Settled down, man & wife; is this now the story of my life? The London life as a working mom is still a struggle, but we get by with flowers, food and the occasional travel.
Tuesday, 8 November 2011
Sunday, 6 November 2011
Honeymoon! What a life this will be!
At Kuramathi island in the Maldives: one of the most pristine and engaging natural beauties I have ever encountered. This has been a treat showing S the lushness of the tropics and seeing the colours of the flowers, tasting the sweetness of the fruit, the wonders of the sea creatures that coexist still with the tourists of the resort.
Memories of my childhood come gushing back, of all the things my mother tried to teach me about Mother Nature on many of our nature walks. And I have been so excited to revisit them like old friends of mine, playing with the Hermit crabs and telling S all the stories my mother used to share with me.
Today is my last day here on the island. I sit in the fierce sun beating upon the deck of our water bungalow with a cool glass of French rose to sip at for refreshment and I stare at the lone heron that perches everyday on the rock in the midst of the ocean. If only I could stay here forever, with the warm breeze keeping my sun kissed locks off my face, watching the heron and watching the sea. If only we were sure where we would be in ten years time, so that we did not need to spend today stressing and pondering but could just spend it like this everyday of this honeymoon... Careless and carefree, just sipping and staring at the sea.
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My world from his eyes
We have finished the stay in Malaysia. And showing S where I grew up and the full extent of my family has been a shy but exciting experience. It'd be like no matter who the person he thought I was or had morphed into in the last ten years in Sydney, all my layers were stripped bare and laid naked in front of him to scrutinize.
So he met all my family, my roots and learnt the history of whence we came from, and how we perserved through poverty and rose out of others' condescending views of who we were and what we were made of. And I wonder if any of that came as a surprise?
I am not born of poverty. The family business began to thrive as I was born so I was lucky enough to be sent for private education. I am known amongst my friends for my weakness for good wine, luxurious spas and my penchant for expensive designer bags. It'd be difficult I think for me to teach my kids to be humble when I myself have turned my own back on my heritage by leaving the country. It will be a tough choice. Do I maintain a very traditional home so that my children feel a disconnect between the home and school like many first generation Australians? Or do I let S take on the reigns in dictating how a second generation Australian home should be run, banking in on the advantages that his parents cultivated in him by their selfless sacrifices when they left Malaysia and raised their kids in Sydney?
I get ahead of myself. S confides in me that he values how endearing it is to him that I care about family and am ever ready to care for them. And if that is all he sees in me after this trip then my family has taught me well and I needn't have worried that our humble beginnings would have frightened him.
Others only can long for such a big and supporting clan in spite of our stories and our dramas. We are wealthy, not of the monetary sort but in the love we possess for each other. As grandma cries as she drinks my cup of tea, as third aunty exclaims how much she'll miss me now that I am marrying to such a faraway place, as I see many familiar friends' and relatives' faces during the 600 pax reception we had in KL, I cannot help but let a few tears escape as I stifle the sadness in me over leaving them behind to start my new beginnings. And S stares at my glistening eyes in wonder. Perhaps not able to comprehend the depths of the emotions as he extends his unsure but reassuring hand. Or does he? As he whimsically agrees that we could raise our kids in Singapore so that I can be closer to my family...and speaks as much Mandarin as he knows, I can see how hard he is trying to love me, and to embrace my world as his own.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
So he met all my family, my roots and learnt the history of whence we came from, and how we perserved through poverty and rose out of others' condescending views of who we were and what we were made of. And I wonder if any of that came as a surprise?
I am not born of poverty. The family business began to thrive as I was born so I was lucky enough to be sent for private education. I am known amongst my friends for my weakness for good wine, luxurious spas and my penchant for expensive designer bags. It'd be difficult I think for me to teach my kids to be humble when I myself have turned my own back on my heritage by leaving the country. It will be a tough choice. Do I maintain a very traditional home so that my children feel a disconnect between the home and school like many first generation Australians? Or do I let S take on the reigns in dictating how a second generation Australian home should be run, banking in on the advantages that his parents cultivated in him by their selfless sacrifices when they left Malaysia and raised their kids in Sydney?
I get ahead of myself. S confides in me that he values how endearing it is to him that I care about family and am ever ready to care for them. And if that is all he sees in me after this trip then my family has taught me well and I needn't have worried that our humble beginnings would have frightened him.
Others only can long for such a big and supporting clan in spite of our stories and our dramas. We are wealthy, not of the monetary sort but in the love we possess for each other. As grandma cries as she drinks my cup of tea, as third aunty exclaims how much she'll miss me now that I am marrying to such a faraway place, as I see many familiar friends' and relatives' faces during the 600 pax reception we had in KL, I cannot help but let a few tears escape as I stifle the sadness in me over leaving them behind to start my new beginnings. And S stares at my glistening eyes in wonder. Perhaps not able to comprehend the depths of the emotions as he extends his unsure but reassuring hand. Or does he? As he whimsically agrees that we could raise our kids in Singapore so that I can be closer to my family...and speaks as much Mandarin as he knows, I can see how hard he is trying to love me, and to embrace my world as his own.
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Location:Airport Main Rd,,Maldives
Monday, 24 October 2011
A welcomin' home
There's something about coming back to your parent's home. You can feel like a child all over again even when you're all grown up.
I suppose I have been away for almost ten years, but coming home and smelling the familiar smells of the garden, eating dinner in the same familiar way with the same familiar dishes... Hiding my valuables in the same spots where I used to hide my prized toys and pulling out my favorite t-shirt from when I was twelve and putting that on to go to sleep in my childhood bed. I see all my favorite books and they all seem like old friends acknowledging that I am back.
And there are those subtle things that are tell tale signs of how much time has passed. The dining table is so scratched and worn. I still remember when we first got it and how proud we were of it. How my job was to wipe it down every evening after dinner so that we could see our reflections off it. There are new pieces of furniture that look strange until i realise they are meant to aid my aging grandma get about the house. My posters in the bedroom are yellowing. The mango tree is now taller than my bedroom window. I still remember dad planting it and saying that he wanted it to grow so that no one could see into my room from the streets. This would protect my privacy. Brings a tear to my eye that it has achieved his vision now... But I no longer live here...
It is always emotional being home the first night. It is always so hard to get used to the humidity and I always spend the first night in air conditioning. But this night I adapted very quickly, I can't wait for S to arrive so that I can lay in this room with him...where I used to spend many a night with my teenage fantasies of my Mr. Right, or just crying over my unrequited puppy loves. I now get to share it all with my husband and one day our kids.
Yes I am glad to be home
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