Sheipa National Park, Hsinchu
Winter 2006
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Gadget Girl
I'm a Gadget girl, in a Gadget world.
Memory sticks, life's fantastic...
Oh yeah, Houston, I have a problem. I'm totally into my gadgets and it's leaving me bankrupt and luvin' it. Well, almost bankrupt, but definitely loving all of it.
Between now and my last blog post on how I was infatuated with the Creative Neeon, then subsequently the iPod Nano (and yes I eventually bought one) , I've managed to amass a good number of high tech toys: a Panasonic digital video camera, an iLuv stereo docking system ipod, a Kensington remote control for wireless presentations, a Sony Ericsson 3G-cum-3.2 megapixel Cyber-shot lens multimedia phone, a Penpower Handwriter - a pen and tablet set for handwritten input, and a Creative 2-in-1 keyboard that has both computer and black-and-white musical keys on it.
Cool huh? You don't think so? Well, I think they're awesome... BUT still, not half as awesome as these items on my current MUST-HAVE list:
Good planning. Wish me luck.
Memory sticks, life's fantastic...
Oh yeah, Houston, I have a problem. I'm totally into my gadgets and it's leaving me bankrupt and luvin' it. Well, almost bankrupt, but definitely loving all of it.
Between now and my last blog post on how I was infatuated with the Creative Neeon, then subsequently the iPod Nano (and yes I eventually bought one) , I've managed to amass a good number of high tech toys: a Panasonic digital video camera, an iLuv stereo docking system ipod, a Kensington remote control for wireless presentations, a Sony Ericsson 3G-cum-3.2 megapixel Cyber-shot lens multimedia phone, a Penpower Handwriter - a pen and tablet set for handwritten input, and a Creative 2-in-1 keyboard that has both computer and black-and-white musical keys on it.
Cool huh? You don't think so? Well, I think they're awesome... BUT still, not half as awesome as these items on my current MUST-HAVE list:
- Sony VAIO TX56 - For surfing the net and blogging on the go. The free wireless@SG hotspots, its featherweight size (in laptop relativity), and the stylish carbonfibre (the same material that Ferrari cars are made of. I mean, how neat is that?!) casing are perfect reasons why I just have to get one to complete my wardrobe.
- Nikon Coolpix S200 - For taking 7.1 megapixel shots on the go. My current 3.2 megapixel phone camera and an antique fat bodied Sony Mavica is just not good enough for serious arty farty types like me. (Not the niftiest one in the market, but hey, that's all I can afford!)
- Nokia N95 - For its wireless internet connection and 5 megapixels Carl Zeiss Tessar lens. Now, now, before you start explaining how I do not need the N95 as the Vaio is wifi-enabled and the Coolpix is way ahead in terms of picture resolution, I must remind you, as a blue blooded gadget royalty, that the N95 comes with GPS and maps of various countries. Absolutely essential for survival in this time and age, and beyond.
- Apple Airport Extreme Base Station - Just its name alone is gratifying to any gadget enthusiasts. Of course, the best deal is that it allows me to connect all my toys wirelessly with each other, and with the internet. Need I say more?
Good planning. Wish me luck.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Cook My Sashimi, PLEASE!
I pride myself on being a self-made connoisseur of good food.
Misunderstand me not, for I am not a snobbish nor a fussy eater. I've had my fair share of plain tasteless to downright revolting culinary experiences, and I'm actually quite easily contented by simple, unexciting dishes on most uneventful days.
The only thing that makes me a real foodie is my unrelenting passion in finding out about and tracking down good food, wherever it may be. Suspicious looking street side hawker fare in Bangkok, classy Ritz afternoon tea in London, dingy diner breakfast in the States, I've conquered them all. Even in Singapore, I'd travel across the country (albeit a very small one) just for that great Hainanese chicken rice chili dip, or risk getting heat stroke by walking from Orchard to Botanical Gardens in the blazing sun for that rack of lamb roasted to perfection.
