Insects, insects....as we travel along the freeway, numerous members of the insect kingdom hurl themselves on to the front of the all-wheel drive, splattering their bits and limbs on the bonnet, the grill and the windscreen mirror. We as humans head in one direction in speeds faster than we can physically manage ourselves, and we meet against these flying creatures also moving in a hurry through the air - except that they are in the opposite direction, and they collide not with us, but with our metal, glass and plastic structures that we protect ourselves in.
Insects also come out in colony groups in this warm season - whether they be scrambling on our ceilings, walls and shelves, or weaving sticky webs that are as strong as Velcro - as we humans congregate into shopping centres for the sales or in front of strangers' houses to admire their Christmas lights. If one were an insect, then one could have an overview of the endless line of vehicles along the major highways of the nation - if one kept high enough and did not fly into such a vehicle first. South of Wollongong is the gloriously beautiful and relatively inexpensive South Coast of New South Wales - and escapees from the Big Smoke lined up patiently in the sun to get to their cabins by the ocean.
And then there are the double demerit points for licenses of drivers over the festive season, stretching over two weeks. No such penalties are imposed for Melbourne Cup Day, or sports game finals, but come long weekends with a public holiday thrown in, main arteries are monitored with the dread of losing one's driving license and a couple of hundreds of dollars in fines.
Maybe this is all necessary. The interesting mixture of alcohol, seafood, fruits and a laid back atmosphere should induce one to a cosy nap in bed. However, many have to drive long distances, to catch up with in-laws, loved ones or just fulfil the need for a sheer physical escape - and this means jumping into the car, ute or motor bike. Along the way, groups settle for fast food, with all its additives and hyperactive potential.
Instead of snow storms, stranded passengers at airports and scurrying neighbours all decked up in extra clothes, an Australian Christmas offers long days of watching cricket; sunshades, board shorts and singlets; surf, barbies and stubbies; carolling under tropical-like sunsets; reunion gatherings with really non-Christmassy fare; and practically days of forgetting about our other existence. Maybe the hordes of insects are also rushing for the same things as us, activated by the humidity and heat, but at least they are not vulnerable to double demerit points.
As for me, once I had found a quite moment, I had settled down to an anime session of "Howl's Moving Castle' on the telly. I was munching cherries, grapes, plums, nectarines and R2E2 mangoes - hey sunset was late in the evening. That to me defined the meaning of being "switched off" - after a perfect summer's day with friends.
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Friday, 28 December 2007
Wednesday, 26 December 2007
Happy Holidays!
Every year, when I get my new manual diary, I cannot wait to browse through the information section of public holidays declared in various countries of the world. Globalization has dictated that we share so many common, international holidays, perhaps set in place by history and domination of some cultures over others. What are more fascinating are the unique holidays that distinguish specific countries and regions.
It is interesting that what is mostly accepted as the universal New Year’s Day is actually called the Gregorian New Year in the Indian sub-continent. Even Orthodox Christian countries like Greece and Russia, utilizing a separate calendar for religious purposes, join in the 1 January celebrations. The Lunar New Year in east and south-east Asia provides a minimum of two government-recognized holidays, if not more.
It is natural that festive seasons and holidays reflect the requirements of the contemporary majority and dominant ruling groups. Catholic significant days are declared rest days in countries like Brazil, Italy, Ireland and the Philippines. Under Communist rule for almost the past 60 years, China had sanctioned only commemorations of a socialist nature and until recently, tried to suppress five thousand year old cultural festivities. It is interesting and reflective of transformative changes in contemporary China that the Dragon Boat Festival is going to be declared a public holiday. Pockets of immigrant Chinese societies overseas have always privately marked these cultural festivals, holiday or not. Indonesia finally recognized a nation-wide public holiday for the Chinese New Year after the tumultuous riots of 1998.
National Days naturally form the centerpiece of a country’s menu of pride. They may not call it Independence Day, as on the fourth of July in the United States, but come with different names – Freedom Day, Canada Day, Australia Day, Bastille Day and Republic Day. Lesser holidays mirror the country’s political constitution or social hierarchy. Malaysia has a limited holiday for each of its constituent states to honor the birthdays of the various Sultans or Governors. The USA remembers Martin Luther King, veterans and Columbus, while Argentina has a special day reserved for General Jose de San Martin. Belgium has Flemish and French Community Days. Japan officially acknowledges greenery, children and culture on separate days, while South Africa gives pride of place to human rights, women, Africa, youth and a Day of Goodwill.
Which countries have the most holidays? Perhaps they are Brazil and Malaysia, both on the equatorial belt. Countries with the least number in this category tend to be developed Western nations. In the face of increased number of cultural groups residing in each country, are we going to face more demands for more public holidays to reflect demographic changes? Is Canada going to declare Chinese New Year as an official holiday? Singapore has allotted at least a public holiday to mark the major cultural festival of each of its main racial groups and surprisingly still maintains a minimum of annual days off.
Birthdays of admired saints have traditionally provided the rationale for holidays in the Christian world, for example St Stephen, St Catherine and St Patrick. The United Kingdom, Taiwan and Australia have Bank holidays. Some European countries, like Denmark and the Czech Republic, start the merry season earlier by having Christmas Eve off from work. Epiphany is alive and well in Germany, Italy, Austria and Greece. Japan, Korea and Taiwan may have been the first collective greenies, even before tree planting became more fashionable, by having Arbor Day holidays. Wartime sentiment to honor defenders of freedom is also held strong by countries like Belgium (in Armstice Day) and Australia (in Anzac Day).
As we move on to the New Year festivities, what tends to be forgotten are holidays that are no longer sanctioned. Whether these belong to former colonial powers from the 19th and 20th centuries, or limited occasions belonging to dwindling populations of aboriginal natives, public holidays, like history, are written into our social and political fabric through the changes of time, tide and triumph.
It is interesting that what is mostly accepted as the universal New Year’s Day is actually called the Gregorian New Year in the Indian sub-continent. Even Orthodox Christian countries like Greece and Russia, utilizing a separate calendar for religious purposes, join in the 1 January celebrations. The Lunar New Year in east and south-east Asia provides a minimum of two government-recognized holidays, if not more.
It is natural that festive seasons and holidays reflect the requirements of the contemporary majority and dominant ruling groups. Catholic significant days are declared rest days in countries like Brazil, Italy, Ireland and the Philippines. Under Communist rule for almost the past 60 years, China had sanctioned only commemorations of a socialist nature and until recently, tried to suppress five thousand year old cultural festivities. It is interesting and reflective of transformative changes in contemporary China that the Dragon Boat Festival is going to be declared a public holiday. Pockets of immigrant Chinese societies overseas have always privately marked these cultural festivals, holiday or not. Indonesia finally recognized a nation-wide public holiday for the Chinese New Year after the tumultuous riots of 1998.
National Days naturally form the centerpiece of a country’s menu of pride. They may not call it Independence Day, as on the fourth of July in the United States, but come with different names – Freedom Day, Canada Day, Australia Day, Bastille Day and Republic Day. Lesser holidays mirror the country’s political constitution or social hierarchy. Malaysia has a limited holiday for each of its constituent states to honor the birthdays of the various Sultans or Governors. The USA remembers Martin Luther King, veterans and Columbus, while Argentina has a special day reserved for General Jose de San Martin. Belgium has Flemish and French Community Days. Japan officially acknowledges greenery, children and culture on separate days, while South Africa gives pride of place to human rights, women, Africa, youth and a Day of Goodwill.
Which countries have the most holidays? Perhaps they are Brazil and Malaysia, both on the equatorial belt. Countries with the least number in this category tend to be developed Western nations. In the face of increased number of cultural groups residing in each country, are we going to face more demands for more public holidays to reflect demographic changes? Is Canada going to declare Chinese New Year as an official holiday? Singapore has allotted at least a public holiday to mark the major cultural festival of each of its main racial groups and surprisingly still maintains a minimum of annual days off.
Birthdays of admired saints have traditionally provided the rationale for holidays in the Christian world, for example St Stephen, St Catherine and St Patrick. The United Kingdom, Taiwan and Australia have Bank holidays. Some European countries, like Denmark and the Czech Republic, start the merry season earlier by having Christmas Eve off from work. Epiphany is alive and well in Germany, Italy, Austria and Greece. Japan, Korea and Taiwan may have been the first collective greenies, even before tree planting became more fashionable, by having Arbor Day holidays. Wartime sentiment to honor defenders of freedom is also held strong by countries like Belgium (in Armstice Day) and Australia (in Anzac Day).
As we move on to the New Year festivities, what tends to be forgotten are holidays that are no longer sanctioned. Whether these belong to former colonial powers from the 19th and 20th centuries, or limited occasions belonging to dwindling populations of aboriginal natives, public holidays, like history, are written into our social and political fabric through the changes of time, tide and triumph.
Sunday, 16 December 2007
KL in Parramatta
A close family friend had organised and shouted a sumptuous dinner last night in a quiet corner of one of Sydney's booming and growing shires, Parramatta. Bordering the now famous Bennelong electoral constituency which recently cost a long standing Australian Prime Minister his seat, Parramatta is the fifth largest growing urban concentration in the Australian economy - after Sydney, Melbourne,Brisbane and Newcastle, and churning a GDP by itself faster than Adelaide,Cairns, Hobart and Darwin.
The day had been dry hot, averaging thirty degrees Celsius and I had been looking forward to some spicy-kick food. A new set-up called Kuala Lumpur Malaysian Cuisine had been established near a primary entrance/exit of the rail station, with a menu that reflects the multi-cultures of the homeland of most of the diners. Cooked by ethnic Chinese, my group of 13 persons could sample the variety of dishes offered, including Penang char koay teow; chicken rendang; bean sprouts stir-fried with salted fish bits;tofu steamed with minced pork; sago dessert soaked in Malacca palm sugar and coconut milk; squid dry curry; whole fish deep fried in sour and hot curry; Hainan styled chicken with flavoured rice; and Chinese-styled spinach.
I could have been in a restaurant in Petaling Jaya or one of the Klang Valley suburbs surrounding the Malaysian capital. The key to Malaysian cuisine is the texture and vitality of the many ingredients and sauces that go into the marination of a dish. The freshness of the curry, or the smoothness of the meat or veg cut in different ways, are important indicators. There is more preparation work, the aroma of the right herbs does help and the mood of the chefs do infuse into the final product served. Having said that, I was very satisfied with two dishes - subtle egggplant and the delicate thin pig slices served with onion and a certain Beijing marinade - at a modest joint, Hangfu, along Parramatta's George Street for lunch the same day. The care and love that went into these two dishes showed throughout.
Back in KL, the waiters and the commercial cooks these days are mostly of Burmese, Bangladesh or Indonesian origin. In Australia, we still get ex or transplanted Chinese-Malaysians running the kitchen and the tables. Food is a passion with my dining companions that evening - whilst eating the food, we talked about food, we compared rival outlets and we analysed the things that went into the dishes served in front of us.
The day had been dry hot, averaging thirty degrees Celsius and I had been looking forward to some spicy-kick food. A new set-up called Kuala Lumpur Malaysian Cuisine had been established near a primary entrance/exit of the rail station, with a menu that reflects the multi-cultures of the homeland of most of the diners. Cooked by ethnic Chinese, my group of 13 persons could sample the variety of dishes offered, including Penang char koay teow; chicken rendang; bean sprouts stir-fried with salted fish bits;tofu steamed with minced pork; sago dessert soaked in Malacca palm sugar and coconut milk; squid dry curry; whole fish deep fried in sour and hot curry; Hainan styled chicken with flavoured rice; and Chinese-styled spinach.
I could have been in a restaurant in Petaling Jaya or one of the Klang Valley suburbs surrounding the Malaysian capital. The key to Malaysian cuisine is the texture and vitality of the many ingredients and sauces that go into the marination of a dish. The freshness of the curry, or the smoothness of the meat or veg cut in different ways, are important indicators. There is more preparation work, the aroma of the right herbs does help and the mood of the chefs do infuse into the final product served. Having said that, I was very satisfied with two dishes - subtle egggplant and the delicate thin pig slices served with onion and a certain Beijing marinade - at a modest joint, Hangfu, along Parramatta's George Street for lunch the same day. The care and love that went into these two dishes showed throughout.
Back in KL, the waiters and the commercial cooks these days are mostly of Burmese, Bangladesh or Indonesian origin. In Australia, we still get ex or transplanted Chinese-Malaysians running the kitchen and the tables. Food is a passion with my dining companions that evening - whilst eating the food, we talked about food, we compared rival outlets and we analysed the things that went into the dishes served in front of us.
Monday, 10 December 2007
Ridges Street
In the dusk hours, it had a certain charm, especially when the harsh light of direct sunlight had ceased. Walking in the grey blueness of this short road, we felt the peculiar attraction of Ridges Street. It was a quiet enclave and refuge from the hustle and bustle of surrounding roads and suburbs. Here one can find solace in an old but well maintained church or find delight in the hundreds of photos plastered on the walls of a modest old-styled barbershop operated by George who emphasised his Italian heritage.
Dining at one end of Ridges, we dabbled in Armenian-Lebanese cuisine. The place was full with customers on this weekend evening, with tables laid out in small shop lot reminiscent of the European quarter of Istanbul, rather than North Sydney. The clientele was more Anglo-Celtic than in ethnic Arab Punchbowl of multi-racial greater Sydney. The food was thoughtfully prepared at Safi's. Delicate dips made of chilli, walnut and pinenuts or mild eggplant were a good way of familiarising ourselves with the thin-crust traditional bread. Our group of seven persons ended the dinner obviously full and even the hostess remarked that we were doing "really well" for the amount and variety of food we had. Fresh cuts of capsicum, onion and carrot placed in skewers were what we needed to compliment the well marinated lean lamb steaks. The water pitcher was a curiosity, with a short but effective beak and in the overall shape of a gourd.
