Finally all that nerve wrecking, nail biting times when I have to go for interviews is over. I have officially found myself a good job at a very respectable, well established place and I finally have to settle down to working full time again. hai...no more lady of leisure.

It's been close to 5 months since I had to work full time and somehow it makes me feel a little strange that now I have to work again. And it's only been 5 months! Can you imagine if I decided to just becoming a housewife or full time mother? I would freak out if I have to re enter the workforce after years of being a lady of leisure.

And beginning at a new place is no simple task. Especially for such a shy girl like me. hee hee. (my dear friends...stop ROLLING the eys!). I have to go down to the place this saturday for my uniform fitting and then I will need to get myself a new pair of black court shoes and black stockings. Hmm...why oh why didn't I buy those shoes in Sweden when finding my size would be much easier? And I definitely can't depend on brands like URS and Charles & Keith. They have such pretty shoes but not practical for someone who has to be on her feet all day. I need the supreme comfort shoes. But Scholl is so old lady brand. Cheryl suggests Everbest. Never heard of it but it doesn't hurt to go have a look. See what happens when I start on shoes? I go on and on and on. I get so excited about shoes.

A comedian once said that shoes to a woman is what breasts are to a man. Everytime you pass a pair, you just have to take a second look.

And I really do think that is true. At least for me they are. Shoes and bags are my 2 ultimate weaknesses. It's unbelievable just how many bags I own and I went to Sweden thinking I probably wouldn't shop much. And came back with 5 new pairs of shoes. Not shop much huh? RIGHT.

Been working the past few days at my temp job as a clerk at a hospital. Damn it's tiring work. But to be perfectly honest, I have no idea what it is that makes it so tiring. I can understand if the nurses feel tired cos they are the ones doing all the vaccinations but all I do is register ppl. So why do I feel so tired when I go home everyday? So strange.

And I even had a date with Cheryl and Fran last evening after work. A walking date. Hai...tried to postpone it and convince my dear friends to go for dinner instead but darling Fran was very enthusiastic about the whole exercise deal so she pushed for it. I think the phrase I last night used was Francine was brimming over with enthusiasm. Ya lah, that girl had the day off what. Cheryl didn't mind giving the walk a miss tho she did add that I was a bad influence. But we eventually did go and that was quite fun.

Funniest thing was that once we started moving our butts, I started to feel a lot more energetic. And to the detriment of Little Miss enthusiastic, one of us (not me, mind you) started running so I too began running and I think I ran further and faster than either of them wanted to or was prepared to go. Haha! Fran even asked if I have been exercising in secret.

Hello?! Do I LOOK like lI've been exercising in secret? I don't THINK so.

But anyway, we had a good time walking/running and so had a relatively guilt free dinner at Thai Express. I seem to be gong there VERY often these days. But the food so nice, how NOT to go? And after dinner, we went to eat some ice dessert while watching a group of young buskers which was so exciting.

And we derived so much enjoyment from watching them I actually felt bad about not giving them at least a small token of appreciation. So I did. Too bad nobody applauded them after their tricks. It was quite impressive for teens so young.

Why I didn't applaude them myself? Pai seh mah. Nobody applaude and I clap hands like a mad person. Cannot lah!

I'm hoping to be able to get myself a permanent job come November. I know I know, I must have patience when it comes to this but I'm so bored! Plus I don't want to be idle for too long. A good thing I have my temp job starting next week so at least I'm not just lounging at home doing nothing, feeling bored.

Have been receiving calls for interviews though and that is exciting and frightening. I mean, which interview is not, right? Or is it just me?

Going for the interview is the first step towards the unknown and having to actually face with someone who can make or break your application. Talk about pressure.

Of cos I know that millions before me have taken that step and have been just as afraid but they got through it and so shall I. Or at least that's my mantra as I keep chanting to myself as I am kept waiting for my interviewer in the public lobby.

Tap..tap..tap..go my feet as I impatiently await the jaws of hell (code for interview room) to open up and swallow me in. It may all just be in my head but the echo of my shoes doing a number on the marble floor seem to resonate through every wall and foundation pillar in the building.

