My Father

As I write, my dad is warded with a bad case of pneumonia and the infection had spread to his heart, causing a heart failure. Considering how badly he was doing, he's now waiting to be moved back to the general ward, and the doctors are working to get him home by Christmas. I'd described his comeback from the brink as a fight on his part, one of the many that he had through his life.

Dad was born in a poor family of a widow and her 4 boys in Malaysia, working to make ends meet through harvesting pineapples on a plantation. My grandfather passed away while my granny was still pregnant with dad, so he was born into this world on the back foot. It was typical type of life for a poor boy in the pre-war years: you barely get a few years of school before your parents expect you to quit school and to start working. Somehow, dad knew that a good education was his way out of poverty, so he persisted. However, the start of his education couldn't have been worse, as the Imperial Japanese soldiers overran Peninsula Malaysia, throwing daily life into chaos. He often told me stories of how cruel the Japanese soldiers were, from kicking and slapping passerbys who did not bow to them, to accounts of how the soldiers were throwing babies up into the air and bayoneting them for sport. 

When the war ended, dad started school but because he'd lost a few schoolyears due to the disruption of the war, he was older than most of his classmates. My granny didn't have money to buy shoes for all her four children, so they took turns to wear them, until one day, the principal told dad that he couldn't attend school if he didn't wear shoes. Dad went home and told granny about it, and promptly received a belting for wasting money for the sake of education. I can't remember how the matter was resolved, but dad did complete his education, and won himself a scholarship to study at Chung Cheng High School in Singapore.

Dad stayed in a hostel in school, and got by with very basic meals such a porridge with salted vegetables or pickled olives, a poor man's diet. He recounted how the other students gave poor students like himself a hard time, and I guess that how he built up a siege mentality, believing that no one but himself would help me succeed. It's a sad thing to believe so, but I guess, he was so determined to succeed, he built up these walls to keep himself going.

He did well enough to win himself a scholarship that earned him a place in the Nanyang University (now known as Nanyang Technological University), where he graduated with a history degree. He then received training to become a teacher in Singapore's infant years, playing a role in educating our young nation's future. However, as schools using Chinese as a medium of teaching started getting phased out, dad was redesignated as a Chinese language teacher. It was to be his first, and only job that he held his whole life. 

His hunger for a better life for his family was what kept him going, and his belief that no one would do him any favours (apart from the scholarships, for which he's always grateful for) pushed him even harder. Whether real or perceived, it drove my dad to work hard and to put up with the injustices he felt that he had been dealt with. Sadly though, I think because of the wall that he had built up to protect himself, he might've limited his social circle as a result. He hardly had any hobbies, for whatever time he had, he spent reading the papers, marking test papers at home, and spending time tutoring us in Chinese (a major labour of love on his part, I can assure you). However, I do remember the very human and loving side to my dad: coming home beaming to a couple of excited young boys with a cake because it's our birthday (an indulgence in our household, I can assure you), playing table tennis with us and the best memory I have: dad watching me practice for my primary school sports day on the field, excitedly trying the hurdles, while he stood by the side watching me, and chatting happily as he took me home on the public bus.

He pushed us extremely hard, wanting us to strive for the best in life, memories of his own struggles very much on his mind. Academic excellence was of paramount importance, and he pushed us so hard that it frayed relations, especially during our rebellious teenage years. I must admit that I was the bum of the family, and was the only child who spent the undergraduate years overseas. But as the years went by, I grew to appreciate my parents' sacrifices for us. Without my dad's funding, I wouldn't have had an university education, meaning my career options would be somewhat limited. I remember a story one of my brothers told me of a visit to the supermarket with my father, how one cashier screamed excitedly when she saw dad. It was a former student of his, and subsequently, she ran to the backroom and reappeared with more excited colleagues, of all whom were his former students, and they gathered around him like a bunch of schoolchildren once more, catching up with their teacher. It's a story that I'd never forget, for it was one that showed me how his students viewed him.

When he retired years ago, he had served in that school for almost 30 years, and the students actually made him a sedan chair, and carried him around. Such was the respect that the students had for him. Anecdotes recounted by his former students revealed a caring teacher, respected and feared by students in equal measures, a strict teacher who cared about their progress. Now, as an educator, I want to be like my father.


The years since retirement has taken a toll on him. The arrival of my nephew gave him much joy, and he was nothing like the feared father that he was to us, in the way he treated my nephew. Once my nephew threw a tantrum and I disciplined him, his crying led to my dad popping him head around the corner and gently asking me to not tick my nephew off anymore. Even as I recall that episode, I can't help but be tickled by it. My dad, the strict disciplinarian, asking me to go easy on my nephew. Oh how the times have changed! One of my fondest memory of them playing together, was the two of them rolling on the floor, laughing joyously. Then, the years of failing health came.


He was struck down by stroke in the early 2000s, coupled with the onset of Parkinson's Disease and dementia. The giant of a man that I had known, feared and respected, slowly shrank literally. His once loud clear speech now slurred, his brisk gait now slowed to a shuffle. Mind you though, his mind is still as lucid as ever, and is ever game for a debate about politics and current affairs. 


I am glad to write that when Kat and I visited last night, we were overwhelmed by the sight of him sitting in the armchair, all intravenous tubes out of him, and he's already on semi-solid food. In fact, the hospital is already ready to release him to the general ward. By the Grace of God and the prayers of our friends, dad is hopefully well on his way to a recovery. I'm pretty damned sure he had fought the illness with the same determination that he overcame his life of struggles. No matter what, my father, will always be the giant of a man that I've always known him to be.

It's Been A Year

Usually, in the case of my blog, an entry with such a title usually means I'm melancholic again, but not this time! This time, it's about somthing completely the opposite: my first wedding anniversary.

There's been some confusion amongst my friends (especially those who stalk, I mean, faithfully follow, my updates on Facebook) about my wedding date. Ok, for the benefit of friends who are not familiar with the customs of Chinese weddings, here's the clarification.

Kat and I got married in a civil ceremony a year ago, which LEGALLY made us man and woman. However, in the eyes of the old folks, that meant nothing and that we were still living in sin until the relatives got invited to a wedding banquet, and tea is served to the elders in a Chinese tea ceremony. That didn't happen until June this year, hence the confusion.

