The Aberdeenshire council is responsible for the running of the schools in our area. One of the areas they're pretty good at is school lunches.
Connor generally eats the lunch that school provides. We buy him a book of school dinner tickets and then he exchanges them for a meal at school. The food's pretty good too.
I have since discovered that the council takes its job very seriously. It doesn't just provide a hot meal. They also try to take into account celebrations and change the menu accordingly. For St Andrew's Day, the school lunch menu was haggis, mince, neeps and tatties. I took one look and told Connor before we left for school that day that he should opt for sandwiches that day at the school dinner hall. My son doesn't like beef and potatoes. And I was pretty sure he would hate the haggis. Best to eat tuna sandwiches.
Unfortunately, my little boy didn't pay attention to me. So he lined up for the haggis option.
It was SO predictable what happened next.
My son came home at 3:30pm starving as he'd been completely grossed out by the haggis and had refused to eat anything on his dinner tray.
"What did you have for lunch today, Connor?"
"I had haggis!"
"Did you like it?"
"NO!!!!!!!!!!!!! It smells terrible!"
After I'd stopped laughing my eyes out, I fed my son.
Now if he's naughty, we threaten to feed him haggis. Hahahahahahaaaaaa......
Showing posts with label Multicultural. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Multicultural. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Typical Asian tourist holiday shot
Mum and a very reluctant Connor at our local Tesco
Why, why, why.
I dunno.
But my mum and dad loved, loved, loved our local Tesco because it was full of strange and exciting foods they'd never seen before in our little hometown in Malaysia.
Like scotch eggs.
So INSISTED on taking the shot.
Hmmm....
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
There is no D in Denmark
About two years ago, a friend of ours told us that there is no "D" sound in Denmark when you pronounce it in the Danish language. She is half-Danish and spoke Danish so I guess she must be right. But it seemed quite hilarious to me considering that Denmark (and Danish) starts with the letter D. She explained that Danish is one of those languages where you don't pronounce everything as it looks.
Two days ago, Dear Hubby was chatting with our neighbour. I'd met her a few days earlier when I was out with the boys, Connor on his bike and Anders in his stroller. When she asked about our new baby's name, Dear Hubby answered proudly, "AND-ers. My wife thought a Danish name would be nice as my family is originally Faroese."
"Ah!" she beamed. "AHN-ers!" Turns out she's Danish.
And that's how they pronounce it in Danish because...
...yes all together now...
There is no "D" in Denmark!
I should have just named him Bob and saved us all the confusion.
PS: We're sticking with "AND-ers"... some people pronounce it as "OHN-ders". It doesn't really matter because he's going to be called plain ol' Ah Boy anyway.
Two days ago, Dear Hubby was chatting with our neighbour. I'd met her a few days earlier when I was out with the boys, Connor on his bike and Anders in his stroller. When she asked about our new baby's name, Dear Hubby answered proudly, "AND-ers. My wife thought a Danish name would be nice as my family is originally Faroese."
"Ah!" she beamed. "AHN-ers!" Turns out she's Danish.
And that's how they pronounce it in Danish because...
...yes all together now...
There is no "D" in Denmark!
I should have just named him Bob and saved us all the confusion.
PS: We're sticking with "AND-ers"... some people pronounce it as "OHN-ders". It doesn't really matter because he's going to be called plain ol' Ah Boy anyway.
Thursday, July 18, 2013
East vs West: Matters of security
"Your house is not very safe. Your apartment in KL was much safer."
"Why do you say that, Ma?"
"Aiyaaaa.... KL apartment got security guard, got high walls, got big fence! Just look at your fence! It's so low even I can hurdle over it! You should build a higher fence!"
"What for, Ma?"
"So that no robbers can get in!"
"What robbers, Ma?"
It is definitely a Malaysian thing to put iron grilles over your glass windows so that no one can smash their way in, build as high and as sturdy a fence as you can to deter all bad men, install the world's biggest gate and to quadruple lock every single door in your house.
When my parents came to our house, they were astonished to see the fence that surrounded our house was made of (what they thought of as) flimsy wood. Even worse, Connor was taller than the fence! None of our windows had any grilles on them either. To them, we were sitting ducks for anyone who wanted to break in. How could I be so irresponsible with regards to security when I have their precious grandsons living here?
I explained to them the low crime rate in our tiny village and "...look, every other house here doesn't have grilles and fences either!" but I don't think I convinced them. I know how they feel because I felt the very same way when I first came to the UK.
I love seeing our new home through their eyes. It makes everything new again.
Thursday, June 6, 2013
East vs West: Connor's lunch
Last weekend, we had someone in to measure our hallway for new carpets. Connor and I were having our lunch in our kitchen. Mummy had cooked delicious chicken rice porridge with an egg cracked in, all seasoned lovingly with sesame oil and some soy sauce. Connor adores chicken rice porridge and can eat bowls and bowls of it.
