I ate raw chicken...

...and survived.

On our trip to Penang in February, we stopped by a little Indian restaurant for a feast of curry and naan. The place was quaint and all of the diners except for Louis, his brother, his girlfriend and me were Indian. I was a happy bunny indeed, reeling our order to the waiter who raised his eyebrows like "this is too much for the four of you".

Of course he was wrong. We polished off everything and even ordered more rice and bread.

Later that evening however, Louis' stomach started feeling a bit funny. Then we found out that his brother was also having problems. Nothing major for either of them. When the morning came round it became apparent that all three of them had some weird sequential stomach bug. And it was worse than they first thought but they were brave and insisted that we carry on with our plans to see the spice garden. We did make it around the spice garden and even dipped our toes in the Strait of Malacca. But by late afternoon we decided to head back to Georgetown and our hotel. 

We had wanted to go to a traditional nyonya restaurant to sample the local food that night, but we decided it would be best to stay in the hotel and order service, especially as we were heading back to Singapore the next day.

Louis and I ordered some fries, congee (like a Chinese porridge) and a chicken satay pizza. For some strange reason, as I was munching on my third slice of pizza I was curious to look at the chicken. And then my stomach dropped as I realised the chicken was COMPLETELY raw in the middle. Ugh. First thing that went through my mind (selfishly was @*&^ I thought I missed out on the food poisoning). Frantic googling ensued to try and figure out what to do. 

Of course we complained to the hotel and they refunded us the money. Unfortunately that wasn't so much consolation in light of the fact that we would be boarding a plane in about 12 hours...potentially violently ill with salmonella.

*_*

Most of what we read online was comforting though because apparently raw chicken is just as risky as raw beef, which we eat without giving it a second thought. And we managed to find some information that stated if we were to get ill, we would feel it between 4 - 72 hours after eating the food. I was too tired to wait for the 4 hour mark, so went to sleep figuring that if my body required to reject whatever was inside it, it would wake me up. 

And guess what? Well, you already know. We both survived and didn't feel ill one bit. And not just that, we found out that chicken sashimi is some form of delicacy in Japan. Who knew!

Any horrible food related stories everyone? 

Sx

What it's come to...

Guys. It's not been an easy 3 weeks. Not gonna lie. For starters, I've been waging a full fledged war against Orange (our internet providers) since Easter. Just thinking about it makes my blood boil. So let's move on.

Secondly, we ran out of diesel, which we use to heat our water so that we can have lovely warm showers. Before we ran out of diesel, we used a power heater to heat the water whilst showering. Unfortunately, after several showers wondering "what is that horrible burning smell?" we realised it had caused an electric short. I guess we should've guessed there was something dodgy when every time you switched on the power heater the lights in the bathroom dimmed. Hindsight and all that jazz.

After calling several diesel providers and being told that they wouldn't come to our house for anything less than 1000 litres of diesel (which translates to about 700 JD) I was thinking, well showering using a bucket and cup isn't so bad after all. However, one of the diesel providers told me that, given the fact that I wanted [only] about 100 litres of diesel, my best bet would be to take a gallon tank and head over to the petrol station to fill up on diesel.

So, one of my colleagues kindly accepted was bribed into helping me out with going to the petrol station to fill up diesel, bring it back to our building and emptying it into our diesel tank.

We only managed to find a few stray water bottles in our house but the guys at the Total petrol station were kind enough to give us a couple of 5 litre bottles to help us out. Diesel, meet transportation containers:

I was worried that it wouldn't be efficient using a lot of smaller bottles instead of a large gallon tank but it's lucky that we didn't find a gallon tank because there would have been no space to empty it out due to the short ceilings in the diesel tank room. Silver lining.

Formidable Salim.

We made three trips and managed to fill up about 75 litres of diesel, which isn't much, I know, but we're hoping it'll last us until we have to move out.

I tell you, you learn the funniest things if you are just willing get your hands a little dirty [diesel-y].

Sx

Hiking Jordan

Last weekend, we went camping in Wadi Dana for a friend's birthday. Wadi in Arabic means valley and Jordan is abundant with them - even in central Amman! Wadi Dana is located sort of in the central-west of Jordan, about a 3-4 hour drive from Amman and was made into a nature reserve in 1993 due to having so many diverse bio-geographical zones and species of plants and animals. You can read more about it here. 

There are several ways you can drive to Wadi Dana and we decided to take the road along the Dead Sea and then take the turning towards Tafila town through the Kings Highway. I'm really glad we chose this route, as it's so scenic and calm. I love the Dead Sea and considering how close it is to where we live (less than an hour away(!!)) we don't make it down there as much as we really should. Here's an embarrassing confession - I used to think that the Dead Sea was basically a small pond...um..no...it's nothing like that at all! It is absolutely HUGE and when you're on one end of it, the tip goes right up to the horizon and beyond. Anyway, I'd really advise taking this route if you're heading to Wadi Dana. 

