Watching Trains Go By

We cook and eat daily, unless we choose to dine out. The newspaper is delivered outside the door, if not straight on to our computers. We get ready to go out and then wind down when we come home. Monday mornings and Friday evenings see repeats of traffic rush. Holidays mean double demerit points applied if we commit road use offences and get caught.

We do business or work, invest our finances and hope there is accumulation of wealth. We try to convert monetary wealth to meaningful experiences of love, marriage, parenthood and family. Day and night come as predictably as the seasons, not just of nature, but also in sports, community events, skiing, fruiting seasons, surfing and cyclic payments and receipts. Babies are born, mature people try not to look older and youngsters can't wait to grow fast to savour forbidden things. People come and go, people promise to try to keep in touch and others actually do. Some meet unexpected encounters and get transformed. Some plan and gradually be what they hope to be. A few never change at all.

We acquire new interests. We drop some old habits. We never get near some things we hope we can try. We avoid what is instinctively not in our nature or inclination. We step into the unknown at times on the strength of someone we like - and who also encourage us. We huddle back into safe corners when we feel the rush of vibes not agreeable with us when we just put one foot into the untried. We move on, we freeze or we recede - for different reasons, various scenarios and with different people.

At times we get to watch and pause. Just like at the rail station that we use to commute. We can see others, we can reflect on ourselves. The train has not pulled up, or if it does, it is not ours to take us to our destination. We stand there on the platform or sit on the bench. We have a rare moment to watch the trains go by. We have the time to think about and for ourselves.We have the time to think of loved ones and what we can do for them. In the corner of our sight, we may spot someone we want to share our journey with. Or spot someone coming to join us and who is already sharing our journey.

Two Puppies

Last Saturday morning, two obviously boisterous puppies played on the road. They epitomized the playful part of their lives, but seemed to be engaged in a ritualised dancing sequence. I stopped my Forrester just in time in front of them, as they gleefully enjoyed each other's company so much so that they totally forgot that they were right in the middle of a man made road.

I caught the glint in their eyes - they could not have been more than 3 months, with a rich brown coat of fur and handsomely marked faces. I wondered, in a year's time, would they still retain their youthful lack of care and intense enjoyment of life? Maybe they had amazingly escaped from under the house fence and had been wanting for all these rainy days to just release their bountiful, but pent-up, energy and just savouring the freedom of running outdoors. Maybe they were just being themselves, without any inkling of what they should be, and had the freedom to do so. What is sure was that they were having the best time of their lives.

Each of us had once been fully like that. Like the two puppies, we had at least once soaked in the wonder of the boundless possibilities of a rejuvenated day and a refreshed world. Some of us are fortunate to feel like that every day, or have found the formula to do so. Was it because the two puppies had not yet been subject to a structured regime, or maybe they chose to ignore the rigid routine offered to them? I suspect the answer lies more in the attitude of the two lovely darlings at that stage of life.

Even if we did not want to, we are eventually shown and taught constraints, responsibilities and commitments. At times, some of us revel in such overlaid requirements that we find ourselves trapped by them, willingly or not. The liberty of a life is only appreciated by acknowledging the imprisonments of what we had to undergo to get and enjoy spontaneous freedom. These imprisonments may be in the form of education, societal expectations and economic requirements. An ideal life is exemplified by the joy of two puppies prancing on a street, but there is also a cost - hidden and obvious - of getting them there. Just ask their owners for a start.

Nevertheless, it does not stop me from relishing or anticipating opportunities to enjoy such moments. Once in a while, I want to immerse in the glory of life - pure, unfettered and intense.

Wollongong By Night

A regional town on the eastern seaboard of the Australian continental island, Wollongong may not appeal to some, day or night. Under the night sky, however, the Wollongong city lights do form a layered but flat cornucopia of twinkling electrical lights beside the darkness of the Tasman Sea. When you are in the middle of it, you do not realise or see it, but when you approach the city from the mountain top highway coming from Sydney or inland, the view turns up like a delightful surprise, especially after the pitch blackness of the nearby Royal National Park.

Looking up into the London sky often offers a grey lead colour, but putting up your eyes over the Wollongong area night sky suggests so many possibilities for telescopes, constellation identification and viewing of the moon. To an ex-Sydney sider like me, the heavens after twilight are definitely different and clearer. From Mount Keira, one can make out specific landmarks, buildings and roads.

Essentially a suburban conglomeration, Wollongong can be said to have a one-strip nightlife, centring around food, student life and pockets of night clubbing. Those from further down the South Coast do drive up to the city for a weekend night out, but those in Wollongong are drawn up north to the variety available in the Big Smoke of Sydney. The surf coast and the outdoor lifestyle are not fully utilized for its potential.

