Four in a row?
I simply can’t believe it. When dropping by TK’s niece’s home in the Kew suburb of Melbourne, TK asked what I would like to drink. Water, please.
Then it happened. As she handed me my glass over the counter she knocked over her mug of tea which sloshed directly into my open handbag sitting on a high stool, soaking all its contents, plus the bag’s nylon material!
Even the currency notes were wet, not to say my Kipling wallet, some papers etc
The only consolation was that the tea was unsweetened and much diluted, that being her fourth mug, without changing the tea bag.
When I regaled TK with what took place in the week be4 I arrived in Melbourne — see http://singaporegirl.wordpress.com/2009/11/17/co-incidence-or-is-there-a-pattern/ — she replied in her usual short sharp way: “Have you ever thought you might be the common factor in all these incidents?”
Ouch!
Not very kind while I was still sorting out my soggy stuff to dry.
Thank goodness the Melbourne rains hadn’t started — yet!
PS this is written on her Mac desktop while she’s out at the library soaking up her day’s reading.
Co-incidence or is there a pattern?
Something happened within the space of one week at three lunches with three different parties made me wonder whether it was sheer co-incidence or there was a pattern to those incidents.
The first ”event” occurred at our regular group lunch at the American Club on Nov 6. There was something of a celebratory nature to it. A roast suckling pig and two bottles of top Australian wine made us all quite merry.
Convivial and full of gastronomic anticipation. Then TTH while helpfully helping to turn the lazy susan to let all have a better bite of the suckling pig knocked over my cup of Chinese tea. Thank goodness the tea marked just the table cloth but none overflowed onto my clothes, TTH’s or BN’s.
A few days later while I was reciprocating A’s meal with a treat at the rude and bochap Sophie’s — we love her food especially her shoba salad and so swallow our annoyance every time — A knocked over her water in a light-weight plastic cup which was perhaps asking to be knocked over.
Again, while the water spread all over the table, no damage was done to our clothes.
There was something eerily familiar when AC who was giving me a treat the next day at Itacho, the Hongkong sushi place at ION, spilled her bowl of miso soup.
This time there was some damage — to the trousers of an unknown gentleman (part of a couple) sitting next to her. (We were at the sushi counter because there was no table available and we were both hungry).
Although AC apologised profusely and the gentleman looked suitably gracious, not so his lady companion who looked daggers at both of us — as if we had engineered that accident!
Sake at Itacho sushi bar
What am I to make of these three liquid spills? Into our lives some liquid must fall, so long as the damage isn’t too much or not at all?
Or perhaps a better explanation may be this: the events are just random in this boundless universe, signifying nothing! <:)
Once more with feeling
How time flies! It seems like only yesterday that I had posted this in this blog as part of an omnibus of the various dishes I ate while eating out:
Nov 13 being the death anniversary of a good friend, one of the dearly departed’s good friends has been holding a lunch in dearly departed’s memory ever since 2006 –one year after dearly departed, departed. As usual, it was at dearly departed’s favourite eating place when dearly departed was around and made a point of having its food on a daily basis.
So there we were, people who used to eat regularly with dearly departed, gathered at Princess Terrace (also at King’s Hotel) to eat once more with feeling the Penang Nyonya food buffet that the restaurant has become famous for in the past 20 years or so.
My fravourite dishes at Princess Terrace are always the satay, nasi ulam, otak and dry mee siam neat (ie without any garnishings, unlike T-Shake Hut, now renamed Uncle’s Kitchen). Followed by the kueh kueh to die for, a sort of peranakan petite fours.”
I checked the post after going to this year’s gathering — again at Princess Terrace, but for dinner for a change.
It was with a shock that I discovered that the picture I took of the main part of my meal this year looked exactly like that of the food on my plate last year. This says how unchanging, how constant, my food tastes are!
- What I ate this year
Above is the picture taken this year. Now compare this with the picture taken at last year’s meal and you would see what I mean.
All about taxi encounters to & from Ascott
It’s a bad idea to hail a taxi along the road when in suburban Singapore and ask the taxi uncle to take you to the Ascott Raffles Place.
This was what I found when I asked picky Siti to go to the main road near our home to hail a taxi and get it to turn into our driveway to pick up mum and me from our lobby where we were waiting.
Normally I would have driven everyone to the Ascott but when I was informed by the residence that there were no parking facilities en-premise, I decided a taxi would be more convenient than driving there and parking at Hong Leong Building, a street away — for convenience, read “cheaper”.
Bad decision! Doubly bad decision was not to call for a taxi.
