Room With A View - San Marco, aka The Lighthouse

As I stood on the scales the other day it occurred to me that of all the, ahem, sacrifices we've been called on to make in order to leave our home and come to live in Singapore, perhaps the largest (and most rapidly expanding) has been my waistline. However, I've never been one to shirk my responsibilities, so purely in the interests of research, I found a new restaurant to try out last weekend with hubby. It's a tough job, but someones' got to do it.

San Marco is located on top of the Fullerton Hotel, down town on the river. The Fullerton is an iconic building in Singapore and was originally the General Post Office. It is an absolutely beautiful building and at night it looks stunning, bathed in light and reflected in the river. A pedestrian bridge links it with the opposite bank from where you can get a wonderful view. You can choose to either eat inside or on the terrace, although you do run the risk of being ogled by tourists as they walk along the river bank, which I think would be a little off-putting.

One of my favourite things about the Fullerton is the HUGE fresh flower arrangement they have on display in the main lobby. Each time we go we are stunned by the gorgeous display which is right at home in the opulent surroundings, which boast a towering atrium hung with chandeliers, large carp pools, waterfalls, and sweeping marble staircases. Living in Holland we always had fresh flowers in the house, as they are cheap, plentiful, and of excellent quality. In Singapore however they are a luxury item; too expensive for us to buy often plus between the heat and the rigours of air-conditioning they die very quickly. So I stand next to the huge bunch at the Fullerton, breathe deeply, and think of home instead.

We've tried the Saturday night buffet at the Fullerton before. However until last weekend we hadn't explored any of its other restaurants. San Marco is an Italian restaurant located on the roof. From the eighth floor you take a private lift to the restaurant which is on about the 10th floor I guess. Quite small with an intimate atmosphere, the 360 degree view of the city is simply stunning. It would be easy to rely on the view to bring in customers but fortunately the food was also superb. I won't bore you with the details but our starters (for me a warm sardine tart with a fabulously crispy base topped with a sundried tomato concoction, and hubby's lobster and crab stuffed cannelloni) were to die for.

To finish we opted for a cheese board and I have to say it is the BEST cheese board you will get in Singapore. It's worth going up there just for that. Honestly.

Topped off with great service from knowledgeable staff who took the time to discuss the food - and knew what they were talking about - it was an excellent meal. After we paid the bill we were about to head off when our waiter asked "would you like to take a look upstairs?".

Intrigued, we walked out into the warm night air, climbed a metal staircase, and were treated to a breath-taking view of the city - the photo above was taken up there. It was an unexpected treat which topped off a most enjoyable night. In fact I'd love to take a picnic up there some day. You may recognise the view if you watched the night time Formula 1 race as the cars whizzed past the hotel on the stretch of road you can see.

If you're looking for somewhere a bit special in the heart of the city, San Marco is definitely worth a visit. We'll be taking my Dad there when he passes through next week because this secret is just too good to keep to ourselves.

Getting A Creative Fix

Last week I did a silver and glass course which ran over two mornings at a place called Creative Escape. It's a shop house which has been converted into an artist's studio, and you can follow courses in everything from glass fusion, silver working and painting to paper making, quilting and everything in between.

Never having done anything remotely like this I wasn't terribly confident that I'd actually end up with anything I'd want to keep, let alone wear, but I have to admit I was pretty pleased with the result.

Creating cool pieces with glass fusion is ridiculously easy. You simply cut bits of coloured glass into pieces, layer them up on a base piece to make a nice pattern until the final result is 6 mm thick, then fire in a kiln. We returned the next day to work with the fired glass pieces by adding silver. This was way, way more difficult.

For this part we used silver clay which feels just like normal clay except of course it's quite pricey so you use as little of it as possible. It's incredibly fiddly trying to make small bits to go on jewellery and I'm not planning to do this again, although I'd definitely have another go at glass fusion. After you make your clay pieces you dry them briefly with a hair dryer, then fire them for a short time - only about 10 minutes - at 700 degrees. When you remove the pieces from teh kiln they are pure white, which is a little disconcerting. You then attack them with wire brushes and hey presto, the silver is hiding under the white outer layer.

Here you can see the final results: a rectangular piece with metalic green stripes on a black background, with silver threads wrapped over the top. I was trying to get an effect a bit like tree roots but a couple of them broke off as the silver is too thin.

The second piece is a metillic blue blob with gold flakes in the centre, cupped in what is supposed to be a silver leaf.

...And finally a simple pendant which I attached to a bezel I bought at the workshop as mine was way too ugly, then strung on a silver string I already had.

So there you go, if I can do it anyone can. Give it a go!

The Ting Tings - That's Not My Name

You know how sometimes you hear a song and you just love it so much you keep playing it over and over on you iPod until your ears bleed and you probably induce brain damage? Well that's how I feel about this track from The Ting Tings, 'That's Not My Name'. Best played at maximum volume, especially if you are working out. It's not a fantastic video, so I recommend letting it completely download before cranking up the volume and listening to it, and I bet you can't stop youreself jiggling along to it.
The fact that music like this exists is the only possible reason that I can even considering getting on the rowing machine for a 5km session. I think the decibels drown out the pain.

Eye Don't Get It

Hardly a day goes by when I don't take a moment to think about how great it is not to have to wear glasses or contact lenses any more. Since getting my eyes lasered (see this post) I'm free from the hassle, expense, and discomfort of eyewear. Which is why I totally fail to understand one of the fashion crazes sweeping through Singapore: people with perfect vision who wear glasses just for fun. Ironically Singapore has one of the highest rates of myopia (short-sightedness) in the world.
In an article in the Straits Times this month Jocelyn Lee examined the odd fashion trend, asking whether these people - mostly aged between 15 and 25 - are being funky or fashion victims. Apparently the preppy geek look is in and the trend which started in London has spread to Hong Kong, Japan and Taiwan. Some optical shops in Sigapore now important large, thick-rimmed glasses to meet demand. They cost on average $30 - $90, including non-prescription lenses.
One student when interviewed said that the huge lenses of her thick-rimmed specs get foggy whenever she has hot food or drinks but said "I will continue to wear them as they make me look more outstanding in photos".
I can promise you that this is a trend I won't be following.

Bigfoot

Life’s full of little surprises and a couple of days ago Niels decided to spring one on me just as I was trying to shoo the kids into the lift to catch the school bus. Seeing his gym bag ready to go must have jolted his still sleepy brain because out of the blue he announced: “My gym shoes don’t fit and if I have to wear bare feet I’m not allowed to do gym!”
The way his voice got faster and rose in pitch was some indication of the panic sweeping over him: for Niels to have to sit out his gym class would be worse than going the whole day without food. He LOVES gym, and anything involving physical activity. It’s truly hard to believe he came from the womb of a woman who detests sports with an equal passion. For me, even pelvic floor exercises constitute a work out. I hate to get all hot and sweaty – the only sports I’ve ever had classes for were swimming and aqua aerobics, because if you sweat in the water you can’t tell.
So here we were, with 30 seconds before the bus is due to arrive and Niels is telling me that the gym shoes I bought him just FOUR WEEKS AGO apparently no longer fit and we have a major crisis on our hands. How can he grow a whole shoe size in one month?
He clearly doesn’t understand the vital role that coffee plays in Mummy’s life or he wouldn’t have timed this before my first cup. If he’d told me yesterday I could have gotten new shoes but no, it had to be at 7:58 and is that the bus I hear driving up??? Had the day finally arrived when hubby would get home, ask where Niels was and I’d have to admit I’d thrown him down the rubbish shute?
I grabbed one of Niels feet and shoved it into a gym shoe without a sock on.
“Does that fit better now?”
“Yeah…”
“Right. Problem solved. Get on the bus.”

