I’m ready to let you go 2015

Blogging has become a by-product of free time and less of a hobby. And clearly, free time is not frivolously thrown around especially not during ice hockey season coupled with year-end work deadlines.  This hobby has become less of one and more of a dedication that I will/may resolve to upkeep... next year.  Haha, just joking!  Really, I know better than to make promises I can’t keep.

2015 has been a mixed bag. Early in the year, I’d learnt that my best friend in Junior College was battling aggressive brain tumor.  By the time the news reached my ears, cancer had altered her personality and changed her into an extreme form of her usual outspokenness.  I was warned that she was not the same generous person but had become paranoid and combative.

She was never the wall flower from day 1 when I met her and our friendship was always fiery; never a dull moment there.  So, when I heard that she had become an extreme version of herself, I mulled and dragged my feet over visiting her even if I knew that her condition would only see her through no more than 6 months.

My reasons were weak and plenty.  She was my best friend all two years at Junior College and then a couple more years after we moved on to different continents – me to Australia and she to the UK. She was that kind of friend that kept my secrets, listened to my fears and rejoiced over accomplishments over shared trips to her favorite ice cream shop. Our letters, once fast and furious, started to thin. We started growing apart from sheer distance. New lives, new friends and new excuses. 

She’d passed away on 29 October (Singapore time) and true to spirit, her hearse arrived to the catchy tune of ABBA’s ‘Dancing Queen’. As I said, she was not a wall flower and obviously not a stickler to social norms.  The few days leading to her death, I was distraught and my mind, scattered.  I struggled with accepting the inevitable -- never seeing her again. There was nothing I could do that could change the course of nature.  So I put my thoughts and feelings on paper in the form of a goodbye letter.  Her husband read it while she was, by this stage, restful and unconscious.  My letter made it the day before she passed on and I believed she heard every word; It was a small comfort.

Last night I dreamt of her and in my dream, she was standing beside me and I’d only noticed her presence when I looked into my bathroom mirror. She was smiling and I threw my arms around her, hugging her joyously.  All the emotions that I struggled with from the day I’d known of her condition to her very end, came back only to be awash in bitter joy.   

2015, I’m ready to let you go. You haven’t been the most kind to two devastated young girls and a heartbroken widower and several likes of us who all miss her dearly. But I will learn from you that --albeit cliché-- life is unexpected and I should not take my loved ones for granted. I am reminded that sometimes shit does happen to the best of folks. 

I'm ready for a fresh hand. 

They weren't kidding about Munich's beauty

 

Germany has never been on my bucket list of  'must see places before I die'.  I can think of Socotra Island being very high on my list and anywhere in the middle east, somewhere in the middle of the list would be the Czech Republic, Italy (only because of its food) and even the poop littered streets of Paris, France.  But never Germany.  Why would I want to visit a place known largely for a man responsible for toasting Jews and ethnic minorities, and its allegedly humorless people? Whatever the case for my lackluster interest, Germany just didn't grab me.

If it wasn't at the suggestion of my previous customer who'd requested for my help on his project -  throwing Munich into the pile to reel me in because I hemmed and hawed, reiterating how overladen my current plate was - Munich would never have fallen under my radar.

Me: "Sorry, I don't think I have the bandwidth for your work E."
Customer E.: "I'm throwing in travel to Munich."
Me:  "Munich? Really?!"
Customer E.: "I have $$ ($$ is usually and universally a good sign when getting onto projects.  There is nothing worse than being on a project with no money to spare.)
Me: "Sold!"

So, over the next few weeks, I had to check that my other customers were ok with my imminent absence.  As lady luck would have it, I was done on one project, which freed up a wee slot, and although I had another banging at my door, it didn't need my immediate attention. I was good to spend 2 weeks in Munich. The good thing is that my customers are fairly accommodating and willing to wait for me. What luck!

And of course, if it weren't for my dear supporting husband who'd heroically stepped up to the challenge of being Mrs. Doubtfire, this trip would have fallen flat on its face.

It turns out that Munich is very much like Japan.  Everything I love about Japan, the Germans are very much so - they are organized, orderly, the streets are clean and safe, the city hums like a well oiled piece of German precision engineering and the locals are respectful and helpful. What sets Munich apart is the European architecture - impressively ornate and artfully constructed. Simply, Munich is a lovely piece of eye candy, once you've had a taste, the sugar rush sends thrilling highs. It has turned me into an addict; I adore Munich! And it turns out those stereotypes of Germans having no humor? So wrong! The few that I met had a dry sense of humor right up my alley.

