Perth trip (I)

As mentioned, I shall post some photos we took in Perth and describe them a bit.

So this is the skyline of Perth city which is pretty distinctive because these seem to be the only skyscrapers in the whole of Western Australia.

Anyway, I thought it looked quite similar to Sing*pore's:

And this is a typical street in Perth CDB area.

It's not very impressive architecture but I kind of like it because of that. All the steel-and-glass skyscrapers you see in the CBD here are designed to loom and cast shadows over passerbys and to give you the we-are-a-first-world-city-so-don't play-play impression.

The streets of Perth are just clean and quiet, and lined with these pleasant-looking, low-rise Victorian buildings. But as the night descends, some of the streets became very boisterous because of all the drinking places they have there. Beer-drinking seems to be their only night-time activity because everything else closes at about 5pm. No shopping, no nothing. I think in Australia, can't drink = no social life.

We didn't see any drunks, but one evening, as we were walking around, teenagers in black T-shirts (Metallica etc on them) and dreadlocks and piercings started to spill out from who knows where into the streets. H and I were both kinda nervous and walked as fast and as nonchalantly as possible back to the hotel, and with nothing to do during our self-imposed captivity, we munched on fast food and fruits and watched the infamous Busty Girls Jumping Vigorously On Trampolines on TV. I really don't think the girls should do that too often. Gravity is going to get to them and they'll sag terribly--the trampolines, I mean.

Now, let's leave booze and boobs for awhile and venture out of the city.

This photo was taken in Fremantle, a small town near to a fishing harbour and with a relaxed, resort feel. The air was crisp and fresh without the salty tang you get sometimes from the seaside breeze here. In fact, they nicknamed it Dr Fremantle because it's supposed to be so good for you.

I wanted to try the fish and chips in Fremantle but we didn't have a lot of time to spend there. We did go to their popular weekend market though, and bought bottles of honey, strawberries and stuff. Things are not very cheap but at least the market was not as chaotic or clastrophobic as the ones in Bangkok, so shopping there was a relaxing experience.

Fremantle has a lot of cafes along what they call the Cappucino Strip, all housed in 1- or 2-storey colonial buildings which my Australian manager calls the shophouses of Australia.

These buskers were playing along the street there and adds to the resort feel of the place. Usually, it's awkward when you see buskers in Sing*pore as everyone seems to be ignoring/avoiding them by giving them a wide berth but these guys look like they just decided to get together and have a good time and earn some change for a cup of java later.

We also went to tour the sand dunes on this giant 4-wheel vehicle for an extremely (and deliberately) bumpy ride which was accompanied by unbearably cheesy music with some chap yodelling about "great summer rain". What has any of this got to do with rain, I thought, but I didn't dwell on it for too long as I was too busy screaming my head off.

I did a bit of sandboarding down a slope that looked really quite steep but was actually pretty OK. It was real fun except that we were guided by this chee-ko-pek (lecherous) guide who openly molested a friendly Japanese girl by patting her bum and also tried to tickle H and me. What a crappy guy, trying to take advantage of a girl and masquerading it as harmless fun. More later.

In a different light

What exactly makes for a good vacation? I think it could be a mix of various things, like good company (thanks, H!), good-natured weather, friendly locals, plentiful and cheap shopping and food (this one is a bit hmm...), interesting places. Most of all, I think it's about a feeling. I told a colleague that Australia seems to have a curious hold over me--every time I go there I don't really have a lot of fun, but yet after a while I would always think of going back.

But this time round, I don't feel so ambivalent: Australia, especially Perth, is a great place to be if you wish to hit the pause button for a while and step back. Different things work for different people, but physical space just does it for me. And space is what Australia has, in abundance. The land, the sky, the sea, all bathed in the warm light. It's that feeling of wide expanse and openness that makes Australia so fascinating for me.

I shall write more about the trip and upload the photos we took there soon!

Swooned...for 5 mins

A guy is most attractive when he is playing a musical instrument, don't you think? I attended a lunchtime concert put up by the Sing*pore Chinese Orchestra at the university campus last week, and there was this piece that featured 2 soloists, 1 male and 1 female. The female soloist was playing the pipa while the guy was playing what seemed like a smaller, more stout version of it.

He doesn't seem like a local Chinese, more like from one of those native tribes who live in some far-flung region in China. He was totally relaxed--occasionally he would break out in a grin while listening to the 50-odd-member orchestra playing behind him, or smile at the female soloist (so cute! I thought to myself.)--and yet his playing was so intense. His fingers were shaking and moving so fast over the strings they were a blur and he looked like a case of advanced Parkinson's disease. Very, very cool.

I wanted to see on the giant screen whether he has dimples when he smiles, but the inept camera people seemed fixated with this burly, mafia-look-alike drummer who looks like he earns extra cash by playing for a lion dance troupe or has a side job as the head cook of a zhi cha stall. Dang it.

But when the piece ended, so did his aura of attractiveness. He got up to take a bow and shake the hand of the conducter etc etc, and seemed just a bit erm, too sissy for my liking? Drats. :P

Much afraid

"That's what I'm afraid of

I don't have the will to change

Not when it's so easy, to be easy"

-- Easy, Folk Implosion

That's probably the thing I'm scared of the most now. How easy it is to be lured into wrapping myself in a kind of cocooning inertia, and how hard it is to fight my own innate instinct for the comfort of sameness.

Eh, where did my weekend go?

This is going to be a terribly self-indulgent post as I'm going to whine about weekends, or rather, how I squander away the precious weekends.

I just find myself caught in this loop of wasted weekends--every week, the same thing happens: Friday morning comes around, and I heave a little sigh of relief and say a bit of thanks. By afternoon, I've already lost the will to even pretend to work, and can be found surfing the web listlessly for amusement or having empty, emoticon-filled conversations that only the idle can muster with pals via MSN.

Friday evenings are not a good time to go out as I'm pretty much exhausted by then, so I usually go straight home, intending to watch all-night TV with some potato chips or cookies. Then, I concede defeat by 9.30pm and quit for the night to catch up on sleep since I've become a weekday insomniac these days.

Saturdays and Sundays would be a mindless blur. Lots of sleeping, channel-surfing, with a dash of reading and blogging and ironing and snacking, or movies and friends and coffee sometimes. That's it. I've slept my weekends away again! On Sunday night I would suffer last-minute, where-did-my-weekend-go panic and try to repent by staying awake as late as possible to cram in some leisure reading or whatever. So when Monday morning comes, I would, bleary-eyed, heave a sigh of resignation and resolve to make the next weekend different.

How nice it would be if I could do a different thing every weekend. Organise a family picnic, attend a concert, go roller-blading. See, the pangs of guilt are starting already.