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Friday, July 30, 2004
How Shirley Saves Up For Rent And Food
 Today marks the last day off that I will have until further notice. Starting tomorrow, I am working more than full time at two different places, both selling tea and British culture. I am the official Tea Shop B*tch, attending to the beck and call of my boss, working wherever and whenever he wishes me to. My schedule so far has me working everyday until the end of the summer; when I'm not waiting tables at the restaurant, I'm selling tea at the store, and there are some days that I will be working at both places, one after the other. Yay for double shifts. I'm working more then full time here, clocking in about 48 hours in one week. Possibly more. All in the same Victorian-tea-maid uniform. When I'm not working, I'll be found in my room, hunched over my desk, poring through anthropology texts, desperately trying to learn all that I can about culture. It will be one sweet ass day when I can finally walk out of that examination room, throw my books in the trash and break my pencils in half. But I'll probably end up selling the books for money and put the pencils safely away in my bag. Annnnnd, when I'm not studying for this blasted exam, I'll be downstairs watching TLC and crying at all the different reality shows I get the pleasure of viewing. Love and weddings and babies and redecorating! Oh my. And yes, I will too cry. I never thought I'd be the type who'd cry at a wedding, nevermind a wedding aired on the television for goodness' sake, but I am. When the woman in the pouffy white dress walks down the aisle to Canon in D and when they recite those sappy vows, I'm all love and mush on the inside. I cry the most at A Baby Story. As the poor lady is clutching her husband's hand, possibly breaking all his bones, my face is all smushed up...then when the slimey newborn frees their mum from unbelievable pain, I relax said smushed up face, I find the tears rolling right out. I don't know if I'm crying at the whole miracle of brith and life thing or the pain the poor screaming woman is in (what gets me the most is yes, she can take drugs for the pain, but getting the dang epidural causes even more pain! Now that, Ms. Morrisette, is ironic), or the fact that I know that fate is inevitable for me as well. Well, off to studying. But first, one final toast. To freedom! To social life! To Summer. To friends and fun, Goodbye. 1:06 pm Tuesday, July 27, 2004
The Second In A Multiple Parts Series
That's right, they serve field mice. I've always paid attention to detail; the way my post-its have to be stacked in a pile from largest to smallest on my desk, always wearing 3 pairs of earrings, alphabetizing CDs, and other similarly neurotic things. But I've never had to pay attention to detail like I do when I work. Every table has to have a certain number of wetnaps and a flyer for the promotion of the moment, the table has to be set so that the utensils are exactly perpendicular to the edge, turn labels in when you want tea brewed, turn handles in when you want refills from the kitchen, only pick up tea pots when handles are turned out. That kind of thing. Restaurants in Vietnam were certainly not like this. Thailand was, but only because we got the 4 star tourist treatment while we were there. Big fancy hotels, big fancy restaurants. When we were in Vietnam, we did the regular civilian thing, which meant eating like everyone else. On the street, sometimes in settings that made you do a double take followed by a raising of an eyebrow, places with utensils still stained from the previous cutomer's hot sauce. Sanitation and cleanliness there is definitely not what it's like here. First of all, yes, eating outdoors does give you a healthy dose of sunshine, but when it's 45 degrees celcius and you can feel the UV rays breeding skin cancer in your pores, I doubt it's a good thing. Dinner provides somewhat cooler temperatures and refuge from the sun but then you're faced with another one of nature's enemies: mosquitoes. I !#$%^&* hate mosquitoes and they are the official bane of my little existence. I still have scars on my legs and feet from the 20+ bites I got in merely one week while in Ho Chi Minh. The little buggers seemed to have some sort of weird foot fetish because they wouldn't leave my tootsies alone. Two of the bites ended up swelling up so much that it hurt to walk and I was bed-ridden in the hotel for 3 days. Freaking blood sucking little... But I digress. Eating with one hand and swatting with the other can prove to be entertaining, but combined with the fear of not being able to walk for a few days does not provide for a relaxed meal. And there weren't just mosquitoes either, ants. Ants everywhere, crawling on my mother's coffee cup one morning too. When she complained and asked for another glass, the lady at the stand looked like she had never received such a request before and paused before taking it back. I wonder if she ended up spitting in the new coffee. That's why when I found hair in my food I picked it out, shut up and ate my noodles. Hair. Hair everywhere. It's always in your food and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it. The way I see it, at least it's cooked, right? That way all the potential germs have died, right? Right? 1:51 pm Sunday, July 25, 2004
This Goes Perfectly With My Last Post
You'll have to excuse my tardiness. 
