete the frame. I felt efficient doing this and<br />it was a great confidence booster as I went onto other<br /> projects from here. There must be like 4-5 shades of purples here<br />and I caught myself constantly threading colours. </span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPJCP6e466fsCA2sFWvzybviQEae1g9zMEUaXP_GlyNkP135RJM_7QC5ZXicGtw99FdDDO27YhaGpSqbd7REscSMbNEiZ9IlPxwJGxdyc1fQPAVQNAzpwD5tIu7SlCIfqjfaSseOEwE_0f/s1600/IMG_4615.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPJCP6e466fsCA2sFWvzybviQEae1g9zMEUaXP_GlyNkP135RJM_7QC5ZXicGtw99FdDDO27YhaGpSqbd7REscSMbNEiZ9IlPxwJGxdyc1fQPAVQNAzpwD5tIu7SlCIfqjfaSseOEwE_0f/s400/IMG_4615.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A head full of flowers, inspired by a recent wedding of a<br />dear friend, who was such a beautiful bride with large orchids<br />adorning the side of her head. I couldn't attend her wedding in<br />Singapore but her photos were beautiful and awe-inspiring I <br />almost cried looking at them. </span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ABRsl6MmRvLB6UtvSFflkXiFLGux6gpRplJSDLnEOyhb__kQuks2eaLk9zNUroTrBd2iuwCGBYlCWot0MVUeHpHIT3qLY8kA_e5S3OS15rvnNz16zdVM_eBw9BoeAWzXE5yDLUpX40k2/s1600/IMG_4616.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ABRsl6MmRvLB6UtvSFflkXiFLGux6gpRplJSDLnEOyhb__kQuks2eaLk9zNUroTrBd2iuwCGBYlCWot0MVUeHpHIT3qLY8kA_e5S3OS15rvnNz16zdVM_eBw9BoeAWzXE5yDLUpX40k2/s400/IMG_4616.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Apart from the outline of the head and shoulders, the florals<br /> were all done completely freehand. Not the neatest of works but<br />I should get my hands on sharp tip transfer pens. The only craft shop<br /> I know in Doha hardly sells any of that. Pity. I was also nervous<br />trying to make the hair look like studio- groomed hair of a bride. <br />In the end, I was quite pleased with it. </span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix4VQ26c8KsgyDjTtQ7qX_ou6NgYadhoSGSMNeqSdHLZdHVW1Du-jNRbCgaogyPma6RBbcNS8JfNc6Mwn5Tu6_fvofqo0NIUQe_nhttFhIWP0LcdBBx_XoF9WzLTub8xi0dqPQaNRc3iFi/s1600/IMG_4621.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix4VQ26c8KsgyDjTtQ7qX_ou6NgYadhoSGSMNeqSdHLZdHVW1Du-jNRbCgaogyPma6RBbcNS8JfNc6Mwn5Tu6_fvofqo0NIUQe_nhttFhIWP0LcdBBx_XoF9WzLTub8xi0dqPQaNRc3iFi/s400/IMG_4621.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Something Blue. The card we gave her during her hen's night<br /> in Doha was blue and had Something Blue printed in glitters <br />on the front. This is also the first time I'm experimenting on <br />this stitch for the words, done almost freehand<br />because the chalk pencil is really good for nothing. </span></b></td></tr>
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JJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4777133027139902974.post-26233113315360281292015-08-11T05:33:00.003+08:002023-05-03T15:39:44.293+08:00Of Tampons, Hair Colour and the Unknown <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">I was trapped in another horrid dream this morning. It had something to do with my brother, suicidal thoughts and the fear of death (of a loved one) all at the same time. Very disturbing. Then I woke up to a message from a panicking friend. Apparently her tampon in use had gone 'missing'. After an exchange of messages, she took off to the hospital. The doctor's only advice after inspecting her was to check the bed, bedside and bathroom for any signs of it. Surely an used tampon wouldn't be lying discreet on the bed, I told her. It probably got flushed down the toilet during one of those dozy midnight bathroom breaks. Not speaking from experience but oddly enough, I just happened to have a few tales of tampon/ sanitary pad mishap, firsthand from people I know. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Lately I've been itching to colour my hair. Two years ago, I told myself that I'd do my best to stay away from any chemical treatment that may damage my shiny tresses. Also, I had wanted to stay natural until the first of greys appears. I'm lucky I still have a head full of raven, black hair...BUT I'm itching for a change. A little bit of colour would be uplifting. At the same time, I don't want to be dumping colours onto my hair in the heat of the moment just to regret it 12 hours later. Or the minute it's done. Unfortunately this sort of itch, when paired with a dose of careless spontaneity can be destructive to one's state of mind. Yet without it, it's no better? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We're almost two weeks into August. September will catch up soon and from there, I don't know where things will be heading for us. Yes, a new adventure is up but I just don't have any details on it yet. I'm excited as much as I fear the unknown. Sometimes it makes my mouth dry just thinking about how things could go wrong but mostly the prospect of another adventure, maybe even a new phase in life, is welcoming. I will update on this as soon as I have a better picture on what's before us! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">On another note, it's always nice to receive food, especially homegrown or homemade with love. Recently I had a sudden craving for a tangy, hot Kimchi soup. Hunger panged past midnight, I punched in a lame FB status shamelessly proclaiming my craving. A minute later, a friend, offered to drop off some Kimchi he had made for himself. It was a lovely gesture and a huge surprise for me: I did not expect Kimchi, of all foods, from him. The next day, I was a happy woman with a container full of hot Kimchi which I had partly used for a satisfying meal of Kimchi Fried Rice. Small gestures like this make me incredibly happy. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">A beautiful homemade Kimchi although the husband </span></b><br />
<b><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">thinks that it looks more like brain matter in hot sauce. </span></b><br />
<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><b>(Think iZombie)</b></span></td></tr>
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JJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4777133027139902974.post-8199662939877433362015-07-07T22:02:00.001+08:002023-05-03T15:44:32.525+08:00Of Potions, Lotions and Creams <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">AS I'm typing out this post, I'm drenched in a luxurious concoction of premium east-african shea butter, rosehip oil and glycerin, scented with drops of ylang ylang and lavender essential oils. My skin is gleaming, reflecting the light from the window, and the scent, oh so intoxicating. The potion is soft and stable at room temperature but melts like butter on a hot bun when it hits the skin. I smell like the sweet offerings for the god of the skies, like an ancient temple or an Indian bride on her wedding night. Whatever, I smell so good right now. Ylang ylang, on its own puts me off but with lavender, it's mild and mysterious. It's </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">been deeply satisfying making my own lotions, creams and balms.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Last night, I attempted a whipped body and hair cream. Unrefined shea and organic cocoa butters as the base with a teaspoon of glycerin, rosehip and coconut oils, bound by the humble rosemary and lavender essential oils. I had so much fun melting, mixing and beating the oils to a soft peak of creamy white potion that went smugly into a jar for use. This one is as heavy duty as it can get especially during the dry months, which Qatar is mostly. I would have preferred this one as a body bar though, the kind that you run over your bare skin with right after a hot shower during harsh winters. Hmm, just the thought of it makes my skin moist. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">All of my creams have been custom made for my thirsty skin, as in dry to very dry, so I haven't made anything that includes water. I'd love to experiment with hydrosols (rose, green tea water) in my other lotions that I may want to give away as gifts. Personally, I'd much rather just stick to shea butter because it's scent free on its own. Cocoa butter, as emollient and lovely as it can be, I find its rich sweet, chocolately scent a little off-putting. It makes me feel like I've tripped into a bowl of chocolate cake batter and I'm sticky all over. I'd like my lotions to be lightly woody/ herbal and floral with a dash of whimsy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">For the lips, I made little luscious pots of balms. Since the balm was the first thing I ever made in this fairly new adventure, I couldn't contain the joy I felt as I leveled each pot with that sticky stable goodness. This is a gently melted pot of shea butter, beeswax, rosehip and coconut oils, a teaspoon each, iced with some drops of peppermint so it feels cool and soothing on the lips. I can't wait to add natural pink tint to the balms in my next try. Imagine, infusing hibiscus flowers in the oils prior to making the balms. