Had a horrendous finance midterm this morning. Seriously, I couldn’t even comprehend some of my answers. And some of the portions required such creative mathematics that I would laugh if anybody else did that. So suffice to say I was depressed thinking about the possibility of flunking and paying back the scholarship blahblahblah.

Then this happened:



The boss bought the entire office tickets to the Phillies World Series Playoffs next weekend. Yup, that managed to cheer me up a bit.
:D

I realized that because of the restricted access to Blogger while I was in India, I never had a post on my time there. So, in order to avoid seeming like 3 months of my life was spent in some vacuum, I decided to put up random stuff which I dug out from the folder labeled "Tata":

India, by all accounts, is a bemusing mixed bag of contradictions. I see it in the streets, where the white haired swamis perched on bullcarts, with not parrots but cellphones perched on their ears. I see it in the high rise software complexes, standing in front of a vast shantytown, where the bosses are obsessed about leveraging efficiency but still love their pani puris during long chaat breaks. I see it on the roads, where the autos squeeze along side the latest Nano cars, but everyone stops to let the buffalo in front pause to take a dump mid-traffic. I see it in the newspapers, affixed with the latest horror incident of honour killing in the villages, yet awashed with airbrushed celebrities on Page 3. (This, I have unsurprisingly, been very fond of.)

All these, are what I see from foreign eyes, but I am getting accustomed to the chaos, and even appreciating the liveliness it brings.

At the market:

Buying tomatoes from the market is somewhat therapeutic for me. The hybrid versions, which are only available from the posh supermarkets are uncommonly huge and plump with juice. But equally, I enjoy the more humble tomatoes from the street stalls, although they are small and some are quite a discomforting hue. But the old women who sell them to me are very honest and charge me according to the rates that apply to everyone. Under the dim lights of their stalls (or most of the time, light from the unreliable streets), their craigy faces look up at me in a moment’s curiosity, but their expressions return to the same stoic one that has to face a hard life, the moment I hand them my coins and walk away.

In the auto:

It was my first weekend in Hyderabad, and we were in an auto on our way home. The auto driver took us through one of his untested shortcuts, which wound through the alley streets in Koti. I clearly remember a young girl, no older than 14, whose expression captured the wonder at having seen such strange, yellow-skinned people, packed into and auto. Oh yes, I remember her very clearly. She was pretty in the way adolescents are, innocent, yet forced to be mature by life. She was bathing a toddler in a metal basin outside her house. (I suppose that must have been her brother.) She was dressed in a mustard yellow sari, and she looked up as our auto drove past her home. Her eyes widened and she gaped at us for a nanosecond before breaking into a wide smile as we zoomed past.

Squeezing in the ladies compartment in the public bus:

I remember the bus was chugging along, and I was trying to hold on to something for balance, but of course, the bodies were too tightly packed for any space to move about. I was in a highly awkward position, with my full weight pressed upon this fleshy auntie. I could feel the softness of her body beneath the starchy sari.

I was expecting her to holler at me for being pushed up against her in that manner, but I guess in a country of more than a billion bodies, people get that it’s crowded at times.

In the bazaar:

I pleaded as sweetly as I could without being nauseating, for the shopkeeper to let me have the scarf for Rs100. He flat out refused me and said “Rs 150. No bargain!”. Of course, ever the pugnacious shopper, I tried again, but just I was prepared to give up because there were other customers around, the white haired shop keeper hitched his sarong, got up and whispered to my ear, “ok, best price just for you, Rs 120.”

Then, there was no more to be said.

Having said that, the green pashmina scarf is really pretty. :D

Reading the newspapers:

India has an obsession with information, much like all great democracies. The society might be conservative on the whole, but its newspapers are relatively liberal, publishing snippets on all and sundry. The pictures are filled with gory detail, of accidents, hangings, executions and murders.

***********************************************************************************

India is like a wonderful love affair, and it seems there must be a private narrative scraped out for preservation of whatever smoky memories I will come to have of this place. Chalo.

Working at a start up has been a sobering experience. VS at the adolescent stage of a great company, not quite a start up in its infancy, but not a well-oiled machine either. There are lots of menial things to be done, which of course fall onto the laps of those lowest in the food chain. Thankfully, there is light at the end of the tunnel, and I hold on to the hope that after all the photocopying, faxing, data-entry, there will be more exciting stuff to come. (Which is why I'm anxious to finish up the current work properly, because if I can't even handle simple data entry work, who's gonna trust me with more complicated things eh.)

