Thailand and the Chinese tourists

In order to have something to look forward to at the end of our Florentine week, the husband has very sweetly booked a short break in Phuket, yay! He knows how to spoil me :D
Tired, absolutely unprepared but excited we make our way to Thailand on a Wednesday morning.
All goes well and we are welcomed in this beautiful hotel in the south of the island by its own beach, we check in and relax! Marco falls asleep pretty much instantly (admittedly we got up at 5 in the morning) and I do my challenging exercises (that I am more and more sure won’t improve my look but just damage my back..).
An hour later we hit the beach, looking forward to our break by the seaside 😃
There is no loungers on the beach, we are given towels and a plastic mat, which is ok, we are soooo thrilled to be there. Half an hour later I am deep asleep on the mat, covered in sweat like a mermaid (well, this is how I like to picture myself 😜).
The sky is cloudy, but I don't care and I go for a swim (or dip, however you want to picture it) in a darkening but still inviting sea.
It’s all good; we decide we don't need to take too much in, let’s take it easy and tomorrow, first thing in the morning we come down to the beach and we go a bit further down where you can rent loungers for the equivalent of 5 pounds a day, for 2!
In the evening we go to the hotel restaurant for Thai food, delicious even though not very traditional. Satisfied and happy to have booked a day to James Bond island we go to bed just when it starts raining.
The morning after is raining, consistently and heavily, through breakfast (which is by the way AMAZING), through lunch and all afternoon.
Nonstop. Until the day after.
We try not to get too much affected by it, we stay by the bar of the hotel overlooking the sea (people more desperate than us are actually swimming), we read, relax, sweat. The humidity is unbearable. It bring us all sort of creatures, geckos, flying ants, and massive flies are everywhere and don’t hesitate to get close to us even though we are sweating out all the DEET we are covered in.
The day after a bus comes to pick us up for the tour, yay!
We go to a pier to get a speed boat. It is still raining but we find a very entertaining distraction: Chinese Tourists.
And possibly the classiest in the whole world. They occupy an area with sofas and chairs just behind us, and without any consideration of being in public they sit in all sort of positions.
We start taking selfies of us in order to capture their poses in the background. 
(PLEASE try not to look at me, just focus on the people behind us!)

Here we go, the day has brightened!

The speedboat comes and I am sitting right under the hole in the tent above, it’s raining at speed on my head. I hate when it rains on my head. I can’t even describe how much I hate it. I 
By the time we get close to JB island, the rain easies and we are able to enjoy the scenery and dry up a bit.
No words to describe the natural beauty. It’s breath taking!
Too many tourists though. Too many selfie sticks, groups, children and vendors.
It is actually a bit sad that the ability of seeing places has been lost, I am as culpable as everybody else. Everything is watched and experienced through a phone or a camera in the best case.
The selfie poses are hilarious, from the Russian lady with a perfect body (aaarrghh!) and a flower in her head (fake boobs though), to the Chinese fat woman in a nonsense pose with arm sleeves.

This is not only reason for laugh with incredulity, it is all good experience, learning and a more open mind.

We are ecstatic. We loved the James Bond island and we cannot wait to go back and explore more of Thailand. Phi Phi island is on my list, as well as Krabi, Bangkok and the rest of the country.
Back at the hotel after the killing exercises (supposed to eventually give me the body of a 20 years old) we go for a swim at twilight, the sky is patched with dark clouds, but with some clear spots too, the lights of the hotel are illuminating the palm trees and the beyond green vegetation. Pure bliss. (I am also learning to enjoy everything, without getting to obsessed about the lack of sun, which usually is the main thing I want).
The day after is cloudy, humid like hell and miserable. We spend the day by the pool and dip into the sea just before we go and pack our bags.
The sun comes out, just when we enter a taxi to the airport.

ONE year in

Our first year in Singapore has passed so quickly that we have not yet had the chance to acclimatise.

Time is flying and I am not happy about it. I am aging at the same pace.

