CynfulWords

Why Hello, Awesome

2012-01-01T15:06:00.008+08:00

I'm supposed to be cleaning out my kitchen cabinets. Which is why I've decided that it is crucial that I write this post right this very second. It's a post so urgent that I have to drop everything to complete, especially if 'everything' means 'to clean out my kitchen cabinets'.

So 2012 dawns sunny, wonderful and smelling of awesome. In fact, smelling awesomer than last year. And the year before. And the year before that. You get the idea.

No resolutions this year. Just get on with it. Live life, joy through every pore. Love everyone, including the a@#h!@#s; but at a distance. And it's perfectly ok to steer clear of them because life's too short and you shouldn't be wasting time on them. Wish them well and move one. They have a right to enjoy life as well.

Through circumstances completely outside of my own planning and doing, I ended up going out of the country this Christmas, which felt very weird because Christmas was always parties and friends at home. And so with some trepidation, I flew the pad and ended 2011 with a bang. Why do I always get so drastic? Tattoos and dreads? But oh so fun! They are pretty heavy, and they tug on the scalp somethin' fierce. But I love the rasta effect. Definitely my kind of look. Gonna have them permanently when I retire to my beach front home. :-P

In the meantime, I think I'm gonna go practice writing 2012 instead of 2011. The kitchen cabinets can wait.

Oh, by the way, I brought dreadlock extensions back. I think my hairdresser is the only joint in town that has them right now. Just in case anyone wants to try them out.

White Tropical Christmas and other thoughts

2011-12-25T14:42:00.004+08:00

If there could be an equivalent to a white Christmas in the tropics, today would be it. It hasn't stopped pouring since last night. It's as if there's a leaky pipe in heaven and the angels are in the middle of fixing it. Meanwhile, divine water trickles, pours, trickles down to earth, leaving me somewhat anxious for my flight to my secret getaway in a few hours. It's complete misery out there.

Ideally, Christmas would be filled with people I love and like descending on me all at once. And if I had that every day, it would be Christmas all year long. This year, the people I love and like have been descending on me. Just not all at once. And for the first time EVER, I'm going away for Christmas. As usual, a part of me screams "GO! FLY! DON'T COME BACK! GO OUT AND LIVE AS MANY DIFFERENT LIVES AS YOU CAN!" By and large it's a part that has been dormant for years. It rarely rears up; only when I'm feeling pernickety beyond belief (PBB) and I only feel PBB once in a while, especially when it's that time of year combined with when I have so many things and projects I want to do but haven't done any of them because life happens.

But thankfully, I'm also surrounded by old and new friends who are more than decent human beings. That means I shall not fly just yet.

I wasn't going to blog. I almost gave up on blogging. But, one indulges oneself in one's diversions and little distractions. So, against better judgement, I am drawn to a Christmas day blog entry.

Ah, the rain has stopped, and the anxiety is assuaged a little. The pipe must have been fixed.

A blessed Christmas. Don't wait all year to show goodwill toward men (and women).

Photo: The celebration at church last night, which I enjoyed immensely.

My Grid-it

2011-12-24T11:04:00.003+08:00

This is my Grid-It organizer system, entirely perfect for the messy organized scatterbrain *points at self* who:
1. Gets lost even with those girly organizer bag-inside-a-bag systems.
2. Prefers something that doesn't scream "YOU'RE SUCH A GIRL"
3. Prefers to have all her things stuck to a medium like Velcro so she can rip them off and put them back easy-peasy.
4. Has a weakness for functional things which are really cool-looking at the same time.
5. Likes to be a little different. Just a little.

This thing fits everything from my hand cream to my back-up portable charger. There's also my eye drops, Thai hot oil for reviving fainting yoga buddies, fountain pens, refills and adaptor wires. How much can a girl (or guy) ask for? The system comes in various sizes, from pen and key-holder size to mine, which is the ideal size I reckon; to really big, almost A4 sized.

Lessons for marketers and businesspeople...

2011-08-31T22:24:00.008+08:00

...I went to a Digi shop at a shopping centre in town, the one near a major bus interchange. I wanted to change my package. I was there four days ago, paying my bill; and a the man behind the counter told me I could do it. Tonight, it was a woman behind the counter. She didn't say hi, she didn't ask how she could help, but gave me a what-the-hell-do-you-want-look. I told her what I wanted.

She said, "Gimme your IC", without asking for it. Then she said "Gimme your phone".

I asked if she just needed my number. She gave me a black look, stretched out your hand and snapped "I STILL NEED YOUR PHONE".

Then she said, "You can just do the swap yourself or go to the main Digi Centre."

"Your man told me this could be done here", I was this close to telling her to go soak her underwear in ice and chill.

She shrugged.

My decision: I'm switching to Maxis. I went to them last week and they gave me service with a big smile, even when I didn't sign anything with them.

Lesson No. 1:
Treat every single person that walks through your door with courtesy; because if you're anything like Miss Digi Sourpuss, honey, I don't know how many old customers crossed over to your competitor, nor how many new ones you lost.

I wanted to buy one of them steam iron thingamajigs because they're so much easier to use than conventional irons. The little stall didn't take plastic, I didn't have enough cash. I asked them how long they'd be there. The girl insisted that this was their last day and this was a special price. I was filling in the warranty card already when a closer questioning of her colleague revealed that they were going to be their for another two days.

What I did: walked away and said I would probably come back tomorrow. But on second thoughts, she lied and I think I'm going to save my moolah.

Lesson No. 2:

Never lie to a potential customer. Never lie. Period.

