moody meanderings

You have to boil salted duck eggs before you can eat them. Did you know that? Nor did I until tonight. I nearly cracked one open before it was boiled. Luckily I was curious enough to shake it before cracking it. My sister always presented the egg to me already shelled. What a sheltered existence I led!

It's Halloween tomorrow but already, Lan Kwai Fong is closed to traffic tonight. What a nightmare it will be to get in and out of my apartment building tomorrow. Still no plans yet. I hear there's a halloween salsa party at Harbour City, TST. I guess if nothing else, that's where I'll go. I don't know how I'll get home though.

Speaking of nightmares, I had a horrendous one last night. I watched in horror as someone I know, someone very close was shot in the neck at close range. By the time we were able to call for help, it was too late. I sat in a corner of the room or bus, I can't tell which, horrified and in shock at the sight of the limp and lifeless bloodied form. I woke up distressed nearly to tears. I've forgotten most of the details now so I don't know who the assailant was. All I remember now is the fear and tragic sense of loss and helplessness, and wishing it all a nightmare, which gratefully, it was.

I took a tumble today rushing to meet salsa god for lunch. I was trying not to be late as usual but that was impossible as I only left the office after the appointed hour. But at least, I had hoped I might get there just behind him. We were meeting at our usual eating place which is a Japanese restaurant in New World Tower. On each step leading down to the restaurant is an anti-slip cement strips. I was wearing a new pair of shoes I picked up from my last trip to Singapore. The anti-slip worked. My heel caught on the strip and I wasn't able to pull it away immediately. I landed on my knees on the next couple of steps and slid the rest of the way down, startling an elderly couple following right behind me. My knees and shin feel like they did two months ago after the car accident in Stanley. But I'm not going to let that stop me from getting to salsa tonight.

It is the Grand Stage tonight. While online with salsa god, a guy visiting his brother from Oregan started to chat me up. He wanted a date. I wasn't about to go on a one-on-one date with a complete stranger so I suggested he go to Grand Stage where I was going. He wanted a photo. I declined. He decided to give Grand Stage a miss. I guess he found another woman online more inclined to blind dates. This whole exchange got me curious about chatting strangers up online. So I got onto the Yahoo members directory and picked out an unsuspecting guy with a handsome photo on his profile. I sent him a line. He ignored me. Ouch!

Remember the Mexican National Day celebrations that I performed at in full costume for the first time a month ago? Well, after the performance, I stayed on very briefly to dance with some friends. While dancing with Peter, a photographer pointed his camera at us, so we stopped in our tracks and posed like the vain creatures that we are. The photographer was from BC Magazine and I must say he was a photographer with a good eye *wink*. Peter didn't look too bad either. *grin*

There's also a photo of salsa god with his harem of women, one of whom was his very gorgeous date that night. His ex, no less! Yes, I was jealous!!!

I'd forgotten I have no bathroom light until I got home last night and had to shower by candlelight. Again. I've lost count how many bulbs I've blown now. And I'm too embarrassed to ask for help from salsa god again. He'll just think it one of my lame, over-used seduction ploys, I'm sure. It's my fault, of course, for overdoing the ego-massage. Tonight, I brought my IKEA rice-paper lamp from the lounge to the bathroom. A temporary measure until I can bring myself to clamber up my precarious perch again to change the bulbs.

Three weeks ago, I met two other Fiddler cast members for lunch. At the time, we made arrangements for another luncheon today to celebrate a birthday. Later, J informed me that he would be in HK the same day to meet with his former manager. I was going to suggest meeting up for lunch but I already had an appointment. We decided we'd try to meet anyway. No further plans were made.

On the way to the birthday lunch today, I debated whether to use the footbridge that passes through The Landmark, a building haunted with memories of J, or to get to the restaurant from the street. I decided to confront the emotions associated with a familiar meeting place. As I decended the spiral steps leading into The Landmark, my thoughts immediately flew to J, to those times we used to meet for tea and my disappointment at not hearing from him this past weekend. Like a ghost straight out of my reverie, he appeared riding up the elevator. I stood transfixed as I watched the figment of my imagination walk towards me. Then he looked up and recognition spread across his smiling face. I was sure I would cry. I was sure I would break into delirious laughter. But only polite, restrained conversation transpired. We parted company with friendly assurances that we would stay in touch by email. In my heart, I knew it was our final goodbye.

Where do I come up with stuff like that? My nephew, like nearly every nine-year-old, hates homework. This afternoon, as my sister presided over her two older children's exam. revision, the younger of the two was distracting himself with sharpening, for the tenth time, an already sharpened pencil. My sister was yelling at him to mind his work to no avail. And then, these words issued forth from my mouth from where, I do not know. It made me feel very sagely.