Unassuming quiet apartment blocks stood at the northern corner of Ridges, reminding me of a cbd street I visited in Melbourne one Christmas Eve. There was an upper floor tennis centre adjoining a multi-storey car park. Partly commercial, partly residential, Ridges Street encapsulated what North Sydney is. It was easy to find parking even on a Saturday night so close to Christmas. Whilst the retail outlets were mostly closed except for the few restaurants, the church was open and the small units had signs of life from its mostly Gen Y occupiers. Sydney's Harbour Bridge was only five minutes away by car and one could walk to the train station downhill in 5 minutes. What a life, to be chic and cool, living in an oasis so near to Australia's largest city - and one with a harbour view at that.
Dining at one end of Ridges, we dabbled in Armenian-Lebanese cuisine. The place was full with customers on this weekend evening, with tables laid out in small shop lot reminiscent of the European quarter of Istanbul, rather than North Sydney. The clientele was more Anglo-Celtic than in ethnic Arab Punchbowl of multi-racial greater Sydney. The food was thoughtfully prepared at Safi's. Delicate dips made of chilli, walnut and pinenuts or mild eggplant were a good way of familiarising ourselves with the thin-crust traditional bread. Our group of seven persons ended the dinner obviously full and even the hostess remarked that we were doing "really well" for the amount and variety of food we had. Fresh cuts of capsicum, onion and carrot placed in skewers were what we needed to compliment the well marinated lean lamb steaks. The water pitcher was a curiosity, with a short but effective beak and in the overall shape of a gourd.
Unassuming quiet apartment blocks stood at the northern corner of Ridges, reminding me of a cbd street I visited in Melbourne one Christmas Eve. There was an upper floor tennis centre adjoining a multi-storey car park. Partly commercial, partly residential, Ridges Street encapsulated what North Sydney is. It was easy to find parking even on a Saturday night so close to Christmas. Whilst the retail outlets were mostly closed except for the few restaurants, the church was open and the small units had signs of life from its mostly Gen Y occupiers. Sydney's Harbour Bridge was only five minutes away by car and one could walk to the train station downhill in 5 minutes. What a life, to be chic and cool, living in an oasis so near to Australia's largest city - and one with a harbour view at that.
Friday, 7 December 2007
Is The Grass Greener?
Latest statistics on legal migration numbers to European countries reveal 125000 persons moving from Poland to Germany, 89500 individuals leaving Romania for Spain, 62300 persons leaving Romania for Italy and 33,500 former Australians settling in the United Kingdom. 9500 Algerians moved to France, 2500 Brazilians relocated from the tropics to Portugal and 1300 persons came from China to Denmark. Some migration movements seem natural as they involved neighboring countries, like from Sweden to Norway, Ukraine to Poland, Russia to Finland, Germany to Austria and France to Belgium.
Do people move because of the search of a better life, better jobs or returning to similar shared cultures? Romania is the single country in the European Continent with the largest emigration. The destination countries for Romanian immigrants all have a better economic and social quality of life. Does the high value of the British pound induce Australians to forsake blue skies and better meat to come to the inclement weather of the British Isles? Why do people travel so far to start a new life? 4800 Russians moved to Greece, possibly for the warmer Mediterranean weather. The outstanding recipient countries are Germany, Spain, Italy and Britain.
There is easier movement of people and yet at the same time increased border control restrictions apply. Some parts of Europe are seeing a noticeable return of its native wildlife as villages get depopulated. It is also logical to note that some major recipient countries did not have any significant outflows of migrants, for example, Spain, Ireland and Italy. We cannot assume that the ethnic mix of immigrants and emigrants are the same. The changed stratification of particular economies may induce immigration from certain groups, as when different types of jobs are no longer attractive to long time residents of a country, and for the country to practically operate,it is imperative that it open up its borders to people who are willing to perform jobs for which there are serious labour shortages.
When Asians descend on to an European country with a relatively small population, the impact of an obviously different culture can weigh heavily in social interaction. If such an impact is confined to bringing in more outlets of a tasty cuisine, the results can be positive. However, what comes with the food are so-called foreign habits in shopping, crossing the road, driving a vehicle and so forth.
Such contrasting scenarios may not apply when you have 1600 Czechs moving to Slovakia.
Internal movements within the EU can only help in the direction of developing a United States of Europe. The recent numbers do not show strong trends in vertical population movement, like from Scandinavia to the Iberian Peninsular. With some exceptions, most emigrants try to stick within the same climate zone.
Do people move because of the search of a better life, better jobs or returning to similar shared cultures? Romania is the single country in the European Continent with the largest emigration. The destination countries for Romanian immigrants all have a better economic and social quality of life. Does the high value of the British pound induce Australians to forsake blue skies and better meat to come to the inclement weather of the British Isles? Why do people travel so far to start a new life? 4800 Russians moved to Greece, possibly for the warmer Mediterranean weather. The outstanding recipient countries are Germany, Spain, Italy and Britain.
There is easier movement of people and yet at the same time increased border control restrictions apply. Some parts of Europe are seeing a noticeable return of its native wildlife as villages get depopulated. It is also logical to note that some major recipient countries did not have any significant outflows of migrants, for example, Spain, Ireland and Italy. We cannot assume that the ethnic mix of immigrants and emigrants are the same. The changed stratification of particular economies may induce immigration from certain groups, as when different types of jobs are no longer attractive to long time residents of a country, and for the country to practically operate,it is imperative that it open up its borders to people who are willing to perform jobs for which there are serious labour shortages.
When Asians descend on to an European country with a relatively small population, the impact of an obviously different culture can weigh heavily in social interaction. If such an impact is confined to bringing in more outlets of a tasty cuisine, the results can be positive. However, what comes with the food are so-called foreign habits in shopping, crossing the road, driving a vehicle and so forth.
Such contrasting scenarios may not apply when you have 1600 Czechs moving to Slovakia.
Internal movements within the EU can only help in the direction of developing a United States of Europe. The recent numbers do not show strong trends in vertical population movement, like from Scandinavia to the Iberian Peninsular. With some exceptions, most emigrants try to stick within the same climate zone.
Tuesday, 4 December 2007
Return to Goulburn
For a regional town that has experienced the Biblical seven years of drought,Goulburn was blustery shiny on this Sunday morning. More shops were open for business when they were not a few years back. There were the under thirties and a spattering of teenagers walking out and about which is vital to the demographics of any urban concentration. Businesses like Harvey Norman had taken a vote of confidence in Goulburn by occupying that vital corner store location along the main road - when others like Harris Scarfe were before. There was even a spanking new Asian food outlet.
The icon of Goulburn - the Big Merino - had been moved to nearer the Hume highway to Canberra. The other icon of the town - Bryants Pieshop - has steadfastly maintained its two outlets, one in its original shop and a branch at the shopping centre only a block away. The pie varieties remain the same good consistency and in taste. An outlet selling casual wear to Gen Y had a hive of activity near Sunday lunchtime. The RSL club stands right in the town centre and had custom no different from any other suburb of Sydney at this hour on a weekend day.
Are retail outlets opening longer hours on weekends as a result of under sales achievement during the week? Maureen at Allens chats to me and informs me that she has to work when the store reopens after Christmas on Boxing Day itself. She is slightly surprised that I have come all the way from coastal Wollongong with my mates to shop in this inland town about a good 90 minutes drive away. Maureen knows the Wollongong area well - she has a brother residing in Figtree, a suburb south of the university and city. I find a long desired lemon and orange skin zester and Maureen sells it to me at half price.
Houses are offered for sale at a third of Sydney prices. Food prices are the same as in the Big Smoke. There is even a branch of the bookshop chain Berkelouw, for which the only other outlet I am aware of in NSW is in Darlinghurst in Sydney's eastern suburbs. Maybe it is the Christmas shopping season that has contributed to higher than imagined retail activity to me in Goulburn that morning.
By the early afternoon, I am back in Wollongong, washing my car and wondering why the ladies at that particular Shell station along the Hume highway are never friendly. I make an affirmation to stop by the apple orchard and Eling Forest Winery at Suttons Forest the next time I am back on the highway leading to Goulburn. Ever since I spent two weeks based in this town on business several years ago and I have been hooked ever since to make occasional visits. Is it the lure of empty wide misty streets on a cold winter's morning that adds to the fascination I have? In summer it can be extremely hot and dry. I don't really know why, but Goulburn has a irrefutable and inexplicable place in my heart.
The icon of Goulburn - the Big Merino - had been moved to nearer the Hume highway to Canberra. The other icon of the town - Bryants Pieshop - has steadfastly maintained its two outlets, one in its original shop and a branch at the shopping centre only a block away. The pie varieties remain the same good consistency and in taste. An outlet selling casual wear to Gen Y had a hive of activity near Sunday lunchtime. The RSL club stands right in the town centre and had custom no different from any other suburb of Sydney at this hour on a weekend day.
Are retail outlets opening longer hours on weekends as a result of under sales achievement during the week? Maureen at Allens chats to me and informs me that she has to work when the store reopens after Christmas on Boxing Day itself. She is slightly surprised that I have come all the way from coastal Wollongong with my mates to shop in this inland town about a good 90 minutes drive away. Maureen knows the Wollongong area well - she has a brother residing in Figtree, a suburb south of the university and city. I find a long desired lemon and orange skin zester and Maureen sells it to me at half price.
Houses are offered for sale at a third of Sydney prices. Food prices are the same as in the Big Smoke. There is even a branch of the bookshop chain Berkelouw, for which the only other outlet I am aware of in NSW is in Darlinghurst in Sydney's eastern suburbs. Maybe it is the Christmas shopping season that has contributed to higher than imagined retail activity to me in Goulburn that morning.
By the early afternoon, I am back in Wollongong, washing my car and wondering why the ladies at that particular Shell station along the Hume highway are never friendly. I make an affirmation to stop by the apple orchard and Eling Forest Winery at Suttons Forest the next time I am back on the highway leading to Goulburn. Ever since I spent two weeks based in this town on business several years ago and I have been hooked ever since to make occasional visits. Is it the lure of empty wide misty streets on a cold winter's morning that adds to the fascination I have? In summer it can be extremely hot and dry. I don't really know why, but Goulburn has a irrefutable and inexplicable place in my heart.
Monday, 26 November 2007
Food, Politics and Change
I was in the electorate of Bennelong, Sydney when the news came through - a Federal Government which had been in power for around 138 months had been voted out in a sheer process of democracy. Over the delicious Indian rojak salad that cousin Susan and her hubby Boo Ann had prepared, the people in this gathering contemplated the experience of change. A sitting Prime Minister, who perhaps had stayed on for too long, was almost on the verge of being replaced by a fresh newcomer in Bennelong. Political history was being made over the night.
The evening before, in another suburb, I had tried Swiss pizza for the first time, with thinner crusts and more meat. I was not convinced that my group of colleagues were not eating Italian pizza, for how can one separate the two definitions? It was a warm night outside, but we were sitting in air-conditioned comfort. I watched, with intense interest, the goings-on of an open kitchen preparing the food, with the woodfire oven in full view and a fatigued teenager continuing to turn the dough. How can this place be called Swiss Quattro, I thought. The food perhaps reflected the Australian society of today, a fusion of values and cultures. After downing the bruschetta, Ceasers Salad, pasta and pizza, we could dip pre-cut strawberries and marsh mellows with chocolate sauce as if we were having fondue on the mountain slopes near Lucerne.
Recovering on Sunday in Wollongong town with a lunch enjoyed with an ex-colleague, I realised that the flavour of the weekend had been change. It was about actual and contemplation of change. Politics - or basically how those in power run a place -may not be related to the partaking of food, but is perhaps best digested together, for achieving that balance of nourishment for both the mind and the stomach. Three individuals I know, and whom I had met up that past week, were making changes in their lives, one even going inter-state. Do my friends already want to make that change long ago, or were they encouraged in a kind of evolving process? Do people remain in their comfort zone and require to be pushed to change? Or do people refuse to change and push out others who seem be a threat to their presumed existence?
And to celebrate those changes, we had met, over food.
The evening before, in another suburb, I had tried Swiss pizza for the first time, with thinner crusts and more meat. I was not convinced that my group of colleagues were not eating Italian pizza, for how can one separate the two definitions? It was a warm night outside, but we were sitting in air-conditioned comfort. I watched, with intense interest, the goings-on of an open kitchen preparing the food, with the woodfire oven in full view and a fatigued teenager continuing to turn the dough. How can this place be called Swiss Quattro, I thought. The food perhaps reflected the Australian society of today, a fusion of values and cultures. After downing the bruschetta, Ceasers Salad, pasta and pizza, we could dip pre-cut strawberries and marsh mellows with chocolate sauce as if we were having fondue on the mountain slopes near Lucerne.
Recovering on Sunday in Wollongong town with a lunch enjoyed with an ex-colleague, I realised that the flavour of the weekend had been change. It was about actual and contemplation of change. Politics - or basically how those in power run a place -may not be related to the partaking of food, but is perhaps best digested together, for achieving that balance of nourishment for both the mind and the stomach. Three individuals I know, and whom I had met up that past week, were making changes in their lives, one even going inter-state. Do my friends already want to make that change long ago, or were they encouraged in a kind of evolving process? Do people remain in their comfort zone and require to be pushed to change? Or do people refuse to change and push out others who seem be a threat to their presumed existence?
And to celebrate those changes, we had met, over food.
At Home
I love chicken curry, South Indian style – smooth aromatic gravy over juicy meats marinated in the flavours of several spices, chillies and seductive coconut milk. A sister of a Portuguese mate living in Wollongong remarked that she could not understand why I put potatoes in the curry mix and then serve them with rice – a double whammy of carbohydrates that bewildered her logic.
The curry I learnt to cook comes from Mum, who experienced a forerunner of current Australian multiculturalism by sharing and exchanging recipes with her cosmopolitan neighbours in the tropical heat of Malaysian afternoons. It took me perhaps a quiet weekend in summery New South Wales to realize why she and I – plus the multitude of others stirring up Tamil-styled chicken curry in the former Malayan peninsular – had put both potatoes and rice in the same meal.
The British had ruled Malaya in colonial days, and it dawned on me that they had been raised on potatoes and bread. Savoury, well-textured potatoes must have been hard to come by, more difficult than the flour and yeast to make bread. So whilst their house keepers in the humidity of their outpost dished up what they knew best – their childhood curries – the masters also yearned for their own comforts of childhoods past.
