family rules
I did not wear red for Chinese New Year this year. At the in-laws' reunion dinner, nobody wore red. No pink in sight either. Lots of navy blue.
After the dinner noisynotes and I strolled over to the Marina Bay area. We waited for my parents who was supposed to be waiting for us in the room my brothers and I had booked for them. We would all have been in Bali if my father had been willing to fly. It took one of my brother's honed diplomat skills and at least twenty text messages before my father was persuaded to go for the two-night stay in the hotel. "It's for people who want to see fireworks," he said. "We'll have to eat at the hotel's restaurants. They're already sharpening their knives." (This sounds less sinister in Hokkien.)
With the MTV channel blasting away and some of us making snide comments about this and that pop singer, it felt just like home. My father was demonstrating the Atkins way of eating pineapple tarts. This was a good sign. One of my brothers pointed out that noisynotes looked tired. He had eyebags the size of his carry-on luggage. We decided to skip the fireworks that night.
The next day noisynotes and I visited the in-laws who, incidentally, checked themselves into another hotel in the Marina Bay area after we left. They had been doing this for over ten years, soon after father-in-law's premature death and relations soured with the extended family on his side.
We went home to prepare for a shabu-shabu lunch. We were hosting my parents and brothers for lunch. After lunch we went to the cinema at Marina Square and watched a Hong Kong movie about a police informant who had infiltrated a drug-trafficking group that was not called Wujiandao (Internal Affairs).
It was the first family outing to the cinema since 1980-something when we watched Police Academy 2. My mother wanted to be at the cinema 20 minutes before the screening time because she did not want to miss the trailers. We were the first ones in the cinema hall.
After the film my father said he was hungry so we went to the food court. Everyone ate something except for my father who had a coffee. This could have been a bad sign but it wasn't that day.
We knew that there would be a fireworks display in the Marina Bay at nine o'clock. 20 minutes before that, my parents started checking to see if everything was in place for the fireworks. They knew from the previous night's experience what to look out for. Were the police cars on the Benjamin Sheares bridge? Had the street lights in Marina South been switched off?
When the fireworks went off we were all in front of that window, looking out. They were beautiful, those fireworks.
After the dinner noisynotes and I strolled over to the Marina Bay area. We waited for my parents who was supposed to be waiting for us in the room my brothers and I had booked for them. We would all have been in Bali if my father had been willing to fly. It took one of my brother's honed diplomat skills and at least twenty text messages before my father was persuaded to go for the two-night stay in the hotel. "It's for people who want to see fireworks," he said. "We'll have to eat at the hotel's restaurants. They're already sharpening their knives." (This sounds less sinister in Hokkien.)
With the MTV channel blasting away and some of us making snide comments about this and that pop singer, it felt just like home. My father was demonstrating the Atkins way of eating pineapple tarts. This was a good sign. One of my brothers pointed out that noisynotes looked tired. He had eyebags the size of his carry-on luggage. We decided to skip the fireworks that night.
The next day noisynotes and I visited the in-laws who, incidentally, checked themselves into another hotel in the Marina Bay area after we left. They had been doing this for over ten years, soon after father-in-law's premature death and relations soured with the extended family on his side.
We went home to prepare for a shabu-shabu lunch. We were hosting my parents and brothers for lunch. After lunch we went to the cinema at Marina Square and watched a Hong Kong movie about a police informant who had infiltrated a drug-trafficking group that was not called Wujiandao (Internal Affairs).
It was the first family outing to the cinema since 1980-something when we watched Police Academy 2. My mother wanted to be at the cinema 20 minutes before the screening time because she did not want to miss the trailers. We were the first ones in the cinema hall.
After the film my father said he was hungry so we went to the food court. Everyone ate something except for my father who had a coffee. This could have been a bad sign but it wasn't that day.
We knew that there would be a fireworks display in the Marina Bay at nine o'clock. 20 minutes before that, my parents started checking to see if everything was in place for the fireworks. They knew from the previous night's experience what to look out for. Were the police cars on the Benjamin Sheares bridge? Had the street lights in Marina South been switched off?
When the fireworks went off we were all in front of that window, looking out. They were beautiful, those fireworks.
Labels: personal
posted by wheyface at 11:23 AM
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