Siti waited on that Friday afternoon (Oct 30) from just be4 2pm to way past 2.30pm; no taxi would take her, always with some excuse. I joined her and it was several minutes be4 we persuaded a taxi to turn into out drive-way and pick up mum and our luggage.
Where do you want to go? The Ascott at Raffles Place. Where’s that? At Raffles Place. Never heard of it. You must have! The hotel just won a prize! You know the old Asia Insurance Building. Never heard of it…
I thought I was in a nightmare when I suddenly hit on a bright idea. I spelt out the name of where we wanted to go.
A.S.C.O.T.T.
The taxi uncle turned round to look at me scornfully.
Oh, Ascott. You say it wrong. It’s AS-CORT!
Advantage taxi uncle! It must have made your day. Silly me had pronounced it as though it’s the place for those races in the UK where the cream and curd of society turn up in hats and bowlers. I had pronounced Ascott as Ascot. Oh what a mortal sin!
All this silently within me of course as my mother hates to be caught in a row within the small confines of any place, let alone a vehicle being driven by a stranger.
Aloud I said to the taxi driver: Whatever. It’s in Raffles Place.
No, he retorted triumphantly. It’s in Finlayson Green.
All right since you know where it is, you go the way you usually go.
Mulut tak mumpus replied: There’s only one way to go! Then went into a long spiel about the route to take.
Muggins held her tongue, determined to stay silent even if I had to bite my tongue off.
It seemed ages but it couldn’t have been more than 15 minutes when we arrived at the little inset in the road and alighted to the welcome of the doorman of the Ascott.
Taxi uncle said: “Just give me $10.” Even though the meter said $10.20. OK, thanks!
Our next encounter with a taxi uncle was later that night when for reasons explained here we were heading for home again barely 7 hours after we checked in.
The hotel got the taxi for us and we quickly settled in, belted up even as a heavy drizzle threatened to turn into a storm, and we were on our way when the uncle turned back and stated, rather than asked: “To the airport!”
Startled and not sure I had heard right, I said: ‘Sorry?”
“Which terminal?”
“Terminal? Not terminal. We are going home. Newton Circus.”
“Not to the airport?”
“No!”
After a long day, I could be forgiven if I just tore my hair, shouted or worse — beat up the taxi uncle. But I managed to catch myself and mentally excused him. Won’t it be reasonable to assume that people checking out of the Ascott would be heading for the airport?
The next day’s taxi trip back to the Ascott saw us picking up a taxi very easily, the limousine type, some more!
But the driver looked and sounded like he’s out of a Hindi movie. He could be straight from Mumbai for all I know because he declared not to know where the As-CORT was; nor Raffles Place, nor Finlayson Green.
How did he get a driving licence for crying out loud!
Still the taxi was comfortable and the sky looked as though it would weep again. So I said with gritted politeness: All right, let me give you directions… you know Scotts Road, OK you go straight through and then….
Short, sweet and wanting more
at the Ascott Raffles Place but as i had indicated in my Tweets, the “wotever happens” happened and it had nothing to do with the prize which lived up to all I had been expecting.
But I’m getting ahead of my story.
On Oct 30, the check-in was smooth, low-key and friendly. The receptionist and a bell boy showed us up to Suite 1807 assigned as the 3-day 2-night prize-stay I had won in the Twitter re-tweet contest in September 2009.
Apart from the missing long bath, the one-bedroom apartment at the Ascott Raffles Place turned out to be exactly as the video link provided at http://www.the-ascott.com.sg/ASRP/ depicts. Still, that’s no loss as I think long baths are both dangerous and dirty.
Indeed Suite 1807 came with real bonuses. Besides complimentary Internet services (otherwise that would have cost $10 per hour), the suite had a large open deck or balcony opening from the bedroom.
As we were on the 18th floor (just one floor below the gym, swimming pool and guest lounge facilities), we had a bird’s eye view of what’s coming up in Collyer Quay.
Friends and family members who visited excitedly discussed the demise of the Neptune Theatre and what was coming up in its place while one recent alumnus from Societe Generale reminised about her old office at ORQ (One, Raffles Quay) whose twin towers acted like sunshades for my suite.
So why didn’t we spend even one night there? Why didn’t we max out the fully equipped kitchen- despite bringing masses of rice, we didn’t use the rice cooker –altho I’m not sure it was there, as there was no time to inspect the apartment fully; we didn’t even finish all the beer we brought and certainly didn’t try each of the multiple brands of 3-in-1 coffee that we packed. Even the snacks and nibbles were barely touched but the single bottle of Sauvignon Blanc did find takers quickly, because at 750ml, it wasn’t much to go round.