Crisis averted. Time for that coffee.

Night Safari - Hot Stuff!

As I think I've mentioned before, we anticipate that we will be leaving Singapore fairly soon. In the mean time we've decided to go back to all of our favourite places at least one more time. Shortly after we arrived over two years ago we took the kids to the Night Safari, which is basically a night-time zoo experience with a twist. Many animals are much more active at night than during the day so you see a different side to nature: the wolves are howling, the lions slouching around, the hyenas scitter under the trees with their crazy grins showing glemaing white teeth in the dim light. The safari is conducted in open sided electric trams which take you silently through what feels and sounds like dense jungle. A very cool part of this expereince is that many animals - thankfully only the herbivores! - are let loose to roam freely and graze on the grass and fodder provided alongside the road, so antelope, deer, tapirs, wild pigs, and all sorts of other creatures cross the road and snuffle around within a couple of metres with no fence between you and them.

There are also a couple of shows provided on the evening, and the attached video clip is of the fire breathers who kept us riveted as we ate dinner outside. I've never seen someone able to breath fire for so long - what happens if he gets the hiccups??

Beast of Burden

What can I say. The poor guy has only been home about 30 seconds - note he still has on his shoes and his sunglasses - and he has to give horsey rides to the kids. Can you hear his knees crunching painfully on the marble floor??

Here's an idea, tonight when he comes home I'll see if he'll give me a horsey ride!

Now where's my riding crop...

And You Thought Your Parents Were Pushy???

...in that case you didn't read the article by Jamie Ee Wen Wei headed A match made in Hong Lim Park? in the Sept 7 Sunday Times.

Apparently Prime Minister Lee Hseing Loong announced during his National Day Rally speech on Aug 17 that parents should get more involved in finding suitable mates for their children. Jackiey Kew (33) and Lydia Gan (34) were not slow on the uptake and promptly launched a dating service called Clique Wise to help out mums and dads keen to matchmake their still-single adult children. About 50 parents were expected to turn up to their first parental-matchmaking session, during which they exchanged photos and biodata about their children.

Ms Gan (who is still single) said: "True, there will be people who will be scared that their parents will pick the wrong person for them. But parents will want the best for their kids".

Mr Kwek, (who is married) agrees that "there may be some sceptism but insists the event is not about arranged marriages. He hopes the parents, too, will not rush things. "We'll tell them it does not mean that after their children come for the event, they'll get married the next day."

Glad to hear it.

Getting It Together

I’ve had such an awesome day getting totally organised. This may not sound like a lot of fun to many but I HATE clutter, although my nearest and dearest will, I’m sure, be quick to point out that this doesn’t mean the place won’t descend into a state of near chaos before I’m moved to tidy up. However as we’ll be leaving Singapore in the not-too-distant future I’m going through the cupboards and tidying up/chucking away/re-homing stuff we don’t need.

A couple of days ago I found the PERFECT shop for anyone like me. Howards Storage World was mentioned in a magazine I read recently as having ideal storage ideas for hand bags. Well that got my bells ringing so off I trotted to Harbourfront, a hitherto unexplored shopping mall on the southern coast, near the Sentosa Gateway. This place has storage ideas for all those little bits and pieces we accumulate and desperately need but just can’t keep tidy. Think shoes, handbags, makeup, out of season clothes, books…and don’t even start me on the kitchen ware section.

Now I have a collection of handbags which, while modest in size to my way of thinking, threatens nevertheless to take over the entire wardrobe. The solution? This handy plastic double sided hanger which stores 14 handbags. And yes, I only needed one. The hanging shoe organisers next to it in the photo is actually from Ikea, although Howards sells a similar line.




On to the make up, which used to be stored in a wooden tray (also from Ikea) which was probably originally intended for cutlery. Now it’s all nestled comfortably in a compact acrylic tray, easy to find and on-hand when I need it.
By now you're all probably shaking your heads wondering how anal someone can be and still lead a normal life but hey, it works for me!

Din Tai Fung, For A Dimple In Your Dumpling

For ages I've been meaning to write about one of my all-time favourite eating places, Din Tai Fung. This is a chain of Chinese dumpling restaurants which started in Mainland China, spread to Taiwan, and is now in Japan, the US, Singapore,Indonesia, Australia, and Korea. It's probably going to be coming to where you live soon if you're not in one of those. (If you're really intrested they have a long, long story about it all on their website ).

Although famous for their dumplings they also serve a delicious array of sieuw mai (steam minced pork in pastry topped with a prawn), fantastic fried rice, noodles, and other traditional Chinese dishes. Everything has been simplified to a certain degree and because it's steamed, it's lean and healthy. The food is prepared by an army of white clothed, face-mask wearing cooks in two kitchens with glass walls and half the fun is watching the incredible speed and precision with which they make the food.

The chain leapt to world prominence in 1993 when The New York Times voted it one of the top 10 restaruants in the world. Every item on the menu is hand mande. The signature dish is Xiao Long Bao which are small balls of minced spiced pork nestled inside a soft pastry case topped with no less than 18 pleats. The little dumpling is infused with a hot broth then steamed until piping hot and served to you, as are all their steamed dishes, in the traditional bamboo basket. Watch out for the hot broth inside! Once they've cooled down a little you can sink your teeth into this fabulous little parcel of pleasure and believe me, you'll be a convert. This is the standard to which all other dim sum must now aspire.

If I'm in town with Carl I occasionally take him to the outlet at Paragon because he loves the place. He stuffs himself silly on Xiao Long Bao and their special rice which is mixed with egg and chives and topped wth steamed, peeled prawns. Despite its reputation the place is not at all pretentious: the average time for a meal is 40 minutes, they don't take bookings, and the service is rapid but friendly.

Once you've made your selection from the menu, which helpfully includes photos of all the dishes, you use the pen and form provided to tick which dishes you want to have. Your order is whisked away, entered into a computer, then returned to you and as each dish arrives - usually about 6-7 minutes apart - the serving staff cross them off the list. Green tea is served throughout the meal and when you are finished you simply take your list up to the cashier and pay. Couldn't be easier, or tastier!

Din Tai Fung has five outlets in Singapore so get to one soon and try it out, you won't regret it.

And yes, next time I'm there I will take a photo of the 18-pleat dumplings just to prove that they really do exist and are as perfect as I say!

Vending Machine Fever

Nowhere else in the world have I ever seen toy vending machines like I have in Singapore. Perhaps there are plenty of places that have these things and I’ve never noticed, but with two young kids we rarely fail to see the rows and rows of coin operated machines which spew forth toys inside plastic balls. For between $1 and $6 you can turn the handle and collect a surprise toy. Invariably the boys really want to have just one of the range of six or so inside each machine, and as Murphy’s Law applies as much on the equator as anywhere else, you can pretty much guarantee that the one they get is NOT that one.
Happily my lot aren’t too fussy. Movie theatres in particularly seem to specialise in these, and at Cathay Cineleisure, which is where we go for most of our kids movies, there are literally hundreds of these things. It’s a good way to fill in 15 minutes if you‘re early for a film because the kids can easily spend that much time peering at the pictures on the outside before making their final selection. Oddly there is also a huge stack of them outside Toys R Us in Paragon. Because obviously after ploughing their way through 10,000 different toys in the store what parents really want when they stagger out past the till with their wallets almost empty is to pour all their remaining change into one of these machines to buy....more toys!

