Month: June 2011

Mrs. Diplomat 101

I intended to publish my collection of Mrs. Diplomat lessons in celebration of our first year at post. Much to my dismay, our Toshiba netbook decided to expire around its first birthday, and I lost my notes, my planner, my life in the process. Anyway, here are 15 things I recall learning as a year-old diplomat’s wife. 1. Go with Mr. Diplomat when invited (from my previous post Amah, lovely lady, John Travolta and Uma Thurman). I know it gets tiring after some time, but this one is for your own benefit. 2. Check on Mr. Diplomat’s and your appearance yourself (from my previous post Patch of green). Mr. Diplomats are just not wired for this. He is vainer than you are? That’s a different issue altogether. 3. Have high heels at hand (from my previous post The Madam and Royce). You’ll never know when you need to pump your outfit. 4. Have flats at hand. They are your bestfriends after those 3-hour cocktail receptions. Read: High heels. No sitting. 5. Know at least the …

One down

Exactly a year ago, all four of us arrived in Hong Kong on a Cathay Pacific flight armed with just our diplomatic passports and six luggage bags of clothes, diapers and milk. We had no idea as to what size our flat was going to be, so we did not avail of the relocation service and we had no tag-along furnitures nor toys. We landed safely, meaning no throwing up from Little Miss Siu Baau. Well, at least not until we were about to leave our seats. We were the last passengers to exit the tube, where a Protocol Officer was waiting to welcome Mr. Diplomat in particular. We were dressed to impress, although Mr. Diplomat had the smell of chyme up his sleeve. I was thinking then Is this an omen of things to come? Diplomatically speaking, I cannot comment any further wink. A year at post meant having to cover all the basic events we will be attending year in and year out, bingos, concerts, ribbon cutting ceremonies, oath takings, charity balls, national …

Ignorance is bliss

I recently made a mistake of giving Tsuen Wan Line (Red Line) one last chance to redeem itself. It was past 10:00 pm and I was avoiding a longer route as I am pregnant (Yes, another diplobrat is on the way!), so we boarded at Tsim Sha Tsui Station. Prequel As known to most travelers, the MTRs of Singapore have a characteristic smell embedded in its air conditioner filters. Well, I would take that anytime than having someone let out gas inside a train cabin full of people, which is what you are guaranteed to experience at least once every three rides in the Red Line. There was even this one guy seated to my right, on earphones and oblivious to the world, who deliberately lifted his left thigh to let out gas with such freedom. I just had to stand up and move away while Mr. Diplomat can’t help but laugh as I always fall victim to such creatures. It comes out naturally, you might say. Indeed! However, it is at the same time …