The Dead Sea.

When you turn off away from the Dead Sea highway, you enter the Kings Highway, a long, extremely windy uphill road. It's not quite for the fainthearted (me). It is very beautiful though, in its barrenness. As you climb higher and higher, you get a fantastic view of the valleys below, and the stark contrast between the jagged mountains and flat lands beyond. It does make your journey time to Dana longer but it's worth it. 

View from the Kings Highway.

Dana is a fairly large area as is the nature reserve itself. This means that the "official" camp and biosphere entrance is completely separate to Dana village (where we had lunch) and the camp that we stayed at, which was a few kilometres away from the first sign of Dana. My friend had stayed at Al-Nawatef camp before and she recommended that we stay there on this trip. I'm so glad she did! It's a lovely little camp, isolated from the world and overlooking a cliff. A short while after getting to the camp, we decided to go for a short walk and explore the area. The weather wasn't too hot at this time so it was perfect. 

The bedouin tents and teepees.

Verandahs outside the tents.

View of the valley.

Fun friends.

Sunset.

We were taken very good care of at the camp. They had a variety of lodging available, little stone rooms, bedouin tents with verandahs over looking the view, large teepees and an area where you could pitch up your tent. Louis and I got one of the stone rooms (the rooms and bedouin tents each have 2 single beds). The room was SO hot but when the night fell and we went to bed, the temperature inside was just perfect, since it was freezing out there. I'm generally very good at camping, but since buying my own sleeping bag (with a dedicated pillow pocket) I find that I can sleep well without thinking of creepy crawlies. Just to note, though, the camp was very clean and had a lot of linen and supplies. There were several bathrooms you could use and Louis managed to have a shower in the morning. The dinner we had was delicious and varied and we were served tea throughout the night. There was a nice group of people at the camp that night and we played games and made jokes. So overall, a fantastic night camping!

The next morning we decided to make the short drive back to the nature reserve, since we were already really in the area. We paid the entrance fee and went for a short hike. The terrain was different to that in Al Nawatef camp and there were more dramatic cliffs that you could peek over.

Interesting terrain.

Jagged rocks leading to the valley below.

Sitting on top of the world.

After our short hike, we decided to try and find Ashoback castle, located near Wadi Musa. We did manage to find it, but unfortunately the road leading up to the castle was closed for works.

Shoback castle.

After having lunch at a local falafel restaurant, Fatafeet, we headed back towards Amman via the Desert Highway, a flat road that takes you all the way from Amman to Aqaba down in the south (this is the road we take when visiting places like Petra and Wadi Rum). Not wanting the weekend to end, one of our friends suggested we get ice cream at Four Winters, a little ice cream cafe that makes your ice cream using liquid nitrogen. Very cool and very yummy!

Mmmmm.

Now that the weather is ideal, I'm hoping there will be a few more road trips before the hot months of July and August. Have a great weekend everyone!

Sx

Will the third time be a charm?

I think the Universe doesn't want me to visit the Citadel. Together with the Roman Ampitheatre in downtown, they are the symbols of Amman. And I have yet to set foot within those Roman defense walls.

The first time I tried to visit the Citadel, the weather was a bit like this:

Needless to say, they weren't letting anyone in.

The weather has been brightening up here in Amman, so this past Friday, I was determined to be a tourist in Amman and planned to finally visit this monument and test out my new camera. Taking the tourist thing quite seriously, we stopped off at Hashem for some falafel sandwiches. Shamefully, this was another first for me in Amman. I enjoyed the sandwiches, but I think my favourite falafel spot remains Al Quds in Rainbow Street.

I digress.

We finally managed to walk up the "hill" (why people keep insisting that mountains are hills, is beyond me) to the Citadel entrance...only to find this:

Being a Friday, the ticket office had closed at 4pm, 50 minutes before we got there *palm face*.

I'm hoping that my third time will indeed be a charm and I'll get to finally see the Citadel up close and personal. Until then, here are some photos Louis and I took. I got a little excited about the different filters haha.

Sx

Mark Complete

Source.

One thing that I really like about being a PA is that I [try] never to utter the statement "I'm too busy" as an excuse. The way I see it, I'm a PA, I should be fabulous (darling) at all things organisational. And simply put, I have the ability to plan my day according to my hours and make sure I manage expectations. And if I see that my day is a busy one, well two things completed is better than no things completed.

Of course this is easier said than done. Whilst I feel that I've done pretty well in never using the I'm too busy excuse for several months now, I have found that this week I really have not been able to complete everything I've wanted to.  My unpacking took 4 days. My flagged task since Thursday is yet to be "marked complete". And I just managed to go to the gym for the first time in two months.