Kinokinuya – Bookstore in the Twilight Zone

One of life’s truly wonderful pleasures is browsing in a bookstore. I’ve never met anybody who doesn’t enjoy losing themselves among shelves of books and even if you don’t end up buying anything, you never leave without the satisfyingly full feeling of having sated your appetite. It’s like visiting a sweet store where you’re allowed to taste all the merchandise, then leave without actually buying anything and still have the storekeeper smile and say “thanks for dropping by!”

Without the calories.
I have two favourite bookshops in Singapore, although I’m the first to admit that I haven’t looked that extensively since I just love these two so much and they are nearby on Orchard Road. The first of course is Borders, which I was excited to find on our first house-hunting mission here. You may think I’m easily pleased (and what’s wrong with that?!) but remember, I lived in a small Dutch village for 12 years before arriving here so any building filled with a million books all written in English is going to get my engine revving. Yes, I know it’s kind of a generic train station for popular books but hey, the kids section is huge, the magazine section is filled with journals I’ve never seen before, and the local section is well stocked with everything from historical tomes to the latest Sing-fiction. Actually it was while trying to locate a newly published book of short stories by local authors that I discovered a typically Singaporean quirk: the plastic wrapped book. We’ve all seen the wrapped up issues of Playboy etc in gas stations, but half the books deemed indecent in the sealed section in Singapore are considered mainstream in any Western country. Nothing makes you feel quite so much like a pervert as standing in line at Borders, idling staring into space, then realising everybody else is staring at you because all the books you’re buying are sealed in plastic! I can just hear them thinking “Kinky ang moh lady, no can read books in plastic, so rude lah”.
My ultimate favourite shop is Kinokuniya (try saying that quickly three times), located on the fourth floor of Takishimaya (there’s another one!) shopping centre. It’s unbelievably well-stocked with towering shelves of every kind of book you can think of. The manga section is incredible; hordes of pubescent kids poring over the latest issues of these graphic novels prove there’s a huge market for it. The kids section is even better than Borders in my opinion, with a much more extensive young readers reference section. I was looking for some new bedtime books to read the kids: they wanted the novels for the movies Walle and Star Wars – the Clone Wars. I also found some classics they will love: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (good old CS Lewis!), The Railway Children by E Nesbit and finally The Tale of Troy by Roger L Green which is bound to be a hit with Niels.

They also have the fantastic Book Web: an internet system that allows you to search for any book in their stores by title, author, or ISBN (either from your home pc or in the shop), locate it on the shelves and print out a map to find it if necessary.

The only slightly annoying thing about Kinokuniya is that I am constantly getting lost in there. It’s like a Tardis in that when you walk in you think you can see most of the shop and find your way out again but the longer you spend in there the bigger it gets and the more twists and turns the aisles take. This time I ended up getting lost in the maps corner, got confused in the Globes Display and then got stuck in a reference section on how to improve your English. They certainly take that subject seriously in Singapore where Singlish reigns and the government encourages people to improve their skills with books with titles such as English As It Is Broke. Floundering through the French and German books I had a fraught sensation of déjà vu before bursting out, gasping for breath into the realm of Culinary Pleasures. Heart beat returning to normal I picked up a copy of 1421 – The Year China Discovered The World before finally spotting a cashier. With my discount card wilting in my sweaty palm I paid for what by now had gown to a huge pile of books then made three circuits of the stationary annex before centrifugal force propelled me out an exit. Freedom!

Still, I know I’ll be back soon because there are few places I’d rather be lost than in Kinokuniya. And besides, by now the security guy is used to me and seems to give me a rather sympathetic smile as he waves goodbye. Or maybe it's the sealed books poking out of the carrier bag he's leering at...

Singapore Air Force Open Day

Yesterday the Singapore Air Force held it's annual open day, an event which was celebrated with more than the usual glee as it is the institutions 40th anniversary.

There's nothing like a collection of high powered weaponry to kick off your birthday celebrations so the event was, as Niels declared, "AWESOME!!!!!".

Having visted more than my fair share of military museums and displays since we've lived here - the State loves to promote its mighty defences and show the locals exactly what they're spending their billioins on - I bowed out of this one and allowed hubby to take the kids along. Ready for a big day, they set off early because if there's one thing you learn from living on a small island with 4.6 million other people, it's that getting to things early means you avoid most of the crushing crowds that turn up later on. Singaporeans are not keen on getting out of bed early on Sundays, probably because they work so damn hard for the rest of the week plus because the shops don't open until 10:30am every day.

So what was the boys favourite part? Well, after hearing all about how amazing it was, I'd say it would be a close tie between sitting in the cockpit of an F16 jet fighter, pulling the trigger on a HUGE machine gun mounted on an Apache attack helicopter (just look at Niels face in the photo on the left!), or playing with the flight simulators - surely the world's most expensive video games.

As if that wasn't enough they got to crawl inside helicopters and sit in the cockpit of a training plane. Plus of course there was hardware parked or flying everywhere, from huge transport planes to Chinook helicopters thump-thump-thump-thumping overhead.

Hubby's favourite part was probably either successfully navigating through the show without losing either child, or managing to extract them both from the flight simulators without either throwing a major hissy fit and announcing they would rather actually live there than return home.

Mind you, even Daddy couldn't resist the toy stand and Niels came back with a collection of cardboard model jet fighters to assemble, while Carl had chosen a transporter plane. Finally, hot, sweaty, and running dangerously low on peanut butter sandwiches, the three intrepid adverturors returned home.

The kids were given enough tattoos of planes to keep their skin decorated for a month, plus post-it note style pads emblazoned with the logo of the Singapore Air Force: Generate and Sustain. Hang on, I thought their job was to hunt things down and blow shit up?? That logo sounds more appropriate for a vegetable farm.

Software trauma

Goddamn, I spent FOUR HOURS tonight trying to update our Norton anti-virus software. Having taken my money in about 60 seconds flat my new subscription then failed to upload. I was about 5 seconds away from heaving my laptop out the window when I was offered the option of on-line chat with a member of the Norton support staff. Jeswin (is that a guy or a girl?) finally sorted out the problem and I was able to collapse on the sofa, gin and tonic in hand, to join hubby in watching Goodbye Pork Pie to relax.
Sometimes I hate computers.

What...No Toys???