There isn't much I have to describe about Munich that hasn't been covered by travel books and blogs so, I'm offering the city through my camera lenses - be it the dinky toy iPhone or my old canon. (The hubs denied my bringing along my super awesome Canon 5D for fear that it would be stolen.)

Here goes, and in no particular awesome rating order.

I'd just checked into my hotel and peered out my window.  My eyes were assaulted by this stunning sight. Cobblestone path and historic buildings -- Munich, you have already whetted my appetite.



Peek-a-boo! I see beauty.



The famous Neues Rathaus/ New Town Hall in Marienplatz. You can't miss this Bavarian awesome-ness.  
 

Another angle of the Neues Rathaus/ New Town Hall.   How badass amazing is this? I stood beneath this tower and basked in its beauty for several minutes of low hanging jaw silence.

I can't remember where I took this but it is proof that there was art in every nook and curvature.
 

Really Munich, you are killing me here with the art pornography in every step.

Do you know how many photos I took of Athena on this Maximilian bridge? Lots. She was hard to capture right. And the rule of thumb is always capture women at their most flattering angle.  The first time I captured her was on a cloudy day, and then the next time under the harsh afternoon sunlight - her face always darkened. I would have been pissed too.  I waited till the sun was setting that one Saturday evening and rushed out just in time to see her glorious stature as the sunlight hit her and the building in the background in a favorable glow.  Somehow, this photo still didn't do her any justice. You just had to be there.

Every morning and evening, I rode Munich's public transport - tram 19 and bus 265 from Pasing.  It cost me 6 Euros for a single trip ticket or 15 Euros for a 3-day ticket riding any combination of trains, trams and buses.  Either way, it was my ticket to sight seeing the city and riding with the locals - a great combination of being a tourist and mingling with the commoners. It took me an hour and half everyday to get to work which meant I had to factor that into my waking time.  But it was worth an early waking hour because tram 19 took me on a scenic route through the city.  Be it  drizzle, cloudy or sunny, it was always a ride that made me want to do a Julie Andrews style (in 'The Sound of Music') yodel for joy.  

 

OK, so that's me taking a picture in a car. I lied about taking public transport EVERY day.  Nearing the end of my trip, I hitched rides with my project manager's boss's boss.  I was happy to spend the money on a commuter's ticket but seeing that it seemed rude and standoffish if I didn't accept the offer to ride into work, I did the sterile highways.  Trust me, it wasn't a yodeling experience but one time, I spotted a photo-worthy picture -- crazy rider on his funky bike. Actually I lie again because my project manager's boss's boss spotted him -- I was possibly passed out, drooling in the front seat from the lack of sensory pornography.  Now, I would never tempt fate like that riding in what seems like a precarious position AND without any safety gear.  But the dude is German and so is his bike. That just means they are engineered to be indestructible. Period.  
 

Indestructible German dude could have ridden this cute red vespa but no. I didn't see too many vespas on the road but I did see several bicycles, like the ones behind. If I lived in Bavaria, I would be riding a bicycle too.  My bike would be outfitted with either a recycled wooden cart or a straw basket and I'd look the part of cuteness with my scarf, booties and belted trench, just like the rest of the frauleins.

All that rich German food needs to be burnt off on the bike, ja? So that you can devour crispy pork knuckle and potato dumplings smothered in rich full fat gravy. Try spotting fat Germans..... not as easy people!



Check out these Bavarian lads in their cute lederhosen pants. Spot the fatty.  Didn't think so.

This was the stairway to my Munich retreat.  I walked up this flight of stairs for 7 days straight - heavy laptop and books laden bags and heavier steel-capped-toe ankle boots - that should get me the perfect Brazilian booty, ja!

Only the Gods looked heavy compared to the diminutive people they kept watch over.  Isn't this couple sweet? Looks like new love.

And more of that same lovey-dovey here at the Englischer Garten.  I watched this couple jointly latch their endless love on the bridge.

 

I wonder if Oguz and Mojgan have stood the test of time like their fiery lock?

I have a fascination for depth and lines. I like lines. Lots of it.




I did say I liked lines, which makes this doubly fascinating. The Germans paired what appears to be remnants from a historic building with practicality -- the aged arches lend beauty to the modern covered walkway --  function and style, and a whole lot of awesome! These Germans keep surprising me at every turn.

 

Only part of the Bavarian skyline at dusk.

 

The city in black and white. Positively charming. I've placed a mental lock of love for us, Munich. It's you and me, forever. 