When he's off to Primary 1 come August, I'm planning to send him off with chicken rice porridge for lunch. I'm Malaysian. The standard kid's school lunch of a sandwich and a bag of crisps plus two slices of apple doesn't really count as lunch in our eyes. For us, lunch = plate of rice + vege + some slices of chicken. Or char kuey teow. Or a bowl of prawn noodles. To us, sandwiches is party food and nibbles. Every time Dear Hubby tells me he has sandwiches for lunch at work, my heart bleeds for him as I always feel that can't be enough to fill him up.
When the carpet guy came into the kitchen to speak to us, he looked at our bowls and I could see he was clearly puzzled by what we were eating.
After he'd left, I told Dear Hubby, "I could see he was puzzling over what we were eating." Chicken rice porridge is not a very common lunch in Scotland, I guess. I don't think he could even begin to guess at what we were eating!
I can just imagine what Connor's friends in school would be saying about his lunch. "What are you eating, Connor? Chicken rice porridge??? Wow. Your mum's weird. Want a sandwich?"
When he's off to Primary 1 come August, I'm planning to send him off with chicken rice porridge for lunch. I'm Malaysian. The standard kid's school lunch of a sandwich and a bag of crisps plus two slices of apple doesn't really count as lunch in our eyes. For us, lunch = plate of rice + vege + some slices of chicken. Or char kuey teow. Or a bowl of prawn noodles. To us, sandwiches is party food and nibbles. Every time Dear Hubby tells me he has sandwiches for lunch at work, my heart bleeds for him as I always feel that can't be enough to fill him up.
When the carpet guy came into the kitchen to speak to us, he looked at our bowls and I could see he was clearly puzzled by what we were eating.
After he'd left, I told Dear Hubby, "I could see he was puzzling over what we were eating." Chicken rice porridge is not a very common lunch in Scotland, I guess. I don't think he could even begin to guess at what we were eating!
I can just imagine what Connor's friends in school would be saying about his lunch. "What are you eating, Connor? Chicken rice porridge??? Wow. Your mum's weird. Want a sandwich?"
Monday, April 29, 2013
27 Signs You were raised by Asian immigrant parents
Lovingly posted for my son(s). One day, they will read this post and nod their heads in agreement.
I confess to being the mum from No. 9, the one who's always convinced that her children will die of hypothermia without a jacket on.
No 13 made Dear Hubby laugh as it reminds him of my mum. My mum wraps every single remote control in the house. On his first visit to my family home, Dear Hubby wanted to know if all the fans and TVs were brand new. I said no, why do you ask that? He replied, "Because all the remotes are wrapped up in plastic!"
No 21 rings a bell too. During one of his first few Chinese New Year visits, Dear Hubby pulled me aside to ask if all my relatives were arguing. I said no, that's just how we talk at home. It was funny as heck because it dawned on Dear Hubby then that there was another side of me that he's rarely seen and one that I cannot change (not that I want to) and a part of me will always be alien to him.
One day, my son(s) will nod in agreement. I can see it happening even now. On CBeeBies, they always play a song around lunch time called What's On Your Plate? Various British kids will be shown, with their lunches and they'll shout out what they're eating. Invariably, they'll be shouting things like Pasta and ham! or Egg sandwiches! And there's my Connor, dancing around to the song, shouting "Rice and chicken and pork rib soup!"
I confess to being the mum from No. 9, the one who's always convinced that her children will die of hypothermia without a jacket on.
No 13 made Dear Hubby laugh as it reminds him of my mum. My mum wraps every single remote control in the house. On his first visit to my family home, Dear Hubby wanted to know if all the fans and TVs were brand new. I said no, why do you ask that? He replied, "Because all the remotes are wrapped up in plastic!"
No 21 rings a bell too. During one of his first few Chinese New Year visits, Dear Hubby pulled me aside to ask if all my relatives were arguing. I said no, that's just how we talk at home. It was funny as heck because it dawned on Dear Hubby then that there was another side of me that he's rarely seen and one that I cannot change (not that I want to) and a part of me will always be alien to him.
One day, my son(s) will nod in agreement. I can see it happening even now. On CBeeBies, they always play a song around lunch time called What's On Your Plate? Various British kids will be shown, with their lunches and they'll shout out what they're eating. Invariably, they'll be shouting things like Pasta and ham! or Egg sandwiches! And there's my Connor, dancing around to the song, shouting "Rice and chicken and pork rib soup!"
Saturday, March 16, 2013
I'm famous!
Have you ever wanted to be famous? One of those instantly recognisable celebs? The person that everyone else knows?
Then follow in my footsteps. Move to rural Scotland!
I'm famous because get this... I'm the one and only Chinese in our little village! Yes! The ONE and ONLY! I'm unique and as rare as a panda!
I don't know what the population of the village is but it seems to be 99% white. There are about 3-4 Indian/Pakistani families whom I see regularly at school and then there's our family who seem to be the only white-Chinese family in the whole area.
So everyone knows me. Or at least knows my face. Because I'm the only one in the village with little chinky eyes. ;)
The problem is I'm very bad with faces and names and am still struggling to remember who's who. I can remember the faces but I'm quite hopeless at matching them with names. Sometimes I wish all the other parents had name tags so that I can get a little help. It's embarrassing to keep asking for someone's name when you see them on a daily basis albeit for 10 minutes at a time.