Tonight we enjoyed a really nice bar-b-q at our friends place down the road, the ones who live in the cool new pent-house apartment which we would have walked to if it hadn't been HOSING down all evening. Normally when we go out at night we get a babysitter to hopefully get the kids into bed on time, but tonight we thought we'd take them along. The bbq was starting early, about 4pm, and we could be home at a reasonable time so we thought sure, what harm could it do?
An added bonus was that we all went to Wild Wild Wet this morning which is a water adventure park kind of like Waterbom but about a third of the size. It's fun, the kids loved the slides, the wave pool, the groovy water playground, and we got back in the car just as the heavens opened and rain of biblical proportions descended upon us. So they were tired.
In my limited experience as a mother of two incredibly active kids, the key to stopping them turning a freinds lounge into a wrestling ring or using every cushion in their house to make a fort in the middle of the terrace is to bring along a) a pile of their favourite books b)a pile of their favourite toys c) a pile of paper and pens although if you are visiting chic pent house apartments the probability of getting ink on furnishings is so great as to outweigh any potential benefits, so we didn't bring those. Anyway I had a secret weapon hidden in my handbag: not one, but TWO new DVD movies. The first is a classic I fondly remember from my childhood, Clash of the Titans. This is the original monster flick with plastercine monsters and hand-coloured scenes. Brilliant. The second was Pirates of the Carribean which is a sure fire winner with any little boys.
So the bbq was progressing well except for...did I mention the rain? It's the tail end of a cyclone which just hammered the Philippines so was pretty impressive even by tropical standards.
As the Singapore skyline disappeared behind sheets of water we took the only reasonable course of action: battoned the hatches, closed all the doors and windows, and left my friends hubby out on the balcony to char the sausages on his own! Well, we did pass him a beer every now and then.
Halfway through the second movie, Carl goes up to my friend and tugs on her sleeve. Giving his best puppy dog impression he asked "where are your toys?"
"My what?
"Your TOYS. Where are they?"
Consternation all around as this is not a household with kids. "Ummm...we don't actually have any".
Carl looks at her as if she is a bit slow and says a bit more loudly "I said, where are your TOYS?"
"I'm sorry, we really don't have any toys".

The look on his face said a thousand words. No toys???? How is that humanly possible?
With a big sigh he slouched back to the sofa to watch the rest of the new movie, at the end of a fun packed adventurous day, with a tummy full of food which had just been cooked for him, obviously thinking to himself "do I have to organise everything for myself around here?"

New chef at Blu hits the spot

A few months ago when my Dad passed through Singapore on his way to several months of wallowing in the balmy climes of Southern France, we took him out for a meal to our favourite restaurant, Blu at the Shangri La Hotel. We were a little disturbed to learn that the chef who had so long titillated our tastebuds has moved to The Line restaurant, also part of Shangri La.
New Chef Kevin Cherkas popped out for a chat and proved to be a very enthusiastic and friendly guy, bursting with enthusiasm and eager to share his vision of how the cuisine would evolve under his leadership. He was at that time awaiting $1 million of new dinnerware to arrive which apparently was essential to appropriately present his food. Yes, that's one MILLION dollars worth of plates. Gulp.
This Saturday we headed back, curious as to what we would find now that he's had a chance to settle into Blu, re-shape the menu and put his new plates through the dishwasher a few times. We weren't disappointed.
Perhaps we had given the impression we were under-cover food critics on our first visit after asking so many questions but in any case as we waited for the entrees to arrive Kevin himself appeared at the table and apologised for not being able to deliver the dish hubby and I had ordered, cheekily called 'The Egg Came 1st". Apparently the sous chef had overcooked the eggs. Kevin assured us that if it hadn't been us waiting for them he would have sent them out anyway, but in deference to us he had thrown them across the kitchen then come out to offer us an alternative. He had some delicious fresh Scottish scallops - would we perhaps like those instead? Would we ever! I LOVE scallops and haven't had the pleasure of eating any Scottish Loch scallops (known as Queen scallops) since a wonderful meal we enjoyed in Glasgow a few years ago at The Ubiquitous Chip restaurant. Kevin chose to present them sliced through the middle, dusted with herbed crumbs and then quickly deepfried until just cooked. Interestingly he paired them with a beetroot sauce and by way of apology, liberally dotted the edge of the plates with caviar. Apology accepted.
On to the mains, and here hubby and I diverged as he plumped for the roast lamb while I chose Irish Stew which promised to be fabulous despite it's humble origins. It had apparently been cooked 'forever'. Again Kevin was there to explain the dishes and I loved the large rib bone poked into the stew, his "Flinestone touch". It was as rich and tender as I had hoped, and in fact could have been eaten with a spoon, so soft was the meat. Hubby did his best to make me jealous by raving about the fabulous lamb but as I said, it's a good excuse to go back soon.
Our dining guests loved their lobster thermidor and baked Sea Bass, which were accompanied by light-as-air foams, a quirky touch to otherwise classic dishes.
Dessert was 'Lemon vs Lemon' which was deliciously tart; not being a dessert person I love anything a bit sour and this hit the spot.
To sum it up Blu remains our favourite restaurant and we are now avowed Kevin fans. If you're looking for an exceptional meal at a great location, Blu is where you'll find it. And yes, the plates are lovely.

That Shirt, Part 2

So I was going to tell you about my birthing shirt, and got distracted by my ‘enjoy’ shirt. It was actually a more important story from my life but I really did want to tell you about the birthing shirt, so here goes.
As a woman approaches the ninth month of pregnancy she becomes obsessed with things that those who have never gone through the experience – and especially men - would never dream of. In my anti-natal class the instructor had told us to make sure we had a comfortable shirt to wear during the birth. It should be loose and comfortable, long enough protect our modesty in the early stages, yet provide easy access to the vital bits when the action hotted up. Logically you would just pick your favourite t-shirt or not bother about wearing anything at all, but frankly that’s just not me and logic rarely applied past the 37th week. Oh no. If I have to go through a major experience whether it’s giving birth or going on holiday to a new location I research it to death and obsess about the detail. So I trawled through various shops until I ventured into a lingerie retailer in Lochem that sold a good line of night shirts. I picked out the perfect one: loose fitting, short, in a practical dark blue (won’t show blood stains!) and with a tiny cute silver angel printed on the chest. Just what I wanted. It went into ‘The Bag’ in preparation for ‘The Day’.
My preparations continued, including exhaustive reading and re-reading of what was considered the authoritative book on giving birth, and practising all of the fifteen different stages of labour. I felt prepared, calm, only mildly hysterical. The due date arrived, although I wasn’t too concerned as only 5% of babies arrived on the actual date and most first babies arrive later. How wrong I was.
I won’t bore you with the story of how Niels was born because I know how much you desperately don’t want to know about it, but it did involve us racing to the hospital early in the morning. Friends later said it that when they entered our flat that day it was like a spooky sci-fi film where everybody has been vaporised: a piece of toast with one bite out of it rested on the bench, two half-cups of coffee stood cold and congealed nearby…
At the hospital the decision was made to induce labour. Before I knew it I had a drip in my arm and drugs were being pumped into me to bring on contractions. The nurse left the room to let us ‘get on with it’ and I suddenly realised: I don’t have my birthing shirt on! At that moment it seemed (to me) humanly impossible to give birth without having the correct attire.
“Quick, open The Bag and get out The Shirt!” I ordered hubby. Only then did we realise that because I was already hooked up to a drip, I couldn’t get my current clothes off, let along any new ones on. Believe me the last thing you want to be wearing when you are giving birth is a bra so there I was, the t-shirt and bra I’d quickly pulled on that morning pulled over my head and hanging pathetically from my wrist above the drip, my body exposed for all to see. Did I give a shit? Did I hell! A 40 piece brass band could have marched through the room and I wouldn’t have blinked an eye.
As the drugs pumped into my body contractions kicked in with a suddenness and severity that literally took my breath away. “Give me The Book!” I shrieked at hubby but it seemed we’d gone from chapter one to chapter 14 in less than ten minutes and I threw it in despair into a corner. A belt around my waist hooked to a monitor was supposed to transmit signals to indicate when I was having a contraction, but it had slipped down without anybody noticing and as I groaned in agony hubby calmly consulted the screen then announced “that’s not a contraction, it didn’t even register”. My snarled explosive response can’t be repeated here without me being kicked off Blogspot but let’s just say I was less than impressed by him.
Four short hours later Niels entered the world and I – white, shaking, in shock and completely pain-killer and drug free (this is Holland after all) - held him in my arms for the first time.
A few weeks later I was looking for something to wear to bed and I came across my Birthing Shirt. Better late than never I guess.

