I'm writing this because my brain's been swimming in French lately. Some English would do me good, non?

Hey, that "non" really came out of my head naturally! 

I've also grad--ually started some food photography again in the past two weeks. I'm still trying to identify the best spot(s) at home on different parts of the day and have the tripod permanently standing by in one of the bedrooms. It's a whole new experience for me since the tripod only joined our household in the US. And because I'm "reconnecting" with my existing lenses, it also means I'm in no hurry to get the next one, especially since I no longer work. But if anyone generous is reading this, I was looking at the EF 50mm f/1.4 USM by Canon. Yes, if you would just write that down please... I don't deserve the f/1.2L because I'm not making a living out of it. But I wouldn't really fancy the f/1.8 II either. It is cheaper in Malaysia than in Singapore, by the way. Nonetheless, as said, I'm in no hurry so next year would be the good time.

ANYway... So how's life in Kuala Lumpur so far, you ask?

Right. It's already the third week of September. Feels like it was just yesterday that we moved into our new home, despite sleeping here for exactly one month. The moving-in went smoothly and we are happy to see all our stuff from various countries - finally! - unpacked and forming our home altogether. 

We also said goodbye to some items which did not survive either the two-year storage or moving and shipping. One in particular was the iron we got back in Singapore only a few months before having to pack up. And since office shirts are of immediate urgency, we went to the departmental store looking for a new one. 

Now when it comes to investing in a good iron, apart from its weight (with and without water) and power (no less than 2400W), one should look for a high steam flow rate which is measured in "g/mn" (at least 150g/mn). Otherwise ironing would really be a dreadful chore. 

We spent some time checking out various models on the shelf when the sales staff came over to help. She seemed to have her mind set on Tefal over Philips. Ah! I liked her already. "Both about the same price. But one made in Indonesia. What are you paying for?"  Now I liked her even more!

So we chatted about some of the most mundane things, like why do steam iron plates turn brown too soon. The enthusiastic lady shared her wisdom.

"Oh! That! You tell your maid ar!! When she irons your clothes, she must not set it to the highest setting! You know sometimes maids have so many things to do, they think by ironing at the highest setting they can get the job done faster. This is wrong! Not only your maid risks spoiling your clothes, she burns the iron also! That's why the plate turns brown!"

The husband looked at me and said, "You hear that?". 

Our chirpy "aunty" was slightly embarrassed and apologized. 

That's how common domestic helpers really are in this part of the world. Everyone thinks everyone has one. Or two. 

I know... I've been meaning to write since we arrived in Kuala Lumpur on our one-way ticket more than two weeks ago. August seems to be hurrying its way through - too fast for comfort (and sleep!). It is my favourite month because together with my nephew, father and brother, our numbers go up by a notch in August. I'm now thirty-six  and thankfully so. Thankful for all these and more:

• The husband who loves me more than I'd normally imagine. He works very hard to make us happy. If you ask him, he'd say "wife not happy, everyone's not happy". So through the years he's fine-tuned his antennae to the point of knowing how I would react or feel (emotionally and physically, wow!) towards things. In fact, these days I think he knows me better than myself! For example, he'd stop me from eating something and substantiate it with a list of possible consequences of eating it. (Which usually leads to a trail of unhappiness for all.) He makes me laugh, my Frenchloaf! 

• That we are finally landing on our feet with JL's new job (he started on the 1st) and the handover of keys to our next home today. In the next few days we'll be moving in with all our stuff shipped in the container from France weeks ago. It will take a couple of weeks for us to fully unpack everything, perhaps adding a new piece of furniture or two thereafter. We're both glad it's coming to a close - this living out of suitcases in temporary accommodation for two, whole, years. One may think it a luxury hopping from one hotel to another. Well it is, indeed, much as packing up your valuables and double-checking that the safe is locked every, single, time before leaving the room. Finally we can make our own meals at home and eat better. Did I mention the 5-6 kilos that eating out had "blessed" me with? It's really unhealthy. 