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Most of all, making my own skincare gives me a definite power over what I choose to put on my body so I know what works and doesn't for me. If it doesn't work, I only have myself to blame + I get to note the changes in my skin and try different natural solutions for the best results. Secondly, I have a whole world of oils to test and try on. Almond, jojoba, amaranth, argan, castor, the list is endless. For now, I'm happy with rosehip, noted for its anti-ageing properties. Shea butter is just amazing. I get mine from a friend who brings it from Nairobi with close contact to the source. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Try making your own if you have a chance. It's addictive as much as it is fun! </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">s<b><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">ome of ingredients for my homemade potions </span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><b>my daily go-to mosturiser </b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><b>the whipped cream for body and hair</b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioGAvTKDtFEcKNWb3Fh4PO8DJN0lRFN9rj-6tvuchTbyHML-5PC6SgJghdDuCG4G61gGw7DsojSUKDZe-G5cLvC-T486MITpFXSPjkH44VZZLxbAvBMicLetZq0q1sNs5mzQIkfOH_OGt5/s1600/IMG_3586.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioGAvTKDtFEcKNWb3Fh4PO8DJN0lRFN9rj-6tvuchTbyHML-5PC6SgJghdDuCG4G61gGw7DsojSUKDZe-G5cLvC-T486MITpFXSPjkH44VZZLxbAvBMicLetZq0q1sNs5mzQIkfOH_OGt5/s320/IMG_3586.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;"><b><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">the whipped cream for body and hair</span></b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ1ktRCUissiyAvSJrQM3B_pmApZvEl55Vm1kLAqMxYYgr0x7QFPOh5PPtNgRCGe1kXt5TVwgAKQxYm14w1O4RFl_9hm6pBP2YF_zOAqYRc2YtCroiiwTurk5IjhsEeq3WQgAmGGdz96KM/s1600/IMG_3590.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ1ktRCUissiyAvSJrQM3B_pmApZvEl55Vm1kLAqMxYYgr0x7QFPOh5PPtNgRCGe1kXt5TVwgAKQxYm14w1O4RFl_9hm6pBP2YF_zOAqYRc2YtCroiiwTurk5IjhsEeq3WQgAmGGdz96KM/s320/IMG_3590.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">the soothing balm :) </span></b></td></tr>
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JJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4777133027139902974.post-77209543992631595082015-06-29T06:32:00.000+08:002015-06-29T06:32:19.941+08:00Vivid Dreams <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">In a couple of days, I complete and begin another year of my life, officially gravitating towards the late 30s. I don't know what to feel about it. Mostly, I'm not too happy about how time is just eating up my life. In no time, I'll be 40 and then comes the 50s. Not sure what's beyond that if I'm still around! Maybe it's the nightmare I had last night where a swamp of wasp or wasp-like insects washed over me. They didn't sting but they were kind of evil, like they had meant to harm me and they actually did. Soon, I was panicking. My legs swelled up, my face bloated with visible blisters. Mom was rushing my brother to send me to the hospital but he just stood there in his usual lackadaisical way, maybe even taking comfort with what he saw as I became frantic. And then, I woke up. </span><div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have vivid dreams every night and I remember them in detail. During deep sleep, I know that I'm in a dream and some days, the dreams are a continuation of something I've had before. The husband is always fascinated with my stories in the mornings. I used to be quite bothered by my dreams when I was younger but I've learnt to enjoy them over time. These days, I look forward to going to bed so I could go on adventures. They make me feel like I'm living in a movie set or a different realm. Some settings are the same like the houses I grew up in, others are so fictional with mythical creatures like the large, black dragon which was also a train? Lol. Its body, a long stretch of coaches. They occur in colour because I actually dreamt in full B&W once and was totally fascinated by it. The difference is profound. Some dreams are the recurring type and they usually have the same theme like I'm sitting for an examination or gliding in the air or I'm naked with other naked people. A small number of dreams affect me very much even in a sleep state. I wake up in tears or trying to punch or kick at something. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The wasp dream is still bothering me though. Not sure if most people have vivid dreams like I do. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipbvsDIFKBIY6ln_D92rHYje3qXlsP5E6QdqpHPv2jf9R1i0IaWtk4y96TooqTIhyuY2s2Lu3TTC5BshQJSBqjmHRJZv1JsY9RPkFzpJ_wsRLktpfdJHtDdVKuTTS0jdWTyy5RyHWPKcV_/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="397" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipbvsDIFKBIY6ln_D92rHYje3qXlsP5E6QdqpHPv2jf9R1i0IaWtk4y96TooqTIhyuY2s2Lu3TTC5BshQJSBqjmHRJZv1JsY9RPkFzpJ_wsRLktpfdJHtDdVKuTTS0jdWTyy5RyHWPKcV_/s400/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A favourite pic of my niece Scarlet and I taken at<br /> Chinatown in Melbourne in January. </span></b></td></tr>
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JJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4777133027139902974.post-1469280296058813432015-05-10T19:53:00.000+08:002015-05-10T20:03:14.278+08:00Little Asian In The Sun <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: proxima-nova, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 32px;">I've been a little unwell recently. I guess I've just been tired and being outdoors in the sandy atmosphere has taken a toll on me. The indoors, however, drives me mad especially in these past two weeks when I've had lesser work to do. Meaning, nothing much to focus on. I don't really like watching TV during the day, I can only read so much and cooking for two doesn't take forever. In short, my movements are restricted indoors. I suppose for me, moving about, is key to sanity. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: proxima-nova, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 32px;">I had spent the last ten days, walking. With a small bag pack carrying water, towel, bananas, an extra pair of pants and a note book, I left home around 3pm, walked through the city for about 2-3 hours before going to my evening bootcamp sessions. I had also kept my RunKeeper app turned on so I could track my distance, time and route. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: proxima-nova, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 32px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: proxima-nova, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 32px;">Well, I didn't see much on my routes except for a dead kitten and a bird but I did notice the amount of roadworks that's been taking place. It's everywhere, almost at every major road, creating a traffic mess. Some of these are way past their deadlines. Apparently, that's the sad construction culture here, according to the hub. Some of his own projects have been delayed to a year due to many reasons including client indecisiveness. Like how one client had wanted to have all those street lights changed after seeing a design he liked better from another part of the city. At that point,</span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 32px;"> everything has been agreed upon and authorised. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 32px;"> </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 32px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Having unilateral hearing loss, the busy and noisy outdoors is challenging. There's a combination of sounds from the traffic and heavy machinery. But I also feel that it helps me get used to it all even more so I could be outdoors longer without feeling queasy and misplaced. I do rely more on my eyesight when I'm outdoors which brings me back to the careless and callous driving culture here. Signal fixtures are obviously redundant as drivers take corners and lanes without ever using them. Speeding, well over the speeding limit even when making a turn is a norm that's dangerous and irresponsible. Only one out of 10 vehicles that I came across used a signal when making a turn as I counted and cussed. