Reflections of a Woman's Heart

Today, I had the cheapest lunch ever in my 4 1/2 year stay in London (not counting the free ones). 

My meal consisted of 2 bread rolls - yummy, crusty, and warm from the oven. Costing me a total of... 40p.

I had a craving for piping hot bread yesterday... so I bought 2 small rolls from Tesco (one white, one wholemeal), thinking I could snack on them later in the day.

I never got down to it - got too distracted by a delicious blueberry muffin, which I gobbled down whilst walking home from the grocer's.

My luncheon, hardly a feast... was surprisingly satisfying. I had popped the rolls into the oven for 10 mins to get them heated up, so by the time they were ready, they were as good as freshly baked. Smothered with butter, it was heavenly.

I hardly ever eat bread (except in restaurants which serve them, complimentary of coz) - all that carb is... fattening. But somehow, I'm throwing caution to the winds, and pampering myself early this summer. 

A day or two before the big night out, you'll catch a cold or sore throat.

In my case, I suffered a slight hayfever last night - the usual sniffles and throat irritation. 

It didn't lighten up this morning, and I've taken my anti-allergy pill. It seems to have gotten worse, and I'm even down with a sore throat.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

I hope I'll be able to belt out at least a few decent numbers tommorrow, else no amount of dinner will be able to compensate the sheer torture of sitting through a 3 hour karaoke session, without once clutching the mike.

I'm praying hard I won't have to sit there all night smearing my face with oily Chinese food. 

It's ironic, but I listen to more Chinese songs while living in the UK than when I was back in Singapore. I never used to listen to Chinese songs, and the songs I knew, I literally picked them up while attending karaoke sessions with friends from back home.

And as we went more often, those popular songs became more familiar, and I learnt whole songs by hard, simply by hanging out with my friends. It was rare that I made an effort to learn a song by hard, much less buy a CD because I liked a particular number on it.

Oh, I'm not saying it never happened, just that, it was wasn't a very common occurrence. Unless it struck a chord, or had extremely touching lyrics. I didn't have the patience to sit down to listen to a full song, much less memorize it. But somehow, the regular karaoke sessions with my gang helped tremendously.

Then I came to London, and karaoke became a thing of the past. I even stopped listening to Chinese songs altogether.

Till I met Kwok about 1 1/2 ago. He soon introduced karaoke to me in London, and we've become karaoke buddies since. Every few months, we'd hang out with Sharon, another karaoke fanatic, to do a 3 hr song session where we'd belt out song after song (usually in Mandarin).

Unbelievably, my repertoire of Chinese songs has increased tremendously - I've started paying closer attention to songs that I like, especially those within my vocal range . When I hear a pleasant tune and think "hey, I can do that!", it gives me greater incentive to learn it for the future karaoke opportunities.

It's quite amazing that I would consciously make an effort to learn a song (at least know the tune, and some of the words). Once I get hold of the mp3 and its lyrics (thanks to internet downloads), I play the song to death 2-3 days before another karaoke session, just to familiarize myself with its melody, and I actually make an effort to sing along while multi-tasking (e.g. washing dishes, cooking, typing!).

Kwok, Sharon and I will meet up on Thursday for another ktv session, and I'll be bringing a Taiwanese girlfriend (also Sharon) along, so she can experience singing karaoke in London.

For this upcoming event, I'm trying to learn 4 new songs (梁靜茹 - Fly Away,  孙燕姿 - 遇见, 孙燕姿 - 我不难过,  楊丞琳 - 暧昧), so hopefully, I can master these pieces by the time I meet them.

It's ironic that I would know more Chinese songs now than before, simply because I make the effort to listen and learn them - it's relieving to know I won't be totally behind times when I'm back in Singapore and I'll be able to keep my dignity while crooning among fellow ktv addicts. Even if these songs I sing won't exactly top of the pop by then.

The only problem I have learning new songs in London is that most of the time... I can't even find them at karaoke outlets, coz the songs are either too new, or the selection of singers are limited.

In recent weeks, I've had a craving for pancakes. Not just ANY pancakes - I wanted to make my own.

I don't know where the 'inspiration' came from, but one fine day, I woke up thinking... "hey, I want to make some (pancakes, that is)!"

I looked up some pancake recipes on the net, just to verify the 'formula'.

