Balmy in a Bungalow

After dinner, it seemed the perfect time to write. The blokes have gone for a walk in the unexpectedly deserted beach, beer stubbies swaggering on hand. The evening air was balmy but not that nippy for this time of the year. The ocean let out a low key murmur and splash, and then went on repeatedly. There were no coconut trees overhead, for this was too far south the eastern seaboard of Australia, but the abandonment of care and the utter lack of sense of time was most rewarding and enveloped the young night.

And what a dinner it was. We started with a rather thick piece of individually served fresh salmon, doused lightly with a refreshing hint of garnish that brought out the inherent sense of the seas rather than overwhelm it. I saw on a side table the cupcakes and the strawberry gourmet ice cream dollops waiting for us. The main course caught me by surprise, a possibly fusion creation that combined soy sauced chicken cuts cooked lovingly in a curry that brought out sensations of cumin, cinnamon sticks and pomelo seeds. Its spiciness was not diluted but rose sufficiently above the savoury texture of double cooked chicken. It reminded me of a dish in the household of a marriage between a southern Chinese and a Brahmin Indian. And the common binding element was the fluffy well steamed rice.

The ice cream amazingly came with fresh mangosteen - the succulent white folds had a firm tastiness that offered a contrasting relief from the curry heat. This was much better than biting into cheese and biscuits at this juncture, and continued the tropical theme for the sit down meal. I thought of white planters from a few generations ago perhaps taking in all these in the middle of the plantation they were stationed in. They wore white - much more stark white than the white haziness of the insides of each purple-coloured mangosteen. Did they get salmon as the entree? Most probably not, in those times - it would have been just bread rolls and butter.

Yes, I was on holiday, and at that moment, nothing topped up a satisfying meal than a cupcake. I chose the apple flavoured version. A latte was the finale, a post script to the dry Carlton that accompanied the curry very well.

A Touch of Thai

Stupa shaped Bushes

Jana at the satay barbie


Paratha Pancakes on the Grill


Glutinious Rice Pack Delicacies


Grilled Skewed Eggs


Family Stall


Savoury Sweet Dessert


Honey Bees from Kentlyn


Making of Paw Paw Salad



Paratha Pancake Guys


Songkran Sanuk
Sanuk: the feeling of utter inner joy with abandon, as in sheok (colloquial in Malaysia or Singapore) or hoi sum (Cantonese).
Songkran: Thai celebration of the New Year, usually in April and involving random fun acts of throwing water in public on each other.
Leumeah: Sydney venue of Campbelltown Shire's Thai temple, on grounds that represent and evoke a living forest.

Riding Along and Taking In the View

We may only recognise the full value of appreciated things until we no longer have it. I remind myself to take ten minutes a day to realise what went right and what was achieved each day. The proportion of problems to achievements usually fall into
5 and 95 percent respectively. And then - aren't problems also opportunities?

Ninety days have passed through in the so-called new year. I have had reunions, catch-ups and meetings with people I think really matter. I also acknowledge that I should see other people dear to my heart as well - and have not. Summer this time had not been intense. The mint in my back yard has revitalised these hot autumn days coupled with its coolish nights. The icebergs and yellow bush roses are starting to bloom. Every time I go into a department store or hotel, I want to re-organise my home. When I put my mind to it, I rediscover the joys of cooking.

I have kept on pursuing some things important to me, but there has been no tangible result. At the same time, I take secret delight in things that have gone well. I cherish the smiles of individuals who in their own special ways let me know they are there for me. I have had the pleasure and fortune to get to know certain personalities better. There was also an awakening in me to balance my life after work in better fashion with life working. I am glad that I have turned around unpleasant encounters into something useful, underlying the old adage of it's all how we react to things thrown at us that is most critical - and not the things themselves.

Starting with fireworks over the Sydney Harbour Bridge on New Year's Eve, and now on the cusp of Easter, Ching Ming, Songkran, the Hindu New Year and all these festivals that congregate in April, I fully take in that the experience is the journey and not the destination. I most fondly recall my return to Penang Hill in my home city; cooking rissoles; riding a citicat boat along the Brisbane River, with the wind full on my face; enjoying a late night dessert along Liang Seah Street, Singapore; tucking in Haberfield, Sydney; and enjoying work with one of the best teams in my career. There are more, like the karaoke night with Mum, brothers and Aunty Kuchai and company in her house. And freshly cooked meals prepared from the inner heart, wherever I go visit. All these give me the motivation, courage and excitement to go even more forward.

Return to Brisbane

Brisbane Revisited

Singapore noodles (char bee hoon) at 20 Aussie dollars a plate? I could get that for half the price even in downtown Sydney. And a quarter of that price in Singapore itself. Maybe I was at a touristy place, a food joint in the middle of Queen Street Mall. Couple that with a huge glass of fat yak, teenagers hanging around as in any cbd and a lively air unexpected of a Tuesday night. Welcome to Brisbane.

The evening before, there were a fair share of fitness-conscious runners and group barbies humming along the South Bank. When Shane arrived from Adelaide late at night, we had gone over for a quick drink - and chose to have it in an unusual combination of a a liquor shop with a serving bar. I had never seen one like that in other parts of Oz, but I do not exactly hold a good record of pub-hopping. Welcome to Brisbane.

Queen Street Mall has always fascinated me, whether after a State of Origin NRL game between NSW and Queensland, or on an unassuming evening after a whole day of conference. In late March, the air is till balmy and inviting. I think it must be one of the longest pedestrian malls Down Under. This time, I realised that it is not flat like Pitt Street Mall in Sydney or Bourke Street in Melbourne, but actually has an incline. What I also did not expect was a teenage guy begging for money - not in Brisbane I thought, with the same aghast when I first encountered such beggars along George Street in Sydney CBD in the mid-nineties.

On the other hand, there was a pleasant surprise in encountering a sort of compact marsupial under the moon light in the river side Botanical Gardens. The creature, with endearing big eyes, was as taken aback as us on a wide clear path. It seemed to be nursing an injured limb. We could see the Wheel of Brisbane, in all its white fluorescent glory, across the Brisbane River. The river is the pulse of Brisbane, offering secret delights and perspectives. Mine this time was to feel the wind in my face, as I stood at the front of a Citicat boat chugging up to Queensland University at St. Lucia. The deck hand had to tie the ropes up each time we approached a stop -and there were many. He then had to untie them when we left. Observing this gave me a sense of rhythm about life on the river banks - a timelessness of routine, patience and getting things done.

I loved using the waffle machine at breakfast one morning, churning them out before splashing each piece with honey. The gadget operated automatically, although it gave a human feel to the experience, providing supple waffles of the right taste and texture every time.

Oh ya, the stir-fried rice vermicelli ala Singapore was indeed delicious, better than in Sydney. It was garnished with lots of fresh and spicy-hot red chili cuts. Even the convention centre food was great. I was reluctant to leave Brisbane.