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 32px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I also got incessant stares, honks from passersby. Walking isn't really a culture here. Especially when the temperature is rising, even more so if you're a woman and an Asian woman at that (many Asian women seem to have sun phobia). I was fully covered, from top to bottom complete with a hat for the long distance. No catcalling but just stares. By now, I've learnt to ignore them, I think. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 32px;">A minority stared like I was naked.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 32px;"> A handful of them ogled at the section in between my hips like I was an inanimate picture in a magazine. That still made me mighty uncomfortable and sick. The majority was probably just curious about the little Asian woman in the sun. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 32px;">I hope to resume walking some time this week. Despite the challenges, I do enjoy my walks. There are things I don't see and feel when I'm driving. In the mean time, I've been resting at home, quite restlessly. So, I took up a project to revive an old, plain sweater. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxmaV2V2HnXAN4G5lgIcrhshR35Pbaxz4GNHV0LuC5WMiEfopCLO1cOM15b_Te_J53BFREYbSV63a6iIHNZuUUjCRWtU7wTYzkL55a7aGXOR1ryRrkYNxx23mZwfKK0ZdVRVDSYwlO84Ns/s1600/IMG_2335.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxmaV2V2HnXAN4G5lgIcrhshR35Pbaxz4GNHV0LuC5WMiEfopCLO1cOM15b_Te_J53BFREYbSV63a6iIHNZuUUjCRWtU7wTYzkL55a7aGXOR1ryRrkYNxx23mZwfKK0ZdVRVDSYwlO84Ns/s400/IMG_2335.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I sewed clusters of dyed stones onto the front of the sweater</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOf04eQcCShf9OxY4ZYxPPENELkpEG-mDhv9PvmVLSmFQ0liYjg90Q62Jr4AtErOHMAJiXf-uwdN9TyYbJGloihcb3Fe3Nf4AAH_27vu9ssj_6IxiO_wtaPW-AultQxiIfmc7TE3MeE3cL/s1600/IMG_2343.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOf04eQcCShf9OxY4ZYxPPENELkpEG-mDhv9PvmVLSmFQ0liYjg90Q62Jr4AtErOHMAJiXf-uwdN9TyYbJGloihcb3Fe3Nf4AAH_27vu9ssj_6IxiO_wtaPW-AultQxiIfmc7TE3MeE3cL/s400/IMG_2343.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Irregular shaped dyed stones in clusters</span></b> </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGZZu9xcAXs6pbppIc10xh4xy9S1vLS7VDBvvZIneFnje16jA61MeeNyp1f3XqE3wP3YCUuo1ZfN0zio3oZNkGAahbXBgnYJ6OEAMsBW9gBniyoplyzyFXVIa5DEOfhCS3pStbRWVv70kD/s1600/IMG_2336.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGZZu9xcAXs6pbppIc10xh4xy9S1vLS7VDBvvZIneFnje16jA61MeeNyp1f3XqE3wP3YCUuo1ZfN0zio3oZNkGAahbXBgnYJ6OEAMsBW9gBniyoplyzyFXVIa5DEOfhCS3pStbRWVv70kD/s400/IMG_2336.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Close-up</span></b></td></tr>
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JJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4777133027139902974.post-52007187442089699192015-05-01T06:53:00.000+08:002015-05-04T17:20:20.042+08:00Keria (Sweet Potato Doughnut) <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">I'VE had an extraordinary childhood: have definitely experienced a way of life which may have even been unfamiliar to my peers then. A part of it includes food. From growing it, getting our supply from growers in the neighbourhood and to cooking, there was plenty of good food around. A common crop in the house garden was the tapioca or cassava. We had planted like 50 of those all year round, back to back. Till now, I still couldn't figure why we did that because after harvesting what's needed for us, some neighbours and friends, we still had extras. My dad and grandma (maternal) were crazy about this root. Their sentiment, I think, wasn't something that stemmed from its lovely flavours. Rather, it was more deep-rooted than that. Both dad and grandma had lived through the dreadful Japanese occupation era in Malaya (Dec 1941 to Aug 1945) during which time, food supply was scarce. Staple rice was out of the question. People's lives depended mainly on tapioca because it grew easily, all year round, with minimal effort. It had kept them alive from starvation. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So there was that sentiment. My dad who hardly ever gets upset with me, got visibly upset whenever I expressed dislike over food made from tapioca. He'd swiftly and constantly remind me of how it had kept them alive during the era. I didn't make much of it then but now thinking back, I know better. My grandma, on the other hand, was a bit lax about that. There were several ways we ate them. We start by washing and boiling the roots. The soft root was then made into traditional Malay cakes (kueh), eaten with tea. For a more savoury option, the boiled and cubed root was fried with spices, curry leaves and Asian anchovies as a meal of its own. It can be fried into fritters, cooked to porridge or simply eaten with sugar and freshly grated coconut (which we also grew in the huge backyard next to the pineapple plot). </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As a kid though, I couldn't identify with the clean flavours of tapioca. It generally felt a bit bland and sometimes even dry for my liking. Of course, I feel differently about it now. What I actually really did like then were sweet potatoes. We didn't grow any of those but we got them, also locally grown, easily from the market. They can be cooked in almost the same ways we do with tapioca. I like them simply boiled, fried into sweet fritters or made into Malay tea cakes. One such tea cake which I enjoy very much is Keria or sweet potato doughnuts! The inside is a bit dense but soft. The outside is coated with crunchy crystalised sugar. My grandma cooked them at home but we could also easily buy them at the market in the mornings and evenings. These days, they're more of a treat than anything for me. I've cut out all processed sugar from my diet for almost three years now. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrGCD54GQ_vG5oeEt42pGz_lblfMkskdjNDKCcdehnY5g_BmfVSO15qbUpaQTimf662MZV8fSeXVAXf6OP1Kyz-KSii2JmjsQ0WuG6DgfLJiBcJ21MPgjyfRwrmzsZmry050cy_xryUXnb/s1600/11150439_10152828961863364_7294030440708075213_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrGCD54GQ_vG5oeEt42pGz_lblfMkskdjNDKCcdehnY5g_BmfVSO15qbUpaQTimf662MZV8fSeXVAXf6OP1Kyz-KSii2JmjsQ0WuG6DgfLJiBcJ21MPgjyfRwrmzsZmry050cy_xryUXnb/s1600/11150439_10152828961863364_7294030440708075213_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A batch of Keria which we shared with my British neighbours downstairs</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I haven't made them in such a long time. Not since around the time my grandma was alive. In Doha, these are hard to find unless there's a Malaysian food bazaar at the embassy. After more than a decade, I made a batch today, thinking of my wonderful childhood, our large kitchen and all the good times we had in that quarter of house. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ingredients : </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">600g sweet potatoes (about two medium-sized ones, boiled and peeled) </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">1.5 to 2 cups flour </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">salt </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">some oil ( I use a combination of coconut and grape seed oils) </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">1/2 cup sugar and a little water to glaze </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Method: </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Mash the sweet potatoes and add flour bit by bit. Mix well. Also add salt. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It may be sticky. Use a bit of plain flour to coat the fingers, pinch a small ball of off the mixture to shape into a10cm long cylinder. Join both ends, and fry till golden on both sides. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Combine sugar and water in a wok over medium fire. Mix till it thickens and add all of the fried doughnuts. Coat well and let it cool to enjoy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">XX</span></div>
