Beijing: So Much More Than Hanging Duck Carcasses

China was never very high on my "places to go" list. I can say that easily, without fear of exposing my complete and utter ignorance, because I've just returned from Beijing and I'm happy to admit how I wrong I have been. My previous view of China was based on, rather pathetically, my experiences in San Francisco's Chinatown. Images of overly crowded streets, foreign smells, and hanging duck carcasses left me preferring to spend my precious vacation time in places like Greece or Europe before I ever stepped foot in Asia. It's amazing what taking a leap of faith can do. In four months I will have covered more of Asia than I ever thought possible and enjoyed every minute of it, proving that change can sometimes be very rewarding. (Don't read too much into that, mom, no Thanksgiving will ever be complete without regular old, no frills stuffing.)

I landed in Beijing on Friday evening. Christian had already been there for a couple days at a conference. The ride from the airport was uneventful and Beijing, from the taxi window and in the evening light, looked like it could be anywhere else in the world. Aside, I guess, from the illegible street and highway signs. I was looking forward to seeing Christian, but a little apprehensive about how this trip would go, and most importantly, how we'd ever find something not scary to eat. At this point I was armed with my preconceived notions and the fact that Christian had been served cow lung and duck tongue. Once, about ten years ago, I acquired a duckling. It was only for a few days, until we turned it over to a local wildlife reserve, but "Mabel" had peeped and pecked and preened her way into my heart. After a baby duck the size of a hamster nestles into your sweater to keep warm, feasting on a member if it's family, however far removed, is not an option. I don't care how "peking" it is. Trying to look at the bright side, I told myself this would be the perfect opportunity to start that wedding diet.

Christian had arranged for our tour of the Great Wall of China first thing that first morning and when we woke up at the crack of dawn, we were delighted to see a light blanket of snow on the ground. Being from California, and the Central part at that, I still thrill at the sight of the clean white cold stuff that makes everything look like it's covered in marshmallow fluff. Yum. As we headed out, the lovely dusting had turned into a heavier coating and as we got closer to the Wall, our decision to forgo the over-crowded tourist section for the more scenic yet more steep and more remote location in Mutianyu started to seem like a very, very bad one. It wasn't exactly a blizzard but considering our past travel luck, I couldn't help but take stock of what we had in the way of provisions: about 1/3 of one pint of water, 13 almonds, and an oat and honey granola bar. For five of us.

Our rickety little caravan consisted of us, our tour guide, Lin, our driver, and Mark, one of Christian's friends and co-workers. By the time we got to Mutianyu and helped the one other tour bus that was there by pushing it up the snow-covered hill before it slid down it, my converse and Christian's black patent leather Jack Purcell's were soaked. Totally charmed by the snow and picturesque scenery, the prospect of hiking one hour up a steep slope in our ridiculous city clothes seemed like a good idea, so we decided against the gondola and bounced off in the direction of the Wall, snow falling like bits of confetti around our widely smiling faces.



The ascent up the slope was so tiring that it cancelled out the cold on most my person, except for my toes, which were numb about five minutes in. Luckily, when it really got bad, we reached a peak where you could see the first section of wall, and wonder and awe took over. The overwhelming feeling of gratitude and amazement that I was where I was trumped all thoughts of losing a toe to hypothermia. What a wonder the Wall truly is. You can't help but think of the 1000's of people across history who lost their lives to build it, the people who were saved by it's existence, and the people who have stood in wonder, just like I did, at it's magnificence. In case you didn't know (I didn't), parts of this wall, in some form, have been around since 200 BC and some estimates put the current standing, fully man-made wall at over 8,000 km long. So. Utterly. Cool.


Next, our guide took us to a restaurant serving up the local cuisine. Uh-oh. Another review of my remaining provisions yielded eight almonds and one half of the granola bar. I'd be fine. Entering the restaurant, we were met with a surprisingly pleasant aroma and eight baby food jars sitting atop a cabinet near the hostess stand, each one with it's own large insect tenant. A cricket, to be exact. After nervously staring at the critters, we asked our guide as nonchalantly as we could muster, if they were to be part of our lunch. She looked at us as if we were crazy and explained to us that they keep them around to hear the cricket's sing, going so far as to carry the jar's with them in their coat pockets. How...strangely beautiful. I decided at this point to set my perceptions aside and just go with it, and it worked out in my favor. We left lunch with bellies full of noodles, pork, and only one odd dish of some starchy substance that we dipped fried strips of something in. Ignorance is bliss.


