Watched two Mandarin things today... early noon "Taipei Twentysomethings" with G. Pretentious, hollow and too much trying to be "hip". Modellunch (ehehe) of juice in milk, virtuousness in a glass. Summoned J from his cosy cocoon of sleep to the nard, from where we traipsed to the Pan Pacific Hotel for some acrophobic thrills. Dinner Maison Basque with bad Cindy Lauper-esque french pop and a woman trying to pop us some pate. My Babette's menu: Clams in Tomato puree, Braised Duck in olive sauce with beans, bread & butter pudding. J had calamari (very little) in tomato puree, a revoltingly wet sirloin, and he was souffled for $10.00. G ordered tingly guzpacho soup, chicken and a basque pie (half a round of it, actually) with berries. Then "Moving Gods" at Jubilee Hall where we giggled and then were rather taken with the piquant local flavour of the production. Sprightly 80-yr-old actress played mystically earthy goddessy-spirit. Man who acted as taxi driver very convincing. We took lots of pictures too, ehehe. |

Ehehe... yesterday J chauffered us all over the island in search of vanishing cemeteries and vicarious reptiles. Had surreal moment in car, as rain gently whipped the windows, strange frangipani-esque blossoms carpeted the track, and "Sympathique" played in a cracky, belle-epoque way.
Luncheon at Annalakshmi, where I discovered the nectar of the gods in the guise of a date and honey milkshake. J, G, W and I did not really do much, but managed to convince ourselves that we were floating in a fauvist Burmese Dream, tsk tsk. |

Attended, with G, morning concert by Babes Conde and John Lee (brother of the famous Dick, it seems). Babes's fringe-smokey voice agitated in tearing harmony with John's syncopatedly dissipated, purringly sharp instrument. Both touched (grand, thunderingly, and soft, in sweet caress) ivories, John gave a melting rendition of "Life Story" and then they performed "Laughter in the Rain" as a rather nice duet. Then lunch at piscine-smelling Fish&Co. Smelt of fish, did I mention? Nausea. Watched "The Discovery of Heaven" with Stephen Fry, Greg Wise and a certain Flora Montgomery. Nice performances, especially S. Fry as usual, but plot meandering, unfocussed and without punch. Din-din at Wheelock Place where we spoke in a billion accents. |