The property market in KL city center is very dynamic with established developments competing against a handful of recently completed ones. We even saw one which was so new the kitchen fittings have yet to be even installed. But it was funny because minutes before that unit, we were in the show unit which was so tastefully done up by the interior designers. Should have recorded the husband's face when we stepped into the actual unit. But oh, if only we could extract that kitchen and family area right next to it for our next home!
We spent last week in KL and finally met our relocation agent in person. My head spun after nearly 20 apartments across 11 developments within a 2-km radius -- all in three days jet-lag inclusive. It's exhilarating and sure beats the hell out of watching episodes of HGTV's House Hunters (International) on the couch!
The property market in KL city center is very dynamic with established developments competing against a handful of recently completed ones. We even saw one which was so new the kitchen fittings have yet to be even installed. But it was funny because minutes before that unit, we were in the show unit which was so tastefully done up by the interior designers. Should have recorded the husband's face when we stepped into the actual unit. But oh, if only we could extract that kitchen and family area right next to it for our next home!
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It's Monday morning bright and early - 6:20am - at the KLM lounge at Schiphol: soft eclectic mix of music accompany the early (mostly tired nonetheless) business executives; delightful clinking of glasses and frothing of milk from the coffee machines at the food service area. And what truly draws the line between relaxing and relaxing: no smartypants monkeying around (yes, he's almost like Tom Cruise on Oprah's couch), only to outdo himself later by catching bubbles with his mouth, reporting his every achievement to the mother, who probably thinks her son is the world's most adorable kid, never mind that he's disturbing everyone else around.
Smartypants aside, nor are there young, eager, first-time Asian parents who attend to their baby's cooing. (Seriously!) I'm not racist but I think it is just the Asian parenting style. Young mummy kept shushing the little one so that baby will sleep and not make noise. But she didn't realize she was the cause of annoyance because whenever she does her larger-than-life spin of "sshhh, ssshhhh, sssshhhh...... ssh, ssshhhhh.......", she could put the entire section of passengers to sleep. Just that we're all adults, hullo... One word to her: SHHHHHHHH. "Hey, I think it's because of the chair," I told the husband.
"Why? What about it?" "Well, last night your dad sat here and he won; tonight I'm sitting here and you see what's happening?" I was on my first ever winning streak - my third in a row, the fourth win for the night. "First ever" as in all the trips I've ever made to this house. You see, JL's parents are very good at rami, better known as rummy to everyone else (I think!). I'm no good with cards - the last card game I played regularly was chor dai dee back in uni days when a few of us just refused to study. That too, I can hardly recall. My three opponents are all experts. Our two senior citizens are naturally good at it since they play regularly with their equally-senior buddies. The husband is very good at it because his mathematical mind processes at lightning-speed. Me? I just teach my students how to use the scientific calculator. Counting fast, let alone in different combinations, up to only 52 can bring about a headache. We saw our container driven away for Marseille yesterday. It was a long day for JL who had been with the movers since morning. Glad we won't be doing this for the next three years at least. I only joined the party after lunch and they sure worked fast! The garage had already been half-emptied before the guys went for their lunch break. As most of the boxes (packed in Singapore two years ago) are still in good condition, the guys only had to redo their inventory list using their own labels. Nonetheless our three Bulgarian acquaintances came armed with new boxes in assorted sizes. Not too bad, because they've come all the way from Lyon and they'd better not forget nor run short of anything they need. Otherwise it'd be three hours' drive both ways to get it! This will be the last of my two-cents' worth on packing for moving. In the past week, we've been taking our own sweet time - no pressure in all honesty - collecting the stuff we've accumulated post-Singapore for packing. It's all over the FIL's house: some in our bedroom cupboard, or under the bed, others in JL's own bedroom (which had recently been taken over by the 7-year-old nephew whenever), and mostly in the UPS boxes from our time in Cambridge at the garage.
Tomorrow the movers will come to pick up these ones, and the whole lot of the rest at the other garage (read: what used to constitute our "home" in Singapore). Apparently, the container will only be on the waters for 25 days. Add 10 working days or so to both ends of the customs, it should arrive in KL within 6-8 weeks. Fingers crossed that no fire incident onboard the ship this time! So the 101 was on respect for all things paper. What else to prepare yourself with before a week of serious packing? Here are some of my favourites through our moves:
Make a list. I love lists! If you don't, at least make one in your head and hope that you'll remember it. I write them down because my memory fails me when my limps are aching. The list should contain the items you want to pack. You don't have to explicitly spell it all out, just categorize them eg. house linens, books (JL's school texts, comics, my French books, cookbooks, and so on), paintings, winter clothes, the likes. The more you can group them, the better organized you will be when you get down to the actual packing. And the better you can imagine packing your stuff, the more you can identify what is required: custom-built wooden crate for paintings, packs of desiccants, bubble wraps, which sizes for your carton boxes, etc. I am a boxer. Oh yes, a very seasoned boxer and in fact, as professional as the ones who earn their keep at it. I hold no punches when it comes to ensuring zero-hairline-breakage to my gratin dishes and precious beer mugs and pint glasses. I wrapped them all up - piece by piece - with clean larger-than-broadsheet-size paper. I am reluctant to leave them in the hands of professional movers because insurance cover is merely that. Insurance cover can never replace sentimental value.