Otherwise I'm just gonna bug people till I get to do more interesting stuff. :)

The culture in the office has two main modes: relaxed and ultra-relaxed, the latter kicks in on Friday afternoons after the main bosses take off for the weekend. Initially, (ok, even now), I was unsure of how to communicate with my colleagues. I guess there is really no other way to describe them other than sweet angmoh bengs. Amid all the bodily noises they emit during office hours, everyone busts their butts for the company, and they reward themselves with a pint or two after the week's targets have been fulfilled and Bootcakes scrawls a big red tick on the whiteboard beside the wii machine. P and I discussed baking cookies for the office people to celebrate Labour Day, and we're even thinking of caving in and use red, white and blue icing. -.-''

One of our bosses, let's call him M - he resembles a character straight out of the Sopranos. "I don't ever have a filter over my mouth," he tells me on our first meeting, and in that sense, he reminds me a bit of my own Dad. Fast-talking, educated inthe school of hard knocks, intensely loyal and extremely dismissive of crap. (I overheard him say in an even tone to someone over the phone "I only listen to the facts, so call me back when you get them straight.")

On my first day at work, my supervisor (let's call him "B") had some instructions for me, and I grabbed the first notepad lying on the desk. Turns out that the entire notepad had headers that were lovingly printed in elegant, cursive pennmanship, the words "Dear ****face". Truamatised. B didn't seem to notice, or at least he pretended not to, I'm not entirely sure what that says about VS culture.

In any case, to a great year ahead, farts, warts and all. :)

Work doesn't officially start till next Monday, so I've been pottering about the house being all housewifey and heading out to wander, somewhat aimlessly, but very enjoyably so.

Headed to school for a behavioral experiment, then went off to the bookstore to worm myself in a corner. I guess passing the hours like this can seem extremely agreeable, but I can sense restlessness creeping up on me. Obviously there are tons of stuff I could occupy myself with, but I suppose I should really use this week as a recharger before all the hectic-ness starts.

Waiting for the housemates to come home so we can set off to the frat house for the party preparations later. In all seriousness, I think that particular frat house is pretty gross, just cos there's so much random trash lying around. Thought about clearing away all the empty cans from the common room, but then I saw a roach scurrying past the kitchen door and freaked out a bit. (yeah, I know it's senseless, but I hate cockroaches. HATE. Ok, more like fear.)

So I got J to shoo the offending creature away before we all continued to marinate the meat. Seriously, I think my house in India was cleaner. :p

Random sightings:

On my way home from the bookstore, I walked past the cathedral next to our house and saw this homeless man in a tuxedo suit, sitting crossed legged on the steps and facing the large wooden doors of the church hall, snorting a cig furiously. His head was bobbing up and down and he seemed pretty out of it. So that's a whole new spin on taking it higher for the Lord.

Whew, mostly settled down in our new apartment. Things are still a bit messy, but it's oddly comforting to be arranging the salt, pepper and various spices on the shelves. We know where the water flask goes, where the utensils should be kept, our toothbrushes have their own space in the toilet.

My bed is by the window, the view is honestly nothing to shout about, but it's my cosy corner in the room. My sheets are in this awful paisley print, but they sort of remind me of India, so I'm keeping them.

Service today was similar to what we have back home, but the people might have been more enthusiastic than what this Singaporean is used to. American exuberance needs to be cultivated eh. Loved the whole Sister-Act vibe during worship though. (African-Americansoul gospel is always spine-tingling.:))

The housemates went out while I was at service, and while waiting for them to come home, I fell into a 7 hour nap. Woke up only at 7 pm, so I decided to venture out and check out the neighbourhood. Must have walked quite a distance, because after several streets, the houses took on a different facade and the cars were batty and blasted loud music. Found this little grocery store catering to the Indo-Pak migrants, and I bought some Pav Bhaji in a packet to cook. There was also a Rite Line outlet here, and I'll be persuading the rest to shop here instead of Fresh Grocer's near our place. (Since we're all being paid peanuts - and not the Mrs GCT variety.)

Got chastised by the rest for going beyond 40th Street (I must have wandered till the 48th), but I was adamant that the safety advice YL and other Singaporeans give us tend to be a bit too exaggerated. Sure, it may be a dominantly black neighbourhood, but that just means more Risque video stores (no kidding, walked into one by that name, then backed out quickly when I saw the categorization list), and not necessarily outright daylight violence. But then again, I'm stubborn about some things, hopefully I'll learn to rein in my "unassuming tendencies" and stick to the cobbled path. (God forbid I need to be taught a lesson before I do that.)

Can't seem to sleep though it's already 3.30 am. Perhaps the jet lag is finally setting in. That, or the 7 hour nap in the afternoon was a bad idea.

I shall go see what I can do about this.

2 jokes that did not make me laugh:

Unfunny Joke No. 1. Prof Lam, during Investment Analysis class:

Prof: Let me tell you all a joke. What's the difference between an investment bank and a hedge fund?
Student A: an investment bank faces more regulatory pressure than a hedge fund, and it holds more diversified assets.

Prof: Good try, but that's the textbook answer. Actually, the joke is that i-banks are more leveraged than hedge funds. HAHAHAHA!!!! (yeah, she let rip a guffaw)

Me: Maaaan, how is that even a joke?!?!

Seriously, I'm a bit worried that I don't find that in the least bit funny. What if my colleagues in the future are all bonding and laughing over jokes like that and I sit in a corner being sulky and not being part of all that hilarious stand-up?! I'll end up being an outcast cos I don't share their same love of finance jokes.