Just wait till summer when my family comes to visit the new baby... and oh! This little village of ours will be bursting at the seams with Chinese people!
Hahahahahahaaaaa......
Note: Just in case you're wondering... Aberdeen itself is very cosmopolitan and there are quite a few Malaysians/Singaporeans knocking about there. They are either working in the oil industry or are students at the local U's. It's just that the further you get out into the countryside, the whiter the population gets. I've never had a problem with racism in the UK and people in Aberdeen are quite well-travelled as many work in the oil industry and have been all over the world.
Then follow in my footsteps. Move to rural Scotland!
I'm famous because get this... I'm the one and only Chinese in our little village! Yes! The ONE and ONLY! I'm unique and as rare as a panda!
I don't know what the population of the village is but it seems to be 99% white. There are about 3-4 Indian/Pakistani families whom I see regularly at school and then there's our family who seem to be the only white-Chinese family in the whole area.
So everyone knows me. Or at least knows my face. Because I'm the only one in the village with little chinky eyes. ;)
The problem is I'm very bad with faces and names and am still struggling to remember who's who. I can remember the faces but I'm quite hopeless at matching them with names. Sometimes I wish all the other parents had name tags so that I can get a little help. It's embarrassing to keep asking for someone's name when you see them on a daily basis albeit for 10 minutes at a time.
Just wait till summer when my family comes to visit the new baby... and oh! This little village of ours will be bursting at the seams with Chinese people!
Hahahahahahaaaaa......
Note: Just in case you're wondering... Aberdeen itself is very cosmopolitan and there are quite a few Malaysians/Singaporeans knocking about there. They are either working in the oil industry or are students at the local U's. It's just that the further you get out into the countryside, the whiter the population gets. I've never had a problem with racism in the UK and people in Aberdeen are quite well-travelled as many work in the oil industry and have been all over the world.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
East vs West: Salesmen
My first job was in Sales. The big American company that hired me was in the process of replacing the old guard with fresh-faced young graduates like me. I can understand the rationale behind it as us young ones were then expected to move up through the ranks and be managers and heads of department one day. The old guard were wily, cunning and good at their job but as most of them could barely write a sentence in English, there was no way they would be making their way to the top there. It was a shame though as very few of us ambitious young graduates had the street smarts of the old guard and I learnt a lot from them.
Anyway, one day angmoh Sales Director decided it would be a good idea to buy the motivational book "Who Moved My Cheese?" for the entire sales team. The young ones flipped through the book enthusiastically while the old guard scratched their heads and wondered if they could get us to translate the whole book into Mandarin for them to read.
At the meeting where we would be given copies of the book, the Sales Director launched into a tale about a mouse and his ambitions. Everything was lost on the old guard who nudged the young ones from time to time. "Kong si mi lai?" (Hokkien: What's he talking about?)
Then came the moment where it would lead to the unveiling of the book. It was The Moment the tale of the mouse had been leading up to. It was The Moment where Sales Director asked the team, "And what do you use to tempt a mouse?" Assistant Sales Director, a local Chinese guy, helpfully translated for the old guard.
Up shot an enthusiastic old guard sales. "SOTONG!!!!!!!!!!!"
The deflation of the Sales Director when his underlings explained it to him (after they'd stopped laughing) was priceless. For how was he to know that Malaysians use dried sotong to bait the local mouse/rat traps and not cheese?
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Blog-hopping: Colours of my life
I went along to say hello to Hampshire Mummy's blog and I found this post that was utterly hilarious.
It's a video made by a girl. I'm guessing she's a Pakistani-American who is Muslim and it's called "I don't understand white people".
I'm not Pakistani, I'm not Muslim but I can totally relate to the inter-cultural confusion she portrays in the hilarious vid.
Sometimes you get the weirdest questions when you meet people of another culture who haven't been exposed to yours. "Do you know kungfu?" has to be one of the more memorable ones posed to me over the years.
Dear Hubby has had to endure his share of weird questions too. My uncle (who must have been drunk then) had this to say when meeting him for the first time: "So... you're English. Do you know Robin Hood? Sheriff of Nottingham?"
Me and my marketing gang in my old office, upon learning our boss' wife is Austrian: "You must like Sound of Music!"
Do watch the vid and laugh - I think it's great that we're all different in some ways, life would be so boring if everyone were ALL the same all the time.
It's a video made by a girl. I'm guessing she's a Pakistani-American who is Muslim and it's called "I don't understand white people".
I'm not Pakistani, I'm not Muslim but I can totally relate to the inter-cultural confusion she portrays in the hilarious vid.
Sometimes you get the weirdest questions when you meet people of another culture who haven't been exposed to yours. "Do you know kungfu?" has to be one of the more memorable ones posed to me over the years.
Dear Hubby has had to endure his share of weird questions too. My uncle (who must have been drunk then) had this to say when meeting him for the first time: "So... you're English. Do you know Robin Hood? Sheriff of Nottingham?"
Me and my marketing gang in my old office, upon learning our boss' wife is Austrian: "You must like Sound of Music!"