Cute, huh? via Kevin @ fury.com 11:18 am Wednesday, July 21, 2004
On Google and Tea
Prediction for the future: Google is going to freaking take over the (e-)world. Not only is it the search engine of all search engines, but now they have fancy schmancy GMail (of which I am a proud but nonetheless nonchalant user), it also got it's groove on with Blogger (which I am more or less happy about since the new Blogger has more features and is capable of making this place all around prettier), and now they've recently acquired Picasa (in addition to already having Hello). Not that I'm complaining. With the help of Google's impending monopoly over the electronic world, I am one step closer to being that web-savvy chick I dreamed of oh not so long ago. I mean, I get to be a Rather, give me something service-y and retail-y to do and I'll do it like nobody's business. And earn tips while I'm at it. So I'm back in the working world, this time not as the office person/paperwork girl/boring admissions slave or even the tea-seller I once was. This time, I'm a tea server. And all around server while you're at it. I finally get to fufill my high school dream of becoming a waitress with varicose viens. Wait. The viens ideally wouldn't be part of said dream, but I hear they're inevitable, hence, inclusion in The Dream. I'm working for the same ol' lovable family who loves tea and people, wearing the same good ol' uniform, touting tea as the drink of choice and the expensive imported British food as totally worth it. When Jason and I went to celebrate our anniversary at that fancy restaurant, we were very impressed by the waiter and how well he fit the stereotypical role of fancy restaurant server. And suddenly, I've become one of those fancy restaurant servers! I'm that girl who cannot say the words "guys" to customers, who replies "Of course" to almost every request, and who, most importantly, manages to memorize the specials of the day and recite them in mouth watering ways so that people order these expensive meals and end up tipping me more, not because I provided wonderful service (which I'm sure I did), but because tip is generally expected to be 15% of their subtotal, and their subtotals are always huge! This makes me and my rapidly fattening wallet happy. At this rate, I think I can actually afford to buy meat when I start living on my own again. 10:24 am Thursday, July 15, 2004
Quality Time With Mum
Me and mum at the Hong Kong International Airport. I knew that my mother wouldn't start work for more than a week after we got back from our trip, but I had no idea how bored she'd be sitting at home with nothing to do. One of our cars is in the shop and the other one is with my dad while he's gone at work. I can get out if I need to, on foot or by bus, but since my mother has refused to use public transit since we left Toronto, she's stuck at home all day. Hanging out with me. She plopped herself down on the couch next to me while I was watching TV this morning. Italics = Cantonese Mum: What are you watching? Me: A Baby Story. Mum: Is that a real woman? Me: Yeah. Mum: What is she doing? Me: Giving birth. Mum: Is that a baby? Oh my god, it's a real baby! Coming out of that woman! Ai-ya! Me: (Thinking: You've given birth before, right?) Mother, relax. Too late. At this point, she's covered her eyes with her hands and buried her head in the pillows. Mum: Ewwww! Ahhhh! Shirley! Why are you watching this?? Ai-yaaaaa! Me: I think it's interesting! Mother, if it bothers you this much, stop watching it. Mum: Aiii-yaaaaaah! I hated being pregnant, giving birth was the worst part! Eeeewww! My daughter is so brave to be watching this! Aaaahhh! Me: Mother, just- stop- stop that. Mum: Ai-yah! So gross! Me: Sigh. She whined and writhed on the couch for the remainder of the show, giggling and squealing into the pillows with her eyes closed. Later this afternoon, she came into my room as I was working on my not-yet-finished-actually,-barely-started-but-still-due-tomorrow essay on the Yanomamo. She lies down on my bed and stretches. Stops. And just lays there. Me: Yeeess? Mum: Are you reading e-mail? Me: No. Mum: Hey, look at this. She shows me her foot. Me: What? Mum: When we were in Vietnam and I bought those shoes, the cloth strap gave me this bump and look, there's a little dent by my toe now. Right beside the nail. Me: Uh-huh. Mum: And look, I can poke it with this pin and I can't feel anything! Me: Mother! Mum: What? Look, I'm poking it right into the hole and there's no feeling! Me: That's disgusting. Get away from me! Mum: LookLookLook! Come on! It's funny! Me: Ewww!! Go away! She laughs and runs out of my room. Oh mother. 4:22 pm Wednesday, July 14, 2004
Couldn't Even Hear The Music Anymore
Oncoming traffic in Ho Chi Minh City. I've been to her place before, but my attention span wasn't big enough to take in all that she had to say. I end up at her place a lot when I'm bored and surfing blogs because she's linked by so many out there. She even won the Bloggie for Best Kept Secret Blog this year. Though, I do think that the secret is getting out, what with posts like this one that makes everyone mush inside, remembering how it feels to long for someone and only dream of saying it out loud. Or this one, just on how much that longing can ache. I'm lucky enough now to be with someone I love and who loves me back. I can wear their shirt to bed and their touch can make my entire body shiver. For me, the only longing there is can be fixed with a two hour bus ride, something that I am very grateful for now that I'm back in the same country. 7:15 pm Monday, July 12, 2004
The First In A Multiple Parts Series
A typical road in Bangkok. I am so glad to be home. Since Friday night when I stepped off that plane, I've been appreciating all the things that I love about living here, all the things that I didn't appreciate enough before I left. 1. Silence, and the sound of birds chirping. In Bangkok, Pattaya, Ho Chi Minh City and Saigon, there are unbelievable amounts of traffic. In Thailand, everyone and their dog owns a car and drives it into the already congested roads. Rush hour is every hour. In Vietnam, everyone and their dog owns 2 or 3 mopeds and drives them into the rule-free roads. It's a free for all out there. Crossing the road as a pedestrian is one of those extreme sports, wild and dangerous enough to sate the thrill seeking appetite of even the most thrill thirsty out there. All this traffic amounts to non-stop honking. I can't really understand why people honk so much when they drive. It's not like people actually get out of the driver's way; pedestrians still stand there, kids will run after their ball, and no, the car/moped in front of you will not move. Yet these people will always honk. Falling asleep at night is a task and waking up in the morning to beep-beep-beep, beeeeeeep, beep-beep, beeeeeeep-beep, or beeeeeeep-beep-beep does nothing but add to your grouchy disposition. The first thing I noticed was how quiet my neighbourhood is. And I could hear birds chirping! I've missed their song so. The only birds they have in Vietnam are the edible kind. They don't chirp. |
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