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.
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Monday, 26 November 2007
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.
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