Do watch the vid and laugh - I think it's great that we're all different in some ways, life would be so boring if everyone were ALL the same all the time.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
East vs West: How do you like 'em eggs?
"What are you doing? Are you mad?"
"What?"
"You're putting soy sauce on your eggs."
"I'm CHINESE! I put soy sauce on everything!"
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
East vs West: Dinner
The first time my mum has roast chicken at our home here in Kuala Lumpur....
Me: Okay everybody! Dinner is almost ready!
Mum: Let me help you.
Me: Okay, just help me put the chicken outside while I finish the gravy.
(A little later...)
Me: Dinner is served! Roast chicken! Come and get it!
(My mum wanders up and looks at the food on offer - roast chicken, roast potatoes, steamed veg)
Mum: (genuinely surprised) Where's the rice?
Me: Okay everybody! Dinner is almost ready!
Mum: Let me help you.
Me: Okay, just help me put the chicken outside while I finish the gravy.
(A little later...)
Me: Dinner is served! Roast chicken! Come and get it!
(My mum wanders up and looks at the food on offer - roast chicken, roast potatoes, steamed veg)
Mum: (genuinely surprised) Where's the rice?
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
East vs West: Lunch
Me: Ooh! I shall have rice porridge for lunch tomorrow! With pickled lettuce! And a fried egg! With soy sauce! Yum-yum!
Dear Hubby: You're a very strange person.
Dear Hubby: You're a very strange person.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Connor is a...?
Me: Daddy is a...?
Connor: Daddy is a gwailo!
Me: What about Mummy?
Connor: Mummy is a Chinese!
Me: What about Connor then? Connor is a...?
Connor: (thinks for a while) Is a me!
I thought that was a very good answer from our little boy.
Connor: Daddy is a gwailo!
Me: What about Mummy?
Connor: Mummy is a Chinese!
Me: What about Connor then? Connor is a...?
Connor: (thinks for a while) Is a me!
I thought that was a very good answer from our little boy.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
East vs West: John's wife
See, I can't get John out of my head because it's the Seventh Month. I'm sure I'll forget him once the Eighth Month comes along and I'm all ready to buy lanterns for Connor to play with during the Mid-Autumn Festival.
This time, the joke's on the local Marketing team.
John had asked his wife to visit him at work so that we could all meet the family. Upon learning his wife is Austrian, the Marketing team immediately crowded around her and exclaimed excitedly "Oh wow! You are Austrian! You must like the Sound of Music!"
Turns out she'd never heard of the film, much less seen it. Cue gasps of horror from the Malaysians as almost all of us had been brought up on the Sound of Music film and soundtrack. "WHAT??? You mean you don't know it? You know... Maria? Captain von Trapp? The hills are aliiiiive...?" No. No. No.
John had to explain to his disappointed team that the Sound of Music is an American film, not an Austrian film and that Austrians generally do not make clothing out of curtain scraps or sing songs while dancing about on hills.
Boy. What a crushing blow that was.
Friday, August 12, 2011
East vs West: The Hungry Ghost Month, Part II
A few months after John first learns about how Hungry Ghosts can impact one's sales figures, the marketing team is back in front of him to present their plans for the next year.
As the team drones on and on about the various activities they will put into place for the coming year, John suddenly perks up.
"Hang on, hang on."
Everyone wakes up from their open-eyed slumber (those of you who have had to suffer through company meetings will know what I mean). Ooh, Marketing Director is talking. We'd better pay attention.
"That event there that you're planning... is that the same event as this year's?
"Yes."
"The same time?"
"Yes."
There is a pause as everyone wonders what John is leading up to.
"So erm... next year, will those Hungry Ghosts come out at the same time as this year? Because you know... they impacted sales figures this year and I don't want the same thing to happen next year."
That was when we knew we had a smart man in charge. Hehe.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
East vs West: The Hungry Ghost Month Part I
It is the inauspicious 7th month in the Chinese lunar calendar and every time this month rolls around, I think of John. Not because he's unlucky, no. John was my ex-marketing director and the 7th month was the first in many confusing cultural lessons for him.
John: So why were the numbers low even though we had this event? I thought with spending on the event, we should be generating really big sales.
Marketing team: John, I think one of the reasons is that it was the Chinese 7th month.
John: What? 7th month?
Marketing team: (extremely enthusiastically, you know.. that enthusiastic tone we locals adopt when we realise we have a chance to teach confused gwailos a little something about our culture?) Oh John! It's the 7th month! It's the Hungry Ghost month! It's when the gates of hell open up and all the ghosts come wandering out on earth for a month! Chinese people tend to stay at home at night to avoid them!
There was complete silence after the Marketing team's explanation... which was incidentally extremely logical to all the locals present as we all knew some Chinese still avoid coming out at night during that month. If they don't come out, they don't buy stuff. If they don't buy stuff, we don't get good sales numbers. And everyone in Malaysia knows people come out at night/weekends to buy stuff because during the day, we're busy at work and busy being stuck in horrible traffic jams.