I have indeed felt like those characters in the picture above. And more than once I've thought "should I start panicking or am I in denial that I'm already panicking?". Luckily, I'm slowly making my way through my never ending to do list, doing all I can to keep my cool and of course, resorting to laughing at myself when times get tough. After all, if I'm not going to keep myself entertained, then who will?

Doesn't it feel like sometimes there really just aren't enough hours in the day? Better get better at saying "do you mind if that waits until tomorrow next week?".

How's everyone else doing then? 

Sx

My Funny Friends

So what was that about? Writing a pretty serious and soul-bearing post and then leaving you for 2 weeks? I do apologise. But today a short and light hearted entry.

Was looking through some things (trying to find clothes that still fit more like) and came across this card that my friends sent me before I moved to Jordan. Needless to say, they know me well.

Sx 

ps my friends know that the pyramids are in Egypt but the point is spot on

Lingering Legacies

**I originally wrote this post this time last year. I wasn't quite ready to post it then, but I am now. I have tried not to change many of the words I wrote last year, except in the instances to clarify my meaning. I also finally added my "conclusion", which, while I knew what I wanted to say, I couldn't quite articulate last year. One of the reasons I couldn't post this last year was because I didn't want it to be taken as attention or pity seeking. Though I now understand that those reactions may be invoked, I hope that this post will achieve what I hope to achieve with this blog in general, and that is to relate to others.**

I believe the last photo I have with my Dad. August 2007. London.

 Six years ago today, my father passed away. In the same manner that he didn't trouble anyone during his life, he passed away quietly at home. His death was mercifully swift in its own way, and I'm thankful it wasn't prolonged by a long hospital stay or the agonising uncertainty that accompanies his condition.

I wasn't there when it happened. By the time my brother and I arrived, we didn't get a chance to see him and say our good-byes.

I remember some parts of that day vividly. How I was grateful that my older brother told me that my father passed away and didn't allow us to wonder in vain whether we'd make it in time. How the only tears I shed were when I told Louis. How I emailed a detailed memo outlining all outstanding work to my boss at the time.

Anyway. There are some things that I regret in life. The regret that we're always told not to have in our lives. The regret that makes me think that, if I had a chance to go back now and change my actions, I would. One of those regrets is that I wish I'd spent more time with my dad. Even though I knew he wasn't well, I didn't value the time we had together. I wish I could say it was because of denial. That would suggest that I knew the gravity of the situation and couldn't deal with it. I wish I could say that. But I think I was too self-involved and chose not to register what everyone around me was saying...which meant I spent the little time we did ultimately have causing unnecessary problems to people I loved by lashing out at them and being selfish.

Whilst I was in Sana'a for my father's funeral, I didn't cry, and definitely not in front of anyone. Not once. I couldn't. Partly because I didn't want to be told it was normal to mourn or, alternatively, be told that this is the course of life and I shouldn't be sad. That my Dad is in a better place. But mainly because I felt too guilty.

I felt, I knew, that if I cried, everyone around me would think it was because I was mourning my father, and comment on what a loving daughter I was and / or how sad life is to take him away while my brother and I were comparatively young. But I knew the reasons for crying would be tainted by selfishness. Tainted by my regret for not showing him how much I loved and respected him. Of all of the missed opportunities. Or an accumulation of all the losses I felt in my life, related or not. My tears would not be pure and I didn't want to be perceived as a good daughter, when I wasn't. And so instead I preferred to remain dry eyed and just carry on.

I think of my father every day. I wish I had the maturity and sense, just common sense, to have sat and listened to him and discussed the significant and insignificant things in life. Death. So final. So heartbreakingly final.

Since the funeral I have shed many tears. And even if some are selfish, I allow them to fall. Ultimately, I know there is a sadness inside and an emptiness marking his spot.

Leading up to today, I've been thinking of legacies. My father left many legacies. Us, his children, and grandchildren. The foundations he built for Yemen. The school established in our village, Aghrab. The many lives he touched and the impact he made. I wonder how can I leave a legacy that will make him proud and maybe even continue the legacies he left us. I am not likely to. However, one theme shines through.

My father was always kind, never cruel and he always, always knew that his actions would have consequences, reactions. And he chose for those reactions to be positive, through ensuring that his actions were kind. My father, the man who, when he would have breakfast outside in the garden, would take tear pieces of bread to leave for the birds. And that is when I realised that his legacy was so beautifully simple.

Be Kind.

That is it. That is how I can continue my father's legacy. I know there will be times when I will want to be cruel or put others down. But I will try. I will try.

Rest in peace Baba. We all miss you so much.

Sx