Hip hip HOORAY!

On April 23, 1988, my life got twice as good. I probably wasn't aware of it back then, but thing have become more and more clear as time goes by. My younger brother is the World's Best Brother!

My first and only sibling was supposed to arrive at the same time as the crocus that me and mum had planted when the baby was still baking inside the tummy. It was a great plan by my mother, with the exception that the flowers popped out way earlier than my brother, so in my view Filip was late. Turns out Filip was and still is a very relaxed person that likes to take his time.

I don't remember much of my brother as a baby, but once he learned how to move around a little and then later communicate it was starting to become fun. I took him out for walks on a leach (if you don't get a puppy you have to make due with what's available), introduced my dolls and stuffed animals to his action figures and stuffed animals, taught him how to make huts out of blankets and furniture as well as showed him how to bake chocolate balls. All of life's essentials.

In direct contrast to myself, Filip went straight from crawling to running. He was never ever ever still as a kid, and one of the most frequent phrases used was "Diddi also come along!" Diddi was Filip's own pronunciation of Filip, and it has sticked as a nick name. Turns out diddi actually means younger brother in Chinese, so in a way he was really ahead of his time. Filip also goes by the name of Filten, Filé, Fille, Janson, Pläden, Koalan and more.

Here in Asia, the most impressive thing about Filip is not his excellent poker skills ("owning" luck is serious shit in this part of the world) or his gastronomic interest (what Singaporean does not connect with another foodie?). Standing tall at just under 2 meters, he is about one head taller than me and I often get the question, "Wow, he's really tall, huh. How?" I'm not entirely sure if this is just a way to appreciate and give a compliment or if there is an honest question hidden in there, where the urge to be at least over 160cm takes over reason and when finding someone tall, you just have to ask - how did it happen.

Happy birthday Filip! Wish you were here and hope I get to see you soon!

Pre-work holiday in Bali

I have been to Bali twice. I'm not likely to go back.

There is nothing wrong with the little Australian Summer Paradise, it was just so darn dirty when I last visited. Kuta beach is know for surfing, hardcore haggling beach vendors and magic mushrooms. When I decided to spend a little vacation time in Indonesia, it was mainly my goal to get some surfing done that drove me to Bali. A mission that failed.

I land around 10pm, and take a cab to the hotel in Seminyak, the more upscale and quiet area just north of Kuta. Turns out it's new year's eve. Yes, once again it's a new year celebration. Bali does not follow the Western, Chinese or Persian calendar, they celebrates new year in March apparently. That meant that on my first day on vacation, it was strictly forbidden to leave the hotel compound. According to legend, the people of Bali scared the evil spirits away on new year's eve, and then hid themselves on the first day of the new year - tricking the evil spirits into thinking Bali was a deserted island. So on this day you are supposed to be still, quiet and not eat. Meditate and start the new year on a clean slate I guess. 

I spent half the day struggling with power adapters, computer dilemmas and lousy internet connection (sort of the opposite of meditation). The second half of the day I was happily sunbathing by the pool, making sure I did not miss last chance for food at 5.30 pm. TV was completely shut off this day and as it turned out most electricity as well. When the sun had set I went in to my villa and decided to read a book. Only a few pages into the story I get a call from the reception. 

"Sorry Miss, your room very bright, can you close the lights?"

"Yes, of course! Sorry, very sorry!"

"Thank you"

I switch off the lights. It was 7.30 pm and I went to bed.  

Next day we were all allowed outside and so I made full use of the opportunity and rented a car with a driver for the day. Cruising around the island we saw a volcano, a lake, many many temples, stopped for some sightseeing (art gallery and coffee that is) in Ubud, and checked out the impressive new-year statues and sculptures built out of papier-mache. These scary looking and often huge papier-mache monsters were made by the local boys and paraded through town on New Year's eve. 

According to a British guy that was traveling the world attending carnivals this particular event was entertaining but horribly bad organized. One could never be really sure of when those boys would be going around town, and therefor he had spent the entire day drinking bear looking at the street life that was now and then interrupted by a sporadic parade. He concluded that generally speaking the street life in Bali is not very exciting, the local bear taste better and better the more you drink and when locals say that something is local - it means it's local. 

Moving from Seminyak to Kuta for my last days on Bali I was hoping for some action. First stop: the beach. It took a long time and a minor sandstorm before I could successfully negotiate myself into a reasonable priced sunbed. Two garbage collecting trucks where going up and down the beach in a vain attempt to rid our sun-kissed view of cigarette buts, picnic left overs and other trash. So far so good. Minus the sandstorm. Then I hit the water. And then I get straight back up. I had plastic bags around my legs, empty bottles hitting my waist and all kinds of general shit floating around ALL OVER. It was like going for a swim in a sewage. Yuk. Bye-bye surfing plans.

Action is now instead sourced at night. Trying my luck, ehrm, at the pubs and disco's around town, I quickly realized why magic mushrooms are legal. You need them to survive the crappy nightlife. To be fair I am probably around ten years too old, alternatively 30 years too young, to fit the target audience of Bali-lovers. Well, it just wasn't a lot of fun. Plus the ice-cream places were not that good as well.