Due to an unfortunate coincidence, I was supposed to attend a work-related training camp on the weekend which coincided with the anniversary. Fortunately, the training was postponed and I was able to spend our first anniversary together. With that in mind, I contacted a team mate of ours who owns an Italian restaurant in Holland Village, and he promptly got back to me with a lovely set menu. Of course, I kept Kat in the dark about the dinner plan, completely intending to surprise her.


Saturday was a a bit of a rush around for us, waking up late and then pottering around the house before going for lunch with my family. I was really surprised that she didn't ask where we were going for dinner, because if I'd mentioned Holland Village, I reckoned she might suggest Amici (the Italian restaurant owned by our friend). However, even when we got to Holland Village, she still didn't mention anything, so I guess my plan to distract her by talking about the new Circle Line (we took the Circle Line to Holland Village) somehow worked. By a stroke of fortune, she'd wanted to go to the bank to get some cash, and it happened that the restaurant was only a couple of doors away. My excuse to her for walking towards the restaurant was that I'd wanted to pop in to see if our friend was there (I knew he was away for an event, but she doesn't). It was only when we walked through and I told the staff that we had a reservation for two, then she realised. Naturally, she was delighted.

After a little bit of sorting out, we were shown to our table, and it was so thoughtful: the manager opened the door and there it was, a table just for the two of us at the little balcony. It couldn't have been better because as we were walking through the restaurant, I was thinking that it's a tad crowded for a nice anniversary dinner. The cool thing was also the looks that people were giving us when the manager revealed the special table. 


The dinner started off with 2 glasses of Prosecco sparkling wine, which was perfect as the evening was a little warm and humid. For a wine that's supposed to be dry or even extra dry, it was surprisingly sweet, reminding us of our favourite Moscato wine.

Antipasto platter

First up: Italian antipasto platter topped with cold cuts. Finally! We could have our taste of Amici's food! To be honest, we were starting to get rather hungry, and we polished off the plate in no time.
 

Homemade wild mushroom soup

Next up: Homemade wild mushroom soup. As you can see, there's lots of nice chopped up pieces of mushroom, something I enjoy. I like the earthy taste of the mushrooms, which was pleasant without the need for salt. Actually, I was glad that the soup had a nice subtle taste to it as I'd tasted many with too much salt in it. Honestly, I'd read a nasty comment accusing the restaurant of using canned soup, which I thought is extremely unfair. 

Gorgonzola beef tenderloin

And for the mains: Kat had the Chilean cod fish and the red meat lover in me went for the Gorgonzola beef tenderloin. I think Kat summed it up best: she normally shys away from cod due to the taste, but she thoroughly enjoyed it! We'd thought that it must be because it was fresh, but we were surprised that they use frozen cod. Wow! We really couldn't tell! We've always had apprehension about frozen seafood because they usually get mushy when defrosted, but the one we had was beautifully flaky. I guess it's a combination of a good supplier, as well as good preparation by the chef. As for the beef, it was beautifully medium rare, and tender, the way I love it! This meat lover was in heaven!

Chilean cod fish

The award winning tiramisu!

And for dessert, it's the award winning tiramisu. The strange thing about us, is that we were never really much of dessert lovers. In fact, I tended to shy away from them because of the sugar. However in recent years, we've been partial towards cakes mainly to go with our coffee (we both love coffee). Greedy me, while Kathy was still snapping pictures of her tiramisu, I took a quick shot and got down to business. Picking up my spoon, I cut the corner of the tiramisu: mmm.. nice colour, looks moist.. let's see how it tastes. The first words that came to my mouth was "Oh my God!". Honestly, my words can barely do justice to the tiramisu. It was beautifully moist, with the lovely taste of the alcohol and cocoa, and when it goes down, you get an immediate sense of warmth in the chest and goes right into your face. Mind you, I'm not a fan of hugely sweet desserts (pavlova being the only exception), and Amici's tiramisu was in no way overwhelmingly sweet. I kept bugging Willie (the owner) to share the secret ingredient in his tiramisu, but he was tight lipped about it.


It was the perfect way to end the evening, literally on a (sugar) high. 

About the restaurant: Amici Authentic Italian Restaurant is located at 275 Holland Avenue (Holland Village), just a short walk from the Holland Village MRT station. It's a little cosy restaurant with an open kitchen, so if you like watching your food being prepared, you're in for a treat. Alfresco seating is available as well. I like the murals on the walls which has a nice feel to it. The restaurant is usually packed on weekends, so reservation is a must if you do not want to be disappointed. We were quite bemused with some unreasonable walk-ins who were actually upset when they could not secure a seat. There wasn't an available seat in sight the evening we were there, so do bring a little bit of patience on weekends, it isn't Pastamania ;) Actually, we have been to the Pastamania at Fusionopolis after gym once, and considering that there were only a handful of customers who were there (all of whom were already dining) and more than adequate staff, we weren't impressed that 2 salads and garlic bread took more than 15 minutes and 2 reminders before it was served.

DISCLAIMER: I am by no means a qualified food critic, so everything that is written here is merely someone who enjoys food, and I make no pretenses of being a food expert. This blog entry is just a recollection of a wonderful evening I'd shared with my wife over lovely food and drinks.

Pushing My Physical Limits

It has been ages since I've been training as hard as I have been. It's a combination of reasons, from trying to get fit enough to tackle Mount Kilimanjaro in March 2012, the desire to do my very best in dragon boat, to the simple reason of vanity (if you're surrounded by super buffed team mates every weekend, you'd be self-conscious too).

I've always been involved in competitive sports, which meant that I'd be involved in a lot of intensive training as a team and extra training on my own. I know I risk sounding like an old man reminiscing his lost years, but I remembered how I used to be able to handle tough training everyday and yet recover well enough for the games on weekends. Age has certainly caught up with me. I'm taking forever to recover from my last workout, the "excess baggage" is taking an eternity to shed, and the improvements take longer to materialise. 

The sudden passing of a 21 year old undergraduate at the recent Singapore Standard Chartered marathon shook me up somewhat. I was sharing with some friends that considering his 21km timing (1hour 50minutes), he's definitely no unconditioned slouch. "If anything", I continued, "he'd probably pushed his limits too far". And that was when I stopped... because I would've done the same thing as he did, and with me being twice as old, it might've been me. 