Sydney, and most of New South Wales, continue to perpetuate in the nether zone of no or little rain, despite cloudy overcast days and some unusual of rain. It has been several years that water use restrictions have been imposed, and now it has grown worse to restricting hand-hosing gardens on two days of the week, before 10am and after 4pm. The idea is not to think so much of watering lawns as to find more sources of water for household use. In my corner of Australia, tucked between rising hills and miles of beaches, many families have installed rain water tanks so that they escape the legislated water use restrictions. The question is whether the skies do allow sufficient water to pour down to be collected in such tanks, but I admire the spirit of my regional neighbours.
So my garden in Balgownie has to be in tune with these water-conscious times. Maybe not. My front patch, outside the bay windows, is an attempt of a microcosm of Australian flora from Darwin to Hobart. There is frangipani, more at home facing the Arafura Sea; jade-like leaves of native succulents that thrive on benign neglect and little rain; cane palms; green and gold coloured coastal bushes; and pink flowering geraniums. In contrast at the back of the house, where bedroom windows face, are aromatic plants covering a spectrum of mint, basil, chillies, chiam hong, curry leaf, strawberry and parsley. The garden bed facing the lawn and lounge houses what I think are really useful growth – aloe vera; deep yellow and iceberg red roses; kumquats, Tahitian limes and Imperial mandarins in a citrus-related collection; chrysanthemums; ornamental red and yellow small chillies; daun gaduh; and some red and pink boundary blooms of a plant that seems to flower the year round. There is another patch with work-in-progress but now viewed with a flowering theme in mind – hibiscus, bougainvilleas, geraniums and some native wildflowers.
The curry I learnt to cook comes from Mum, who experienced a forerunner of current Australian multiculturalism by sharing and exchanging recipes with her cosmopolitan neighbours in the tropical heat of Malaysian afternoons. It took me perhaps a quiet weekend in summery New South Wales to realize why she and I – plus the multitude of others stirring up Tamil-styled chicken curry in the former Malayan peninsular – had put both potatoes and rice in the same meal.
The British had ruled Malaya in colonial days, and it dawned on me that they had been raised on potatoes and bread. Savoury, well-textured potatoes must have been hard to come by, more difficult than the flour and yeast to make bread. So whilst their house keepers in the humidity of their outpost dished up what they knew best – their childhood curries – the masters also yearned for their own comforts of childhoods past.
Sydney, and most of New South Wales, continue to perpetuate in the nether zone of no or little rain, despite cloudy overcast days and some unusual of rain. It has been several years that water use restrictions have been imposed, and now it has grown worse to restricting hand-hosing gardens on two days of the week, before 10am and after 4pm. The idea is not to think so much of watering lawns as to find more sources of water for household use. In my corner of Australia, tucked between rising hills and miles of beaches, many families have installed rain water tanks so that they escape the legislated water use restrictions. The question is whether the skies do allow sufficient water to pour down to be collected in such tanks, but I admire the spirit of my regional neighbours.
So my garden in Balgownie has to be in tune with these water-conscious times. Maybe not. My front patch, outside the bay windows, is an attempt of a microcosm of Australian flora from Darwin to Hobart. There is frangipani, more at home facing the Arafura Sea; jade-like leaves of native succulents that thrive on benign neglect and little rain; cane palms; green and gold coloured coastal bushes; and pink flowering geraniums. In contrast at the back of the house, where bedroom windows face, are aromatic plants covering a spectrum of mint, basil, chillies, chiam hong, curry leaf, strawberry and parsley. The garden bed facing the lawn and lounge houses what I think are really useful growth – aloe vera; deep yellow and iceberg red roses; kumquats, Tahitian limes and Imperial mandarins in a citrus-related collection; chrysanthemums; ornamental red and yellow small chillies; daun gaduh; and some red and pink boundary blooms of a plant that seems to flower the year round. There is another patch with work-in-progress but now viewed with a flowering theme in mind – hibiscus, bougainvilleas, geraniums and some native wildflowers.
Thursday, 22 November 2007
A Traveller's Life
The only three essential things to have, when travelling, are having sufficient money, authorised passports if you cross different countries and the right tickets at the required time. Beyond those basics, what is really important is a sense of adventure, humour and friendship.
I was in Rome when I thought I was being ripped off for a transaction. A well dressed lady approached me and the vendor and helped settle the misunderstanding. In Shanghai, I knew I did not have sufficient speaking grasp of standard Mandarin and went to a MacDonalds outlet along Nanjing North Road to get some change in currency -as they spoke English there. In the darkening forests near a lake in New Zealand's South Island, I temporarily got lost on the walking trail but got back to the known, through some benign force.
At Kobe in Japan, I befriended a local motor bike rider who was coming on the same overnight ship to Oita on the southern isle of Shikoku. In Koh Samui,life was so easy going no battered an eyelid when the testicles of a Brit backpacker hung out through in front of everyone of us in a small group having an islander's breakfast at the beach. I saw snow flakes for the first time in the mountains near the Swiss-French border and that was a wonder for someone originally from the equatorial regions.
I realised in my sojourn through the European continent that Chinese restaurants had tables of six, eight or ten in different countries, but never four. Greek food was really salty, but I did think of why anyone would leave Santorini for Melbourne. I recall with fondness how a good mate of mine from uni days and I were confined to free Auckland accommodation (courtesy of Air New Zealand) for two nights due to Typhoon Bola. I enjoyed the Lebanese spread one dinner time on a wintery night in Canberra because a nice colleague took me there.
On the way to the Phi Phi Islands off Phuket, my fisherman's boat encountered a storm, accompanied by the expected choppy waters. Through another benevolence, the boat boy and I managed to reach the safety of the lagoon village. Outside Nanjing, my commercial tour bus coach broke down for a few hours, but I appreciated better what it meant to be a farmer in China. On a summer's evening in Tassie, I got lost driving with a Singapore friend along a remote road, but we managed to get the right road instructions from a group of elderly walkers.
In Seoul, I was invited to an English-language focus group meeting after I chatted with someone off the street. My Singapore friends in turn do take time off to spend time with me when they hear that I am in town. I woke up one night in windy Welington and had to go to an ice-cold toilet, but found out later the next morning that fellow travellers also faced the same dread. Travel can be infectious, but so can be the sharing of experiences, with hindsight and lots of laughter! People who seem to be strangers just turn out to be indiviudals whom we are yet to know.
I was in Rome when I thought I was being ripped off for a transaction. A well dressed lady approached me and the vendor and helped settle the misunderstanding. In Shanghai, I knew I did not have sufficient speaking grasp of standard Mandarin and went to a MacDonalds outlet along Nanjing North Road to get some change in currency -as they spoke English there. In the darkening forests near a lake in New Zealand's South Island, I temporarily got lost on the walking trail but got back to the known, through some benign force.
At Kobe in Japan, I befriended a local motor bike rider who was coming on the same overnight ship to Oita on the southern isle of Shikoku. In Koh Samui,life was so easy going no battered an eyelid when the testicles of a Brit backpacker hung out through in front of everyone of us in a small group having an islander's breakfast at the beach. I saw snow flakes for the first time in the mountains near the Swiss-French border and that was a wonder for someone originally from the equatorial regions.
I realised in my sojourn through the European continent that Chinese restaurants had tables of six, eight or ten in different countries, but never four. Greek food was really salty, but I did think of why anyone would leave Santorini for Melbourne. I recall with fondness how a good mate of mine from uni days and I were confined to free Auckland accommodation (courtesy of Air New Zealand) for two nights due to Typhoon Bola. I enjoyed the Lebanese spread one dinner time on a wintery night in Canberra because a nice colleague took me there.
On the way to the Phi Phi Islands off Phuket, my fisherman's boat encountered a storm, accompanied by the expected choppy waters. Through another benevolence, the boat boy and I managed to reach the safety of the lagoon village. Outside Nanjing, my commercial tour bus coach broke down for a few hours, but I appreciated better what it meant to be a farmer in China. On a summer's evening in Tassie, I got lost driving with a Singapore friend along a remote road, but we managed to get the right road instructions from a group of elderly walkers.
In Seoul, I was invited to an English-language focus group meeting after I chatted with someone off the street. My Singapore friends in turn do take time off to spend time with me when they hear that I am in town. I woke up one night in windy Welington and had to go to an ice-cold toilet, but found out later the next morning that fellow travellers also faced the same dread. Travel can be infectious, but so can be the sharing of experiences, with hindsight and lots of laughter! People who seem to be strangers just turn out to be indiviudals whom we are yet to know.
Life In A Pond
Below Mount Keira
Twice at mid-day they scurried across the grass and footpath from one pond to the next. In two separate groups,they represented two different generations of the protected species dwelling in the reserve where my office is located. At dawn, I can see them lying on the slopes surrounding the pond, in couples or in family groups. I think these ducks live in a world of their own, but they are not oblivious to the on-goings of other denizens who share their environment.
There are many different types of ponds on Earth, the biggest being the planet itself. However, most of us have carved out niches and perspectives according to the requirements and pleasures of the specific ponds we choose for ourselves. Some of these ponds need not be side by side, but they have to be connected, whether in belief, physical facility or cyberspace. Some ponds remain in a corner of a part of the world. There are systems and ways of behaviour in each pond - they can involve rituals, laws or a relative sense of freedom, self-imposed or regulated by those in power by sheer majority or ownership of controlling tools. Although most recognise the concentric circle nature of such social pond structures, some choose to succumb to the realities of limited ponds, and others thrive in moving flexibly from pond to pond. Yet others yearn to return to the pond of their birth, or their forebears do so.
Individuals do get yanked from the pond of their comfort to new, alien communities. The new ponds may not even offer the same quality and conditions of sustaining water.
Many yearn for ponds which they see beyond the horizon or have not visited but have heard about. Others do not believe at all in changing ponds and cope with whatever comes in the pond of their birth, come hell or high water. An individual's preference can be an aversion to another. Increasingly, large or small ponds - depending on how they organise themselves - are becoming fused with cultures and thinking amalgamated from the influx of various migrants from other ponds.
I think of the ducks outside my University office. There seems to be a leader to lead the convoy of fast-paced ducks crossing from one pond to the other. There are the followers, all lined up in a straight order of things. There is the deep sense of joy splashing in the water once they have reached the safety of the destination pond. The ducks happily splash their feathers in the otherwise still water. New generations are born and someone always keep watch over the group. To outsiders, it may look like a placid and serene life. I am sure they have their share of political drama, personal feelings and social togetherness.
The only difference between their and our human ponds is that we have better ways of transversing between our network of ponds.
Twice at mid-day they scurried across the grass and footpath from one pond to the next. In two separate groups,they represented two different generations of the protected species dwelling in the reserve where my office is located. At dawn, I can see them lying on the slopes surrounding the pond, in couples or in family groups. I think these ducks live in a world of their own, but they are not oblivious to the on-goings of other denizens who share their environment.
There are many different types of ponds on Earth, the biggest being the planet itself. However, most of us have carved out niches and perspectives according to the requirements and pleasures of the specific ponds we choose for ourselves. Some of these ponds need not be side by side, but they have to be connected, whether in belief, physical facility or cyberspace. Some ponds remain in a corner of a part of the world. There are systems and ways of behaviour in each pond - they can involve rituals, laws or a relative sense of freedom, self-imposed or regulated by those in power by sheer majority or ownership of controlling tools. Although most recognise the concentric circle nature of such social pond structures, some choose to succumb to the realities of limited ponds, and others thrive in moving flexibly from pond to pond. Yet others yearn to return to the pond of their birth, or their forebears do so.
Individuals do get yanked from the pond of their comfort to new, alien communities. The new ponds may not even offer the same quality and conditions of sustaining water.
Many yearn for ponds which they see beyond the horizon or have not visited but have heard about. Others do not believe at all in changing ponds and cope with whatever comes in the pond of their birth, come hell or high water. An individual's preference can be an aversion to another. Increasingly, large or small ponds - depending on how they organise themselves - are becoming fused with cultures and thinking amalgamated from the influx of various migrants from other ponds.
I think of the ducks outside my University office. There seems to be a leader to lead the convoy of fast-paced ducks crossing from one pond to the other. There are the followers, all lined up in a straight order of things. There is the deep sense of joy splashing in the water once they have reached the safety of the destination pond. The ducks happily splash their feathers in the otherwise still water. New generations are born and someone always keep watch over the group. To outsiders, it may look like a placid and serene life. I am sure they have their share of political drama, personal feelings and social togetherness.
The only difference between their and our human ponds is that we have better ways of transversing between our network of ponds.
The News
Why is that the free-to-air TV news bulletins are all presented around the same hour? And why are all pay TV news bulletins repetitive, trying to be more like magazine formats instead of finding their own niche.
Most news stories thrive and aim for the spectacular and the sensational. Is that the only reason why viewers tune in and stay tuned in? Around the world, there is this presumption that the market wants to know about national and local news first, followed by international stories in the middle and then topped up by sports before a filler on arts just when the bulletin ends. News of local interest in Australia aim for those events that find individuals in distress, being treated unfairly or with a surprise element. There are seasonal flavours, those revolving around an impending national or festive holiday, or the monthly timing of political or economic triggers.
The use of live telecasts can get to ridiculous dimensions, as a camera fixated on nothing but waiting for someone to appear.The current trend is to over utilize the term "breaking news", when it is even obvious the news story broke out some time ago and the station had adequate time to prepare for it. "Breaking news" are especially suspicious in timing when placed at the beginning or end of a scheduled news bulletin. The tendency to interview "live" business and financial specialist commentators standing in their cbd offices way past midnite obviously suggests the use of pre-recording mechanisms.
What I still treasure is the late news bulletin for a snappy highlight briefing before we go to sleep. The news webpages can offer perhaps a better summation than listening to someone articulate the leading items verbally, but there is nothing better for me than listening to them in this manner with a nightcap on hand. Many individuals I know get their cyberspace news first thing in the morning over a mobile phone or laptop whilst commuting, but I suggest the best feel good factor first thing in the day is to collectively scan through news highlights on a large lcd screen with the whole family over breakfast.
