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.
Kindly Yours - A collection of writings, thoughts and images. This blog does contain third party weblinks. No AI content is used.
Saturday, 10 November 2007
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.
Thursday, 25 October 2007
Celebrating Life……..and Love
With a mellowness in my heart, and I would like to think, as well in my inner soul,
I woke up on an October Sunday morning recently after one of the most beautiful weekends I have experienced. All right, it was actually past noon and I had slept in, as I should, on a lazy morning.
On the surface, it may have been just another series of social functions. However, stirring my inner cycle of strength and motivation, I realised that I have been juxtaposed with the right alignment of stars and planets to be sufficiently fortunate to attend, in a row, a series of celebrations and to be able to share in a series of the more important things of human existence. Not just mere things, I should correct myself, but in a true series of remarkable events.
All functions I had attended had one common element – joy and passion. I also strongly felt the sense of achievement celebrated over time, and the culmination of true understanding over time. This is reflected in a contented baby who smiles under his lengthy hair locks. There is the recently wedded couple who are so grateful – and amazed – that they found each other. There is a man who just came of age, so to speak, but who already long ago has such a profound positive effect on his family and friends.
The human heart dwells in symbolism and togetherness. The love of parents for their off spring can be sensed in the holding of a barbeque for the other adults who have come to love the child. The recount of humorous episodes in a young man’s life does not suppress the tender delight in appreciating a busy life from one to twenty one years. There is the quiet and profound mutual care for each other when a couple, very much in love, emphasise their wedding vows to allow each to grow as individuals, but to always be by each other’s side when doing so. Doves may be released in a Japanese-styled garden, or numerous balloons decorate a dining hall – they represent the love of being together, the deep satisfaction of unspoken understanding and the fun that life chooses to bestow.
In each function attended that weekend, there were the three generations gathered under one roof. New grandparents, or long time nannas who have an inner peace in their countenance, beaming over the gathering of the clan. There may be the awkward silence of sets of parents brought to sit with each other when they have nothing in common, except that their children chose to fall in love for each other. There is renewal in the bridal waltz. There is experience with a very cluey twenty something generation in the prime of their young lives. I could feel the comfort in the cocoons of unspoken care at each party. There was consideration from mates who bore the brunt of logistics organising the complexities of an all day wedding. This is more so personified by a sister who dearly missed not being able to talk to a sibling every day, as was possible not too long ago.
The vibes and feelings from a special 36 hours consolidated into a calming influence.
I went into auto mode as my subconscious digested all these messages exerting themselves in a heady mix. I did not have to make the effort to rationalise too much about these emerging thoughts. To be able to find true love is sublime. To then create a new generation, when and if they choose to do so, is to move into another expression of love. What is truly exquisite is to be able to see and realise how well your off spring have grown up to be.
I woke up on an October Sunday morning recently after one of the most beautiful weekends I have experienced. All right, it was actually past noon and I had slept in, as I should, on a lazy morning.
On the surface, it may have been just another series of social functions. However, stirring my inner cycle of strength and motivation, I realised that I have been juxtaposed with the right alignment of stars and planets to be sufficiently fortunate to attend, in a row, a series of celebrations and to be able to share in a series of the more important things of human existence. Not just mere things, I should correct myself, but in a true series of remarkable events.
All functions I had attended had one common element – joy and passion. I also strongly felt the sense of achievement celebrated over time, and the culmination of true understanding over time. This is reflected in a contented baby who smiles under his lengthy hair locks. There is the recently wedded couple who are so grateful – and amazed – that they found each other. There is a man who just came of age, so to speak, but who already long ago has such a profound positive effect on his family and friends.
The human heart dwells in symbolism and togetherness. The love of parents for their off spring can be sensed in the holding of a barbeque for the other adults who have come to love the child. The recount of humorous episodes in a young man’s life does not suppress the tender delight in appreciating a busy life from one to twenty one years. There is the quiet and profound mutual care for each other when a couple, very much in love, emphasise their wedding vows to allow each to grow as individuals, but to always be by each other’s side when doing so. Doves may be released in a Japanese-styled garden, or numerous balloons decorate a dining hall – they represent the love of being together, the deep satisfaction of unspoken understanding and the fun that life chooses to bestow.