Suddenly a door opens and someone in a nice suit walks out. I'm not sure what to do. Should I stand? Smile? Hold out my hand? Do all three? And before I can make up my mind, the well suited individual walks right by me and into the restaurant behind me.

Phew! That could have been so embarassing. And I am left there, seated and sweating bullets with a case of heart palpitations cos I thot the gatekeeper of hell (note: codename for interviewer)had just come for me. Just as I begin to calm down and admonish myself for such foolishness and for getting all worked up for something as silly as an interview, someone walks up to me and calls my name.

I look up in astonishment and can only nod (thank goodness I can still remember my name!) and smile as widely as I can before being led off to a place I have tenderly named the jaws of hell.

So there I'm trying to clear my head, find my centre AND maintain light conversation with the gatekeeper. All while walking towards the interview area. And they still bother to ask me to give them an example of a stressful situation.

Tough questions and tougher to gauge reactions are what I keep experiencing. Especially at one of my interviews. It can be so difficult to see what the interviewer is thinking when they maintain such a perfectly neutral face throughout. I must say, he must have perfected that skill through many years of torturing the minds of countless potential employees.

And then they suddenly throw out a comment that completely throws you off balance. My face is smiling but my brain is burning. To this day, the question is still seared in my mind like the char marks on a well done steak.

"You don't like to lose, do you?"

What?, I wonder. What does that mean? Is that what I am presenting to you by the things that I am saying? But that is so far from me! I think....

And that makes me wonder more. Over and over I turn that question in my head. I know, useless as that may be, it is something that my mind refuses to let go.

Let go, you dumb brain! Let go! How is it that you can let go of so many things but not this one? I dunno why it bothers me so much but it does.

But then, who likes to lose? Nobody starts out something with a mindset that they want to lose. Unless it's a weight loss competition, I doubt I would like to lose. Isn't it the same for almost everyone?

So anyway, this past week or so has been a week of very tough questions which has kept me thinking and wondering. And I must say that this is the most number of interviews I have ever gone for.

Hopefully all this mental trials that I have had to go through will not be in vain.

Although it would be really too bad if I have to work when Mathias comes visit during Raya. But life is like that sometimes. What to do?

Been back in Singapore for about 2 weeks now and I must say, Singapore is rather DEPRESSING.

From the fast paced, competitive world to bosses never leaving workers alone to long hours just to end up with undeservedly low pay and hardly any own time.

This is what I have seen all around me from the time I came back. I hear friends griping about low pay, high cost, no life..and friends who are silently going through their own suffering at work. From picking up calls and answering silly smses from bosses when it's the middle of the night to unreasonable systems who view maternity leave as a liability.

Is this my reality now?

I utterly shudder at the thought and wonder, how is it that Singapore is not the country with a higher suicide rate?

I say it's because we are just too f**king busy at work. That's why. We just have no time to contemplate that life right now sucks, we can't leave our jobs cos we may not find another, we don't have a life cos doing that is too expensive which means we need to work harder to earn more to be able to afford a life outside work.

Hmmm....yup..the great Singapore Dream. You work your ass off for the money to afford a great life after work but end up with no life anyway cos you're just too f**king tired to even think about making love to your partner. I'm starting to think this may be the great Sg nightmare.

And people wonder why I want to get married as soon as I can and leave this place. Of cos the fact that I love my fiance to bits and want to marry him plays a major part in this decision of mine.

Sometimes I wonder if quitting my job in Phuket to come back here just so I can earn better money was such a great idea. Truly. Honestly.

Sure, I earned less than peanuts there compared to what I can earn here in Sg. Of cos I would have my family and close friends to help fill my life. And my living space is definitely a lot more complete here in Sg than in phuket.

But so what? I'm not exactly happy here either. Suddenly words that I have not heard in almost 2 years come biting me in the butt.

"Aiyoh, that job doesn't suit your qualifications. Why would you want to take that type of job?"

"You're a graduate, you know. Why take a job that pays so little?"

To add salt to wound, I went for an interview for a 2-4 week temp job and I realise that I'm the oldest applicant there. I'm freaking 25! Is that considered already old here?

But a dear friend here reminded me that those types are jobs are usually jobs taken by students anyway. Why the heck would I even want to consider that? you're a graduate, for goodness sake!