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JJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4777133027139902974.post-86285710633735645672015-04-15T20:29:00.000+08:002015-04-19T17:23:32.404+08:00South Africa: Where I Could Live <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">BEFORE we left for Africa, we were bombarded with crime alerts from concerned friends and family. In fact, safety was the <i>only</i> thing that got mentioned when we announced our dream holiday plans to them. By the time we left, we were quite bothered by all those alerts. And then, we landed in Johannesburg. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">We took a cab and went out that very night when I realised what I was doing: I was looking at every person on the street and judging them indiscriminately. And I was very ashamed of myself for that. That night, I changed my tarnished mindset about the whole safety issue. Would I go out alone on foot or even in a car to some places in my own country? No! Why, I don't even have the peace of mind to walk in some areas during the <i>day</i> in Bangsar (Kuala Lumpur)! Crime risks are anywhere and everywhere, we just have to be street smart. I could have been pick-pocketed in Paris or robbed at gunpoint in New York too. When I was able to release that mindset, I saw the people in a new, different perspective. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The second part of our South African holiday was in Cape Town. I'm going to repeat what millions before me have said about this place: A paradise. I'd say it's the real God's own country. It's just that beautiful, and I thought to myself, hey, I could live here! Livable because the food's good and relatively cheap, the natural environment is well taken care of, I could totally go barefooted outdoors and no one's going to look at me weirdly, there are mountains and a beautiful coastline to keep me happy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The main attraction here is the Table Mountain. The name is self-explanatory because the rocky mountain top is flat like a table. It's listed as one of the new seven wonders of the world and is a major something that adds to the beauty of this city. We went up the mountain via a cable car. It was a three-minute ride up but alternately one can also choose to hike up for 2.5 to 3 hours. I'd have preferred to hike up if we had the luxury of time. The view from atop 1085m was magnificent on a clear day like that. The city of tiny boxes, the pristine coastline, the blurred line between the blue sea and sky, the merging of two great oceans: atlantic and indian oceans, rocks and greens. My eyes couldn't have feasted enough when we saw a couple abseiling down the mountain. Of course, we had to do it too, at least for a new Facebook cover photo!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4zYZ7WWLR1IMqPyB3Qh-8QadPPWYZLhNMO0-PbS8bA6exid9kvPk9HfsWFU-YeYO-jFtoDfBYv1YGTRpPolEKK9gUY372ctgSwEA8WG0KKDm-pwiFiNsTafesGmxB5UsyUG1uxzYvAOMp/s1600/10525758_10152795666783364_8815817754999520788_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4zYZ7WWLR1IMqPyB3Qh-8QadPPWYZLhNMO0-PbS8bA6exid9kvPk9HfsWFU-YeYO-jFtoDfBYv1YGTRpPolEKK9gUY372ctgSwEA8WG0KKDm-pwiFiNsTafesGmxB5UsyUG1uxzYvAOMp/s1600/10525758_10152795666783364_8815817754999520788_n.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Table Mountain </b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhmCoef_UDRjJ_GR5qvaYteecwrpdK6l-xWzzE07QGDWZHNORUfhkpFchsV32v5yZpmQR9og5CnAEhKoJ3oEr6sXD39NZFPArFDT_hyphenhyphenyyoHEd-4ahmmTVunY5MeOfH0fSEBLgIc7GwxPmu/s1600/20801_10152795667288364_5366400899694936956_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhmCoef_UDRjJ_GR5qvaYteecwrpdK6l-xWzzE07QGDWZHNORUfhkpFchsV32v5yZpmQR9og5CnAEhKoJ3oEr6sXD39NZFPArFDT_hyphenhyphenyyoHEd-4ahmmTVunY5MeOfH0fSEBLgIc7GwxPmu/s1600/20801_10152795667288364_5366400899694936956_n.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Picture doesn't do justice</span></b> </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgboBi2M-JmfTgTehomjAh-TCjaGHbSGNk_Xas1DFgIIF-Tyo0-DK6ko1QsE5mDwRiGTLuWkjJ9-93hfrWjLRv-XuMZJ6rxwAN94OIU09_3ubHijqplo0PNU7zLfN562f1iLV8HdKbcjjpc/s1600/11150488_10152795667158364_7584966810683573793_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgboBi2M-JmfTgTehomjAh-TCjaGHbSGNk_Xas1DFgIIF-Tyo0-DK6ko1QsE5mDwRiGTLuWkjJ9-93hfrWjLRv-XuMZJ6rxwAN94OIU09_3ubHijqplo0PNU7zLfN562f1iLV8HdKbcjjpc/s1600/11150488_10152795667158364_7584966810683573793_n.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Where two great oceans meet: Atlantic and Indian oceans </b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOSn5qldvaE4DVkcbpQXfQqumNxoXx4kvjBFUAOFIiztzaAm8Cy28DJRMjQxJ3CSF0yZkZBu4tR7CMsWZku2Rrl9K_PL26coRdhFGTJbYjxHp-UTNBSM0q64UOSdWoNkVHZzhJ7-CLEWve/s1600/11008549_10152795667063364_3377274891260763109_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOSn5qldvaE4DVkcbpQXfQqumNxoXx4kvjBFUAOFIiztzaAm8Cy28DJRMjQxJ3CSF0yZkZBu4tR7CMsWZku2Rrl9K_PL26coRdhFGTJbYjxHp-UTNBSM0q64UOSdWoNkVHZzhJ7-CLEWve/s1600/11008549_10152795667063364_3377274891260763109_n.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tourists soaking in the view and atmosphere from atop </span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">We signed our lives away. It seemed easier this time after the skydiving papers. Fear was matched with the loony drive for adrenalin. All hooked up, with some juvenile fans cheering us on, we went down to the abseil point, posed for the camera confidently like we did this on a daily basis and began our way down, dangling our lives on a piece of rope we've never held before. It wasn't too bad, I thought, until it came to a point where the mountain had no place for a foothold. Yes! It sort of caved in like a mammoth C and I was left dangling in midair in every sense of the word! Sea, sky and rocks versus a tiny me. Amongst the elements, I was a speck of nothingness but it was something: a beautiful and humbling experience. The abseil was all for 112m and we hiked up to the top, soaking in the view and occasionally meeting the resident lizards and mountain dassies. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx6Gh2VjIfWh0VUzVNV_KqJWzcAreLmA-ASS1GT0vxqpEZ0hE951CL9g89mbNCknmpVkFqAEiRIpSwB0FipXIsud2CNyhwM8MJG7REx5lviGKeU_S3xIfkBOFc3B2ky4yyGGnfYXQXMujD/s1600/10613127_10152782885738364_7698151009902432062_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx6Gh2VjIfWh0VUzVNV_KqJWzcAreLmA-ASS1GT0vxqpEZ0hE951CL9g89mbNCknmpVkFqAEiRIpSwB0FipXIsud2CNyhwM8MJG7REx5lviGKeU_S3xIfkBOFc3B2ky4yyGGnfYXQXMujD/s1600/10613127_10152782885738364_7698151009902432062_n.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All geared up</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi-aMjEd8FTvwE7ra9TP99ohF-W8ZkOnXylNl0Z4qgMnxSm2-KNJ1BSpPCJdyzeKD-cSYDyQ5VQTdfJ2ygrQqgk0QcAR-eXCuj-HltmgNID5iJR9SQwhQv8wFlNd3xawYXntSYdo_ZyMLe/s1600/1463253_10152785177083364_2071843271929200413_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi-aMjEd8FTvwE7ra9TP99ohF-W8ZkOnXylNl0Z4qgMnxSm2-KNJ1BSpPCJdyzeKD-cSYDyQ5VQTdfJ2ygrQqgk0QcAR-eXCuj-HltmgNID5iJR9SQwhQv8wFlNd3xawYXntSYdo_ZyMLe/s1600/1463253_10152785177083364_2071843271929200413_n.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A pose before the deal </span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">On the ground, the city was a hype of activity along the coastline. We did the hop-off-hop-on bus tour and fed on interesting information along the way like why the water was chilly during summer and warm in winter, the creatures that lived in them, some history etc till we hopped off for some food, sight-seeing and people-watching. A bit over-rated perhaps, but I did my hair at the Victoria and Alfred Waterfront. I'm now spotting cornrows. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQywsHIkT-_J0cKANd1mLZkZ-9VyFeuLugDn_NIWQOHYpf3aLqaBLyS5y-vFtB1PiTOi4OprVWUqozyKbLVmqxtRoA8kFHtprmypO2qRQj2Lz7OohPLiuc3Eu-T-zXAZQ4k5MtXICvBZ3t/s1600/10410180_10152789542663364_7786581941740801116_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQywsHIkT-_J0cKANd1mLZkZ-9VyFeuLugDn_NIWQOHYpf3aLqaBLyS5y-vFtB1PiTOi4OprVWUqozyKbLVmqxtRoA8kFHtprmypO2qRQj2Lz7OohPLiuc3Eu-T-zXAZQ4k5MtXICvBZ3t/s1600/10410180_10152789542663364_7786581941740801116_n.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hout Bay</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVbIaUZmfsgtUrICLt2SJWsIgbfrqGe-l8-O2NxhuyO2hIKRcYMClYXItVfCpyIhFLBRNPe11OtFfKpwI65zKal5xOsjH__nBylvBbAf53SA_0w60KKThHO9mOQkrBsNQwHDHdx57-LyoQ/s1600/11091270_10152789542553364_2766603148303086834_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVbIaUZmfsgtUrICLt2SJWsIgbfrqGe-l8-O2NxhuyO2hIKRcYMClYXItVfCpyIhFLBRNPe11OtFfKpwI65zKal5xOsjH__nBylvBbAf53SA_0w60KKThHO9mOQkrBsNQwHDHdx57-LyoQ/s1600/11091270_10152789542553364_2766603148303086834_n.