It shouldn't be too hard - I remember mom making some for the family when I was little. And my mom never took the trouble to make complicated recipes. Thus, I was convinced it wouldn't be too much work. I had all the necessary ingredients at home, anyway. Flour, eggs, milk, sugar, salt.

Most of the net recipes mentioned 'self-raising flour', but I doubt my mother ever bought self-raising flour in her life (unless it was for baking a cake during her home economics class 45 years back), so I could safely skip that.

Though I had gathered all the necessary ingredients 2 weeks ago, it wasn't till today that my urgings got persistent enough to drag me out of bed to whip up breakfast. Or brunch. It was already 10.30am when I started.

I liberally poured flour into a large container, poured in the milk, and beat 2 eggs. Most of the recipes mentioned 2 cups of flour (and 2 cups of milk) - so I reckon as long as I mix in the same amount of flour and milk, I can't be too far wrong. I cannot be bothered with the nitty gritties when it comes to cooking (and heaven forbid I ever have to weigh any ingredients).

I didn't expect to end up with so much mixture! I think I was a little too heavy handed with the flour at the beginning, and had to use more milk to 'balance' it off. And no one told me I'd end up with a lumpy concoction!!!

Eeeks.

And then I recalled mom had asked me to knead the batter with my hands when I was little. It hadn't been a pleasant sensation, coz the milk was cold, and there were all those lumpy bits added to the milk.

I had hated it.

Too late. I wasn't having as much fun as I thought I would.

I guess, a mixer/blender would have saved me the trouble of getting my hands soiled - but  I didn't have one. I've never baked a cake in my life, and never saw the need for a mixer, altho I've been tempted to get one for baking purposes.

I think I spent at least half an hour trying to massage the stubborn lumps to a smooth blend, all this while using stiff, numb fingers (cold cold milk, arrrgh!).

I also didn't own a sieve. RULE NUMBER ONE - if one is going to make pancakes, one needs a sieve!

It called for a stroke of creativity (no, I didn't use a sock), and eventually... I succeeded in creating a potion which would have done smoothie makers proud. Don't ask how.

Now, I only had to fry the darn thing and it should be smooth going from here. Or so I thought.

Everyone knows that it is time to flip a pancake when bubbles appear on the surface of the uncooked end.

There were no bubbles in my first pancake!! How the hell would I know when to flip the darn thing if there were no bubbles?!

I had to keep checking the bottom bit to ensure it wasn't too burnt, and in the meanwhile, the uncooked mixture on top kept trickling down the sides into the hot pan.

Dammit. Too much mixture in the pan, my first pancake was too thick! There were no bubbles probably coz none could surface!

I flipped anyway, since the bottom bit was sufficiently brown. But the watery top flowed onto the pan before I was quick enough.

My first pancake was messy.

It broke.

It wasn't perfectly round, as pancakes should be.

It wasn't sweet enough.

And it was too thick.

*Sob*

I ladled in less mixture in consecutive tries, but it wasn't till my 5th try that I managed a perfectly round (and brown) little pancake.

By then, I had learnt the knack of adding only 3/4 ladleful of batter mix into the hot pan. I even managed to add a few rasins (for deco and taste) on subsequent pancakes.

On the whole, I can't say my first pancake making attempt was a total success. It wasn't a bad try, but it was a lot more work than I envisioned it would be.

It would have been much easier to spend £1 getting a bagful of pancakes at the groccer's. Cheaper, no hassle, and probably more delicious.

I don't think I'll be making pancakes anytime soon. But if I ever have kids, I reckon it'll still be something I'll try. By then, I'll definitely have bought an electric mixer, and own a sieve. It's such an idyllic scene - mothers making pancakes for her children on a Sunday morning.

Even if it is easier to just buy them off a supermarket.

But my best memories of pancakes weren't about how they tasted. I don't really care for pancakes. But then, it had been sweet and delicious, coz mom only made them once in a long while as a treat.

I'm moving.

After 3 years, I'm moving from my current studio apartment in St John's Wood to a beautiful one bedroom flat in Willesden Green.

It's right across the lane from where I used to live (Manstone Rd) when I first moved to London in 2001. Jo stayed there with me when she visited (she was the only one I offered accommodation to, although 4-5 or my friends visited me during that first year). The rest were my guy pals... so too bad for them! :P

I'm familiar with the neighbourhood, so I was quite comfortable shortlisting it as one of the possible places I'd move to, coz I'll be no newbie to the environment. Although, there's been many (positive) developments about the neighbourhood since I left.

