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.

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.

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.