That Shirt, Part 1

Rummaging through my ‘smalls’ drawer tonight (isn’t that a great expression? It must date back to my grandmothers’ time, or at least until before I had kids because frankly what used to be small in there, ‘aint so small anymore!) I found what I was hunting for. It’s my favourite nightshirt which in fact I call my Birthing Shirt. Doesn’t the name alone make you shudder?? And you don’t’ even know the story behind it, although you may think you do…
Long, long ago when I was pregnant with our first child, I had more than a little trouble getting to grips with the fact that I was going to have a baby. Yes, it was planned, and yes, I’d been married for several years but frankly I’m just not mother material. Never have been. I don’t lack compassionate attributes: in my lifetime I’ve had pet guinea pigs, axolotls (that’s a Mexican Walking Fish to you), eels, rats, sheep, cows, rabbits and even a horse. However until I met hubby the thought of actually going through the whole human reproductive process was unimaginable and frankly, more than a little repugnant. Yet there I was at 30 years old, with a husband whose biological clock ticked louder than Big Ben, and the realisation that it was Time. I went off the pill and hoped for the year that friends had rumoured it takes for conception to take place but damn! Within a couple of weeks I was peeing on a plastic stick and that terrifying blue cross was as clear as the North Star. I’d been knocked up. Hubby was thrilled and I was petrified. Logical really, he wasn’t the one who would have his body taken over by an alien and then have to eject the thing with as much gore and screaming as Sigourney Weaver in her memorable movie role. At four months pregnant, I decided matters needed to be taken into hand. This state of affairs was not going to ruin my life. I took myself into hand, gave myself a figurative slap in the face (or three) and told myself that this was a good thing, this is what we wanted. We were a family, and by God I would learn to enjoy it. I went out that very day and bought myself a shirt from a preggy shop which I have to this very day. It’s dark blue and in hot pink across the front is the word ‘enjoy’. I remember putting it on the next morning and driving to work. When I walked into the lobby through the revolving doors the sun shone down and I said to myself “you will enjoy this if it kills you”. And honest to God, literally from that second onwards, I loved being pregnant. It was the most profound way I have ever forced myself to change, and it happened with a day. I often think of that moment and draw on that experience because I now believe it to be one of the most profound of my life. If I could transform myself from a frightened, reluctant, overwhelmed pregnant person into a confident, joyous, mother-to-be in a day, I could do anything.

Loction, location, location...

I’m sitting here in the sultry summer evening heat grateful for the gradual and yet wonderful relief of the day cooling off. WHAT??? I hear you all shriek; the woman who has long vowed she never wants to see another winter again is complaining about the heat…in EUROPE??
Well, yes, but to be fair it has been ridiculously hot here. When we arrived last week, our plane touched down in Amsterdam to a frigid 13 degrees with soaking rains and leaden skies. The kids shivered their way to the waiting taxi, then shivered all night in bed despite the central heating being cranked up to 25 degrees. Welcome to summer in Holland. Yet within 48 hours the tables had turned and it was a sweltering 30 degrees with humidity which must have been in the high 80s. Now I know that’s normal in Singapore, and we are acclimatised to those temperatures, but the difference is that at night you can retreat to your condo and turn on the air-con. Here there’s no such luxury. Bedrooms heated to sauna equivalent remain that way until the sun rises and then heats them even further the next morning. And the sun doesn’t hold it’s regular 7:30 rise, 7:30 set pattern we’ve become accustomed to in the tropics; it hangs, bloated and sweating, in the stale over-heated haze until 10 pm before deigning to finally slouch its way below the horizon, only to leap back to bake the bricks again at 5:30 am. Acclimatising. It takes time. In the last month the kids and I have lived in three time zones and three different climates - New Zealand, Singapore, and Holland – and obviously it’s taking its toll. At least on me. I love the long dusks and early dawns, I just can’t get over the tiredness to enjoy it yet. The mother of one of my friends spotted me in the supermarket a couple of days ago but didn’t dare come to say hello because I looked too stressed and the kids were playing hell in the isles. Coping? Like hell.

The Waiting Game

...So we're all packed, ready to leave for the airport later this evening (late flight at 11pm). Just before we ducked out to Newton Circus for a last nosh of satay and fried rice, I had a feeling I ought to check our departure time in case anything has changed. I NEVER do this normally, in the past I've used the Changi airport site only for checking whether our visitors are arriving on time.
Shock horror, our flight has been moved from 10:55 pm to 04:50! That's tomorrow morning!
So now it's going to be either a very long sleepless night as I toss and turn stewing in fear that I sleep through the alarm at 2:30 am, or a very short night when I won't even bother going to bed.
Bugger bugger bugger. Dragging the kids out of their nests at 2:30 am isn't going to be much fun either.
However it all pans out you'll all get to hear about it later, when I log on in Holland from someone's computer. Either way you can be sure that my already lowly opinion of KLM is not going to be improved.

See you on the flip side. Jetlag, here we come.

Beautiful Ladies

It seems that our youngest son has developed a bit of a thing for Asian ladies since we moved to Singapore. Actually he's always been a ladies man, charming them with his smile from a young age and preferring to snuggle up to a (preferably well-endowed) bosom rather than tag along with the guys.

The delight on his face when he arrived at pre-school four days a week was a picture; ignoring the blonde Dutch staff he would rush up to Sarah, his beloved Singaporean teacher, and give her a big cuddle. Every single day without fail he would tell her that something about her was beautiful; from "you've got beautiful toe nails today" to "you've got beautiful hair". During our weekly visits to the large Maplewoods condominium for Niels swimming lessons he would home in on a group of Philippino maids clustered around the pool and plop himself in the middle, which would without fail dissolve into giggles and he would bathe in the glow of admiration and head pats his cubby blonde smiling face would generate.

Our wonderful babysitter Fe has become known as "my Fe", the staff at our holiday villa in Bali were wrapped around his pinky within 24 hours, and even the Asian Mums of some of his class mates are the target of his ample affections. However his all-time favourite Asian Ladies would have to be the air hostesses on board the Singapore Airlines planes. Of course they are lovely, with their long traditional batik dresses and slim figures, perfect make up and shiny black hair. To Carl, they are perfection personified and on our recent trip to New Zealand it was all he could do to remain sitting until the 'fasten seat belt' sign was turned off before he scooted out of his chair, yelling over his shoulder "I'm going to talk to the beautiful ladies" as he disappeared in the direction of the pantry. Fifteen minutes later he reappeared with pink cheeks and a handful of cookies. Half an hour later this was repeated, and so the flight progressed. On one occassion he reappeared just moments after he'd left; when I asked him why he replied dismissively "there's only guys back there now" before focusing his attention on the tv screen. As dinner was served one particularly pretty hostess gave him a big wink and a grin - Carl turned to me and whispered dramatically "that's the one I kissed".

