Oppressive, and not just the heat

The summer air was so still, nothing moved. Not a single leaf budged on the trees. Even the ceiling down lights at home exuded a sense of radiating warmth, besides being mere sources of light. Sweat persistently came down my back and there was no breeze to moderate the effects. Cleaning the car in my home garage was overwhelming with the high humidity. Taking a nap in this weather in the middle of the day was akin to baking one's self, but my subconscious continued to do its work.

Even if it was not night, the subconscious for a while went full speed in re-thinking matters and offering symbolic insights into possible solutions. These involved a set of several characters whom I had initially wished I had not met and known. However, life makes me cross paths with these individuals, so that I have an opportunity to learn - and move on. Now I should count myself so lucky. The more each of them provides me their antics, they have only served to reinforce my convictions that:

- their actions only reflect upon themselves, if only they have the sense to look at their inner selves in the mirror;

- I appreciate so much more deeply and in a more determined way the reliability of my true friends, family and myself; and

- what goes around comes around, and that at the end of it all, it does not matter what role you play in a contrived business or work environment, only what role you play where it counts, in the business of life itself.

I threw back oppression to where it belonged, to its source.

Jakarta di Kingsford

Sepanjang hari dan malam, hujan jatuh tiada berhenti. Beberapa saudara-mara terkumpul dalam restauran terletak di Kingsford, dekat kampus utama Universiti New South Wales. Sudah lama saya tidak dapat peluang bergaul dan makan malam dengan hidangan Nusantara Indonesia. Selepas duduk, kami boleh dengar dan lihat satu saluran siaran TVRI.

Makanan Jakarta ada hubungan dengan makanan dari kampungku diPulau Pinang. Ayam bakar dari Java memang hampir makanan Inche Kabin. Rojak dan gaduh gaduh di jual pun di Semanunjung Malaysia, tetapi cara membuat bihun goreng dan sup bihun berlainan.
Ais campur Shanghai terlalu manis, tetapi dihidangkan dengan buah buahan exotik, seperti buah nangka. Cendol terlampau warna hijau dan tidak cukup kelemakan dengan santan yang digunakan.

Majoriti pelanggan di restaurant itu adalah pelajar universiti dari Malaysia, Singapura dan Indonesia. Hidangan yang mereka makan sehampir dengan masakan ibu bapa mereka. Terdapat beberapa kedai makan ala Indonesia dekat Anzac Parade, dengan nama semacam Ratu Sari dan Ayam Goreng Jakarta. Makanan halal pun boleh didapat di dalam satu atau dua kedai. Negara Indonesia tentulah hanya dekat dengan Australia.

Neither Rain nor Hail

Catching up with good and long-term friendships do nourish the soul. Even if I had to do it facing the challenges of inclement weather, it was all worth every minute.

This had been a rather wet summer, and mixed with the thick fogs on the freeway between Wollongong and Sydney. It is good to have survived the threats of unpredictable hail, wind slide, torrential showers and just getting persistently soaked.

The Big Smoke became the Big Wet on Friday, a day when I seemed to stand on the verge of change. I caught up with three new consultants I engaged to work on forthcoming projects, had to say goodbye to someone at work whom I thoroughly enjoyed interacting with, had a refreshing professional chat and then submitted myself to quadrant cleaning at the end of the day. By the time I had my appointment at the surgery, I was looking like a wet dog, maybe reflecting the mixed emotions I faced inside. I also re-discovered the pleasures of taking the commuter train, coming across situations that make me increasingly take for granted my ten-minute daily commute to work. I observed how we human beings adapt - and on this long train ride between Thirroul and Sydney Central and back, there is this combination of technology aids, good old-fashioned reading and healthy conversations to make use of our valuable time. I empathised with a 24 year old fellow passenger, George, who was confronted by ticketing inspectors when he left his pass in the office - he was then subject to disclosure of his private and personal details right in front of the nearby passengers, and maybe he should have been questioned in a private corner. I know George is 24 because we all overheard him being asked to state his birthday - 13May 1983. Would a lady have been subject to this kind of disclosure?

On the most recent Sunday I had gone to a Home maker Centre in Castlehill, melting under the oppressive humidity of the sunny afternoon. When I resurfaced from the basement car park 45 minutes later, the sky was ominously overcast and threatening to bring in a Sydney surprise, with reminders of the Turramurra Tornado or snow falling on a Blue Mountains Christmas Day (right in the smack of summer here). I persisted in my intentions to visit a friend who had completed a working year long stint in Singapore, and with her parents who had returned from a sojourn in Alice Springs.

Mid-week, the visiting mother of another good friend was cooking some home-made soul food to welcome back the return from hospital of another close friend. A severe storm warning had been issued on the internet and other media for the Sydney metropolitan area - and I was headed for its lower north shore in Artarmon. Getting out of Wollongong by road already proved risky - and not to mention the ensuing traffic chaos in evening rush hour in cbd streets. I circumvented the city proper and drove on its nearby fringe suburban roads, but still ran smack into a half-hour parking lot vehicular jam heading south on Epping Road near Macquarie Park and University. Whilst enjoying Justin Timberlake on stereo, intermittent updates from local radio assured me that the storm had somehow by passed the city and moved on tot he Central Coast of New South Wales.

At Thirroul rail station, after coming back from Sydney at 830pm,I had to call for a taxicab as the windy showers played around with plans for walking and whatever sense of comfort. Jason, who came to pick me up, was a natural smiler like a much appreciated beacon in the stormy night. A young father of a three year old, and with a Greek background, to me he epitomises the good Australian - positive thinking, friendly, practising the much talked about concept of the fair-go and unassumingly sincere. Jason faces whatever challenges with a bright resonance - and neither rain nor hail will stop him in his path. I felt his eyes, countenance and whole soul light up in delight when he talks of his young son, wife and family.