But not for very long. This evening, on my flight back, I was listening to the in-flight Latin music compilation and, wishing I could understand Spanish, thought I might take lessons so I could better appreciate the passionate music. For some reason, the thought of learning a latin tongue made me think of Johan and his ad hoc French lessons he used to give me over a cup of tea, and predictably, a flood of emotion overcame me. I thought I might start to cry. It was all very silly really, but there it was...I missed the stupid french boy. Like I blogged earlier, he's meant to be in HK this weekend to attend a wedding. I had hoped to meet him but we didn't make any concrete plans. It's a little hard to come to terms with the fact that I won't ever see his smile or hear his voice again. Maybe I should have that cry afterall.

It's my last day in Singapore. I'm tired. It has been a long week at the show. The exhibition didn't attract as much traffic as we would have liked but the quality was appreciably higher than most other shows of this nature. Let's hope it turns out to be a sufficient payoff.

Thursday night was the sibos party. It was held at the Turf Club out in Kranji. A very grand affair indeed. There were three races that night. I won the first race. The prize was a baseball cap! *rolls eyes*
At least I got to go to the races afterall since J and I never got to the tracks before he left. But hey, I'm not complaining because that last night was very special after all. I miss him. He's supposed to be back in H'S this weekend and as tempted as I was to fly back early for the weekend, I have managed to hold myself back. But I digress.

Some creepy clients at the show came by our stand on Friday to tell me they had been watching me all night at the party. They didn't know then that it was me but recognised the henna painted band on my arm from the previous night when they got to the stand. I ran into them again on another floor of the exhibition. They were taking photos of various stands and asked to be photographed with me when they saw me. I acquiesced. Flattering but creepy.

Went to Xen Bar last night. Been eating all week during the show and was starting to put on weight. Feeling fat and ugly from over-eating. Lunch everyday was a three-course meal. I only went to two. Every afternoon, we hosted cocktails at the stand. Wine and cheese. Like nearly every other exhibiting company. There was too much food and no one to eat them so we ate and ate. So, I was feeling terribly self-conscious at Xen Bar because all I had left to wear that night was a cropped top and dance pants. I was sure I looked like the "michelin man".

The Singapore Salsa scene is nothing like the HK Salsa scene. It is a very tightly knitted group here. "Clique-ish" is probably a more apt description. It is a rare regular salsero who would ask a new-comer to dance. Even when introduced to a guy, he wouldn't ask me for a dance. He was happy to just stand quietly next to me until I left his side. This would never happen in Hong Kong. And the "champion" of Singapore Salsa, Gupson, only ever dances with his students. Again, a non-occurence amongst Hong Kong instructors. Admittedly, the standard of Salsa is much higher in Singapore than in Hong Kong. There is a strong focus on technique as well as styling. And as most of the students belong to Gupson's school, or to schools of his one-time students, the women are spot-on with their spins but there is very little individual style. And as everybody knows nearly everybody, the outsider feels like a gate-crasher to Gupson's private party. Last night was a birthday party for his girl, complete with a five minute birthday dance and then another dance with the man himself, followed by a birthday cake-cutting ceremony. The cake never got around the room. Totally self-absorbed. I miss HK Salsa.

Last day at sibos, the financial event my company has been participating in. Today has been gift-hunting day so all we've seen are tyre-kicker types. No time to blog this whole week but I'll be back later today for some quirky updates.

My aunt passed away on Friday morning. I learned of her death yesterday. She was hospitalised the day I arrived in Singapore but as I had a huge suitcase with me, I didn't want to be lugging that along with my laptop all around the hospital. I decided to check into the hotel and to visit her another day. I knew she was in critical condition but I didn't expect her condition to deteriorate in less than twenty-four hours. She had slipped into a coma by the time I arrived in Singapore. Still, I'm sorry I didn't get to see her before she went.

She was my mom's only sister. She was a happy woman who always had on a wide smile and a cackle whenever I saw her at Christmas and Chinese New Year. In the last couple of years, she succumbed to Alzheimers and was quite senile. But her smile never faded. I will miss her.

My cousins are taking it very well despite the sudden-ness of it all. But the two grandchildren in Singapore, especially the older one, are devastated. The older boy was planning to spend next week with her after his exams but his plans have now come to nought. Very tragic.

It is all very sobering. And sombre. Every evening, a prayer group from the church the family worships at comes to lead the family in prayer. The music they pick to sing are all very sad or, are sung in the most lifeless manner so that they sound terribly sad and probably eerie to onlookers. And the prayers or incantations are chanted in a flat monotonous fashion which must cause some goosebumps too. I am reminded that I must write it in my will that only lively music should be played at my memorial service. None of that awful funeral music. I will have "You shall go out with joy" sung for the procession and "This is the day the Lord has made" during the service. Someone will sing "On Eagle's Wings". Or even better, I will record that song to be played at my own memorial service. Is that morbid or narcissistic? A bit of both, I suppose. Well, I think the dead is entitled to that.