Somehow I don't think it's just cookies he's after.

Birthdays? Nothing To 'Em!

There are many good things about getting older. Speaking strictly from my personal experience it seems that surviving your crazy teens and reckless twenties frees you up to enjoy your thirties and everything after that with a wealth of wisdom and, well, wealth, that you just didn't have back then. Your confidence is better, self esteem higher, sex more passionate, joke repertoire fuller. You've traded the tequila slammers for Tanqueray and tonic, Maybelline for Dior and finally start to reap the benefits of slapping on sun block for all those years. Ok, the face is starting to show a few wrinkles but by now I know my PHA from my Pro Vit B5 extracts and frankly the new range of serums are better than botox. And as for later...well there's always going to be Botox, isn't there?

Making it into my thirties relatively intact means that my kids are now toilet trained, so although occasionally one of their rooms may look like a vomi-bomb has just exploded (see yesterdays post), I no longer have to deal with someone else's poo on a daily basis. They can both run around so even if my back aches sometimes, at least I don't have to carry them any more. Having survived the first tough years of motherhood I also don't feel guilty about indulging in a weekly massage from my favourite masseur Grace, who can produce diamonds from lumps of coal using only the fingers of her left hand. In your thirties it's perfectly normal to have a handbag for every occasion, as well as several that may look identical to the untrained eye but are each essential wardrobe items and indispensible in their own way. And while I could tell the scantily clad 20 year olds hanging out on Orchard Road that the line between looking like a sexy siren or a slut can be defined within a few heavy handed applications of black eye make up, they'll find out themselves in a few years and think back "if I only I knew then what I know now...".

By your thirties you have the fortitude to say no to a job offer, something unthinkable in your twenties; you have good friends you can turn to for advice; and most importantly you have a life partner with whom you can make the tough decisions and look back and see how previous choices have worked out. And on days like your birthday, not only do they know your favourite brands, they have the means to splurge on you a little and make things like jet lag totally disappear for a few hours.

Back To Reality

It's an overcast morning in Singapore and as I write this, at 9:04 am, I'm trying to convince my eyelids to stay up and my brain to function through a fog of jet lag and sleep deprivation. The boys and I flew back from New Zealand yesterday, after a short week-long visit to see my grandmother (hi Nana!) before we head back to the Netherlands shortly.The first day back is always a strange day filled with feelings of displacement; it's hard to fully focus on life hear when half of your brain (and all of your internal body clock) is still focused over there.

People are often very sympathetic when they hear the boys and I are off to fly somewhere without their Dad - visions of nightmarish global treks with two screaming kids wrecking havoc on a plane filled with cursing vengeful passengers simmer just below the surface. But actually it's not that bad. I've flown 'solo' with them quite a few times; Niels first trip abroad was an oestrogen-charged trip to New York with three girlfriends when he was just five months old. Think Sex In The City with more boobs (that was me breastfeeding) and no sex. It was a great trip which Niels sadly remembers nothing of. One of my favourite memories is all five of us falling asleep on the grass in Central Park, thoroughly worn out by fun and one little baby.

Admittedly yesterdays trip had its trials. There's the old chestnut of who gets to sit by the window, how to stop a kid kicking the chair in front when their legs don't reach the foot rest so naturally just swing back and forwards, and the endless, constant, never ending retrieval of toys dropped on the floor into that dark fetid place between the life jackets which smells of feet and impending doom. Somehow growling "get it yourself" doesn't sound threatening over the roar of a 747's jet engines.

As for the kids meals, don't even get me started! Lunch turned up with a large roll of wine gum sweets, a chocolate pudding, and a bar of chocolate. Dinner was accompanied by a mini Mars bar and a Twix bar, plus the obligatory pudding. Hello, doesn't anyone planning airline meals know the effect of filling kids up with sugar then asking them to sit still for an 11 hour flight?? It's a wonder they didn't burst out of the plane like Coca Cola from a shaken can by the time we landed. At least it wasn't as bad as the last time we flew to Holland on KLM, one of the worst airlines we fly on; the kids meal was a full size Mars bar, a limp sandwich, and hot soup!!

We finally landed last night and the kids bounced up to the Dad full of enthusiasm and sugar, then bounced to the car and finally settled down enough at about 8 pm to go to bed, the equivalent of midnight New Zealand time. I had long before given up the ghost and could do no more than offer a quick kiss and unintelligible grunts as I unpacked my suitcase (which had miraculously gone from 15 kg when we left to about 25 when we returned). I made it to 10:30 before chucking in the towel, giving the bunnies a last smooch then heading off for bed.

To bed, but alas, not to sleep. First Carl needed to go to the toilet, an activity requiring an audience of at least 1. Then the bedroom door burst open and in stumbled Niels, covered head to toe in what turned out to be vomit. Holger dealt with him in the shower (coward!) while I went to change his sheets and discovered the entire room had been covered in dark purple stinky puke. His sheets. The mattress. The pillow. The floor. His beautiful pirate rug. The bottoms of my feet.The bathroom floor. The bathroom door. The door frame. The bathroom wall. In fact everywhere except in the toilet.

It took us a good half hour of intense wiping and mopping to clean it all up, while he sat pale and exhausted on a stool next to the loo, occasionally retching into it. Finally it all seemed to be over. We packed him back into a freshly made bed, hoped the air con would scrub the smell of puke out of the air by morning and headed back to bed.

At 4 am both boys were wide awake and wanting to play (of course!). At 5 am hubby gave up and went to sleep on the couch so that when the boys came into our room every quarter hour, at least they wouldn't disturb him. At 7.30 he left for work and here I am, tired, jet lagged, with hands that still smell vaguely of puke. Just got a text from my cleaner saying she can't come today sorry, hope it's not inconvenient!

Oh...and it's my birthday.

Tropical? No, But Paradise? Maybe

This is beaming into your pc from sunny New Zealand, where the temperatures have plummeted and the boys can only sleep at nights with electric blankets, two teddy bears and a large warm Mummy in their bed. Yes, it's cold, but then again, it's still beautiful and well, it's winter afterall. The days are brilliant blue, the ocean is crisp and sparkly and even in winter the grass is lush and green and some plants are flowering. It's like a diet version of the coldest season: Winter Lite.
Bay of Plenty residents are still in shock after a large snowfall on the Kaimai ranges last weekend; this in a region where they don't even build heating into homes! After 34 degree days in Singapore it was a shock to the system to say the least. Fortunately my sisters rushed to the rescue with polypropalene lcothes, spare jackets, and one even gave me her hot pink warm fluffy pyjamas to wear. We hadn't planned to visit NZ but an ill family member was a good reason to see us jetting across the Pacific for a hasty week long stay. Hubby is left holding the fort, feeding the bunnies, and manning the phone as we are trying to get rid of our furniture in preparation for our upcoming exit from Singapore. At least he has the bunnies for company.