Next up was Tienanmen Square and the Forbidden City. The square is huge, much larger than I expected, and full of visitors who come to take their picture next to the huge portrait of Mao that is hanging near the entrance to the Forbidden City. The Emperor's old digs were equally large but heaps more fascinating. It was so cool to step into a piece of ancient history, and I eagerly listened to Lin describe all the structural detail, while Christian and Mark tried to keep their ears warm and counted the minutes 'til we were back in the car. My excitement, even in 20 degree weather, was slightly disturbing as I realized how much closer I've become to turning into my mother (love you, mom).

The next day, Christian and I took to the streets and headed to an area of town called Dashanzi Art District, or 798 for short. It's a thriving artistic community nestled inside 50-year old decommissioned military factory buildings built by the Germans. When the factory zone was abandoned in the early 80's, the University of Fine Art bought the buildings to use as workspace for their art students. Then, about ten years ago, a Texan strolled into town and bought one of the spots to open Timezone 8 Bookshop and Cafe (which is where we lunched). An employee of his, who was also a designer, started helping her artist friends secure their own studio's and it all blossomed from there. There are now literally 100's of studios and gallery spaces and every street is lined with incredibly large art installations. Another point for Beijing!



Another memorable Beijing experience took place on one of our last evenings, in an area of town nestled around Hoi Hai Lake. The lake itself was carved out in the 12th century, but the banks are now dotted with alfresco bars, cafes, and the odd curio shop. The bars are mostly filled with locals singing bad renditions of Bryan Adams songs, but the backalleys behind the shops and the ancient bridges and temples that are sprinkled throughout are worth exploring. We had several ice-less "whiskey colas" and ended up at a great restaurant called "Cafe Sambal", a delightful gem of a restaurant, which was in the middle of an old run down neighborhood. The delicious Maylasian food they served was a perfect night cap to our fantastic and fascinating trip.


China, your land and your people have captured my heart and piqued my interest. I can't wait to start planning for Hong Kong, then Shanghai, and beyond!

YOU'LL FIND ALL OUR PHOTOS FROM BEIJING HERE.

Just come from a land down under...

Four months into our adventure overseas and already another continent down, another pushpin in the world map! I prepared for our trip down under by spending $60 on travel guides and not cracking a single one of them. Typically, I like to have tour books dog-eared and our days road-mapped before we depart but I headed to Australia a mere 36 hours after I touched down in Singapore from my San Francisco trip, where I jammed four weeks worth of activities, eating, and wedding planning into 8 days.

I returned to the airport feeling as if I'd never left. The only thing I could focus on was how amazing my family and friends are for throwing me such a sweet bridal shower and whether or not I chose the right food and floral arrangements for the wedding. I could hardly wrap my head around the fact that I was headed to an entirely new-to-me continent. I know next to nothing about Australia aside from the fact that they talk funny and like to play boomerang so when we touched down in Melbourne, I fully expected to peer out the window and see a vast continent of flat land and a mob of roo's hopping around under a pack of eucalyptus trees. You know, for the koala bears.

We were to hit up both Melbourne and Sydney this go round, starting with Melbourne, where Christian would be participating in a three day work conference. Motorola set us up in the Crowne Metropol, a hotel near Melbourne's Central Business District. Our room was lovely but the hotel itself was nestled in a mega-casino and shopping complex, complete with a food court and movie theater. It was one of those Vegas type monstrosities that span several city blocks, where you only have to feel the outside air if you want to. Weird. We landed on a Friday and took the weekend to check out town. We were pleased to find Melbourne a lot like SF. A great mix of old architecture and modern galleries, indie boutiques, and no shortage of hip new restaurant's and bars. I guess the pre-wedding slim down is just going to have to wait.




Whenever we head to some place new, our agenda usually centers around finding the best places to eat with some shopping and a smidge of sightseeing thrown in (mostly for the picture's). As we started to explore Melbourne, I knew that our waistlines were in trouble. It was refreshing to find many different ethnic options, a ton of cafe's focused around sustainability and fresh ingredients, and very few fast food chains (so basically, nothing like Singapore). Our first lunch was at a very small wine and tapas bar called Movida that we stumbled into from an alley made colorful with tons of graffiti. One thing we discovered about Australia is that there is a thriving art scene. There are art walks aplenty with a plethora of museums for every taste. This artist's culture is also manifested in the streets. Street art of every kind is encouraged and appreciated
and because it's so revered, it's sprinkled throughout the city, making everything look like it's got a little more flair.