I'll be getting my keys on 20th June, and already, I'm excited and can't wait! :)

I love my current apartment, and the location is excllent. St John's Wood is fabulous, safe and convenient for travelling to the places I frequent most (ie Oxford St & Chinatown). But unfortunately, the rent is going up, and for the price I'm paying now, I'm better off getting a bigger place somewhere else.

A full day of property viewings on Monday had me in a bit of a conundrum. Usually, I encounter quite a few shit places before I see even one potential place I'd like to live at. But after viewing 10 properties on Monday (drop dead tiring day!), I actually found 4 places that I could seriously love to live at... so it was a tough call.

But none of them were perfect. Each had pros/cons (e.g. further from transportation, location, landlord downstairs etc)... so, while I was tempted to say yes to each of them, I was still hesitating, coz I was holding out for something better. I was waiting to fall in love, not just tingle in appreciation.

Seriously, it was a miracle I even found those 4 nice apartments. But because I found 4 nice ones, it was hard to make a decision. It's almost unheard of (knowing my luck!) to find so many nice places in a day. Most times, I'm lucky if I even find one, after viewing several crappy/dodgy places in a day. I was so lucky that I managed to find my lovely studio flat at St John's Wood, that I 'almost' grabbed it immediately on the spot. My only reservation then had been the high rental, but I never regreted my decision. Not once.

Then, I had intended to stay for 6 months, but ended up living herefor 3 years. It's been the emotional and peace haven for most of my days in London, and I am a tad sad to leave.

Just when I thought I'd have to decide on one of the 4 short-listed apartments, I came across the ad for the 1-bed flat in Willesden Green on Monday night. It sounded too attractive to be true (includes council tax, water bills, electricity and comes with brand new finishings), so first thing on Tuesday morning, I called up and set up an appointment to view the place around lunch time.

I very nearly didn't get to see it, coz the agent nearly couldn't make it. But I was already on my way there, so he phoned the builders (the place is still being renovated) and asked them to let me in to view the property.

It is a Victorian house with 7 apartments (consisting of studios and 1 bed flats) - all newly refurbished. The top floor (my flat) was only half done, and the wooden flooring hadn't even been laid in the bedroom. But the space was promising, and I saw the 'finished project' in some of the other apartments downstairs. They looked reeeeally good!

My flat was the ONLY unit left available (and the largest in terms of floor space, altho the attic roofs slanted off part of my ceiling). It gave me a slight sense of claustrophobia, although the main thing that worried me was finding suitable furnishing that would fit the bedroom, cos half the bedroom 'ceiling' was slanted.

It being the last unit available added to the urgency of my decision to take up the offer on the spot. If I didn't take it, the next guy who viewed it probably would. Who could pass up such a good deal?!

According to the builder, ads to all the properties had been placed on Sat. 5 apartments were snapped up on the spot when potential tenants first viewed it on the same day. Flat 6 (mine) and 7 were on the top floor (attic level), and Flat 7 was taken on Monday. The landlord must be laughing all the way to the bank!

The agent sounded unsure about showing it to me at first, coz there appeared to be a 'waiting list' for the number of people who wanted to view the place. Besides, there wasn't any 'hurry' since the aparment was still being done up, and they could get viewings for it in the next 1-2 weeks once they finish with all the renovations.

I'm so glad I insisted in setting up an early appointment to view the flat!! Coz the moment I saw it, it was clear the place was the most superior of all the place apartments I had seen (and that is saying a lot!). Slapped with an attractive rental (slightly more than my current apartment, but more spacious, and with a fully equipped kitchen), I hardly had any reason to say no.

I guess I had been waiting for such an opportunity - to view a property I could fall in love with at first sight, and embrace the impulse to say YES immediately. :)

That afternoon, I went by the estate agent's office and placed a hefty 3 week's holding deposit with them.

The agent I was dealing with was a total git (arsehole, bastard, s.o.b to boot). If not for the fact I loved the apt, I wouldn't have dealt with him... he would have put me off before I even viewed the place. I didn't realise it was his colleague (someone way nicer and a human being) who had handled the phone calls all along.

