open and shut case

not quite a year

Five days in Provence, with non-witty captions and not a single food picture. And I did finish reading A Year In Provence in a fit of last-minute research, but it became quite plain to me by Day 2 that Peter Mayle and I were in two totally different places.


St Tropez -- just saying the name is so glam.


Wish I could paint...


St Tropez -- where Karl Lagerfeld was spotted [not in photo] and four AA batteries cost 7 euros.


I like umbrellas and deck chairs, whether or not they are on a beach in Cannes.


Heady from the rich scents in the perfume factory in Grasse, perfume capital of the world.


Sweet, sweet smell of soap [and tourist dollars].


Miss Suaku here first time see olive trees.


When the French inform you that the nearest village is "10 minutes away", be prepared for a long, if picturesque, walk of at least half an hour -- uphill.


The fortified village of St Paul de Vence, apparently the only one in France.


Fountain of Some Historic Importance, St Paul de Vence.


View from the fortress.


Trust me, even this sort of gorgeous view gets boring after a while.

i flew 14 hours for this

Don't hate me, cos the French were terribly snooty and snobbish [do the two words mean the same thing?], we were nannied to death by the resort chaperon, and I'm still jet lagged/jetlagged/jet-lagged after being back for five days.

Now for the slideshow of the girl who can't pose, can't smile and can't keep her eyes open while taking photos.


The hills are alive...


To the left, to the left...


Blink, and you miss it.


Trying to blend in with the beautiful people in St Tropez.


Horsing around with D and Black Beauty, who was wearing a lampshade on its head.


In a restaurant with really bad French food. Yes, that oxymoron is possible.

fitting in

I laughed out loud while watching. And now I have the urge to dig up my old Tetris game.

last call

Leaving you with this "Hesitation" karakuri before I fly off tonight. From the lovely A+R Store, in which I whiled away many hours in the office selecting gifts for myself, such as these ceramic crinkle cups and fast cup drinking glasses.

jet setter, jet-setter or jetsetter?

Before you accuse me of being one, I must protest that it's hardly the case. I'm just a frequent-flyer-miles exploiter and unable-to-resist-junket junkie.

Too much ca phe sua da -- I <3 Vietnamese coffee! -- at 10pm is a bad idea. So after banging out a banal story on the latest collection of a luxury brand totally irrelevant to me, except for the fact I took its junket, I will now run down some numbers from the latest Vietnam trip:

6: Men on the same trip
5: Of which were gay.
4: Ca phe sua da making sets bought
3: Extremely chi chi restaurants, none of which as good as the cramped banh xeo shop down an alley filled with broken motorbikes and a makeshift manicure "parlour"
2: Times I've been to Ho Chi Minh in as many months
1: Bathrobe I contemplated accidentally packing into my suitcase from the very Raffles Hotel-esque Park Hyatt. Until I saw on the price list that it cost USD 50.

Photo above of the sand dunes of Mui Ne, from my infinitely more enjoyable first trip to Vietnam with my sissy, even though we stayed in crappier hotels, ate cheaper food and endangered our lives more by riding pillion on bikes.

Next, I'm off to Provence. Don't hate me!

[Call me suaku, but I only just last week found out what <3 meant. What to do, I only got to know about Facebook last month. And Pandora last year. But oh oh oh, this blog just celebrated its third anniversary a few days back. I'm not sure how that makes me any less suaku.]

oh, eddie

Found a copy of this in one of the "art galleries" I took shelter in from the rain along Dong Khoi in Ho Chi Minh City. I could have had a Lichenstein for only USD 11.

the tour has no depose

This photo is dedicated to my lurve. "As know as de base. The tour has no depose."

Since I have been accused of not updating my blog -- and since I have some time to kill while waiting for my flight back -- here's a quick round-up of the buying-cum-eating trip to Hiong Kong earlier this month.

-- 50 cute brooches
-- 11 different types of fabric, 50 yards each
-- 5 days in Hong Kong
-- 4 pairs of shoes from H&M
-- 3 tim sum lunches at Maxim's
-- 3 cups of Hui Lau Shan mango-strawberry drink
-- 2 bowls of wanton noodles at Mak Noodles
-- 2 bowls of beef brisket
-- 2 trips to the post office
-- 1 bowl of sotong ball noodles

While Mousey had her unborn child -- tentatively named Bobo Wong -- I had mine too. I called him Tim. His father's surname is Sum. He grew at a tremendous rate during the short trip.

And the suitcase which can double as a murder accessory? It was filled completely with jersey on the way back.

foreign tongues and old men

For some reason, my Blogger interface is in Japanese even though I'm holed up in the business centre of a Vietnamese hotel. Not that it would be any better if it were in Vietnamese.

Anyhoo. It's cats and dogs outside, and I've been dashing from shop to shop along Dong Khoi the whole afternoon, popping into faux French cafes, pseudo and real art galleries, and a Nike store which looks no different from any one in any other part of the world.

At my last shelter from the storm, two dirty old men -- one hawking IHT and USA Today, the other just a nosey ah pek -- just can't leave me alone.