The reason we left boiled down to one simple fact: my mum. At her age, her ability to adjust has been reduced to almost zero. Her attention span is much diminished. Although she was as excited as me and her maid about the prospect staying at the Ascott, she wanted to go home almost as soon as we checked in.
It’s what I call the “I’ve seen it, now let’s go home” syndrome.
Her poor maid Siti, who was lapping up the luxury of the Ascott, tried her best to cajole Popo to stay, at least for one night. She wanted to sleep in a five-star hotel just once, even if others like mum has become immune to luxury and wanted only her own bed.
So she tried to distract mum with sweet talk while I dashed out for some food to create further distraction. Mum is the epitome of the old Chinese saying that when you are old, you care more about your stomach than your looks. Lau Pa Sat thankfully was just a hop, skip and jump away from the Ascott.
The food choices at Lau Pa Sat were mind boggling and gentle on the pocket. I wasn’t adventurous as I simply didn’t have time to browse. So I settled for three packs of dinner from the Mixed Rice stall and two large popiah rolls, all of which set me back for less than $11.
Back at the Ascott, two old friends rolled by after work bearing more food: a whole box of Korean grapes from ST and a large box of petite cakes from Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf from KY n ST.
Because everyone was hungry, dinner, washed down by a spot of plonk, cakes and chatter didn’t take us to much beyond 8pm when mum began the refrain again. “I know this is a home away from home but that’s for people who don’t live in Singapore.”
I can’t fault that logic and in the end decided to throw in the towel on just one condition: be4 we leave, let me try the shower, the great smelling shower gel from L’ Occitane and of cos the feel of the soft thick bath towel against my skin.
Thereafter, it was a whirlwind of cleaning up the apartment (didn’t want to leave a mess in case we didn’t come back the next day), repacking and frantic texting to other guests who were scheduled to drop by for a Friday night chill out after shows, late work or apres dinner. “Dn’t cme. M insists on going hme.”
It may sound like a comedy of errors but believe it or not, we were back at the Ascott by noon the following day after mum was convinced by my sister Daffy and her family to have lunch there — with food bought from nonya eatery, Ivin’s.
It was a good meal and the surroundings made it better but for those intending to use the Ascott apartments for a gathering, then learn from our experience: remember to bring extra crockery, cutlery and glasses as each one-bedroom residence caters strictly to only two occupants.
For us, we simply made do, as though we were on a picnic, with some drinking from glasses, others from cups; some eating with spoons; others with forks; using plates and bowls indiscriminately, so long as there was enough to go round.
Consolation: we ate from real china and drank from decent glasses, even if not using the correct stuff for the food and beverages; no plastic for us.
Once the meal was over, distraction time ended and mum wanted to go home again, much to the disappointment of her maid who really enjoys luxury!
This time, I stayed back. As my sister n family cld take them home and also, as other friends and relatives I had asked to come over for a “look see” were on their way and it would be too ridiculous if I were to text them with the same message: ”Dn’t cme. M insists on going hme.”
Four more sets of visitors dropped by, bearing food and good company. In particular, I must mention Juliana who — despite the rain, the thunder and that there was no parking facilities at the Ascott which meant she had to brave the elements in a nearby carpark –still managed to bring enough nasi lemak and otak from the Mackeral Otak people to last us not only for dinner that night but also for dinner at home the following nite.
And of course the inclement weather starting on Oct 30 evening was what put a pall on what would otherwise have been an A+ week-end stay, even with mum’s vacillating desire to go home to her own bed. (She did try the gi-normous bed in the Ascott bedroom but it was too high and hard from what she’s used to, which isn’t a criticism of what the serviced residence provided. Au contraire!)
Hence after the last set of visitors on my 2nd nite, with the sky still weeping intermittantly, I decided to call it quits and went home with my brother, his wife and an aunt. And not forgetting some freebies that I didn’t get to use, such as two tooth brushes and two small bottles of L’Occitane shampoo.
In retrospect, it might have been better if I had opted for an Ascott apartment in Kuala Lumpur. Being so far away might have deterred mum from being at her unreasonable — yet logical — best about wanting to go home.
Ascott Raffles Place here we come!
This time last week, I was all pumped up about “consuming” the prize I won in a Twitter contest by re-tweeting contest announcements by Ascott International.
To recap, I won a 3-day 2 nite stay at any of the Ascott Group’s residences in the Asia Pacific.
There were many to choose from, as the prize covered not only those under the Ascott brand but also those under its Somerset and Citadine brands.
For me, I first looked for the country: China was my preference in particular Ascott Raffles City in Beijing which had newly opened.
I’ve a thing about new places. I love them to bits.
But practicality kicked in as I wanted to share the price with my mother and her maid. Given my mother’s rather fragile health, it had to be something near home.