In each function attended that weekend, there were the three generations gathered under one roof. New grandparents, or long time nannas who have an inner peace in their countenance, beaming over the gathering of the clan. There may be the awkward silence of sets of parents brought to sit with each other when they have nothing in common, except that their children chose to fall in love for each other. There is renewal in the bridal waltz. There is experience with a very cluey twenty something generation in the prime of their young lives. I could feel the comfort in the cocoons of unspoken care at each party. There was consideration from mates who bore the brunt of logistics organising the complexities of an all day wedding. This is more so personified by a sister who dearly missed not being able to talk to a sibling every day, as was possible not too long ago.
The vibes and feelings from a special 36 hours consolidated into a calming influence.
I went into auto mode as my subconscious digested all these messages exerting themselves in a heady mix. I did not have to make the effort to rationalise too much about these emerging thoughts. To be able to find true love is sublime. To then create a new generation, when and if they choose to do so, is to move into another expression of love. What is truly exquisite is to be able to see and realise how well your off spring have grown up to be.
Wednesday, 24 October 2007
The Curry Club
It's a cloudy afternoon, an easy looking day that threatened with impending rain but also promised hints of the weather cooling down. This group of work colleagues - and friends -had planned an outing to the local curry joint, more of an imposing complex with an adjoining pub and with intricate drawings of southern Indian sculptures. We looked forward to this opportunity of sitting down in the airy outdeck of the venue and savouring various concoctions and condiments, downed with - not beer this time - subcontinental styled pancakes called rotis. A few of us were really famished as we arrived, having being busy in the office for the whole morning.
The seven of us had not had an opportunity to gather and partake such food together for a long time. Each of us ordered a sampling of meat curries served with basmati rice and bottled water. I enjoyed the creaminess of the essentially Northern Indian curries, whether with lamb, tandoori chicken or a helping of salad. I quietly reflected that southern Indian food from Kerala and Tamil Nadu had less dairy and more the whiff and sensation of tropical spices. India is such a varied place with different sub-cultural groups from the Himalayas to the Indian Ocean.
Those present in our little group must have had varied experiences of what curry means, from the United Kingdom, South-east Asia to Zanzibar. The bento-styled thali (or plate) offered a wholesome meal in one go. Still, we needed what can be described as "something to wash the mouth" after the main meal. Pete and I chose the mango kulfi as dessert, with yoghurt in the blend. Ann-Marie and Alison selected Italian-influenced cuppacinno, while Katie had hot chocolate. John, who has been the strong encourager in this curry club, was as happy as me that this gathering had taken place. Chandra and I talked of the possibility of incorporating the king of fruits - durians - to the curry club, but then it would have taken the focus off our fav Asian food.
The seven of us had not had an opportunity to gather and partake such food together for a long time. Each of us ordered a sampling of meat curries served with basmati rice and bottled water. I enjoyed the creaminess of the essentially Northern Indian curries, whether with lamb, tandoori chicken or a helping of salad. I quietly reflected that southern Indian food from Kerala and Tamil Nadu had less dairy and more the whiff and sensation of tropical spices. India is such a varied place with different sub-cultural groups from the Himalayas to the Indian Ocean.
Those present in our little group must have had varied experiences of what curry means, from the United Kingdom, South-east Asia to Zanzibar. The bento-styled thali (or plate) offered a wholesome meal in one go. Still, we needed what can be described as "something to wash the mouth" after the main meal. Pete and I chose the mango kulfi as dessert, with yoghurt in the blend. Ann-Marie and Alison selected Italian-influenced cuppacinno, while Katie had hot chocolate. John, who has been the strong encourager in this curry club, was as happy as me that this gathering had taken place. Chandra and I talked of the possibility of incorporating the king of fruits - durians - to the curry club, but then it would have taken the focus off our fav Asian food.
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