Hiking

Happy 5th wedding anniversary to my frequent hiking buddy Pam, whose hubby made her a blushing, "kilig" girl-woman this morning by sending 24 long-stemmed roses anonymously.

Places Pam, sometimes Maya, sometimes Mida, me (and Shy a long time ago) have been to: the Peak Morning Trail, Pok Fu Lam Country Park leading to the Reservoir, Long Fu Shan Country Park, Pinewood Battery Heritage Trail and Long Fu Shan Fitness Trail, Part of Trail 4 of the HK Trail from Black's Link to the beginning of Deepwater Bay Road, Wong Nai Chung Gap Road to Bowen Road, Bowen Road walking trail to Macdonnel Road, Discovery Bay to the DB Golf Club including the highest lookout point.

More places to see: MacLehose Trail, Lantau Country Park, Shek-O (Dragon's Back), Other HK Trails including Tai Tam, Aberdeen Reservoir, Jardine's Lookout, Lamma Island. HK does not feel like HK when we're on these leisurely hikes. It's a whole different world with slightly fresher air, the sound of water caressing rocks, and a shared intimacy with all shades of green. Birdcalls, the breeze, rustling leaves, a view of the harbour with ghostly ships as still as sentinels (seemingly), the chatter of fellow hikers and a cheery "cho san!" (good morning in Cantonese) serve as a backdrop for these hikes. It's rapport, an easy, companionable silence, nature-tripping and exercise in one.

WISHLIST

DVD's

Books:
1000 Places to See Before You Die
Italy for the Gourmet Traveler by Fred Plotkin
Aguecheek's Beef, Belch's Hiccup etc... by Robert Applebaum
Everybody Eats There by William Stadiem and Mara Gibbs
Chocolate by Mort Rosenblum

Trips:
Italy
France
Iceland
Finland
Scotland
Tibet
Nepal
Fiji
Africa

Kitchen Stuff:
Le Creuset Pots and Pans
Ceramic Knife Set

When Hubby is Away...

I watch DVD's that I know he would never watch.

Wuthering Heights- with the gorgeous and wide-eyed Merle Oberon and dashing Laurence Olivier playing, once more, a man unlucky in love whose entire demeanor is cloaked in misery, just like in Rebecca.

Sense and Sensibility (again) - I love Alan Rickman here and can never despise him as sinister Snape in Harry Potter. He will always be dashing Colonel Brandon to me. As usual, Hugh Grant plays a bumbling, stuttering fool. I can't believe a Chinese director filmed this one. I salute Ang Lee. The English countryside is breathtaking! North and South is still the best romantic film for me, followed by Pride and Prejudice (all versions but I like the Keira Knightley one least), then this one, and lastly Jane Austen's Emma (with Kate Beckinsale). I still have more to watch though, like The Buccaneers, Wives and Daughters, Northanger Abbey, etc...and they are all on my Amazon wishlist.

Marie Antoinette- Let's see how Kirsten Dunst portrays the original diva queen.

To borrow:

Notes on a Scandal - the novel by Zoe Heller was absorbing and I like both Cate Blanchett and Dame Judi Dench so it follows I would watch the film version.

The Painted Veil - like English Patient, they say, slow and burning, but set in China. English Patient is my all-time favorite tragic love story. Ralph Fiennes in that passionate bed scene was one fine luvah.

Lucky? Blessed?

Just yesterday I thanked my better half.

Suddenly felt lucky/blessed to be loved so tenderly by someone who is a truly "mabait" person, a father in love with his son, a son fiercely protective of his parents, a brother thoughtful to his siblings, a son-in-law my parents are proud of, albeit silently.

He is also noble, apart from possessing other, expected 'husband material' traits. He knew he would marry a package deal when he proposed to me, and his life would never be the same, and yet, he made the choice others would probably balk at. Brave man, my husband of 5 years, but also a loving one. He married me, ME with my idiosyncrasies, inconsistencies, crap, suicidal tendencies and burdens. Me with my obligations and sense of responsibilty, me with my obsessive-compulsiveness and reckless ways. Sometimes I shake my head in disbelief and wonder because my 2 boys love me so much, and yet I am still so sadly selfish and lacking.