Movida turned out to be a fantastic choice and a memorable meal, so memorable in fact, I tracked down the chef's cookbook a few days later and took it home with me as a souvenir, thus beginning my new tradition: picking up a cookbook from a local chef or one that showcases the local cuisine from every stop in our world trek. But back to Melbourne, and specifically, Movida. There's something about the Spanish way of eating - small plates meant to be mulled over lazily with friends and copious amounts of wine - that I just adore. We had an assortment of delicious nibbles, from fresh olive oil rolls to sea scallops with crispy pancetta, mushroom croquettes, an ahi salad, and fried potato bombas filled with chorizo. We washed it all down with plenty of tipple - two glasses of wine and a boozy dessert of lemon sorbet with cava macerated strawberries. Ahh, vacation.

There weren't a ton of landmarks we needed to check off the list, so we spent the rest of our time in Melbourne doing what the locals do - walking around, scouting places to eat our next meal, and shopping. Four months before the nuptials, and it turns out we've embarked on a quest for the world's most elusive man's suit. Although it's a city filled with an incredible array of shopping, Melbourne left us empty-handed. Something tells me this is going to be an ordeal. I feel for Christian (but I'm secretly relieved that my gown has been selected, paid for, and is currently being fitted). It's amazing how many of our days are filled with handling the details of the wedding, thinking about some aspect of it, chasing down items for it, and most recently, having recurring nightmares about flubbing some part of it. Here we are, literally continents away, and the majority of our conversations and at the top of our every to do list, is the wedding. Is this normal? Here I go again....

Next up was Sydney. If Melbourne is San Francisco's hipster cousin, Sydney is definitely SF's beefed up big brother. The city is SF on steroids. It's big, it's beautiful, and the food and art scene's are a melting pot of flavors and cultures. We immediately love it here, and I'm struck with wondering whether everyone compares where they come from with their new surroundings or whether it's only something we do because we so desperately miss our city, our family and friends, and our old way of life. As we enjoy the southeastern coast of Australia, the comparison's don't stop. Our ferry trip to Manly Harbor for dinner one evening takes us through small seaside towns off the coast of Sydney that could easily be somewhere in Maine. Our walk through a hip shop and gallery lined street called Chapel in South Yarra, Melbourne, may as well have been Mission Street in San Francisco. As I have the opportunity to travel more and more I realize that wherever I am in the world, "home" and the people that I'm so lucky to have inhabit my life are always close by in my heart. I see them in everything we do and everywhere we go. And that, loved ones, is what I learned in Australia. (Note: Somebody may need to remind me of this revelation when we start our travels in China.)

If you like great food, fantastic shopping, art, culture, and a seriously beautiful coastline, New South Wales and Victoria, Australia are outstanding places to visit. During our trip, the Queensland area experienced devastating floods and destruction due to a cyclone and Egypt was suffering from a frightening and violent (yet somehow still hopeful) uprising. We watched it all unfold on TV while we escaped the heatwave that hit Sydney and there's nothing like witnessing hardship to remind you just how lucky you are. I still can't believe I'm getting married in less than four months. It still hasn't even sunk in that I get to share my life with a person and a pup who fill my days and nights with laughter and happiness. The fact that we're getting to see the world together while we build and create all the details of what will be the beginning of our future, is just the icing on this incredibly huge cake that I feel so, so fortunate to have been given.


Check out more photo's from our trip down under here.

National Lampoon's Communist Vacation

Nothing says Christmas like a trip to Communist Vietnam. Christian and I arrived at the decision to spend the holidays in Hanoi much like we arrived at the decision to get a french bulldog - spontaneously and without doing much research. Our hour-long commute from the airport to the old quarter where we'd be staying for the next four days while celebrating the birth of baby Jesus and CC, should have tipped us off. We spent the duration of the ride holding our breath, white knuckling the seat in front of us, and suffering shell shock from all the incessant honking, which we learn is the Vietnamese equivalent of using a blinker. Why let the old lady on the bike who's balancing a soup pot on her back while cycling through traffic know that you're about to turn with a blinking light when you can just lay on the horn?