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">View from those homes must be dear </span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCKK_Ac4gSqXRbVDFzu2GZVoAiYy8A4MTPp4muuiDTGld2KXHFcItnR1fdzTGViDgfAXkDBoTUxNcZ6EfLHEOHu_2n8wOz2Avj_e1VkB5kVzt_qGTTWb8kfR-G9UGuml4y-1SspbPt8uHL/s1600/11146477_10152789542448364_1881943467317706059_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCKK_Ac4gSqXRbVDFzu2GZVoAiYy8A4MTPp4muuiDTGld2KXHFcItnR1fdzTGViDgfAXkDBoTUxNcZ6EfLHEOHu_2n8wOz2Avj_e1VkB5kVzt_qGTTWb8kfR-G9UGuml4y-1SspbPt8uHL/s1600/11146477_10152789542448364_1881943467317706059_n.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Love the colours </span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_pA6bDoQmuisC_kHZDF6N2MzzjKq0_N6Fd3cV2b41te2tv6mv3F6GBbDCeYIKpILOoUZSBL5clG_42m3pataoaEFHHPb7Th_FFuNf-y0H2nJavjJa-0bcezQq2tTqfq8K6kfUcHpFnBXo/s1600/10410427_10152789542348364_281904506696216161_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_pA6bDoQmuisC_kHZDF6N2MzzjKq0_N6Fd3cV2b41te2tv6mv3F6GBbDCeYIKpILOoUZSBL5clG_42m3pataoaEFHHPb7Th_FFuNf-y0H2nJavjJa-0bcezQq2tTqfq8K6kfUcHpFnBXo/s1600/10410427_10152789542348364_281904506696216161_n.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Picturesque </span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgusfP4nLwo4x69OuPkcTRpQn9rFrbwPBgT4s5hAfHyQaOJHGEfVL8PcGQe2I355hW_QnCXBk7pCRexEUgXEBwh2bVTVdVuE9RMOvlJWBvSZLpmA5P3xWjFssuJOSw3-78zHOgtpm2rcRTO/s1600/IMG_1546.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgusfP4nLwo4x69OuPkcTRpQn9rFrbwPBgT4s5hAfHyQaOJHGEfVL8PcGQe2I355hW_QnCXBk7pCRexEUgXEBwh2bVTVdVuE9RMOvlJWBvSZLpmA5P3xWjFssuJOSw3-78zHOgtpm2rcRTO/s1600/IMG_1546.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nice, white sand.. </span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">While at it, we also tried several meats. I had grilled zebra and offered some to a German couple beside us. The hub went on a spree of crocodile, kudu, warthog and mapone (caterpillars). He liked kudu the best, comparing it to lamb. Zebra was like a cross between mutton and beef. The vendor gave me a mapone to try but I couldn't bring myself to chew on a big, fat worm! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">It seemed to me like the city was late to rise and early to bed. The shops and markets opened up much later than the given time. Vendors began shutting down an hour before the actual closing time. It was a hurry when it came to grabbing souvenirs. </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">The local products are lovely. Bead that and bead this, and being a bead junkie, I was spoilt for choice. Just too many things to choose from. At the end of the day, I bought a few nice accessories and bagged many ideas for my own beading projects. Yesterday, I made a little dragonfly pendant using pearls and wire. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My new hair. I will keep it for a few days before I let them free.</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4AANiz0NQexpU_r3r-f0DDzTMRUtFSckbhyDwcde3WUTKtFQgEILGDijSpdpEKokWAzZu5_n3_OsTnuPppojxr7R-dOjbt8tZwm5F_99K0M583slK-wHa77d0GAZXR8iBpv8pANWzpvJJ/s1600/19494_10152795547203364_3770433931222505335_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4AANiz0NQexpU_r3r-f0DDzTMRUtFSckbhyDwcde3WUTKtFQgEILGDijSpdpEKokWAzZu5_n3_OsTnuPppojxr7R-dOjbt8tZwm5F_99K0M583slK-wHa77d0GAZXR8iBpv8pANWzpvJJ/s1600/19494_10152795547203364_3770433931222505335_n.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dragonfly pendant from pearls and wire</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhURBxVa4IqUcTuV4v98KKluwptes_dGNgccCkfGXHWbJDtp1c_5PR8Q2UPTa7IMSmDnZZ2a1U2efWhFkoUVhVB64Rxi78UseMW4n6yPuSl7HM6ybC0Ufxo_MPeymhFRU4l5O62hWxzLAwU/s1600/IMG_1792.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhURBxVa4IqUcTuV4v98KKluwptes_dGNgccCkfGXHWbJDtp1c_5PR8Q2UPTa7IMSmDnZZ2a1U2efWhFkoUVhVB64Rxi78UseMW4n6yPuSl7HM6ybC0Ufxo_MPeymhFRU4l5O62hWxzLAwU/s1600/IMG_1792.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Something for myself: A pair of earrings by a local designer using tiny seed beads.</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Africa is just so that beautiful and blessed. I don't know if the people of Africa know it well enough. A few I met said to me that they'd like to leave the country and see other places. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">"Travel when you have the chance. You can go anywhere in the world. You'll come back and still think, all of this is far more beautiful," I told a local girl who seemed a little jaded with her life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">"Take care of your Africa for me. I will be back," I told every person I bid goodbye to when I exited the country. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I am not done with Africa just yet. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">xx </span></div>
JJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4777133027139902974.post-67014352683765692752015-04-13T05:42:00.002+08:002015-08-04T19:48:49.378+08:00South Africa: Where Dreams Come True<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">OF all my travels, I had the best one last week in South Africa. Africa is officially my favourite continent in the world and I vow to travel parts of it in the years to come. Our trip began with a brief stay at Johannesberg for the night before we were whisked off to Northeast where we stayed three, wonderful nights at a game lodge. It has always been my dream to experience an African safari so the main agenda of this trip was the Kruger National Park. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What can I say. It has been the most interesting few days of my life among the lives I've only used to read about, watch in documentaries and imagine in my head. Over the days, I've had a frog half the size of my pinky jump out of my hair, suffered various insect bites on my face, avoided bee stings (although I've been stung half a dozen times before), walked about after dark to my room so fearful thinking that I may be in the way of the hippos in the lake outside my room and watched a man shiver right next to me due to a scorpion sting. But I've loved these adventures so much. Much more than jumping off that plane or visiting iconic and historic landmarks around the world. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Kruger Park was to me a dream come true. Making it much more interesting with live commentary was our guide/ ranger Shoes Mathebula. A Shangaan Tsonga, he was born in Kruger itself. His family has lived in the park from the time Kruger was declared a national heritage in the 1920s. They were the last of people to evacuate Kruger in 1989 when Shoes was 10 years old. While taking us through the park, he showed us the burial site of his late grandfather. Shoes' late father was a ranger too and was instrumental in setting up the Satara camp at Kruger. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">When the family moved, they lived just outside of the park in Orpen where his father had acquired a piece of land. You can say it's in his blood. Shoes' understanding, knowledge and great respect for the nature is astounding. After leaving school, he studied at the Southern Africa Wildlife College, also known as the greater Kruger due to its unique location in the park itself. Kruger wasn't just his playground as he grew up but it was also his practical field when he studied. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">As to how much this man knows his stuff was evident when we passed by a vehicle with a bird-watching couple in it. They've been sitting with their binoculars and bird reference books for a while to figure out a bird. After approaching them, Shoes drove further front, looked up at the creature perched right on top of a tree and got back to them. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"See page 79 in that book, the second para. It's a Bataleur. A young one, that's why the colour isn't fully developed yet". </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Just like that, the couple was astonished and so were we. That deserved an applause the couple said, and we gave him just that. Turned out, our tent at the Phelwana Game Lodge where we stayed was also called Bataleur. We knew then what Bataleur was all about. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Shoes has set up our breakfast at the Timbavati picnic spot at the park</b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqUYgbUe0JrA0qFaBWoFmNvUc8PsYOPn09_8LnwPxHS1bLVdIs8uFfdqOk-y6agTu-JwMAevpzDjTyk9VEJO3WuMPQ7GO63WHUczbfOAO-GK0aYw1XKUHhrbzhCZphQiZhM0YlzfGYRuiu/s1600/11146275_10152791411748364_2085599888605171721_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqUYgbUe0JrA0qFaBWoFmNvUc8PsYOPn09_8LnwPxHS1bLVdIs8uFfdqOk-y6agTu-JwMAevpzDjTyk9VEJO3WuMPQ7GO63WHUczbfOAO-GK0aYw1XKUHhrbzhCZphQiZhM0YlzfGYRuiu/s1600/11146275_10152791411748364_2085599888605171721_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><b>Shoes is checking up on these lion spurs. Fresh, adult ones, lion has gone this way.