Favorites

hubby says I have too many favorites.

which translates to: I have too many damn interests it gets confusing sometimes.

at least I'm easy to give gifts to.

some of my "favorites"/interests/wishes/parinig to hubby

1. visits to the spa
2. travelling
3. reading and spending hours at a bookstore
4. writing
5. chocolate, dark, bittersweet, at least 70%
6. baking
7. cooking and owning a small out-of-the-way resto someday
8. entertaining
9. trips to the beach and owning a beach house someday
10. food and nature photography
11. eating
12. watersports
13. hiking
14. sleeping
15. walking
16. backpacking
17. camping
18. going on safari
19. learning how to ski and sail
20. cooking gadgetry
21. hosting a travel and food show
22. hiking along the Great Wall path
23. sleep for one night at the Gobi


my new travel obsession is to take a cooking course, even a short, half-day one, at all the countries I plan to visit in the next couple of decades.

Am I a bad mom?

Let's face it. I am not the best mom in the world. I haven't really suffered from true separation anxiety (mine lasted only a day), I felt total freedom when my son started going to school everyday for three hours, and I keep on planning playgroups and after-school activities for him because I feel I can't entertain him for longer than an hour. I want him to be with his peers. I love him, no doubt about that, but I also love my own time. Time to read, surf, chat, watch, walk, eat all by myself. Does this make me a lackluster mother? A selfish one? How will I be with the next one? And I do want another one, and soon. :) Hearing about my pregnant friends encourages the longing in me...

I wish I could plan arts and crafts, song and dance and other stimulating activities with my son. Right now we concentrate on "bookish" stuff like writing, math, mandarin and spelling/reading. I feel like a teacher. Does he have fun with me?

He says he loves me very much. I've got the most affectionate toddler in the universe. I am so lucky and blessed to have him. Does he feel as lucky with me? I see other moms who spend the whole day with their children, and they're truly happy doing that, so what's wrong with me?

I want to be a devoted mom, but I don't want to overdo it. I have to strike a balance somewhere. Excuse me while I hug my son and play with him...

dreams

age 16: I want to be a millionaire by the age of 23, millionaire meaning having 1 million pesos in the bank, 1 million pesos of hard-earned cash.

age 18: I want to travel around the world by age 25, build a mansion for my parents by age 30, and own a yacht by age 32.

age 25: I want to be part of entrepreneur magazine's annual 30 under 30 list. I'm not going to settle down until I have millions in the bank, and even then, I will probably continue to expand my business empire. mwahaha.

age 30: I will never climb the corporate or kitchen ladder, am past the age for the 30 under 30 list, have settled down, haven't traveled the world, am nowhere near owning a yacht in 2 years, and don't have a full-time job, or a business empire.

I do have a loving and faithful husband, a son who adores me, a part-time job that keeps me sane, and all the time in the world to write and read blogs, surf the net, cook, write, read, travel, shop, sleep, think...

Settling down at the tender age of 25 wasn't the obstacle to my lifelong ambitions. If anything, I was inspired to succeed alongside my husband, who was struggling to get to the top, like most men, and women, his age. Yet the force-that-be thought otherwise. At the age of 26 I was a mom, and four months after giving birth I was a full-time mom. And, I thought at the time, there go my dreams.

Of course I bitched about it. Someone as ambitious as I used to be is expected to do so. I felt I had the right to complain about not being able to work, or earn, or feel fulfillment, or be recognized. Hubby graciously let my ranting sessions pass, although at times he would wisely comment on "having your cake and eating it too."

Years later, four years to be accurate, I am starting to realize, bit by bit, that you CAN'T have it all. You can't be a wonderful mom who knows your kids inside out, and be a dragon lady CEO who earns gazillions every bonus season at the same time. You CAN be a great mother and a great businesswoman or career woman, BUT you will not be stupendously successful at both. Something has to give. There will always be a price. Mainly because we don't have the power to be at two places at the same time. And our minds can only think so much, and our bodies can only do so much, and our emotions can only take so much. You either neglect the business, the family or yourself. I don't believe in superwomen. I believe in women who are able to manage their time, but acknowledge that along the way they missed out on some things. Some important things. And while I will never be a complete housewife, I'm at peace with the fact that I have a huge slice of the happiness pie in my home life and a smaller slice in terms of career fulfillment.

