That explains my absence in the past couple of months. 

But it was also because there was so much to share I couldn't decide where to start. I mean, JL and I made so many lists to prepare for our immigration paperwork, to offload quite a number of household appliances and furniture, to get to know New York better so we could zoom in to our preferred neighbourhood, to setup banking services there, to single out immediate essentials for the suitcases, near-immediate items for airfreight while leaving the rest for container sea shipment, all these to facilitate our move from 3,600 square feet of spaciousness to 1,200 square feet of Manhattan "massiveness". 

First things first: kla-foo-tee. That's how the word is pronounced. 

Clafoutis is one of the classic French desserts which you will never find in most cafés or dessert shops. Probably because it is so easily homemade that one is embarrassed to charge money for it. Okay, I was only half joking. Unless it is served in pretty single-portion baking dishes, charged at the same price point as crème brûlée, I really doubt it'd be feasible to put clafoutis on one's menu. And that's my half-assed amateurish deduction as to why it is rarely found when eating out. 

Clafoutis is essentially a baked, firm batter with some fruit in it, the classic choice being fresh whole cherries. Talk to the French about cherry clafoutis and you will see the opposing sides of pitting or not pitting the cherries. The latter, some say, will add a subtle nutty flavour to the dessert. Ask my mother-in-law and she will shrug her shoulders and say that's how she does it because she doesn't have time to remove the stones, and besides, why spoil something that's not broken?

"Bienvenue à ma maison!" 

Those were the first words my father-in-law said to me the moment I stepped out of his car after an hour and a half of soaking in the sights along the French autoroute starting from Lyon-Saint Exupéry airport. The air was fresh and cool, you would agree too had your feet felt the terracotta tiles on the ground. Not that I was barefoot. A pair of house slippers were waiting for me in the bedroom. Still, I could feel the coldness of the ground wearing them.

That was June six years ago, when I couldn't understand 95% of what I heard around me. Most of what I learned back then I did with my eyes. I remembered faces and places, really, short of sounding like the Beatles' song: JL's immediate family, close family friends who are family too, his best friend, wife and children, one of whom JL is godfather to. 

I watched the simplicity of having family and friends around, spending the day talking about everything under the sun, even taking naps at the corner if one wishes so. I followed everywhere JL went as he followed everywhere his father went: the bakery, the deli, the florist, the tabac shop for newspapers. Everywhere. The French really kiss a lot, I thought to myself. Even men greeted each other with a touching of cheeks and pats on their backs with varying strengths, as if a sum of how long since you last saw each other and how much you love the other person. But all done naturally, quietly, and absolutely without exaggeration.

One of the husband's achievements of late - in terms of assimilating in KL - is watching Celestial HD channel. For the benefit of our non-Malaysian friends, Celestial HD is like HBO but only in Cantonese and occasionally Chinese. One can sit all-day in front of the TV watching back-to-back movies. We don't do that, though, because we don't have much time together during the week so TV-time is minimized. 

Instead, we regularly scroll through the channel guide to record movies which we think may be interesting. If there is one improvement Astro could work on, it is to indicate the main cast of every movie in the write-ups. Only on weekend afternoons do we catch up on what had been recorded. If we can't sit through the first ten minutes, the movie is deleted. "Next!...."

I am so proud of the fact JL has watched all three parts of Infernal Affairs. And by the third installment, he was able to think like a Hong-Kong mafia boss and predict what is ahead. He loves saying "hai meh?" ("really?") in various tones of speech: sarcastically, sincerely, comically. And he makes the hospitable aunties at our regular Chinese eatery laugh when he says "mmmm goy..." ("please" or "thank you") and "mai dan" ("check please"). 

"So who's your favourite actor so far?" I asked him last night.

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?