Krish, Daniel and I took a night ride after a Japanese dinner. We first came to a pitch-dark point overlooking the harbour, lit only by an imposing lighthouse on a weeknight. We then skirted the Wollongong golf course by the sea before heading out to Port Kembla. Mired in complex contraptions of steel and white belching smoke, the whole complex of Bluescope suggested to me of Gotham City after dark. There were hilly mounds of coal and waste discernible even in the darkness. Yes, there are shady goings-on at Port Kembla at night besides the production of steel.

Warrawong in the evenings look like the statistics it produces - high youth unemployment and deserted streets leading to a Westfield shopping centre. We drove up the road to the Nan Tien Temple even if we knew it had already closed - and just got the last outlined lights of its buildings before they were switched off at ten pm. The guard was friendly but firm in reminding us about opening and closing hours.

A Weekend of Three Restaurants

The Towon Restaurant in Chatswood, Sydney, is run by a Korean family who spent some considerable time in north-eastern China. The cuisine is primarily Chinese with a unique Korean accent. There is Chinese food from Malaysia, Singapore, California, the United Kingdom, Canada, Vietnam and Thailand - so I found it particularly interesting to try such a variation. Presentation from the Towon is outstanding. The serving staff wear a clean dark uniform - the neatness of the dishes presented is more than matched by the taste. At the table in the private dining room, we had Beijing duck with crispy skin so different from the usual fare of the China's capital. There was more than a strong hint of spices and chilli in Towon's creations.

The Metro in Wollongong CBD, New South Wales, offered what could be described as three-course Australian fare. For a mate's fortieth birthday, around 30 of us gathered to partake in the ritual of drinks, dining and birthday cake singing - we took up the street level floor of this one-shop front cozy restaurant that sits across Lorenzo's Diner, one of the regional township's best Italian restaurants. I had a perfect cut of a pork medallion, braised in the most delightful juices, for my mains. My entree of a light spaghetti pasta flavoured by prawn and chili was better than the dessert of tangy lemon tart lets. I could get home in under ten minutes by car.

Hong Fu in Parramatta is an unpretentious eatery run by a family from north-east China. It is neither Beijing nor Manchurian, and I suspect Shandung cuisine. Service is quick but bookings are necessary. Popular with ethnic Chinese, what they are doing right is exemplified by the quality of some of their signature dishes. I love the eggplants stir-fried with capsicum, light and tasty. Vehicle parking is easy on the street side within walking distance. There is no fuss in the ambiance and a good sense of belonging in a community. On a cool evening after some rain, Lin, Joe and I tried the fish and tofu soup, not heavily laden but refreshing with a stock that has foundation but not overwhelming. The dumplings are pretty standard but the vinegar laden cucumber salads stimulate the palate.

Some Things Do Not Change, and Others Do

I had been there countless times for lunch when I was based at the Advance Bank Australia in North Sydney. This was a venue for good memories, for good food and good company. Perched on the top of a slope before the road turns down towards the Sydney Harbour Bridge, depending on where a person approached, one had to climb up a gradient or just stroll on an even path. It must have been sixteen years or more since the owners started there, having moved from Milsons Point. The couple who ran this place now have grown up children, and the husband still maintains a youthful look, despite years of cooking inside the kitchen, for that was his primary job. I am amazed that many of the staff members remained loyal to Irene and her hubby after all these years. On the Saturday I visited aftre so many years, I found out that it was their last day of operation there. The place was crowded - we shared a common table with two radiographer British tourists, Daniel and Liz, who were brought there for lunch by a resident work mate, Lily.

Some things change and others do not. Later that afternoon, I was whisked off to what the Australian media would term an ethnic enclave. This was a mixed business and cultural suburb, with both Chinese and Indian varieties of retail available. I was fascinated by the Indian products and produce on sale, ranging from furniture to bags of basmati rice to festive cakes and freeze-dried sealed ready to eat meals. My mates and I were the only non-Indians in both shops we explored. On the Chinese side, we enjoyed freshly squeezed Queensland sugar cane juice and Taiwan-inspired cold drinks filled with bits of fruits like longans, lychees, jackfruit, palm sago and other such exotic stuff. Janie and I noticed the long queue at a Hong Kong-fashioned barbecue meats shop. We ran into Ming and his friends who had met up for a late afternoon snack. Jennifer went on a grocery shopping rampage, which included purchases from the seafood guys, the butcher shop, the grocery outlets and more. This dynamic suburb was exactly as I remembered it before I moved to Wollongong.

A vegetarian food fair attended by me on another day brought some surprises on how tasty such food can be, when provided with the right sauce, the right company, the right ingredients and the right spices to speak of. I did not find the concocted dishes bland or disheartening. One dish was served even more delicious than its non-vegetarian and original version. I expected to be extremely thirsty after partaking such dishes, half-suspecting that artificial food flavours must have played a part in their surprising tastiness. I did not suffer the post-eating pangs for thirst - to me it was a delightful surprise!