Lesson No. 3:

Nice or nasty, people can and will blog about your behaviour.

Pondering

2011-07-29T20:46:00.002+08:00

I sat here in Oxford and pondered the wonders of travel. Then I sat there in Dubai and chatted to the waiter from the Philippines; and we pondered the necessity of money. Once again I sat by a road side in Kerteh, enjoying a coffee and pondered the perfection of an original nasi dagang recipe. Before I know it, I was pondering my roots in Sandakan town. And then I pondered the traffic from Sipitang to Kota Kinabalu. Finally, I ponder the miracle of unconditional love my dogs give me as I await my flight home.

More Adventures in Oxford

2011-07-19T04:54:00.005+08:00

I found Jamie Oliver. Well, one of his joints anyway.

The Ghanans are such a friendly group. There's people from Mexico, Madagascar, Liberia, Brazil. And Malaysians. Lots of Malaysians. I walked up to the poor Colombian delegate who couldn't speak English and said to her, "Hola! Mi no habla Espanyol", at which she instantly gave me a broad smile and launched into the fastest Espanyol I have ever heard in my life.

Went to a pub for a good old fashioned burger and a pint of Abbot ale. Tomorrow, or perhaps the day after, I will probably drown my tastebuds in apple cider, my favourite; and bangers and mash. Who comes to the UK and goes back without bangers and mash? That's like, sacrilege.

The King's Arms is a famous pub here. It was so full, so we ended up at The Grapes. The Kings Head or other parts of the King's body are somewhere about but I didn't bother to find out where. Turned out there was no King's Head, though there is a Goat's Head. What is it with the bodily parts?? I half expect to find an Italian joint called the Headless Horse (ala the Godfather).

I've signed up for the boat tour and Oxford city walk.

I want more time to browse the bookshops. The books are like 3 for 2lbs or is it 2 for 3 lbs. Either way, who cares? They're dirt cheap and they are new books!!

The first time I came to the UK, the Harry Potter craze had just started. I got my first 2 HP books in Cambridge. This time, the last of the HP movies has come out, so how could I possibly not go and watch it here? They're selling quills and stuffed Hedwig toys. How fortunate for my wallet that the shop was closed. My wallet also hopes I won't find a stationery shop.

Was at Sainsbury's. Reminded me of Mrs Slocombe and losing her husband at Sainsbury's. Don't know Mrs Slocombe? How could you not? Look up "Are You Being Served?", you heathen you.

My coach driver from Gatwick to Oxford yesterday was a character from Noddy's Adventures in Toyland. I shall call him Steve.....well actually, his name IS Steve. He's jolly, round, has a white beard and red cheeks. Sounds familiar.....wait a minute, Santa's moonlighting as a bus driver in summer????

Tipsy from the ale. More soon tomorrow.

Why am I thinking of fresh milk???

Oxford

2011-07-18T02:02:00.003+08:00

Frankly, I'd really rather be in bed right now. I'm jetlagged, I hit the streets of Oxford for a quick walk around the moment I got my room sorted out, and my sleep in the last two days had been patchy at best. Who can sleep eight hours solid on planes, trains and automobiles anyway?

So here I am in Oxford, pleasantly surprised at the autolock coded security installed into 600-year-old buildings. And even more surprised by the extent of non-English spoken on the streets. It's summer. There seems to be more tourists than students about. So I hear more Italian, German, Dutch and Eastern European (can't tell which). Five minutes down Harris Manchester College, where I am, it's like a Harry Potter theme park. I half looked for the Leaky Cauldron for a pint. Ancient buildings, lovely old things, inhabited by Gap and KFC. Not all of course. The old colleges very much retain their decorum. I have to say though, I'd expected Oxford to be less touristy and more Cambridge-y. I know. I'll get shot by both for saying that.

Nevertheless, I am determined to sit where Tolkien and C.S. Lewis did, having a pint and throwing ideas about Middle Earth, wizards and hobbits vs. Screwtape writing to the devil.

I get my own single room with ensuite at the college, but I never knew that ensuite could mean your personal bathroom outside your bedroom and only you have access to the key. Very quaint. Oh, by the way, there's a closet under the stairs to my room and I'm positive Harry Potter stayed there years ago. Ha!

More soon. Crash now.

Childhood and Pies in Tins

2011-06-30T07:14:00.003+08:00

My mother used to buy this for us as a special treat. I'd been five or thereabouts. It was the most wondrous, amazing, deliciously foreign taste to have tickled the taste buds of a little girl living in backwater Kuching. Back then, there was probably one supermarket (Ting & Ting), one restaurant (Ann Lee) and one shopping place (India Street). A few days ago, I took an old friend to Ting & Ting, which still stands today and continues to be a fixture in Kuching culture; and there it was: Fray Bentos' steak and kidney pie. They have steak and mushroom now, and steak and something else too; all at about three times the price it used to be.

Steak and kidney pie in a tin. Go figure. It's wonderful. I'm going back for one, just to jolt my taste buds into memories of yesteryear.

Back to Nature

2011-06-06T21:41:00.003+08:00

Ah, to be in the forest again. No cellphones, no tv, no Facebook. I used to do this every month, two to three weeks a month for years.

This time, it’s further, more remote, more exciting, more fun because I’m with an old friend. Only thing is, my knee and ankle are in bad shape. So I’m going to take it easy this round.

I’ve had plantar fasciitis for years. It creeps up. I don’t believe in surgery. I don’t do enough yoga and stretching. So I really should get off my ass and take better care of myself.

