Hubby says to wife in a sad tone, “Darling, I will have to be in UK for two days next week”. Silence…. And then slowly a smile creeps onto wife’s face.
I love being home alone. My school mates thinks I am abnormal for wanting to be alone. Not that I don’t enjoy my husband’s company. I love being with Phil but then again, I do miss times just being with myself – the manicures (taking my own pace), facials (where I can walk around without scaring him), and not to mention my detox program where I can let out “air” as I wish. And also, the extra gossip session and shopping with school mates after school without having to rush home to prepare dinner.
Actually when I was younger, (well not that much, only about two years ago), I hated being alone. Only went to the cinema alone ONCE in my whole entire life and I hated the experience. Keep thinking that people were watching me instead of the movie. But now… now I enjoy time being with myself. Hmmm… I don’t know why. Have I suddenly been more anti-social? No I still enjoy being with people. Do I think more now so I need time alone to reflect on life? Thinking? What is that?
Whatever it is, I am glad that me wanting to have time alone is only temporary and after two nights, I am missing Philippe again. He is coming home tonight and I got him a rock for our 6 month’s anniversary…..

I was so confused over the sign on the door that I forgot to blog what happened on Saturday. So, Chef and Family were over for dinner on Saturday night.
“Again?” asked my friend from school when I told her what we were preparing for our invitees
and
“Again” was Phil’s response when I suggested our menu for dinner.
And
“What again, can’t you prepare something else?” remarked my cousin on MSN. It seems that each time we invite friends over for dinner, we have been preparing Steam Boat or more commonly know to our French friends as “Chinese Fondue”. Why not? We have a great time during the meal as we sit and fight over a piece of chicken or salmon at the start of the meal and then blame the other people for putting too much food at the end when there is too much leftovers cooking in the pot.

Chef is Phil’s boss and who also used to be my boss’s boss. My boss did not resigned but I did. Phil and I were working in the same company a few years back. He traveled to Singapore, where I was working then to train us on the product. That’s how we first met. Later that year, I came to Paris for work, that’s when Phil gave me a parting kiss on the lips at the airport, which left me wondering for the next few months on how far our love story will go. Once again I was confused (this is often the case), as we were not only 10,000km apart but also he was much senior than me. I recalled how I found out about his age, as we were in the car on the way to Versaille, he took out his passport to get access to his wallet to pay for the carpark. Being the busybody I am, I took a glanced at his passport, and it read 1963 on his date of birth. I sat dumb folded as I tried to calculate his age, and finally when I came around, realized that he was 14 years older than me. He did appear to be much older than me, but I had not realize that he would be that much older. So the next few months was a struggle to accept a man older than me, worlds apart from mine, who spoke very little English. Things proved to be relatively easy as Phil was determined to learn English to communicate with me while I could barely get pass the “Voulez vous couches avec moi cesoir” (which I had memorized from a song). And as we got to know each other more, the age gap was irrelevant. Before I knew it, I said “Oui” and obtained my “Mrs” title. This Friday, we celebrate our 6 months marriage anniversary.

Ah.. sorry I got a bit carried away with my love story, back to dinner with Chef and Family. Chef’s wife who is an excellent cook, brought over some “XXX” (ah… sorry for the triple XXX’s as I am can’t remember what’s its called but it is some what like a muffin). Well, it looks like a muffin, and taste like a muffin but I can assure you that I have been told many times by the French that things that look and taste like a muffin are not muffins. She gave us a box of XXX, which we finished the next day for breakfast. I felt a bit sinful finishing it all at one go but it was just too good to resist.

Although Chef and his wife spoke good English, we decided to have the evening in French as the previous evenings we shared together were all in English. It was also a great opportunity to show off my French (so I thought). It started off well as we conversed in French, however as the night progressed, with the little bit of wine in my system, I could comprehend everything said but found it hard to find words to express myself. Towards the end of the night, no one could understand me, nor could I. I was searching my entire brains for words but they just did not appear. I wish I could blame it on the alcohol but I only drank 2 small glasses. Although my French did not come out perfect, I had a lovely time the French way with Chinese Food.

As I choose to stay home on Monday, I decided to go on a Detox program. Detox, although one only eats fresh fruits and veges during a detox, it is not a diet to lose weight. It is done to get rid of those toxic accumulated in your body. I love detoxing as I get this booze of energy the next day - like when Popeye has his spinach … ah… the only down side is the air that I let out the other end does not smell so “perfumey”. If we had mosquitoes in the house, I am sure after they have a taste of my “err hmm” they will no longer be around. I will leave the details of the smell to your imagination. Yes, I know you sympathize with Philippe but he has a vow to keep, “till death to us part”…
I started the morning well, making fresh apple and carrot juice. Hmmm…yummy… by 11am I was again hungry, so I chopped up an apple, a pear and a peach mixed with yogurt – yummy too. By 1pm, I was hungry again, so I had a huge bowl of salad. Ahh… surviving well til about 4pm, when I had the sudden urge to eat again, I was just about to make myself some more fruit juice when the phone rang, ah.. it was little Cow from Australia…there goes my juice. As I sat and talked to her I could hear my stomach making funny noises. At the end of the conversation I had finish some potatoes. Well to be exact it was a whole can of Salt and Vinegar Pringles Chips. Errr… its still potatoes – I hope it counts to be part of the detox plan….