In my dictionary, housing agents should be warm and friendly, and give off an impression of reliability. This bloke (Alex) had none of these qualities. He was arrogant, impatient and right down careless.

I examined the receipt for the holding deposit he handed me much later, and realised he had over calculated the sum by £200! Bloody hell.... and he had such a gigantic calculator on his desk which he pounded on too! It was waaaaaaay bigger than his face (quite apparantly, his brain), measuring 30cm by 25cm!

Well, I hope I won't have to deal with him too much. He's the only liability my apartment comes with. But since all the furnishings and equipment are going to be brand new, I don't think there's going to be a problem (fingers crossed).

This space has grown cold.

It's not because there's been nothing to write about, but rather... I've been reluctant to pick up my pen (or thoughts) over the past couple of months.

One could almost say I've been conscientiously 'avoiding' documenting my life, because there're just too many gaps I'e yet to fill in, and the part of me that demands perfection just stubbornly refuses to trudge on and leave its 'missing comrades' behind.

Still, it has snowballed into an avalanche of silence, and this must either melt eventually, or die a cold, quiet death.

Therefore, I must try to make an effort, or at least hoot at important moments of my life.

My life.

What has it amounted to?

The past few months haven't been hard, but they haven't been easy either... coz I've avoided examination to an art. Didn't someone once say, "the unexamined life is not worth living", or something to that effect? Socrates, was it? Or maybe I'm just making an utter fool of myself.

I've been content, happy even to fade into the background, as things drift past me. Moments come and go, and I'm still here... lingering.

Instead of waxing lyrical about life, shouldn't I look it in the eye and just live.

I often find myself in a situation where I open a fully stacked refrigerator, and find 'nothing' to eat.

Even though I just went grocery shopping last night.

It's like having a wardrobe full of clothes, and finding that there's 'nothing' to wear - either coz the colour's not right, the fit is wrong, or you're just not in the mood. Whatever it is, we've all been there, girls.

Right now, I have a fridge full of fruits - 2 melons, 4 large mangoes, 2 big bags of grapes (red and green), not to mention 3 lemons.

No, I'm not on a fruit diet - it's just been a great season for fruits, and everything looks so delicious at the supermarket. I'd buy more, but there's no space in my tiny fridge.

I am starring at 2 bags of vegetables, and 3 capsicum/peppers. Not to mention, a box of raw chicken fillets (come to think of it, I only ever buy chicken meat).

Since I'm too lazy to cook... I guess, I'll just microwave the bag of vegetables, even though the idea of a plant dinner hardly whets my appetite.

I know I oughtta get off my lazy butt, coz I do have enough stuff to cook if I wanted. There's loads of pasta, noodles, and rice. Oh yes.. I could even make tom yum soup with the vegetables and chicken, but I don't want to spend the next 20 mins slogging over the hot stove (okay, I don't have stove, but I do have hot plates for cooking).

And then, there's washing up. Ewww, I'm reeeeally not in the mood for pots and pans.

The mango salad I was planning to make will have to be shelved till the weekend. For now, I'm just going to take it easy, and pop myself a nutritious vege meal.

Yucks.

To say I’m a little bit frustrated is an understatement.

I’ve spent my entire week reinstalling programs, fine-tuning my laptop and backing up my data. Not to mention upgrading my broadband package, re-organizing my 200gb hdd.

Gasp! I've evolved into a total geek!

Needless to say, it’s not been an easy task.

Well, what can be so ‘difficult’ about installing programs or backing up data… one might ask. It should be a fairly simple job, but I’ve chosen to become a fastidious bitch this week.

Not only have I partitioned my hard disk to ensure that applications stay securely in Drive C, Drive D is solely for the use of storing data – now, I’ve taken to regretting this decision.

I should have partitioned my hard disk into 3 parts – one of which should solely address the issue of handling downloaded material from the internet. This way, if my drive gets infected, I can still afford to snip it out and reinstall what’s needed. In the worse case scenario, I could even reformat that particular drive – no loss biggie.

Yes, I’m still a resident of Paranoidia, which is far removed from paradise.

Alright, I confess the root of my disgruntlement is mostly linked to indecision – this is due to extensive research being done on the various softwares I’m evaluating: anti-virus programs, spy/adware programs, firewalls, dvd-burner softwares, media players that handle extensive codecs, etc etc.