Yup..I'm a graduate. And not a fresh one, mind you. Nope. I'm no longer fresh meat for the butcher. I'm no longer a spring chicken but an old hen trying to push my way through this fiercely competitive place where saying a wrong word in an interview can ruin my chances.

Dear God, what have I done?!

I'm a Libra so scales is my sign. Therefore I try and weigh things out. Hmm...Earning good money on my right hand. Not being hounded by words that can weigh you down emotionally on my left hand.

And now I'm left wondering, is this even a fair fight? Practical versus irrational.

I like balance in my life and right now, everything is all screwed up. Something I hate and that can get me very down. Makes me even more irrational and emotional and crazy than usual.

But I created my own imbalance and now I must right it myself. I guess it just takes time. Leaving Phuket was a sacrifice I made for the greater good of my future. No matter how much I may suffer right now, I cannot forget why I made it in the first place.

For my love, my life, my world.

But I'm such an impatient person! Hai...

Well, technically, it was not Crayfish Day cos there is no such thing. However, over here, they have a Swedish tradition which is to hold a Crayfish Party.

What is that, you ask? Well, I had no idea either until I turned up on the day. I had actually thought they were joking when I was invited. But later on I found out from darling dear that it was very real and we were going to eat crayfish. Lots and lots of BOILED crayfish. No gravy, no sauce, no condiments.

It was gonna be just the crayfish and me.

When we got there, we found out that before we had the crayfish feast, we were gonna have a bit of games and play first.

This is something about the Swedish family and especially the Sjoberg family that truly amuses and impresses me. When the family gets together like this at Mathias' parents house, we usually play games. Nothing too vigorous but everyone takes part and has fun. Someone will keep score and we all play 2 rounds of each game. Now try to get my family to do that. No wait...try and get them to stop gossiping first

Grandpa Sven-Olof is the funniest player of the lot in my opinion. And he reminds me a lot of my dad during the games. Both men like to suddenly shout for no other reason than to hear their own voice. They both like to clap and cheer, when they are in the mood and they can be very enthusiastic when playing games or having fun. If it was my turn, he would start clapping and cheering, Dian! Dian! Dian!..Dunno if that is funny or distracting.

He was probably just trying to shake the competition. Hah!

It was fun watching him show off by bouncing the balls he had using his elbows or shouting in surprise (very loudly) when he doesn't score as well as he thinks he should.

The games for some strange reason took almost the entire afternoon and I am proud to say that I did not come in last this time. YAY!!

Coffee and cakes came next. What?

Where's the crayfish?

I had been psyching myself up all day for the standoff and its taking FOREVER to begin. So we had teatime first and the sponge cake that I had made that morning was also served. I must say, I am VERY proud to say that the cake turned out EXCELLENT. hehheh...it even looked and tasted like those sponge cakes you buy from the bakery. YAHOO!

FINALLY!

The moment for the crayfish had arrived and I watch as FFIL (future father in law) scoop crayfish after crayfish from a humongous pot and I wonder, will it ever stop?

There is, with most things, a way of deshelling and eating crayfish. And I must say, the first deshell was one of the most traumatic moments I've had since coming here. I know they are small and most importantly, dead. But that does not take away the alien factor.

Yes, alien factor.

Mathias scooped one onto my plate and there is was, it's brilliantly red head (and I'm assuming eyes) staring at me, threateningly, menacingly, oh so grossly. I think I heard a few giggles from some of the old folks about me cos I couldn't help but make a face. And then when Mathias told me to turn the crayfish over to remove it's head and proceed with the deshelling process....UGH!

The crayfish belly had a weird looking, alien inspired structure that i didn't even know where to start looking. Think ugly red spider lookalike with a grey belly that looks like an alien being might pop out and scream at you. 

I dramatise things not! (Tho close friends and love might disagree that point)

Looking back to that moment still gives me the shivers. Although I did get over that and even managed to deshell and eat a few of those icky looking, red lobster wannabes. Despite all my complaints about its looks, it was delicious. I'm never one to turn away great tasting food.

Never judge a book by its gross, ugly, red cover...

There might be a good story inside...

Especially if it's fresh, generously slathered with white sauce and put on top of toast.

