A Hit at Starbucks

Nothing's better than a fresh cup of coffee in the morning.

Even better when it's served with a wide welcoming smile - and a dark twinkle in mocha chocolate brown eyes.

Is it any wonder that cute baristas are hit on every other day? If you ask me, the customers are hardly to blame. Standing at the line at Starbucks, there is nothing much to do in between placing the order and receiving the java.

Paul : One caffe mocha. Tall.
Barista : Yes, sir. Would you like whipped cream with that?
Paul : Only if you get slathered up in it.
Barista : Now that would be wasting cream!
Paul : Not if I lick it all up.
Barista : Well it does taste good.
Paul : Now if I could only get you on a muffin to go.

Cheap thrills, I know. And it almost always scandalizes the God-fearing customers standing right behind me. Of course their shocked expressions only goad me further. Turns out getting hit on is pretty common at java chains. No doubt a dangerous combination of jazzed-up customers high on coffee courage paired with adorable post-teenage baristas in forest green aprons.


Coffee, tea or me?
Been chatting them up a little too often these days since I've recently decamped to Netherfield. Unfortunately it takes at least a few days for the internet connections to be reconnected. Hence my recent Starbucks hauntings. While I was lazing about waiting for my mocha, I chanced upon an interview for a fresh new barista.

Of course the senseless questions are always forthcoming.

Interviewer : How would you describe teamwork in your own words? How would you define community?

Seriously. Buy a dictionary why don't you? Does the Human Resource Dept sit together by committee to come up with such inane questions? Is there even a correct answer to all that?

But I digress. Then the interviewer started ane ntire long spiel about customers, their wayward habits and how they are always right.

Interviewer : So would you be alright with the customers hitting on you?

I know the reasons they ask is to gauge a prospective employee's response - but does anyone actually dislike getting hit on?

Monsoon Rains

Into each life a little rain must fall.

Always struck me as a particularly poignant phrase. Even though we hope for the best, we can't all have sunny days the whole year round after all.

The inevitable rain will come. Lately it seems my relationship has been suffering an unseasonal monsoon on par with the thunderstorms battering our northern states. Dark clouds have been gathering with our time apart - and it seems Charming Calvin has started developing doubts about our relationship. Time by the darkened window sill with the relentless raindrops battering the fragile pane has given him time to brood - never a good thing - which has led to a disturbing puddle of misgivings forming.


Get the umbrellas out, boys.
I'm a shockingly low-maintenance boyfriend. At least I like to think so. Don't require much apart from knowing that I have someone out there who will support me when I stumble on occasion. Otherwise I can stand tall on my own very well, thank you very much. Sure there are some things I'd love to change about Calvin. But though I love the occasional fixer-upper project, I draw the line when it comes to boyfriends. If you want a DIY project, go get a broken-down chair, don't get a boyfriend.

Turns out I haven't fulfilled his expectations when it comes to a boyfriend. Like the pouring rain it came. More time. More affirmation. More romance.

Of course I blew my top. Though I don't mind the occasional downpour, storms that roll in unexpectedly to leave me drenched and dripping always piss me off.

Then an ex called. The urge to drown him with my own complaints was there but I managed to hold in the flood. Some things you just don't discuss with an ex.

Paul : Just some problems with the boyfriend.
My ISO : Whatever you're thinking, don't.
Paul : Don't what? I haven't said a word.
My ISO : I know you. You get the occasional irrational leap of insanity. Whatever it is, don't.
Paul : I have no plans to ...
My ISO : Take a day off.

It's been a day. So yes, I've calmed down.

Ironic, isn't it to get advice from an ex? Guess my ISO has had some experience with my mercurial moods. Bet that bump on his head still hurts.

And Charming Calvin did make some valid points. Yes, into each relationship there has to be rain. But it also cleans out the dirt and clutter - so hopefully there'll be better, brighter days ahead.


Get the umbrellas out, boys. Looks like there'll be rain.

All About Jiwang

Jiwang.

A colloquial Malay word that encompasses anything, and everything, dealing with a nauseating surfeit of emotion. A terribly apt term I've surprisingly come to associate with much of Mando-pop.

For a taciturn race seemingly tough, unemotional and pragmatic, the Chinese have come up with a bewildering anthology of music dedicated to heartbreak with all the affliction, agony and anguish. Sentimental mush if you will.

Or what I call weep, whimper & whine wails.


