(More) ChaletYums

So this is a little difficult to believe, but out of the eight months I have been here, I've only written about the food we eat at home twice. 

Two times.

That's it.

Two times in the course of almost eight months is all I have written. 

How is it possible? 

How is it possible that there has been so meagre I have written? 

Is it because I find some of it difficult to look at?

Is it because during the past few months my heart has not been ready to look at these plain but beautiful plates without feeling a bit of a pang in heart? 

But the time has come that one must, and has to be, thankful.  

It is not because of an obligation.

It is because every single plate here is a reminder that there is a Being who loves me, who provides me with enough manna, who reminds me to live day by day and not worry, who provides me with the help from kind souls when I do need, and who is Faithful according to His Word and His heart.

So here they are.

You know, one thing that I am very glad for is that every plate looks, and feels, different from each other.

Yes, it does take a bit of creativity from time to time, but that is what makes each plate unique, and special on its own.

There are plates here that hold roast chicken bought from the Cold Storage downstairs. Different times, different chicken, but what we do is to split the full sized roast chicken into two, and then, after we've eaten our fill (usually the thighs and wings) keep the breast meat into a box, and cook it a day or so after. 

The chef gets creative when it comes to cooking the breast meat of the chicken. Sometimes there's an egg. Sometimes there's a bit of frozen spinach. Sometimes there's rice with a cupful of chopped onions on the top. But the breast meat always holds the combination of oyster sauce, fish sauce, soy sauce and the like. 

Some plates here hold frozen minced chicken. 

Again the chef gets creative. 

Most of the minced chicken comes with rice, but sometimes there are mushrooms, and I like to add a smattering of mixed herbs that I feel make the plate look happier, and nicer. 

We have had a meal of wagyu beef patty with some leftover vegetables from another meal at the side. What meal that was, I now don't remember, but there was a bit of chicken filet, a single cherry tomato, and some steamed broccoli. The star of this plate was the wagyu beef patty and the homemade truffle mayo sauce that we stirred to eat together with the meat. 

One doesn't think much about it, but having a shallow-fried beef patty all soft and melty and easy to eat really does make for a wonderful, satisfying dinner and an extra memorable meal. 

It isn't all about the blue plates, however.

Past few months too has seen me have a lot of bowls. 

A lot of instant noodle bowls.

Seldom has there been a season in my life where I have that many noodle bowls all at a go. 

Not even when I had bigger packets of Nissin Ramen or Korean Ramyun in the house. 

So this makes for a bit of a season to look back on, and be thankful. 

Instant noodles are, after all, one of the best go-to meals for just about anyone who wants, and needs, to have something solid in their tummies at any time of the day. I don't know how it is with everyone- different people have different preferences- but noodles fill me with a sense of warmth, make me feel like I have eaten something, and leave me feeling more full than before. 

All of my noodles this season are either Myojo or Indomie. 

I eat them dry most of the time, save for one bowl which the chef made specially for me on an evening when I was particularly hungry. 

It is a memorable bowl, one made with soup- I think there was fish sauce and oyster sauce and sesame oil, and he also threw into the pot minced chicken from the freezer. 

My dry noodles are made much simpler. 

What I do is to throw in as much of the packet oil (chili oil etc) as possible, add a little bit of sesame oil, and then stir in as much of mixed herbs as I want to. The herbs don't do a lot, but because I don't put in the MSG seasoning, there is just that extra green taste which does not overwhelm the entire bowl or spoil the light spicy taste of the chili oil. 

New ChaletHouse Vibes

Looking at these pictures now, it is a nothing short of a miracle that all of them turned out well.

Because, I can tell you, the photographer was not in one of her best moods when all these pictures were taken. 

But it was one those afternoons where she felt Chonkycam had been out of action for far too long, so decided it better to let the lens do what it did best than to not do anything at all. 

What's more, the light happened to be exceptionally good, so out from her case she came, onto the balcony she went. 

The glowing gold of the weekend's late afternoon sun bathed the Holiday Inn Express building and apartment building opposite with a glorious light so mesmerizing such as I had all these months never seen before. 

Contrasted with the sky of pure blue, the clouds of clean cotton white, and the holographic tiles of the Roxy building on my side, it made for one of the most unique canvas of colors one could ever see. 

The scenery was surprising. 