</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">With Shoes, we were able to experience some of the best the park had to offer. I learnt how to spot the differences between a fresh and a day's old lion spoors. We learnt to wait and watched a large herd of elephant crossing, adult male lions feeding on their prey which was a Cape buffalo, the much poached rhinos, wild dogs which are becoming increasingly rare among many other wonders of savannah (countless giraffes, zebras, wildebeests, impalas, springboks, kudu, baboons, hyenas, jackals and more). I was particularly overwhelmed when we were surrounded by at least 500 Cape buffaloes, left and right in the vast savannah. It was simply surreal. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Shoes commentary on wildlife behaviour was spot on. It was like he had rehearsed with them before taking us out on the ride. For an example, he was able to narrate the heavy duty that fell on a leading male's shoulders in a herd of female impalas just as we watched the drama unfold before us. </span></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">He says something and they play it out. Ridiculous! </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>A random wildebeest</b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNxQ_sJurP3kIib7m6uW3TOZgW7D6c8Mw4_848_mlbamVvZO4GZ9VNbDJlgWG9lDl0BO7RIrr45_Xl5JJQr17gB7dO8BT6hL7a3kM_FWNRDkkLHYvprTm2Nz39tGz4JDhTccpI-4-lP8PL/s1600/IMG_1435.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNxQ_sJurP3kIib7m6uW3TOZgW7D6c8Mw4_848_mlbamVvZO4GZ9VNbDJlgWG9lDl0BO7RIrr45_Xl5JJQr17gB7dO8BT6hL7a3kM_FWNRDkkLHYvprTm2Nz39tGz4JDhTccpI-4-lP8PL/s1600/IMG_1435.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Female impalas</b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigr4SNzwxFnrMR6YEzEfaBcZaiww7mHoBL_upnJ06SHMyjVoDVbQ40tw9S0evOFP_NGm9o_evhL5zdIoMns76crR1QYW7ZHJNG3rV8LTwyvWyKGc727_GM1Dha84cqq0we_7U3gB7nVCSR/s1600/IMG_1434.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigr4SNzwxFnrMR6YEzEfaBcZaiww7mHoBL_upnJ06SHMyjVoDVbQ40tw9S0evOFP_NGm9o_evhL5zdIoMns76crR1QYW7ZHJNG3rV8LTwyvWyKGc727_GM1Dha84cqq0we_7U3gB7nVCSR/s1600/IMG_1434.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Elephant crossing</b></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Back at the lodge, we had the Big 5 too except for the elephants. Just outside our private tent were the hippos. During the day, there were giraffes, kudus and wildebeests that made their way to the lake as well while we watched them from our personal pool. During our last night, I was kept awake all night by the hippos. They were growling ( I think), splashing away in the lake and it was just like 15m away from our bed! </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>The view from our tent room</b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Complete with a private pool</b></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">I left that part of the holiday with a very heavy heart. I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. It was perfectly perfect. </span></span><br />
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JJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4777133027139902974.post-59633154715195353532015-04-02T06:14:00.001+08:002015-04-02T06:42:48.592+08:00Grey Weather <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">IT'S like a scene from a horror movie outside. The weather department did warn us of the storm but at this intensity, it's something I've never experienced before. At 65kmph, the wind is howling angry. The air is thick with dust that I can't see my neighbour's house. I could taste sand particles in my mouth and nose when I was at the balcony earlier. Why, I'm on the sofa now and still get a strange smell in the air. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Times like this, I really don't mind a thunderstorm instead. Visibility is off, the roads are equally messed up, it's not safe to be out and there're flood possibilities. But at least, during and after a thunderstorm, the air is clean and everything looks new and hopeful again. I walked into the bathroom and ran my finger along the bathtub. There is already a layer of dust. The hub had just washed it earlier. I could see a coat of grey matter on the brown TV cabinet from where I am now. This is just in the city, inside of an almost soundproof building. I cannot imagine what it must be like in the open desert. The sight of the changing dunes must be phenomenal but how does anyone survive it? Sandstorms feel just so much more devastating and disastrous by the very nature of it. It's probably my only grouse about living in the sandpit. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm thinking of all the neighbourhood kitties around here. At this compound, we have about 10 stray cats. The neighbours feed them and have even gotten some spayed. Compound policy allows for no home pets but we feed and care for them outside. In this bleak weather condition, I wonder where these cats would be taking refuge in. I read about how a black cat had turned grey in an earlier weather report. Must have been a hilarious sight but at least, it had a home to return to. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm so hoping that the storm ends sometime by tomorrow. Traveling in this weather condition is worrisome, whether it's by land, water or air, and we have a plane to catch in about 24 hours. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I tried getting pictures and video of the storm but it didn't translate well. I might try again during the day when I could get better photos. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">xx</span><br />
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JJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4777133027139902974.post-64512819004223201992015-04-01T20:27:00.000+08:002015-04-01T20:34:58.723+08:00Time <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">And it's April. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">In four days, my mom turns 59. We celebrate our 7th wedding anniversary on the 5th and on the next day, the husband inches closer to 40. At this phase in life, time is something I have plenty of yet I'm losing it at a pace I cannot justify. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Today, I'm missing my mom and dad pretty bad. I don't think I've spent much time being with them even when I was with them. There was always school or they were working. But we lived together, ate dinner at the table every day and spent Sunday evenings as a family. </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I measured time by school year and every year seemed like a lot of time then. It felt like I owned forever. It felt like the dame old tree was old while I bounced in eternal youth. It felt like I was going to school my whole life and eating dinner together at home. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">But the years never missed a minute and still caught up with me: it was time to leave home. My parents wished me well and sent me off with pride. I wasn't living with them but I was less than three hours away. There was the distance but it didn't really stop me from visiting and spending time with them as I liked. Physically, I was there for them whenever I sensed that they could use the company of an offspring. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Living at a different time zone now, I no longer have that privilege and it tugs at my heartstrings when I have all the hours in a day to deliberately think about it. I go back twice a year and stay on for 3 weeks. Time spent is of fine quality but it's not the same. I don't have that chance to care for them physically, look into their finer needs and create that space and energy as time catches up. How much time do we have? Maybe it's more for my wholesome being than theirs? Maybe I'm selfish. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">It's about time I realise that the dame old tree is going to live on to see more generation of youths, </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">disillusioned</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">by the concept of time. Also, don't be deceived by tree years. It's like comparing human years to that of dogs. Against trees, we are dogs. </span><br />