The first couple days consisted of sightseeing, dodging mopeds, avoiding the old tourist trap of walking too slow and suddenly finding yourself balancing two baskets of fruit with a woven hat thrown on your head and then paying for a photo opp you never even knew you wanted. Ducking into galleries and discovering a really cool artist and then leaving that gallery to flee from the old woman who's insisting that you need a new pair of nail clippers or a lighter. Finally locating what appears to be a delicious bahn mi stand only to find out that the sandwich you're given is actually filled with all the things you never want to eat. Ever. Walking into a boutique and scoring five new dresses for 1,925,000 dong (about $100 US dollars) and having your fiance realize how many jokes he can and will make about "dong" for the entirety of the trip.

On our third day, Christmas, we decided to take a guided boat tour of Halong Bay. We'd heard wonderful things about this 1500 km strip in the sea that is home to nearly 2000 limestone islets. A system that was formed over 20 million years by rainfall and weather and apparently, according to our tour guide, dragons. We started our journey by boarding a bus crammed with 16 starry eyed tourists, all ready to be amazed by this natural wonder. I lost CC when the tour guide told us it would be a 3 1/2 hour drive to the bay. And 20 minutes into the trip, when the couple who brought along their baby decided the trip wasn't for them and asked to be let off the bus, I had to hold onto Christian's belt loops to stop him from joining them.

Luckily for CC, our tour guide wasn't much of a talker. He taught us that the famous Vietnamese noodle soup, pho, was created as a dish to help men recover from a night of boozing and then he talked on his cell phone for the duration of the trip. This proved to be a bad idea, when at the end of the day we found that the bus driver and our vehicle to get home were missing and our guide's cell phone with the driver's number in it was dead. But I digress. Left on our own to gaze out the windows and guess where we were, we settled in for the long drive. About mid-way through we stopped at what can only be described as the Vietnamese version of Costco. A warehouse full of machine made crafts and scarves and snacks sold in bulk to busloads of naive tourists being shuttled through on their way to the bay. We'd had about enough of having things that were likely made in China shoved down our throats, so we left with a tube of Pringles and waited for everyone else on the bus.

We arrived at Halong Bay and were met with much colder weather than we were prepared for. We brought jackets but we had a dude in a tank top and flip flops, his girlfriend in cut-off's, and two teen's traveling with their mother who were wearing t-shirts on our boat. If you know Christian at all, you know that his knowing people are cold is something he's unable to tolerate. He gave up his jacket to the young girl and let the dude who was stupid enough to ever wear a tank top suffer. That's my guy! Although the surroundings were incredibly beautiful and the lunch they served us onboard was edible, the weather and the less than enthusiastic boat crew left a bad taste in our mouths. We left the boat and kayaked around a bit, then eagerly re-boarded so we could head to the caves (which is the only thing the guide seemed truly excited about).

We arrived at what appeared to be a big mountain, took some photos,
and climbed inside to view what was indeed a magnificent and massive water-formed cave. Only problem is somebody decided to light all the formations with different colored lights so that the awe-inspiring natural wonder was lit up like the inside of Saturday Night Fever. To further the effect, Kenny G was being pumped in as background music. WHY? After the assault on our senses, we were more eager than ever to get back to the hotel. After offering up our cell phone and locating the missing bus driver, we made it back by 10pm and nursed ourselves back to happy by devouring enough room service to feed 18 people.

Our (supposed) last day was spent checking out even more pagoda's, this time in the Ba Dinh area of town. This section of Hanoi is clearly devoted to Uncle Ho. Museums, mausoleum's, and monuments abound. We skipped checking out the museum's and decided to just hoof around and check stuff out. It paid off and we covered several miles of Hanoi and got to see some gorgeous architecture and the beautiful and serene Temple of Literature, which was built to honor Confucius over 15o years ago. After exiting the Temple, we ran into a friend from Singapore, proving that it is indeed a very small world. He and his sister were a sight for sore eyes and we made a date to meet for beers and tapas later that evening. We enjoyed the meal and the company and went to sleep that night feeling like we could leave Hanoi knowing we had seen everything we wanted to, with minimal grumbling and negativity. A real feat!

The next morning is when the entire trip really became a parody of itself. After packing our bags and eagerly anticipating seeing Phoebe in just a few short hours, we realized that the file where we kept our passports and visas (the one that we moronically carried with us in a backpack for the duration of the trip), was gone. And so began a slew of panicked phone calls, then several trips back and forth to the US Embassy, then a visit to a ramshackle photo booth/mechanic garage to get new passport photos, then to the "police department", which was really a room where the only officer was about 16 and watching Billy Madison, to file a police report, then back to the Embassy, and finally a failed trip to the Vietnam Embassy (which had closed 15 minutes before our arrival). Wearily, we headed back to our hotel and booked another night.