Swissotel, The Stamford in Singapore is running an "ultimate stupidity" competition amongst their staff. And it is a close competition for first place.

Candidate #1
At the registration desk, the receptionist routinely takes down my information and apologetically offers me a King sized bed on a smoking floor. I ask if there is really no room left other than the smoking floor and she magically assigns one to me and wishes me a pleasant stay, a signal for me to move on so that she can attend to the next guest. "Did you give me my room key?" I wonder out loud. She picks up the key on her desk and hands it to me without missing a beat.

Candidate #2
As I walk into the room, I'm greeted by the most offensive stench. The last guest must have puked in every corner of the room. I call the front desk and inform them that the room stinks terribly. They send a housekeeping staff with a fragrance spray to take care of the problem. The guy walks in and remarks, "Oh, it is very smelly. I thought it was just cigarette smoke." He sprays the room generously and I leave for dinner. When I return, the stench shocks my system once more. There's just no way I can spend a night in this room, much less a week! So, I call Front Desk again and request for a room change. "OK, ma'am. We will change the room for you tomorrow. What time is convenient for you?" Did she understand what I just said? The room reeks and the spray job didn't work. Did she really think I would be able to wait a night for my room to be changed? She apologises and insists that they are running a full house and have no deluxe room left to move me to. I'm outraged now and insist I don't care what situation she has, the room stinks of vomit and there's no way I am spending the night in it. She excuses herself and minutes later returns to the phone, magically presenting me with another deluxe room on a lower floor. Where do these rooms come from? Do they pull them out of a hat?

Candidate #3
I settle into my new, slightly smaller but odourless room and prepare for a shower. I search the drawers for a hair dryer but finding none, call housekeeping to enquire where they keep it. I'm told that it should be in the drawer under the television. I check again and declare that the drawers are empty. She offers to send someone up with one. At the same time, I request for an ethernet cable for the broadband access. Minutes later, my doorbell rings impatiently. I'm in the bathroom and rush to answer the door. It is a housekeeping staff. I chastise him for being so impatient at the door. He apologises and offers me a power plug adapter. "What's this for?" I ask, bewildered.
"You ask for this right?"
"No, I asked for an ethernet cable."
He looks disgruntled and prepares to leave. I stop him, "Wait, I also asked for a hairdryer?"
"Every room got one." He clearly didn't care to help.
"Yes, that's what they told me. Then, why don't you come and show me where they hide it?"
He steps in and opens the same drawers I've already opened and satisfied that I wasn't lying, offered me something concealed in a cloth bag that he'd been holding all this while.
"What's this?" I echo my earlier question. He opens it and reveals a hairdryer.
"Is that for me?" I ask in surprise.
"Yes."
"Well, why didn't you give it to me until now?"
He is silent. And as an after-thought suggests that I test it. I pull out the plug and as it is a two-pin plug, made for the bathroom to plug it into the shaver socket. He stops me and tells me to test it on the three-pin socket and presents the power adapter plug from before. What a coincidence, I thought.
"Was this plug for the hairdryer?"
"Yes."
"Then why did you give them to me separately before? You are very strange!" I can't help but exclaim. He takes offense to my observation and leaves the room indignant. The ethernet cable never came that night.

Candidate #4
This afternoon, a bunch of brochures, three thousand in all, get delivered to the hotel fresh from the press. I return from the office to find a voice message waiting for me. It is the voice of the clerk at the front desk informing me of the brochures that had arrived for me and requesting that I come and pick them up. Come down and carry up three thousand brochures??? Was it not enough that I carried my own suitcase up to my room the night before? I ring and tell them to send it up. Of course.

Candidate #5
Before leaving for the office this morning, I rang Housekeeping to ask them about the ethernet cable I requested last night. They assure me that they will deliver it today. While I have housekeeping on the phone, I make a request that they put up fresh shower curtains for me as the one they had up smelt like stale sweat. He apologieses and assures me that I will have fresh curtains today. I get back to fresh shower curtains and two ethernet cables. I randomly pick one and connect my laptop to the modem but nothing happens. I call the service provider who makes me check under the desk for the modem and follow the tangle of cables to make sure the phone line is plugged in and the right lights are turned on. I'm totally perplexed until I notice the other cable and decide to try that one instead. Voila! It worked. The first was a decoy of some sort, is all I can conclude.

Didn't I say it was a close competition? But my favourite candidate must be Candidate #3. Not only did he demonstrate complete stupidity, he topped that with totally bizarre behaviour.

Who would you vote for?