I was not in the meeting but I imagine John's expression must have been a WTF??? expression of the highest order. I'm sure he's wondering how to write a report back to New York on how sales are not picking up because of hungry ghosts.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
An Indonesian wedding in Jakarta's Rumah Maroko
On Friday afternoon, Dear Hubby called to say we'd received an invite for a wedding of one of the partners in his company and he wanted very much to attend. OOH. I was pretty pleased because I wanted to experience what an Indonesian wedding was like. (Perhaps the word "Indonesian" here is not the correct one as Indonesia is very diverse. I think the wedding was Javanese in nature... not quite sure. I wanted to ask around but the music was so loud proper conversation wasn't possible.)
Anyway the invite said it was going to be held the next day in Rumah Maroko (Morocco House). By coincidence, the place was featured in that day's Jakarta Globe. Wah. Look very grand hor. Then it hit me - what on earth am I going to wear??? Although I've lost almost all of my pregnancy weight, I'm not back to the shape I was pre-baby and can't quite yet squeeze back into my old dresses. Luckily I'd kept a dress from my fat days (yes I was erm... chubby at one point in my life, so I know how it feels like to be not size 8 and not pregnant) and slipped it on. Loose but wearable. Phew. Moral of the story - forget not thy (fatty bum-bum) roots.
The next day, Madam Not-Quite-Yet-Fit-Back-Into-Old-Clothes Expat went off to get her hair done. I knew everyone would be glammed up for the event and I knew that I hadn't a hope of out-glamming the ladies of Jakarta but I had to look like at least I'd tried. And yes, dear readers, the hairdresser gave me a hairdo that made me look a little like those Jakartan high society Imelda Marcos lookalikes kik-koking in their high heels. I think Jakartan hairdressers only know one style of blow-dry. ;) Connor actually looked doutbfully at me when I arrived home and cuddled him so I knew I must look very different.
It was a 40 minute drive from our house in Kemang to Rumah Maroko in Menteng. The janur told us which street had the wedding party. A janur is an ornament woven out of coconut fronds and is usually placed at the entrance of the street where the wedding ceremony is taking place. I think my syntax is all wrong in that last sentence but I don't know how to fix it. Anyway.... it's just like the bunga manggar we have back home in Malaysia.
Wah. It was impressive - a white dome rising up above the rest of the houses lining the quiet street. We signed the guest book and entered Rumah Maroko. The corridor leads to a large room with a huge chandelier hanging from its ceiling and a trio of musicians playing Moroccan music in the corner. We are ushered through another door and it opens out to a set of steps which lead out to an open air courtyard. There was a buffet line in the courtyard and a live band was accompanying a female vocalist who was singing love songs. I looked up to see the night sky and a solitary cloud and looked downwards towards the guests.
Wah. WAH. W A H.
Look at all that hair, baby! Fuyoh... I bet LOTS of hairspray had been used! Looked like the set of a new game show - Who Wants To Be Imelda Marcos. I'm sure plenty of the attendees were Who's Who in Jakartan high society as our host is a society man but I hadn't the faintest idea who they were. Apparently Indonesian Tattler was there to cover the wedding but no one approached us to pose for photies. I guess they recognise hoi polloi when they see 'em. Maybe I should have asked the hairdresser for more hairspray.
The invite said the reception starts at 7pm but when we left at 9pm, there were people who were just arriving. According to our driver, this is perfectly acceptable in Indonesia. Our host, the groom, greeted us when we arrived and accepted our congratulations and urged us to have a bite to eat. We joined the queue at the buffet and tried a bit of everything. Okay.. I like a lot of things in Indonesia but one thing that has yet to win my heart is the cuisine.
Halfway through the reception, the groom disappeared and then re-appeared minutes later with his beautiful blushing bride (the only woman there beside me without big-big hair but then she had a head covering on) as the emcee announced their entrance. The happy groom then made a speech and we all clapped and cheered.
Then the karaoke started and we decided to leave. We'd brought Connor along, left him with the maid in a quieter part of Rumah Maroko and decided it was time to get him home. So we sought out our host to congratulate him again and said our goodbyes.
This was quite different from our own wedding. We had a traditional Chinese wedding and we spent most of the time sitting at our guest-of-honour table, doing the yamseng rounds and going up on stage for yamseng and cake-cutting. I barely got a bite to eat and never got to talk to any of our guests.
We had a good time and it was really our first night out together alone since Connor was born. Rumah Maroko is open for events such as weddings, birthday parties... perhaps a product launch? You can check out their website at www.morocco-andalucia.com
Anyway the invite said it was going to be held the next day in Rumah Maroko (Morocco House). By coincidence, the place was featured in that day's Jakarta Globe. Wah. Look very grand hor. Then it hit me - what on earth am I going to wear??? Although I've lost almost all of my pregnancy weight, I'm not back to the shape I was pre-baby and can't quite yet squeeze back into my old dresses. Luckily I'd kept a dress from my fat days (yes I was erm... chubby at one point in my life, so I know how it feels like to be not size 8 and not pregnant) and slipped it on. Loose but wearable. Phew. Moral of the story - forget not thy (fatty bum-bum) roots.