I had not known the view would turn out looking this way, much less be in such a glorious wash of color to make a pleasant memory. 

It wasn't just this side facing Marine Parade Road that was beautiful. 

The side facing East Coast Road showed the reflection of clouds and sky on my window, and I decided to leave the screwdriver souvenir at the base of the window there. 

Home itself looked lived in; things here, things there, some things placed at odd angles, others seemingly like they had been just dumped at this corner or the other. 

But in this house nothing is random. 

At least, nothing is permanently random.  

We live in a space where aesthetics and color codes are not key, but neither are things chucked at spaces without purpose. No doubt, some parts of the house look like a mess, but step back, look at it with a different eye and you'll realize that in the chaos there exists an order. In the look of mess, there is categorization, and suddenly, everything- whilst not picture perfect, becomes comfortable, assuring, loved.   

One of the highlights of our home this season was the addition of a movie documentary postcard on the fridge. ITAM was released in Singapore around May or June this year. The timing of this postcard itself is a marker. Long after we've moved out I'll still have this picture of it up upon the fridge accompanied by a memory of how the rest of the house looked like then. 

It was also around this season- May, June- that we discovered it impossible a task to cook in the kitchen. The chef did not like the enclosure of space. He did not like the induction stove being in so near a line of the kitchen bathroom. He did not like the poor ventilation of the space as well. 

So back into the box the induction stove went. 

In place, out came Little Black Grill and Little Blue Pot- both of which we were not going to use in the kitchen, but in the hall, at the dining table, together with the packets of powders already placed there. 

It is 2026.

We have the gear that we don't have to stand inside a dimly-lit kitchen and make our meals. 

We have the gear that we don't have to compromise how we want to cook our food.

There is nothing left to compromise. 

If vegetables need cleaning and cutting, we'll do them in the hall sitting down.

If sauce and marination is needed, we'll mix them in the hall sitting down.

And if we want to fry those steaks that I call fat fat beef in tallow or whatever oil of choice, we'll spatula it in the hall at the dining table sitting down as well.

No need to stand.

That was the plan.

That is still the plan.

We've done a couple of great blue-plate meals using this method since then, and can I say that the food tastes so much better when the chef is more relaxed and happier? 

The rice with frozen minced chicken is seasoned better. 

The noodles bubbling away in the pot added with mixed herbs makes for a more relaxed moment of cooking when the chef doesn't have to keep popping into the kitchen to check on it.

And one can just chuck the tang yuan into the pot and leave it to bob about inside there. 

It wasn't just the Pot and the Grill that came along to make our lives easier. 

The seldom-used balcony also came in incredibly useful.

Not the most flattering nor aesthetic of pictures but, yes, this was the season where I began hanging a couple of T-shirts and trousers there. 

What's funny is that I had not thought I would actually figure out a way to hang these garments up by the balcony door, but having skinny hangers and a semi-sheltered space works and the hot sun, plus natural wind coming in all through morning and afternoon has worked wonders for all the random pieces of clothes that I hang up there. 

I've since learnt not to keep clothes there for too long, however.

Apparently it blocks the inflow of energies. 

Same way too now we have figured out that the best way to keep the space feeling airy and fresh is to open the balcony door when we go out and let the air in. Never mind if there is tropical heat and tropical sunshine. Never mind if there may be rains or winds in the afternoon. The door stays open whenever we're not around. 

At least we come back to a house of flowy energy, not a space of stagnated energy. 

Of course, not everything we've changed. 

There are some things that are still the same. 

Like my desk, which, by the looks of it, hasn't changed much, save for an additional black bag on the right side which I thought was always there, and the bottle of lavender scented SkinCalories face mist that has since shifted down. 

Other than that, nothing else has changed. 

The decor box of pink plastic flowers and the bottle of lavender essential oil spray we place right by the door behind the TV still remain there together with the bottle of cologne.

And we still have a whole lot of coffee and tea at the place in the kitchen where we put our coffee and tea. 

The Sides of Roxy

Not gonna lie, it isn't every day that I get the right frame of mind to take pictures of the place around me.

It's not because I don't see her beauty.

It's also not because I don't see her charm.

It's just that there's always a lot on my mind and I don't look around and about me on the day to day. 

But sometimes- like on this particular afternoon a couple of months ago- I do.  

It was one of those afternoons where I'd decided I was going to take a walk around, so, I did.