I'm back in hot, humid and sunny Singapore. I hear it has been raining all week so I guess I'm lucky to have arrived on a beautiful day. I saw such a magnificent sunset on the way from the airport to the hotel. The skyline was streaked pink, yellow and orange, making lithe silhouettes of Singapore's skyscrapers. Gorgeous! It is going to be a busy week, working through the weekend too, but I'm determined to make time for Salsa. I meant to start tonight but I'm really tired now after a late late chat with Salsa god last night. He can be such a sweetheart. But that story is for another time. Now, I must to bed.

I wish I could blame it on hormones but it isn't that time of month. I'm feeling sad, lonely and depressed. There's just no one to talk to, to relax with, without having to be on guard about. One by one, my girlfriends have dropped out of my life. Susan has gone back to San Francisco. Serina's life revolves around her new career as a teacher and there's no time even for lunch after church, which she doesn't attend regularly anymore either. There's only Tara left but she travels frequently. And as for men, aside from J, who has left for good, if there is no prospect for a sexual encounter, I wouldn't hear from them. And if I do, it's only because they are still hoping to get lucky and it's all I can do to fight off their amorous intentions, much less have a friendly conversation. The only man left whose company I enjoy, sex or no sex, prefers his own company.

Last night, our group performed at a corporate function. We were paid a measely sum each and for that, we spent over an hour putting on costume, hair and make-up, standing by for over an hour to peform a number lasting a little over five minutes and then inviting the reticent guests down to dance. Predictably, only the older expat men accepted our invitation. Makes one wonder what the organisers were thinking when they set up sexily clad dancers to persuade sleepy corporate types from their dinner table to dance at a black-tie event to the song "Hot Stuff"! *she rolls her eyes*

So, I decided to drop by Ing after a three-month hiatus. It was a quiet night but some old friends were there. That was a pleasant surprise. I had a few dances and spent some time catching up with legal eagle friend. At some point in the evening, a short and stout man in his forties or fifties starts chatting with me. Asks me what I do. I tell him I work for a

[Late breaking news!!! J just called from France! If there's anyone who can pick up my mood, it's him! Happy now. *sigh* Back to the story...]

software company. What kind of software? I tell him integration software. He thinks I'm being condescending and accuses me of assuming he knows nothing about technology. Asks me again what I do and I tell him, again, I work for a software company. He heaves an impatient sigh and probes what type of software, to do what? I tell him integration software for EAI and B2Bi. The buzzwords fly over his head. Bewildered at his incomprehension, I explain, "Enterprise Application Integration and Business-to-Business integration". His eyes betray his continued incomprehension. What companies buy our software? Businesses that want to integrate their enterprise applications, I begin to explain but am saved by an invitation to dance. In between dances, he tries to impress me with the fact that he is a very experienced IT consultant who lived in Silicon Valley for nine years. That the very popular instructor visiting from L.A. works for a very large IT corporation and they'd just had a very fruitful conversation. He pushes a business card in my hand and solicits an email from me. I smile and take the grungy, grey, home-made business card from him. I notice that there are scribblings all over the card but it is too dark to read and I have another invitation to dance. I put the card away. And as I've been writing this, I've taken out the card and here's what's scribbled on the unprinted space:

"I am humble guy, but in fact is one of the best most connected high level IT advisor Asia - SV. Check www.hkor.com board + email me so I can email background"

And on the top right hand corner next to the company name is written in brackets, "IT Focus". Below that, his yahoo email address scribbled and circled. On the reverse side of the card continues,

"Karen (?) - email me so I can maintain contact. If still in HK Thurs Oct 16, consider joining me + some friends at Wine Tasting at www.centralgolf.com.hk".

The humble letter is signed with a smiley above his name. This super hi-tech, high level IT advisor doesn't have a corporate email account? *she rolls her eyes*

Got a mail today, purportedly from Microsoft, which read:

Microsoft Consumer

this is the latest version of security update, the "October 2003, Cumulative Patch" update which eliminates all known security vulnerabilities affecting MS Internet Explorer, MS Outlook and MS Outlook Express. Install now to maintain the security of your computer from these vulnerabilities, the most serious of which could allow an attacker to run code on your computer.

This was followed by instructions on installing the patch attached to the mail. Obviously a virus spam right? But as it was sent with MS banner and legal lines, it was quite believable. Check it out.

These worm infesters ought to be shot!

My company has been inundated with multiple surveys from the government census department. They must have decided that we are a survey-friendly company despite the fact that I haven't ever responded to their surveys until they ring me to complete the survey by phone, and then, only if it's a brief one. Today, a Ms Yam from the department called for the "employee size" survey. Here's an exerpt:

Ms Yam: Hello, good morning. I am Ms Anita Yam calling from the Census and Statistics Department of the Hong Kong SARS, uh,...the Hong Kong S,...the Hong Kong S-A-R.

Ms Respondent: Good afternoon.

Ms Yam: Our department regularly conduct survey about the company size. How many employees you have in your company?