I buy hard copy newspapers for the glossy magazines they insert in them these days on a regular basis. I believe news should be disseminated on a complimentary basis on the internet, and not on a paid basis - that is why I still appreciate the Sydney Morning Herald and Channel News Asia. Weekend newspapers still are bulky in Australia but I wonder if anyone really has the time to trough through all the sections. To me, selective reading is the way to go, as our cyberspace reading habits merge with non-cyberspace reading patterns in a combined response to the increasing lack of personal discretionary time. Most of the main Sydney and Wollongong newspapers have an internet-styled summary page at the very start to help us navigate through their features and sections.
I know of close mates who do not bother about any news. It may be that the more things are made more easy to get, the more they get ignored. Or perhaps some of my friends are tired of the way the news are dished out. It was very telling when a colleague - Sharon - remarked about the rather bleak and violent content of the world news served every evening by SBS-TV in Australia. It reinforces the perception that outside Australia, everything is depressingly negative and disturbing.
Can I suggest this to each tv station - once a week, for a start, have a 30 minute news bulletin that is arranged in the following manner. Commence with ten minutes of obvious good news, with hope and inspiration. Continue with another ten minutes of the possible good within obvious disturbing stories. Finish up with a quick summary of other news items summarised in internet web style and not detailing too much during the bulletin. End the news bulletin by referring interested viewers to the actual website for the full version of key items.
Most news stories thrive and aim for the spectacular and the sensational. Is that the only reason why viewers tune in and stay tuned in? Around the world, there is this presumption that the market wants to know about national and local news first, followed by international stories in the middle and then topped up by sports before a filler on arts just when the bulletin ends. News of local interest in Australia aim for those events that find individuals in distress, being treated unfairly or with a surprise element. There are seasonal flavours, those revolving around an impending national or festive holiday, or the monthly timing of political or economic triggers.
The use of live telecasts can get to ridiculous dimensions, as a camera fixated on nothing but waiting for someone to appear.The current trend is to over utilize the term "breaking news", when it is even obvious the news story broke out some time ago and the station had adequate time to prepare for it. "Breaking news" are especially suspicious in timing when placed at the beginning or end of a scheduled news bulletin. The tendency to interview "live" business and financial specialist commentators standing in their cbd offices way past midnite obviously suggests the use of pre-recording mechanisms.
What I still treasure is the late news bulletin for a snappy highlight briefing before we go to sleep. The news webpages can offer perhaps a better summation than listening to someone articulate the leading items verbally, but there is nothing better for me than listening to them in this manner with a nightcap on hand. Many individuals I know get their cyberspace news first thing in the morning over a mobile phone or laptop whilst commuting, but I suggest the best feel good factor first thing in the day is to collectively scan through news highlights on a large lcd screen with the whole family over breakfast.
I buy hard copy newspapers for the glossy magazines they insert in them these days on a regular basis. I believe news should be disseminated on a complimentary basis on the internet, and not on a paid basis - that is why I still appreciate the Sydney Morning Herald and Channel News Asia. Weekend newspapers still are bulky in Australia but I wonder if anyone really has the time to trough through all the sections. To me, selective reading is the way to go, as our cyberspace reading habits merge with non-cyberspace reading patterns in a combined response to the increasing lack of personal discretionary time. Most of the main Sydney and Wollongong newspapers have an internet-styled summary page at the very start to help us navigate through their features and sections.
I know of close mates who do not bother about any news. It may be that the more things are made more easy to get, the more they get ignored. Or perhaps some of my friends are tired of the way the news are dished out. It was very telling when a colleague - Sharon - remarked about the rather bleak and violent content of the world news served every evening by SBS-TV in Australia. It reinforces the perception that outside Australia, everything is depressingly negative and disturbing.
Can I suggest this to each tv station - once a week, for a start, have a 30 minute news bulletin that is arranged in the following manner. Commence with ten minutes of obvious good news, with hope and inspiration. Continue with another ten minutes of the possible good within obvious disturbing stories. Finish up with a quick summary of other news items summarised in internet web style and not detailing too much during the bulletin. End the news bulletin by referring interested viewers to the actual website for the full version of key items.
Monday, 19 November 2007
Return to Thai Pothong
Fifteen years ago, this restaurant was already a highlight, operating on the southern side of King Street, Newtown's main strip in Sydney's inner west.
A weekend ago I had the opportunity of re-visiting Thai Pothong. It has significantly expanded its floor space and street frontage. There was a healthy hustle and bustle about the ambiance on a Saturday night. My group had initially wanted to re-visit another of King Street's continuing and consistent performers, a Vietnamese restaurant called Than Bin, but we had not booked earlier and obviously expected a full house. We had sauntered along King Street and then remembered this Thai place.
The same sanuk (love for life) feelings from way back when were accentuated by the waiting staff members, as they clasped both hands in traditional greeting to customers. The menu however is totally revamped, with packages labelled as Chiangmai, Bangkok or Phuket settings - what a terrific idea. We ordered ala carte ca rte, and I noted the larger servings compared to before. The dessert variety remains limited, but not the smiles offered from some effective synchronised team spirit in attending to the nuances of different clients.
At the entrance, there are two distinct lines offered - those with prior bookings and those without. Once you get a table, there are no restrictions on time allocated, as an increasing number of some Asian restaurants in Sydney suburbs are practising. We stayed almost the whole night, once we ensured the parking meter was covered.
I had a taste of my perennial favourite, roast duck curry. What stood out that evening was the three flavoured marinated deep fried fish. It was interesting that a Malaysian Pernanakan dish, kueh pie tee, was served as an entree, disguised under the name of Singapore's Katong.
A weekend ago I had the opportunity of re-visiting Thai Pothong. It has significantly expanded its floor space and street frontage. There was a healthy hustle and bustle about the ambiance on a Saturday night. My group had initially wanted to re-visit another of King Street's continuing and consistent performers, a Vietnamese restaurant called Than Bin, but we had not booked earlier and obviously expected a full house. We had sauntered along King Street and then remembered this Thai place.
The same sanuk (love for life) feelings from way back when were accentuated by the waiting staff members, as they clasped both hands in traditional greeting to customers. The menu however is totally revamped, with packages labelled as Chiangmai, Bangkok or Phuket settings - what a terrific idea. We ordered ala carte ca rte, and I noted the larger servings compared to before. The dessert variety remains limited, but not the smiles offered from some effective synchronised team spirit in attending to the nuances of different clients.
At the entrance, there are two distinct lines offered - those with prior bookings and those without. Once you get a table, there are no restrictions on time allocated, as an increasing number of some Asian restaurants in Sydney suburbs are practising. We stayed almost the whole night, once we ensured the parking meter was covered.
I had a taste of my perennial favourite, roast duck curry. What stood out that evening was the three flavoured marinated deep fried fish. It was interesting that a Malaysian Pernanakan dish, kueh pie tee, was served as an entree, disguised under the name of Singapore's Katong.
Saturday, 10 November 2007
Deja Vu
I hardly watch tv anymore, but just for the memories, here are my best delights:
- Slumped down on the sofa with the family watching Cantonese-language soap operas;
- Getting entranced and absorbed with Discovery Channel documentaries, especially those with eye-captivating graphics and well portrayed historical re-enactments;
- Enjoying the Red and White New Year musical stage performances from Japan's NHK or the suave and smooth live shows from Hong Kong's TVB;
- following intently with Mum on the exact recipe measures given out on Malaysian television cooking shows;
- Literally double-tasking with both the images and subtitles on Euro movies screened late night on Australia's SBS channel;
- Sitting through three hours of Hindi-language movies that cover the whole plethora of issues under a life, from dancing around trees to having sumptuous feasts; and
- Soaking in my first cosmopolitan arts programme on the telly box from Singapore's Channel 5.
- Slumped down on the sofa with the family watching Cantonese-language soap operas;
- Getting entranced and absorbed with Discovery Channel documentaries, especially those with eye-captivating graphics and well portrayed historical re-enactments;
- Enjoying the Red and White New Year musical stage performances from Japan's NHK or the suave and smooth live shows from Hong Kong's TVB;
- following intently with Mum on the exact recipe measures given out on Malaysian television cooking shows;
- Literally double-tasking with both the images and subtitles on Euro movies screened late night on Australia's SBS channel;
- Sitting through three hours of Hindi-language movies that cover the whole plethora of issues under a life, from dancing around trees to having sumptuous feasts; and
- Soaking in my first cosmopolitan arts programme on the telly box from Singapore's Channel 5.
Tuesday, 6 November 2007
New Supply Chains
Five years ago, the Wollongong area's concept of Asian food and ingredients was seen to be caught in a time warp, with anything labelled short and long soups, sweet and sour or satay sauced expounded as the representatives of something Oriental. East Asian or South-east Asian parents of overseas graduands at the nearby University did not stay around after the ceremonies to partake in Wollongong cuisine - they rushed off north to Hurstville, Cabramatta or Sydney's Chinatown, to have their seven to ten dishes in celebratory banquets, which may reflect their unfounded fears of non-Asian food or just reinforces their gusto for food from back home.
The so-called Chinatown Street in Wollongong Central - Keira Street - has several outlets of Vietnamese, Cambodian, Thai and Malay origin - but they do supplement these offerings with a sampling of southern Chinese dishes. Asian food is accepted in Wollongong as noodles, peanut butter laden sauces and small mouth bite pieces of meat or vegetables marinated with lemon grass and chilli pastes. Some go brave and provide upmarket surroundings in furniture and decor. Some practical places charge at reasonable prices but can review their food taste strategies. Attempts at yum cha resulted in a limited variety of choice. It can be confusing to other Australians - but it only takes to realise that many South-east Asian dishes are prepared by ethnic Chinese.
In the past 12 months, there has been a change of scene and slight improvement in offerings of Asian cuisine. I can now get duck cuts with egg noodles in a refreshingly hot soup in Corrimal. Chinese-styled barbeque meats (whether in chicken, pork or duck) are now seen hanging in a small shop window along Keira Street. The night strip along Corrimal Street in downtown Wollongong also has a new Chinese restaurant to compete with the Spanish, Greek and Italian fare. With all the fresh produce from the ocean and farms in the Illawarra and South Coast regions, I long for an Asian restaurant to come up with a refreshing cuisine utilising such local produce and inspiration.
The so-called Chinatown Street in Wollongong Central - Keira Street - has several outlets of Vietnamese, Cambodian, Thai and Malay origin - but they do supplement these offerings with a sampling of southern Chinese dishes. Asian food is accepted in Wollongong as noodles, peanut butter laden sauces and small mouth bite pieces of meat or vegetables marinated with lemon grass and chilli pastes. Some go brave and provide upmarket surroundings in furniture and decor. Some practical places charge at reasonable prices but can review their food taste strategies. Attempts at yum cha resulted in a limited variety of choice. It can be confusing to other Australians - but it only takes to realise that many South-east Asian dishes are prepared by ethnic Chinese.
In the past 12 months, there has been a change of scene and slight improvement in offerings of Asian cuisine. I can now get duck cuts with egg noodles in a refreshingly hot soup in Corrimal. Chinese-styled barbeque meats (whether in chicken, pork or duck) are now seen hanging in a small shop window along Keira Street. The night strip along Corrimal Street in downtown Wollongong also has a new Chinese restaurant to compete with the Spanish, Greek and Italian fare. With all the fresh produce from the ocean and farms in the Illawarra and South Coast regions, I long for an Asian restaurant to come up with a refreshing cuisine utilising such local produce and inspiration.
Monday, 5 November 2007
On City Pavements
He looked fluffed,carrying in a lazy manner, a shoulder grab bag. What made me notice him was his continuing munching of a burger, and an obviously fatty rich fast meal at that, the chomps going furiously as his walking gait and manner. Maybe he dealt with customers front line, or through the phone, and his growing moustache was ruffled, with the eyes having a bleary, glazed look. He must not been more than in his mid-twenties, but he did somehow look older. Whilst waiting at the set of pedestrian lights, I sneaked a look at his open bag - and there was more of that greasy fast food in one big brown paper bag.
I thought to myself - obviously a single person with no structured meals and maybe no tender loving girlfriend, or that girlfriend was also chasing the rat race herself to actually insist on a home meal together!
I was also pounding on the city pavement - rushing back to Sydney's Central Station to be on time to jump (literally!)on to the fast train back to North Wollongong. I could have just relaxed and taken another train an hour later, but that train would have been an all stops, journeying south into the nearly summer night through the Royal National Park and beyond. I had even managed a bowl of what was labelled "Sydney's best laksa" at Galleries Victoria - I must say it was not that good in taste as advertised, but good enough - on my route, for I knew it would be past dinnertime when I got home.
I pondered, on the long train ride home, that scenes I have noticed recently on city streets must be repeated all over the so-called developed and developing world. Individuals who are time-poor and task-laden. Individuals who have bigger dreams and yet are caught up with numerous little details. Individuals who still have a plan underneath the veneer of being distracted by frivolous things. Individuals who may become so preoccupied that they dispense with the niceties of life. I had forgotten how a mobile phone and a laptop become great buddies on a long commute, if you don't travel with anybody else on a regular basis.
The next day I was back in the cbd with a few business meetings - and even a rare catch up with a friend at the Suisse Lindt Cafe was over in a jiffy. I had a more relaxing time at lunch, and even enjoyed the adrenalin of being in a full house outlet. I like the atmosphere of thinking and acting fast, but I cannot let go the pleasure of also having opportunities to let the subconscious of the mind strategise over long stressless car drives on almost empty roads. On the city pavements and tar, there is no such equal sensation - all of my senses are utilised by wilful concentration, by the demands of the present or by unwanted distraction.
I thought to myself - obviously a single person with no structured meals and maybe no tender loving girlfriend, or that girlfriend was also chasing the rat race herself to actually insist on a home meal together!