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JJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4777133027139902974.post-8505509851595002392015-03-21T18:29:00.000+08:002015-03-26T06:12:59.280+08:00Healing With Essential Oils <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">OILS and I go a long way. My mom used a lot of oil on me, growing up. As a teenager, baby oil was my go-to daily face moisturiser. I didn't know then what I know now about synthetic oils but it worked for me. In my early 20s, I fell in love with pure essential oils. I was introduced to the world of Culpeper during work. Then, I was gifted a 50ml bottle of jojoba base oil with two precious bottles of 10ml rose and geranium essentials oils courtesy of Culpeper. I was set for life and I've never looked back ever since. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Over the years, I have depended on and dwelled solely in beauty oils. Recently, I've started learning about healing through essential oils. It's been a huge eye-opener for me. Essential oils are just not skin deep, they're simply so much more than that. The potent substances extracted through steam distillation from various shrubs, flowers, roots, skin and seeds could have incredible healing powers when used with sensitivity, respect and knowledge. It is also very important that oils used are 100% pure, free of chemicals in the whole process of deriving it starting from the soil and planting. An adulterated oil can cause harm besides having no therapeutic effects. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">With much reading and research, I've discovered something for hearing loss. It's in the essential oil, Helichrysum. There have been some wonderful testimonials in which individuals with hearing loss have regained all or partial hearing through daily application of this oil. Interesting and hopeful, I've just placed an order for Helichrysum. I've known Helichrysum as Immortelle, which is used in cosmetics and marketed for its anti-ageing properties. Discovering it for hearing loss is a surprise for me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Helichrysum is typically used for blood clots, skin conditions, circulatory disorders and arterialsclerosis. It is also known to regenerate nerves. So it may work for sensorineural hearing loss where nerves in the inner ear are damaged. The essential oil, however, does not work for hearing loss caused by damaged middle ear bones. In my previous post about <a href="http://jayagandi2010.blogspot.com/2014/10/blinding-deafness.html">my hearing loss</a>, I was told that I had otosclerosis, a condition in which hearing loss is attributed to the faulty middle ear bones. Months later, I learnt that my condition is more consistent with sensorineural hearing loss. Turned out, I was misdiagnosed by the first few doctors I saw. </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg747pjq5TnM1XCtc-vjMEg4UJD1EBJqQCeloNAsfjSi5pIsm36zAOak7ZqKxYvT7GXRWWB96rgMQrPzd6gP3ZG9UGKejJCydsuk4G4s971zRnpEBKHRLlFGp9_Px1DpNw1EhH3fnj8ASZK/s1600/IMG_0530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg747pjq5TnM1XCtc-vjMEg4UJD1EBJqQCeloNAsfjSi5pIsm36zAOak7ZqKxYvT7GXRWWB96rgMQrPzd6gP3ZG9UGKejJCydsuk4G4s971zRnpEBKHRLlFGp9_Px1DpNw1EhH3fnj8ASZK/s1600/IMG_0530.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Loving these essential oils</b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday, I began my healing journey with essential oils. I don't have Helichrysum in my possession yet but I have the other oils which are to work along with it for the purpose. I've started applying 50:50 diluted Juniper and Peppermint to my left outer ear, twice a day; morning and night. </span><span style="font-size: large;">I gently massage my ear by pulling it upwards, sidewards and downwards, 10 times at each direction. I also apply some at the back of my neck. </span><span style="font-size: large;">At night, I also layer it with Lavender, neat. The side effect is that I'm sleeping well. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Let's see how this works out. I understand that hearing loss is a complicated condition. The situation may or may not improve but I suppose it's worth a try. The oils are wonderful to my volatile Cancerian moods in any case! </span><br />
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JJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4777133027139902974.post-40299960512268847242015-03-18T20:03:00.001+08:002015-03-18T20:15:51.115+08:00Berries and Petals <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">I baked a cake for a friend's birthday party today. More than the baking, I enjoyed icing this cake. It's a simple vanilla cake with vanilla buttercream. The idea for decoration comes from a <a href="http://www.goodtoknow.co.uk/recipes/539120/lorraine-pascales-raspberry-vanilla-and-white-chocolate-cake-with-almond-flowers">cake </a>Chef Lorraine Pascale made. It's a white cake with little flowers constructed from raspberries and almond flakes. So pretty and whimsical, just the kind of cake that'd make me happy if it was presented to me on my birthday. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I had so much fun decorating and re-decorating the cake while munching on berries, almonds and cream. I used red berries for raspberries as I found them to be more delicate for the flower effect. Red on white is one of my all time favourite combinations and not just at Christmas. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi00ie-QEVffkAiPfMH-wvANRVD3864HcChTFvZ7A1Lq-j6ktm5yzMFNtNP4b-SFVS5WX1q5Vdjx7otZUdh7yVtfPAmwrTKzbCY55ew1iqld_qBqee_f_UaLOBpY-sWZnvUFJapGe16L923/s1600/IMG_0500.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi00ie-QEVffkAiPfMH-wvANRVD3864HcChTFvZ7A1Lq-j6ktm5yzMFNtNP4b-SFVS5WX1q5Vdjx7otZUdh7yVtfPAmwrTKzbCY55ew1iqld_qBqee_f_UaLOBpY-sWZnvUFJapGe16L923/s1600/IMG_0500.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>The final look. Whimsical. </b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyz2sPTnJNzh_1oysrx_bR4NYjF-YAQKaWg_UIazIVh5ku9QzAbLhGwH4gcphQDulTthwgNPRW1XmNqyDeNM3wBDSY9cv8L4LW4wlk1R4N9gbYaFhLIcMMvtO6QCr5-G85Q8q_L1lv3rxt/s1600/IMG_0496.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyz2sPTnJNzh_1oysrx_bR4NYjF-YAQKaWg_UIazIVh5ku9QzAbLhGwH4gcphQDulTthwgNPRW1XmNqyDeNM3wBDSY9cv8L4LW4wlk1R4N9gbYaFhLIcMMvtO6QCr5-G85Q8q_L1lv3rxt/s1600/IMG_0496.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />I started off with a scale-like design along the side. Since I had some extra buttercream, I decided to continue a row on the top too. With the space left on the face, I constructed a few flowers. When done, I stood back and didn't like what I saw. Too messy. Too much going on for a smallish cake. I felt claustrophobic just by looking at it. So, I carefully de-constructed the flowers, flattened the bumpy designs and filled the entire face with just flowers. That is all that's needed after all! </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2NqTClTOSWDWTIiq9D3XVc_TEsYNkRJo6snb2v0GY-nqkGGQw0ELsWJR9V6Dycr6adq5zgrE2yhY1qg2Jw8zTbKbAKbDGE0eZVphrbYnCxwdLkPJ8-r3HDdmLJVBvSf3vq34x0sdPYdPT/s1600/IMG_0484.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2NqTClTOSWDWTIiq9D3XVc_TEsYNkRJo6snb2v0GY-nqkGGQw0ELsWJR9V6Dycr6adq5zgrE2yhY1qg2Jw8zTbKbAKbDGE0eZVphrbYnCxwdLkPJ8-r3HDdmLJVBvSf3vq34x0sdPYdPT/s1600/IMG_0484.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Messy disaster</b></td></tr>