Can't I wallow just a bit longer?
Rather than the liberated cries of freedom from the likes of Kelly Clarkson and Pink, over here on this side we have the stereotypical Mando-pop music video featuring the sad, lonesome figure manfully trying to hold back tears while sighing / languishing in a dimly-lit abandoned residency. Crouched in corners. Staring at mirrors. Occasionally juxtaposed with lingering views of a desolate, bleak, windswept landscape.

There could be impending storms as well.

Once exposed - and hooked - to such regrettably jiwang music, I defy anyone to remain unmoved by such pathos. Certainly explains the extreme sentimentality of the regular listeners of Mandarin radio.


Hell, even the usually feisty A-Mei 阿妹 has an entire set of heart-rending sob stories for your listening pleasure. Staples of karaoke fans such as Charming Calvin. :)

Paul : Umm... Was A-Mei weeping over her lost kite in the video?
Calvin : No.
Paul : Why are they always weeping in dark, lonely rooms?
Calvin : Heartbreak lo.
Paul : They can't turn the lights on?
Calvin : Heartbreak lo.
Paul : Wallowing in self-pity won't help. Stop whimpering pathetically in dingy corners and go buy a new dress dammit!
Calvin : They don't have such songs in Chinese.
Paul : Buy dumplings then?
Calvin : No.

In direct contrast to the music I usually listen to. Never listen to wimpy James Blunt with his tearful tour de force of You're Beautiful of course. Sure I do have the occasional lovey-dovey strains of a winsome Taylor Swift but even Miss Goody-Two-Shoes has her angry moments.


Doesn't that explain the differing views on what constitutes a relationship?

Weaving Rattan Baskets

Girl : He stays with his parents.
Paul : Well they are ancient. You expect him to toss them in a rattan basket and leave them by the hillside?
Girl : Well, no, but he could always get his own place.
Paul : And leave them in that big old house?
Girl : Perhaps at the retirement home?
Paul : We're Asian. We don't do that.

I meant it as a joke.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how true it was for me. Certainly a given for me - as I'm sure it is for many of my peers. No matter how screwed up, your parents raised you; so when you’re old enough, you do the same for your parents. Turns out Confucius is alive and well in my home.


Yes, we are helluva conservative when it comes to this.
So when exactly did this change? When did we start following the Western style of parenting? When did the kids start thinking of moving out right after school leaving the elderly folks in a nursing home? When their parents gave them the boot right after college graduation?

Does filial piety mean handing out monthly fees for the retirement home?

Of course, advocates of the Octogenarian Nursing Home would cite proper nursing care, a greater sense of community and increased autonomy for the elderly. The advantages are clear but I think it's an easy cop-out. I don't see why they can't have all that while staying with their children as well.

I'm not saying dealing with old folks approaching senility is all that easy. I've had more than my fair share of forgetful senior citizens in my life - so yes, I understand they can be quite a burden ( ouch, I know! ) at times.

But come on, life isn't meant to be easy. Some responsibilities you just can't shirk. Till you really have exhausted all resources, you should make that little bit of effort to try. If your parents had wanted life to be easier, wouldn't it be simpler to just ship you off to a nursing creche / boarding school the second you started crawling as well?

Bikes, Rempits & Thieves

The thing that struck me while I was in Hanoi - or should I say brushed by me a half dozen times a day - was the thousands of motorcycles on its streets. Almost overwhelming in number, noise and sheer chaos.

In an ancient city with narrow streets, lanes and backalleys bisecting the endless tubehouses, the motorcycle is the most efficient, cost-effective and cheapest mode of transportation around. Think it's pretty safe to say that the communist government hands every loyal Hanoian an itty little bike at birth. :)


Not as common on the streets here as you'd think.
Yet there are not as many snatch thieves and mat rempits around. At least none that I saw.

Paul : No mat rempits here?
Hanoikid : What are those?
Paul : Bored young idiots who prefer to die young by racing bikes on the streets at midnight.
Hanoikid : Hanoi people work hard. No time to do all that.
Paul : That's actually quite profound in a way.

Same goes for the bustling Chinese megacities as well. Countless numbers of motorcycles on the streets yet not as much street crime.

Which is something I can't say for our country.

Sadly a perennial social problem here. Unruly thugs-on-wheels who participate in illegal street races, snatch thefts and assaults with impunity. A handful smash head-first into walls during their midnight runs but five more hooligans spring up to replace them. Unfortunately our government is a soft touch when it comes to such juvenile delinquents, preferring to spare the rod when it comes to such rotten children.

So much so that our streets aren't at all safe anymore. Even the soft purr of the motorcycle is enough to have us watching our backs.

Sigh.