It is Monday and what is French up to today? On Strike... Today is Pentecost Monday and for centuries, today has been declared an official public holiday. In the wake of the deadly 2003 heat wave, President Jacques Chirac decided to turned Pentecost Monday into a normal working day to raise EUR 2 billion (USD 2.6 billion) for the aging. However, there has been a lot of protest surrounding this issue. Some claim that at the end of the day, the proceeds of today's work will not end up in the hands of those who desperately need it but contribute to the already wealthy politicians of Paris. Others believe that there are other methods of helping the aging instead of forcing people to work on a public holiday. It works something like forced donation, or tax as the French people are so accustomed to. Hence, some areas of the public sector are on strike, trying to reclaim their public holiday, and the French public transport being one of them.
So instead of being in a situation where I can be potentially "stuck" for hours waiting for a train, I have decided to spend the day at home. Philippe went to work and we are not too sure in which hands his “day’s salary” will end up in.
Welcome to FRANCE!....

Last night, when I arrived home, I notice the drawing on our apartment door missing! It was a drawing made by Philippe of a boy and girl holding hands in the grass field with the sun shining brightly and lots of hearts. At the bottom reads “P+Y” which represents Phil + Yin. And SOMEONE stole it! I was upset as it was something very precious to me. An hour ago, Philippe gently revealed to me that the drawing had been in fact missing for the past three weeks! “Quel Horror” as they say it in French, “What Horror!”… Welcome to my world! I have been coming home every day, not knowing that the drawing was missing and one day, just woke up and realized it is gone…. This is disturbing, I knew I was a bit “blur” and sometimes “blind” but did not realize that I was this blur… wow… this will remain a mystery to me of how I could walk in day in, day out and not notice it missing for 3 weeks…twilight zone….

When I first arrive in France, I lost my ability to unlock doors with a key. Suddenly the simple task of inserting the key into the keyhole was more of a chore to me. To enter my apartment building, one needs to insert the key into a keyhole. There was once an old lady behind me whom I offered to open the door for, decided to help me instead. She was a petite lady, who reminded me of a female version of Yoga in Starwars. Unlike me who was fumbling with the keys in the door, she calmly inserted her keys and turned the key effortlessly, opening the door for us. Slowly she turned towards me and gestured her hand for me to enter and even gave me a wink as we parted. It was then when I realized that in France, when the key is in the keyhole, one turns the key to your left. In Asia or the other countries I have lived in, the key is turned to your right. Thus my habits have inhibited me from doing a natural task. However, luckily I am human and have the natural ability to adapt (slowly).

Friends have been asking me if it is difficult to move to a country where the culture is different and you don’t speak the language. I think it difficult moving to any country (FULLSTOP). Different countries have different cultures, even if they are so close to each other – Take Malaysia and Singapore, it took me 6 months to get used to life in Singapore. Not speaking the language makes things difficult but once you learn and are able to communicate, the self-satisfaction is greater. So my first few months in France was like learning to open the door, I tried, failed, keep trying, got help along the way, learned and finally am able to do things on my own. And one day, when I am ready, I too in return will help foreigners open their doors.

French, if pronounced correctly and properly is so pleasing to the ears. The way I have been pronouncing French, is like scratching your finger nails on the black board (wah! Don’t believe what I just wrote, not that bad ah). Six weeks into French classes, the more I know the more I think I don’t know. I was put in level 3 of 6 (Intermediate level) when I started. How did I get to such an advanced stage? Well, those who received my e-mails would know that I cheated on the test. No I was not over looking someone’s shoulder. It so happened that I knew someone in the School who gave me a copy of the test. Phil helped me the night before and surprisingly (or not) I scored pretty well. You can imagine how the first few weeks of class was for me. Proud to say after the intense self-studying I am finally up to speed with the rest of my classmates.

Thinking back, I am not too sure how I cope at my in-laws place without Philippe. I was at their place a week before I started my French classes. Not only did I survive a week with them speaking no English, I actually enjoyed myself. They were lovely and very patient with my poor French. I was trying to explain to them about Chinese Preservatives (Chinese pickles - the one we eat with porridge) and said “Preservative”, only to realize after a good long laughter and the odd stare from my in-laws that Preservative in French means Condoms. They were wondering
why do Chinese people eat condoms with rice water.

A taste of French for you:

Je suis = I am
Pleine = full

I am full = (should rightfully be in French) Je suis pleine. I have learnt after a terrible laugh from people around the table to never say that as it means “ I am a pregnant cow”. Don’t ask me why I am still trying to figure it out.

Je t'aime = I love you
Bien = good

But when you put Je t'aime bien together it means “I appreciate you” – nothing to do with love at all.


Je suis = I am
Chaud = hot

I am hot = Je suis chaud. Another big NO NO, unless you want to the get odd stare, even if you are warm and dying from the heat of the sun. It means “I am sexually excited”

So.. for those who visited our site, will know that we have not been diligent about updating our site. *Shame on us!!*... So..what happened to the love story? After donating so much $$$$ (enough for us to be shareholders) to France Telecom and Malaysian Telecom, we finally got married. We are together (at last) living in Bretigny, a little "ville" (as they call it in French), 40 kms south east of Paris. I am not much of a writter, but will attempt to share my life and experiences living in France. After 7 months, I am finally able to call Paris my home. I have had a great time of "exploring" (as I am now an expert in getting myself lost) and "discovery" (discovering Paris and myself). So as my days here passes, I will try my best (no promises) to share with you my journey here in France......

A great show in Singapore ... The world famous star Yin is here ... Wow ...



No guitar for philippe ... Sigh ....

Da ya think I'm sexy ???? Said Yin

YEEEEEESSSSSSSS Said Phil...