Alas, there is one big regret in this gastronomic pursuit of mine. That is, I absolutely hate raw fish. With this revelation, I have a strong urge to weep and bow deeply to the Japanese to apologize for my horrendous inadequacy. I sin, in the eyes of millions of sashimi lovers, each time I gag when I see or smell raw seafood on little wooden plates.
In the unfortunate event of me being force led into a sashimi restaurant, I would have to ask for flasks of hot green tea to wash the slimy fishy mess down my throat, half hoping that the piping heat from the tea would actually flash cook it in split seconds (well, it didn't, but it did cook my throat to a medium rare). If I get lucky, I might be able to get through the night by pretending to concentrate hard on creating the optimal mix of wasabi and soy sauce. Since I'm mostly not a lucky person, I've swallowed quite a variety of raw things (I still can't bring myself to say 'food') to date.
The most memorable (and coincidentally, also the saddest) experience I've had was the time I went to a yakiniku, or BBQ, restaurant in Nagoya. It was a dinner which I had been looking forward to, and it didn't disappoint. Not until the beef liver dish came up. If you know me quite well, you'd know that I'm really crazy about liver. Pork liver, duck liver, goose liver, chicken liver, whatever... At this juncture, I'm sure you're feeling really happy for me, but let me tell you that NO, one does not eat BBQ beef liver in a BBQ restaurant! You eat it raw. Oh yeah, red, dripping wet raw.
Thus, it is with greatest sorrow that I placed a slice of raw beef liver gingerly onto my tongue while miserably watching that lovely BBQ fire crackle in unknowing excitement. I cursed silently as the piece of liver french kissed its way down my throat. To add insult to injury, I had to finish the entire plate as I was sitting at the counter bar where half a dozen Japanese diners had their eyes on me, nodding approvingly at my valiant attempt. And it wasn't even cheap.
To this day, I am still bent on conquering my fear for all things raw, in a bid to become a true gourmet. Once in a while, I'd boldly try a slice of sashimi from my dinner companion's platter, but it will always end in the same fashion - me reaching out for my tea cup frantically just before I throw up.
So, minasan, give me shabu shabu, sukiyaki, tempura, anything. Just keep that sashimi away from me, unless there's plenty of hot green tea. Please.
Misunderstand me not, for I am not a snobbish nor a fussy eater. I've had my fair share of plain tasteless to downright revolting culinary experiences, and I'm actually quite easily contented by simple, unexciting dishes on most uneventful days.
The only thing that makes me a real foodie is my unrelenting passion in finding out about and tracking down good food, wherever it may be. Suspicious looking street side hawker fare in Bangkok, classy Ritz afternoon tea in London, dingy diner breakfast in the States, I've conquered them all. Even in Singapore, I'd travel across the country (albeit a very small one) just for that great Hainanese chicken rice chili dip, or risk getting heat stroke by walking from Orchard to Botanical Gardens in the blazing sun for that rack of lamb roasted to perfection.
Alas, there is one big regret in this gastronomic pursuit of mine. That is, I absolutely hate raw fish. With this revelation, I have a strong urge to weep and bow deeply to the Japanese to apologize for my horrendous inadequacy. I sin, in the eyes of millions of sashimi lovers, each time I gag when I see or smell raw seafood on little wooden plates.
In the unfortunate event of me being force led into a sashimi restaurant, I would have to ask for flasks of hot green tea to wash the slimy fishy mess down my throat, half hoping that the piping heat from the tea would actually flash cook it in split seconds (well, it didn't, but it did cook my throat to a medium rare). If I get lucky, I might be able to get through the night by pretending to concentrate hard on creating the optimal mix of wasabi and soy sauce. Since I'm mostly not a lucky person, I've swallowed quite a variety of raw things (I still can't bring myself to say 'food') to date.