Anyway, so I will be in remote Sarawak with a friend and two guides. I’m right nervous. The heart and lungs are strong but the legs are wonky. Wish me luck. I will be back with stories and photos.

Over A Bowl of Henghua Pak Mee

2011-06-05T01:06:00.000+08:00

Henghua Pak Mee at Meng Kui. My favourite place for it. I’ve mentioned Meng Kui in so many places, from Going Places to Tiger Tales to dragging friends and family to the place.
But, it’s not about Henghua Pake Mee today, though it centres around it. This was where I started to chat to Liew Suet Fun, author and life adventurer.
She’d been at the office on a different project a day or two before. I’d been busy with my own thing and hadn’t really made time to get to know her. She bought lunch and Meng Kui was the perfect place. They have such good local specialties.
I enjoyed talking to this woman who has travelled much, thought deep (you’d have to be, to be a writer; and a published one, at that). And fun. She was fun.
The next time she came, we had conversations over pansuh manok, tapioca leaves and terung assam. I still don’t know her as well as I’d like to, but I think we’ll get there. And I think we’ll do that over a lot more food and fun. And most importantly, little to do with work.

Faces From the Kitchen

2011-06-04T05:56:00.000+08:00

It’s not every day that I get to meet the hands that cook the food on my plate when I’m out. These bunch of young men work at Porkie’s, a new-ish BBQ place at Jalan Song.

I was there to do a voluntary (and therefore truly independepent) review of their food. They saw the camera hanging off of my neck and broke into these wonderful smiles and poses. Things like this make me go “awwww”, so I’m not going to do my usual brutal review. It’s a new joint, they have some kinks and bumps to iron out. I like the sausages. And I love these smiles. They’re really proud of their work, and I have no doubt that they will do well if they keep up the good attitude.

Railway Cottage Reunions

2011-06-03T11:41:00.000+08:00

Between the four of us, we are a total of about 150 years old. And in the one and a half century of living, we’ve known each other a total of about 105 years. When I look at it that way, it’s a pretty impressive number of years to know someone.

We each have our own lives. Half of us in this photo have married, had kids, and moved away. The other half have either carved a good career in a law firm and gone into more off-the-beaten-path routes. But all things considered, we keep in touch pretty often. We pick up where we left off when we meet, which is at least every few months. We like to hang out at the Railway Cottage Café, which belongs to another old friend of ours; and we like to show him some support.

We were kids. A couple of us were neighbours. So we knew each other since we were in diapers. Some of us met in school. I do wonder, you know. If my folks hadn’t sent me to that primary school and I hadn’t gone on to the high school where we met, who would the other 3 faces in this photo be then? Would I even have that?
I wonder and then I’m thankful.

Tied Up at Thai Me Up

2011-06-02T11:35:00.003+08:00

This was the phad pad noodles I had at Thai Me Up at the Spring, which I thought was a great name. Surely the food would be at least good enough to match the name? I can be so naïve sometimes.

Thai Me Up does noodly stuff. You get to choose in 3 simple steps. First, decide on your noodle – kueh teow, spaghetti, bee hoon, what not. And if you choose the tom yum goong, you can pick rice. Then you decide on the meat – beef, chicken, seafood or vegerian, etc.. Finally, you get to pick the flavour – tom yum, phad pad, green curry and a few other Thai-sounding names. And off you go.

Only thing was, everything tasted sweet or sweetish. And the tom yum soup with rice was a lot of sour and lemon grass very little tom yum. If you like sugar in your fried noodles, by all means, this is the place to go. But I’m an all savoury and soury and salty type of person. So…. No. Not for me. Sorry, Thai Me Up. You lost me at hello.

Still, I'll give them lots of points for the clever name.

Hobbits at Carvery

2011-05-21T12:15:00.003+08:00

I belong to a family of hobbits. We’re not that tall; some of us have somewhat hairy feet; and most of all, we love our food. Food is our centrepiece. My favourite memories are of the family – grandparents, uncles, aunts and all, seated at the table at my grandfather’s old shop. When the old ones journeyed on, food was ever present through the grieving process.

Now, in the new normal, we continue to come together in the midst of food. Kopitiam breakfasts, chicken rice lunches, dinners. Not just the immediate family, but the uncles, aunts, cousins, nieces – those who haven’t moved away, at least.

So one of the last few foodie outings we had was at Carvery, a brazilian style buffet churrascaria place with loads of meat. Fourteen different styles in fact...or was there more? I stopped counting after the cuts started to look the same. The lamb is really good, as is the steaks. The chicken and seafood are so-so only. The salad bar is nice enough to make me content. At about RM60+ per buffet for dinner (Lunch is cheaper with less variety), it’s not an every-day type meal; but good for a meat fix.

Street Art in Kota Kinabalu

2011-04-28T21:59:00.005+08:00

On my way back from a meeting today, something caught my eye: a cluster of lonely pillars on a slab of barren land, remnants of a building that once was. Graffiti covered each pillar, many with haunting themes. At the back where a lonely wall still stood, an entire mural covered it, with themes of wildlife animals and the rainforest and an emphatic gaia-like maiden in an embracing posture.

I went back there after dinner. Took a nice long stroll. The only camera I had was the one in my BlackBerry. I just had to take a few shots. I'm coming back here with the dSLR the next time I am in Kota Kinabalu.

The site was that of the old Department of Welfare that burnt down. It was to have been an art museum. When that did not happen, students from an art school turned the remaining pillars into pieces of art as they stood - a street art museum unsanctioned but original and rebellious as art should be.