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JJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4777133027139902974.post-69134500497414525712015-03-17T05:49:00.000+08:002015-03-17T07:10:36.163+08:00Milk Of Amnesia <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;">FLIPPING through some food sites, I came across an interesting recipe for an alcoholic beverage. The writer calls it the Milk of Amnesia. At first, I thought I had read it wrong but there it was again. Milk of Amnesia. The article soon broke into a series of pictures of how it's done. Fresh milk is used with sugar, vodka, oranges and lemon. The combination is left to ferment for 10 days after which it's filtered and ready to go. So, the pictures went from a milky, gross concoction of floating citrus to an end product of something that represented a clear, golden liquid much like a fine icewine. Elegant and sophisticated. I was curious and drawn to it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Lab coat on and ready to experiment. That night, I cut some oranges and a lemon, threw them into a jar and dumped in sugar, milk and when it came to the vodka, I realised I didn't have any. I went through my little closet bar a few times but all I had were bottles of various vile-flavoured vodka, not the ordinary one that I needed. What now. The milk and citrus were already mixed. Just as I was pondering on plan B, I caught hold of a bottle hidden far back. A tall, clear bottle of Sagatiba. I could work with that. The end product may even catch some of the delicate flavours of the Brazilian rum. Got that into the jar and the fresh combination tasted divine. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwD5UY4oLiB9rfp2VJQUQqXLzkkLYdlRtyG_Ba5rau4MJwOJNL7AmcCr3ggEV9kpepPozcH6iSiDlm33gARHOt9VhOA8k9BBfoK7TLPahqbJ9fXufOdW7Gggye8-yP3oOct3_Y8_IMEUd5/s1600/IMG_7213.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwD5UY4oLiB9rfp2VJQUQqXLzkkLYdlRtyG_Ba5rau4MJwOJNL7AmcCr3ggEV9kpepPozcH6iSiDlm33gARHOt9VhOA8k9BBfoK7TLPahqbJ9fXufOdW7Gggye8-yP3oOct3_Y8_IMEUd5/s1600/IMG_7213.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Milk, citrus and the rest. </b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The flavours continued to develop daily. I couldn't wait as I lifted the lid daily for a quick stir, to mix things up a little bit. Finally, came day 10. The first filtration was done using a colander. This separated the solids from the liquid. The latter was yellow tinged, creamy white liquid bursting with citrus flavours and alcohol that traveled the mouth like wildfire at first sip. In the second filtration using a cheesecloth, the liquid came out golden but not as clear. Disappointed, I left it stored in bottles for a week till I filtered it again using a coffee filter. This time, it happened. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Golden, gleaming and beautiful. On the palate, it's full-bodied and flamboyant with hints of honey and sugarcane. Maybe also a little like an icewine that's gone somewhat flat. Best to have it chilled. There was a distinct flavour of citrus on day 10 as compared to a week later. But the alcohol effect is not compromised. More than a few sips and you're bound to experience amnesia yourself! It will get you hammered, this Milk of Amnesia. I don't see myself drinking the very sweet, alcoholic beverage but I'd make it again for house parties. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs9jJ61x4xvU6cGFjB8ynXHmO-vrwbrzV8cOQTlUv7mpV5k_k5Dw1-tfbWH4nXlJAp4LPHy14Cxv1pdM-1VS8V7aFEuM5_McJ0d9cnRKJ7FgIWSoe97lHowvIonkOBYLC0vEEWn6OcWOLv/s1600/IMG_7502.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs9jJ61x4xvU6cGFjB8ynXHmO-vrwbrzV8cOQTlUv7mpV5k_k5Dw1-tfbWH4nXlJAp4LPHy14Cxv1pdM-1VS8V7aFEuM5_McJ0d9cnRKJ7FgIWSoe97lHowvIonkOBYLC0vEEWn6OcWOLv/s1600/IMG_7502.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Golden and clear. Final product. </b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">To make this, you'll need: </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">2 cups milk</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">2 cups sugar</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">2 oranges </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Feel free to experiment with portions and ingredients. </span></div>
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JJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4777133027139902974.post-41490225718356685792015-03-15T05:18:00.000+08:002015-03-15T05:25:32.950+08:00Paddling In Doha<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">TWO weeks ago, we took part in a dragonboat festival: Qatar's First Dragonboat Festival. Our training had started t</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">wo weeks before that,</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">and I felt fabulous for many reasons. One, I was able to enjoy and take part in sporting activities despite my ear and hearing issues. Two, it's a water sport. It's a team, water sport in the pristine waters of the Qatari coastline. Thirdly, I've been in an international dragonboat festival in 2011 and therefore, to be part of a second event in a different country is an exciting prospect. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">First week training was excellent. I was made the front pacer along with our team captain. Our job was to set the pace for our team of 20 paddlers. Paddling came naturally to me although when spelling it out on a paper, it always came out as peddling. I think people just went with it because they didn't want to embarrass the writer. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">In the second week, we were trained harder by a new coach. The wind and waves doubled the intensity of our training. It wasn't easy as the first session but it gave us a rough idea of what it might be like during the competition the following week. The weather forecast did predict a higher wind velocity for that day. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSIrYEYnGfivZ9jOeBx6is57UPwmb-x1EFPIe7mnCrzlzXMPz66yB94rwm35AQKGaLuSekOEc2qcq4RPNDuEdcg0Eav99K6x62Xrontl_jMTZo5L1r3Ae99rnQLxq1E-p_QlWg3rF8mcOz/s1600/blue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSIrYEYnGfivZ9jOeBx6is57UPwmb-x1EFPIe7mnCrzlzXMPz66yB94rwm35AQKGaLuSekOEc2qcq4RPNDuEdcg0Eav99K6x62Xrontl_jMTZo5L1r3Ae99rnQLxq1E-p_QlWg3rF8mcOz/s1600/blue.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Week 2 after-training selfie</b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">You'd think it's the paddling arm that may hurt after a session. With the right techniques, the arm shouldn't hurt as much as the butt. I was butt-hurting on one-side so bad, and I have a naturally well-padded butt. I couldn't begin to imagine what it must have been like for the butt-skinny paddlers. One paddler later told me that she had been paddling before but had stopped for a while due to a bad buttburn. As in, she had an open injury to one side of her butt. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJX9QFmQvZR9sbjMWUtYLtezNbhzyR4UC2-juNflz4sororn0g7alVs7HbT_KyN5pu8e5bXu1J8GzgGo-73aLSvk3lDdzw6y1U7hlHzNBdcCRNM64IVxvsoWJVeXrA7Xeu8ygIS2rEXrPc/s1600/group.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJX9QFmQvZR9sbjMWUtYLtezNbhzyR4UC2-juNflz4sororn0g7alVs7HbT_KyN5pu8e5bXu1J8GzgGo-73aLSvk3lDdzw6y1U7hlHzNBdcCRNM64IVxvsoWJVeXrA7Xeu8ygIS2rEXrPc/s1600/group.jpg" height="315" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Our full team although one on opposite site is cut by half!</b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Competition day was fantastic. Grand Hyatt Doha opened up their private beach and facilities for the competition. We were set up in teams in tents on the lawn, overlooking the blue beach. It was like a holiday with a bit of competitive sport in the picture. We raced two races before the finals in which we came second in the Gold category. The first race was tough. Against three other teams in choppy waters, we struggled and came second. Having more confidence and experience, the second race was still a struggle but we were completely focused and came first which earned us a place in the Gold category. Teams were placed into four categories of four teams each, based on the time </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">from the two races. The Gold category is second after the Platinum. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHt6TyqEB4sZ9L0kyIUjR6G86wLqzGInS8kVYyrQC9hPr7dX3uaYViFl8PkbjlCeIrNgvswlVTNWixPcWQKQfX7ttKJE7ydWeOG-gvi2UpNuvMDQBK0QEiXtCdYYIu8abPFTl_uMZIncYW/s1600/ggg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHt6TyqEB4sZ9L0kyIUjR6G86wLqzGInS8kVYyrQC9hPr7dX3uaYViFl8PkbjlCeIrNgvswlVTNWixPcWQKQfX7ttKJE7ydWeOG-gvi2UpNuvMDQBK0QEiXtCdYYIu8abPFTl_uMZIncYW/s1600/ggg.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Our team is paddling to the starting point before the race began.</b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Physically, I was feeling distracted and fatigued on the competition day. A few days earlier, I had experienced vertigo attacks. A sort of sudden imbalance due to my hearing loss. It was pretty bad and came as a shock. I don't know why or what had triggered it but I was very disturbed, disappointed and desperate at the same time. I cancelled attendance to my daily bootcamp sessions, rested and got on medication, positively believing that I'd be well by competition day. Thankfully, I woke up on that Friday morning without feeling like the walls were dancing around me. Sure, I wasn't in my best form but very happy that I was stable. It was a day worth fighting for. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">xx</span><br />
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JJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09615777330854552040noreply@blogger.com3