Back From Bintan

Yes, we're back from our short break in Bintan, complete with suntans and dirty laundry. As before we had a fabulous time, and this time around got to share it with my Mum who is visiting us and returns to New Zealand today. It's been a hectic time, hence the lack of posts, but here are a couple of photos to show what we got up to.

A highlight was riding along the beach on an elephant, the friendly Bani, an 18 year old male elephant who seemed only too happy to wander like a four-legged steam roller flattening a track in the sand in exchange for a large bunch of bananas afterwards. What a life. Actually he reminded me of a few guys I used to know at university.

The weather was gorgeous as always, so we were busy applying sun block and keeping our hats on. The kids and I were fascinated to watch one of the staff catching a long, thin bright green snake which was in one of the tres by the pool, but Mum disappeared in a cloud of smoke as soon as she heard the word snake.

Bintan is only a one-hour ferry ride from Singapore so it's easy and cheap to get to, making it more like an extension of Singapore than a piece of 'real' Indonesia. It's quite expensive if you compare the prices there - all in Sing$ - to Indonesian prices but for an easy, hassle-free break it's hard to beat.

Gotta Haves...

OK I know it seems a bit frivolous but here's a couple of 'gotta haves' which I picked up at a shop called Lims. Actually there are a few of them on the island and I believe I got these from the outlet at Parkway Parade, which is miles from here but I ended up killing half an hour before an appointment and....long boring story which ends with shopping. As you do.

Anyway, the Chinese paper boxes are simply gorgeous. Currently the green one is doing time as a pen holder and the other two are on stand-by. Every panel features a different hand-sown Chinese figure, some complete with hairy moustaches and hair dos. Very cool. They cost $4, $6 and $8 respectively.

The sea-shell plates ($6 each on sale) are perfect for snacks and tasty tidbits and look simply fab. Who says nothing good comes cheap?

Bin There, Done That

Actually this post is a bit of a cheat because...I'm not here! See if you can guess where we are...there's a pretty major clue in the header although if you're not from around here you may not get it unless you are an AVID fan who can remember where we disappeared to last year for a week.


Clue: we don't have to get on a plane to get there. And yes, it's hot and sunny.

If you guess and send me an email or a comment telling me the correct answer, I PROMISE I will send you a cool prize.

Back on Friday!

Sembawang Park - Something For Everyone

One of our favourite parks in Singapore also happens to be just down the road from hubby's work in Sembawang. This district, on the northernmost coast of the island, is a varying mix of almost deserted six-lane thoroughfares and modern HDB blocks, seemingly waiting for a population influx to come and make use of the new amenities, and old (for Singapore standards) Black & White colonial houses which were built during the time the British ruled this tiny nation as an outpost of the Emipre.

I once read in the newspaper that the Singaporean government wants to increase the population from 4.6 million to 7 million by 2020 and a lot of these new citizens will be living in the north. In typically well organised style, this means that the public transport, roading, public amenitities and housing all seem to be ready and in place before the people have actually arrived. Eerily efficient.

However I digress. Nestled against the coast facing Malaysia across the narrow Johore Straits, Sembawang Park is a large, rambling affair which almost makes you forget its huge bustling neighbour, the Sembawang Shipyard. The Shipyard was a British Naval Base from 1938 to 1968. Stands of mature trees are home to hundreds of birds, and on any visit you are guaranteed to see a dozen different species. Many of the paths in the park are restored original walkways which were used during the British occupation. Wandering through the park you feel about a hundred miles from the hustle of Orchard Road, although in 45 minutes you could drive to the southernmost point of the island. Yes, it's that small.

The park is also where you can see one of Singapores last remaining natural beaches, and it's a very popular camping spot. You can camp here for free any weekend, although a permit is required. Standing on the wooden jetty watching locals catching blue crabs and fishing for small yellow finned fish, it's fun to watch the kids squealing with joy as they throw themselves from low-hanging branches into the warm waters below. In fact this is in my opinion one of the best parks to meet the locals as it's a real family spot popular for barbeques, picnics and camping year-round. On any weekend you will see clusters of little pup-tents sprouting like colourful mushrooms along the sea-front, although nearly always they are clustered together under the concrete-floored rain shelters which can't be all that comfortable. I don't know about you but the last time I fitted inside a pup-tent I was about 12 years old so it doens't appeal to me, but clearly there are plenty of adventurous Singaporeans who love to get out there and drop off to sleep enjoying the sound of the sea lapping the shore at night.

Many of the locals in this area know quite a bit of the rich history of the area and are willing to share their stories, including those about the large New Zealand Navy battalion which was permanently based here until the early 1980s. We must have made a good impression because they are always keen to ask me if I'm a kiwi when they hear my accent and share a few anecdotes.

Next to the beach you can visit Beaulieu House, an unusual flat-roofed Black & White which was once home to the British Admiral. The house is now a restaurant where you can buy great coffee-to-go if you happen to turn up early on a Sunday morning with a hangover. As you do.

This brings me to the main attraction for our lot, which is of course the large kids playground. Big enough to keep them happy for a couple of hours running around in a pack with a dozen new friends they've met that day, the playground is surrounded by huge trees and provides ample shade for weary Mums. Or those with headaches and a temporary sensitivity to loud noises and bright lights.

In all, Sembwawang Park is a great place to visit. If the nature doesn't interest you then the humungous ships and American Navy vessels being built and repaired at the shipyard next door will certainly keep you fascinated. And if you don't fancy lunch at Beaulieu House, head around to the Yacht Club on the other side of the shipyard for a slap-up Chinese meal for half the price you'd expect to pay for such good food.

Heels From Heaven

Don't you just hate it when your heels get all cracked and dry, looking and feeling like battered armour plated appendages that seem to be the missing link proving our connection to the great apes. The marble floors in the apartment have played hell with my feet over the past 21 months. Yes, I am cave woman, and I have the feet to prove it. Or at least I did, until about half an hour ago. Cast thine eyes downwards and behold: feet, reborn.

Why oh why have I never had a pedicure before?? I've hated my feet for ages when all I needed to do was lie back in a compfy chair, reading my book and sipping honey and ginger tea while a pink-robed magician worked magic on my tootsies, transforming them into something I'm quite proud to show off in a pair of strappy heels. Ooooooh, I feel the urge for a new pair of shoes coming on...

First I was soaked in a hot footbath of purple crystals which slowly transofrmed into a moisturising jelly. My feet were then individually wrapped in warm towels before being given a foot massage. Not one of those comfy fall-asleep massages mind you, but a proper Asian reflexology probing. Apparently any insomnia and digestive problems will be solved after a few sessions. Forty minutes later, after just a couple of squawks of protest (from me, not the masseuse!) my soles were draped in a therapeutic lotion-infused wrap and left to marinate for half an hour. After that, the real work began. I won't bore you with the details but let's just say that after the work out my feet gave her as she filed away, that woman could now arm wrestle professionally. Finally, my feet were well rubbed wtih a gentle moistuirser and it was time for me to leave.

As I slithered home, my feet so oily and slippery inside my sandals that passing motorists probably thought I had a displaced hip , I vowed I will do this every month to keep my feet in shape. Believe me, you should be grateful there are no before or after photos.


No more heels from hell for me!