I took a slow stroll back to the hotel, thinking how perfect this place would be for street theatre and gritty art shows.

Where A Squirrel Got Its Name

2011-04-25T22:20:00.002+08:00

Moseyed over to Kota Kinabalu, one of my favourite cities in Malaysia and where the Kinabalu squirrel got its name (love the Kinabalu squirrel too by the way. It's usually fat and rumpy).

Packed the little Olympus and left it on my desk at home. D'oh! Been here a few times but have always enjoyed the place. Makes me feel like home. Only thing is, the bike is not with me and I'm bemoaning not being able to cycle. MoanMoanMoan.

Level Up Relaunch

2011-04-02T16:41:00.003+08:00

Opened my email last night and whaddaya know, got an invite from Kenny Sia to Level Up’s Relaunch, a celebration of their expansion after 17 months in the fitness business in Kuching. It was Kuching’s largest fitness centre. Now it’s even largerer than ever with brand new additions to their machines, group fitness rooms and classes.

I’d been to a few of ther RPM classes as a guest in the last couple of months, when laziness saw me abandoning my bikes and the road. And I enjoyed the classes a lot. So I moseyed along to support Kenny and a few good friends who are pretty active there.

They now have a dedicated RPM room with many many bikes lined up. Perfect for that rainy day when cycling on the road is out of the question. Nothing compares with riding on the road. But RPM is a pretty decent substitute when I’m feeling lazy and want someone to push me (enter the RPM instructors), or if it’s raining cats and dogs.

There’s a new bigger group fitness room where they do Body Combat, Body Pump and other classes.

There’s a dedicated Keiser fitness room, more machines, more space; and just basically more of Level Up.

There was a demo of Body Combat on stage. I like Body Combat, TKO, Taibo, that sort of classess, more than others. I didn’t get to see the demo. Emergency run. So I’m going back tomorrow (Sunday) to try it out.

I remember when it first opened, and I did a blog entry about it, with some questions in my head. Seventeen months into the business, the place is going strong.

A Review of Bicycle Lights

2011-03-14T10:53:00.008+08:00

I like lighting up like a Christmas tree when I'm on my bike. Kuching drivers are generally an ok lot, especially with the cycling revolution raving along these few years. I generally have two lights in front and three lights at the back- one attached to my bike, one in my back pocket, and one attached to the brain bucket. But the quest for the bestest affordable blinking lights is ever on. So here's a review of what I have that are easily available in Kuching. Of course, ordering the latest lights over the net is as easy as pie. But let's just say that you're like me and you want to touch the darn things, switch them on and see if they call out to ya; and you don't want to pay crippling postage if it's an international import. So here goes…

These Are Not Too Bad
Tadpole lights. I used a lot of these on the rear of my bike. They're cute, light and pretty ok as far as blinkiness goes, but they drink up battery juice the way elephant trunks suck up water. I got them from about RM35-50 (~USD10-18), depending on brand and make. After about a year or so, the silicone just snapped off.

At the front of both my bikes, I'm currently using the Cateye HL-EL 135 (No.6 in the piccy). I have three of these. I generally go out with both lights blazing in front. Correction. I actually have four of these. One has been returned to the supplier for fixing. One good thing about Cateye, they do have a lifetime warranty so check with your local bike shop on that. This is a pretty decent model. RM50 (~USD18) a piece. They're not the bestest out there but they are easy to get and they're decent enough. My first one lasted about 1.5 years of heavy use and except for a crazy on-off switch, it works fine (that's the one back with the supplier).

For the back of the bike, I'm currently using the Cateye TL-LD610. (No. 1 in the picky) It's a pretty decent light. I like the blinky options it has. And it's bright enough that riders using this look like blinking radar dots in the distance on a night or early morning ride) I have two of these. I keep one on inside the back pocket of my jersey.

Attached to my helmet is an el-cheapo China-made blinky which I got for RM4.90 (~USD1.60) at the local supersave store. It's big and ugly, which I like because that makes it all the more blinker on my head. I like to have lights on at least three points on a lateral line at the back because, really, drivers need more than one warning to tell them you're on a bike in front of them. The first line of vision is probably the light I have on my helmet and the one on my back pocket. This one has served me the longest. It stays permanently on the brain bucket, even when I go offroad.

I Don't Like These
I've experimented with a few different other systems. These are the ones that didn't work for me. A riding buddy of mine got me a nifty little torch with an attachment for the bike handle (no. 3). It's a great torch. Makes the road signs reflect to high heaven when I'm on the road; but the attachment sucks. It broke in three different places when I was adjusting it. My buddy did warn me about that and I proved him right. I'm still using the torch, just not on the bike.

Nos. 2 and 4 are two other el-cheapo made-in-China jobbies. Forget about those. The hand (no.2) is too big and cumbersome for the back pocket or helmet. The Power Beam gets you noticed by on-coming traffic but couldn't get you home on a straight road full of street lights even if your life depended on it. Plus, the Power Beam is so brittle you could almost bite off the plastic. My bike slipped off its perch (as bikes do from time to time), and that was the end of the Power Beam. Also, the attachment rings were way too small for my mtb handlebar. I had to improvise (no. 7). Bleh.

No. 5 was my first rear light. It's an Evo. Pretty decent quality but it wasn't bright enough for me.

My fellow rider in the US, Arleigh of Bike Shop Girl fame, recently previewed the Planet Bike Superflash Turbo rear light. It looks pretty cool. Check out the video here.

There are a hundred and one lights out there that my fellow riders are using in Kuching, I know. These are just the ones I have tried and tested. Got any lights to recommend? Leave your recommendations in the comments section. Meanwhile, keep on pedaling!