Ms Respondent: Seven, no, eight.

Ms Yam: Eight. And all are men?

Ms Respondent: Errr....what am I?


I am back in the office today and it is lunch time. Invariably, my mind drifts to J. Went to Kosmo to pick up a boxed lunch. Couldn't bring myself to go upstairs as I've only ever been there with J. Two days ago, someone asked me to meet him there. I declined and suggested another venue. One day, I will be able to climb up those stairs without associating them with him.

the problem with working from home is that if you have no social appointments in the evening, it is easy to keep going past midnight. My colleague in France has already left the office for the day and she is the owner of the event I'm working late on! The good thing is that I managed to do several loads of laundry in between so at least I know I'll have clothes to travel in on Thursday.

I think I just booked my mom and myself tickets for a Salsa show that I'm actually performing at. I read last week in a salsa newsletter that troupe leader was bringing a salsa band to HK in mid November. I also vaguely recall troupe leader mentioning a performance in mid November with a band. During the rehearsal on Saturday, the girls were talking about having to entertain the band members during their stay. And then, I read today at hksalsa.com about the International Salsa Showcase featuring a popular salsa band the very weekend my mom arrives for her birthday. I didn't link them to the same occasion. So, this afternoon, I placed two bookings for mom and I to attend the concert, paying up in full. This evening, I received an email from troupe leader mentioning our performance at the same concert! I'll know tomorrow if we're performing on the night I'm booked. And then, I'm going to have to find someone to take over my ticket and host my mom. DUH!

Any takers?

I'm actually quite proud of myself. I've managed to get through the entire weekend without much tears. In fact, aside from one or two wellings, I don't think I've actually shed a tear. Took a nap this afternoon and dreamt of J. Nice. But there was a shady character lurking in the background whom I noticed behaving really shifty just before I woke up from it. It made me very anxious and I thought I should not fall back asleep just in case the shifty chap does something to J in my dream. As soon as that thought was out, my lids drooped uncontrollably. I fought to keep them open but to my dismay, slipped into a dream. Instead of trying to wake from the dream, I decided to control it. That worked. Next thing I knew, I was wide awake.

I've been on IM all afternoon but nobody seems to be online. It's totally depressing. My mom came online briefly and even she had to go mid chat when my sister and family showed up. I have been IM-deprived for a week now. Corporate IT policy doesn't allow the latest msn messenger nor any other chat clients so I've been cut off from my online buddies, including Salsa god, who is rarely online these days anyway. Too too quiet for me. I am fighting off the urge to cry but with so little distraction, it is difficult.

Went out to dinner with Tara tonight. It was good to ventilate about my feelings for J to someone in the flesh instead of just cyber-ranting. Tara's a great girl. I can so relate with her. She's wild and crazy and witty and reckless and so put-together. Brilliant!

Tired now despite the afternoon nap. Time to shower and then to bed.

how quickly the weekend has gone by. I had planned on going to a party Friday night but after J's departure on Thursday, I was not fit for party company so decided to have a couple of drinks with some colleagues to entertain a co-worker visiting from Sweden instead. It rained hard that night. A reflection of my emotional state. Yet for some reason, that mixed with two pints of beer buoyed my mood. Whenever the rain fell harder, I would drag a colleague with me into the street for a rain-dance. Four pints and four dances later, I was staggering uphill home on the arm of some German guy, friend of a colleague's, who dropped me off at the foot of my apartment building. I collapsed into bed straight from the shower and woke up the next morning with a royal hangover. It took me two hours to get out of bed for dance rehearsals at eleven.

Last night, I was certain I would go to the Regal for some Salsa exercise. The plan was to go at about eleven so that I could warm up for my hour at midnight. So I got to watching the tele and got stuck with Sean Connery and Katherina Zeta Jones in "Entrapment" until a quarter to midnight. It didn't make sense to be heading out by then with only another hour and half left to go before the music came to an end so I went to a club on Elgin street instead. It was the opening night for Nu, formerly known as Liquid. They had Salsa music earlier that evening but were only playing house music by the time I arrived at midnight. There was a congo player livening up the rhythms, too. The bar was rather quiet for an opening night, I thought. But forty minutes later, the place filled up with Salsa dancers just coming from a Brazilian concert. Among the group of salseros were John and Liz, visiting instructors from San Francisco, who gamely gave an ad hoc demonstration. Before I left, I danced with the congo player who was completely taken with the way I move on the dance floor. He had no recollection of having danced with me previously, which didn't surprise me one bit. Some people are more forgettable than others. Sometimes, that anonymity is useful.

And so it is Sunday evening once more and apart from going to church, I haven't done much else but have a friend visit with me for an hour. I think I need this quietude.

