P's graduation

  The day before P's convocation ceremony, I went to order a bouquet of flowers and then visited Mum at the temple. It was a lovely peaceful day. I told Mum, P was going to graduate tomorrow in case she forgot and we were going to watch P for her.

  L had arranged to come my house in the afternoon and we were messaging all the way on the train and while I walked home to coordinate timings. Strangely, the moment when I reached home, my handphone blacked out and stopped working. I charged it for hours after, but nothing happened. I switched my sim card into Mum's handphone - at P's university the next day, I told Dad about it... that somehow I had the strange feeling that Mum wanted me to bring her handphone to P's ceremony so my handphone went flat. We laughed, and I joked, that would mean my handphone would be miraculously resurrected the next day.

  And it did.

   But all that happened after, and in the moment of P's graduation, there was an unsaid shared consciousness of what could not be there. As Dad shared later, we miss her most on days like these.

     I knew Mum was watching over P in her usual classic way - smiling at P's penchant for high heels. Those are my shoes, Mum. But, those shoes were found by P, ever the beauty scavenger. She's taking her first step into the adult world now, into a place that we can no longer protect.

     We can only watch now, Mum, only watch.

       

Star Ratings (2)

     P is probably my fiercest critic. She insisted that I edited the top right corner of the blog to clarify what star ratings actually mean. "It's confusing!" P stated in a tone that suggested that an unclear star rating system was close to travesty. So, there P!

   She tut-tutted at some of the photographs I uploaded and proceeded to photo-bomb me with many of the other taiwan photographs she took. ZM says it feels like the blog is being edited by two people. Haha. Of course, you can only hear what P says through me, because if she ever has a blog, it would be only updated once a year. She is perfectionist to a flaw. If you are close enough to be invited to her instagram, you will know what I mean - "I don't post shit" is P's hidden motto, or at least shit would have to be rainbow-coloured with golden sprinkles to even have a chance.

   I hope this is clear - a star rating is supposed to be uncommon (though perhaps not, since I would only be motivated to write about something truly great). It is my own mini self-indulging award.

   1* - Highly Recommended

   2** - In A Class of Its Own

   3*** - Life Changing!

  P is enthusiastic about the paris entries, "You have to use my pictures of Paris." It's true - she makes Paris looks like paradise. Perfection, I guess, does come in handy once in a while.  

Ciel Patisserie

Ciel Patisserie
Blk 124 Hougang Ave 1 #01-1444
Opens on Tues-Thurs (11am to 8 pm), Sat (11 am to 9 pm) & Sun (3pm to 9 pm)
Lovely range of tarts & cakes
1* Lemon Meringue Tart

      Every time you see a gorgeous photograph on my blog (see above), it is likely taken by P. Clearly, our parents gave us different gifts. Ciel Patisserie is interesting because it was set up by a very young baker (she's about 23 this year) in a HDB estate. I really like the thought behind this place, it's called "Ciel" meaning "sky" or "heaven" in French because she would like to give everyone a slice of heaven.

 

    The decor lacks a little je ne sais quio, but is youthful and comfortable. The strawberry shortcake and cheesecake (called Scarlet, I think) were relatively wholesome. But, the lemon meringue tart was an exciting mix of freshness, cream and hardness. Not too sweet, not too sour - the tantalizing kiss that only lemon can give.

 

    

    Lots of girls came into the shop - some of them their heads just reaching the counter, their little hand in their mother's. Some from the school we went to, it seems, not so long ago, but it's already been years. 

    It's so nice, I thought, to have a beautiful dream of a place like this. 

     "I'm writing a book for Mum," I told P. "I'll need you to help me with the images." 

     She laughed. 

     "Will you write something too?" I asked. 

     She says she is still trying to remember. To go through the memories and find out what she would like to say. 

     P and I are not scared of death. We talk of death sometimes like a neighbour living around the corner. Oh, death is not frightening. It is the death of others that is so. It is the hurt and sadness that comes after death. 