Hmmm. I’ve got my job cut out ahead of me.

I’ve just found out – there’s no ONE software deemed as ‘THE BEST’. One man’s meat is another man’s poison. One PC mag will state ‘Anti-Virus A’ as the best thing invented since Over The Shoulder Boulder (aka strapped bras, although the men may not agree), another online-review will happily recommend Anti-Virus B because it’s “cheap, it’s fuss free, and it’s effective”. Of course, there are dozens of other reviews which will insist Anti-Virus C, D, E ~ Z are better and have won Editor’s Choice in Website X, Y, Z.

Sigh!

I’ve been infected.

With indecisiveness.

And greed.

I want it all, but I am simply too tired to sieve through the endless advertisements, packaging and blatant lies after going through more articles than I can recall for my MBA exams. And I don't even get accredition for this!

I know review outcomes vary largely simply because the reviewer suffers from an affliction – he is human. And being human, he would likely have preferences, and he would be prone to making mistakes.

It’s impossible to be partial if there are over a hundred softwares, each claiming to be the best. One would eventually have to take (the dark) sides, and narrow the choice down to the few that make the cut. Just how and why each makes the grade is questionable.

My latest frustration comes from evaluating various spyware programs. Just coz one program ids hundreds of supposed worms or adwares on a system doesn’t necessarily make it the best spyware protection there is. There could be serious repercussions to mistaking a registry entry as malicious, and the last thing I want is to cause more instability to my already tortured laptop.

Besides, I’ve read somewhere that no ONE spy/adware detector is wholly adequate for a system. It might be wise to rely on a couple, just to be safe. [Yes, I can hear you going (cuckoo resident of Paranoidia)…]

The problem is, I just can't seem to be satisfied. One minute, I have the seemingly 'perfect' software on the system, the next minute, I read in another article software B has got 'real time' scans available, so that makes it superior. Naturally, I chase after the smoking trails of software B.

I’m a mad woman on a mission to fine tune my system the best way possible, and right now, my relentless search for what’s best for my baby has not only proven time consuming, it has literally robbed me of precious sleep. And slowly ebbing away my sanity.

The weekend is almost here, and I reckon I’ll be spending most of my time at the laptop, doing more work on it.

But the good news is, I’ll probably have to stop somewhere, coz I intend to clean my room some time within the next 48 hours. My new hifi will arrive on Monday/Tuesday, and I want a clean environment to welcome the latest member into my mad household.

Age 31 going on 32 isn't such a bad number. I gotta consistently remind myself. Besides, I don't look it - YET.

But my body's telling me another story altogether. After my China trip, I'm left with 2 sprained ankles and a sprained wrist. My lower back aches, and my neck is stiff.

I'll need to pop a visit to my chiropracter tomorrow. I don't look forward to it - he's usually quite tough on me, although it's 'for my own good'. OWWW.

This reminds me of a recent trip to Watsons, Beijing...

While window shopping in a major departmental store, I spotted a Watsons, and zipped in though it was 5 minutes to closing time.

Despite the fact I was 'just browsing', I made it straight for the beauty care section, and randomly filled my basket with 'offer' items, and I know not what else - that is, till I walked out of the store.

Upon examining my loot, I was startled to find my shopping bag filled wholly with packs of facial and eye masks. And NOTHING else!!

Without realising it, I had unconsciously filled my basket with beauty care products - or to be precise, products which promise to slow down the process of aging.

Was I getting paraniod? Have I come to THAT AGE where I secretly dread facial lines, saggy skins and age spots?! I confess I'm terrified of my eye bags outweighing every other feature on my face, and in recent years, I've noticed deeper lines below the windows to my soul.

Yes, I would probably pay good money for a miracle cure - provided it works. Lift, tone, and magically erase my dark eye circles.

I think the first few years past 30 are the most crucial for any woman. She'll have to first re-adjust her mindset to accept she is finally in the THREE-O range, and no longer in her 20s.

Next, she'll have to be extra conscientious with beauty care products - one can afford to be careless in their 20s, but no longer when they hit 30. It's alright to hit 30, but you don't have to look it!

Last but not least, she'll have to contend with conflicting issues of whether or not to have children, and to have ready answers for prying friends and relatives should those questions ever surface.