The Railway Cottage Cafe

2011-02-20T07:47:00.006+08:00

When it’s been over 20 years since you leave high school, you tend not to keep in touch with most of your mates way back then. That’s true for me at least. Gratefully, the few that I do keep in close contact with keep in touch with the rest of them and keep me updated on the comings and goings of these men and women I used to run around the playground with.

I was still pleasantly surprised when I heard that one of the boys from my class went around the world, got married and came back and is now the proprioter of the Railway Cottage Café at the Bormill area along Keretapi.

We had our reunion at Chiang’s joint this month. We had a buffet style layout, specially for the group, so Chiang does do catering for home parties if that’s your preference. My personal favourite was the black pepper chicken, although I must say the vermicelli is not too bad either. But that’s just the special menu Chiang put out for us. On any one day, Chiang reckons his best sellers are the mixed grill, heng hua pak mee and a few others.

What really caught my eye was Chiang’s collection of collectible figurines. Zowee! I’m not a serious collector myself but I love these things. His Bruce Lee series is completely swoon-worthy. He’s got Jackie Chan, Pirates of the Caribbean and more. Every Sunday afternoon, a gaggle of collectors congregate at Railway and talk shop. So if you wanna get into this as hobby, this is the place to start your obsession.

The Cafe's promotions, front window (it's halal, so no pork or alchohol) and part of the spread Chaing put out for us:

Lomography in Kuching?

2011-01-17T14:03:00.008+08:00

Hey, wouldn't you know it? I came across a little shop that sells Lomography cameras at One Jaya, right here in Kuching. Erm, in case you don't know where that is, it's that small shopping place with the weird arches and even smaller shops near Starbucks at Jalan Song. The last time I went there, it was three quarters empty and smelt of cement dust. It's now thriving and throbbing with tiny tiny shops that mostly sell clothes for undernourished waifs. But you do get a few interesting gems, like this lomo shop. There was also a flip flop shop which I like because the flops were affordable. But I suppose dig around more, and there'd be other gemlets to be found.

So the lomo cameras. Lomography is a global movement, a community of photo-lovers who are not afraid to experiment and explore their creativity on visual representation using analogue cameras. The movement really started with the creation of the Lomo Kompak Automat, a Russian-made analogue camera that produced these amazing explosions of vibrance with really cool vignetting effects. Read more about it here. Sample lomo photos are here.

The cameras at One Jaya start from RM148 and use film. None of those digital wahzoo that gives the illusion of film effects. Worth looking at. But for now, I'm keeping my moolah in my bra like grandma used to do. Got other uses for it. For now. *wink*

Oh, and gazillion apologies for the bleh photos here. It's the BlackBerry and wobbly hands. Not a good match.

If it looks like I haven't updated in a while...

2010-07-30T22:47:00.003+08:00

...try going here. It's my oher site.

Where To Eat Out…When You Run Out of Ideas

2010-07-20T19:34:00.011+08:00

My standard answer to the question “What do you want for dinner?” is always “I don’t know”. Mainly because it’s a filler in the few seconds before my brain really clicks into gear and decide what my tastebuds really desire. But for the times when you really don't know, and you're in Kuching, try Tien Tien Food Court at RH Plaza (underneath Foot Master, the massage place).

I stumbled on Tien Tien because the other more famous seafood place was not open yet. And really, it's one of those places one almost trips over because it's overshadowed by the other better known eateries around the RH area.

The dish of choice was bamboo clams, or sea needles, stirfried in curry powder. Bamboo clams are a seasonal catch. They’re called “Tek tan” in Hokkien, and burrow deep holes in the mudflats off the shore of Kuching. They are encased in a bamboo-like shell (hence the name), but the inside is a soft, phallic, squid-like texture. The local variety is small and really, look the exact shape and consistency of a monkey’s pee pee. The other name for it is Monkey’s Penis… (I just wanted to have the word “monkey penis” in this entry, just to see how many people actually google the words “monkey” and “penis” together).

Tien Tien is one of those inobtrusive corner food places that everyone walks past and no one really remembers. The RH area is chock full of pretty decent food places. Affordable too. Between a really nice Italian eatery (Bella Italia) and a great food court (Expert) and a Taiwanese joint (Taipei 101) plus a host of others, it’s pretty easy to bypass innocuous little Tien Tien.

The bamboo clams on that particular day were not local. They were huge, cumbersome. More like gorilla pee pees rather than monkey. They weren’t great. Too seafoody. But I attribute that to their size and the fact that they were probably frozen and imported from somewhere else.

The Cantonese fried kueh teow was pretty good though. And the belacan okra and bean mix was as good as it’ll ever get. Which is pretty fabulous. At RM37 (USD 10) for 3 pax, it was a quick fix for when you don’t know what to have for dinner.

Not too bad at all.

A Waterfall, A Snake & 3 Watering Holes

2010-07-19T21:26:00.005+08:00

So I went to Jangkar yesterday. It’s this incredibly beautiful waterfall an hour away from town. There aren’t many untarred roads left so close to the city. Rumbling along untarred and be-pebbled roads for long stretches bring me back to the days when my family would rent a van or minibus to go the unsullied sands of Siar Beach. On occasion, mum would even bring her TV along. I swear that’s true.

My days of constant jungle-trekking are pretty much over, or at least dormant. So I was only prepared for a mid-range 4-hour trek at most. But a relatively easy 55 minutes later on a mild up-slope, the waterfall sang its thunderous song of water and rock right in front of me.