This past year we have travelled a lot, especially in Japan and Korea, seen amazing places, met wonderful people, tried all sorts of exciting (and not) delicacies, re-encountered old friends, missed friends, missed the families, established the “bestie” relationship, drunk loads of wine, champagne (mainly travelling Singapore Airlines) and sake, eaten too much MSG and too few vegetables, got rid of socks, got a more decent skin tone (less corpse-like and more human), found out I can actually sweat, seen paradise on earth, changed job, experienced solitude, answered some very funny and weird questions, realised the importance of my bimby, missed M&S and Waitrose, got gold card membership and beyond, got stressed like never before, found a grand piano in my kitchen (not my piano, and temporarily not my kitchen), got a new nephew, celebrated our first wedding anniversary, missed my mini pretty much every day, got rid of my glasses, accepted looking like a lioness most of the time, got used to living with damp armpits, got used to being either too hot or too cold (never ok), had my first pedicure, bought a couple of gorgeous swimming suits, received a Burberry for my birthday, and a Prada for Christmas (from different people in case you are thinking about the extravagance of the expat life style), done pilates in a park in tropical weather, walked 24 Km in Kyoto, cycled under a thunderstorm, felt appreciated, felt like a bitch, got very annoyed, very happy, very emotional, very emotion-less, woken up many times by thunder (and got fucking scared when the husband was not responding to my prodding as he was sleeping deeply through one), read a unique series of books and felt totally empty when I finished them, became addicted to Netflix, achieved first Level in Chinese language, put a picture on my desk, found a dead cockroach under my desk, worked my ass off, felt absolutely mad and incredulous, started drinking milk in coffee, started using linen sheets, applied for British residency, didn't get British residency, applied for British residency again, started talking with an old friend after more than 10 years, wrote an unprecedented number of PCMs, got my first ECG (almost got confused with EGR, doh!), became used to telling taxi drivers which way to go, felt frustration like never before, missed fireplaces, took LOADS of FaceTime calls, bought new furniture, became a landlady, lost weight, put on weight, wore out clothes and shoes, shopped for summer clothes (every time I go shopping), used litres of mosquito repellent…

I could go on forever, but figured I will need to leave something for year #2.

The adventure continues. Week break now, for an Italian wedding; we will be back in Asia very soon.

What's so wrong with tiramisu?

We ended this week with a dinner with a car manufacturer customer, in a high end restaurant overlooking the marina that spins slowly. 90 minutes for one rotation. A high end place with a high end menu and a high end price to boot. Our guests were Asian and American, and we, the hosts, Asian and European.

The soup course. I recognised some of the food as I ate it...sometimes chewing quickly, sometimes choosing not to chew and not to think too much about what I was not chewing. I saw pondering on the faces around me, a furrowed brow, a question forming, and then asked.... "What is this?"

I had my mouth full, with the last of my bowl.
Don't answer, just don't answer
"Fish stomach in chicken broth"
I thought it was fish bladder. Still....
Swallow, drink wine, think of chips.

Other courses came and went. Those more visually paltable were eaten in silence. Those that were more local in appearance were challenged. Didn't see many non-Asians clean up the abalone. I did of course, it was delicious. I thought it was a meaty mushroom....it was served with rice and was very mushroomy in taste. No, apparently it's a sea snail.
Tasty or not, it's a snail.

A. Fucking. Snail!

And at the end, never had before, birds nest!
Consisting of birds nest, egg white and coconut, served as a warm broth in a coconut shell.

"Why is it called birds nest?"
It tasted ok. Don't answer, please don't answer....
Because it's made from the nests of birds that are found in coastal areas. The nest is cleaned and then used in sweet soups as a delicacy, affording a delicious gelatinous base.

Roby ate slowly at that point. I focused on extracting egg, you know where you stand with egg. Comes out of a hen's arse but it's in a case that can be discarded.

Why does knowing what you are eating affect how it tastes? Thinking is over-rated in these situations, but can't be avoided. The focus in Asia is on the taste, but more so, on the best bits, on eating something expensive. Fish bladder or stomach is good for you, birds nest is high end and expensive. Fish cheek, fish tail, and it wouldn't surprise me, rats arse. I recall the technical summit in Shanghai in 2016 and how we left a beer hall, which had fried food and seats and above all shit-loads of beer, to go to an expensive restaurant where we didn't eat the expensive food that was on offer, because it wasn't fried or beer.
Was still a great evening, BPC knows about the best places, and we had fun. Ended the evening wandering around the funfair and Festival of Lights.

This morning, having finished our coffee and chocolate biscuits in bed, a lazy Saturday treat, Roby wondered out loud what would be wrong with a dessert of tiramisu. An espresso to go with it. In this apartment Asia is outside; we venture out and experience it, and then lie here amazed that we tried it, ate it, swallowed it...we even bring it in sometimes, but we westernise it.

Roby misses tiramisu. I miss sticky toffee pudding. I think we will do our bit for nature and henceforth endeavour to leave the birds nests where they are, for the birds.

Miss this... a lot!

Snapshot of my daily life

It’s been over 10 months now that we live in Singapore, surely the cultural shock should have been over by now but I am still surprised by the inappropriateness of certain questions and comments from people.

It happened again last Friday.

I arrive at the office with my beautiful Maldivian tan and someone cannot help themselves and has to comment. The usual ‘mmmmmmhhhhh’ followed by a word, in this case it was ‘mmmmmmmmhhhhhh tan’, followed by something I did not get (to be brutally honest, I was not even that interested in it), followed by the word cancer and the fact that Hugh Jackman (Australian!) has a melanoma.

