Tea

Last year for Christmas I bought a bag of English Blend tea and sent it off to my friend Matt in Australia. It never arrived but chose instead to circumnavigate the  globe at its leisure (Matt muses that it may have been carried by directionally-challenged pigeons), visiting various parts of the world. It only arrived today in Marin, California, in the good ole' U.S. of A, fifteen months too late. Matt brewed himself a cup to test its mettle.

English tea for the English man.

 "Is tea like wine?" he asks. "Does it get better with age?"

 So far so good.

Gaaaaaaargh!

Apparently I have killed yet another friend. And this one really was an accident.
Note to self: must be more careful. They are getting harder to replace. 

Emil Nyström

 Emil Nyström is a friend of mine, a talented musician (he plays in the band Zonaria) and he is an excellent photographer to boot. I have decided that the day I am famous enough to hire a photographer, I'll hire him. Though I know I should generally appreciate him for his artistic eye in all matters, I can't help but love a project that strikes a little closer to his heart--pictures of his little girl. Where does he get the ideas?

Sometimes things don't get done unless you do them yourself.

Fruit ninja

Like what you see? I suppose if you're in Sweden you could hire him, but in the meanwhile you can simply enjoy his art at emilmedia.se.

Ah, Maturity

My parents arrived in Singapore today, and apparently they had tried calling me on my phone, which failed (naturally) and I did not think I would see them until tomorrow, which is why I was a bit out of sorts when they showed up on my doorstep: I was in the throes of spring cleaning--in other words, it was a fine mess to behold. I had no excuse for myself, and I really just wanted to convince them of my maturity and stamp my foot, "I can take care of myself, really. I can. I can!"

Treasure Island

I just returned from an island paradise. Granted I actually live on an island, tropical and beautiful as any, I meant to say I have returned from an even smaller island with blue waters and blue skies, and I enjoyed my time there immensely. At the moment though I am very sleepy and will recount the details of my adventure in a while.

Parent Tintin Conference

Today I had no classes but an all-day parent teacher conference. I knew I had to dress appropriately (my pirate trousers were out, and so were any turbans), and even more importantly, I had to dress to impress. And who better to instill a sense of misplaced confidence than Tintin? He traverses the globe at a tender age, taking on hoodlums and gangsters and political agendas, all in the pursuit of truth and other journalistic endeavours. Sounds a bit like teaching.

I am wearing long, brown trousers--sadly not the classic plus-fours--but I can simply say that I was dressing as a much later reincarnation of Tintin, when he has taken to sporting straight-legged trousers instead.

How 'bout that?

Chinatown

Here I am,  on my way to meet up with Trixia, the owner of Green Sea Blue, a blog devoted to old school photography. She likes graphics and photography, and not only is she stunningly multi-talented, but also one of my oldest Singaporean friends. We have known each other since we were both knee high, and I have not seen her in a great many years--despite this, it felt like no time had passed between us. I guess you reach a point where time is irrelevant.

We had decided beforehand that we should together play the tourist in our homeland and go to Chinatown with two specific intentions: eat good food and take good pictures. We began our trip with a bit of sustenance.

Noodles, fried dumplings, and lime juice. 

A quick stop to see Tintin 

 It was a wonderfully moody day with low, scudding clouds and the threat of rain in the air. 

The leftover dragon decorations from Chinese New Year 

Hindu temple and tourist attraction 

The heavens finally made good on their threat and opened up, driving us to seek shelter in a conveniently placed traditional dessert shop. We bought a soursop snow, which is a type of shaved ice with a sweet, pungent fruit sauce poured across it. 

Chinatown is known for its 3-for-10$ deals and its milling tourists; but when the rain has dashed all hopes for the day, the tourists leave and the streets grow remarkably quiet, with only the gentle tap of raindrops on the canvas overhangs. I much prefer it this way.

Paladin Awakens

My friend Alicia has finished a book! A bleeding novel of 113,733 words! She's done it! She's completed a monumental task, climbed one mountain only to find another beyond the valley: editing. Her novel is called Paladin Awakens, and I am much too tired and too weighed down by grading to summarize its contents. Instead I'll just point you to the author's actual pitch.

Four hundred years after a rather catastrophic forced retirement, ex-Paladin Liera Sora has assumed the identity of Lia Roric, human healer for the fighters of the Arena. Living in the slums without her magic isn’t easy, but she’s kicking back, relaxing, and rolling with the (often literal) punches for the first time in her long life--which makes it awkward when she encounters an old comrade-in-arms who wants to bring her back into the fold. 

The last thing Liera wants to do is get involved in another war, but after a serious guilt trip and the appearance of her murderous little sister, she finds herself homeward bound with a former rival, an awestruck go-fer, a felonious best friend, and an old Magus who’s more wisecracking than wise. Everyone is depending on her to resume her duties as Paladin and save the world--again. But first, she has to regain her powers and quell some vicious ghosts from her rather eventful past. 

Bringing a healthy dose of self-awareness and some humor to the tropes of sword-and-sorcery, Paladin Awakens begins the story of an anti-heroine whose biggest strength might be her inability to forgive her own weakness. Everyday woes and humorous quirks ground the memorable cast as they set out on a quest that forces them to confront both the evil without and within. 

Alicia, I am very proud of you, and I am looking forward to the day I can point to a signed copy of that book on my shelf and say, "I know her."