Penang Island circa 2008

Perth-originated coffee chain DOME operates an outlet in the shipliner shaped Queensbay Mall.


Diverse fresh and dried herbs on sale in an open air Sunday market.





































Handsomely restored front of Pernanakan terrace from the early 20th century.


Romantic getaway in bungalow perched over the seaside near Mouse Isle.


Biscuit varieties on display in traditional storage jars at Belissa Row grocer.

The Equinox

Equal daylight, equal night hours. Whether you are in the north or south, there is a feeling of environmental equity. In Wollongong, the rather warm weather persists, with summer-like harshness of sunlight at noon and at daybreak. The full moon on an equinox evening adds to the alignment of the heavens, earth and the calendar. Catholic and Protestant Easter falling on March 21st this year meant the start of the long weekend in Western countries. I subconsciously await for signs of fall, but only see, with delight, mandarins and Tahitian limes sprouting fruit in my garden.

Autumn normally flags a cooler time, perhaps suited doing the inevitable chore of clothes ironing, but not so far. People do send their laundry to be crisply ironed for a fee, but I secretly enjoy the motion and mindlessness of such a house task. I sip in the rather calming effect of unique tea blends called Morning Flower and Stockholm ( do they grow tea in Sweden?). With more discretionary time, I dabble in a frenzy of cooking, ranging from stir-fried hokkien noodles accompanied by oyster chicken bites to trying new marinade mixtures on meat roasts. I can assume another existence in another world, away from the regime of paid employment and feel like the flora still boisterously growing in my yard.

It may be the supposed season of reconciliation, but I am reminded of the opposite.
A paid subscription to the Sydney Morning Herald sees its delivery cancelled by Fairfax for unbeknown reasons. A sales woman in an aquarium shop in the battler suburb of Warrawong treats me as if I do not exist, even as I was intently looking at some beautiful fishes. However, I view these as minor transgressions, for the overworked check out lady at Woolworths Shellharbour can still manage a smile, a stranger in the queue can chat easily with me ( and I love his Italian accent) and the sales guys at my local Supa Cheap Auto take initiative to ask what I am looking for.

As time whittles away the earlier prospect of five nights and four days on a long weekend, I bury myself with the detail of cleaning the wheel chrome of my car, a current obsession of mine after an advice from a good mate - "never let the dirt grow and nip it in the bud". There is time to catch up on sleep debt and sink into magazines waiting for my attention in the lounge. To underline the significance of cyberspace and computers, I fretted for days on end when my home desktop refused to fire up, but on one miraculous night, the monitor and the cpu decided to come back from holiday.

The evening before the equinox, I had driven to Burwood in Sydney's inner west to attend a birthday party. It was good to start the holidays with friends, and two of them announced an engagement. The Sydney traffic on holiday eve was horrendous to go through, especially with this Australian habit of imposing double demerit points to deduct from your driving license on top of the monetary fines for road offences. However, there was no breath analyser test along Tom Ugly's Bridge on the way back to Wollongong, despite a strong police presence only a week ago. On the night of the equinox, a home cooked dinner spread awaited the fortunate few invited to my Carlingford cousin's home - food galore with lively chats and reunited friends. Like a pause in otherwise ordinary routine, we enjoyed this moment, when the Earth itself as a planet was not tilting as it otherwise does.

Burglars

Without a prompt, I reflected that several years ago today, a group of burglars broke into my residence in a Sydney suburb. I was having a whale of a time enjoying the Royal Easter Show with an aunt and cousin. When I came back at midnight, flushed with the delights of the day and company, I found the glass sliding doors of a back room facing the back courtyard had been aggressively smashed. There was the expected mayhem of scattered things and being trespassed. It was my only time of experiencing such a burglary. For months, they put the fear in my inner soul about the uncertainty of things, despite all our precautions, preparations and planning.

Maybe the thieves needed all that stuff of mine more than me. I wonder where they are now, and whether they do recall the owners of houses they have broken into. Thankfully, I was not inside the house when they assertively carried out their burglary. What they stole as physical things, another dear aunt in Penang assured me, can always be repurchased in a better model and fashion.

This morning, many years later, I realized that these burglars have inevitably enriched me in matters that count, rather than steal mere physical things. That incident has made me realize, with greater intensity, the temporary nature of things in general and negative feelings in particular. It has reminded me to exercise better the art of detachment, rather than cling to the traps of attachment. The burglars had imposed their will upon me, without a care or concern for how I would react. I now know better on how to draw a line between their imposition and my response. I am more conscious of meeting my own expectations rather than those of the burglars - and also not to let them intrude into my heart, for they have only intruded into my space.

In contrast, the stolen items were never recovered, the attending police having only superficially examined the scene of the crime 48 hours later despite immediate reporting by me and quickly concluding that the remaining fingerprints left behind were too vague. The police investigation led to nowhere.

I also ponder, when some people whom I occasionally meet carry on with their airs, promise things to me that they never intend to fulfil and ignore me the instant they feel they do not require my cooperation or interaction anymore. Like the burglars, they only think of themselves and their narrow agendas. I wonder if they are conscious of the negative manner in which they carry themselves and say things to my face. I try to understand if the verbal promises they make are only a bit of hot air or mere social talk. I am amused that they have chosen that path - and how blatant they can be in continuing to milk me dry instead of mutually nourishing each other.

I draw the line. I smile and minimize my dealings with such individuals. I then let go of my previous expectations and review my apparent attachment to them. I allow them the liberty to act as they wish and smile again when they get no answers in my reaction. I relish the thought that they cannot take from me anymore, but that instead they have unintentionally taught me to move on – away from them and their antics.

Things happen for a reason, I recall this advice – and how delightful an experience!