Immediately I think, WHAT THE FUCK and I want to touch wood, my left boob, (my testicles if I were a man) to avoid the bad luck.

How un-needed was that?

Especially as I am a well-known hypochondriac, and all of a sudden I start thinking about the fact that maybe we did get too much sun and in fact even burnt ourselves a bit and what I am left with is an unpleasant feeling of uneasiness and annoyance.

Nice welcome back after holidays!

 

Another time on the way to lunch I was asked with the most innocent expression ever whether I am "an alcoholic person". Ta dam! How can I explain to someone who drinks only water and sugarcane, that of course I am not. But of course I do like drinking wine, beer, prosecco, digestives, limoncello and all sorts of alcohols and that of course I do have days when I go home and want a drink. BUT of course I AM NOT "an alcoholic person". I should be outraged. What sort of question is this? Is it due to the sarcastic comment Marco put on Facebook months ago? UNBELIEVABLE (it does make me smile though ;) ).

 

Another time, I was asked how much I paid for my wedding, how much I paid for the hotel during holidays, how much I pay for my flat, whether I want kids, whether I pray to have kids. Whether based on my ‘achievements’ (still need to understand what achievements they mean) I consider myself a genius.

 

This is real life in Asia, cheers!

Le Maldive e i retroscena di una vacanza perfetta o quasi

Dopo 10 mesi passati al caldo e umido tropicale, io e Marco ci siamo finalmente concessi 5 giorni di mare bello, di mare che si vede in cartolina, alle Maldive.

Facciamo una valigia piccola, in fretta, senza sapere bene cosa portare, vista l’ignoranza in materia di vacanza al mare, mettiamo dentro l’essenziale: costumi, crema solare e libri.

Venerdì sera partiamo, e dopo una notte passata in un hotel piuttosto squallido non lontano dall’aeroporto di Male, sabato mattina prendiamo un sea-plane e andiamo in paradiso.

Le spiagge da cartolina esistono, le Maldive esistono e sono incantevoli.

Persino l’acqua del porto è cristallina e di un azzurro accecante.

Siamo felici e bramosi di relax. All’aeroporto siamo circondati da italiani, al resort ci accolgono italiani e ci ritroviamo in Italia senza nemmeno saperlo. Il che ci va benissimo, visto il numero di aperol spritz consumati in 5 giorni e la colazione italiana con cornetti e torte.

Ci danno un upgrade e la nostra casina nell’acqua è un sogno.

Senza indugiare ci mettiamo il costume, ci facciamo un bagno scendendo dalla nostra veranda direttamente in acqua e ci addormentiamo beati sotto il sole.

Ci avventuriamo alla scoperta dell’isola, e dopo 5 minuti di orologio l’abbiamo percorsa tutta, rifatto un bagno questa volta dalla spiaggia e provato l’amaca nell’acqua, insomma si sta da Dio.

Torniamo a casa a prepararci per la cena e perché no anche una seratina romantica, visto lo stress delle ultime settimane e di quelle che ci aspettano al rientro. Io mi rilasso, il che per una stitica incancrenita come me è un miracolo e uso il nostro meraviglioso bagno a contatto con la natura (aperto con doccia all’aria fresca).

Il water si blocca. Invece di scaricare, riporta su tutto.

Imbarazzata come pochi, rientro in camera e chiedo consiglio al consorte sul da farsi.

Riprovo a sbloccarlo senza successo. E non so come, e nemmeno perché, il consorte si inalbera quando decido di chiamare la reception, volendo provare lui stesso a sbloccare il cesso. Il che è ovviamente fuori discussione.

In qualche modo, tra l’aiuto dello staff, tra un aiuto divino, il cesso si sblocca.

Io mi preparo, andiamo a cena, con un muso fino ai piedi e a letto di spalle. Day 1 alle Maldive è andato.

Il giorno dopo, decido che non posso stare in un resort fighetto, di stampo italiano (e si sa che gli italiani alla forma ci tengono) e vado a farmi manicure e pedicure (che poi non resisterà nemmeno fino alla fine della vacanza!). Ci sto più di due ore! Due ore, che avrei potuto passare al sole a bruciarmi (anche se ci sono riuscita lo stesso e nonostante la protezione 30!). Dopo due ore riemergo contenta dello smalto viola e vado a casa, dove col consorte ci si scambia qualche parola a denti ancora stretti, per una discussione che non aveva motivo di esistere.

Il giorno per fortuna procede bene, tra sole, mare, aperitivo ed eccitazione per una nuotata con le mante!

