Eleven months and two days ago, I visited a small snake farm in Bangkok as part of a tacky tourist package that ripped me off. Aside from allowing a local man to wrap a giant python around me for a fee, I also cradled a diaper-clad baby monkey in my arms for the sake of a nice picture I would soon post on Facebook. The monkey held me in a tight embrace and his fur brushing against my neck gave me goosebumps. After a few seconds it lunged at my chest and its hands frantically looked for my breasts. It was hungry. I felt so insulted, but downplayed my hurt feelings because it was pointless: the only witnesses were a white couple and the local man who owned the monkey, its father. And at that moment he could well be my husband, if the monkey really thought I was going to nurse him without objection.

Number 1, I was and still am NOT lactating.

Number 2, I am not a monkey.

Never did I think that I would look back at that time and say to myself "There goes one of the happiest moments of my life." But compared to what I am going through right now, I think I was better off then, in a place where no one knew me and at a time when I couldn't care less about anything.

It's been a year since I have been mistaken for a monkey. By a monkey. Given the circumstances now, I'm more than happy to mother that chimp. Where's that monkey when you need him.

I Understand

Life is so fast-paced in Dubai that sometimes I don't have time to think about how great my December holiday will be, notice that the flat has run out of edible stuff save for rotten veggies at the bottom of the fridge, or even breathe.

I have been suffocating myself for a whole week now. I find it literally hard to breathe. Bad thoughts are the culprit. I have become so negative this week, something that I fear the most. I always fear that I will soon wave a white flag for everyone to see and just resign to the fact that I am bound to be afraid of the future.

But every day friends seem to appear from nowhere and rescue me. In many different ways. By giving me a ride to a very important meeting, buying me cigarettes, treating me to a lavish spa package, or simply saying "I understand".

When I heard someone say that, that he understood, that he knew what I was going through, I tried hard to suppress my emotions, but my tears betrayed me. How often do you hear that here, in a place where most of the time no one bothers to even try to get what someone is saying? When words come out of one's mouth, they vanish into thin air.

It's not easy to try to understand someone. It takes time and patience and a good ear to achieve that. And understanding is not the end of one task as a friend. It is only the beginning of a commitment to go through something together. And that is even more daunting.

This is why I have respect for a person who holds a friend's hand and is not afraid to say "I understand". Because I know the consequences of saying those words. I understand.

As much as I love my K800i, it is no longer working properly.
I will bring it to the service centre and see if the people behind the counter can still revive it.
I would still like to continue using it. It had never let me down until it drowned inside my bag.
My mineral water bottle decided to open itself to keep me from making very important work-related phone calls.

I finally decided to use my Nokia Navigator, after much hesitation.
I never found the need to use a GPS, and always relied on the driver's memory whenever I went somewhere.
Today though, I was pleased at myself for using it.
It told us to make a crucial exit that will take us out of Abu Dhabi and back to our office.
We must have saved an hour because of that turn.

If only I have GPS for everything, a device I can consult when I have to make decisions that would potentially change my life. Should I do this, should I do that, what do I wear, where do I go. Do I make peace with him, do I leave him alone, do I tell him off for being a jerk. Am I finally going on a diet, am I leaving town, am I drinking too much? Are they the ones I should hang out with, am I willing to sacrifice something precious to me for a person who is only a potential mate. Is this place safe, is this thing worth buying, am I not allowed to be sad for a moment. Should I go now, should I leave, should I stay, should I completely ignore it or tackle it head on.

I will never finish. Imagine the thousands of decisions we have to make. Every day.
And it all boils down to our guided (or misguided) judgment.

But maybe this is precisely why I love my K800i. It doesn't tell me what to do.

Good Night

I went home at 4 in the morning, pleased at myself for being extra sociable.
I attended two Halloween parties, not ashamed of being underdressed or irrelevant.

I had to work today and though there was not much to do in the office, I felt tired.
The mere thought (and reality) of being at work on a Saturday consumes me.

I thought a nice dinner with a friend would cap my day, and I would go to bed constipated, dreaming of some toilet action.

But like I always find out, the day is never finished until I close my eyes and start snoring.
At this very moment, a few minutes before bedtime, I find myself listening to a Russian lullaby that is gently putting me to sleep.

Good night!