Being a competitive amateur sportsman for most part of my life, I've been bombarded with slogans associating with pushing ourselves past our limits. In fact, it is a scientific principle that in order for the body to improve, we have to push the body harder than what it is normally used to. But the problem is, how many red flags can we afford to ignore until the body really gives out. So why do we take that risk and push ourselves so hard?

My body is telling me that I'm no spring chicken anymore, no matter how hard I try to run away from that fact. When I was in University and at my prime (oh dear, here I go again), I had a bodyfat percentage of 11% and a VO2max of 58ml/kg/min. That was half a lifetime ago, and I'll admit that I'd neglected my fitness for the last couple of years. An old friend of mine called me up a couple of days ago after seeing my pictures on Facebook and asked me how did I get that fat, and welcomed me to the "Fat Boys' Club".

Years ago when I was still playing club rugby, a senior player who was still playing some excellent rugby at the age of 40, told us that "if you want to enjoy your game, get fit!" (that's the succinct version of it, with all the colourful expletives removed). Getting back into competitive sports has given me the motivation once again. Although I'm a lot more chilled than when I last played competitive sports, I still expect myself to give nothing less than 100%, during training and in races. Fortunately for me, Kat is on the same team as me, and she trains just as hard (if not, harder) than I do, and she motivates me as well. There's this desire for us to do the best not just for ourselves, but for our wonderful team mates who keeps encouraging us. That's why it's called a "team sport". 


We just had a long weekend of spending time with friends, so I had to drag my tired ass to the gym today for my lunch workout. I wondered why on earth was I pushing myself so hard, and that I should be enjoying my lunch break, especially at my age. Why do I even bother? The things is, I have no intention of wasting my life away on sedentary pursuits, and I'm inspired by the team mates who are older than me, and twice as fit as I am. I hope that I can be like them when I get to their age.

Singapore River Regatta 2011

A couple of months ago, I'd blogged that Kat and I had decided to pick up dragonboating as a new form of exercise. After less than 4 months of training, with the encouragement of team mates and a spirit of adventure (might have turned out to be "mis-adventure"), we signed up to be in the team for the annual Singapore River Regatta.

I remember how excited yet worried Kat was when I suggested take up dragonboating, because she was worried about whether she could keep up physically. But I know that it was the perfect reason for us to get fitter, because we're both such competitive perfectionists, we would spend extra time getting fitter and stronger (and yes, leaner too). Although I'd done SOME form of dragonboating in the past, it was definitely not as competitive as what we're getting into, and so we felt like ducks out of water. It was definitely difficult at first (even now), but all we could do was to give our best. What made it even tougher for us is that we're newbies joining a team of physically strong and experienced rower, so many a times, we felt quite disheartened when we felt that we had let the team down. Fortunately, we both enjoyed the sport very much and so we kept encouraging each other, exchanging points of views, and that kept the passion for the sport burning. And of course, we were very lucky to have great team mates and a coach who's always encouraging us. Oh, and the age thing played on my minds a little at first, but seeing rowers who were older than us yet WAY fitter, spurred us on.

Despite being so new to the sport, Kat and I were given the chance to row in the Regatta. I guess it was a combination of luck (several key rowers were unable to participate) and that coach had wanted to give as many of us a chance to participate. It'd been ages since I was involved in team sports, and so the nervous energy was building up in the days before the race. It was also somewhat pensive time for me too, remembering how my first exposure to dragonboating was through my participation in the Inter Statutory Board games and the River Regatta's Public Service category about 10 years ago, representing my then employer, NTU. We got the captain of the of the university team, Stephen Loh, to coach us because he was such an obliging chap. The poor fella was probably feeling quite uncomfortable putting staff and lecturers to the whip, but he did manage to get the bunch of misfits competitive enough. He was always encouraging and yet maintaining the respect for the staff. Such as the wonderful person that Stephen was. I was delighted when he decided to be a teacher, as I know that his students would benefit from his personality. Coincidentally, Stephen's younger brother played on the same rugby team as I did. Sadly, in 2007, while on international duty in Cambodia, Stephen and 4 of his team mates perished under freakish conditions. I'm pretty sure that Stephen would be pleased if he knew that I'd decided to row again, so my race was in his memory.

My race was over in a bit more than a minute, while Kat's team was luckier, which managed to qualify for the semis, but failed to qualify for the finals on Sunday. So there it was, in a bit more than the blink of an eye, the race was over. I was disappointed that we didn't go any further in the competition because despite training hard for the last couple of months, the outcome was dictated largely by lane conditions. But the overall atmosphere was completely addictive: we wanted to experience it again! Bloodied and wiser, we're looking forward to next year's program. Dragonboating has played such a big part of our lives, with training on Saturday afternoons and Sunday mornings, the December break is going to feel weird without the usual routine. It's going to be a chance for Kat and myself to work on the off-season training so that we'd be fitter and stronger. We're also going to miss the hard work, camaraderie, post training humour and food sessions (they can REALLY eat! I wonder how they eat so much and yet be so lean). We'll be looking forward to seeing you all again in January, Team Naga!

Our family at the Regatta (picture taken by David Chan)

 

Mount Kinabalu 2011: Getting there

It'd been a massively busy time for me during the school vacation of September to October, being involved in numerous leadership camps which called for me being present at the camps or just following up with the administration of the camps. The end of the 6 week period was marked with the trip to Kota Kinabalu, where we attempted to summit Mount Kinabalu (Malaysia's highest mountain, standing at 4,095m).

It was hardly a good time to be travelling for me because the renovations for our new home had to be confirmed before I left, and fortunately, Kat was a massive pillar of strength for me by handling the details of the renovation, leaving me to focus on my job. 

From this weather...

As there were no direct flights which departed from Singapore on the morning of our departure, we had to take a bus from Singapore to Senai Airport in Johor (Malaysia) to catch our flight to Sabah. The flight didn't get off to a good start as a thunderstorm descended just before our departure. As mentioned previously, I love to travel but I hate the journey, and the two cute little girls sitting behind me morphed into little she-devils and decided that the back of my seat was a football. So much for catching some sleep as I'd only a couple hours of sleep the previous night. And flying for the first time with Air Asia, I doubt if I'll fly with them ever again for flights that are any longer than an hour. I'll save the disparaging remarks about their flight attendants, but what I'm about to relate, I find completely unacceptable. 