I was also pounding on the city pavement - rushing back to Sydney's Central Station to be on time to jump (literally!)on to the fast train back to North Wollongong. I could have just relaxed and taken another train an hour later, but that train would have been an all stops, journeying south into the nearly summer night through the Royal National Park and beyond. I had even managed a bowl of what was labelled "Sydney's best laksa" at Galleries Victoria - I must say it was not that good in taste as advertised, but good enough - on my route, for I knew it would be past dinnertime when I got home.
I pondered, on the long train ride home, that scenes I have noticed recently on city streets must be repeated all over the so-called developed and developing world. Individuals who are time-poor and task-laden. Individuals who have bigger dreams and yet are caught up with numerous little details. Individuals who still have a plan underneath the veneer of being distracted by frivolous things. Individuals who may become so preoccupied that they dispense with the niceties of life. I had forgotten how a mobile phone and a laptop become great buddies on a long commute, if you don't travel with anybody else on a regular basis.
The next day I was back in the cbd with a few business meetings - and even a rare catch up with a friend at the Suisse Lindt Cafe was over in a jiffy. I had a more relaxing time at lunch, and even enjoyed the adrenalin of being in a full house outlet. I like the atmosphere of thinking and acting fast, but I cannot let go the pleasure of also having opportunities to let the subconscious of the mind strategise over long stressless car drives on almost empty roads. On the city pavements and tar, there is no such equal sensation - all of my senses are utilised by wilful concentration, by the demands of the present or by unwanted distraction.
Thursday, 25 October 2007
Celebrating Life……..and Love
With a mellowness in my heart, and I would like to think, as well in my inner soul,
I woke up on an October Sunday morning recently after one of the most beautiful weekends I have experienced. All right, it was actually past noon and I had slept in, as I should, on a lazy morning.
On the surface, it may have been just another series of social functions. However, stirring my inner cycle of strength and motivation, I realised that I have been juxtaposed with the right alignment of stars and planets to be sufficiently fortunate to attend, in a row, a series of celebrations and to be able to share in a series of the more important things of human existence. Not just mere things, I should correct myself, but in a true series of remarkable events.
All functions I had attended had one common element – joy and passion. I also strongly felt the sense of achievement celebrated over time, and the culmination of true understanding over time. This is reflected in a contented baby who smiles under his lengthy hair locks. There is the recently wedded couple who are so grateful – and amazed – that they found each other. There is a man who just came of age, so to speak, but who already long ago has such a profound positive effect on his family and friends.
The human heart dwells in symbolism and togetherness. The love of parents for their off spring can be sensed in the holding of a barbeque for the other adults who have come to love the child. The recount of humorous episodes in a young man’s life does not suppress the tender delight in appreciating a busy life from one to twenty one years. There is the quiet and profound mutual care for each other when a couple, very much in love, emphasise their wedding vows to allow each to grow as individuals, but to always be by each other’s side when doing so. Doves may be released in a Japanese-styled garden, or numerous balloons decorate a dining hall – they represent the love of being together, the deep satisfaction of unspoken understanding and the fun that life chooses to bestow.
In each function attended that weekend, there were the three generations gathered under one roof. New grandparents, or long time nannas who have an inner peace in their countenance, beaming over the gathering of the clan. There may be the awkward silence of sets of parents brought to sit with each other when they have nothing in common, except that their children chose to fall in love for each other. There is renewal in the bridal waltz. There is experience with a very cluey twenty something generation in the prime of their young lives. I could feel the comfort in the cocoons of unspoken care at each party. There was consideration from mates who bore the brunt of logistics organising the complexities of an all day wedding. This is more so personified by a sister who dearly missed not being able to talk to a sibling every day, as was possible not too long ago.
The vibes and feelings from a special 36 hours consolidated into a calming influence.
I went into auto mode as my subconscious digested all these messages exerting themselves in a heady mix. I did not have to make the effort to rationalise too much about these emerging thoughts. To be able to find true love is sublime. To then create a new generation, when and if they choose to do so, is to move into another expression of love. What is truly exquisite is to be able to see and realise how well your off spring have grown up to be.
I woke up on an October Sunday morning recently after one of the most beautiful weekends I have experienced. All right, it was actually past noon and I had slept in, as I should, on a lazy morning.
On the surface, it may have been just another series of social functions. However, stirring my inner cycle of strength and motivation, I realised that I have been juxtaposed with the right alignment of stars and planets to be sufficiently fortunate to attend, in a row, a series of celebrations and to be able to share in a series of the more important things of human existence. Not just mere things, I should correct myself, but in a true series of remarkable events.
All functions I had attended had one common element – joy and passion. I also strongly felt the sense of achievement celebrated over time, and the culmination of true understanding over time. This is reflected in a contented baby who smiles under his lengthy hair locks. There is the recently wedded couple who are so grateful – and amazed – that they found each other. There is a man who just came of age, so to speak, but who already long ago has such a profound positive effect on his family and friends.
The human heart dwells in symbolism and togetherness. The love of parents for their off spring can be sensed in the holding of a barbeque for the other adults who have come to love the child. The recount of humorous episodes in a young man’s life does not suppress the tender delight in appreciating a busy life from one to twenty one years. There is the quiet and profound mutual care for each other when a couple, very much in love, emphasise their wedding vows to allow each to grow as individuals, but to always be by each other’s side when doing so. Doves may be released in a Japanese-styled garden, or numerous balloons decorate a dining hall – they represent the love of being together, the deep satisfaction of unspoken understanding and the fun that life chooses to bestow.
In each function attended that weekend, there were the three generations gathered under one roof. New grandparents, or long time nannas who have an inner peace in their countenance, beaming over the gathering of the clan. There may be the awkward silence of sets of parents brought to sit with each other when they have nothing in common, except that their children chose to fall in love for each other. There is renewal in the bridal waltz. There is experience with a very cluey twenty something generation in the prime of their young lives. I could feel the comfort in the cocoons of unspoken care at each party. There was consideration from mates who bore the brunt of logistics organising the complexities of an all day wedding. This is more so personified by a sister who dearly missed not being able to talk to a sibling every day, as was possible not too long ago.
The vibes and feelings from a special 36 hours consolidated into a calming influence.
I went into auto mode as my subconscious digested all these messages exerting themselves in a heady mix. I did not have to make the effort to rationalise too much about these emerging thoughts. To be able to find true love is sublime. To then create a new generation, when and if they choose to do so, is to move into another expression of love. What is truly exquisite is to be able to see and realise how well your off spring have grown up to be.
Wednesday, 24 October 2007
The Curry Club
It's a cloudy afternoon, an easy looking day that threatened with impending rain but also promised hints of the weather cooling down. This group of work colleagues - and friends -had planned an outing to the local curry joint, more of an imposing complex with an adjoining pub and with intricate drawings of southern Indian sculptures. We looked forward to this opportunity of sitting down in the airy outdeck of the venue and savouring various concoctions and condiments, downed with - not beer this time - subcontinental styled pancakes called rotis. A few of us were really famished as we arrived, having being busy in the office for the whole morning.
The seven of us had not had an opportunity to gather and partake such food together for a long time. Each of us ordered a sampling of meat curries served with basmati rice and bottled water. I enjoyed the creaminess of the essentially Northern Indian curries, whether with lamb, tandoori chicken or a helping of salad. I quietly reflected that southern Indian food from Kerala and Tamil Nadu had less dairy and more the whiff and sensation of tropical spices. India is such a varied place with different sub-cultural groups from the Himalayas to the Indian Ocean.
Those present in our little group must have had varied experiences of what curry means, from the United Kingdom, South-east Asia to Zanzibar. The bento-styled thali (or plate) offered a wholesome meal in one go. Still, we needed what can be described as "something to wash the mouth" after the main meal. Pete and I chose the mango kulfi as dessert, with yoghurt in the blend. Ann-Marie and Alison selected Italian-influenced cuppacinno, while Katie had hot chocolate. John, who has been the strong encourager in this curry club, was as happy as me that this gathering had taken place. Chandra and I talked of the possibility of incorporating the king of fruits - durians - to the curry club, but then it would have taken the focus off our fav Asian food.
The seven of us had not had an opportunity to gather and partake such food together for a long time. Each of us ordered a sampling of meat curries served with basmati rice and bottled water. I enjoyed the creaminess of the essentially Northern Indian curries, whether with lamb, tandoori chicken or a helping of salad. I quietly reflected that southern Indian food from Kerala and Tamil Nadu had less dairy and more the whiff and sensation of tropical spices. India is such a varied place with different sub-cultural groups from the Himalayas to the Indian Ocean.
Those present in our little group must have had varied experiences of what curry means, from the United Kingdom, South-east Asia to Zanzibar. The bento-styled thali (or plate) offered a wholesome meal in one go. Still, we needed what can be described as "something to wash the mouth" after the main meal. Pete and I chose the mango kulfi as dessert, with yoghurt in the blend. Ann-Marie and Alison selected Italian-influenced cuppacinno, while Katie had hot chocolate. John, who has been the strong encourager in this curry club, was as happy as me that this gathering had taken place. Chandra and I talked of the possibility of incorporating the king of fruits - durians - to the curry club, but then it would have taken the focus off our fav Asian food.
Thursday, 6 September 2007
The Sheer Airiness of Meaninglessness
The emerging sunlight promises to come gradually, and then blasts full on, literally, like a spotlight shining suddenly into the calmness of his developing dream. Shucks, he had forgotten to close the window curtains – or did he leave it open on intention, to receive the benign effects of last night's moon glow?
Oh yes, another day, another promise of new things beginning. Or is it? What used to be the thing that made him want to jump out of bed and look forward to the possibilities of a new day, had just, well become, just mere possibilities.
His optimism had been progressively whittled by the cumulative acts of an uncaring culture, bred and nurtured by selfishness, the inability of most to see beyond the confines of their narrow thinking and the provincialism of a few go-getters who did not realise that they could not flex their perceived might beyond their little pond of existence.
He observed that most others had withdrawn into a kind of so-called protective shell in a knee-jerk reaction to an existence not offering growth beyond what they had already reached. Their resulting reduced expectations were perhaps a consequence not so much from a numbness that decided not to fight anymore, but to lie low and wait out the time they had been most probably given. Meanwhile the few controlled the many; the foolish could not recognize the wise and the superior did not acknowledge their inferiority and fear.
His routine became unbearable, the organized became oppressive. He searched for meaning to rediscover his motivation, but meaning became lost in the mundane, the necessary and the required. He began to see repetition, things copied in distractions, diversions and in the regimen of life. He tried to break free, but saw certain patterns, of maybe being used at times, of definitely being used on other occasions. He heard accounts of how wealth does not guarantee happiness, of how power can drive some to delusion and of how reaching out to others can lead to abandonment. What was the meaning of all this? It was meaningless, cruelly meaningless.
The more he gathered the disparate drifting things around his world, the more they seemed to randomly disperse. Is it better to just let all go, to allow things unplanned and to not over analyse? The trust he thought he could rely upon can be dissipated in one unanticipated disagreement. He treasured gestures of friendship and communication, but these all seemed to mean nothing after business hours. He could not stand the culture that cuts and divides life before and after working hours.
He felt excluded. He tried not to feel it like this, but when he thought of the best in others, some others treated him as if he was being viewed in the worst light, whether he deserved it or not. He felt there was a two-tier system, maybe more of a multiple layered system, where he was to just do the work and he did not matter more to "them" - those he tried to do more for than just the necessary. His views were not sought out to be understood, but just judged on a presumptuous basis, without being able for him to offer his side of the story.
He was rudely told off, even when he had no intentions of doing anything of the sort he was suspected or accused of. It dawned on him that there was a set of rules for him, and a kinder set for others. He saw how some could willingly and smilingly do some things for others, but not for him. He never asked for gratitude, for anything in return, but just for a gesture of fairness and being not accused of things that he had no inkling of. He was reminded of unfair things, even if he had not asked for them. His love shown to some was returned in haughtiness and lack of consideration. His care was returned with disdain, and his heart finally broke.
The pieces of his heart flew into nothingness, just to escape the underlying pain. He joined the masses, who, preceding him, had withdrawn into this protective shell he had earlier observed from the outside. Now he was inside this same shell, and he did not even realize this. But it felt good. Really good, in a sort of meaningless, floating way.
Oh yes, another day, another promise of new things beginning. Or is it? What used to be the thing that made him want to jump out of bed and look forward to the possibilities of a new day, had just, well become, just mere possibilities.
His optimism had been progressively whittled by the cumulative acts of an uncaring culture, bred and nurtured by selfishness, the inability of most to see beyond the confines of their narrow thinking and the provincialism of a few go-getters who did not realise that they could not flex their perceived might beyond their little pond of existence.
He observed that most others had withdrawn into a kind of so-called protective shell in a knee-jerk reaction to an existence not offering growth beyond what they had already reached. Their resulting reduced expectations were perhaps a consequence not so much from a numbness that decided not to fight anymore, but to lie low and wait out the time they had been most probably given. Meanwhile the few controlled the many; the foolish could not recognize the wise and the superior did not acknowledge their inferiority and fear.
His routine became unbearable, the organized became oppressive. He searched for meaning to rediscover his motivation, but meaning became lost in the mundane, the necessary and the required. He began to see repetition, things copied in distractions, diversions and in the regimen of life. He tried to break free, but saw certain patterns, of maybe being used at times, of definitely being used on other occasions. He heard accounts of how wealth does not guarantee happiness, of how power can drive some to delusion and of how reaching out to others can lead to abandonment. What was the meaning of all this? It was meaningless, cruelly meaningless.
The more he gathered the disparate drifting things around his world, the more they seemed to randomly disperse. Is it better to just let all go, to allow things unplanned and to not over analyse? The trust he thought he could rely upon can be dissipated in one unanticipated disagreement. He treasured gestures of friendship and communication, but these all seemed to mean nothing after business hours. He could not stand the culture that cuts and divides life before and after working hours.
He felt excluded. He tried not to feel it like this, but when he thought of the best in others, some others treated him as if he was being viewed in the worst light, whether he deserved it or not. He felt there was a two-tier system, maybe more of a multiple layered system, where he was to just do the work and he did not matter more to "them" - those he tried to do more for than just the necessary. His views were not sought out to be understood, but just judged on a presumptuous basis, without being able for him to offer his side of the story.
