growing up gets incredibly difficult as I age …


Same time last year I went beyond with “Go Beyond” … interestingly car marque sure knows how to come up with the most apt taglines. My new baby {the reincarnated Leland as it’s affectionately known} just doesn’t seem right. As if he’d lost the ingredient that gel-ed both of us instantly the first time. I suppose like all Lamas, it does take time and training for them to reach their full potential.
… or maybe it was just a bad decision made in a haste during the worse possible time of the year.

I don’t know. But this much I know: I occassionally regret the decision. I increasingly feel my darling baby Leland is a liability and one of the many unnecessary things that is making it difficult to pack my bags and move on.

Or maybe back in those days, those consulting days, packing  my bag was just a matter of ‘living’ temporarily in a hotel room where everything is taken care off. Where the end date is clearly in sight. Where the goals and delivery were crystal clear.

But this time, it’s different. It’s uprooting and resettling.

There will be real estate agents. Utility companies. Movers. Neighbours to pretend to like. Train routes to learn. Grocer and news agents to get acquianted with … 

Truth is, I had never truly done this before.

Back in Melbourne, jie-jie had been there first. I had a full walk-in wardrobe and pantry when I arrived. For things I wasn’t interested in, they were taken care off with a garage sale she hosted successfully.

Once settled, moving from one apartment of desire to another and eventually the period Victorian home was easy and fun. The latter was a nightmare but a mini project I enjoyed; again with a clear sight of how it would look eventually after the countless of DIY and a fixed time line to complete it before it exchanges ownership again.

But now, oh GOD! there’s the personal tax system that I need to understand as well!!! Possibly the need to appoint a tax consultant too in addition to all of the above.


However, believe it or not, the one thing that’s holding me back from saying “Yes, I’ll sign the dotted line” is:
what will happen to my much awaited “Walkabouts in Balkans” trip later in the year? 
After 5 years here, I have in a way earned my stripe and ‘rights’ to take almost a month off, given that my yearly attempt to introduce sabbatical leave have been repeatedly greeted with a half nod and half smile by the policy endorsers who promptly put a cross across the proposals in their blood red ink markers. That aside KUL-LON-KUL tix and insurance were bought exactly 2 hours 16 minutes before the phone call arrived … the offer than needs an answer sooner than I had thought.
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growing up gets incredibly difficult as I age …
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“Live like a proletariat!” … so says the boss.
And so I did. After psyching myself to be extravagantly and magnamously forgiving and positive.
The ‘challenge’ at hand was to take the Light Rail Transit from Bangsar to KLCC and walk across the block to the office.
What made it super hard was the transition from a Range Rover to public transportation and self powered transit system {legs lah} within a short span of 2 hours in god-awful heels. Whoever invented heels ought to be killed. Brutally.

What made it impossible to comprehend was:

why bother going for lunch at Le Midi then?
The latter still remains to puzzle and nudge me painfully like bits of food lodged between your teeth at the most inappropriate moment. See, the confit de canard {i.e. duck confit or simply the one leg duck preserved and poached in its own fat!} was a disappointment, but logically after the Michellin Star confit de canard in London a few months back, where its tastes continues to linger on in my memory, seducing the tastes buds from time to time, who could top that ever? Especially here. And this leaves me solely to be blamed for such foolishness and stubborness for not going for the lemon butter sole instead.
Anyways, it was 2pm. Friday.
The proletariat experience turned out to be surprisingly not as bad as my vivid mind had imagined!
Well, at least it wasn’t sardine packed and the funny tingling scent mixed with my olfactory mucus was that of a toddler who had possibly thrown up sometime earlier today and a few pre-puberty school boys.
Having survived and love India repeatedly, the “sacrifice” of allowing the driver to go for Jumu’ah was the right choice. But having aged … one’s expectation and perception does take an akward shift.
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And now … time to see my buddy downstairs – finally he got the Pakistani visa sorted!!! and its time to celebrate over some ground roasted beans.

9 thoughts on “growing up gets incredibly difficult as I age …

  1. @ktxI didn't complain wor… errmmmm quite unlike someone I knew who rambled on for an hour over the phone! lolz{big hugs khor khor!!!!}I marvel @ your wife actually – the pain you drag her through. Amazing.@foto.grapherNEVER said I ever wanted to be one wat. only you crazy fellas can do it. anyways with people like you around I where can cari makan???:)photofreakyes? fei lo, got something to say?rofl

  2. luckily i m not as spoilt as u r…i can still get myself squeezed into a busload full of BO drenched guys (packed..not even an inch), a hotel room which u wont imagine, baths with stains, fried rice which is inedible (altho i cant finish), still take the lrt, still opt for public transport, still walk from a station to another if it is not further than 2 or 3 stations using BTS, Bangkok……although at the end of the day…i still complain…..lolz.

  3. Hey Phil, yes we can makan but I ain't flying/driving to Singapore for that. :)How the wifey and now kids?I'm not sure about this move. Just doesn't feel right. Am getting more and more depressed about current state and possibly future state the more I think about it. I think I need a break.Will call you over the weekend. It's been some time.Skype?Cheerio and hugs to all.

  4. errr… Leland = spoilt!We real proletariats don't go around in those earth choking wheels ok???lolLet's makan some time and call me if you want a professional and personal view of relocation. You are absolutely right about it being different to consulting days but I suppose I'm lucky to have my wife settle lots of those domestic issues you mentioned when we relocated. Not having the kids back then helped too.

  5. eh… one does not sell one's soul, life, brain, youth in an organisation without its benefits ok … And no, the Range Rover ain't mine. The suspension really needs some work done … my Leland still sails smoothly…

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