I'm always pretty uncomfortable about flying through clouds, and for the flight from Senai, we were surrounded by clouds because of the storm. I've flown through some pretty "interesting" turbulence whenever I flew over Australia, which usually happens during breakfast and coffee will be flying through mid-air. However, the captains would always make announcements assuring the passengers, and keeping them updated about the situation. Nothing of that sort from the Air Asia pilots. Throughout the whole rocky experience, there wasn't a pip from them, not even when the plane dropped for more than a metre and people were screaming. Excellent job. Perhaps making broadcasts costs money too, and being a budget airline, every cent counts. And yeah, Air Asia's motto of "Now everyone can fly"? Well, that applies to the calibre of pilots they hire too. Think about it.

..To this

Suffice to say, I was immensely pleased to land at the KK Low Cost Carrier Terminal. When we alighted onto the tarmac, we were greeted by a brilliant blue sky and fine weather. My first impression of Kota Kinabalu was that it really was quite different from the major cities of Peninsula Malaysia. Development wise, it felt like it was 10 years behind the Malaysian capital of Kuala Lumpur, but everything was so neat and well kept. The pace of life is definitely much slower too. We were driven past the beach front and the neat lines of trees by the road prompted one student to comment that it reminded him of Perth. As we made our way up to the Rose Cabin, located near Kinabalu Park, the pressure in our ears told us that we were making our way up the mountains. We arrived at Rose Cabin after about 2.5hours, we immediately felt the coolness of the altitude, as well as the wind chill. The group took a picture at the little garden with the mountain as the backdrop, but it was covered by heavy clouds, which was a sign of what was to come. 

Storm clouds looming

Just like the rest of Kota Kinabalu, Rose Cabin is rather old but it was clean and well-kept. What was fascinating for me was the gas heater that they used for the shower. I haven't used a gas shower heater for a good 20 odd years now, and I gotta say, a gas heater gives much better heat than electric ones can! During the night, my colleague and I got out on the balcony which has a breathtaking view of the mountain, and I managed to get a couple of shots of the night view. We left the window ajar so that we could enjoy the natural air-conditioning, and it was a rare night of restful sleep considering that I usually don't rest well in a new environment. This would be the last time we would get a good night's sleep for the next couple of days. 


Stay tuned for more stories of my little adventure!

 

 

 

 

KK's water front

Gas shower heater! Old school, but much appreciated

Looking out at the night view of Mt Kinabalu from our balcony

In A Blink Of An Eye..

I've been following an excellent documentary about our local food heritage, named "Foodage", on our local free to air channel. Being a massive foodie (just a nice term to justify my gluttony), I love following any program about food, but this one was of particular interesting because it was about our history as well. 

I love history very much, and it's also because of my interest in history that started me scuba diving (for those of you interested in scuba diving, you can follow my blog on scuba diving. Yes, I do have a lot to say about everything). It wasn't just about knowing the facts about what had happened, but I also enjoy looking at pictures reflecting the yesteryears. Last night's episode followed a local writer, Sylvia Toh Paik Choo, as she walked down Orchard Road and reminisced what stood where along the stretch of Orchard Road which had been massively redeveloped over the last 5 years. 


Lots of wonderful old brand names were thrown up, such as the Fitzpatricks, Yaohan and A&W. I remembered vividly Fitzpatricks and Yaohan, both of which were located in Bukit Timah Plaza, a shopping centre that was a stone's throw away from my parents' home (where I grew up). For those who are familiar with the new Bukit Timah Plaza (that is provided, if anyone really does read this blog.. apart from my ever supportive wife!), Fitzpatricks used to stand at the stretch where the aerobics studio and Popular bookstore now is, whereas Yaohan occupied the present premises of NTUC Finest.

I remembered the fanfare of Yaohan's opening at Bukit Timah Plaza in 1982. They brought in daiko drummers from Japan and I could hear the drums as the bus I was traveling home from school passed Bukit Timah Plaza. There was so much buzz about it and all my schoolmates made plans to visit the store. It was massively exciting for everyone, and it also marked the entry of international brands coming into Singapore as the global trade became a fact of life. Yaohan, a Japanese retail group, first opened in Singapore at Plaza Singapura and it was a destination for my family during our family outings, which would start off with us bundling into the bus towards the famous old Swee Kee chicken rice restaurant along Bras Basah Road, followed by a visit to the games arcade at the top floor of Yaohan, while my mum would go window shop at the departmental store. 

I honestly don't know much of the economics of those days, but I do believe that Yaohan opened in Plaza Singapura in 1974 to cater to the sizable Japanese expatriate community here, many of whom worked in the electronics, manufacturing and maritime industries. I was chummy with a Japanese boy named Takeshi, whose family was our neighbour. I remember him sharing his manga of Ultraman with me, and I remembered that neither of us could speak much of each other's language, but with kids, our common love of Japanese cartoons was a language we both understood.

I learnt from last night's program that the opening of the first MacDonald's at Liat Towers in 1979 (I believe it's where Starbucks and Burger King now stands)  served up a world record for the most number of burgers served in a day. But the first fast food restaurant to come to Singapore was A&W in 1966 along Dunearn Road. I used to pass the restaurant on my way to secondary school where it stood along the canal with its distinctive Minangkabau style thatched roof. Many older (just slightly older) Singaporeans remember the famous root beer float and also its Coney dog, which is hot dog on a bun, drizzled with brown sauce with ground beef. Honestly, the sauce reminds of the consequences of a bad curry dinner, but Kat remembers "Coney dog Tuesday" really well. Singaporeans would squeal at the sight of an A&W restaurant when they travel overseas, and in fact, many who drive to Malaysia would stop at the Ayer Keroh rest stop along the North South Highway just to get their A&W fix. In fact, according to Wikipedia, there have been numerous online petitions to bring A&W back to Singapore (a check on Facebook turns up several such pages). 

