Wildlife

The braces wearing National Health specs sporting 10 year old and member of the RSPB was unleashed during our first few weeks in Singapore as we saw kingfishers in the gardens around the pool, hornbills in the trees above us and some sort of sea eagle type thingy along with various birds of prey soaring in the skies above our apartment.  It caused such excitement.

That said, like a good sweet juicy mango, these things are all seasonal and I have not seen a kingfisher or a hornbill in four months. 

I have seen two dead mice and a good many pigeons, my London nemesis who have clearly followed me here to make my life an ongoing ducking hell.  Pigeons are like bats.  Bat's we all know pretend they have sonar so we think they are as clever as whales, but like pigeons are unable to fly without brushing your cheek with their diseased wings or take off without caressing the top of your head with their horrid little clubbed feet. 

So, while Singapore probably has one of the best zoo's in the world, free roaming orang-utan's, giant panda's, white tiger's and a host of other wonderful creatures and we had a fortnight of seeing some terrific bird action locally, the last month of my life has been spent dealing with a variety of less welcome infestations.

First we had strange tiny black scarab type beetles all over the place.  They were rather crispy to touch and I spent most of three weeks picking them off cupboards, walls, floors, just about everywhere.  Luckily, I found the source of the problem was the fact they were breeding in the brown rice that clearly cannot cope being stored in the humidity.  In the bin it went.  The little bugs however seem to have made a home for themselves somewhere inaccessible within the cupboard, so we are still seeing them around.

Then we have the giant ants which we traced back to a hollow door frame in the bathroom.  It was quite a shock when I stumbled into the bathroom in the morning half asleep to then relieve myself and find four huge ants in the toilet.  At 6am, it is plausible to think they fell out of your body.

We also have some tiny little itsy bitsy teeny weeny insects that run single file from our balcony into the living room skirting the wall.  They are rather annoying as you don't really want a thousand insects however small in your house.  However we tolerate them as we have noticed they provide a valuable service.  

I live with two nail biters who not only bite their nails but spit them out.  We found a small pile of said bitten nails collected in a heap in our bedroom where these little creatures had collected them. 

My solution to all of this is petroleum jelly of which I am going through tubs.  Blocking up holes, vents and gaps.  So far it seems to be working as we have found a few little bugs trapped like Frodo in Shelob's web.  We leave them there as a deterrent to future insects that try to take us on.  Our own version of the Tudor’s Traitors Gate.

Furthermore, I am sure you are thinking the fact I have these infestations is due to the fact I have a dirty house.  I can happily reassure you that I have a cleaner who comes once a week and does a mostly crummy job.   

Yet, I don't want to be one of those women who is too lazy to do her own housework and then moans about her cleaning lady.  I am so ashamed of my laziness that when she comes over I sit on the balcony with my laptop, phone and iPad and pretend I am a stock broker who works from home.  I even wear my glasses so I look more cerebral.  I sometimes call my husband with regard to something like what we should do for dinner and say a few things loudly in a business voice.  Drop a few "touch bases" and "bathing level reality checks" in for a bit of convincing office bull.  

I am sure she can see through my facade given when she looks over my shoulder I am invariably on Facebook or watching Homeland.

Anyway, the fact of the matter is I do forget occasionally that even though Singapore does have the architecture of Canary Wharf on acid it is still located in South East Asia and Asia is hot and is a playground for the insect world.  It will continue to be a battle ground I fear but as long as the ones who are useful continue being useful clearing up toenails and not getting into my food stores I am happy to share my apartment with them.

The Ubud Crisis

Have you heard of Ubud?  I hadn't, until I read my guidebook to Bali and learned that it was a major artistic and cultural stop on the Bali tourist trail.  

Pictures of Ubud looked wonderful and we were at that point where we had decided that every holiday out here shouldn't just be about the beach. The children are now old enough I feel to be subjected to a bit of culture and Ubud was a short hop from the airport and the beach.  The perfect cultural break for three to four days getting away from the udder sporting Cujo's, hair wraps and leathery skin.  I will leave you to work out whether I am talking about the tourists or the dogs. 

I also learned that Ubud featured significantly in the book "Eat, Pray, Love" and the movie of the same name, which starred Julia Roberts.  I have not read the book but have seen short clips of the movie so I was unsurprised to see the majority of tourists to Ubud were young couples making a little cultural stop, the fledgling writer (as the Ubud literary festival was taking place when we were there) and the remaining 90% of lone forty something pouting women in flowery skirts carrying a big camera with a big lens and strolling around with a wry smile on their faces.

Our main joy on holiday is to people watch.  We get little time for this with the children these days but we are beginning to catch a few opportunities to stare and comment when the kids are goggle eyed playing Angry Birds.   Therefore, how my husband and I hooted with laughter every time we saw the cliche on legs that is a lady on her own wearing a moomoo, carrying a journal and staring into space while eating some nasi campur.

I have to hold my hand up as the most cynical of the Witch and Warlock that we are on holiday, who scoffed about the ladies of a certain age trying to "find themselves" in Ubud. Probably after a divorce, maybe hoping to fall in love with a rugged expat masseuse who has made a serene life for himself in Ubud after throwing in the towel working in high finance in New York and opened up a rustic bed and breakfast looking after people with great hospitality between meditation and toning his finely tanned physique practising tantric yoga.

Yet, after a couple of days of leaving Ubud and arriving in Sanur which was the sun and sand end of our trip to Bali I really was yearning for Ubud.  And that was because I am nearly forty and I do really like massages and taking photographs and strolling and shopping in markets for colourful skirts and tiny bottles of perfume made from local flowers and if I could find a partner who would at least be willing to do yoga with me than ask whether he should take his Kindle to his first massage I would most certainly jack in my current life and run off to Ubud for a wonderful, beautiful, cultural and peaceful midlife crisis. 

I mean, if you are going to have a nervous breakdown, you might as well do it somewhere pretty.