View from the hotel on Stamford Road after midnight.
Sportists, a French dance-sports-hiphop outfit at the Sony-Ericsson event. The one on the left reminds me of Guga Kuerten, or maybe it’s just the bandana.
Dunking is impressive in the context of a tough basketball game, especially if it’s the game-winning last-second shot, but with trampolines it’s just showing off.
The roast pork at La Forketta in Dempsey Hill, washed down with a good Barolo. Excellent and lethal, will lay off food for a while. Many of the staff at La Forketta are Pinoy. One of the great things about meeting Pinoy OFWs in restaurants and hotels all over the world is that you have inside information on what’s really good on the menu. At a buffet yesterday afternoon a Pinoy server discreetly warned us of the fake adobo (looked like adobo, tasted like cardboard).
After this trip I’m going to quarantine myself to make sure I haven’t caught anything pandemicky. It’s not so much the illness that worries one as the embarrassment. That’s why the media has taken to calling it H1N1 instead of its original piggy name, which sounds like a judgment on the afflicted (‘You must’ve brought it on yourself by eating a giant slab of roast pork that was crunchy on the outside and tender on the inside.’)