I toyed with the idea of Ascott Kuala Lumpur or Somerset in Bukit Ceylon, as I’ve a friend with a comfy car who makes fortnightly visits to KL. We could hitch a ride from her and then in KL we would be well taken care of by other old friends who all have four wheels, plenty of time and a great inclination to be generous hosts.
In the end, however, sensibility decided that it’s best to stay put in Singapore and sample Ascott Singapore Raffles Place, for the convenience of my mum and to share my win with more people, such as other family members and friends.
And of course there were bragging brownies in the fact that the owners of Ascott Raffles Place had just been conferred the Urban Redevelopment Authority’s Architectural Heritage Award for carefully preserving the unique features of Asia Insurance Building – once, gasp, Singapore’s tallest building and a 1950s heritage icon — while transforming it into its flagship premier serviced residence!
I like basking in others’ reflected glory! I’m that shallow! 
So there we were last Thursday night, madly packing all sorts of stuff to take with us to Ascott the next day, to make the temporary residence more like home.
So much so that my mother’s maid said tartly: “Ma’am, we are taking so many things with us, we might as well stay home..”
Beware what comes out of the mouths of maids, as I’ll reveal in the next post.
Over-charged 39X @ Fairprice
I had a bit of a shock when I heard the cashier announce my total bill at Fairprice @ HDB Hub today, Nov 3.
Yes, my trolley was full to the brim but I had bought no expensive meat or wine; mainly veggies, instant noodles, a few low priced cans of fish and peanuts, four packets of biscuits, and some bags of 3-in-1 beverages, with the two bags of Ovaltine being the most costly at $4.80 a bag. My fortnightly gifts to some oldies at Bendemeer Road.
Nothing that could justify a $93.05 bill!
Still I paid up and then parked my trolley to check.
My eyes almost popped out when i saw that I had been charged $30.47 for a packet of 3 carrots. For heavens sake, they were plain carrots; not organic or carats!
Went back immediately to the cashier to protest the incorrect charge. She was nonchalant and said that the scanner must have made a mistake.
I don’t know about scanner but this is what the price code on the packet of carrots showed and the item and amount boxed in pink were what was captured in the bill (below).
I got my refund but had I been less vigilant I could in one fell swoop have lost all my rebates and dividends from shopping one year at Fairprice.
I shudder to imagine if I were just a little illiterate old lady living on the margins having my public assistance wiped out by one scanner mistake and I won’t have been any wiser.
My experience should be an alert to all who shop at Fairprice to double-check their bills. If it happened to me, it could happen to you or your maids whom you send to shop on your behalf.
Popularity of St Teresa post a divine mystery?
There’s something of a divine mystery about the popularity of the post I wrote on last New Year’s eve.
A loss in the extended family led me to reflect on the power of prayers and more particularly the fact that some, perhaps many, of us regret it when our prayers are answered.
Or in the case of what happened in my family, the fact that when seriously sick people prayed to stay alive or get well — or their loved ones prayed on their behalf – and had their prayers answered, it also meant that some total stranger had to die to fulfil those desperate prayers.
That’s the other side of the ledger that few pay attention to, when praying for something to benefit themselves.
In that post, I cited the quote attributed to St Teresa of Avila that sometimes more tears are caused by answered prayers, with the tears flowing not only from those who got what they prayed for, but also for those chosen as the conduit to fulfil those prayers!
The tags I used for that post included St Teresa of Avila, Hota and Singapore Human Organ Transplant Act.
If anything, I had expected the search engines to direct visitors to my post via the tags “Singapore Human Organ Transplant Act” or Hota. After all, isn’t this the hot topic in Singapore this year?
But no, what search engines kept sending to my site were via the tags Saint Teresa of Avila, St. Teresa of Avila, St Teresa, etc. At least that’s what my blog statistics showed.
At first I didn’t pay much attention. Occasionally, some posts find 3rd party appeal for whatever reason; then, the interest would wane. I’ve written about such sleepers here.
But the way the St Teresa of Avila post continued to pop up in recent weeks, especially in recent days, as the most frequently read post, prompted me to do some investigations.
I tried Google, the most popular search engine. But when I typed in St Teresa Avila, I found that my post wasn’t in the first 10 pages with the St T link. And I doubt anyone looking for info on St T would have gone beyond that to find me!
So, I’m none the wiser as to whom or what’s clicking on that particular post. The fact is that something in the St Teresa of Avila post is making it the most active for the past day, the last 7 days, the last month, the last quarter and for the whole year.
At this rate, the St Teresa post may overtake my all-time top visited post of “Over-reaction to melamine in milk in China” before this year’s end!