Fidgets, Our New Favourite Playground

One of the great things about living in the tropics is the weather. It's always warm (sometimes too warm) and even when it rains, the temperature never drops below about 26 degress. Ah yes, the rain. Well, maybe there is something less than great about this aspect of the weather. When we were living in Holland long grey days of drizzly rain were not uncommon. But here, when it rains, it absolutley completely POURS down. There doens't seem to be an in between on the equator: you're either dry or you're one blocked drain away from swimming.

It's a hassle when you've got young kids generating enough excess energy to make it worthwhile selling to the national grid . Our boys need to move, and move a lot. For this reason we've become well acquiainted with most of the indoor playgrounds around the island. So far our favourite is SAFRA at Toa Payoh (Lorong 6), which has a large multi-level play structure and is very reasonably priced at about $7 for unlimited time. The lack of any facilities other than toilets mean you need to take your own drinks and food which keeps it cheap, and healthy too. We've been to Go Go Bambini at Dempsey Hill a couple of times but find it quite pricey and always too busy and incredibly ear-splittingly noisy. Just too many kids in too small a space, although the facilities (cafe and play area) are very nice and quite new.

However now there's a new kid on the block and it's become a firm favourite: Fidgets at Turf City. This is the biggest indoor playground I've found here, getting close in size to the structures you see in New Zealand and Aussie. Not surprisingly, it has been imported from Australia. With two long slides and a couple of cool innovations like the giant ball pen and large plastic bubbles fitted with steering wheels the kids can sit in, there is plenty to keep the kids happy.

Parents will be pleased to know there is an automatic ball washing machine in the ball pit; the kids put the balls into a transparent tube which sucks them up, whizzes them along the side of the structure and shoots them through a machine which washes and disinfects them, then blows the cleaned balls back into the pit. The mechanisms relies on kids feeding it balls but believe me, this isn't a problem.

Another plus for us long-suffering parents: there is a cafe serving a range of muffins and cookies, plus some reasonably healthy sandwhiches, although the selection (roast chicken with apricot sauce, roast beef with horseradish, and egg mayonnaise) wouldn't appeal to most young kids so next time I'm taking our own sandwhiches (Fidgets staff if you're reading this: sell plain Vegemite, peanut butter or jam sandwhiches and you'll make a fortune!) Finally, comfortable seating for us weary mums. So many places neglect to provide somewhere comfortable to sit and before you start thinking I'm going soft, on our second visit to Fidgets we stayed for FIVE HOURS, so imagine how you'd feel if you had nowhere decent to sit.

Price-wise the place isn't exactly cheap at $15 per kid, but this is for an unlimited play time and the facilities, such as the kid-sized toilets and hand basins and the large flat screen tvs hooked up to cameras so you can watch the kids play from the comfy sofa lounge, are by far the best I've seen.

The boys and I give Fidgets a big thumbs up. Next time you're there I'll be the harassed looking Mum listening to her iPod and writing her next blog entry long-hand in a notebook to fill in time.

Learning By Osmosis

Despite the hype about living in the digital age and how kids need to learn to use computers from a young age and programme software by the time they hit puberty, I've never really been all that keen on the kids spending a lot of time behind the screen. They both get computer time at school, so at four years old even Carl knows the basics. However both of our boys have the energy of tree squirrels on speed and need plenty of outdoor exercise, so the idea of them blobbing out behind the computer and storing up that energy until some innocent passerby like, say...their MOTHER has to try get them to sleep at night doesn't appeal. For the same reason they don't own Gameboys or Playstations. Yet.

However, the great thing about computers is of course the internet. If they get birthday money from Nana, they browse the websites of the big toy chains to see what they want to buy before we head into town. Feel like a movie? The kids check out the trailers on line first and if we decide to go, we buy the tickets on line too. Looking for cool pictures to colour in? Try the Starwars or Lego sites for instantly printable pages, and while you're at it check out the great kids games there. Niels loves You Tube for it's collection of home-made Starwars movies made with the Lego figures and clips of planes. Even Carl has his favourite site, the BBC's CBeebies site which has a huge collection of games based on their pre-school programmes. You can even choose to play games that only use the mouse, an easier option for littlies. He sits there, flicking through the game menus using the mouse with two hands, switching between full screen and regular view, closing the pages he doesn't want and hunting down his favourite characters. It really is learning by osmosis as often I'll be sitting there with him and think "I didn't know he could do that". So although their computer access is limited to about an hour or less every third or fourth day, clearly it's enough.

Au Jardin - Location, Location, Location!

For some time now we have been meaning to try out Les Amis au Jardin, a restaurant located inside the famous Botanical Gardens in Singapore. It's taken us this long because the place is always fully booked for Saturday nights, which means you need to be organised enough to place your reservation more than three days in advance. My flair for what I like to call spontaneity, and everybody probably calls disorganisation, means I rarely think to book a restaurant before Thursday. However since we were looking for somewhere special to celebrate our 11th anniversary last Friday I booked us a table and off we went.

Finding the place was the first challenge. But wait, I hear you say, how big can a garden be? Well pretty damn big actually, and the 'uncle' who was driving our taxi had no clue how to find it. The address of the restaurant is Cluny Rd and after a lengthy detour through Cluny Park Road (wrong side of the park!) we finally headed to the right entrance - the visitor centre. We stepped out into the humid darkness, silent apart from the croaking of frogs and the distant traffic noise from Bukit Timah Road. Of course at 8 pm the visitor centre and surroundings are dark and deserted, but oddly there was a man in a snappy tuxedo standing next to a golf cart. We were expected.

A quick wizz along a dimly lit fern lined path took us to au Jardin, which is inside an old Colonial house inside the grounds. Smiling staff welcomed us into the regal surrounds, and we seemed to be one of only about four couples there. We climbed the red carpeted staircase, admiring the original wood panelling and beautiful decor and were ushered to a table intimately set on a small enclosed balcony looking out into the lush ferns and tropical trees outside. What a fantastic setting!

The restaurant offers two types of menu: the 8 course degustation 'taster' menu, or the 4 course menu which you put together from a select range of fish or meat dishes. Opting for 4 courses, we were also offered a side dish of three kinds of the freshest looking mushroms I've ever seen - I expected the wiater to have dirt under his finger nails from picking them in the garden. The food was, in a word, superb. I choose the duck while Holger went for fish, and both were simply divine. The prawn and pea 'pot au feu' was a gorgeous conconction of fluffy pea souffle with succulent prawn fillets, and the tastiest fish boillion I've ever had in my life eleantly poured over the top at the table. My desert of chilled mango soup was superb, while Holger tucked into a tasty plate of suitably smelly cheeses. Something also worth mentioning was the brilliant service; our waiter knew each and every dish and could discuss the ingredients and preparation with knowledge, something you don't come across very often. Wine buffs would appreciate the wine list which was a book at least 2cm thick. We settled for a lovely Raveneau Vaillons 2004 Chablis which hit the spot perfectly.

Just when we thought we were finished and settled back to enjoy an espresso for the road, the waiter approached with slice of delicious chocolate cake on a plate decorated with Happy Anniversary written in chocolate! How sweet. We thoroughly recommend this restaurant for a special occasion or even just because, and in fact it may even come very close to rivalling Blu as our favourite - future testing will be required! One bonus was that the bill was quite a bit less than we would have expected to pay at Blu, although the fact it doesn't have a martini bar may account for some of that.

Check it out if you can, but don't forget: make a reservation!