The day was overcast. A light drizzle cooled the walk down nicely. And the water was refrigerator cold. As with most of my forays into the forest, it was a bunch of guy friends and me. Ah Huat and I ended up on one end of waterfall and sat there just taking it all in.

At first, I thought it was just sandflies, or any one of 1001 elements that make you scratch your skin when you’re in the great outdoors. And then Ah Huat gave a manly shriek (it was manly, but still a shriek nonetheless).

I looked down and there was the tail end of a rather stubby brown snake, the skin glistening in the water. It was between the fold of my knee and the rock I was reclining on. Quite calmly, I moved my leg to let it past. It decided not to. But made like it was going to do a u-turn. Ah Huat shrieked again (in the same manly manner). That got me quite panicky by then. I stood up to let the snake past. And started to slip down the rock I was on.

That was it. I could either smack back down on my backside and sit on the snake or I could jump back in the water and swim for my life.

I swam for my life, closely followed by a panicky Ah Huat.

I’ve checked since. No double-pronged mark on my body. Still alive and kicking. The snake is probably recounting the story of its close encounter with hippo-like humans to its friends right now.

We took a different route back which involved a lot of clambering over giant boulders in bare feet, rolling our backsides on some red ants (my sincere apologies to the ants – we had to do it or risk getting bitten and falling off the boulder).

I found it exhilarating, all that clambering. There were all in all 3 water holes that we dipped ourselves in. A pretty perfect day out, snake and all.

Flooded Trees

2010-06-20T16:52:00.002+08:00

A few months ago I reconnected with an old friend. I never knew this but he’s an avid hiker and offroad mountain bike rider and instantly we agreed we must do a hike soon. He’s been trying to get me out to Borneo Highlands for a walk around the woods. Before they get flooded by some damn dams that are being built in the area.

I finally went today. The trail was perfect. The weather was great. There was a whole group of people going because Wen and his friends were organising a little treat for the schoolkids in the area, all 95 of them from four villages. Wen had raised some funds to buy the kids school bags, books and pencils; and throw a little Gawai lunch for them.

We had to drive through the gaping dam, still under construction. It’s not the biggest dam I’ve seen but still, it made a pretty big impression, especially with the jagged tops of the Bungo Ranges framing the backdrop.

I hadn’t done any trekking in over six months, and was pretty apprehensive about how I’d fare. Was I going to be puffing and panting, a-chasing after my friends or was I going to cut it? An hour’s trail can’t be that bad.

It wasn’t. It was an easy hour’s stroll along a well-trodden jungle path, with two magnificent hanging bridges to pass. They were made of bamboo, were at least 35 feet above the river and 50 or 60 feet across. There were actually more bridges than the two but trust me, you’ll only remember the two. I didn’t really want to look down. Neither did I want to acknowledge my fear of heights, nor remember the fact that I tend to fall off bridges at the drop of a pin.

So there I was, my knuckles a luminous white on well-tanned hands, assuaging the fears of a few trekkers ahead of me (more for my rather than their assurance). Now, the Bidayuh are fantastic bridge builders. They can have a 50 to 70 foot long suspension bridge made entirely of bamboo, a sight to behold but bridges don’t come any skimpier or any more swayey. Still, I shot through it like a pig through a cannon. Just because I wanted to get the hell off of it as soon as I could. What better motivation is there?

The village is absolutely gorgeous. A huddle of houses and open verandas tucked together like it just grew out of the forest. The houses are part traditional and part retro modern, with open verandas lined with split bamboo that led into wooden or half wood-half cement homes. Pepper is in season so the verandas were lined with rattan mats filled with peppercorns waiting to dry in the sun.

I spent the better half the morning hanging out with a couple drying their pepper. The conversation inevitably turned to the dams, which meant the entire village had to move anytime soon now because the area would be completely flooded. I listened to their thoughts about the situation but their polite sadness spoke louder than words. And I thought, I am standing in a drowned forest filled with flooded trees.

I don’t know when the flooding will happen, but I definitely want to go back as often as I can and say a few goodbyes to the trees before they really drown.

Life is A Highway

2010-06-13T10:43:00.004+08:00

Oh wow, looky, in another three hours or so 30 something years ago, I would be born. And....?

I don't know. What can I say? Life is to be lived, enjoyed, laughed over, cried with, passionately embrace, fiercely appreciated. And if that means I get my share of anxiety, fears and tears along with the joys, adventure, compassion, kindness and fun, I say bring it on.

For the record, I don't feel a day older over 24 (and if you haven't realised it by now, I am NOT 24 anymore). My life has been a big wonderful road trip. I look through it as though through the windscreen of a moving SUV. What's yours like?

Live healthy, live fit, and most of all, live in joy.

Cyn The Wordsmith.

Hideaway

2010-06-09T12:06:00.012+08:00

Everybody needs a hidey hole away from things. Not all the time. But we do. I have always wanted to run away from home. Just for the heck of it. Like Huckleberry Finn but without the pouting and sulking.

When I was a kid I used to pack my clothes in a little bag and keep it in my closet for when I sneak away at night. One night, I actually tried. I made it to the hallway, looked at the pitch black, turned back and went to sleep.

I found the perfect place for running away to.

Kahang, Johor. Small, quiet, one-and-a-half horse town. Perfect for when I want to disappear into a green ether. Nobody would think to find me here. I hide in an obscure house along an obscure alley, quaint in its shabbiness. I can walk into the nearby forest and zazen there for days on end. Or I could just hide in the house and vegetate until I grow roots. If I need to go further, I could go to the national park and swing from the trees for a few weeks.