My first picture however wasn't of the terrace, or the patio outside, but of the view opposite from the balcony. 

It doesn't look very significant, the sight of the condominiums opposite, but consider that this view is one that can only be seen from a position on this very spot six floors up, that changes everything. 

I'm not quite sure the name of them two towers of white painted residences, but I think they are the Marine Blue condominium, with the western facing wall of The Flow seen diagonally in front of it.

What makes this picture unusual is the angle.

Both properties actually don't stand next to each other, and there wouldn't be such a picture at ground level six floors down.

Can't say the same for the wall outside the balcony though, not when the whole exterior of Roxy I and Roxy II has the same style of tiles shaded with rich colors of seashell holographic especially when seen in the light of an afternoon sun. 

There's something about evening here at Roxy I and Roxy II that makes things look particularly beautiful. 

I'm not kidding.

You don't get the same atmosphere in the morning or in the afternoon.

Maybe the very early morning= I don't know- I haven't had to wake up that early.

But the evenings hit different. 

It is the rays of the late afternoon sun, I should say, that switch up the whole environment. 

I love how they slant so gloriously over the brown tiles of the terrace floor outside.

I love how they cast a special golden glow on the surfaces they land on. 

Suddenly the bicycles under the staircase don't look the same. Suddenly the stuff outside on the wall with the big cupboard and the trolley and the ladders don't look the same. 

Everything gets enhanced, thrown into different perspective, into different light. 

The whole place transforms, becoming calm, pensive, reflective, thoughtful.

I like to think that the evening light grants her a voice of her own that only surfaces during at that time, and not anytime else. 

Someone once told me it were the saturation of the tiles, the richness of the colors. 

It might also have been the structure, the layout, the way the place had been arranged. 

Honestly I don't have the right words to describe it. 

Even after all these months, I cannot determine if the atmosphere is captured by the rich red of the tiles, the way the tall palms with their skinny trunks wave ever so gently in the breezes from the north and south, the sturdy tables and benches, or the slight of green that the bushes and shrubs by the wall hover. 

I just know that there is a quiet strength of beauty about this terrace and patio that is hard to describe.

Sometimes I think of it as a canvas where, with fairy lights and wooden benches the place would look cheerful bursting with energy and life. 

Sometimes I think of it as a space where children might ride a tricycle or adults might play a game of badminton, risking the shuttlecock dropping all the way down.

That, however, doesn't happen, doesn't usually happen. 

She has a quiet dignity, a quiet discipline that makes it difficult to be disturbed, impossible to be intruded. 

That doesn't mean she's not happy, or that she doesn't have character.

No, character is determined by the energy of the people who dwell there. 

It is determined by the personalities of the people who make the place their own. 

Which is why I say that in the last few months she has become more of a canvas than last, especially with her newly fixed ceilings, and her newly painted walls.

ChaletHouse Vibes

Okay, I'm going to have to be honest here.

Out of all three places I have stayed, this one- ChaletHouse- has been the most difficult to write so far.

It's not because the place itself isn't good.

Neither is it because there's nothing good about the place.

It's just that there've been things going on and which- worrier that I am- find it hard to just push through and push on. 

That's always been a problem of mine, by the way- I thought I had it settled late last year- but the first few months of this year have taught me another lesson. 

Manna. 

Daily Manna.

The days of Wilderness have ended, thank God, and it should not be too long before the Promised Land is beneath my feet.

But still, I haven't had the best of moods to write about ChaletHouse as much as I wish to. 

We're four months into our stay here now. 

Very soon another four months will swing by and it will be almost time to leave. 

So now, I suppose, is a good time to write about our stint thus far here. 

To be honest, I have no idea where to begin. 

But let's just say it was a great idea that we worked out how our living arrangements would be. 

Given how the house is designed, whilst some might have felt it best to stick to the norm- where the bedroom, living room and dining areas be appropriately placed, we had thought it wiser to put the bed in the hall together with the desks, the fridge and the dining table. 

Originally in early days we had had the MUJI table placed horizontally alongside the bed, which, as you can see, takes centerstage in the large hall, finally facing the television that in the previous place never saw as much usage as this place now. 

But four months in and the the MUJI table plus bench is sold, gone, and in place we have a sort of movable desk for him, plus a chair that makes one stiff to an extent that I've thrown a cushion on it for the back.