The next day, Madam Not-Quite-Yet-Fit-Back-Into-Old-Clothes Expat went off to get her hair done. I knew everyone would be glammed up for the event and I knew that I hadn't a hope of out-glamming the ladies of Jakarta but I had to look like at least I'd tried. And yes, dear readers, the hairdresser gave me a hairdo that made me look a little like those Jakartan high society Imelda Marcos lookalikes kik-koking in their high heels. I think Jakartan hairdressers only know one style of blow-dry. ;) Connor actually looked doutbfully at me when I arrived home and cuddled him so I knew I must look very different.
It was a 40 minute drive from our house in Kemang to Rumah Maroko in Menteng. The janur told us which street had the wedding party. A janur is an ornament woven out of coconut fronds and is usually placed at the entrance of the street where the wedding ceremony is taking place. I think my syntax is all wrong in that last sentence but I don't know how to fix it. Anyway.... it's just like the bunga manggar we have back home in Malaysia.
Wah. It was impressive - a white dome rising up above the rest of the houses lining the quiet street. We signed the guest book and entered Rumah Maroko. The corridor leads to a large room with a huge chandelier hanging from its ceiling and a trio of musicians playing Moroccan music in the corner. We are ushered through another door and it opens out to a set of steps which lead out to an open air courtyard. There was a buffet line in the courtyard and a live band was accompanying a female vocalist who was singing love songs. I looked up to see the night sky and a solitary cloud and looked downwards towards the guests.
Wah. WAH. W A H.
Look at all that hair, baby! Fuyoh... I bet LOTS of hairspray had been used! Looked like the set of a new game show - Who Wants To Be Imelda Marcos. I'm sure plenty of the attendees were Who's Who in Jakartan high society as our host is a society man but I hadn't the faintest idea who they were. Apparently Indonesian Tattler was there to cover the wedding but no one approached us to pose for photies. I guess they recognise hoi polloi when they see 'em. Maybe I should have asked the hairdresser for more hairspray.
The invite said the reception starts at 7pm but when we left at 9pm, there were people who were just arriving. According to our driver, this is perfectly acceptable in Indonesia. Our host, the groom, greeted us when we arrived and accepted our congratulations and urged us to have a bite to eat. We joined the queue at the buffet and tried a bit of everything. Okay.. I like a lot of things in Indonesia but one thing that has yet to win my heart is the cuisine.
Halfway through the reception, the groom disappeared and then re-appeared minutes later with his beautiful blushing bride (the only woman there beside me without big-big hair but then she had a head covering on) as the emcee announced their entrance. The happy groom then made a speech and we all clapped and cheered.
Then the karaoke started and we decided to leave. We'd brought Connor along, left him with the maid in a quieter part of Rumah Maroko and decided it was time to get him home. So we sought out our host to congratulate him again and said our goodbyes.
This was quite different from our own wedding. We had a traditional Chinese wedding and we spent most of the time sitting at our guest-of-honour table, doing the yamseng rounds and going up on stage for yamseng and cake-cutting. I barely got a bite to eat and never got to talk to any of our guests.
We had a good time and it was really our first night out together alone since Connor was born. Rumah Maroko is open for events such as weddings, birthday parties... perhaps a product launch? You can check out their website at www.morocco-andalucia.com
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Gong Xi Fa Cai to everyone in the Year of the Ox!
Hello again, Malaysia!
We flew back on Wed evening and once again, it was a pretty easy flight. Phew. Connor's still at the stage where he's asleep most of the time we're out, so flying isn't too hard.
This time we're back for 2 reasons. One is to meet his Aunty K who's flown here from Ireland with her hubby. It's their 25th wedding anniversary and Uncle R decided to surprise his wife with a holiday in the tropics. This is their first time in Asia and we thought we'd come over so they could meet their newest nephew.
Another reason is for Chinese New Year which falls on Jan 26 this year. This is Dear Hubby's 3rd CNY and the cultural divide is as wide as ever as he struggles to comprehend why seemingly logical people would do illogical things such as not sweeping the floors on the 1st day of CNY, insisting on wearing red garments and eating certain items simply because they "...have an auspicious name".
It is Connor's 1st CNY celebration and we are headed home to my little hometown to bai nian at my parents'. He has no idea how excited his mommy is as she's bringing her little one to see the home she grew up in. There's just something very special about bringing your own little one back to where you came from for the very first time. This is the first time I'll be going home with a bit of me outside of me! Hehe.
To everyone, Gong Xi Fa Cai..... may you enjoy a happy and prosperous start to the Year of the Ox! *tong-tong-tong-chiang!*
We flew back on Wed evening and once again, it was a pretty easy flight. Phew. Connor's still at the stage where he's asleep most of the time we're out, so flying isn't too hard.
This time we're back for 2 reasons. One is to meet his Aunty K who's flown here from Ireland with her hubby. It's their 25th wedding anniversary and Uncle R decided to surprise his wife with a holiday in the tropics. This is their first time in Asia and we thought we'd come over so they could meet their newest nephew.
Another reason is for Chinese New Year which falls on Jan 26 this year. This is Dear Hubby's 3rd CNY and the cultural divide is as wide as ever as he struggles to comprehend why seemingly logical people would do illogical things such as not sweeping the floors on the 1st day of CNY, insisting on wearing red garments and eating certain items simply because they "...have an auspicious name".