• The people we've met in the past two years who've made our life less stressful. This includes staff from the places we've hung out so often they became part of our life: Zainab our housekeeping lady who gave me a shawl the day we left (I must add, she chose the colours which she knew I would wear!); the concierge personnels who still remembered us when we walked past where we lived one recent afternoon; Raju and his Burmese buddy whom we used to see when we made it for breakfast; and Babu who would wave to us even when we're just passing by his workplace. These are the ones who've really seen us through our highs and lows, at times they knew more about us than our friends and families. They're the guardian angels who kept us company for months.

• Friends who kept in touch and cheered us on because they've been there, done that and got back up stronger. And then friends who inspire us with their purposeful ways of living life to the fullest. And friends who walk with us, especially the Young Lady who courageously chose to experience a foreign-speaking country all by herself.

• Families who are always there when we need their help and support, and who also know when to step back and just listen, and who'd find just about any darn thing to celebrate (valid reason for a great meal and some drinks, that's why). And especially so, the kids in our families who'd ask how we were, where we were and when they'll be seeing us again -- all so innocently because they enjoyed our being around, or just curious why we moved about so much -- they're truly lovable.

It's been a roller-coaster ride since 2010 and the carriage is slowing to a halt. Lest anyone thinks I'm disappearing in the next few days, it's because of the moving in, unpacking, and reuniting with some old-time favourites at home. It is also because - thanks to the two- to three-week processing time for Astro - there won't be any internet connection nor cable TV in the apartment. 

Everyone's onto their own thing after washing up the dishes after dinner. The Poster Boys are here because their mother had decided to bring the Oui-Ouis over for a couple of days before they leave for Italy. I thought I'd never see them again till next year, realizing too late that I had not taken any photos with them. 

Now they're here after a whole afternoon of playing in water. But I doubt the little one is keen to have his photo taken. They spent the past week in Brest with their maternal grandparents. And N came back with a cold-sore on the lips which even affected his appetite. He's lost one kilogram of weight - that's a lot considering he weighs only 16 kg. 

The FIL will drive JL and I to the airport in Lyon tomorrow after lunch. It will be a bittersweet day, I already know. We're embarking on a new chapter in our life, after a whole year of wandering and wondering in uncertainty. We certainly never expected the wait to be this long when we took the leap of faith, leaving behind our stable, rather comfortable and routine life in Singapore (in other words, boring).  

A friend commented about the good life I live. Yes, T, my life is good in the context of the whole world. But there were days when I refused to even wake up, let alone get out of bed, because I felt stuck in this same life. My 36th birthday saw me homeless, jobless and aimless. But tomorrow, on the French autoroute (which had been so kind to us) to Lyon Saint Exupéry, I will remind myself that I'm moving on. With the love of my life, we're moving on. 

As for the Poster Boys, never mind the photo. At least I get to have them hug and kiss me one more time. I'll ask for very sloppy ones that'll last for months.

There's a voyeur deep down in every one of us. Then for some of us, it's not that deep. 

I'll show you mine if you show me yours... 

Strangers in the night... exchanging trousers... wondering what's inside... 

Okay. Perhaps I'm on a sugar+caffeine high. Or perhaps it's the wind. I get carried away.

My pantry at the moment exists only in my head. We haven't secured our "home" in KL yet. No panic despite our one-way flight four days from now. But since we were talking about cooking at home earlier on, I might as well share with you my pantry list. My apologies for not having any photos as show-and-tell. Another day, maybe.

This has to be my final post on why we don't cook. Much had been said here and here, along with some practical ideas we can adopt. Or try at the very least. I can't think of much else to help ourselves so here's my last shot at it.

I've Never Cooked All My Life

Sad but true: some of us grew up not having done anything in the kitchen. By the time we left home, we relied on street food. Then we got married, have kids, and eventually find ourselves cornered because either we care about what our kids eat, or we find eating out a logistical challenge. But we never really learned how to cook. So how? What do you mean how? 

This follows from my blog entry earlier this week. Again, the disclaimer is there so I won't get dirty looks or not hear from some of my friends in future.