Before 7-Eleven opened in 1983, our grocery needs were filled by "ma and pa" shops as well as the ubiquitous "mama" stalls which were the forerunners of the modern convenience stalls. It sold everyday items like newspapers, cigarettes, snacks, simple medication, etc, manned by ethnic Indians who usually hail from India. They were literally corner stalls, and operating out of a literal hole in the wall and is usually stuffed chock a block with merchandise. There was one at my parents' place and I literally grew up with it. The place changed hands just once or twice, so it was basically the same faces since I was a kid. Typical of a mama stall, they knew almost everyone in the neighbourhood since they were the only convenience store for many years, and they were friends to many of the neighbours as well. I was surprised to still see the same man at the stall when I came back from my studies overseas, although he was a lot older. It was a sad indication, a reflection of how fast the years have gone by, how I've grown up, how my own parents have aged. I moved away from home and set up my own, and one day when I came back, the old mama stall was gone. 

Much in Singapore has changed in such a short span of time, and in a blink of an eye, institutions that I had grown up with, are now no more, many of whom have lasted for age. Sounds a lot like life, doesn't it?

When It Is Time To Let Go

I had fully intended to publish the second installment of my trip report to Thailand, but recent developments have meant that it would be inappropriate for me to post my trip report during a period of mourning. You see, my mother-in-law passed away on 13 August 2011. I had thought long and hard about the wisdom on blogging about this since it would mean opening up the wound each time my wife Kat reads this. But rather than recollecting the painful details, I'd like to celebrate her last days, and reflect.

My mother-in-law had been ailing for the last 11 years, and my father-in-law's life revolved around her, bringing her to her treatments and tending to her needs. I was teaching scuba at the island of Tioman when I received news of her passing, and I made a 7 hour journey to be with my wife during her hour of grief. During the funeral rites, various members of the family had spoken to me about my mother-in-law, stories of her last days, and through those unrelated stories, I was able to piece together her last days which lifted my sadness and gloom. And I hope that each time my wife reads this, she will share in the joy which I had gotten from the stories, and I hope that others will be able to find the sunshine in the passing of their loved ones.


I must confess that my parents-in-law pretty much spoil me rotten, and being the only son-in-law (she had two daughters) meant that I was well taken of whenever we made the trip up to Kuala Lumpur to visit them. One of my fondest memories of her was us watching Nick Park's "Shaun the Sheep" on cable TV together, a programme she always enjoyed chuckling along to. The last time I saw her was when Kat and I got married in our customary wedding in Kuala Lumpur in June, and as Kat mentioned, she looked so happy in the photographs. 

Just like most parents, getting her daughter off to a good man was a matter of much vexing for my mother-in-law. According to a distant relative, Uncle Billy, who had been cutting her hair for years, she would often lament about how career driven both daughters are and how she would never be able to see the day when she would see her daughters married. Uncle Billy would always comfort by assuring her that the day will come, and it did this year. 


She was really excited about the whole wedding affair, although to be honest, Kat and I were more interested in getting it over and done with just to please the parents. Just like with any families, my mother-in-law has had her arguments with other relatives, and I was surprised when those relatives turned up for our wedding. I later found out that she had made peace with them, and they duly turned up on our wedding day. Upon hindset, it must've been such a joyous occasion for her.


I had remarked to Kat during the funeral that the events that bring together long lost relatives are Chinese New Year, weddings and funeral, and true enough, the same faces that we saw at our wedding turned up for my mother-in-law's funeral. Indeed, it was under much sadder circumstances than the last time I saw them, but as they started streaming in to pay their respect, I realised that our wedding was the reason for her reconciliation with her kin. It warmed me very much to see them turning up, a sign that the peace had indeed been made. 


About an hour from their home in Kuala Lumpur is the casino city of Genting, hardly like Las Vegas because it is wholly owned by the Genting Group, with little business and residences springing up around the casinos and hotels. My mother-in-law enjoyed the occasional jaunt up to the the mountain peak where the casino is located and played with the slot machines. My parents-in-law were often candid about their trips to Genting as Kat usually frowns upon it and sees it as a waste of money, so for their last trip, I stumbled upon the details from Kat's aunt and uncle-in-law. My mother-in-law had called them up days before her passing and invited them to join my parents-in-law for a trip up to Genting. My aunt recalled that they had an enjoyable time, with my mother-in-law teaching her sister how to play the various slot machines. 


It was definitely eventful days leading up to her last moments. Uncle Billy was telling me how his wife (whom we addressed as Aunty Jenny) would often chat with mother-in-law on the phone, sometimes for even hours. According to Uncle Billy, mother-in-law was Aunt Jenny's closest relative in Kuala Lumpur, and through their last conversation, Aunt Jenny told Uncle Billy that mother-in-law sounded really happy, as if she was without care or worries. I had also found out that mother-in-law had also contacted almost all her old and some even long lost friends to catch up with them. 


I'm pretty sure that there's one or two lovely stories that my darned brain is failing to recall at this present moment, but the point remains the same. All these anecdotes, as I had told Kat, are evidence that mother-in-law was at peace when she passed on. She enjoyed her last moments of pleasure with her jaunt to Genting, saw her daughter get married, made her peace with her relatives, and spoke to her dearest friends for one last time. I could almost imagine her smiling to herself as she ticked off the last task on her list, and decided that it was indeed time to go. It was time for her to leave her disease riddled body, and to release her family their duty of having to care for her. And as she looked down upon everyone who turned up at her funeral, she must be pleased to see the people who came to pay their last respects. Kat had painted a lovely picture when we had a discussion about mother-in-law's life after death, about how mother-in-law's spirit would leave the shell that she had been burdened with, and transform into the beautiful lady that she was before she fell sick.


Letting go of someone we love is and will always be difficult. I was deeply saddened when I first received news of her passing. But when I heard all these wonderful anecdotes from her last days, it gave me reasons to smile. Her last days were that of joy, and we should celebrate that. Yes, grieving is part and parcel of expressing the loss, but let us rejoice in the fact that she had found bliss, and leaving her body was just the final act. 


To my darling wife: Cry no more, my love, dry your eyes, for it would be what she would want for you. Moving on is not about forgetting her, because we shall continue to celebrate the life that she had. 


For those of you who are grieving, I hope that this entry has brought you some joy, and I pray that you will find your own anecdotes of joy before your loved one moved on.