All in all, a very very new and interesting experience. With the ugly animal that I had to painstakingly deskin..i mean deshell...to eating that on toast...to sitting across from my FFIL and having to watch, listen and pretend to understand his singing.

Yup! They sing at these parties. Not karaoke style (thank goodness!) but armed with a songbook, a shot or 2 of whiskey and beer and the possibility of a cheering audience..and we have an unstoppable singing machine. But it was fun to watch.

So Happy Crayfish Day and may I enjoy such a day again in the coming years. Skol*!

(*cheers in Swedish)

I love prata. Who doesn't?

It's a deliciously fat way to start your day and if not, you can eat it pretty much anytime you want. And it goes best with teh tarik. Mmm mmm...YUM!

Note: This is bad...VERY VERY bad if you are on a diet or plan on dieting. Prata is strictly for non dieters or for those dieters who can't give a sh** when it comes to prata. Just like me.

They have a Thai version of prata but nothing can take away my love of the original Singapore prata. Hot on the plate, soft to the touch, dip into the curry and it melts in your mouth. Mmmmm...scrumptious!

So I love prata. And I was lucky enough to find prata in Phuket. But here in Sweden, if you say prata, these Swedes will just look at you and think you speak Swedish funny. So obviously, no prata.

But I know Mathias likes prata almost as much as I do, so I looked through my cookbooks and searched thru the internet for a simple way to make prata. and I found it.

EXCELLENT!

So I set out to make some prata yesterday while darling dear was at work. Let's just say it was pretty easy to make but dang was it oily. FOOH!

Cut down on the oil you say? But it's supposed to be oily...it's PRATA, people! Nobody said this stuff is good for you. Prata dough that is not oily is called epok-epok dough. That one I depend on my mummy to make, okay?

Now back to my PRATA.

Since I have to let my dough rest for a while after making it, I decided to also make some chicken curry to go along with it. Now, the white man I love has never eaten Prata the way it should. He has only eaten it in Phuket and so does not know any better.

The poor dear.

In Thailand, the prata is thin. Really thin...It's Lara Flynn Boyle in her deepest darkest allegedly anorexic days thin.

And if you buy it plain, they don't serve it up with curry (and don't even get me started on the curry if you do order that). The prata in Thailand is served with a GENEROUS layer of condensed milk TOPPED with sugar (unless ordered otherwise). And they will put chocolate on top of THAT if requested.

This can possibly send a diabetic straight up to the high heavens or send a kid on a sugar rush intense enough for them to shoot bullets out of their butts. I kid you not.

I'm not saying that it's not tasty cos godDAMN it's good. But prata on its own is already so wealthy in oily (think OPEC), adding all that sugary sweet stuff to it just packs on the calories like crazy. So that's why I prefer the simpler, curry accompanied plain 'ol prata.

No sugar, no milk and definitely no chocolate.

So I made chicken curry the way it should be made. A rich, yellowish brown colour infused with spices and whatever else you decide to put into it. And I decided that since I had so much curry and prata, why don't I spread the love? Especially to the in laws to be. Must earn brownie points la.

So once the beloved white one got home, I tested out a few pratas on him and this guy is so afraid to try it the Singaporean way (he says his brain hasn't registered that method of consumption yet. Whatever.), he just added sugar on everything. At my insistence, he finally dipped a few sugar coated pieces in the curry and said it was good. Before going back to just sugar. hai...this guy needs more work.

But it was all good to go. Not quite the professional quality of those mamaks but it works and it's pretty tasty.

 We had to pick up a few things from his grandparents' place anyway, so we gave Grandma Inger the prata and curry. Mathias tried to tell her that she should put sugar on it and if she liked, she can also dip it in the curry...after dipping it in sugar first of cos. But I managed to straighten it out with her and the clever old lady listened to me and not her deranged, sugar rush suffering (he'll deny this, of cos) grandson. But as Grandpa Sven-Olof was out playing golf, they would eat the prata at dinner and she'd tell us how it was.