If I crave some semblance of a good meal, I can hop on the bus to Mersing, where P1 Café awaits me with not bad pizza, burgers, pasta, beer and superb mango crumble by Urs the Swiss German owner. When I tire of this, I can make my way to Singapore across the causeway and immerse myself in material bliss before I bury myself under my Kahang rock again.

Really, what more does this girl need?

Breathe

2010-05-22T15:19:00.003+08:00

On this Saturday of Saturdays, I made free time for myself. Of course, ‘free’ means a bit of writing here and there, some reading, at least a slot of some quick exercise of one form or another (today it was 40 minutes of riding hills around the neighbourhood first thing in the morning).

When the going gets fast, you gotta slow down and smell the flowers. And if you can’t do that, … don’t be stupid. Make time. Joy and creativity depend on these moments.

Photo: Trees relax me. They are complex entities in a an outer layer of simplicity. Just as life should be.

A Lazy Sunday Ramble

2010-05-09T15:53:00.004+08:00

I used to have this habit of taking photos of the sky wherever I go. I just love the sky and I appreciate that it's not so smogged up here that I can't see a clear blue sky anymore. I love it most when I'm floating on my back in the pool staring at the vast blue on top of me, or counting clouds and looking at shapes.

I was about to get all geared up a couple of hours ago. Get some water on the back, some sun on the skin, and some sky for the soul. Then I head it. Thunder. Lightning too, probably. I have a phobia of thunder-lightning and pools. A few years ago, I was doing laps at Stampark under an overcast sky. Half way through a pull and a kick, a crack of lightning reflected ooff the bottom of the pool. It was like an electric socket blew off. It was a distance away but it sure did freak me out. Add to that that my mama always taught me never to swim when there's thunder, ever since I was a tiny tot. And there you have my phobia.

Still, it's a beautiful muggy day that started with a brilliant blue sky that's being chased away by some pretty awesome clouds.

I love that I actually have time to blog today.

Photo: Blue skies and coconut trees somewhere in Sematan - my idea of a getaway.

A Pre-Chinese New Year Story

2010-01-25T16:44:00.002+08:00

Chinese New Year (CNY) is just around the corner. In support of all tacky CNY decorations characteristic of Kuching folks, I decided to get a life-sized, inflatable Mr Prosperity bobo doll from the 688 shop, the local tackarama centre located by Premier 101.

I had to get it after I saw one sitting in the backseat of a car a few nights before. It sat there, content in its round bobo doll-ness while the car owners ran down to the local deli for a cut of meat.

It came in three sizes: piddly-size, not-worth-looking, and big-ass-big. Had to get the big-ass-big. What's the point of tack when you don't go all out? It's all or nothing. Only thing was, I never really understood how small my car is until I tried to squeeze Louie (yes, I named him) into the back of the car. I had asked the people at the shop to inflate him for me, to check that he hadn't got holes in him or whatever. There was a full episode of paying for him and manipulating him out of the shop amidst shop assistants and shoppers trying to keep straight faces (my friend was outright sniggering by then), then hauling him to the car with wallet and car keys in hand while trying to open the car door, and then fighting to squeeze him into the car whilst five pairs of amused eyes in the next car followed every huff, puff and giggle.

I drove like an old woman's grandmother back because every time I peered into the rear view mirror, all I could see was Louie's big red ass. He's a complete mathom, against my oath to not clutter up my life. But if nothing else, that episode of purchasing him and bringing him home has already given me the full value of his worth. Sometimes, seemingly useless things do enrich our lives for a season.

The Day I Lost My Time

2009-12-30T00:22:00.004+08:00

A couple of days ago, I twacked my alarm clock sometime between 6 and 7 in the morning. I know I twacked it because I heard it crash onto the floor somewhere. It's not found its way back to me since. I looked behind the headboard, pulled out the drawers under the bed, flipped the mattress up, down, sideways and between.

Nothing.

This morning I heard a feeble ringing. It lasted about three seconds. If my bed had a belly, that would be where the sound came from.

Do you think my clock went on strike? Or perhaps left for a holiday?

That Time of the Year

2009-12-28T13:10:00.002+08:00

It's that time of the year again.

Everywhere you surf, someone's telling you about new year resolutions, tips and warm, fuzzy advice about 2010. At the top of the list is invariable, the resolve to lose weight, get happy, get fit, save the world. Every year, the same resolutions get recycled with recycled enthusiasm, passion. Every year, by March or so, most of them get put in the recycling bin. By October, ....what resolutions?

Here's my fuzzy wuzzy advice: set one goal and go all out for it. Forget the resolutions. Try it. It's liberating.

2009-09-16T11:48:00.000+08:00

I'm just a teensy weensy eensy hungwee.

Best Lamb Stew in Kuching

2009-09-07T21:53:00.002+08:00

This was absolutely heavenly. I would tell you where it was, but the chef wanted to concentrate on her baking so she closed shop. She sells perfectly indescribably wonderful cakes and pastries though.

Buttered Prawns at Asian Recipe

2009-09-04T10:32:00.002+08:00

I'm hungry, so I'm putting up a photo of buttered prawns from Asian Recipe. It's a couple of doors down from the PosLaju at Premier 101.

2009-09-03T17:26:00.002+08:00

I'm loving the rain. Dark clouds, stormy energy. I feel safe, snug; at the same time, I want to go out in the rain and just walk. I'm intrigued at how the weather makes me feel.

