Phase 1 of moving began yesterday. I threw most of my clothes into big vacuum sealable space bags. I filled about 3 of them and still had more clothes. WTF? Where did all the clothes come from? For someone who doesn’t shop at all, I sure have a shitload of clothes. Dammit! That’s why I love moving. It makes me even less likely to buy any more stuff. We have tons and tons of books as well…I never realized how many books Pat and I went through in the past 2 years.

Andy brought his uncle’s lorry over. We loaded it with our TV, lazy chair, extra mattress, couch, microwave, full-length mirror, couple of stools, books and delivered them to various places. We have the best singapopo* friends in the world! They helped us lug stuff all around the country, and made it so fun. There was a sad moment where, after we realize we couldn’t lug the huge couch up 15 floors (wouldn’t fit into the elevator) to Han’s parents’ home, we had to leave it in the dumpster. We took photos sitting on it of course. Chansidines will miss singapopos…=`(

* singpopo: term coined by ang moh Patrick. Generically, used to describe very Singaporean Singaporeans, i.e. someone that speaks loads of Singlish, grew up/live in HDB estates, eats only hawker/Singaporean food. Specifically, a term of endearment Patrick gave to our Singaporean friends who were ah-bengs and ah-lians in their time. They used to be acquaintances we met at Zouk, and evolved quickly into being one of the best friends we’ve ever had. They love calling themselves singapopo now. heh.

2 years ago, we stepped into this flat on Zion Road and knew right away it was our new home. We were the first to see the place and offered them a deposit on the spot. And we have been living here ever since and love it sooo much.

We saw this place on craigslist and backpage and knew right away it was our new home. Of course, since we were halfway across the world, and you can never trust pictures landlord post online, we got our friend to go check it out, take pictures and give us an honest review. It got 2 thumbs up. After looking at our friend’s detailed pictures, it confirmed our gut-feeling that this was to be our new home.

But just because you want it, doesn’t mean you’ll get it, especially in NYC. There began a loooong week of emails, late night phone calls (cos of the time difference), scanning pay slips, employment letters, contracts, certificates, passports, visas, etc and hoping and praying and chanting everyday “Good things happen to us!”. The playing field was against us; we were halfway across the world. I never had to work so hard to prove that I existed. I sent my passport copy, employment letter, he called my workplace in NY to verify my existence and employment, we needed to notarize the application form, he wanted pictures of us, he wanted a guarantor, etc etc. I declared our 3 cats and assured that it’d not be a problem (one is so fat he hardly moves anyway). He apologized for being so anal, but he says there are tons of scammers out there, and southeast asia is a foreign land to him. Fair enough. He was so thorough with his credit check that I’d like to offer him a credit analyst position in my bank.

I was ready for it though. Friends in NYC kept warning us about the grueling process of finding a place in New York, especially without a broker. It’s a weird housing market. In San Francisco, it was all craigslist and nothing much else, just landlord and tenant, no middleman required. That worked fine! In Singapore, it’s the Classifieds in the Straits Times. And you have to pay an agent 0.5mth rent (standard) to stand there and watch you sign a piece of paper. In New York, the market is fragmented. Some people say it’s impossible to get a place without a broker. Some told us it’s fine without one. Well, I wasn’t about to pay 15% annual rent (1.8x monthly rent!!) just to have someone give me a piece of paper to sign! I honestly don’t see the point of a broker and I don’t understand why it’s so popular to get one. So we figured we’d do it the hard way. It’s cutthroat out there by yourself they warn; if someone shows up as the ideal tenant and gives a cash deposit upfront, it’s bye bye perfect home to someone else. My KIASUism was in full gear. Within a day after we cleared his credit check, a cheque was issued to him and VOILA! The Chansidines have secured their next Chansidine Love Nest!! WHOOOYEEAHHH!!!!

Go Team Chansidine!

I got my work visa today at the US Embassy. Their opening hours are 830-10am M-F for non-immigration visa applications. I got there at 830am on Monday. For 2 hrs, I was waiting in the carpark under the scorching sun. As I sat on the gravel hiding under my mini umbrella, I felt like a refugee. With all that power and technological skills, they couldn’t make a decent shade from the sun for us people that would go there and contribute to their economy? They couldn’t figure out that the sun shines at a certain angle every morning 830-10am which make the tent useless to 80% of the people?