The old Mr & Mrs Sjoberg  are the typical old Swedish couple, especially Grandpa Sven-Olof. They hardly travel out of Sweden, don't usually eat very exotic foods and like to remain in their comfort zone. Fair enough, I thought, but if they can't go to the food, I'll bring the food to them. They've never eaten anything like prata before and the curry I made is a type of curry like none other they've ever tasted. The curries they have here are either the bland, pale Chinese ones or the really bean-rich, spicy Middle Eastern type curry. So the simple Singapore type curry is new to them and I was quite pleased to be the first to introduce it to them.

I knew she would call back but I was pleasantly surprised when she called back a few hours later, immediately after dinner, to tell us how they both enjoyed the prata. Yay! BROWNIE POINTS!! hee hee...but seriously, I am very happy that they like the food I made cos it was important to me that they like the food of my place of birth.

Grandma Inger liked it so much that she even asked if she could have the recipe for BOTH the prata and the curry. YAY!! MORE BROWNIE POINTS!! haha!

Now, if the grandmother asks for the recipe, that is a sign she loved it. And she said that even though Grandpa Sven-Olof was a bit suspicious at first, he REALLY enjoyed it with the curry and a bottle of beer.

Alright!..some love has been spread, Singapore style.

A few weeks ago, Mathias had invited his grandparents over to his apartment for lunch, with my approval of cos since I had to do the cooking.

Now inviting someone over for lunch is not something new in Sweden. It is a way of maintaining family relations and close personal connections among friends. And it is certainly not strange among his own family. There have been many, many occasions where his grandparents had invited Mathias over for a delicious lunch.

But to be invited to the apartment of my dearest is something of a miracle of nature seeing that hardly anyone had ever been invited to his apartment for anything other than jamming sessions with his friends.

Boys will always be boys. Especially rocker wanna be type boys. Hai...

So anyway, his grandparents were quite excited about the prospect of an invitation to his apartment and the inclusion of a meal was simply a glowing bonus!

I started cooking quite early and made some chicken rice for them to try. These people have never been to Asia and never tried chicken rice so it was quite a thrill to be the first person to introduce them to Singapore cuisine. hee hee!

So Mathias and I were busily cooking in the kitchen when they arrived. Darling dear had left the front door open to let air into the apartment and so that his grandparents could enter easily into the realm of unreal invitation.

Grandpa Sven-Olof is a man with a great sense of humour and reminds me a lot of my own father. And he certainly incites a serious case of the giggles with me when he tries to speak to me in English. He can speak some English but he tends to lean back towards Swedish or Swinglish as they call it here without anyone realising including himself.

So it was quite a surprise to me when he came into the kitchen to say hello and happily and proudly exclaimed,

'Ah! The best cock in Askersund!'

Before he heartily laughed and gave me a big bear hug.

Hmmm...best COCK in Askersund? Looking down at my pants and then back towards Mathias I gave him a most bewildered look as he laughs so hard he looks like he's gonna cry soon.

WHAT?! I scream at him with my eyes.

The best COCK in Askersund? It was actually the best COOK in Askersund but in Swedish you pronouce cook or chef as 'cock' and it's spelled 'kok'.

Hmph...another lesson in the intricacies of the Swedish language.

Do you know what is your ideal date?

Is it a limo driving up to your place followed by dinner at a posh restaurant overlooking the bright lights of the city?

Is it a cosy night in with your loved one by the fireplace sipping hot chocolate while listening to soft music?

Or is it a simple homecooked dinner and a quiet walk down by the beach, hand in hand with the man or woman you love?

Like so many young girls, I used to think of my ideal date and what it would be like, my ideal man and how he would look like, my ideal life and how it would feel like.

So many scenarios, so many dreams.

And so often, it doesn't turn out the way we thought it would. The world ends up looking uglier, more cynical and that young idealistic girl that had built up such beautiful expectations realises life can be really truly depressing and that we may never find our ideal man.

It's just a fairytale that we dreamed up long ago.

That's when cynicism builds up until one day, someone unexpected will come and make you realise that life isn't so bad if you learn to trust just one more time.

That someone may be related to you, may be in love with you or simply realises just how great you are and wants nothing more than to be a friend to you.

If you can bring yourself to trust someone other than yourself one more time, that someone can help you to realise life isn't so bad even when you are your lowest.