'Nuff said. Next holiday: New York. *fingers crossed* or maybe Thailand. 

Russians and Tarzan

On my second week at work, the company took me and most of the other people in our office, including the sales teams around South East Asia to Pattaya in Thailand. The plan was to host a product launch and a sales conference as well as enjoying an internal gala dinner and some teambuilding. My prior knowledge of what one can find in Pattaya was limited to strippers and drunken Scandinavians. So I found Pattaya to be an interesting choice of location for a company event.

Arriving in Pattaya I spent 98,5% of my time within the compound of the very nice hotel (busy organizing the different events), and it is therefor difficult to accurately comment on the availability of strippers and drunken Scandinavians. However we did drive through town on one occasion, and passing by some sort of hawker center (food center), I noticed that each table had a stripper pole, complete with a lady and all. In conclusion I think it is fare to say that the strippers are definitely easily available.

Drunken Scandinavian encounters was limited to a single meeting which surprisingly took place in my own hotel room. I had just got back to my room after a long, hard working day. Stepping out of my clothes and getting ready for bed I headed for the loo when a tipsy and haggard looking Scandinavian suddenly seams to come out of the bathroom at the same time as I try to go inside. I stop completely and immediately, thinking with a growing panic, that I have entered and got undressed in the wrong room! The other person, thankfully a girl, seem to be going though the exact same thought process and surprise. And so I realize the bathroom door is a full size mirror. The cleaning lady had closed the door, and in my weary state of mind I kind of missed the mirror and thought it was just another corner of the room.

Magic Howard entertaining at Gala Dinner

If Scandinavians were absent, that is the least one can say about Russians. Them pale maffiosos were all over the place. Most of them speaking to me, in Russian naturally, and when I say speak I mean having long conversations with me - completely ignoring my "I'm sorry, I'm not... I don't actually..." "Not Russian. No understand...." etc. They were also doing interesting lap-dances in the pool and staring each other down on the beach. Coming from Europe (trendy) and Asia (somewhat modest), I also found the Russian fashion display outstanding! Tackiness hit new levels and when seriously fat men in zebra striped, minimal, swimming trunks walked by, I had to intensively control my urge to snap a picture.

Highlight of the Pattaya trip was with no doubt Flight of the Gibbon. A zipline canopy tour through the jungle of Thailand. With 24 stations we zipped between trees high, high, and very very high up in the air. Twice we also zipped vertically straight down, which was more scary but cool. The last zipline was over 300 meters long and really nice, especially due to special effects by the windy weather. Interesting to notice was that even if the special sound effects mainly came from the younger female members, the general fear of heights and extended tree-hugging sessions at the different platforms mainly hit our older male members. Us inbetweeners, age-wise in between that is, happily throw ourselves out in the jungle roof with the same ease and graze as Tarzan & Jane.

IRL

As noted (?) I've been absent. Finding a new job and well, life in general I guess, sort of got in the way of my digital life and this blog. Apologies here and now to all the people in far away places that I've unintentionally disappeared on.

My new job is without doubt the most exciting thing that has happened. I've started working for a very cool american company, and I'm totally in that honeymoon period where extra hours feels like extra lovin'. My job scope is all about marketing communications and I'm equal parts terrified of not meeting expectations as I'm thrilled to do something I really like. Updates will follow.

So let's see, March was an active party month. Going single means going out, at least the needs&wants for it is much bigger. Checking out Singapore nightlife is indeed a fascinating experience, and there will be lots to talk about on this subject I'm sure. However the first thing that strikes me is the unavoidable feeling of living in a teeny tiny little bubble. How come everyone knows everyone when there are 5 million of us on the island?!? 

Actually the government has told the people that Singapore targets to be 6.9 million people by 2030. This has caused an outrage. How? HOw?! HOW?!?! Common comments include "The MRT (public transport) is already so crowded!" Where to live, housing be built in ocean or what?" "I tell you what will happen, us Singaporeans will be called Singaforeiners" (assuming that so many foreigners will be accepted that Singaporeans will be a minority in their own country). 

Around the same time of the outrage, a sinkhole appeared suddenly on Clementi Rd. A sinkhole is a deep hole that simply appears in the ground with no warning. This is a natural phenomenon  and the very circular holes can be big enough to swallow a house. The one in Clementi pushed a motorcyclist of his bike, but no one else was harmed. The local media Straits Time uploaded a picture of the thing and reading the comments was simply hilarious. A selected few:

- Sin.gap.ore

- Gahmen (government) solving the 6.9million issue?

- Road tax rebate NOW!!

- Hell needs a little air?

- Actually this situation is really dangerous, why was there no warning signs put up??

- Go into the hole and follow the tracks, probably end up in China. Materials and workmanship all from China mah. (here "made in China" is another way of saying "crap quality") ("mah" is just a way to enforce your statement)

Shall do my best to go back to the weekly updates!