All that wait was just to walk through a metal detector and have your bags checked in. In the finally civilized air-con waiting room, they questioned the hell outta everyone that came for a visa, whether it’s a visit, student or a work one. It’s just windows, no rooms, so everyone can hear your story. I saw tons of people getting denied and my heart dropped for each of them. All that wait and nothing. An Indian couple was told to go back to India and apply at the US Embassy there because their credentials were made in India and hence could not be verified by the US customs officer. Another guy was denied because he didn’t have sufficient documents. He said that he asked his company if the docs he brought was enough, and they told him yes. The immigration officer said “well, you asked a good question. but sorry, you got a bad answer”.

By the time my number was called, I was pretty nervous. I had a stack of documents to prove my worth and was all psyched up to fight for my case. But all he did was ask me if my husband would need a visa too. I said no, he’s American. He gave me a receipt and told me to pay the US$5 visa issuance fee at the next counter and to go back to him when I’m done. 15 min later, I go back to his window, again, all psyched up for his grilling, accusations and questioning. But all he did was to give me that magic yellow ticket (the ticket you get when your visa is approved to collect your passport in 2 days (today)….it’s like American Idol! I’m through to the next round!). That’s it. no questions asked! It was almost a let down…that whole 3 hr wait, that whole preparing all my answers in my head…but I ain’t complaining!

So the Chansidines take another step closer to the US of A.

How exciting. The Chansidines have found their love nest in NYC. Potentially. We are now finalizing the process. Details only when the deal is done.

So anyway, was talking to our potential future landlord and he wants to be extra careful, especially since we are halfway across the world. So he asked for our application to be signed and notarized. While looking for a notary in Singapore, I came across this list from the US Embassy in Singapore website. The 2nd on list states:

Morrison & Foerster LLP (Singapore)
…
URL: www.mofo.com

*guffaw* MOFO! Whatta grrreat name for a law firm! MOFO!

Of course, these are but 2 of many, many taxi rides, but these occurred in the span of 2 days, and I thought they were a good analogy of “spoiling the market”.

Background: Americans tip as part of their culture. It’s rude not to tip in America. In Singapore, no one really tips, because we think the 10% service charge is enough. IMO, the service here is generally so bad, 10% is rather generous. But that’s another story.

Pat definitely doesn’t mind not tipping in Singapore; it’s not our culture what, my mom likes to say. Don’t spoil market lah, my father likes to say. When Pat takes the taxi however, he likes to round up to the nearest dollar as a mini-tip for taxi-drivers, or tip a buck or two when the driver is especially nice. We have found in many conversations with taxi drivers in Singapore that they have quite a tough life, working ridiculous hours. Most of the time, the taxi drivers are very appreciative and not surprised at the mini-tip, probably because he is an ang moh.

One night, I grabbed a cab with 3 other Singaporean Chinese/Malay friends. The bill was $4.50. My Malay friend in the front seat gave a $5 and told the taxi driver to keep the change. The taxi driver was actually shocked and kept saying “har? No need! No need!” and seemed actually embarrassed to take the 50cent tip from my friend. I had never seen a taxi driver react with such surprise when the ang moh tips.

The next day, I grabbed a short cab ride with Patrick. The bill was $3.30. Now, I have also gotten the habit of rounding up for the taxi drivers; my rule-of-thumb is anything above the $.40 mark, I would round up to the higher dollar. But that day, I wasn’t feeling the love from the cab driver and at $3.30, I handed the taxi driver a $5 note and waited for my change without saying anything (it is very standard in Singapore to give exact change back). He proceeded to say “thank you!” and did not give me any change back! I was flabbergasted. It was only $1.70, but it is 51% of the fare and I was put off by how presumptuous he was. So I deliberately asked “er. Uncle. Change?” And he went “Oh yeah” And then proceeded to give me a dollar back. What? The cheek of him! NOW, I’m pissed and asked “Uncle, it’s $3.30 right?” And he said “oh yeah” and then proceeded to give me $0.50 back, which is still $0.20 short, but I gave up.