He was rudely told off, even when he had no intentions of doing anything of the sort he was suspected or accused of. It dawned on him that there was a set of rules for him, and a kinder set for others. He saw how some could willingly and smilingly do some things for others, but not for him. He never asked for gratitude, for anything in return, but just for a gesture of fairness and being not accused of things that he had no inkling of. He was reminded of unfair things, even if he had not asked for them. His love shown to some was returned in haughtiness and lack of consideration. His care was returned with disdain, and his heart finally broke.
The pieces of his heart flew into nothingness, just to escape the underlying pain. He joined the masses, who, preceding him, had withdrawn into this protective shell he had earlier observed from the outside. Now he was inside this same shell, and he did not even realize this. But it felt good. Really good, in a sort of meaningless, floating way.
Monday, 3 September 2007
Inspiration from Suzy Domingues
I would like to share with you some of the image creations of Suzy Domingues, whom I am privileged to meet and know through mates.
Before Take-off
Wood Mushroom (above)
Rainbow over cloudsea
Native Plant
Pelican Dance
Before Take-off
Wood Mushroom (above)
Rainbow over cloudsea
Native Plant
Pelican Dance
Tuesday, 28 August 2007
A Corner of Paradise
Messages from the Past (above)
Sitting in the Southern Heaven (above)
Vista of the Tasman Sea
Wednesday, 22 August 2007
City of Effort and Dreams
Singapore is a good choice for putting up your feet on the way home from anywhere in the world, and provides a window to the variety offered by Asia. It may be too orderly and clean in this city-state, a let-down for some who expect something more exotic and thus label Singapore antiseptic; however, the English language is widely used here, although it is but one of four official languages and the city’s verdant greenery reminds one of Australian capital cities. In an island in which you can ride its suburban commuting line (the Mass Rapid Transit or MRT) in under two hours, Singapore packs a lot in sightseeing, choice of food, shopping, architecture, sampling of different cultures and modern convenience. However, the attractive prices of a shopping haven past from the seventies are long gone. And be prepared for the humidity outdoors, although I miss the short evening thunderstorms that break out to provide a sense – and aroma – of relief.
Short of natural resources, Singapore nevertheless bursts with ideas and people-ability. Tiny in size, its outlook and planning is necessarily strategic. It has been governed by the same political party since the late fifties. Beneath the veneer of relative social harmony amongst its four primary ethnic groups, lie over forty years of what is worst described by some quarters as social engineering and control. The city-state is surrounded by larger countries with perhaps different cultural and religious emphasis, and has for years obtained its primary source of water supplies from the Malaysian peninsular.
Singapore thinks business foremost, and in recent years has relaxed its previous relative perceived strait-jacket culture in order to continue to sufficiently attract the necessary talent from outside its confines. Although it has always publicly celebrated major festive occasions of the main residential ethnic groups, it has realised that to be a vibrant world-class city, it has to be liberal in approach and mindset. For example, for a start, now you can bring in chewing gum from outside but still cannot consume it in public. Holding of major rave parties for the queer members of the community had been officially okayed, a contrast to the more restrictive views of its predominantly Muslim neighbours in South-east Asia. Integrated resort complexes are being built, with gambling casinos as planned centrepieces, things which were frowned on before.
Singapore considers the whole of Asia as its domestic market and has been actively engaged with the emerging huge economy of Communist China for over three decades. It remembers its past, when it was founded, as a trading post, by Sir Stamford Raffles for the British East India Company, to take advantage of its entrepot location between India and East Asia, between London and Sydney. Singapore instinctively knows that it has to be cosmopolitan, and grew up doing so.
The government encourages thinking ahead of the next potential corner in comparative advantage and competitiveness. The whole country is wired with convenient cyberspace connections at an affordable cost. It even has a team to play in the Australian National Basketball League. The government investment arm, Temasik Holdings, places its substantial funds around the world, including Australian, UK and American businesses. To perform on a leading edge, it requires standards – and the Singapore Government monitors those benchmarks like a hawk.
Still, there is this big problem of lack of land space – and ninety percent of the population live in high-rise units. Resident car drivers are used to paying for the right to enter the central business districts during peak traffic hours on working days. Traffic congestion was tampered by the relatively high prices of cars and now the population drinks New Water, which has ten percent of its amount containing recycled water components.
Singapore follows the tradition of city states from history, and has been watching Dubai, Shanghai and Hong Kong, amongst others, very closely in terms of global competitiveness. What it lacks in physical space, it makes up in intellectual challenge, innovation and services. Singapore always likes to attract the right level and kind of resources it plans and wants.
The Government inherited the mindset of draconian laws utilised by the British colonials to combat communist insurgency and social disorder – and still wields the stick of the rotan, a rattan branch that inflicts pain on skin with an unforgettable terror, while having no qualms in imposing zero tolerance and death by hanging for drug smugglers. It monitors its changing demographics continuously to ensure a continuing optimal mix of social groups that tampers political sensitivities and enhances economic drivers. It has decided that it requires an increase in population by another two million.
It does not have a burgeoning hinterland like Guangdong Province in Southern China – and tries to make up for that by eyeing attractive regions around the globe for investment purposes. Some quarters viewed the recent ownership of Thailand’s largest telecoms company by Singaporean interests as a new form of intra-nation economic control and order.
Singapore planners focus on the next best thing not foreseen by others – and act on them. It is hungry for being always at least one step ahead, as illustrated in the social phenomenon called “kiasu”, basically a Hokkien dialect word meaning being afraid to lose out, whether to the neighbour, to the classmate, to the colleague, or to the perceived competitor. If manufacturing has gone to other, lower cost countries, Singapore moves on – to be a regional mecca for education, medical treatment and biotechnology.
Singapore thinks green – and provides one of the best examples of coordinated landscaping anywhere. The green is also reflected in its compulsory military service for all males who are in their late teens. Females of the same age group are not required to serve, and this has led to an imbalance in suitably pairing off highly educated ladies to men of their age. Singaporeans travel overseas in record numbers, starting as students and culminating with emigrating to become residents of other countries. Various people leave a nation for different reasons of discontent, perceptions and need – and Singapore replaces outgoing numbers with a purposeful mix to optimise social forces and bring in the changing skills mix required. Its national airline recovered from traumas of SARS, terrorism risks and financial rationalisation to be the first buyer in the world for the Airbus 380.
The Government at one stage warned its citizens that the island state may have to re-merge with Malaysia if necessary to survive through an economic crisis – and this comes from the Switzerland of Asia, with the second highest standard of living in Asia after Japan. Singapore has torn down many of its heritage architecture – but has also salvaged much of its unique melting pot culture, notably the Confucian way of thinking, Straits Chinese icons and British framework of laws.
An ordinary day for a Singaporean does not consist of downing the cocktail Singapore Sling at the landmark Raffles Hotel or one of riding in police speedboats that patrol harbour and territorial waters in the fight against terrorism. More likely, a typical routine commences with kaya toast, followed by a short ride on the MRT or bus to a busy day in a business, profession or employment which involves contact with demanding local or international people. Shopping complexes, tourists and crowds are an accepted part of the landscape, together with encouragement or pressures to perform well and the continuing reassessment in balancing time between making monetary gains and recovering from urban-related stress.
The nation’s icon of the Merlion, a mythical creature best described as a combination of a lion and a fish, may best symbolise Singapore and its success. It represents what has to be done to create what the city-state is today: a wonder of a reality to astound, and to be able to think beyond convention. In the annals of warfare during World War 2, the British navy was so preoccupied with protecting Singapore’s southern flanks from sea attacks that the Imperial Japanese army infiltrated by land from the north via the Malayan Peninsular. Singapore remembers that – and knows that nothing is possible – without smart human exertion and having a sufficient level of motivating hunger.
Short of natural resources, Singapore nevertheless bursts with ideas and people-ability. Tiny in size, its outlook and planning is necessarily strategic. It has been governed by the same political party since the late fifties. Beneath the veneer of relative social harmony amongst its four primary ethnic groups, lie over forty years of what is worst described by some quarters as social engineering and control. The city-state is surrounded by larger countries with perhaps different cultural and religious emphasis, and has for years obtained its primary source of water supplies from the Malaysian peninsular.
Singapore thinks business foremost, and in recent years has relaxed its previous relative perceived strait-jacket culture in order to continue to sufficiently attract the necessary talent from outside its confines. Although it has always publicly celebrated major festive occasions of the main residential ethnic groups, it has realised that to be a vibrant world-class city, it has to be liberal in approach and mindset. For example, for a start, now you can bring in chewing gum from outside but still cannot consume it in public. Holding of major rave parties for the queer members of the community had been officially okayed, a contrast to the more restrictive views of its predominantly Muslim neighbours in South-east Asia. Integrated resort complexes are being built, with gambling casinos as planned centrepieces, things which were frowned on before.
Singapore considers the whole of Asia as its domestic market and has been actively engaged with the emerging huge economy of Communist China for over three decades. It remembers its past, when it was founded, as a trading post, by Sir Stamford Raffles for the British East India Company, to take advantage of its entrepot location between India and East Asia, between London and Sydney. Singapore instinctively knows that it has to be cosmopolitan, and grew up doing so.
The government encourages thinking ahead of the next potential corner in comparative advantage and competitiveness. The whole country is wired with convenient cyberspace connections at an affordable cost. It even has a team to play in the Australian National Basketball League. The government investment arm, Temasik Holdings, places its substantial funds around the world, including Australian, UK and American businesses. To perform on a leading edge, it requires standards – and the Singapore Government monitors those benchmarks like a hawk.
Still, there is this big problem of lack of land space – and ninety percent of the population live in high-rise units. Resident car drivers are used to paying for the right to enter the central business districts during peak traffic hours on working days. Traffic congestion was tampered by the relatively high prices of cars and now the population drinks New Water, which has ten percent of its amount containing recycled water components.
Singapore follows the tradition of city states from history, and has been watching Dubai, Shanghai and Hong Kong, amongst others, very closely in terms of global competitiveness. What it lacks in physical space, it makes up in intellectual challenge, innovation and services. Singapore always likes to attract the right level and kind of resources it plans and wants.
The Government inherited the mindset of draconian laws utilised by the British colonials to combat communist insurgency and social disorder – and still wields the stick of the rotan, a rattan branch that inflicts pain on skin with an unforgettable terror, while having no qualms in imposing zero tolerance and death by hanging for drug smugglers. It monitors its changing demographics continuously to ensure a continuing optimal mix of social groups that tampers political sensitivities and enhances economic drivers. It has decided that it requires an increase in population by another two million.
It does not have a burgeoning hinterland like Guangdong Province in Southern China – and tries to make up for that by eyeing attractive regions around the globe for investment purposes. Some quarters viewed the recent ownership of Thailand’s largest telecoms company by Singaporean interests as a new form of intra-nation economic control and order.
Singapore planners focus on the next best thing not foreseen by others – and act on them. It is hungry for being always at least one step ahead, as illustrated in the social phenomenon called “kiasu”, basically a Hokkien dialect word meaning being afraid to lose out, whether to the neighbour, to the classmate, to the colleague, or to the perceived competitor. If manufacturing has gone to other, lower cost countries, Singapore moves on – to be a regional mecca for education, medical treatment and biotechnology.
Singapore thinks green – and provides one of the best examples of coordinated landscaping anywhere. The green is also reflected in its compulsory military service for all males who are in their late teens. Females of the same age group are not required to serve, and this has led to an imbalance in suitably pairing off highly educated ladies to men of their age. Singaporeans travel overseas in record numbers, starting as students and culminating with emigrating to become residents of other countries. Various people leave a nation for different reasons of discontent, perceptions and need – and Singapore replaces outgoing numbers with a purposeful mix to optimise social forces and bring in the changing skills mix required. Its national airline recovered from traumas of SARS, terrorism risks and financial rationalisation to be the first buyer in the world for the Airbus 380.
The Government at one stage warned its citizens that the island state may have to re-merge with Malaysia if necessary to survive through an economic crisis – and this comes from the Switzerland of Asia, with the second highest standard of living in Asia after Japan. Singapore has torn down many of its heritage architecture – but has also salvaged much of its unique melting pot culture, notably the Confucian way of thinking, Straits Chinese icons and British framework of laws.
An ordinary day for a Singaporean does not consist of downing the cocktail Singapore Sling at the landmark Raffles Hotel or one of riding in police speedboats that patrol harbour and territorial waters in the fight against terrorism. More likely, a typical routine commences with kaya toast, followed by a short ride on the MRT or bus to a busy day in a business, profession or employment which involves contact with demanding local or international people. Shopping complexes, tourists and crowds are an accepted part of the landscape, together with encouragement or pressures to perform well and the continuing reassessment in balancing time between making monetary gains and recovering from urban-related stress.
The nation’s icon of the Merlion, a mythical creature best described as a combination of a lion and a fish, may best symbolise Singapore and its success. It represents what has to be done to create what the city-state is today: a wonder of a reality to astound, and to be able to think beyond convention. In the annals of warfare during World War 2, the British navy was so preoccupied with protecting Singapore’s southern flanks from sea attacks that the Imperial Japanese army infiltrated by land from the north via the Malayan Peninsular. Singapore remembers that – and knows that nothing is possible – without smart human exertion and having a sufficient level of motivating hunger.
Despite Ourselves
I hope that you, the reader, shall be inspired to go forward feeling positively inspired and be encouraged to take positive steps to further realise your own personal dreams and ideals. It may be a gradual step as to stop procrastination and deal with a problem in small but effective steps to resolution; or you may decide to visit a place that you have always hoped for; or it may instinctively point you to view matters from a different but helpful perspective.
I believe every human being we interact with – either as a person or as a group – affects us in various ways, but I believe in learning the best from every encounter. Sometimes negativity can overwhelm us, but if we snap out of it and realise the good that comes from the bad, the hope from the disappointment, and the calm after the storm, then every experience is offered to us to help us clarify our thoughts, sharpen our attitudes and move our hearts and minds to more liberating dimensions.