I enjoyed my 20s, and I'm still living a good life... and I'll be darned if I fall victim to a woman who's afraid of the aging process, even if I am secretly dreading it.

If all else fails, I guess... I'll just have to age gracefully, and quit complaining about it.

But oh, if only my old bones could take it all without creaking too much!

I’ve always enjoyed romantic comedies starring Andy Lau and Sammi Cheng, so needless to say, I liked “龙凤斗”.

Whether it’s due to their past collaborations lending them great onscreen chemistry or the latter contributing to their continued success as HK movie’s favourite pairings, these two leads continue to dazzle with their charisma and impeccable comic timing.

“龙凤斗” – loosely translated as “Dragon and Phoenix Battle” (although titled "Yesterday Once More" in English) starts off with a bored Sammi agreeing to marry Steve, the son of a wealthy woman. On the condition he gives her the family jewels – a priceless necklace worth a king’s ransom.

It is apparent Sammi is only interested in the jewels, and her shrewd mother-in-law-to- be, Mrs Steve refuses to relinquish the rights of the jewels to her.

Under the terms of a contract Sammi is made to sign, she will only be allowed to use the jewels, which will be placed under her care till she turns 60, after which the jewels will be hers. If she divorces Steve, Sammi forfeits all rights to the necklace, and gets nothing in return.

Sammi agrees, since she has no intentions of honouring the contract – she intends to steal the jewels the moment Steve transfers them out from the safe deposit box of the bank.

Alas, her efforts are thwarted by her ex-husband, Andy, who is also a professional thief. In fact, the both of them have a habit of stealing whatever catches their fancy, and met during a counselling session at a psychiatrist’s office in their teens!

They fell in love and got married, although 2 years ago, Andy unexpectedly divorced her without telling her why.

With an illustrious partnership of successful theft attempts, it is clear they are a match made for the other, and still have mutual feelings, even though they are divorced.

What unfolds is a cat and mouse game between the two protagonists, as they engage in a delightful battle of wits against each other in order to keep the jewels.

Andy has the upper hand since he’s beaten his ex-wife to the necklace, but he enjoys baiting her and watching her sly attempts at challenging him.

It is also clear Sammi comes alive with happiness whenever she succeeds in outwitting Andy.

The light-hearted verbal cha cha between the couple are a joy to watch, so the ending was quite unexpected.

Throughout the show, we are never quite sure the reason why Andy divorced Sammi, as it is clear he still loves her. He later reveals that he left her 2 years ago because of a terminal illness, as he wanted to leave her with the best memories of their time together.

Even then, we are not quite sure if he is joking, since they’ve played far too many pranks on one another.

In order to prevent Sammi from marrying another man (for the jewels), Andy had stolen the necklace, as he knew she would then come after him for them.

As his end draws near, he cuts a deal with Mrs Steve to have Steve propose to Sammi with another set of priceless jewellery. He knows that Sammi will love the challenge of stealing it, and will be kept happily entertained (thus, happy) in the process (thinking that it is another competition between the two of them).

In the meanwhile, Andy is dying and even while he breathes his last, he makes arrangements for one last heist so Sammi can ‘enjoy’ herself, while thinking he too is competing with her for the jewels.

He dies without telling her and she is oblivious to what has occurred.

There is a poignant moment in the show where the wealthy Mrs Steve comments that Sammi, being the smart woman that she is, will surely guess what has happened (that Andy is the one masterminding these thefts for her entertainment/distraction) – to which Andy says as a matter of fact,

“There is still a slight difference between suspecting something and having that suspicion confirmed.”

They are his last words, as he leaves behind Sammi, his ex-wife and the woman he’s always loved.

In the last scene, she is seen driving away happily after her latest success at snatching yet another priceless jewel – not at all suspecting that the love of her life has quietly slipped away.

Due to the light-hearted pace set earlier in the movie, the ending left me gasping and a little shocked.

To say that it was unexpected is an understatement.

We all talk about “true love”, and the sacrifices one endures for it. We also hear about how one party suffers to make the other happy, at times, never letting the other know what one had to undergo for the sake of seeing their loved one smile and be happy.

I can understand Andy’s motivations in the show – here is a man with limited time, and he knows his loved one is happiest when she feels challenged and filled with the glee of winning. So, he tries his best to stage those opportunities for her.