Ok, it’s not about the $1.70, which is nuts. But this dude was inducing his own tip! Too much!

I wonder if it was because I was with an ang moh and hence expected a tip, rather than be surprised by one.

Like that, spoil market already lor!

Last weekend was Resfest again. This year, we caught Shorts 1,2,3, Cinema Electronica and Rock the Bells.

Shorts 3 was whatever, forgettable. But Shorts 1 and 2 were the best collections of Resfest shorts I’ve seen in the past 2 years. I liked 1 a little better than 2, but they were just so enjoyable to watch. My favorites were:

• Rabbit (probably my topmost fav this year; conceptually it was genius)
• I am (not) Van Gogh (the amount of time it probably took to make this must be staggering)
• Food Fight (pieces of sushi kamakazi-ing hamburgers…kebabs bringing down twin towers of Big Macs…you get the point)
• Never Like the First Time (the first time for everyone…magical, horrendous, anti-climax…all told with different types of art)

I have always been so-so about Cinema Electronica cos I don’t really see the point of paying to watch MTVs. But there were alot of really entertaining ones this year:

• New Me: Jamie Lidell (conceptually great)
• No Good: Plan B (it must have taken a staggering amount of time)
• What You Standin’ For: DJ Uppercut (this one is just groovy cool)
• Nampoo: Hifana (just cos I think Hifana is awesome)
• We Are Your Friends: Justice vs. Simian (cos we have done the the same wayyy to many times. and it made Kayne West a pussy sore loser bitch)
• Smiley Faces: Gnarles Barkely (cos I love Zelig)

Rock the Bells was really really entertaining. Rock the Bells is about a promoter who put together the woodstock of hip-hop in 2004 by getting all 9 members of the Wu Tang Clan together for one night. In a funny way, it reminded me of Metallica: Some Kind of Monster. I like/am familiar with hip-hop more than heavy metal, but I am passionate about neither. Both movies take you to the world of people insanely talented in their fields and tug a something of interest in you such that you want to hear more. And to get a Wu-name. It’s not kellykelly, byatch…it’s Inscrutable Drama Queen.

You know how sometimes we get flashes of brilliance?

Well, it didn’t happen tonight. On the contrary, I had a flash of complete IDIOCY.

So we are chilling at Chris’ and order a Margherita Spizza. I go pick it up. While putting together a salad, I put the box in the oven to heat the pizza up a little, just like I’ve seen Pat do it before. We like our pizza piping hot.

After 3 minutes, Chris comes in and asks “Where’s the pizza?”. I said “it’s in the oven, heating up.” “Where’s the box?” “In the oven lah!” “You can’t put the box in the oven!” “Why not? Pat did it before”. At this moment, Pat walks into the kitchen. Chris opens the oven door simultaneously and the whole pizza box was on fire! Fuckin hell! Pat starts beating the fire down with a cloth frantically. I throw the salad in the sink to fill up the bowl with water and kept asking if I should pour water. Pat kept beating, beating. I think he was trying to save the pizza still. Finally, Chris and I simultaneously drenched the oven with water which promptly put the fire out. The box was a charred mess. Boo!

I asked Pat (an awesome chef) why it was ok when he put the box in the oven the last time to heat it up. He told me that he put it on the lowest level in the oven and turned it on only slightly. I (a horrible chef) had put the box on the top-most level right below the heating wires where the box caught fire.

I caused a fire while reheating pizza! That takes the cake! I wasn’t even making it! I was only reheating it! For the sake of everyone’s safety, kellykelly is henceforth BANNED from the kitchen!

A year ago, I mentioned something happening at work with a target time of 1 year.

Well, the year-long brewing is finally ready. After an arduous 2-mth wait for the work visa (which usually takes 2 weeks) to come through yesterday, I am ready to announce:

The Chansidines are moving to New York!

Whoohoo!

In case you are wondering, I’m not breaking my bond…far from it. My company is transferring me to our New York branch to work for a while. It’s been planned for the past year and it’s finally happening! Blessed I am that I have the opportunity to serve my bond in different parts of the world. Blessed I am that I really love my job.