No matter how long you prepare for it, no matter how hard you try, it is impossible to prepare for 'goodbyes'. It feels like the tears will never stop and yet I know that it will pass. He will miss me. He said as much. Maybe that's enough. I love him. I couldn't say the words I needed him to know. I'm tired now. My head is heavy and my eyes are swollen. This is why I never want to fall in love again. But "never say never", he says to me. And I know some day, I will falter once more, and surrender more of my heart than I can bear at parting. I love him. All these months pretending we were only friends. I love him.

I can't think straight now. I'm tired and the tears are threatening again.

of being in love with someone you know you cannot have?
of losing someone who was never really yours to lose?
of pining after the ghost of your own illusion?

Don't go there, my friend. I know it all too well...

J: You are beautiful. Do you know that?
K: *smiles softly*
J: I'm not just saying that because of my hormones. *laughs*. I mean it. You are beautiful.
K: *pauses a moment* I feel beautiful when I'm with you.
J: You're beautiful even when you're not with me. You're beautiful when you're on your own. You're beautiful when you're walking in the street. You are beautiful. You just don't realise it.
*kiss*

*sniff*...I am going to miss him so so terribly...

Swordfish is on the menu tonight. This afternoon, I learned that swordfish is becoming an endangered species. That's the last time I put a swordfish through the checkout.

I have my window wide open as usual and smells of barbecued meats is wafting up from I don't know where. It is making me very very hungry. But worse, I'm worried that the aromas from outside is going to outshine my carefully prepared meal. Rats!

Phew! Been a busy few days. How quickly they've gone by. Didn't even have time to miss J as much as I thought I would. Well, we do speak nearly everyday so it doesn't really feel like he's away. But the reality is, tomorrow night is his last in Hong Kong and I am going to have to steel myself so I don't make a spectacle when I see him. I do love him so. He's my first and possibly my last love in Hong Kong. Perhaps that's too bold a statement to make and even premature, but with the kind of relationships I've been having lately, my emotions are spread too thin all around for me to be in danger of falling in love again.

The temperature has dropped noticeably tonight. There is a chilly draught coming through my open window. It's the changing of the seasons heralding the changes in my life. Tomorrow, I plan to make him a nice meal as a parting gift before we go to the racetracks. *sigh*...parting is such sweet sorrow indeed.

[a little aside]
My neighbour in the next building is taking a shower. I can see his moving silhouette against the back-lit window. I often wonder what he looks like. If he just opened his window a crack, I could be quite entertained. But he keeps his windows tightly shut, which is probably more his loss as my window is wide open all the time.

My bell was buzzing sooner than I had anticipated. We had only got off our IM session twenty minutes earlier when I playfully suggested he come over while midnight was still a few hours away. I hadn't expected him to take me seriously. It's hard to tell with him. I hadn't had time to clean my apartment and I really didn't want him (or anyone else for that matter!) to see how filthy my place was. And now, he was at my door and there was nothing I could do about it but to let him in.

He wore a bright smile as he walked through the open door. It felt genuine. There was a softness to his smile that I hadn't seen in a long time. None of that self-conscious grin he usually flashed to hide his discomfort. This smile reached his eyes. No, this smile started from his eyes. I remembered again why I thought him handsome. It isn't about physical good looks (which he has) as much as it is about the gentleness of one's soul. With his guard down, he was a gentle soul. I forgot my filthy apartment.

He planted a kiss on my lips which took me by surprise. Then he took my hands and raised them above my head. I twirled obediently. I put on a CD and we danced some more. He expertly spun and dipped me in liquid motion while his hips swayed ever so lightly, mesmerizing me. I let my head drop as far as it would go, nearly touching the floor. As he raised me back up, his lips traced my torso from navel to neck to lips. For a few intoxicating moments, we were locked in a passionate kiss. Then he pulls me away and the tease resumes.

This time, it is my turn. In an open stance, he holds me in a "shine" position as I twist first this way, and then that, all the while gyrating like a charmed snake. Then very slowly and deliberately, I uncoil myself, brushing up his thigh, then navel, then chest, before coiling my leg around his leg and dropping backwards, head towards the floor again. As I rise, his warm breath leaves a trail of feathery kisses up my torso once more. He spins me away and then pulls me into a sweetheart embrace, his snake uncoiled and pressed hard against my tush. My desire is fanned to a feverish pitch as our bodies throb and gyrate in unison. He spins me away and he's shining. I take his cue and shine as well, then drop to his knee and slowly rise, taking his shirt over his head. Tracing my fingers lightly down his hairy chest, I let them rest just at the waistband of his trousers, which bulge out of shape, and stop there. He takes my hands in his and holds them above my head and in a deft motion, takes the hem of my t-shirt over my head. I blush self-consciously and cover my breasts with my hands. He takes me tenderly in his arms and spins me until I forget my nakedness. My shorts are next to go. As I stand washed in the warm glow of the light overhead, I feel like a sprite, spinning and reeling around my mortal deity, in nothing but my skin.