Each of us has different needs and expectations, but I hope you conserve and expend your energy on expanding and living your potential, and we have different drivers at various stages of life. Try to always move out of your comfort zone to feel the adrenalin of new experiences and tamper unknown or uncomfortable situations with a dose of humour and sharing.
Delightfully surprise friends when least expected. I appreciate friends who do not assume or presume, but communicate and keep in touch. You have the power to transform a difficult situation to an easier one. The love you offer a special someone may not be returned, but do not despair that the good feelings you have in love are wasted – your magical power of care can be channelled to those who appreciate it, even if in another form. When the love you have for the object of your admiration returns you the favour, then you are extra blessed.
Give to others when you can, for not sharing them with another human being is wasting what has been given to you. You decide to be happy, and continue to be happy. I believe in the law of karma – if others trample me now, they are generating the cycle for themselves to be trampled, but maybe later. Life is not meant to be made use by others in an inconsiderate way, and such relationships wither away, for the good of both parties. On the other hand, each of us is thought about dearly by at least some one every night, even if we ourselves do not know about it.
I go out at night to look at the stars on a clear night sky. I try to do something different each day – and also tackle that irritating task that does not inspire but has to be done. I am especially thankful for politeness from strangers and friendliness from persons whom we may never see again. I cherish special moments true friends have provided me. Memories are like moonbeams into our inner soul and help us face the future. The most comforting friendships are those that can be picked up quickly, even with obstacles of lost time, distance and circumstance, and those that continue despite drama and challenges. Make the best of any weather – and do enjoy the cosiness of listening to dripping rain outside the window. Focus on what nurtures and motivates, rather than on what hinders and complicates – and let go of the latter, despite apparent requirements, our initial feelings and ourselves.
I believe every human being we interact with – either as a person or as a group – affects us in various ways, but I believe in learning the best from every encounter. Sometimes negativity can overwhelm us, but if we snap out of it and realise the good that comes from the bad, the hope from the disappointment, and the calm after the storm, then every experience is offered to us to help us clarify our thoughts, sharpen our attitudes and move our hearts and minds to more liberating dimensions.
Each of us has different needs and expectations, but I hope you conserve and expend your energy on expanding and living your potential, and we have different drivers at various stages of life. Try to always move out of your comfort zone to feel the adrenalin of new experiences and tamper unknown or uncomfortable situations with a dose of humour and sharing.
Delightfully surprise friends when least expected. I appreciate friends who do not assume or presume, but communicate and keep in touch. You have the power to transform a difficult situation to an easier one. The love you offer a special someone may not be returned, but do not despair that the good feelings you have in love are wasted – your magical power of care can be channelled to those who appreciate it, even if in another form. When the love you have for the object of your admiration returns you the favour, then you are extra blessed.
Give to others when you can, for not sharing them with another human being is wasting what has been given to you. You decide to be happy, and continue to be happy. I believe in the law of karma – if others trample me now, they are generating the cycle for themselves to be trampled, but maybe later. Life is not meant to be made use by others in an inconsiderate way, and such relationships wither away, for the good of both parties. On the other hand, each of us is thought about dearly by at least some one every night, even if we ourselves do not know about it.
I go out at night to look at the stars on a clear night sky. I try to do something different each day – and also tackle that irritating task that does not inspire but has to be done. I am especially thankful for politeness from strangers and friendliness from persons whom we may never see again. I cherish special moments true friends have provided me. Memories are like moonbeams into our inner soul and help us face the future. The most comforting friendships are those that can be picked up quickly, even with obstacles of lost time, distance and circumstance, and those that continue despite drama and challenges. Make the best of any weather – and do enjoy the cosiness of listening to dripping rain outside the window. Focus on what nurtures and motivates, rather than on what hinders and complicates – and let go of the latter, despite apparent requirements, our initial feelings and ourselves.
Sunday, 19 August 2007
Where Can I Go
What did I do, what did I not
The scenery that envelopes me is beautiful
But some things do not turn out as I hoped and thought
from relying on surface impressions given by a surprising few
What I should let go, what I cannot
Even in the face of the obvious renewed
You can put your hand and heart to share the lot
It still does not mean there are no more stitches to sew
Where can I go, where I do not want to
When faced with passing ships, day or night
I am torn between wanting to come and go
But I know it's best to detach, to be able to see the light
Where can I float,where can I cling to hope
I look into my inner self, I look into my true friends
It then dawns on me these have always given me a rope
To scramble upon, to realise dreams and to say I can
The scenery that envelopes me is beautiful
But some things do not turn out as I hoped and thought
from relying on surface impressions given by a surprising few
What I should let go, what I cannot
Even in the face of the obvious renewed
You can put your hand and heart to share the lot
It still does not mean there are no more stitches to sew
Where can I go, where I do not want to
When faced with passing ships, day or night
I am torn between wanting to come and go
But I know it's best to detach, to be able to see the light
Where can I float,where can I cling to hope
I look into my inner self, I look into my true friends
It then dawns on me these have always given me a rope
To scramble upon, to realise dreams and to say I can
Sunday, 12 August 2007
Numbers
Numbers were conceptualised to help mankind grasp more effectively with time, distance and the relationships inherent in Nature. This year we have 777 to fascinate us - and for business, philosophers, numerologists and the media to speculate and rave about. The series of sevens refer to the 7th of July, when my dear friend Eu Hock from school days reaches a landmark birthday as well. The new Modern Seven Wonders of the World are, as this is posted, due to be announced.
Next year the magical number eight grabs its hold on East Asian populations, with their obsession with that specific digit, that rhymes with the pronunciation for the word for prosperity. The Beijing Summer Olympics shall be launched at 8pm eastern China time on the eighth night of August of 2008. The most recent time when 8 figured fascinatingly in the calender was in 1988, which coincided with the Oriental Year of the Dragon, and when the last Olympics were also held in Asia.
Next year proves to be a bountiful year for eight combinations, whatever you make of it. Hold parties or have vehicle rego plates with 118, 228, 338, 668, 888, 998, 11118 and 128.
Next year the magical number eight grabs its hold on East Asian populations, with their obsession with that specific digit, that rhymes with the pronunciation for the word for prosperity. The Beijing Summer Olympics shall be launched at 8pm eastern China time on the eighth night of August of 2008. The most recent time when 8 figured fascinatingly in the calender was in 1988, which coincided with the Oriental Year of the Dragon, and when the last Olympics were also held in Asia.
Next year proves to be a bountiful year for eight combinations, whatever you make of it. Hold parties or have vehicle rego plates with 118, 228, 338, 668, 888, 998, 11118 and 128.
Saturday, 11 August 2007
Along The Way
Grapefruit,they must be that, all of them fat, with rounded plum bottoms and the unmistakable green colour that should then yellow, if left uneaten for too long.
We had momentarily disembarked at a convenience stop along the highway, and other coaches also disgorged their passengers to use toilets and visit fruit stalls. The majority of the vendors were brown-skinned, but the sellers of the supposedly grapefruit outlet were fairer, and elderly, older than the others.
Passing rain showers broke the monotony of the ride from a capital city to this tropical island enclave that we were heading to. The experience was not unpleasant, starting right after lunch hour and we expected to have a seafood dinner under palm trees with our toes massaging into warm sand. It was humid outside, but not in the cocooned comfort of air-conditioning inside.
The only irritating thing was a loud woman mouthing a variety of languages on to her hand phone, English included. From what was forced for the others to hear, we reckoned that she was moving to either Melbourne or Perth later in the year, although right now this was no where near those cities. Her voice competed with the audio from a movie playing on a screen near the coach driver.
Palm trees gave way to rubber plantations. The flat alluvial plains on both sides soon changed to a climb up through a mountainous area, thick with equatorial forests. Is it true that life happens while we are waiting for someone or something better? Is life going on when travelling on a coach in a foreign land? Is time better spent eating and dancing with family and friends, or being submerged in some personally obsessive cultural pursuit? Another afternoon passes, and soon we saw the setting sun behind the hills of the isle we were travelling to.
Thursday, 9 August 2007
The Lure
The vongole had dark blue-black shells, that opened up like gaping mouths. as they cooked in the braised concoction. I rarely have had crispy potato cubes mixed with marinara portions of such mussels, flavourful limbs of crab, tomato gravy and garlic marination, but there they were - reminding me of the penchant for small potatoes cooked in South Indian chicken curry.
Here I was on a mid-week night, along Victoria Road in Drummoyne, a convenient fifteen minutes drive away from Sydney CBD's George Street, dining with good friends on a rather balmy night in a so-called August winter. The question was then raised: do I plan to come back to commercial life in the Big Smoke?
Yes, Sydney is getting crowded, more expensive and impersonal. Young families are relocating away to other parts of Australia; established families are finding the cost of living going up while the paper value of their assets are doing likewise; the changing ethnic character of whole neighbourhoods is transforming the greater Sydney area into more of pockets of the diverse world in greater intensity than what Dubai's isles of The World can lay claim to; and just going to work is becoming a more challenging ritual of patience and rising costs.
At the same time, the lure of bigger market potential, more attractive salary packages and higher prospects of making a big gain within a shorter time combine to dazzle and captivate new entrants rushing in as fast as others flee outwards. Maybe these new adventurers coming into Sydney do not plan to stay forever. Some do, perhaps seduced by its lifestyle after hours, the variety of cuisines and cultural events available and perhaps just by the sheer dynamism of possibilities. Westfield plans to refurbish the shopping experience along Pitt Street Mall. CBD residents throng the pavements at night with as much gusto as train commuters walk with purposeful gaits in their hurry to their office blocks in the early mornings.
I always wonder what in the world are business-jacketed males doing at 10pm on week nights in bus stops in Sydney's night spots? Don't they go home and change before coming down for the city centre's night life? It is a definitely long day and evening for such creatures from the suburbs. If they go home, they do go home and stay put, not coming back again to the CBD. So I reckon if they have after-work functions and events, they try to catch the last bus or train of the night, and then spring back in time to ride on the first scheduled public transport the next day back to the city centre. That sounds to me like literally burning the candle at both ends.
The wiser ones, usually younger and with less family commitments, stay as near as possible to their place of work. A whole demographic sub-culture has been built around such denizens, usually featuring essential things like gym, power breakfasts, iPods, laptops, smart dressing, job hopping, weekend getaways, cafes, alternative choices and periodic visits back to the parents. For some of this sub-set, it is just a training ground and prelude to the same lifestyle they relish when they move to London, New York, Shanghai or Singapore.
So it was not easy to respond to the question posed earlier- it's a mixed bag. My mind may be open, half-mouth gaping at the quicker pace of possibilities, but also with my feet grounded in the harsh realities of having to commute in the winter connumdrum of experiencing going to work and coming home both under the mooonlight.
It can be akin to having potatoes in the same dish with whole crabs. Whether the results are delicious or not, it's up to how each of us takes this dichotomy, and whether we already have a better lifestyle to begin with.
Here I was on a mid-week night, along Victoria Road in Drummoyne, a convenient fifteen minutes drive away from Sydney CBD's George Street, dining with good friends on a rather balmy night in a so-called August winter. The question was then raised: do I plan to come back to commercial life in the Big Smoke?
Yes, Sydney is getting crowded, more expensive and impersonal. Young families are relocating away to other parts of Australia; established families are finding the cost of living going up while the paper value of their assets are doing likewise; the changing ethnic character of whole neighbourhoods is transforming the greater Sydney area into more of pockets of the diverse world in greater intensity than what Dubai's isles of The World can lay claim to; and just going to work is becoming a more challenging ritual of patience and rising costs.
At the same time, the lure of bigger market potential, more attractive salary packages and higher prospects of making a big gain within a shorter time combine to dazzle and captivate new entrants rushing in as fast as others flee outwards. Maybe these new adventurers coming into Sydney do not plan to stay forever. Some do, perhaps seduced by its lifestyle after hours, the variety of cuisines and cultural events available and perhaps just by the sheer dynamism of possibilities. Westfield plans to refurbish the shopping experience along Pitt Street Mall. CBD residents throng the pavements at night with as much gusto as train commuters walk with purposeful gaits in their hurry to their office blocks in the early mornings.
I always wonder what in the world are business-jacketed males doing at 10pm on week nights in bus stops in Sydney's night spots? Don't they go home and change before coming down for the city centre's night life? It is a definitely long day and evening for such creatures from the suburbs. If they go home, they do go home and stay put, not coming back again to the CBD. So I reckon if they have after-work functions and events, they try to catch the last bus or train of the night, and then spring back in time to ride on the first scheduled public transport the next day back to the city centre. That sounds to me like literally burning the candle at both ends.
The wiser ones, usually younger and with less family commitments, stay as near as possible to their place of work. A whole demographic sub-culture has been built around such denizens, usually featuring essential things like gym, power breakfasts, iPods, laptops, smart dressing, job hopping, weekend getaways, cafes, alternative choices and periodic visits back to the parents. For some of this sub-set, it is just a training ground and prelude to the same lifestyle they relish when they move to London, New York, Shanghai or Singapore.
So it was not easy to respond to the question posed earlier- it's a mixed bag. My mind may be open, half-mouth gaping at the quicker pace of possibilities, but also with my feet grounded in the harsh realities of having to commute in the winter connumdrum of experiencing going to work and coming home both under the mooonlight.
It can be akin to having potatoes in the same dish with whole crabs. Whether the results are delicious or not, it's up to how each of us takes this dichotomy, and whether we already have a better lifestyle to begin with.
Monday, 30 July 2007
A Place in My Heart
The ice-cream seller wore a round white solid hat, the colour contrasting with his skin, darkened by the harsh equatorial sunlight. The freezer box sat on a tricycle placed against the grey-brown walls of the house. There were other vendors invited to cater for this children's birthday party, but this purveyor of frozen delights stands out in my memory.
The party was organised by the Lim family, supervised over benignly by a doctor who always wore fitting clothes and whose big eyes shone out behind her glasses. Whether adorned in her traditional kebaya blouse or in her Western fashion, she always provided a picture of orderliness, kind straight talking and a twist of humour. I loved going to visit her and her family on Sunday evenings, and also because I enjoyed interacting with her children. I also had opportunity to stay overnight at times with her sons, and her youngest daughter is like the sister I never had.