And YES, the husband will be moving with me. We always found it kinda funny when people asked, after hearing my plans to move, if Pat would be moving as well. Given that he moved from San Francisco to Singapore to be with me, then married me, it would not make much sense if he stayed in Singapore’s heat (which he detests) while I move to New York.

Chansidines in Singapore have had such good times. In our 2+ years here, we have gotten married, acquired 2 cats, made amazing true-blue friends, got diving certified, had solid family time and traveled around the region as intensively as we could afford to (not enough still). We have been quite comfortable here. And I have been so thankful that my husband got an opportunity to live in my country for a while, completely immerse himself here and understand Singapore entirely in the way you only can if you live in here for a while (not just visit on vacation). And you know the ang moh’s been infused with the Singlish when he mumbles Singlish in his sleep.

But 2 years breeds familiarity; every 2 years, I get the itch for something new, something novel. The world’s too big to stay at any one place for too long; I am blessed with a job that encourages the move and a husband who has the same desire to change our environment every once in a while.

And really, ya gotta live in New York City at least once in your life!

How long are we gonna be there? Who knows? That’s the beauty of it all.

And then the countdown begins; we leave Singapore on 4 December 06, less than 4 weeks away. The frenzy to pack will all soon begin. Friends, please stake your claim on our furniture/ books/ appliances asap. And no, the cats are not available; we are bringing all 3 cats with us…how could we not?

Reading, watching murder.

Watching murder: Pat’s Korean friend lent us Memories of Murder. Now I have heard lots of hype about Korean films, mostly represented by a nauseatingly mawkish bespectacled guy called Bae Yong Jun with snowflakes in his hair, almost always with some generically pretty girl whose face I’d never remember. Simply put, I never bought the hype…probably unfairly cos I never saw any of those movies or drama serials.

Memories of Murder is an excellent film, I dare say. Fabulous acting all around, great direction, suspense was tingling…about the obsession of 2 investigators with a serial murderer. When the credits rolled, I was rather spooked, a sign of a good murder flick.

Reading Murder: I have a new favorite writer! (oh it’s so exciting to find a new writer love, it’s like a whole new world of possible great reads opening up to you again!). His name is Truman Capote. We watched Capote a few weeks ago which sparked the obvious interest for ‘In Cold Blood’. Capote was a great movie as well, driven by the exceptional Philip Seymour Hoffman. I’m happy to see PSH in a lead role. He is, along with William H. Macy and John C. Reily, one of the most understated non-poster boy actors around.

Back to ‘In Cold Blood (thanks JMFW!)’. How many ways do I love this book? It may be a strange comparison, but reading Capote reminded me greatly of John Steinbeck. It was the way they crafted a great American novel…truly exceptional writers putting a vivid heart into the seemingly unexceptional lives of the small town middle-American. ‘In Cold Blood’ is about the murder of the Clutter family in Holcomb (”The village of Holcomb stands on the high wheat plains of western Kansas, a lonesome area that other Kansans call ‘out there’ “). Truman wrapped, with such heartfelt empathy, the life of the Clutters in 56 of 355 pages, which propels us forward into the minds and lives of murderers, the obsession of the investigators, the upheaval the murders brought to the simple peace of the mundane small town life. There’s so much to feel for in this novel. Whatta gem!

Went for my final 4-month post-LASIK checkup today and I am happy to say that I have ‘graduated’ with flying colours.

I have NIL myopia with very mild astigmatism (0.25), which is not quite noticeable. I am entirely satisfied.

No more checkups. Although I am given a card that I am supposed to keep till I turn 60 or the time where I have to think about cataract surgery. It states what my degree was and the curvature of my eyes. Apparently I have to show that card to tailor make lenses for my LASIK-ed eyes. Kinda creepy when you think about turning 60. It’ll happen sooner than I think. Hey, 25.5 years have already gone by. In the meantime, how on earth does one keep a card for 34.5 years? I’m emailing myself those stats. Will I still keep my email in 2041? What will email be llike in year 2041?