ever taken an afternoon nap you couldn't seem to wake up from? I have a long week ahead of me and as I've had a really busy weekend so far, I decided to have an afternoon snooze after lunch and shopping. I crawled under the sheets at half past three thinking it would be an hour's siesta at the most but found myself staring at five o'clock when I opened my eyes momentarily. Then, I was back again in z-land, climbing up incredibly steep steps, that may as well have been a ladder, to get to the children's ward of a hospital to visit a friend's kid. I drifted back into consciousness and willed myself to wake but my lids have a will of their own and so I returned to find J waiting for me. He was going to help me move some piece of furniture. After he was done, he announced that he had to go. I was crestfallen but he reminded me that I already knew he had a flight to catch. I walked with him and my niece came along. We walked past a silver jewellery kiosk where he stopped for a look. I looked away and busied myself with my niece's braid, knowing full well he wasn't looking at something for me. He called to me to give my opinion on a very ornately engraved plate with a fine chain on either end of the plate. "Hmmm....very egyptian..." was all I offered, reluctantly. I drifted back into wakefulness again and told myself I must really get out of bed. But I succumbed to this drugged sleep once more and would have carried on this way for another hour had it not been for the phone ringing. Afternoon naps can be quite scary that way.

Yesterday, I went to watch the rehearsal for "Oklahoma". I surprised myself by staying awake throughout the four hour-long run-through. Despite my exhaustion from the previous night, I agreed to join the cast for drinks at the Fringe Club. Partway down from Glenealy School to the Fringe, a sandal strap gave way and I found myself walking the rest of the way barefeet. So when we came by my apartment, I suggested that my walk partner carry on ahead of me while I went up to pick up a new pair of sandals. As I was planning to go to a friend's barbecue dinner after drinks followed by Salsa, I decided to change into fresh clothes and pack my shoes for the evening. I sat on my bed staring at my wardrobe and thought I might have a five minute shut-eye. I opened them an hour later and missed drinks with my friends! The one hour nap did wonders however, as I went on after dinner to Salsa and danced until half past one.

After months away from the dance floor, I was anxious that I might trip on my own toes and fall flat on my face or worse, trip my partner so that he fell flat on his face. So I was very pleased to be introduced to a young, attractive Parisian-born half Vietnamese who is in Hong Kong on a business trip. Joseph introduced him as his "friend from France" and asked that I dance with him sometime that night. We chatted briefly before he invited me down to dance. I quietly heaved a sigh of relief. Merengue is a good dance to warm up with - not a demanding dance with a probably not-so demanding partner. I had no idea then that he was an excellent dancer I was lucky enough to have six dances with (much to the envy of many women!) or I might have declined the dance. A bachatta followed and I took the opportunity for further conversation as we danced. And then a Salsa piece came on and he asked for a third dance. I was flattered, to say the least! And damn! did we salsa! He had the ability to make the dance feel like a romantic and sensuous pursuit between him and his partner. When we danced, everything and everyone around us faded into the blurry distance like a disney fairytale. It was intoxicating. Totally surreal. Totally sexy! We had another three dances later in the evening. I wanted to take him home but better judgement prevailed.

I had one dance with Salsa god too. Luckily, it was after midnight by the time we danced. I'm a total clutz on the dance floor (except with French-Vietnamese boy) before midnight. Come midnight, my steps magically become lighter, my body more fluid and my confidence doubled, tripled, even quadrupled. This is no lie. So last night, I danced with Salsa god and for the first time, it didn't feel technical. For the first time, I was able to look into his eyes and feel a connection. It was beautiful even if fleeting.

A friend from the days of The Fiddler, Karine, was celebrating her tenth anniversary in Hong Kong tonight. On Tuesday, I met a mutual friend from Fiddler who asked if I would help with teaching the guests some Salsa. I said OK. I didn't know then that the party was on Peng Chau island. So, tonight, despite deadlines hanging over my head, I rushed home to pick up some Salsa CDs before catching the nine fifteen ferry. It crossed my mind to bail out but I didn't want to disappoint and so arrived quarter to ten at the party. Salsa didn't get organised until nearly eleven and then I learned that a couple visiting with Karine danced and sometimes taught Salsa in Scotland and were going to demonstrate and teach the basics to the guests. They'd brought music too so I really needn't have been there afterall. And just when I was getting into it, a bunch of guests left for the last ferry to Central. I didn't realise then that I was the only one left who was not living on Lamma island. The only way back was to take the water taxi Karine had hired for herself and her guests bound for Lamma. They would make a detour to Discovery Bay where I would be able to catch a two thirty ferry on another side of the island to get to Central.