Honeymoon to Thailand: Chiang Mai Day 1

It's been a flurry of activities back at work after the short trip to Thailand, and I thought I better get off my lazy butt and start writing before I start forgetting the details.

This is the first non-diving trip that Kat and I had done together, and it's actually an overdue honeymoon for us. Her sister had very generously given us a 2 night stay at the luxurious Mandarin Oriental Dhara Dhevi in Chiang Mai for our wedding last year (this was the civil ceremony) and we'd been too busy to take the holiday. We decided that August would be a good time for a short break because of the National Day holiday. We also decided to do a one night stay in Bangkok so that we could visit our diving friends whom we've only "met" on the internet. Even then, it wasn't smooth sailing because we were scrambling looking for a dog hotel for Sophie (our miniature schnauzer) since the last place had to close. After many failed options, Kat's sister agreed to care for Sophie for the couple of days.

Approaching Chiang Mai

Being so close to the National Day holidays, the airport was naturally crowded with people who were looking to exploit the holiday period, but what was surprising was that there were so many people at 6am. The flight was largely uneventful, and after a nearly two hour flight, we landed at Bangkok's international Suvarnabhumi Airport, and next, it was the long walk to the domestic terminal. I played the role of a tour guide of sorts to Kat, since she'd never been to Bangkok, telling her the troubled beginnings of the airport as we walked along. We were also looking for free Wifi spots in the airport, and then found out that it was only for 15 minutes and we had to go pick up the log-in information from the airport information counters. Through our encounters with the airport workers while we walked to the domestic terminal, it'd occurred to me that the people are a lot less friendly then the wonderful warm hospitality that I had fallen in love with then I first visited Thailand in 1999. No doubt, this is something that is happening around the world, but it's just so sad because Thailand is a place that I'm really fond of.

After a long walk, we finally arrived at our boarding gate! I was really impressed that the plane was already starting to taxi at the time of departure. One interesting story as we were boarding: there was a lady who was holding up the line of passengers trying to get to their seats because she was trying to put her precious handbag in the overhead compartment in such a way that it won't be scratched, making sure that none of the other luggages would be in contact with her handbag, eventually putting the handbag on the handbag protector cover. This took a good 5 minutes, and why she didn't just put the bag in the cover or under the seat in front of her, I just cannot phantom why. 

Flying over Bangkok to Chiang Mai, the scenery change is really dramatic: from the densely built-up areas of Bangkok, to the vast green expanses as we approached Chiang Mai, lots of rice fields neatly dotting the landscape. I did however noticed that there were some parts which looked like there was too much water covering the fields, which made me wonder if it was the flooding that was inundating the northern and north-eastern parts of Thailand. 

Kat in the limousine outside the Chiang Mai airport

I'm a real worry wart when I'm traveling. Call it paranoia, but I'm worried when I'm moving around in a new city, particularly about safety. So as we were approaching Chiang Mai, Kat could see that I was starting to vex about finding our way to the hotel, and told me not to worry and that it'd all work out. Ha! I should've known better and seen through her surprise but I was so preoccupied with worrying. After picking up our luggages and walking out of the restricted area, I was looking around for the taxi booth and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a lady hotel holding a sign with our names on it. Kat had made arrangements with the hotel for our transfer! But that wasn't the end of it: when we walked out of the arrival hall, there was a classic Mercedes limousine waiting for us!! WOW! There was an old world luxe feel to it! Kat could obviously see my expression and I bet she was loving every minute of it. Such is my wife's love :)

It was a 15 minute ride from the airport to the hotel, and the staff was giving us updates on the weather, the length of the journey, etc. I'd seen pictures of the hotel via their website, so I knew what to expect of the hotel's physical features. When we arrived, we were greeted with a garland of jasmine flowers.. nice! I was quite "blah" about the hotel's reception, but upon retrospect, I guess there's no need for a large reception because the profile of the clientele meant there was no need for a large counter to deal with lots of guests. In fact, our check-in wasn't done at the counter, but at one of the cosy sofas. That was when the bouquet of roses was brought out for Kat. Ha! Very nice gesture for the honeymooners. 

After the check-in, we were driven over to our Colonial Suite in the buggy (you can call for a buggy to transport you around the 60 acre compound, or just borrow a bicycle to get around. Ooh! There's even a horse drawn carriage that goes around the compound!), and when the staff opened the door for us, my jaw dropped again. The suite is beautiful! As the name suggests, it's got all the decor of the colonial era. There was also a chilled bottle of white wine sitting in a bucket of ice, and a heart shaped box of macaron.. all for the honeymooners! The decor was in the colonial splendour, but it was decorated with beautiful Thai traditional sculptures and lithographs of the Siam of old. It's just impossible to describe the beauty of the place, so I'd let the pictures do the talking. Oh, and incidentally, the suite is bigger than our pathetic apartment back in Singapore, which is 80 square metres versus 68 square metres! The bathroom was probably the size of our bedroom. 

Entering the suite

It was a hard time pulling ourselves away from our gorgeous room, but we had to check out the sprawling compounds. There was just so much to see on the compounds, which includes private villas, buildings of traditional architecture (the designs are simply beautifully ornate!) and even rice fields! We had thought that there was some history behind some of the buildings but was surprised to find out that construction started in 2001 and was completed in 2005. Walking around the grounds, we were surprised to find that it's actually something that was recently built. You can find replicas of the Old City with its moats and ruins of fortified walls, and overgrown "secret" gardens.

We visited the shopping village (a cluster of shops located just outside the hotel's compounds) and after some thought, decided to get some tailoring done. It's definitely not as cheap as what it might cost in Bangkok (the tailor warned us that the fabric used may not be genuine cashmere or Egyptian cotton as claimed) but definitely cheaper than what you would have to pay in Singapore. I got a suit, 2 shirts and a pair of trousers made, and even Kat who was just tagging along got 3 shirts made (she had wanted just two but was so pleased with it, she made another one). The whole lot of clothes were made over 24 hours, which is a little scary considering that it's a rushed job, and while it was nicely done, if I was to be picky, I'd say that I was a tad disappointed that the finishing could've been better (loose threads) and they might've taken a bit of time to iron it. But like I said, I'm being picky. 