It is Connor's 1st CNY celebration and we are headed home to my little hometown to bai nian at my parents'. He has no idea how excited his mommy is as she's bringing her little one to see the home she grew up in. There's just something very special about bringing your own little one back to where you came from for the very first time. This is the first time I'll be going home with a bit of me outside of me! Hehe.
To everyone, Gong Xi Fa Cai..... may you enjoy a happy and prosperous start to the Year of the Ox! *tong-tong-tong-chiang!*
Saturday, May 3, 2008
When East Meets West: Ep 1
While I was taking a breather today, I recalled next week is Mother's Day and reminded myself I must send a card off to my MIL. This is the first year I can co-sign the card, you see.
Thinking about her always makes me think about the time when we both went to the World Museum in Liverpool. When we reached the section about Marine Life, we looked around for a sea cucumber in the aquariums. I'd been telling her about how we Chinese eat it and she'd wanted to see it.
We wandered into a section where they kept erm... what do you call it.. those stuffed samples of animals? and looked for it. Couldn't find it, so she asked one of the museum staff, "Do you have any sea cucumbers?" "Yes, we do! Just come here with me!" he beamed at us, pleased someone was interested.
So we trotted after him and he pulled out a glass case with the carefully kept remains of a sea cucumber. "Ooh..." we went. He started his lecture, "This is a sea cucumber... Latin name Ihaveforgottenus whatziswas. It lives in so-and-so place and its main diet is so-and-so icky things. The most amazing thing about a sea cucumber is that when it is attacked, it can expel its intestines and confuse the attacker, enabling it to swim away." He ended his mini lecture with a wave of his hands (bye-bye sea cucumber, you forgot your intestines!) and smiled at us, clearly expecting us to praise his efforts or ask more questions.
I know he never saw what was coming. Beaming back at him, my MIL gestured at me and said warmly, "She eats them, you know! She's Chinese, they eat sea cucumbers!"
You could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed.
My MIL was beaming, I was smiling apologetically at the young man and he was looking simply horrified that I was so.... so.... uncivilised as to be eating something like a sea cucumber, the poor harmless thing.
Finally, he recovered his senses and quickly placed the glass case back. He managed a stiff, "Oh. Right." and walked away as quickly as he could as we burst into laughter.
Happy Mother's Day to my MIL!
Thinking about her always makes me think about the time when we both went to the World Museum in Liverpool. When we reached the section about Marine Life, we looked around for a sea cucumber in the aquariums. I'd been telling her about how we Chinese eat it and she'd wanted to see it.
We wandered into a section where they kept erm... what do you call it.. those stuffed samples of animals? and looked for it. Couldn't find it, so she asked one of the museum staff, "Do you have any sea cucumbers?" "Yes, we do! Just come here with me!" he beamed at us, pleased someone was interested.
So we trotted after him and he pulled out a glass case with the carefully kept remains of a sea cucumber. "Ooh..." we went. He started his lecture, "This is a sea cucumber... Latin name Ihaveforgottenus whatziswas. It lives in so-and-so place and its main diet is so-and-so icky things. The most amazing thing about a sea cucumber is that when it is attacked, it can expel its intestines and confuse the attacker, enabling it to swim away." He ended his mini lecture with a wave of his hands (bye-bye sea cucumber, you forgot your intestines!) and smiled at us, clearly expecting us to praise his efforts or ask more questions.
I know he never saw what was coming. Beaming back at him, my MIL gestured at me and said warmly, "She eats them, you know! She's Chinese, they eat sea cucumbers!"
You could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed.
My MIL was beaming, I was smiling apologetically at the young man and he was looking simply horrified that I was so.... so.... uncivilised as to be eating something like a sea cucumber, the poor harmless thing.
Finally, he recovered his senses and quickly placed the glass case back. He managed a stiff, "Oh. Right." and walked away as quickly as he could as we burst into laughter.
Happy Mother's Day to my MIL!
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Being Expat-ised 101: Social skills at expat parties
When I first started dating Dear Hubby, there wasn't much of a culture shock. After all, we two were mad Liverpool fans and therefore of one heart already, we knew exactly when we wanted to hold hands and exactly when we wanted to jump up and cheer, we loved eating dinner seated on the couch, plates on laps, eyes glued to Sportscenter on ESPN.
But when he started introducing me to his social circle, I suddenly realised that I had a whole new set of social skills to learn. All the social skills that had kept me going at mamak stall sessions suddenly didn't seem enough to survive an expat party!
So here we go, my first attempt at writing Being Expat-ised 101: Social skills at expat party (based on my own experience)
1. How do you do?
Strangely enough, I've yet to meet a Brit who says that despite what repeated viewings of My Fair Lady has taught me. I used to feel perplexed when I met new people - do I just shake hands or do I kiss them on the cheek or what? *blur* I've had embarrassing situations where people want to kiss/shake my hand and I end up trying to do the exact oppposite. Adoi.
