My story in Singapore is still not resolved, - unfortunately. I keep my heart on the right place about it, stern against being further abused and clear about what was wrong. In the mean while more employees have shifted away from the once red white & pure work environment, even left. We all communicate the raison d’être over the same disappointment; neglect of gratitude. Here Hyzue, I said it! Most stay in contact with each other, sharing now helps healing. A bond in friendship is much stronger and a wise approach; Where are the lessons learned in boot-camp, dear management… seems like not the same ideologies apply to you? On one hand it saddens me, and I feel sorry for the Chinese chef whose promise to study in Singapore vanished and the talented pastry chef with big dreams shattered. I am reaching a stage of comedy about the whole experience, looking back on it and reading the kitchen log books and e-mails exchanged. Baffled about the sheer fact that a beautiful and honorable concept could be so poorly managed. As promised mom and bloggers, I am updating the previous blog as soon the quarrel has been solved. Hold your curiosity in charge for a few more weeks. I had to consult legal advise since the opposing party has now voiced they would withhold shipping my personal belongings back to the US!  Such final decisions reflect about the overall leadership of my dealings and I am astonished that anyone in clear mind would want to have my story in the hands of Singapore authorities. To this day I have not received a voiced or written thank you for all the work I brought forward for red white & pure. (I had to draft my own letter of recommendation… which is now refused to me) - in the end when I expressed my disappointment having to wait six weeks for even receiving an estimate of transfer while rwp housed their employees in my apartment without even compensating me, I kinda blew my horn. None of the people above seemed to realize that my departure was not the result of my work brought onto the tables, it was the consequence of month of neglecting to adjust to the given personal circumstances or draft my requested outline, explain plainly my involvement, respond clearly and meaningful to future plans and DO IT.  Was I employed or not? How did I feel being this ping-pong ball for nine month, left aimless and rather homeless with very little moral support? To even point a finger at me was simply a last abuse of their power and foul play. Now they scream “crime” and talk about me “not liking them”. Heck, I respect all living souls and certainly don’t hate no human being, but I know what right is from left. Oddly they not ever sit back realizing that they should have simply showed gratitude and have the courtesy to make my departure as comfortable as they once promised they would. Impassionedly they complain I’m the culprit. I’m merely doing that exact thing I reckon management has neglected to do for too long: sitting back and realizing what just happened; (thinking) Uh, those menus created as Californian Citizen automatically are my intellectual property… Instead they again postponed and mismanaged everything about my exit to a point my life is in disarray for ten month. Oddly, other parted employees have voiced the exact same reasons for their cast out from an idea we all believed to be a long-term future engagement. But no reaction is indicating anyone of us has reached a management heart. Now the few left above talk to others as if I was not thankful for all they have done. What have you done?… Do they think we’ve all conspired our feelings?  I witness slightly amused about how far they are now dragging this into uncharted waters, claiming their “feelings are hurt”. Such ego-centric perspectives might has blurred their reality of the situation presented.
So I am resting and recovering in Indonesia, meditating and trying to forgive.
Yesterday I went on a road trip through the Jungle Island of Sulawesi. It was most fascinating and eye opening. Somehow ten minutes into the active Volcano mountain regions life was set back decades. The foremost vehicle on the road was a two ox wagon; a medieval surrealistic set back of time and space. I tried plugging the land at one occasion, desperately trying to carve the earth in a straight line to the amusement of the rural farmers. While we taxied from town to town, closer to the edge of Soputan and Loloku Vulcano I put my hands on a clay wheel, picked melon size Papaya from trees and even helped unloading pigs from a ox-truck. But the magical moment was taking a shower from the hot water shooting from the rocks, soft, smooth liquid, the most amazingly refreshing spout! Further up the stream we arrived at Lahendong village the source of the boiling element was the highly active crater mouth of Empung; the smell of Sulfur and Magnesium dominated the steam in the air. Here we boiled eggs and fresh picked corn in the Lava pot boiling violently on the surface! The corn tasted just like the eggs, slightly sulfuric and possible not so healthy.
There is something magical about traveling around and visiting cultures off the “tourist-road”. Unlike most travelers I search for the “normal” life, for the hand-on experience unconcerned about my status nor my past. Within I gain a great insight to the very essence that keeps this people driven. Clearly influenced by Christianity, the Churches and Cathedrals seem the only buildings with tiled roofs in the villages and are plentifully on the most uncommon road bends and hill sides. As much as Burma impressed me as the “Buddhist Country” I am slightly surprised about the deep integrated religious dogma, possibly the only source of hope and motivation living in such isolated and truly plane circumstances. The speakers in each village center screech Government encouragement to “stay together” and “pray together”… Both Volcano’s on each side of the villages are active again and dangerous. The “well-keeper” charged me 10 pennies and did explaine that more often now the water comes quit uncomfortably hot from the undergrounds, something that only happened in the last decades when heavy monsoon rain agitated the hot grounds. A multi colored lake around the bend was too far to stretch the trip before the sun dropped on us and we rolled back home, passing tired but healthy looking farmers and kids screaming “Bulle, bulle” (white skin) and cheered while I shouted back “Tidid Chocolat”… 
I’m back studying for my Dive Master exam, every day a little step forward.  One of my assignments this week was mapping out a wreck that sank in 1945 close to a beautiful coral reef. Diving at 38 meter depth is limiting. I’m fascinated about the multitude of coral growth on the cargo transporter – so much for my ADD - I had a hard time concentrating on data collection. (Or was it the Nitro in my system?)
I am getting used to the underwater camera, once a while in agony, when missing a rare critter or getting a blurry image too faint to explain I did see it… I’m seemingly driving everyone crazy on the dinner table when sharing my impressions, a multitude of information simply overfilling my little head. I sleep well again. I’m so glad to be alive! Greetings from Manado Lagoon.