Street Food Galore

With the ever-increasing number of food trucks, food courts, hawker centers and mamak stalls, one starts to think "why bother?". And by the way, have you checked out The Big Group's newer eateries (they're expanding too fast at the expense of quality service and food, in my humble opinion) or the latest Din Tai Fung (err... the Singaporean one, not the one in KL) yet? Speaking of which, I'm also thinking of the Muar gluttons' street wantan mee... You see where we're heading? Exactly! Why bother cooking? 

Look, I love eating out too. But too much of a good thing can be bad for you. How many of us actually pay attention to the amount of pork lard in that serving of char kway teow? The sugar and condensed milk in our teh tarik? "But it just tastes soooo good!", we'd whine. Sure, when it does and we get thirsty, it's probably a few ounces of MSG in the broth. It is affordable and convenient after a day's work, no one's denying that. But what are we doing to our bodies? And again, what are we teaching our children eating out all the time? More importantly, the children can eat without you? No, I don't mean you should hold it against them, let me explain in a bit.

Big disclaimer before I continue: this is not meant to slam people who don't cook. It is also not meant to be sexist. Hence the generic "we" instead of "women" or "some people". 

Home-cooking is dying a slow death especially in big cities like Singapore and Kuala Lumpur. Home-cooking is dying simply because we don't cook like our parents and their parents did. And here's a list of reasons why we don't cook, (based on what I observe around me) followed by some suggestions that could bring us back to cooking at home. I am unable to cover them all within a single posting but will continue with subsequent ones.

Negative first experiences

Some of us did try our hand at cooking. This is especially true when we left home for college, or when we started working and realized how our meagre paycheck couldn't afford our eating out every meal. So we started with instant noodles but grew tired of it. Then we thought, why not make our own steaks and mashed potatoes at home? But because nobody taught us and these we didn't learn from textbooks, we left the pan so smoking hot it triggered the smoke alarm. Or we blitzed the freshly boiled potatoes in the blender, never had we imagined the pressure within would be so great the cover gets blown off, and we spent the night wiping off random globs of spud in the kitchen. Never again.

Do you enjoy ironing? 

Sorry, let me rephrase... How does the thought of ironing make you feel?

I used to despise it and thus bought only clothes that didn't require ironing. Until I got married, had to iron some of the husband's shirts occasionally, still hated it though a little less, and later on, became more competent at it and have since grown to like it.

Most people dread ironing largely because they never really learned how to, let alone realized how their choice (or the lack thereof) of iron and ironing board can totally affect their experience. It's almost like driving a car. Before buying it, you would have asked: Are the seats comfortable enough to take you through a 5-kilometer jam? Does the dashboard look cool enough for you? How does the steering wheel feel? And the accelerator? Does the car say "you" all over? Will you and the vehicle become one on the road? 

Now I know some of you may laugh at what I've just said. Of course we'd ask ourselves 101 questions before buying a car! After all it is a major financial commitment we're signing ourselves to. An iron and the accompanying board cost no more than a couple of hundred bucks tops. Why think so much? 

Oh wait, before I continue: if you think ironing is something only maids do because they are paid and thus have no choice but to do so, you can stop reading now and get back to Facebooking. Otherwise, please carry on :)

I just had to write this down. It happened last evening. My in-laws were hosting dinner for seven - JL's godfather J, the animated aunt M and husband M, then four of us. They were arriving at seven thirty and knowing this side of my family, one is always on time if not early. 

The MIL, when she's expecting guests, would do her food shopping a day or two before. And on the actual day, one would normally see something on the stove or in the oven late afternoon. Yesterday at six, the kitchen was quiet and empty: no soft whistling from the pressure cooker, no simmering sound, no ticking of her mini timer, and the biggest red flag (for me, at least) - no smell of cooking. 

Out of curiosity, I took a peek in the kitchen only to see her sitting at the table, reading Le Canard enchaîné. You may recognize the word canard as duck, but Le Canard enchaîné is anything but a cookbook. Ten minutes later, she was solving a Sudoku in one of her weekly magazines. Yes, yes, yes... I know about her Boy Scouts-style readiness and Zen-like calmness in the kitchen. But there is really nothing in the kitchen! Not the slightest hint at dinner for seven adults. All I knew was she wanted to try her friend's recipe for a lemon tiramisu, no coffee, no cocoa.