We woke up at the crack of dawn, headed to the Embassy and begged them to let us go home as soon as possible. Without giving anything away, they told us it could be a possibility if we booked a flight for the next day and brought back proof. We were off and running, using only an iPhone and our last shred of hope to lead us to the closest Singapore Airlines office. Once we were booked, we ran back to the Embassy and the paperwork was handed over. We spent that night trying to make the best of our hopefully last day in Vietnam and managed to find a delightful spot to have our last night's meal. We ate well, headed to our hotel, and I promptly got violently ill - a special little sickness that stayed with me the whole night through. Not one to be outdone, Christian managed to jam all the toes on one foot into the strangely massive concrete floor divide between the hotel main room and bathroom. That night we drifted in and out of painful sleep wishing for a real live Christmas miracle. Low and behold, the next morning we were given our passports and kindly asked to leave Vietnam. We replied with "happily".

Don't get me wrong. There are lot of wonderful things about this country and the prospect of discovering those gems was the true reason we visited. The way everything in Hanoi is mixed together indiscriminately is exciting and interesting. You have beautiful colonial architecture and hundreds year old pagodas nestled in amongst alleys filled with garbage, cool galleries and hip boutiques with old ladies slinging soup from vats of chicken fat and pigs feet out front, vivid colors and terrible smells, incredible gardens and grimy buildings. Vietnam is fascinating because of it's beautiful resilience AND ugly decay.



In the overcrowded and smoggy streets, you see daughters holding the hands of their old and ailing mothers and smartly dressed old men cradling their grandchildren with pride and adoration. This sense of respect is instilled in Vietnam's people and replicated in the ancient architecture that is lovingly preserved throughout the city. Though we suffered some goofs, mostly due to our own idiocy and clumsiness, we got to visit a country that for our parents generation represented something altogether different than what it stands for now. I think Christian's Aunt Maria put it well. When we told her we'd be spending the holidays there, she commented, "Oh, the beauty of the world: things can, and will, always change".

For more photo's from our adventure, head HERE.

Cold Storage, Cooking School, Culture Shock

To stave off the onset of boredom and fully settle into my new role as "lady of the house", I signed up for several local cooking classes. After all, Motorola is footing the bill and perhaps learning the local cuisines will help me navigate the anxiety-inducing hell that is the grocery store in Singapore. I'm sorry, the "cold storage" or I mean "wet market". Even the names sound unpleasant and confusing.

One of my favorite things to do (since childhood, mind you) is go to the grocery store. Second only to doing laundry. I know...I was born a 1950's housewife. I love every aspect of it. The list making, all the shiny new things, bringing home ingredients that will be turned into something nourishing and delicious, and the best part of it all, organizing the cupboards and the fridge to fit in all the new goods - with all the shiny new labels facing out and organized by type of course!

Singapore has stolen this joy from me. The store's are chock full of stuff - too much stuff strewn about in the most counter intuitive way and too little of the stuff you'd think are pretty basic. They carry 18 flavors of Pringles and they have an entire aisle devoted to sugar - white, raw, palm, Indian - but they don't carry brown sugar. ANYWHERE. When I asked a clerk if they carried it, he just looked at me like, "of course we don't". All this while stocking shelf after shelf with Doritos. How foolish of me to assume you'd carry such an outlandish product as I direct my line of sight to the bakery, where they sell all sorts of gooey, brown sugar-y confections.

This is not to say that I don't blame my own ignorance. My new geography is not lost on me and it's certainly not Singapore's fault that I can't locate a good that may or may not be used here. I appreciate that I can still get most of my comfort products just about anywhere even though I'm so far from home. I even kind of understand why all those products are 60% more expensive than if I bought them in the U.S. ($17 for one pound of sandwich turkey, people). And I'm sure that I'll learn to really enjoy all those prickly, misshapen, even stinky fruits and vegetables I've never seen before but right now, it's Thanksgiving darn it and all I want to do is make this brown sugar and pecan topped pumpkin pie.