In some ways my dreams have changed, evolved, and now involve my husband and son. I suppose it will take an entirely different road to get there, one I could never have imagined a decade ago. When I hear my son laugh or hug me tight and whisper "I love you"; when my husband comes home to an organized, clean flat and a nice dinner; when we talk in the middle of the night about our shared goals for ourselves and our families; when we travel together; when we spend quality time together on weekends, I think of how I could have missed out on all these, if only I had insisted on pursuing my career. So I'm thankful for that bump in the road, the detour to where I am now, a far cry from my 16-year old materalistic, I-will-own-the-world self. Oh, I haven't forgotten the mansion, the yacht, the millions, the traveling, but I'm in no hurry. They will come. I'm currently savoring my life. And time spent away from the heat of the kitchen, restaurant or boardroom is time spent with my rapidly growing boy.

Conversations

Some of my friends I gossip with. We can be pretty mean sometimes. We talk about Hollywood celebrities and hot stars in Manila who rake it in but are considerably lacking in talent. Yes, we sound like judgemental self-righteous sour graping bitches, which we probably are. :)

Other friends I listen to. They can yak yak yak the night away. I like listening, being the confidante. I always keep secrets (at least I try to) and I feel like a shrink when they do that. If my listening helps, then all the better. Free therapy for them, more stories for my ravenous mind to ponder on.

My inner self I confide in. It's no secret I rarely share my feelings/thoughts with anyone but myself. I have surprisingly frank conversations with the other me.

And then there's a small group of people -- hubby included, lucky me-- I actually have conversations with. Deep, funny, insightful, honest, reckless, free-flowing verbal marathons marked by comfortable silences, shrieks of laughter, a curse now and then, blushes galore, and hyperactive gestures.

Intellectual skydiving, my college friends call it. Bonding is the simplest way to describe it. Sharing oneself, committing to memory the glorious occasion when you get past the niceties and start talking about meaningful things.

This is why I like hiking with friends. Around you are the best ingredients for conversation: a birdcall, the whisper of trees, distant city sounds, views of mountains or boats or the sea. It doesn't matter that you're breathless and panting. Somehow the words still come out.

Sleepovers are also conducive to shared secrets and tearful confessions. Add to the list beach outings, camping, travelling together, lunch or dinner without the hubbies or kiddies, and the simplest of them all, a phone call.

A Bookstore of My Own

Was browsing at Dymocks this afternoon and in the space of ten minutes I found 8 books I wanted to buy. And this was at the bestsellers and classics section alone. It's always like that when I'm at a bookstore. Joaquin cheerfully told me to buy the books I wanted since I looked so sad when we left, but when I asked him for money, he shrugged and showed me empty palms. He promised to build/buy me a bookstore of my own when he's older. I can't wait (gleeful rubbing of hands here).

Why didn't I purchase the latest Stephen King, the 3 horror books with deadly-sounding titles and cover pictures, Great Expectations, Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre and The Count of Monte Cristo, you ask? If you check out my bedside table, there are 8 books there I haven't even begun to thumb through. If some people are "takaw-mata/tingin" when it comes to food, then I'm the same way when it comes to books...and yes, sigh, food as well. So sue me.