My boyfriend is my someone who made me realise that life isn't so bad after all and it had taken a long time for me to realise that because it took a long time for me to trust him just that one last time.

He was not my ideal man as I had pictured it in my young girl's mind. But he is the perfect one as I had pictured it in my woman's mind.

He doesn't have the perfect body, the perfect hair, the perfect teeth (though they come really close. He has beautiful teeth.), the silky smooth voice or the endless wealth that I, as a young girl, had pictured my ideal man to be.

But in my woman's mind, I no longer value what's on the outside as much as I value what's on the inside. And on the inside, this man is gorgeous. He may not be perfect but nothing ever is.

And that is the way I like it.

Of all the ideas in my head of my perfect date, I never thought that it would be a simple picnic on a green field by a quiet lake with someone in love with me. I didn't realise that an ideal date can be anything as long as it is a pleasant surprise. And what can be more pleasant than a surprise within a surprise.

Eating what I had prepared for our little picnic I can see the wide smile on his face as he says a simple thank you for surprising him with a picnic after he came back from work. As I stare out to the beautiful calm lake and enjoy the view of the castle in the distance, my darling dear surprises me with a gift from his heart.

A small red box.

With one knee on the ground, he holds up this box to me and with his words tells me how much I mean to him. But with his tear filled eyes he makes me feel how much I mean to him. And that is when he reveals the treasure inside.

A beautifully simple diamond ring for me and a plain white gold band for him.

And he says the words a girl waits all her life to hear;

'Dian, I love you with all my heart. Will you marry me?'

With all my heart, I want him to have and hold for the rest of my life.

So I said YES.

You don't have to go look for the ideal because sometimes, when you least think it possible, the ideal comes looking for YOU.

So ask yourself again, do you know what is your ideal date?

Today is the day when 9th graders officially graduate from their school and move on to high school. The Boyfriend told me that fact just the day before which I then, with my 'EXCEPTIONAL' memory, of cos promptly forgot.

So anyway, no big deal about a bunch of 15 year olds leaving school to go to enrol in another right? It happens all the time with different levels of ceremony and excitement. I remember when we graduated from secondary school and had that fancy prom night where we all got to dress up and pretend to be adults just so we could scream and shout like kids in that ballroom for a night.

Aah...such memories.

So back to Sweden...I'm sitting in the living room of the Boyfriend's 2nd floor apartment watching TV on my own when I hear singing and shouting from outside. Being the curious bunny that I am, I walk to the window and look out.

And I see a group of people lining the street just downstairs. They look pretty dressed up and some were oldish and some youngish but no real teenagers ( I'm talking about those obnoxious know-it-all mini adults who think the world revolves around them. The adult world call them hormonal and the phenomenon puberty. I still call them obnoxious mini adults.). So there I stand by the window and wondering what the crowd is for.

Has midsummer celebrations already started?? How come I didn't know about it?!

And then all of a sudden a most curious thing happens.

First I hear the singing. Next  thing I know, a TRACTOR comes rolling by and what should it be pulling?

A big wooden cart that has wooden poles surrounding the sides (like a cage with no top). It really reminded me of those carts from olden times when the British used to transport criminals off to the islands. But instead of smelly, dirty men with long stringy hair that even Bob Marley will shudder at, I see a bunch of well dressed teenage boys and girls in dark suits and white dresses singing and loudly chattering as they wave to the crowd on the street.

What is happening here?! Why aren't they screaming for their rights to proper public transport befitting the smart outfit they have on to try and fool the old folks that they are ready to TAKE ON THE WORLD? And not only are they NOT outraged, some of the boys had actually climbed some way up the poles (maybe to seem overpowering to his class. Perhaps making up for something he was SHORT of?) and they are singing the loudest (once again the Napolean syndrome at work).

So there goes a cart of kids (apes if you ask me) off to somewhere to celebrate their graduation. And not only that, tractor after tractor goes by with carts of these kids and some even have horns and things that toot to go with their singing.

What happened to limos and clinking apple juice in champagne glasses??

The Boyfriend later explained that it is a tradition that these kids be taken around on a wooden cart pulled by tractors on their way to the celebrations. Happens in a lot of small towns. O...k....