    Death will come one day. In the meantime, let's just sip some tea and eat some cake. It will be nice, I thought, to have something sweet to think about on the way. 

    

you say potato, i say potato

   

   P and I went out together today. People always asks us if we are twins. Nine out of ten times, we cannot stand each other - but for the one time we can, it's always very nice. For one, we are ruthlessly honest with each other and don't ever have to pretend. Siblings. 

    Sometimes, I wonder what P and Dad do with their sadness. 

   Tonight, Dad and I went to have dinner with Dad's Sister (arguably my favourite aunt on Dad's side) and Cousin A and her gorgeous family as they visit from Sydney. Cousin A and her family just glows - clearly very content and happy. It's wonderful to watch. Cousin A is forty but looks thirty. I'm hoping we share some of the same genes. 

  There were moments during the dinner when I thought how nice if Mum was here as well. I wonder what she would say. I think she would love the cod fish. Small things. Isn't it amazing how tall E is now? I think she's taller than you! And M, hyperactive child that he is, is still very cute. M gave Dad and I a hug before we left the train. 

   Sometimes the loss inside of me feels so great that I feel like the whole world is just falling through me. But, I guess -- we try. 

   Cousin A gave ZM and me a belated wedding present. It's an empty book to write in. It's really beautiful. I hope I would have filled it in by the time she next comes to visit, or maybe we go to visit in Sydney.

   I read the most beautiful article today. ZM said the couple lived so frugally, and I said, but they were so happy. They were so happy. 

   "So what shall we collect?" He laughed. 

    "I don't know," I answered. 

    I haven't figured out what happiness is yet. 

Paddington House of Pancakes

Paddington House of Pancakes
Opening Hours: 11 am to 10 pm (Mon-Sun)
About $20 per pax
Western, International
Wide range of pancakes & serviceable

      Paddington falls into the spectrum of food places where I enjoyed the experience overall but would not recommend it to friends. Not without reservations at least. Paddington is what I would call a Good Idea place that does not taste as good. It's a real pity though because it has a beautiful menu:

       

     P tells me Paddington is a franchise brought over from KL. Its concept is pancakes around the world - so the menu is really beautiful and extensive. Truly drool-worthy. But perhaps therein lies the problem. Each pancake is supposedly made only after you order it - so there is a 15-20 minutes wait. Indeed, there is a wait, but when my pancakes reached me, it wasn't even warm! I ordered some fancy naming Buckleberry and P ordered Oslo.

   

     My blueberry pancakes clearly stemmed from a good idea. Cream cheese filling! It tasted good even though my pancakes weren't warm. But imagine if they were piping hot and the cream cheese melted in the mouth! Alas.

      And, look Oslo and Buckleberry have the exact same type of eggs! The pancakes doesn't seem too different either - so why does it take so long?

    I think there's just too many options on the menu and you can't completely blame the kitchen staff for not being on top of things. So, I think in the end everything was just about there but not enough. Serviceable. Just like the decorations - rather run of the mill we-are-oh-so-cool-industrial and how I realised later that the bill exceeded $50 but the cashier did not tell me to pay using DBS so I could get a complimentary pot of tea. Serviceable, but not there.

 

         Still, it is a decent pancake house with killer drinks (we ordered a wicked pitcher of some lemon lime zest). I am pickier than most when it comes to pancakes. As P and I reminisced about our old swimming days and how Dad and Mum would bring us to this terrific old school pancake place for dinner afterwards or even Mum's truly awesome banana pancakes for breakfast. The thing about pancakes for me is that it does not need to be fancy, it does not need to come from some exotic place in the world. It just needs to come from the heart.  

   So, I don't need hundreds of choices for pancakes. It feels like all the choices are hiding what is at the heart of a real pancake. A real pancake is a big fat hug in the morning from someone who loves you. And the most important thing about a hug is that you need it to be warm.