 

 

I'm an Ice Hockey Mom

“My name is Julie, and I’m an ice hockey mom.”

It is true and laughable. Who knew that being born merely 137 kilometres (85 miles) north of the equator and having lived +/- 20 years in hot and humid Singapore would make me embrace a sport that would subject me to the cold for extended periods? This is the same kid who grew up feeling nervous about taking nightly showers because at the back of her mind, she would hear her mother’s warnings about catching a chill and thereby suffer rheumatism at old age (which would be anytime now).

I spent all late autumn through winter this season exposed to the relentless upstate NY cold but was never alone and always with other die-hard ice hockey parents. Evidently absent were rheumatism-savvy Asians.

I did no cheering in the beginning. Perhaps lots of cursing under my breath on days when standing in Corning’s dilapidated outdoor rink in 15-20 degree F. weather, coupled with wind chill, would burn right through my 3 layers of hand wear (cashmere glove, silk lining glove and wool fingerless glove) and thick soled leather shoes. I couldn’t muster a cheer but spontaneous clapping would occur mainly to keep my hands warm. I wasn’t there for the game; I was only there so that my kid knew that I was being a supportive parent. And also so that I could criticize his playing when he got home. Ah, the joys of being a pretend ice hockey parent.

Ice hockey was a natural progression when we returned to frigid upstate NY for my kids who started roller blading in Taichung, Taiwan when they were wee 4.5 and 3years of age (Sean and Monique, respectively). But travel ice hockey was a whole different ball game. We weren’t nearly as prepared for this level of commitment. Sean was training 3-4x a week, the weekends were always packed with at least 2 games; some were home games and others were(at most) 2.5 hrs drive out of town. I didn’t always attend the games at the start but the hubs noticed that the times I did, Sean would try harder on the ice. That was enough reason for me to show up and play the part of hockey mom.

My kid.

Watching his team on the ice was always exciting and it was my conversion process. These kids are skilled and nimble footed. And when contrasted with their bulky body gear and full face helmet, makes the game quite interesting. Ice hockey is not about brute strength – although at pro-level, the on-rink fights are brutal, if not, gratuitous. One of Sean’s team member, a praying mantis sized girl who is all body armour and helmet on the ice, is possibly the best skater on the team. She is swift, sure-footed, and holds her ground against boys tons bigger and taller than herself. Watching her back skate while defending the goal post makes my heart sing. Whoever said ice hockey was only for boys obviously hasn’t seen this lithe girl on the ice. She’s convinced me to want the same for Monique and Sophia.

The only girl on Sean's team --sure footed and steady against bigger opponents.

Our lives during ice hockey season were a complete whirlwind. Our Saturdays and Sundays would whizz by and I’d pick up the pieces (chores) during the week just in time for another weekend of ice hockey mayhem. As chaotic as it was short lived, the week after the season wrapped up, the hubs and I landed on our feet, disheveled and disoriented, we went back to our predictable weekends but missing every second of the insanity.

I received an email just the other day, well weeks after the season, from a parent with 4 ice hockey kids too who took the thoughts right out my head, “I’m still cold. But being cold watching Little League is far less exciting than being cold at an ice hockey game.”

I completely understood.

The way we were .... in 2012

I'd promised some photos of the family and found plenty from our Nicaraguan trip over last summer.  Yes, there were photos aplenty but not all were picture perfect.  Just try getting all 4 kids looking and smiling into the camera at the same time = near impossible.  Plus, the longer I subjected them to standing still under the Nicaraguan heat, the whinier and more annoying they became.  I ended up lowering my standards and allowing my pictures to show 2 goofy looking kids as opposed to one, or preferably none.  

"N(one) of these things is like the other"




Capturing Sean is difficult, he doesn't always smile for me. This is a rare picture.

Sound the alarm, trouble is here.

Instances of sibling affection should always be captured. The next moment is always a wild card.

Capturing the hubs is an even bigger challenge. He almost never smiles, hates posed smiling (I have to agree). So, I'd rudely point my camera at him while he was in mid-speech just so that I could capture him in mid-genuine smile -- like this picture. Me likey.

Another attempt at a family shot. Only one grumpy kid in there, pity about the shadows.

Spot my volcano climbers.

I cringe seeing this picture and taking it was hard. Seeing my baby sitting on the hubs' shoulders and peering over the edge spooked me.

I'd rather she posed with fake vegetables.

Just some of us.

This was the best of 3 pictures. One had the hubs' head sliced off and the other was pure blurry. But there, all of us in this one.