Well, if you're gonna invoke TRADITION, then who am I to say something about them loonies climbing wooden poles while singing to some song as they get pulled by a tractor normally used to pull around food for cows and horses right?

Am I right or am I right?

Now please note, I am NOT making fun of Swedish tradition cos I do think it's quite fun and funny. But it's even funnier to see how old school the mode of transport is (wooden carts/ cages) of these teenagers who are dressed to the NINES (suits, ties and gowns) for a ball somewhere.

Talk about an oxymoron.

The Boyfriend suggested that we go to pick up his bicycle and borrow his mum's bicycle and store it at his apartment building so it would be eaier for us to go about in town.

Now, I'm all up for riding bicycles cos I know it would be rather fun to bike about and not take the car or walk everywhere (fine, I'm lazy! I admit it!). However, I am NOT good on a bicycle. Never have and I honestly doubt I'll ever master it. I got much better at riding the bicycle when I was working at the Old Phuket cos I would borrow the bicycle of the Head Housekeeper's son and just go cycling about.

Fine, practice makes perfect. I KNOW.

So anyway, I may have gotten much better at riding the bicycle (took me months to actually learn how to make a circle without falling over. I am THAT bad) but it took a LONG time and Praisie close to me to actually dare to venture out further than the small tiny lane the I live in.

So back to his mum's house. We take the bike and I get quite a shock. I look at the bicycle that I'm supposed to ride and it's a nice lady's bicycle except for one thing.

It is one mother MONSTER of a bicycle.

The seat is so high up, my damn butt couldn't even reach it. The handlebars almost reach up to my shoulders and I must say I'm not exactly a short person. And I'm not even gonna try to analyse the size of the wheels. Let's just say they are holy s*** big. Much much bigger than I am used to. According to darling dear, these wheels are bigger cos they are the ADULT bicycle wheels. Turns out, what we count as normal sized wheels in Singapore and thailand are considered children's wheels here in Sweden.

SHITE.

I turn to look at his mum who's a small lady and shorter than me and in my head I can hear the screams,

'HOW THE HELL DOES SHE RIDE THIS TRUCK ON 2 WHEELS?! IT DEFIES LOGIC!'

So anyway, I try to be a sport and give it a go riding the thing. But not before turning to the Boyfriend and whining that I won't be able to. He, of cos, turns to me says 'Of cos you will, honey' and promptly turns his attention back to whatever he had been doing.

Great.

I have a VERY supportive boyfriend who has an illogical amount of confidence in me. I am SO lucky.

So I try riding the thing like how I normally ride a bicycle. Bad idea.

I almost fall over to the side and barely stay upright (not without a great deal of pain to my butt, thank you very much). I don't even know why I am surprised the bicycle was that heavy. I don't scream too loudly cos i don't want to embarass myself anymore than I already had. After all, his MOTHER is there and it's HER bicycle.

So finally I get the bicycle working (in the sense that I am on it and we are moving somewhere) but then I realise I DUNNO HOW TO STOP! So there I am quickly heading out of the driveway and onto the road and I'm bad at making a bend and worse at stopping on this HUMONGOUS bike. Decisions decisions....Finally took a deep breath and tried to stop. Which I managed to and not without pain. ARGH!

Finally asked the mum to ride the bicycle so i could at least see how she manages to do it. Especially the getting on and off part. And damn if she didn't make it look easy. Child's play even!

I'm so embarassed.

After a while, I kinda get the hang of it and we head out and make our way back to his apartment building. Now, his place is not that far from his parents' house but it's a lot of road for an amateur like me. Let's just say that my hands held on so tight to the handlebars that the knuckles turned white and it looked like I had on a red glove when I finally let go.

It's a real waste that I was so frightened and just focused on getting my sore butt home cos the journey home was really gorgeous. I know cos I pass it many times by car. But being on a bike makes everything seem even closer to you and if I could stop decently, I might have. Just to take in the view and enjoy the cool breeze.

I need A LOT of practice on this bicycle if I'm gonna attempt to get more mobile.

SIGH...My poor arse.

Just know that I love you and I will do all I can to lessen the pain. And think of all the great places we'll both be able to go to once I can ride the bicycle properly.

Just think of now as the difficult journey to a beautiful future.