The owner of the restaurant drew me a trail map from where the water taxi would drop me off to where I needed to go for the ferry to Central. His drawing was sketchy with no indications of intersections. Just the general direction to take. I made a couple of guessed turns and eventually found the ferry terminal. It was two twenty so I had another ten minutes before the ferry was bound to depart. I was wrong. The next ferry wasn't for another half hour. It was my first time on DB and I wasn't enjoying the visit. I got home about a half hour ago and now have to tackle that document due at nine in the morning. I'm so glad I decided to have a coffee this afternoon at four! Now I must work.

Tonight, I ate the best dinner I ever prepared -- swordfish steak in salsa sauce with sauteed herb potatoes and brocolli. Another quick and cheerful meal.

The sauce
Into the sauce went:
???two cups of peeled tomatoes
???one clove of garlic, peeled
???two cloves of shallots, peeled
???a generous drizzle of extra virgin olive oil
???a squeeze of half a lemon
???a handful of pine nuts
???a good dash of ground jalepeno pepper
???a dash of dill weed (I would have preferred fresh basil)
???a sprinkle of pepper and salt to taste

whir them all in a blender and voila! Salsa!! The colour is a bit pale though, so I'll try a dash of ground paprika next time to liven it up. I'll probably try stewing the sauce a little, too, to see what that's like.

The fish
The fish was lightly seasoned with sea salt and extra virgin olive oil. Sear that in a hot pan until cooked.

The potatoes
Slice a potato, scald the slices, season with salt, sautee in olive oil then serve with a sprinkle of dill weed.

The brocolli
Just scald your favourite veggies in boiling water. Very healthy.

It is the fear of unknown disappointments that leads us to make choices which often guarantee painful but predictable outcomes. Photos from our excursion to Macau and Victoria Peak last weekend are up.

We were blessed with gorgeous weather. The sky was vivid blue. The day was warm but not very humid. A sign of Fall approaching. We meant to take an early ferry but he didn't make our eight thirty breakfast rendezvous until nearly nine. And then we had to give the ten o'clock ferry a miss because he hadn't thought he'd need his passport. So we ended on the ten thirty-five and it wasn't until nearly noon that we were on the other side, past immigration. After ten minutes haggling with a car rental guy, we decided to take a taxi to the Senada Square where we walked the back streets and sampled sweet meats offered at the various stalls. That took care of our hunger for lunch.

After an hour's wander, we found ourselves at a park across from the church of St Antonio. I was on a mission to find the park in a painting hanging on my wall so we went in. Wrong park. Next was the ruins of St Paul's church which was just five minutes away on foot. The gray facade, which is the only significant structure that remains of the church, stood majestically against the brilliant blue sky. We spent twenty minutes wandering through the courtyard and up the steel steps for a look out the second floor windows before moving on to the steep climb up Forteleza de Monte. We missed the escalators on the other side of the hill. Mid-way, we took off our shoes and walked a path made of many polished stones designed for foot reflexology. That hurt so good and was topped with a foot massage which J decided to give me.

Feet refreshed, we resumed our upward climb to the top which commanded a panoramic view of the immediate surrounds looking out each cannon post. Up there, the air was cooled by the constant billowing breeze. The journey down was mercifully via escalators which gave my knees a welcome rest. They haven't been the same since the accident. Concerned for the stress on my knees, he suggested that we take a taxi to our next destination -- A-Ma Temple. Pronounced "Ma Ke", this is the temple that gave Macau its name. We chinese, will do anything for good luck. So it wasn't surprising to see dollar notes of asian currencies littering murky terrapin tanks and ponds. As I recall, there were coins strewn on the window ledge at St. Paul's too! A-Ma Temple, with its impressive legacy, was just another buddhist temple.

We hopped into another taxi and retraced our journey back part-way so we were at the Macau Convention Tower. About as tall as the Eiffel Tower in Paris, the Macau Tower provided not just a panoramic view of the city but a view directly below. Part of the floor on the Main viewing deck was made of glass. Walking this path is not a trip for the faint hearted. J perched at the edge of the glass windows angled up and out, and re-enacted his bungee preparation leap as he fell forward towards the glass pane. I did the same. My heart skipped a few beats as my mind anticipated the fall. Silly but fun. It was at this point in the excursion that J took me tenderly in his arms, laughing at my silliness. We wandered in a lover's embrace along the esplanade below and refreshed ourselves with a pint of beer each and some Portuguese sausages before heading off to Taipa for our first meal in Macau -- dinner.

We dined at what our taxi driver claimed to be one of the best Portuguese restaurants in Macau. It wasn't particularly impressive. We headed back for the ferry after dinner and arrived back on the island nearly ten in the evening. Back in Hong Kong, the reality of our separate lives took hold as he disentangled himself from our embrace and dropped me off at my doorstep. I collapsed from exhaustion, too tired to feel sad about the change. For a few good hours, we lived a different reality.