But I digress; the cooking class. First up, Vietnamese. The class was held at a restaurant/cooking school that can seat about 10 students. It wasn't one of those hand's on classes, more like a live demo of several courses while you nosh away on each serving. Then the main's and dessert are served up at a big communal table and you can yak it up with the fellow student's and teacher - who happens to be somewhat of a local celebrity who has her own cookbook. Our agenda for the day began with prawn and jicama spring rolls with peanut dipping sauce, calamari and fennel salad, curried chicken and coconut noodle soup, shaking beef and mushroom and asparagus stir fry, and creme caramel for dessert. Each course was delectable and I truly learned a lot. Who knew coriander and cilantro were basically the same thing? Not me! One less puzzle next time I visit cold storage. Success! I've been here long enough to know it's the little things.














I was so inspired after the class, I made the curried chicken and coconut soup for dinner. I even added my own flair - sliced red onions I soaked in lime juice to get rid of some of their royal onion-ness. It added color and another dimension of flavor, which I learned was the essence of Vietnamese cooking. I think Chef Samia would have been proud. Next up, a hands-on course on petite cakes!

See my own version of Curried Chicken Coconut Noodle Soup below.

Happy Deepavali

My third day in Singapore, Christian and I took a trip over to Little India to explore and visit what was rumored to be the biggest one-stop shop ever. Mustafa didn't disappoint. Four expansive floors filled with everything from household appliances, team jerseys, luggage, sunglasses, food stuffs, and three aisles of deodorant. They're open 24 hours a day and employ over 1200 staff to keep it running. I expected to round a corner and find an aisle full of live goats or perhaps a post office. I thought a trip to Costco on a Saturday morning required special breathing techniques to navigate, but this was just crazy. The over-the-topness almost scared the sense right out of me and I attempted to buy a pair of bright green crocs. Don't judge - the floor of our condo is cold, hard marble and my poor dogs ache.

In the end, we bought a package of sponges, some outlet converters, a box of sandwich baggies, and a mop that I think was made for hobbits as it's about 2 feet long and makes sweeping for this 5 foot 10 girl a real hunched pleasure. Aside from learning that Little India's megalo-mart can be thrown over on the "done and never needs to be done again" list, we did make it out of there with the knowledge that the Indian community was preparing for Deepavali (or Diwali). Celebrated in the Hindu community, Deepavali is known as the "festival of lights" and from what I understand, it's a pretty major celebration. One important and admirable practice that Hindus follow during the festival is to light oil lamps in their homes on Deepavali morning. By lighting the lamps, Hindus are thanking the gods for the happiness, knowledge, peace and wealth that they have received. See how much I'm learning?

As luck would have it, a co-worker friend of Christian's invited us over to his home (which happens to be in our building) to help he and his wife kick-off what was to be a whole weekend of festivities for them, their family, and friends. It was also going to be our first dinner out with people who weren't each other. I love spending time with Christian but needless to say, I was pretty psyched to have this to look forward to.

Shankar and Raka had also invited two other couples from the building. Andrew and Steph, a couple from Australia who are expecting their first baby next Spring, and Christie and Simon. Christie just moved here from oddly, San Francisco, and her boyfriend Simon is British. Shankar and Raka were amazing hosts. Their home is just like ours, only with real extravagances like actual furniture and real live serving dishes and floor pillows. Their home is gorgeous and filled with all sorts of antique delights from their travels across India, China, and the rest of Asia. If we were impressed by their pad, it only deepened when they began serving us food. Delicious homemade Indian food - little fried balls of minced meat (pork? chicken?), braised lamb, fresh naan, curried potatoes, and the best yogurt sauce ever. Add to that wine glasses that never seemed to stay empty, good conversation among a group of strangers who seemed that night to have known each other for years, and a warm, cozy setting and Christian and I not only experienced our very first Deepavali, but a night out with folks who I can only imagine we'll be seeing a lot of.

One of my biggest fears coming here was whether or not we'd be able to make friends. With our um, quirky, sense of humor and the fact that we've managed to never really need to make "new" friends, I was a bit worried it would be hard for us to get out and meet like-minded people. We have between us such a fantastic troupe of besties who we've been lucky enough to know for most our lives. We've never really had to try and meet new people. But all those fears diminished that evening - the eve of Deepavali. In one evening, four couples, all from very different parts of the world, shared delicious food, some great laughs, and a warm home. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we left feeling very grateful and happy for the "wealth" that was shared with us. Happy Deepavali everyone!