Excuse my cheesy smile but this was the most promising of the "couple" pictures.  Credit to Monique, I think.

My water babies.

The next few collages are compilations of Nicaraguan scenes. 

Street scenes taken in Granada and Leon.

Scenes taken from the crater rim.



Student demonstration was so lively and entertaining that you'd forget that it was actually a protest march. 

Granada and Leon churches' interesting and burnt facades are from revolution.

I had all good intentions to post a blog on our Nicaraguan trip but I'd taken vacation time during a very packed work schedule.  So, upon our return, I was swamped with catch-up work deadlines. I'll sum it up quickly here:

Dirt poor 3rd world = check

Eye candy for photography = check

Eye-opener for my sheltered kids used to first world order and structure = check

Eye-opener for my sheltered kids that there are kids out there hungry and begging for food; and they really shouldn't be complaining about how their mother's food taste yucky = check.

Friendly and helpful locals = check

Locals have great sense of community and pride = check

Great way to brushen up my defunct Spanish in a hurry = check

Would I return = hell yeah!

That's all folks, hopefully 2013 will be a lot more photogenic.



2012 Creative Round-up

I spent the last week thinking about… nothing. And I liked it very much. ‘Nothing’ meant that I didn’t have to think about work; ‘nothing’ meant that my head was free of stress – no worrying about upcoming deadlines-- nada.  This didn’t mean that I didn’t have the usual holiday craziness to handle, Christmas shopping, putting food on the table and keeping the routine cogs greased to keep the house, kids and hubs running.  But not thinking about work felt very good.

I had some time to think about my ailing blog and realized that 2012 didn’t give me much opportunity to put my camera to good use. I went through all my pictures for 2012 and sadly, realized that there were only the obligatory pictures of my kids’ birthdays -- yawn. I realized I didn’t have enough punchy photos to add to my blog for a year-end round-up.

I did, however, find a stash of artwork/interesting notes that I’d kept aside in some flimsy folder waiting to be put away.

Did I tell you that I’m at that stage where arty creations are looming near extinction in my home? Sophia (the 5-year old) is the only prolific artist now.  Inbetween learning to spell and having an innate love to create, I am constantly doted on. This afternoon, she scrawled yet another affirmation, “ I love my Mom. She is nis (nice). She is Funne (funny) She is good.”  One day, these creations will completely vanish (try spotting my 11-year old creations in my top 10 list below) and (might) eventually be replaced by some ho-hum Hallmark sentiment.

I’ve compiled a few to share because they are all entertaining and a window to those little mysterious minds that I call my own but yet feel they are some hybrids with only vague snatches of personalities from the hubs and myself.

I present to you, my top 10 list of my children’s creations:

The best of 2012 

#10. Dear Santa

This is fresh artwork from 2012 Christmas. Sophia and Monique each left a note for Santa. Sophia’s was more a fan-based drawing while Monique surprised me with a simple request of getting Santa to fix her favorite bedtime toy’s eyes. No long list of  "I want this and that toy".  I guess she changed her mind when she scratched out the "Ipod"!

Score:
Charmingly sweet and endearingly childlike: A+


Sophia's fan drawing



Monique's wish for Christmas

#9. Christmas special

Monique didn't compile a Christmas wish list but she surprised me by playing Santa.  Everyone in the family received a little gift – either handmade or bought with loose change that she’d earned from the tooth fairy. The gifts were not lavish but this was truly the case of the thought that counts.  It meant a great deal to me that she’d thoughtfully picked a gift to suit each of her siblings’ needs: a colored pen for Aidan; a bookmark for bookish Sean, crayons for draw-a-holic Sophia and even a little bag for a bag and shoe lover me.

Score:
A selfless Christmas: A+.



Aidan's gift from Monique



My gift from Monique




Sean's gift from Monique

#8. Little ambitions

I never had one at 4 years old but evidently, not little American kids. They are introduced to the idea of having aspirations.  Never mind if most are pipe dreams and/or strike fears in their parents but they are encouraged to dream. I think the idea of dreaming for wee ones is a wonderful thing since coming from sterile (cough, read: boring) Asian upbringing, this seemed refreshing.

When Sean was about 4 years old, he had set his sights for great things, so great that it was deemed a sure fail.  Kids his age wanted to be a policeman, a truck driver or Spiderman. Not my Sean.  Spiderman’s powers weren’t impressive enough.  No, he wanted to be a “big blue whale”.