The most memorable (and coincidentally, also the saddest) experience I've had was the time I went to a yakiniku, or BBQ, restaurant in Nagoya. It was a dinner which I had been looking forward to, and it didn't disappoint. Not until the beef liver dish came up. If you know me quite well, you'd know that I'm really crazy about liver. Pork liver, duck liver, goose liver, chicken liver, whatever... At this juncture, I'm sure you're feeling really happy for me, but let me tell you that NO, one does not eat BBQ beef liver in a BBQ restaurant! You eat it raw. Oh yeah, red, dripping wet raw.
Thus, it is with greatest sorrow that I placed a slice of raw beef liver gingerly onto my tongue while miserably watching that lovely BBQ fire crackle in unknowing excitement. I cursed silently as the piece of liver french kissed its way down my throat. To add insult to injury, I had to finish the entire plate as I was sitting at the counter bar where half a dozen Japanese diners had their eyes on me, nodding approvingly at my valiant attempt. And it wasn't even cheap.
To this day, I am still bent on conquering my fear for all things raw, in a bid to become a true gourmet. Once in a while, I'd boldly try a slice of sashimi from my dinner companion's platter, but it will always end in the same fashion - me reaching out for my tea cup frantically just before I throw up.
So, minasan, give me shabu shabu, sukiyaki, tempura, anything. Just keep that sashimi away from me, unless there's plenty of hot green tea. Please.
I Have a Sloth for a Sister
So where shall I begin?
Maybe with a disclaimer, just for my personal safety. For the record, it is in no way derogatory that I call my own blood sister a slow-moving arboreal edentate (meaning almost toothless, if you're curious) mammal that does nothing but attempts to finish chewing two leaves in its mouth before the sun sets... and rises again.
And if it helps, may I also emphasize that she got the lovely nickname from her husband, by absolutely no fault of mine.
Believe it or not, I actually find the term rather affectionate and quite darn cute. It never fails to amaze me how good my sister is in adopting such a surreal tempo. And pray, it is indeed amazing when you consider Ms. Sloth's most un-sloth-like past as an enthusiastic gymnast and athlete in her school days. Those were her golden days of many quick moves and nifty footwork. She could have been Ms. Puma then.
I'm not sure what exactly happened but somewhere down the line (after one marriage and many many pound cakes later), she morphed into what she is today - the human equivalent of a creature that moves so painfully slow that it may as well be in reverse. You'll have to watch her really closely or you'd think she stopped dead midway in her track. Meet her at the start of the day and you'd know what I mean. The true epitome of S-L-O-W.
To be fair, I not a quick person either. It probably runs in the family, where lazing around is a highly desirable pastime. It's just that my sister is at the more extreme end of the BUMMER spectrum. I've got a lot more to catch up.
To Yanni the most successful sloth in mankind and the glory of our family!
Maybe with a disclaimer, just for my personal safety. For the record, it is in no way derogatory that I call my own blood sister a slow-moving arboreal edentate (meaning almost toothless, if you're curious) mammal that does nothing but attempts to finish chewing two leaves in its mouth before the sun sets... and rises again.
And if it helps, may I also emphasize that she got the lovely nickname from her husband, by absolutely no fault of mine.
Believe it or not, I actually find the term rather affectionate and quite darn cute. It never fails to amaze me how good my sister is in adopting such a surreal tempo. And pray, it is indeed amazing when you consider Ms. Sloth's most un-sloth-like past as an enthusiastic gymnast and athlete in her school days. Those were her golden days of many quick moves and nifty footwork. She could have been Ms. Puma then.
I'm not sure what exactly happened but somewhere down the line (after one marriage and many many pound cakes later), she morphed into what she is today - the human equivalent of a creature that moves so painfully slow that it may as well be in reverse. You'll have to watch her really closely or you'd think she stopped dead midway in her track. Meet her at the start of the day and you'd know what I mean. The true epitome of S-L-O-W.
To be fair, I not a quick person either. It probably runs in the family, where lazing around is a highly desirable pastime. It's just that my sister is at the more extreme end of the BUMMER spectrum. I've got a lot more to catch up.
To Yanni the most successful sloth in mankind and the glory of our family!
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