One of the several sculptures in the room

We hopped onto the hotel's complimentary shuttle to the night market, and the first stop was the food court because Kat wanted Thai food. Hey, where else can you get authentic Thai food? Well, maybe not a food court that's charging farang prices (which is almost twice of what you might find elsewhere), but I gotta say that the food wasn't too bad at all. Kat left me to decide what to buy, so I bought the usual pad thai and tom yum koong, as well as a oyster fried in batter with bean sprouts and spring onions. It's a crispier (and according to Kat, it's nicer too) version of the local orh lua, which is softer (a whole lot more flour, I guess) with eggs and no bean sprouts.. more of an omelette. 

The shuttle would leave the night market 2 hours after our arrival, and I thought it might not be enough time for us to walk around, but we actually managed to finish walking the place pretty quickly. I guess it's because after while, you realise that every other shop was selling the same stuff, and Kat wasn't keen on buying anything. We did however buy some singlets with the beer labels printed on them, my staple diving attire.  

Arriving back at the hotel, we found a card from housekeeping under the door, to let us know that we missed the turndown service, and to call them if we wanted them to do it. "Too much trouble", we thought, and turned in for the night. 

Stay tuned for the next post!

One of the two swimming pools. We didn't have time to swim!

The night view of the lobby building

Night view of the Colonial Suites

 

Paddles Up!

I've been involved in team sports such as soccer and rugby ever since I was a kid. After deciding to quit competitive rugby when the injuries (and medical bills) starting mounting, I meandered from sport to sport, but all of them had been individual sports where I could practice at my own time without the need for the participation of others. Sports also helped me keep the weight off, though not necessarily successful. And there's just one problem with doing a sport that doesn't require a team: you lose motivation easily.

I gotta admit that dragonboating wasn't initially my cup of tea. I'd always enjoyed rugby because it's a (frightful) combination of skills, different types of fitness, having to think constantly and quickly on my feet, and the rough and tumble. The first time I got involved in dragonboat was years ago when my then-colleague. Celine, asked me to be part of the staff dragonboat team which was then newly founded to participate in the Inter Statutory Board Games. I was still playing rugby then, and it meant taking the season off to train for dragonboat as there were a few other races which we had been signed up for. I remembered during the first training, while it was at time physically challenging especially considering that it was a whole new different sport, I thought to myself "I could get used to it!". It was refreshing because I just had to focus on rowing (I was one of the pacers, so everyone had to follow my pace!), without having to think too much on my feet (or in this case, my bum), and biggest factor of all, I could row with a peace of mind, knowing that no one is gonna come along and tackle me off the boat.


But apart from the technical aspects, what I really enjoyed about rowing was the feeling of being one as a team when everyone is in sync (which back in those days, when everyone was new to the sport, was pretty much a rarity), and the boat moving along smoothly on the water. Hearing the collective splash of the paddles, all in sync.. it was something that captivated me. The team had some good runs, including qualifying for the finals of the Public Service Games, which was held at the Singapore River. I remembered getting ready at the start line and the Police boat pulled up alongside and taking a second look at them: it was a boat full of Gurkhas! That was the last time I saw their faces, because all we saw of them subsequently was their backs! It was like their boat was motorised! Nonetheless, it was an achievement for a bunch of misfits who hardly trained and were mostly out of sync towards the end of races. I moved on to another job not long after, and that was the end of my dragonboating.


A couple of months ago, staff dragonboating once again came into my life when it was included in an event that was part of the Public Utility Board's (PUB) Singapore International Water Festival. It was supposed to be an inter-cluster event (several departments and academic faculties form a cluster), and right from the word "go!", it was competitive! Everyone was training hard although I'd missed out on several training sessions because I was in Manado diving. The cluster that I belonged too won, and by then, and I was hooked on dragonboating again.


Kat and I have a friend who's a member of a dragonboat team (Team Naga), and so I spoke to her about joining the team. Kheng is a dear friend of ours whom we got to know through scubadiving, and is a sweet and cool person.. until I started talking about dragonboating with her. She is also the team manager, so she was made very clear her expectations, and I was really surprised at this side of her. Upon hindsight, I could see that she is very passionate about the team and wanted members who are able to commit to the team, hence her demands.


We arrived at our first training an hour earlier because we were petrified of being late, and it was a good opportunity for us to check out the place and people. The varsity and school teams had been training in the morning, and so there were lots of fit young bodies around. We were starting to have the jitters!


When Kheng came, she rounded up a couple of other guys who were new to the team, and gave everyone a quick orientation, and then, we were off in the boat. The regular guys were in their cool race boat preparing for their coming race, while a couple others and the newcomers were in another boat. After some light paddling, we beached and Alvin along with a couple of the other seniors started working on our strokes as a we stood in waist deep water. We hopped back into the boat and started rowing again, and Sean the coach got onboard from the other boat and started working further on our strokes. I was really appreciative of him coming around to every rower to correct our techniques, rather than just standing from a distance and yelling out instructions. To top off the day's training, the team celebrated the birthday of one of the rowers by having him row both boats (held together by rowers in both boats).



I'm really glad that Kat jumped at the opportunity to join the team because it was another avenue of getting fit, and getting involved in a team sport. And more importantly, it was another activity in which we could do together. We had lots of fun and really appreciated the hospitality shown by the team. We're definitely looking forward to our next training! 


On a side note, I would like to pay tribute my ex-student in NTU who was the staff team's de-facto coach. Although dragonboat was managed by my colleague, Celine, I got to know Stephen through his capacity as the NTU dragonboat team captain. We later found out that his younger brother was my team mate in the club where I played rugby. When the staff team was formed, we badgered Stephen into coaching us, and he kindly obliged, although we could see that he felt a little intimidated coaching the staff, but he was always encouraging while pushing us hard. At a personal level, Stephen was the nicest boy I've met, extremely polite and humble. I'd stop and chat with him whenever we ran into each other, and I was glad when he came back to NTU to pursue his postgraduate diploma in physical education. He had all the qualities of a good teacher, and I know that he would make a difference in the students' lives. I lost contact with Stephen when I left NTU. Then on November 2007, I heard news of the tragic drowning of the 5 members of the national dragonboat team when their boat capsized at Tonle Sap River in Cambodia, and I was shocked when his name was announced as one of the fatalities. I remembered clearly the next morning, flipping through the pages of the Sunday Times, seeing his face in the papers. I broke down, remembering the wonderful person that he was, and how the families of all the young men must be feeling. 