There were the picnics by the rather sheltered beaches of my home island - and I can recall the sandy mats, the tasty snacks and the bungalows beside the palm trees. Did we all dig for mussels, I wonder, and I think we must have. When I think of this lady, I recall dinners with braised mutton and steamed okras. When it was Chinese New Year in the latter years, I recall the pickled plums and other fruits. Weekend mornings in a teenage year meant the breakfasts from the coffee shops in the suburb of Pulau Tikus on Penang Island.
Uncle Harry is a keen sports shooter and I remember the fruit bats from across the channel. My memories of the Lim family come from the mists of my birthplace. Even in Australia, my fondness of events past but still in my heart include the peal of their laughter on lazy afternoons and the rhythm of piano music during relaxing parties. I still slip easily into the familiarity of friendship with May Lim when I return to my home island on visits, as though I had never left.
I am told that human beings leave a place in their hearts for what certain others especially do for them. I should not say I am told, becasue I know.
Goodbye, Dr Yeoh. I celebrate your life in my heart.
The party was organised by the Lim family, supervised over benignly by a doctor who always wore fitting clothes and whose big eyes shone out behind her glasses. Whether adorned in her traditional kebaya blouse or in her Western fashion, she always provided a picture of orderliness, kind straight talking and a twist of humour. I loved going to visit her and her family on Sunday evenings, and also because I enjoyed interacting with her children. I also had opportunity to stay overnight at times with her sons, and her youngest daughter is like the sister I never had.
There were the picnics by the rather sheltered beaches of my home island - and I can recall the sandy mats, the tasty snacks and the bungalows beside the palm trees. Did we all dig for mussels, I wonder, and I think we must have. When I think of this lady, I recall dinners with braised mutton and steamed okras. When it was Chinese New Year in the latter years, I recall the pickled plums and other fruits. Weekend mornings in a teenage year meant the breakfasts from the coffee shops in the suburb of Pulau Tikus on Penang Island.
Uncle Harry is a keen sports shooter and I remember the fruit bats from across the channel. My memories of the Lim family come from the mists of my birthplace. Even in Australia, my fondness of events past but still in my heart include the peal of their laughter on lazy afternoons and the rhythm of piano music during relaxing parties. I still slip easily into the familiarity of friendship with May Lim when I return to my home island on visits, as though I had never left.
I am told that human beings leave a place in their hearts for what certain others especially do for them. I should not say I am told, becasue I know.
Goodbye, Dr Yeoh. I celebrate your life in my heart.
Friday, 27 July 2007
The Sweetness of Life
The weekend begins, but before I lose myself in the state of being voluntarily hanging in a state of nothingness, with no care for a sense of time and the rigour of schedule, I want to be thankful for some things today that are wonderfully important to me.
I have had my eyes opened and my mind broadened to rise above the apparent surface and regime of what life seems to be. Whilst I subject myself to the so-called requirements of a life, it is only fair that life subjects me to certain encounters that widens my perspectives and thereby liberates my attitude and thinking. And that experience has been gratifying.
I just had the opportunity to know that a close mate has been given the all clear bill in health, after persistently and patiently overcoming a growth that is not desired. I salute him in this welcome positive of events, and I admire the consistent and reliable care that his wife has bestowed on him.
Inside me, I begin to acknowledge more the efforts of individuals in my working environment to help create a fun atmosphere. Even if there are busy demands placed on all of us during business hours, it has been great for me to be able to exchange short greetings to be infused with their positive moods and demeanour. We then scurry back to our tasks with greater determination and motivation.
It has been good to be able to ease into catching up with individuals whom I don't get to meet very often, and yet they make me feel so at home at heart when we do. With a sense of humour, a bit of being adventuresome and with a smiling face.
When there have been difficult moments, I thank the friends who allow me to be articulate and expressive about them. Even when they don't have to listen, and may not agree, I appreciate those individuals who lend their time, ear and interest. Subconsciously they allow me to air my views, and by doing so help me better resolve the situation, and make me come to a sensible perspective. Each of them knows the power of being given a listening ear, and I only hope that I can return this favour to each of them.
Most special of all today is someone who listened to me with a mature intensity in a delicate situation. I want to especially remember the patient demeanour and focussed ear offered to me. I may not have deserved this attention, especially when it was topped up by a follow-up gesture of a drink that lightened my heart and illustrated empathy with me.
That, to me, encapsulates the true sweetness of life.
Saturday, 21 July 2007
Be AWARE in Our Personal Time Management
After years of available time to practice, I am no master of this, the delicate art of time management.
Do I have a structured plan to do things as it should be? Not all the time. Do I actually finish off the more important things in a typical work day filled with must-dos, look-forward-to-dos and hijacked energy-draining diversions from people who do not care for me? Maybe. Do I feel totally satisfied by day's end that I have achieved what I set out for earlier at dawn - remember all that stuff about "tomorrow is another day" and a fresh start? Nope.
Effective time management to me is the result of a confluence of several things - attitude, emotional intelligence, planning, navigation and persistence to want to achieve mitigating the most risky items in the midst of environmental limitations, undue influence and how other human beings treat you. I still ride this journey of time management, and if I allow myself to experiment, observe and learn, I enjoy how to apply better aspects of it to different important stages and phases of my life.
My current views on this journey are to be AWARE of:
Anticipating my goals, small or big, and ensuring I plan, allocate and ensure good payback in utilisation of my time;
Weeding out spending time with things and people who bring me backward instead of encouraging me forward, and I never say that I am too busy to individuals whom I care about and enjoy being with;
Admitting to my inexplicable observation that with all the better ease in physical mobility, automated equipment operation and better ease of communication, I find myself with less time than I would like with the people I love and for the things I enjoy doing;
Reflecting on the magical moments, useful outcomes and unexpected positive experiences over the days recently gone by; and
Executing use of my time going forward with a flexible attitude when required, for I never under-estimate the value of chilling out and occasionally having the sensation of doing nothing with a close mate and letting the rain outside fall down in harmony with Nature.
Do I have a structured plan to do things as it should be? Not all the time. Do I actually finish off the more important things in a typical work day filled with must-dos, look-forward-to-dos and hijacked energy-draining diversions from people who do not care for me? Maybe. Do I feel totally satisfied by day's end that I have achieved what I set out for earlier at dawn - remember all that stuff about "tomorrow is another day" and a fresh start? Nope.
Effective time management to me is the result of a confluence of several things - attitude, emotional intelligence, planning, navigation and persistence to want to achieve mitigating the most risky items in the midst of environmental limitations, undue influence and how other human beings treat you. I still ride this journey of time management, and if I allow myself to experiment, observe and learn, I enjoy how to apply better aspects of it to different important stages and phases of my life.
My current views on this journey are to be AWARE of:
Anticipating my goals, small or big, and ensuring I plan, allocate and ensure good payback in utilisation of my time;
Weeding out spending time with things and people who bring me backward instead of encouraging me forward, and I never say that I am too busy to individuals whom I care about and enjoy being with;
Admitting to my inexplicable observation that with all the better ease in physical mobility, automated equipment operation and better ease of communication, I find myself with less time than I would like with the people I love and for the things I enjoy doing;
Reflecting on the magical moments, useful outcomes and unexpected positive experiences over the days recently gone by; and
Executing use of my time going forward with a flexible attitude when required, for I never under-estimate the value of chilling out and occasionally having the sensation of doing nothing with a close mate and letting the rain outside fall down in harmony with Nature.
Thursday, 19 July 2007
A New Beginning
After the fun of test driving and developing patience over administrative processes, the long wait was forgotten as enjoyment set in - my appreciation to Danielle and Shane Campbell for joining me in this adventure to choose a new vehicle.
Friday, 13 July 2007
Goodbye Zoom Zoom
Hey what's this yellow Twitty Bird? Complimentary car from dealer while waiting for new car arrival 
Sunday, 8 July 2007
How Was Your Weekend?
I was asked , so what do you do on a weekend?
My preferred answer was "Nothing, I just let myself free of schedules, follow-ups, the computer and just let my mind ride on the wave of liberation". The reality is very different.
Friday evening should be for chilling out, but when my commitments at work and business call, I make time for them, even then. The end of the week was normally released in catching up with mates working in the central business district, and taking a late train home to the suburbs, but now that I am living outside a capital city, I just make sure I give my inner soul a special treat. Dining out, having drinks, catching a movie or laughing with friends. I think it is important to celebrate the week, to recognise people who do not care for me and more importantly, acknowledge those who do. And then to sleep late, to not be bound by the demands of time and obligation. There is no shopping pressure, as most retail outlets are closed at the same time as offices, and sometimes I wonder how I adjusted to all that lack of shopping pleasure after work.
Living in a regional town and also having a social network in a capital city can be a difficult balancing act. I choose not to see it that way, and appreciate the ability to dart between two worlds, just as I have to sometimes walk a tightrope between two personal cultures. The essential thing for me is to plan ahead - most of my road journeys to a social gathering, a shopping centre or a stint in a lifestyle suburb involves driving about two to three hours all up, when I am not doing it in the Wollongong area. Waking up early in the nippy dawn and coming home late under moonlight does have its advantages - I assure you that it does build character. I like to build a theme around my itnerary for the weekend day and Sydney does offer its varied and diverse personalities to not offer a dull moment. Outdoors, indooors, different age groups, mountain, plains or coast, the setting for my outing can be for brunch, the whole day, walking the dog or chilling out for the evening. At times I choose to go south or west, instead of heading to the Big Smoke. Networking, or having a day's adventure with a mate, adds back things taken away during the week. I used to spend time doing some charity work, but now I have been slack on this.
What I secretly enjoy most on a weekend is to potter around the house and keep things going. The garden plants need culling, pruning or sculpturing. The car needs cleaning and vacuuming. The goldfish deserve a water change in their tank. The carpet feels better after being paid attention to. Nothing beats in contributing to winter cosiness or summer ease than cooking, be it a simple omelette or dabbling in preparing one's own soul food. In my case, I love stirring the pot when I am cooking tender neck pork cuts in soy sauce and garlic, or stir-frying a quick and simple dish of vermicelli with preferred ingredients and then adding garnish.
Sometimes Saturday mornings are reserved for that special trip to comparing products, or visiting the dentist, optometrist and hairstylist. It may also be a special sports meet up with close mates outdoors or a workout in a gym, and to remind myself why I work hard and steadily on weekdays.
One of life's simple pleasures for me is to surf the internet or read magazines or books with a hot drink or cold beverage on hand, and be able at the same time to feel the breeze or bask in the warmth of the sun. Reading restores my inner self. Then I look at my pile of laundry, washed but not ironed. I know then that Monday morning is always at the back of my mind.
My preferred answer was "Nothing, I just let myself free of schedules, follow-ups, the computer and just let my mind ride on the wave of liberation". The reality is very different.
Friday evening should be for chilling out, but when my commitments at work and business call, I make time for them, even then. The end of the week was normally released in catching up with mates working in the central business district, and taking a late train home to the suburbs, but now that I am living outside a capital city, I just make sure I give my inner soul a special treat. Dining out, having drinks, catching a movie or laughing with friends. I think it is important to celebrate the week, to recognise people who do not care for me and more importantly, acknowledge those who do. And then to sleep late, to not be bound by the demands of time and obligation. There is no shopping pressure, as most retail outlets are closed at the same time as offices, and sometimes I wonder how I adjusted to all that lack of shopping pleasure after work.
Living in a regional town and also having a social network in a capital city can be a difficult balancing act. I choose not to see it that way, and appreciate the ability to dart between two worlds, just as I have to sometimes walk a tightrope between two personal cultures. The essential thing for me is to plan ahead - most of my road journeys to a social gathering, a shopping centre or a stint in a lifestyle suburb involves driving about two to three hours all up, when I am not doing it in the Wollongong area. Waking up early in the nippy dawn and coming home late under moonlight does have its advantages - I assure you that it does build character. I like to build a theme around my itnerary for the weekend day and Sydney does offer its varied and diverse personalities to not offer a dull moment. Outdoors, indooors, different age groups, mountain, plains or coast, the setting for my outing can be for brunch, the whole day, walking the dog or chilling out for the evening. At times I choose to go south or west, instead of heading to the Big Smoke. Networking, or having a day's adventure with a mate, adds back things taken away during the week. I used to spend time doing some charity work, but now I have been slack on this.
What I secretly enjoy most on a weekend is to potter around the house and keep things going. The garden plants need culling, pruning or sculpturing. The car needs cleaning and vacuuming. The goldfish deserve a water change in their tank. The carpet feels better after being paid attention to. Nothing beats in contributing to winter cosiness or summer ease than cooking, be it a simple omelette or dabbling in preparing one's own soul food. In my case, I love stirring the pot when I am cooking tender neck pork cuts in soy sauce and garlic, or stir-frying a quick and simple dish of vermicelli with preferred ingredients and then adding garnish.
Sometimes Saturday mornings are reserved for that special trip to comparing products, or visiting the dentist, optometrist and hairstylist. It may also be a special sports meet up with close mates outdoors or a workout in a gym, and to remind myself why I work hard and steadily on weekdays.
One of life's simple pleasures for me is to surf the internet or read magazines or books with a hot drink or cold beverage on hand, and be able at the same time to feel the breeze or bask in the warmth of the sun. Reading restores my inner self. Then I look at my pile of laundry, washed but not ironed. I know then that Monday morning is always at the back of my mind.
Saturday, 7 July 2007
The World of the Straits Chinese Maiden
Settings for meals (above)
Inner courtyard (above)
Kitchen long table (above)
Traditional tiffin carrier (below)
Bridal chamberWorking Teams
Davin Gaynes, Kevin Yong and Josh Atkins (above)
Chris Perre, Kevin Yong and Shibani Iyer
(below)
Krish De, Josh Atkins and Daniel Redman (above)
Krish De, Josh Atkins and Kevin Yong (above)
John Walter and Daniel Redman (above)
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