What I've learnt is that ALWAYS LET THEM START THE GREETING. If they hold out their hand and the other arm is at their side, this means shake hands only, no kissy-kissy. If both arms come out, prepare for kissy-kissy but sometimes it doesn't happen, so don't lean your body in until they do. If kissy-kissy does happen, always wait for them to offer other cheek before attempting to mwah-mwah dahleeng! them on both sides of their faces.
2. Table manners
Numero Uno - learn how to chew with your mouth shut. It's so disgusting otherwise. Yuck.
And the cutlery. Oh god, where do I start? To this day, I can't tell the difference between a salad fork and the soup spoon. Last year in Scotland, I attended a series of company do's with Dear Hubby's Top-Top Boss. Very anxious not to make Dear Hubby look like an idiot at dinner, I'd actually checked up on cutlery and table etiquette online but of course, all of that flew out of my head once I sat down at table. As with saying hello, let others start first. If they pick up the fork on the left for the salad, do the same. So always take your time with your napkin while keeping your eyes peeled.
This backfired on me one day when EVERYONE took their time with their napkins and insisted ladies started eating first. I was like, "SHIT! Cannot la!" This is where you must trumpet your Asian superiority to cover up for your ignorance and so I picked up a random fork and said in my most charming voice, "You know... we Chinese just have one type of chopstick, none of this salad fork and butter knife thing - how on earth do you Brits keep track of it all?" And then it turned out that these Brits weren't too sure either and one of them admitted, "I just watch what others do actually." Alamak.
3. Watch your drink
If you're like me, you'll probably manage a max of 3 vodka lemonades before you get extremely sociable and happy. So be careful, watch your drink. This is not the mamak stall where 10 teh ais won't do anything except keep you awake all night. Mix your own drink if you can at parties or tell your host exactly how you like your drink. You won't remember you were being an asshole but everyone else will. Always eat some fat before you drink, it helps slow down the absorption of alcohol into your body. If you're really worried about your drink, do what I do sometimes - pop some innocent, small mints into those little meds bags you get from the docs. Once you arrive at the party, ask for a glass of water and in full view of everyone, pop your "medication". Then announce you are on painkillers/antibiotics and can't drink. Ta-dah!!!
I hope this is of some help to any aspiring SPG reading this. :)))
(For definition of SPG, go here)
But when he started introducing me to his social circle, I suddenly realised that I had a whole new set of social skills to learn. All the social skills that had kept me going at mamak stall sessions suddenly didn't seem enough to survive an expat party!
So here we go, my first attempt at writing Being Expat-ised 101: Social skills at expat party (based on my own experience)
1. How do you do?
Strangely enough, I've yet to meet a Brit who says that despite what repeated viewings of My Fair Lady has taught me. I used to feel perplexed when I met new people - do I just shake hands or do I kiss them on the cheek or what? *blur* I've had embarrassing situations where people want to kiss/shake my hand and I end up trying to do the exact oppposite. Adoi.
What I've learnt is that ALWAYS LET THEM START THE GREETING. If they hold out their hand and the other arm is at their side, this means shake hands only, no kissy-kissy. If both arms come out, prepare for kissy-kissy but sometimes it doesn't happen, so don't lean your body in until they do. If kissy-kissy does happen, always wait for them to offer other cheek before attempting to mwah-mwah dahleeng! them on both sides of their faces.
2. Table manners
Numero Uno - learn how to chew with your mouth shut. It's so disgusting otherwise. Yuck.
And the cutlery. Oh god, where do I start? To this day, I can't tell the difference between a salad fork and the soup spoon. Last year in Scotland, I attended a series of company do's with Dear Hubby's Top-Top Boss. Very anxious not to make Dear Hubby look like an idiot at dinner, I'd actually checked up on cutlery and table etiquette online but of course, all of that flew out of my head once I sat down at table. As with saying hello, let others start first. If they pick up the fork on the left for the salad, do the same. So always take your time with your napkin while keeping your eyes peeled.
This backfired on me one day when EVERYONE took their time with their napkins and insisted ladies started eating first. I was like, "SHIT! Cannot la!" This is where you must trumpet your Asian superiority to cover up for your ignorance and so I picked up a random fork and said in my most charming voice, "You know... we Chinese just have one type of chopstick, none of this salad fork and butter knife thing - how on earth do you Brits keep track of it all?" And then it turned out that these Brits weren't too sure either and one of them admitted, "I just watch what others do actually." Alamak.
3. Watch your drink
If you're like me, you'll probably manage a max of 3 vodka lemonades before you get extremely sociable and happy. So be careful, watch your drink. This is not the mamak stall where 10 teh ais won't do anything except keep you awake all night. Mix your own drink if you can at parties or tell your host exactly how you like your drink. You won't remember you were being an asshole but everyone else will. Always eat some fat before you drink, it helps slow down the absorption of alcohol into your body. If you're really worried about your drink, do what I do sometimes - pop some innocent, small mints into those little meds bags you get from the docs. Once you arrive at the party, ask for a glass of water and in full view of everyone, pop your "medication". Then announce you are on painkillers/antibiotics and can't drink. Ta-dah!!!
I hope this is of some help to any aspiring SPG reading this. :)))
(For definition of SPG, go here)
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