Steph, if you were still around, I know you'd be glad and would be ever so encouraging if I'd told you that I'm starting dragonboating again. You will always be remembered!

Moleskine® - Legendary Notebooks

Image from www.fanpop.com

I'm a big tech gadget freak, and I'm always in the local Apple shop checking out the latest desirable Apple product. Yes, I'm an unabashed Apple fan boy, but the strange thing is, I haven't gone out bought myself the iPad2, not even the iPad. I'm typing away on the MacBook Pro, and I didn't hesitate spending on this lovely piece of equipment, because this is what I do my work with, and also for its style. But with the iPad, it's just an oversized iPhone to me. If I have to carry around the iPad, the only reason would be because it's friendlier on my aging eyes (stay away, presbyopia horribilis!). And perhaps for the purpose of sending mails. But apart from that, I won't carry it into meetings and start taking notes with it although there is a Moleskine app for iPad.

Earlier this evening, I was in Borders checking out Moleskine^® notebooks, and my wife was curious why I would looking at something that's old school (Yes yes, hold back the "old man" jokes, won't you?). I do bring my laptop into meetings and discussions to take notes, but only because the information would need to be archived or sent out to other parties, and there really isn't any sense in scribbling in a notebook, then transferring them into the laptop. And there's worry about this notebook crashing. I can shake it all I want, and drop it.

There is just something about the good old pen/pencil on paper. I have a nice trusty (very dog eared) spiral notebook which I had been using for years, in which I've scribbled ideas for work in progress, reminders, and pictures. I like scrawling some form of a mindmap, arrows all over the page linking one point to another, using different colours for effect.. it's just not something that a software could quite do as efficiently as pen and paper. And there's just something about the feel of paper. Plus you can flip through the pages of a notebook to look for something that you had penned some years ago, without having to worry whether you'd synced it from your other electronic devices.

What's the big deal with a Moleskine^® notebook? I wish I can tell you that I love the fact that it's made from acid-free, it's handmade, that their suppliers are ISO1400... but I have to admit that I'm shallow. For that kind of price (S$37 for a 5x8 inch notebook), I can easily buy a couple of these from an art shop. The elastic band that hold the covers together reminds me of the army issued ones that I used when I was serving my National Service. 

Why do I find it desirable? There's just something in the way it feels:  the cover and the paper.. then there're the sightings of Moleskine^® notebooks in movies such as National Treasure and Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain. Nothing quite sells like a well-placed product in a movie. Although I must say that I'm also impressed (yes, I'm easily impressed anyway) that each notebook comes with its own identification number for the purpose of reporting any defects.

Would I succumb to the lure of consumerism and buy a Moleskine^®? Perhaps.. but the cheapo that I am, I would probably scour for cheaper options first.

Randomness From My Memories of Australia

As mentioned in my first post, this blog is a platform for me to share about my memories and also to remind me of what my life had been when I lose my memories. And some of the best memories were the ones of my years in Australia, where I was privileged to have studied and done some work.

I have to say that I'm tremendously thankful to my dad for gathering the resources to send me to Australia to obtain my degree in Physical Education after very indifferent results in the GCE "A" levels. Australia was a perfect choice: it was close enough compared to the US and UK, the exchange rate was pretty reasonable then, and for my personal reasons, the onslaught of the Aussie culture in the late 80s and early 90s.

In a nutshell, my years in Australia gave me the best education in life that I could ever have. There were many unforgettable memories: made some tremendously wonderful friends, bad experiences with people, wavered with my educational pursuits, seen the underside of Australian society.. My life has been very much shaped by the experiences in Australia, although most of the life lessons didn't quite sink in until the last 5 years or so. I often reminisced about the times that I'd had when I was in Australia, in particular when times have tough for me. But that's the funny thing, because I often miss my family in Singapore during the quiet moments in Australia, wondering what my parents were doing. It was also at that point in time when I started reconciling (internally) with my dad, and appreciating my parents. I guess it's called "growing up".

Despite being an outsider, the years in the Lucky Country is easily the best years of mine simply because of the experiences that I'd had. In the coming posts, I'll be posting recollections of my life in Australia. Do come back and walk me with down my memory lane.

In the meantime, have a listen to this song called "I Still Call Australia Home", written and originally performed by Australia songwriter/entertainer, Peter Allen. Qantas has been using it for their ad campaigns, and it always gives me goosebumps.

My New Project: Candids of My Friends

There are two things that my wife and I enjoy doing when we get a chance to visit the mall: visit a supermarket and browsing through the bookstore. A particular section that I always visit are the books on photography.

I am a walking oxymoron. No, I'm no moron although there might be many who agree that I am. I love beautiful stuff yet I have no sense of creativity whatsoever. Photography is just one of the many areas that I love but I'm hopelessly inept in creating something that is beautiful. I know that I will never be able to create works of art, stuff that people will go "OOH! Look at that photograph! How did he do it?".

Photographing humans is something that I avoid as much as I could although I do enjoy taking candid pictures of human emotions, hoping to let the emotions tell the story. I simply cannot do a portrait at all, where you would have to compose the picture, and that is something that I do not know how to do. While browsing through Annie Leibovitz's book of portraits, I was so inspired by the awesome photos by the former chief photographer of Rolling Stones magazine.

I have been blessed to have met many people in my life, some who have impacted upon me more than others, and in good ways and bad. In the same way that I want to document the events of my life, I want to photograph candids of my dear friends. My dream is that through photographs, I am able to capture spontaneous moments of them, moments that define them. Here's the first one, of our dear friend, Antia. This picture was taken when we sent her off at the airport after her month long stay in Singapore. While it isn't a candid, I like this picture because it typifies her: fun loving and spontaneous, and happy. She's a dear friend of ours who's been with us through some significant moments of our lives. And look carefully in this picture and you might be able to spot a "mystery face" somewhere!

If you're interested in following this series, I'll be posting them in a Blogger friendly format on this blog. Look out for it!