Unfunny Joke No. 2. From xx's (a web engineer) blog:



I did not roll over laughing from this one either. But understandably, because I'm not well-versed in programming code. Apparently the mother in the comic actually gave her son a name that deleted the school’s database of students through a method called SQL Injection. Um, hahaa?

All this funny business is making me slightly disturbed.

I know that technically, it's really none of my business, but for reasons beyond the fact that I am female, I feel strangely invested in this person:



Oh no, it's true then, I've turned into one of those noob third rate political junkies who are hooked on this race. :( But yeah, to quote Tina Fey, "Bitches get things done, people, get on board, Bitch is the new Black."

My mother and sister just asked me out to go clubbing with them. I told them I needed to finish up some work in school. -_-''

In other news, Chingay 2008 is finally over!! Woot!

I'm back from Winnipeg/Chicago. Had a blast in both cities, and learnt alot on the way. Everytime I come back from another country, I always have this urge to move away and live there for a while. Lem and I were saying that both of us would swop our red passports for a blue one :s Ohwell, Singapore still rocks la.

Ok, enough talking, pictures!
Transiting in Narita Airport, Tokyo. Pretty geishas were very obliging. I think they were highly aware of their exhibitionistic purpose. Oh yeah, and I met Jo by coincidence at the Narita airport. Turns out he was on his way home after vacationing in LA. Small world eh.

The team just before our presentation. Pretty fun bunch, heh. :P Will miss our marathon sessions. (Only very slightly)


We headed off to the local casino for lunch after the presentation. What can I say, the food was AWFUL. Seriously, Canadian cuisine is not very appealing. Sorry!

Me with one of our very sweet ambassadors, Bryanne. She chauffered us practically everywhere, took us shopping, sihgtseeing, cosmic bowling, and even got her Dad to cook us Caribbean curry.

The team at some dinner function. Poor Lem was MIA cos she had mild food poisoning. I had food poisoning on the first night from -get this- the hotel food. Delta Winnipeg was a pretty awesome hotel, but their food is absolutely horrendous. Spent the first night puking up the room service we ordered. (Creepy egg mayo sandwich, ugh) Thank goodness I recovered on the second day after throwing up all the toxins. -_-''

Jy and Mike, another of our ambassadors.

Ok, more pictures coming up after I'm done unpacking and then repacking to move back to hall on Monday.

Flew out of Winnipeg to Chicago yesterday. After the frigid cold of Winnipeg, Chicago seems positively warm to me. Can't believe I'm saying this, but I kinda miss all the snow and frosty air :p

Anyway, am currently in the Harold Washington Chicago Public Library. It's a huge establishment, almost the size of the Supreme Court back home. Really nice place. They've got this massive computer room which I'm in right now, a museum and of course, millions of books. Interesting observation: when Lem and I waled pass yesterday, there were like 20 people lining up outside to get in the library the moment it opens its doors. We realised that they were mostly homeless people wanted to seek shelter and uh, use the internet. The guy before me kept going back to the librarian to complain that his account wasn't working, and they librarian snapped at him and said it must be because of the websites he's visiting.

Anyway to recount some of the highlights of Winnipeg:

Meeting our Ambassadors, who were all really sweet. They took us cosmic bowling, which is basically bowling in this glow in the dark aleey with teeny balls. We went shopping, walnut hunting, boozing, and a night out at the bar, which is kinda like Zouk back home. Oh yeah, that's where Terence spent all our money buying rounds of shots for everyone -_-''

Had mild food poisoning on the first day after this creepy sandwich from the Delta Winnipeg hotel, so I spent the first day pretty much out and puking out stuff. Thankfully, I recovered soon enough and was able to have fun, heh.

Mike bought us all shot glasses to take home after we finished drinking from them, but uh I guess we were so hammered, we just left them in his room. Uh, the stuff he gave us was kinda potent though, and reallyreally spicy. The bar had way tamer stuff, so even though Lem and I had about 12 shots bewteen us, we still pretty ok at the end of the night. Same can't be said of jy though. Haha, he was so gone, but yeah, the four of us had fun. Especially T! Our Sarong Party Boy. Oh man, that guy is one hardcore party animal. I'm such an old geezer, I'm usually pretty tired by 2 am and I can't party 2 nights in a row. I remember there was this one night we were supposed to get to a party at midnight or something, and T tried to wake me up, but I was so shacked I totally did not respond. Good on me. Too much partying ruins your complexion anyway :)

Managed to find a church in Winnipeg, Catholic, but better than nothing you know. Went in for mass for a while, but L wanted out and I didn't really know what the guy was talking about, so we left after a while. Had to settle for TV evangelists. Kidding lar.

Anyway, am making plans for Broadway! Toss up between Jersey Boys and Wicked, but I have an inkling of the one we'll ultimately be catching. :p

Tons of pictures which I'll upload on Facebook once I get home.