On my table, some bought secondhand, some borrowed, some brand spanking-new:

The Purpose-Driven Life by Rick Warren
for the times I need to learn a lesson or two about life and its conundrums
Brunelleschi's Dome by Ross King
from Maya, whose eclectic taste in books I so admire. she lent me two of my most enjoyable reads in the past year: The Amazing Adventures of Cavalier and Klay by Michael Chabon and The Alienist by Caleb Carr.
Will and Me by Dominic Dromgoole
from Mida, another friend whose heavyweight taste in books are so varied. she reads the heaviest, deepest, most intellectually stimulating pages ever published. wish I had her patience, understanding and smarts.
The Glass Palace by Amitav Ghosh
i love reading about exotic locales and cultures. it ignites the adventuress/heroine in me. this one is set in Burma. also enjoyed The Kite Runner and a book about Bhutan. when I was in high school I hardly slept for a week finishing The Far Pavillions by MM Kaye. and I got to watch the DVD recently hooray! Ben Cross is so dashing. British India is so romantic. and brutal too.
Daughter of Heaven by Leslie Li
Asian-American writer. writing about family, heritage and Chinese food. delish.
Fried Eggs with Chopsticks by Polly Evans
travel. China. a Westerner. in China. funny. need I say more?
Love and Friendship by the incomparable Jane Austen
why did I ever waste so much time reading Mills and Boon, Barbara Cartland, Loveswept, Harlequin, Jude Deveraux and her like when I was younger? Jane Austen's Persuasion, Emma, Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility, now that's what I call romance.
Aphrodite by Isabel Allende
sex, food, eroticism, love, recipes. my kind of book.


When I'm stressed out I need easy reading. Not shallow, but light-hearted and entertaining nonetheless. Some good choices: Bel Canto, The Palace of Heavenly Pleasure, The House of Blue Mangoes, North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell.

Which reminds me. North and South, the BBC miniseries, is for me, the best, most "nakakakilig" romance ever. No sex scenes. No nudity. Just one tender kiss. Smoldering eyes that hint of passions within. And Richard Armitage. Check him out. I rest my case (dreamy-eyed look here along with fluttering butterflies in stomach and increased heart rate).

wonder what hubby will say about that last sentence? heehee

Where to live?

If I had all the moolah in the world, I would live the summer months of June-August in Canada. That country has the most amazing weather and scenery during the summer.

Then for the winter months of November-January I would settle down in the third-world country that my countrymen love to hate, the Philippines. Christmas is celebrated for a good two months, and everyone is merry, merry, merry. There's luv in the air, cheesy carols blasting from sound systems in malls, bonuses and shopping sprees, Simbang gabi, puto bumbong, bibingka, FOOD. The air is nippy, the streets bright. There's a sense of, some cynics might say, false merriment, but I love it. Generosity and goodwill fill the air during the -ber months in Manila.

February-May and September-October will be travel months for me. Safaris in Africa, sojourns in the Middle East, a Carribean cruise, backpacking through Europe, driving cross-country in the US, trekking through the wild and mountainous regions of North Asia, exploring the world.

Fear Factor

Rode the Ngong Ping 360 with a close college friend. Gotta get used to all these fear-inducing activities. Flying. Cable cars. The Peak Tram.

Secretly I dream of bungee-jumping, getting through a canopy walk, skydiving, flying.

I pay to scare myself silly riding roller coasters, free-fall rides and such. I also pay dearly (by denting my wallet and losing sleep) for thrillers and horror movies and books, especially those that feature psychos.

I must be crazy.

The War Within

Realized, over the past few days of dieting, headaches, depression and vanity, that I am mentally anorexic (no, that doesn't mean I'm dumb), but physically a GLUTTON.

I hate the way my body is right now, although I don't show it. People think I am a confident, happy person who enjoys cooking, eating and blogging about these two passions. Outwardly, they are my passions. Everyday I cook, experiment, taste, savor, offer morsel after morsel of the most delicious edibles to my grateful, starving body. But deep inside it is a struggle. I want to be THIN. Not sexy or curvy, but an extra-small sized waif with with skinny legs and arms, bony cheeks, sharp collarbones on a hanger-like frame. I know it's the most unattractive way to be (no offense to supermodels out there or genetically-gifted size zeros) but I can't help it.

When I'm thin, and I used to be a year ago, I buy clothes like there's no tomorrow. I strut my stuff, wear revealing oufits, and pose for pictures whenever possible (and generally I don't like having my picture taken). Then when I gain all the weight back I look at my former pictures and sigh wistfully.

You could call me a yo-yo dieter. Or simply a food-loving manic depressive shithead. Whatever.