E’ da un mese che in zona si vedono le mante e lo staff ha organizzato una escursione che decidiamo di fare con tanto entusiasmo. Ci affittiamo la maschera, le pinne e tutti contenti ce ne andiamo in barca veloce a cercare le mante. Dopo un’ora di ricerca in varie zone intorno all’isola, lo staff rinuncia e le mante non si vedono. Ripieghiamo delusi e con un forte senso di sfiga addosso sullo snorkelling, che per carità ci ha fatto vedere pesci splendidi e coralli di color tufo.

Va be’, la natura è cosi, imprevedibile. Del resto il giorno dopo (e ultimo di vacanza) si scatena un temporale da paura e forse le mante se l’erano sentito e hanno deciso di dileguarsi. Per consolarci ce ne andiamo al bar per il consueto aperol spritz che a questo punto è diventato un must.

Ci portano anche le pizzette, evvai!

Un pezzettino di focaccia ha il segno dei denti, di qualcun altro.

Che in un resort da centinaia di pounds a notte è inaccettabile.

E anche lo spritz va giù a fatica.

Ma noi ce ne freghiamo e continuiamo a fare il nostro, ben sapendo che la perfezione non esiste, e cerchiamo di prendere il meglio. Vogliamo vivercela sta vacanza, il più possibile, che già dura poco, e poi si ritorna a Singapore.

Facciamo la prova di respirazione delle immersioni. Ne restiamo ‘flashiatissimi’. Io ho scoperto uno sport meraviglioso e voglio fare un’immersione, ma ovviamente ci siamo decisi troppo tardi e con un volo internazionale da prendere, l’immersione va rimandata. A quando non si sa.

L’ultimo giorno comincia la sera prima, si scatena un temporale assurdo e la nostra casina tanto privata che guarda il mare aperto è in balia del vento e delle onde. Niente bagno il giorno dopo, colazione con il maglioncino, un po’ mi girano, mi aspettavo qualche ora di sole, ma poi egoisticamente penso che è meglio cosi, mi sarebbero girati ancora di più andare via e lasciarmi alle spalle una bella giornata. Ovviamente il sea plane parte lo stesso, nonostante il vento e ci ritroviamo in aeroporto circa 5 ore prima del check-in.

GoodBye Maldive, paradiso meraviglioso, resort bellissimo nonostante la stitichezza di shampoo e gel doccia e pizzette mangiucchiate.

Andiamo a farci un giro a Malè con una guida locale che parla l’italiano benissimo.

Amici stranieri, non è vero che l’italiano si parla solo in Italia, si parla anche in resort di lusso dove donnine di mezza età combattono il tempo a siringate di botox nelle labbra e a costumi minuscoli, cosi infra da non vedersi proprio.

Dicevamo, passiamo qualche ora in giro a Malè sotto la pioggia battente, che mi “sponza” i piedi e mi arriccia i capelli in modo inguardabile. Riusciamo a farci fregare in un negozietto locale e compro una collanina di ‘coralli’. Va be’ l’unica consolazione è che almeno contribuisco all’economia locale, oltre che a fare arricchire un europeo, padrone del resort.

Partiamo in serata, dopo aver mangiato un panino al Burger King (dopo anni di voluta astinenza) e torniamo a casa con la voglia ancora intatta di relax, sole e mare, il telefonino pieno di foto di un paradiso meraviglioso e non troppo lontano.

Eccoci qui a Singapore, dove il caldo mi rende i capelli ‘barbieci’ (stoppa pura, come una bambola, peccato non averci il fisico di barbie) e i pori del viso cosi aperti che sembrano boccucce di pesciolini in cerca di ossigeno in questo caldo umido da post-monsone.

Ora della vacanza mi restano i brufoli, che puntualmente arrivano dopo il sole.

E un ricordo bellissimo.

Io alle Maldive ci torno di sicuro.

So that was that then... wonder what happens next

Happy 2017!

As for the last weeks of 2016.....
Visit Stavanger in Norway for Christmas and spend time with Rosa, Mauro, Emma and Giorgio - tick
Visit Scandale In Italy for new year and spend time with Franca and Raffaele and Zia-Tere-Zia-Tere, Francesca and Franco and Giulia and Lara, not forgetting the chocolate-loving great grandmother, 96 year old "La Bis" - tick
See nephews and nieces and reinforce that I am the best uncle - tick
Get ill - tick
Make a lot of it, suffer greatly and obviously - tick
Put on the standard 2 lbs of Christmas Weight - tick
Bring back loads of food to offer us variety when we crave something that reminds us of Europe and don't want to pay twice as much as we feel is acceptable - tick
Get back to Singapore and discover the timer didn't work in the end, so the aircon has been on for 2 weeks - tick
Return to work and feel like you need a holiday - tick, tick, tick!!!

Yep. We are back.




Let's see what 2017 brings.