Since we packed up our home and left Singapore back in June 2010, we've been living out of just four suitcases. The contents would vary according to the direction we're heading: from Singapore to France; France to US; US back to France; France to Malaysia; and most recently, Malaysia back to France.
Between these places, together we've consumed countless bottles of travel-size facewash, shampoo, moisturiser, tissues, and medication. In fact, we even have a travel-size pharmacy all this while. It is not at all environmentally friendly (so many plastic containers!) but we promise once we set up the next home, toiletries will come in bulk sizes. Clothes and shoes were dropped off and picked up due to climate difference. Sometimes we brought also gifts between these stops. And kitchenware too, like my multi-ingredient measuring glass which JL used as beer glass; or the adorable mini-whisk that came with the pack of shaved chocolates sent by our former neighbour in Cambridge. Surely I wouldn't leave them behind on check-out day? Living under such logistical constraints in temporary accommodation, we've also surprised ourselves at how much we have accumulated just within nine months. We constantly reminded each other against unnecessary purchases: books, magazines, stationeries - these our usual items - let alone everything else. JL had only four shirts, two ties, two pairs of pants. Paired with jeans, bermudas or capris, Lacoste seemed to be our "uniform" since they are versatile in KL weather and never go out of shape after washing. My six-year-old niece once asked why I "always wear the same baju"! Good thing we only met up every few weeks - imagine what she'd think of me had we met more frequently. It was only in the last two months that I caved in and bought new clothes during short trips to Singapore. Luckily we had Ano-san who generously allowed us to store two boxes of accumulated stuff (which we don't need at the moment) at his place. We are also thankful to have met really nice people in those months of idling away, especially the staff at Somerset Ampang, and to have received such kindness and generosity from friends and family alike. "You're eating too much sweet!", said the husband, his eyes pointing to my sweet bread scattered with pralines.
"YOU're eating too much FAT!", I replied, staring at the saucisson sèche, tartare and bread on his plate. "Yeah, but your bum is looking like the kitchen sink! Mine is still cute 'cause I go to the gym." I could only roll my eyes thinking of the kitchen sink. But I am not too bothered for now. The husband and I were enjoying our separate little gouter (afternoon snack) despite at half past five. Dinner would be at seven. But that's what happens whenever we're back at JL's parents house. There's so much to eat. And there's always something to eat whenever. Every few weeks, JL and I make a trip down to Singapore for many reasons: catching up with old friends, meeting people regarding work, dropping by the hairdresser's (hey I've been seeing him since the turn of the century!) and running errands (banks, post office). In between these, we also try to plan our meals revisiting our old haunts -- good old Singapore-style Hainanese chicken rice and dry beef horfun at Chin Chin; the sole mio pizza at Mario's; tandoori chicken and curry at Samy's; nachos and Asian grilled chicken wings washed down with golden ale at Brewerkz; rojak and sliced fish beehoon soup (with milk!) at Wisma's Food Republic; xiaolongbao, braised beef noodles soup and shrimp wanton noodles soup at Din Tai Fung (the one in KL Pavilion just couldn't cut it)... A long list which is limited only by the number of nights allocated for each trip. We are such creatures of habit that we almost always order the same items at these places. Hence our broken hearts when we walked to our regular Japanese manga store cum home-cooked food café, only to be shocked by slabs of bare concrete walls through glass panels, not even the tiniest hint of what was previously there. I'd dare say for that few minutes, hunger was taken over by sadness. It's been three days and memories of Bon Goût at Robertson Quay still linger on. The motherly Japanese lady boss and her younger hippy-chic assistant, the odd duo (one tiny Ah Pek and the other his exact opposite) working in the kitchen who'd sneak a peek at the diners when they were less busy, the sight of Japanese families quietly reading their mangas or magazines after a meal, the rice cookers and slow cookers sitting along the wall behind the service counter, and the unpredictable genres of music playing on the blue portable player near the cashier. Yes, it was so regular that we had even gone there both lunch and dinner on the same day. And I regret having only ever taken two photos there. It was through Bon Goût that I realized how a good home-cooked meal can be as simple as it is satisfying. It was the hippy-chic lady who said to use California-grown sushi rice (Kokuho, which eventually became our staple in Cambridge). It was the portable player that convinced me Céline Dion sounds only as great as the audio system through which her voice is amplified. I suppose the coffee table we have for our living room will always remind me of the tables and counter by which we used to sit at Bon Goût, as they are all of the same shade of wood. And the simplicity of a home-cooked Japanese meal inspired by their menu: udon with cod, naruto maki, and fresh greens in miso soup. We'll remember your pan-fried beef steak rice set with creamy carrot-potato salad; your curry rice where half the plate is covered with curry containing potato, carrot and onion, while the other half just white rice with neatly sliced tonkatsu resting on top, served with the most delightful salad of pickled cabbage and onion I've ever tasted; your fried chicken with negi sauce rice set; your stir-fried miso chicken with eggplant.
And not forgetting your shoyu ramen, which had become our own little joke, as JL would say "I'll shoyu ramen" when he really means "I'll show you". So thanks for the good-tasting memories and inspiration, and I secretly hope that one day, my collection of pretty little stoneware dishes will be as widely assorted as yours. One day. |
brieflyJL and S grew up in France and Malaysia respectively. They met while living in Singapore, stayed a year in the USA (Cambridge, MA) then the south of France, Malaysia, and are back again in the USA (New York, NY). archives
March 2015
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