So, I should be delighted when Sophia’s end-of-pre-school ambitions were a little less ‘big’.  My daughter chose an actual profession – a Dentist.  I’d found it amusing since I was half expecting a Sean-styled answer or a least in line with her classmates’ dreams of wanting to be a “Mother” (poor kid that one), a race car driver (wrote a little boy with a scientist Dad), a rockstar (says a conservative friend's kid). No.  Sophia went with boring and sterile; the very thing that would impress any Tiger Mother before she'd purged that very idea to make way for “Doctor” or “Surgeon”.

Score:
Good chuckles inducer: A+

#7: Anger management

If world domination was a profession, I’d say that my 9-year old is in the running. She is the proverbial little girl with the curl. When she is good, she is very, very good. But when she is bad, she is worse than awful. Monique would make a fearsome dictator; that skinny framed girl houses a fiery temper more suited of an ogre.

Tired of reprimanding Monique and wanting to understand her uncontrollable anger, I made her pen down what ticked her off. To her credit, this letter was insightful if not a little scary. My daughter is capable of self-awareness alright but thank god she isn’t the protagonist in Stephen King’s ‘FireStarter’ or there will be hell to pay!

Score:
Self-awareness and eloquence at age 9: A+

#6. Take note, Mr President

If anyone had the personality to be a leader, it would have to be Aidan. He marches to his own beat to the point of being reckless; a total risk taker. Yet, kids and adults seem to warm up to him. He is the kid that adults find amusing; but they shake their heads as they suppress their chuckles, grateful that they don’t have him as their own. Woe unto his poor parents.

But Aidan is innately big hearted and I’ve yet to find a mean bone in his body. He came home one day with this piece of artwork amidst Election 2012 and it made me proud. His generosity extends towards the under-privileged – “make pelpe (people) pay more taxed (taxes)”-- and as much as I would hate having to pay higher taxes under his governance, as a mother, I’m proud to say that he has his heart in the right place.

Score:
Big-hearted generosity: A+



#5. Forgiveness

Maybe one day Aidan will be a leader but until he learns some self-restraint and heeds consequences, I fear he’d become more leader of the wrong band. But this doesn’t mean he isn’t repentant when his mistakes are pointed out.  Plus, he doesn't ever bear grudges. This letter below was contritely written after he had (ironically) decided to use the back of Monique’s ‘siftikit’ (certificate) of excellence for Art to draw on.

Score:
Spelling and grammar: C+;

Character strength: A+

#5. A spoonful of sugar

The older I get, my life seems more complicated.  Kids are never complicated but bringing them up can be. It is like being in a maze where there are promises of fruitful journeys but some are wrought with pitfalls. This is when being a kid and taking life at face value magics away all worries. On days when I feel burdened by unnecessary stresses, these 4 simple words is all the medicine I need.

Score:
A feel-good boost: A+

#3. Happy Family

Every family should have walls plastered with artwork of blue skies, humongous butterflies and happy family members.  My 5-year old Sophia started off with jellyfish-like family portraits in 2011 (she was 4 then) but these days, her drawings are taking more realistic shape where she’s sized everyone accordingly as opposed to influence in her life – that means, I’m no longer the large blob on the paper anymore. Sadly, I do miss being a large blob.

Score:
Family portraits: A+, better than static air-brushed photos.



2011: "Mummy, Daddy, me, Aidan and Monique" (she left Sean out because he isn't her usual play companion)




Dec 2012: Family portrait. We are a welcoming bunch and aren't fraid of oversized butterflies.  

#2: Caricature

The last 2 entries are equally entertaining in my hidden criteria.  I award high points for oddball creativity (sits well with my warped sense of humor) and/or for observations otherwise missed by adults. This hand drawn plastic egg was a Christmas 2012 gift to the hubs.  It humored me greatly because eggs with funny faces are incongruently funny; plus it had a pop-up bubble of an overused expression in our house, i.e., “Eat your food!”

Score:
Oddball creativity and clever use of recycled materials: A+

 #1. The little people are watching

The unsuspecting top creative piece, in my mind, has got to be Aidan’s journal entry.  As part of class practice, he and his mates have to write a couple of sentences describing their weekend.  His teacher then compiles the weekly class writings and they are sent home with the kids.  Aidan’s weekly entries are mostly mundane and they go straight to the recycling bin though not this one.  This one was too insightfully poignant and funny!

Score:
Amusing insights: A+

Well, there you have it, I hope you’ve enjoyed my compilation.  I’ll be on the look-out for more interesting pieces to post the next time.

Happy New Year everyone!