Arrival

After months of preparation and packing, piles of paperwork whose teetering heights rivaled the highest peeks of Kilimanjaro, a wretched handing over of our beloved dog-baby to menacing strangers at a cargo station at SFO, and bidding farewell to the people I love most in the world; I arrived. Stepping out of the airport after twenty hours of air travel, I was a little loopy and more than a lot sweaty but I gathered my overstuffed luggage and teetered out to find Christian.

I'd imagined the reunion so many times over the last month and it was every bit as as sweet as I'd hoped. I spotted him immediately (after all, we are in Asia). Giddy like school children, we zigzagged our way through the airport grounds to check on Phoebe's arrival. Holy bureaucracy! After jumping through several hoops, we arrived at the quarantine center and immediately spotted her crate. She saw me first, but the mere sound of Christian's voice sent her into the most adorably sweet fit. The meeting was bittersweet because she still has ten days of lonely quarantine to go but we left relieved that she had made it safe and the worst part was behind us. Just a few more days, little girl!

Our new digs are modern, spacious and roomy (plenty of space for visitors!) with a large deck off the living room that faces the wraparound pool. Every window in the joint has a view of the Singapore skyline. It feels particularly grand at night when we're serenaded by the piano playing at the hotel across the way. The complex is large, clean and well-kept (and yes, it's totally safe, mom). The best part is we live within walking distance of an area called Robertson Quay. It's a little community alongside a river that is overflowing with shops and restaurants for every taste and desire. My welcome dinner was a selection of cheeses and antipasti and a bottle of wine at a wine bar. I guess old habits die hard.

We're allowed to visit Phoebe from 4-6pm every day. The facility is wonderfully clean and spacious. Each dog has their own air conditioned room and when their owners get there they can be let outside to play and stretch. All the people there are friendly and they all seem eager to get to know us and Phoebe. Who can blame them? She IS pretty adorable. I think she's going to be just fine and that is just the biggest relief.

Putting their propensity towards order and cleanliness aside (which is an automatic win in my book), Singaporean people are also courteous, friendly, and welcoming. While looking a little lost in the street while we tried to figure out the MRT (subway system), a man stopped what he was doing and asked if we needed help. Taxi drivers are not only patient while we try to pronounce where it is we need to be shuttled, but they're happy to share with us a bit of Singapore history and seem genuinely interested in what brought us here, where we're from, and how we like their city so far. It's impossible to be skeptical of their generosity and kindness, even for surly old me.

My first days in Southeast Asia have been full and exciting. Being away from Christian for a whole month not only taught me that I could fix our perpetually broken dishwasher myself but most importantly, that his mere presence no matter where we are in the world plays a huge role in my happiness. It's more than terrific to be back alongside my partner-in-crime. I've never been so sure that we made the right move. Now if I can only figure out how to work this oven...

For more pictures of our first week together in Singapore, go here.

Countdown

Wikipedia describes the term "Dog and Pony Show" as referring to small traveling circuses that tour through small towns and rural areas.

When I try to imagine what life way over there in Singapore is going to be like, I can't help but picture Christian, Pheebs, and I weaving through tiny foreign streets on a bicycle made for three, all of us with our own bag fashioned out of a red handkerchief tied to a stick, bobbing and doping our way through mishap after misfire. One of us will undoubtedly get busted for gum (probably Phoebe). Locals looking to haze the new guys will serve us chicken feet and laughter will ensue when we end up licking our plates clean. I'll get lost but end up finding the perfect mom and pop shop where I'll return week after week and learn Malay in exchange for sharing our stash of Sonoma wine.

Even with all this newness ahead of me, even knowing how great a sacrifice leaving our beloved family and fabulous friends is truly going to be, and even fully realizing that this excursion will indeed include some culture shock; I still can't wait to get this whole shebang started. I'm sitting here at the tail end of September and I can already visualize December. Maybe we'll be in Bali. Perhaps Hong Kong. Hell, let's just call it Goa. And then I see past that into the Spring and on into the Summer when we're getting married. I'M GETTING MARRIED! I will become my best friend's wife. Is it even fair to feel so lucky?

There will no doubt be hardship. There will no doubt be tears. But there will also be stories to fill a lifetime and experiences that only come from taking a risk and sharing your life with people you never would have known had you not put yourself in a position to be vulnerable. If you're reading this, you're probably wondering what in the world we've been thinking. Well, we wonder too, but I hope you also know that we made this decision to not only better ourselves, but better ourselves for each other and for all of you.

I hope you'll come back here often and share in the stories of our own little traveling circus. The worse that can happen is adventures!