I haven't had a picture of that new desk yet though. 

If you're wondering about such and such an arrangement, no, it doesn't feel awkward- not when the whole setting reminds one of a serviced apartment- just without the modern furnishings, the partitions, the nicety curtains, or cabinets of the kitchenette against the wall. 

One of the greatest charms about this place has to be the balcony. 

We have two- one in the hall, one in the room. 

I don't go to the room balcony much- it holds some foam left behind by the previous tenant- but the hall balcony I go much more.

I comb my hair there.

It's easier to have it fly out than to have the strands flying around.

What I love very much about the balcony is how from one angle it looks towards East Coast Park, and from where I stand I get to see one side of Parkway Center, and the line of trees beyond it. 

Also, the planes.

The planes were one of the things I liked very much about our previous place, and now that I get to see them little red blinking lights at night as they make their descent to Changi Airport, I am thankful.  

There's not very much to see the other side of the balcony, but I think I get to see parts of this condo at Eunos somewhere in the distance. 

In this home here we each have our own spaces.

The desk where I sit doubles up as a dressing table where I spritz the face mist, the body mist, do the lotion and the contact lens. 

It is also where I do a bit of necessary writing and sort through the diary organizer. 

On the shelves above are three fiction books (that I don't dare throw away), two little bags that hold random stuff and my camera equipment, and a couple of boxes that hold my jewelry, makeup stuff, more random girly stuff, and barang barang that I don't use but also don't know why I still have. 

What's changed here is that I've got the diary propped up under the desk lamp where previously I had had it kept slightly out of sight until necessary. 

There is another desk here. 

But it's not mine. 

The (supposed) writing table- so reminiscent of Gonggong's own writing table at Realty Park- holds the printer and the scanner, with my clothes in the box underneath it. 

Yes, I still don't put my clothes in a cupboard. I don't think I have ever hung up my clothes- I can't remember- but for the longest time now they have remained folded- first in a trolley bag that I brought around a lot of places, then afterwards in a box- and since 2023 has been in the very same dark plastic box that holds most of my clothes now. 

Much of our life takes place in the hall. 

Why not, when the dining table is in the hall, when the fridge is in the hall, when the TV and most of what we use is also in the hall?

We sleep in the hall, we eat in the hall, we watch TV in the hall, we work in the hall, and recent times we have begun cooking in the hall as well.

Don't laugh.

That's how we made it to be.

But it wasn't always like this. 

We had actually begun our stint here cooking in the kitchen- induction stove, frying pan, all- but after a few tries the chef said he felt uncomfortable standing over the stove in the kitchen (so close to the bathroom) so we decided we'd shift the cooking out to the hall instead.

Why not?

It's 2026.

We don't have to stick our a** in the kitchen if we don't want to. 

We don't have to stand over a stove in a single place if we're uncomfortable.

Especially since now we've got all the tools to help us along.

I have always believed in the strength of portable, easy to use, plug and play style of cooking utensils. 

Now, more than ever.

So we've brought out Little Black Grill and Little Blue Pot from their boxes, kept the induction stove back into its box, and put aside the pan. Now whenever we want to cook we simply bring either one from its place next to the sink out to the hall. 

So far we've used only Little Black Grill for the shallow fried minced beef and rice.

But I intend to bring out Little Blue Pot for the instant noodles, and the yet to buy char siew paus and siew mais. 

I'd like to try ramen with siew mais and cuttlefish balls again. 

It's been far too long. 

Of course, not being able to cook in the kitchen doesn't mean the kitchen is bad. 

It just means that instead of standing there too long, it is a lot of popping in and out. We stay in there long enough to prep the food, stir in a bit of stuff, throw plates into the microwave or the oven, leave, then come back again. 

Also, it makes for not too bad a storage space- dim and cool- even if the air be a bit too still sometimes. 

On our own shelves we have all our herbs and powders and whatnot. 

We have our minimal bowls and plates and cutlery, as well as a bit of canned stuff that I keep in the drawers but hardly take out. 

Some of the things we hardly use, and hardly see.

Like the food containers and aluminum foils on top of other people's fridge (which, by the way, I never open).

I think I'll pause here today. 

The vibes of Chalethouse ain't finished yet however- there's still the bathroom and the bedroom but I think I'll keep them for another day. 

There may be more to write about, and my brain doesn't have the capacity right now.