The nosey one asks me how old I am (he guesses I'm 22), do I have a boyfriend (my answer is a lie) and whether I'm a movie star (I roll my eyes at him). I tolerate his leering for close to half an hour, but when he harasses me for my phone number and then whips out his own battered Samsung phone to try to snap a pix of me, it is the last straw.

I dash out into the rain. I can hear the two DOM chortling in delight as the rain splashes onto my face.

suits me fine

This afternoon, I bought the biggest suitcase in the world -- okay, in People's Park Centre. I love the vintage-y tapestry material. I will never have problems identifying my suitcase on the conveyor belt again.



Still not convinced of its incredible size? Check out what it can hold.



The incredible bargaining prowess of my mother meant that I paid $250 for a 32-inch Samsonite priced originally at $899. And did I mention that she got the uncle to throw in a lock at half price and another lock for free?

think of me

I'm a philistine. Last Saturday was the first time I watched something at the Esplanade. It was Phantom of the Opera.

I remember being rather emotionally involved when I first saw it, what, nine or eleven or thirteen years ago. "So poor thing," I thought, when the Phantom wept for Christine.

Second time round, I just thought, "This Phantom is a blurdy fool."

the hairdresser must be crazy

According to my sister, this is how idiotic I look.

soft focus

This is a more flattering photo of him than of me, but it is perfectly lit and completely unposed.

crochety old lady

My pair of cushy cushions are finally done.


But looking at this Flickr photo I found by Pezquehina, I feel like I've cheated by making such huge giant enormous squares, instead of 10,000 teeny ones.

blasts from the past

It's been an emotionally draining day on top of an inhospitable fortnight on top of a month that has tested my resolve.

These were good for a chuckle and some nostalgia for a couple of minutes at least this morning when I dug them out.


My past life as Qwerty the all-powerful mage with her trusty tanker Tobong, who also doodles pretty well during lectures. Ah, good ol' days of MUD and magic mushrooms.


The Flying Fish! And Lee Nam Heng!


Notice how Xiang Yun's poster is twice the size of her to-be-husband's?


Samsui Woman! I couldn't find any photos of The Awakening though.


In The Mood For Love. Am gonna frame up these cards properly and display them instead of just sticking them in a box. Mustn't waste Maggie and Tony!


I was so in love with him. He's so dreamy. And Mannequin is still my fave movie.

small is beautiful

The Nutshell Studies Of Unexplained Deaths is a fascinating book combining criminal forensics with dollhouse miniatures. Not unlike those recent CSI episodes that just aired.

From Apartment Therapy

bun, ban, banh

Bun cha: My sissy's fave dish of grilled pork patties and rice noodles with fish sauce. We had an inferior version in a high-class restaurant, but this roadside one was much oilier and hence better.


Banh beo: My fave dish. They're like chwee kueh, but with tasty little prawny morsels on top.


Banh xeo: Vietnamese crispy pancake, not unlike the Korean variety.


Bun bo: Squiggly short fat noodles in super savoury beef and crab soup.


Dunno what this is called, but it's deep-fried spring rolls eaten with a tangy mayo dip.

Belatedly, I realised that I didn't shoot any pho bo or rice paper spring rolls. Probably because I was too eager to dig in. Vietnamese food is too yummy!

strings attached

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
-- from "Leisure," by W.H. Davies

This made me pause and take a moment.

missing saigon

Was in dire need of a perk-me-up in the afternoon, so decided to MacGyver my own ca phe sua da in the office canteen.

Ingredients: three tablespoons of condensed milk, half a styrofoam cup of black coffee, all the ice the cup could hold. Straw for ineffective stirring, optional.

Total cost: $0.40.

Taste test: It was nowhere close to Trung Nguyen, it was more like cold condensed milk flavoured with coffee.

drip drip drip

Don't worry, I've not forgotten my threat to inflict my Vietnam holiday snaps on you. But it will have to wait because I've been up to my eyeballs...

But here's the best thing I learned while in Ho Chi Minh City: That I can drink coffee if it's sugared and milked and iced, without my heart racing and my head spinning.

I'm not sure what I love more -- the slow contemplative drip, the sweet swirl of thick coffee being stirred into even thicker condensed milk, or the crackling of ice as the hot hits the cold. Ah, what I'd give for a glass of ca phe sua da right now...

rush hour

Tourist snaps of Vietnam trip coming soon -- be warned!



In the meantime, here's a video of the swarms of motorbikes in Saigon. I would have shot one too, except that I was hanging on for dear life.

But no crappy camera phone can capture the exhilaration of weaving through traffic without ever stopping for a red light, the wind whipping through my hair, and the amazement after every ride that I was still alive.

miss saigon

Some stuff to keep you occupied:
-- mag goss on Glossed Over. Pay special attention to the interesting fact you didn't know about Katherine McPhee.
-- create your own library catalogue cards here. Trust me, it's fun after you finish filling up the form.
-- find out how alike you are to me in terms of our Visual DNA.
-- search for your fave Calvin & Hobbes strip. Somehow, I still haven't been able to find that particular one which made me cry [in a sweet, not tragic, way.]

All crocheting and cross-stitching is on hold as I'm off to Vietnam, but I'll be...