But on the other hand, it is clear that Sammi loves him and he is more important to her than the priceless jewels that set her heart pacing.

Yes, it is touching that he left her clueless about his plans and intentions (he leaves her with all his fortune), so she is kept happily in the dark.

But she will probably find out eventually… so, wouldn’t heartbreak be inevitable?

Wouldn’t one want to spend their last moments with the person they love most?

And to learn the truth that you weren’t even given the chance to spend that time together is painful and cruel.

One can argue that when death is inevitable, heartbreak is certain.

And so, wouldn’t it be better to prolong happiness (as Andy Lau did for Sammi Cheng)?

She may never discover his whereabouts and the reasons for his disappearance from the world, but without a doubt, she’ll always remember him as her one and only true love.

And while she can only suspect that he may be terminally ill, she doesn’t have the proof to get it confirmed.

The existence of doubts cannot represent an irrefutable truth – so, perhaps with some traces of doubt, one can still lay claim to hope, and ultimately, some form of happiness?

Despite logically working out the reasoning behind Andy’s motives, I cannot say I agree with them.

My heart tells me that should I ever be placed in a similar position (thank heavens I don’t live in movieland!) I would wish to share my ups and downs with my loved one, including either of our last moments.

Even if the memories are painful, it would attest to us having shared a life and love together.

It is sometimes and painful when one party in the relationship insists on making sacrifices, without the willingness to accept similar sacrifices from their loved one.

Some can deem it sweet that one loves enough to only want the other party to always be the happy one, so they do not want the other person to undergo any pain or sacrifices.

But surely, to love means to give AND to receive. Without the ability to receive, this person may not realise that one sided loving can be a very lonely affair.

11/2

Dali (land of Jinhua – golden flowers): Story of the Bai Tribe

These are usually ex-lovers forced to part in their youth due to parental objections, or other reasons – and once a year for 3 days, they are allowed to spend 3 days (and nights) together.

This is probably the only festival in the world that allows (and blesses) the reunion of ex-lovers - one where the spouse allows their other half to meet with an old flame.

In other cultures, husbands and wives would probably go berserk at the thought of allowing their significant other meet up with a cherished old flame ‘for old time’s sake’.

This is why, my beautiful Bai guide told me, people of the Bai tribe respect the rarity of true love, and are willing to tolerate old lovers meeting up once a year, especially if these lovers were torn apart due to reasons unforeseen.

Mostly, ex-lovers meet with the intention to see how their loved ones are getting on, and to be assured that they are living a good life, even if they are not fated to be together.

The heart-breaking picture of an elderly couple with snowy white hair making the effort to meet up once a year to see that their beloved are living the good life, and thus be contented and happy for their sake makes a beautiful and touching story.

Like butterflies gathered round a pond, these lovers meet at a lake that has been dubbed Butterfly Pond. A mystical legend would have us believe that when spring arrives, a string of butterflies will sit in a row on the outstretched limb of a tree that hovers over the pond, thus earning the moniker “Butterfly Dream”, to signify the unfulfilled dreams of ex-lovers come to fruition.

10/2

Story of the Sani People (near Stone Forest)

Once a year, there is a tradition for unmarried men and women in the Sani Tribe to confess their love during a festival celebration.

During this celebration, young men compete for their sweetheart’s affections by expressing their love through song, dance and even poetry.

During the festival, if a girl consents to be his mate, the couple are allowed to spend 3 days together as man and wife (but without customary marriage ties).

When the 3 days are over, they must part for half a year, and not be allowed to meet in private again.

During this time, the young man must set about the approval of his mother-in-law!! For half a year, he should till their lands, help out with chores and prove to his potential mother-in-law that he makes a worthy husband for her daughter.

When the 6 months are over, the girl’s mother will invite him over for a family dinner. She will slaughter a chicken in his honour, and all will be revealed whether the young man makes the grade as future son-in-law.

If the mother-in-law gives him the chicken head, that means she agrees to the match – having given her ‘nod’ of approval.

If she gives him the wing, it means she hasn’t totally approved of the union, but he is allowed to ‘try harder’.

If she gives him the chicken feet, it is a hint for him to leave and walk away – she’s kicking him out, giving him the boot!

I couldn’t help laughing at what all the chicken parts signified. I guess, I’ll never look at chicken feet the same way again!