A Different Perfection

2009-09-02T09:20:00.003+08:00

Perfection comes in all shapes and sizes. A perfect sky can be anything between angry grey to blue with puffy whites. I'm on top of an overcrowded express boat from Song to Sibu. I might as well be on top of the world.

Weekend Away

2009-04-16T23:46:00.003+08:00

I'm off to Miri and Limbang for the weekend! It's shocking, but I have never been to Limbang before. I wonder how it compares to Marudi, which I like, and miss. I think my trusty old Fujifilm S9500 is finally starting to show its age. I'm noticing weird things with the quality of the images, and it drinks up battery juice the way my rottweiler vacuums up water.

I think the trip will be good for me. I need to be away. The blessing of February, March and April has been the busyness these months have afforded me, and so the underlying one of sadness is somewhat dulled.

I'm praying all that effort into potential projects will finally kick off, and away I go.

Photo: Anonymous people by an anonymous beach. This is an old piccy from a few years back. One of my favourites.

Open Spaces

2009-04-10T11:46:00.002+08:00

I was going about my business the other day, more hectic than I normally would like to be, when I suddenly felt quite a pang for the open spaces of Australia. My mind was freest when I lived there, oh so many years ago. There is a mystical quality to the land of Oz. Magic seeps out from the ground there. It is woven into the fabric of the air. You feel it the moment you step out of the airport and smell the eucalyptus in the air. It is as if all the trees are singing a chorus of welcome at you. It's so...open. Open spaces are wonderful things. One feels free. There is clarity. Magic

It's not too much a wonder that I miss it then, do you see? The magic of Oz is in my mind now. I feel a quickening to live even more than I am doing now. To change something in my life. I think it's a good thing, and I hope I have the guts to go through with it.

Photo: Somewhere along the Great Ocean Road, outside of Melbourne.

MesMrazed

2009-04-07T10:13:00.003+08:00

The best thing I did for myself this year, so far, and for Baby Bro and girlfriend of Baby Bro (GFOBB) was to see Jason Mraz live. Never in a puppy dog's milk-flavoured-bone-chasing dream did I ever thought I would manage to see Jason and Toca live. I certainly wished it, hinted to God about it, emanated as much positive vibes bodily possible about it. And left it at that. So the joy of discovering that I could pay currency to see him was immeasurable. And what better birthday present to give Baby Brother than to share live excellent music by Mr Wordplay himself?

So, March 4th. Baby Brother's birthday. There we were, at the stadium. The heat was stifling, the crowd had just started to swarm. We got to our seats and would you believe it, one of the seats was broken beyond repair. *Looked at usher - point point, chair broken, blah blah...* And before you could say "I LOVE TOCA", we were upgraded. Was that a woohoo moment or was that a woohoo moment.

Jason and band were amazing. Better than in his recordings. What a gifted minstrel. What a time we had. Baby Brother was humming non-stop for the rest of our time there, even when we were shopping, testament to the fullness of his joy.

But wait, did I mention that Toca Rivera replied to a message I sent him six months ago, gave me his gmail address and asked for photos? No I didn't mention it, and yes he did. What a blast and a pink tickle that was.

So March started with an explosive blast for me. I'd have liked the rest of March to be forgettable, but there are too many valuable life lessons in there. I'm taking the value and ditching the stress. More on that later.

Rollercoaster

2009-03-29T23:09:00.003+08:00

March started out great and spiralled into a soul-sucking monster very quickly. The monster weakens and she feels herself winning. But her wounds are significant. She struggles to recover.

I beginning to wonder if I didn't make decisions in an insane frame of mine. Like the latest tat that is now fading, or putting my much coveted privacy on the line and watching that affect my work. I hate mediocrity.

And I cannot stand leechiness.

Rain and Shine

2009-02-07T21:28:00.002+08:00

I can't say for sure, but I feel like I haven't seen the sun for 10 weeks in a row. I saw my first blue sky in that period at 30,000 feet in the air, on my way to KL on Thursday, and the delight at that bright blue surprised me. I knew I missed it, but I had enjoyed the cool, misty rain as well. I just didn't realized how much I missed it, I suppose.

You don't know what you miss until you see it again.

Photo: Eurasian tree sparrows perched on my roof.

My Chinese New Year Fortune Cookie

2009-02-04T20:39:00.003+08:00

Someone gave me a home-made low-fat fortune cookie on the eve of Chinese New Year, a little less than a week ago. It was low-fat because it was made of felt, and therefore inedible. It was a very sweet gesture. And I was tickled pink and charmed by it. It even has a personalized fortune for me. How about that?

It's been raining for over 10 weeks nonstop now. On the whole, I have been embracing the rain with good humour and l-o-v-e. But the mould is growing a little too often for my liking; and the current fever, cough and asthma are not cheerful companions to have. Add to that the fact that I have to travel tomorrow in the midst of my flu-ness does not sound like fun at all. Oh well, I shall make the best of it. So far, the anxiety of flying is still in check. All systems are go. As much as they ever will be. Back on Friday. More then.

Chinese New Year - Cyn's Summary

2009-01-27T14:59:00.003+08:00

The Chinese new year, celebrated by Chinese people worldwide, is actually based on the cyclical rotation of the moon, and so is probably more accurately referred to as the lunar new year. Vietnamese and Korean people celebrate their new year on the same lunar calendar. It matters not where you are in the world. You do something on the eve of the Chinese New Year or the first day, one way or another. In Malaysia, it’s the biggest celebration for Chinese people.

Like the current Gregorian calendar we use today, the Chinese lunar calendar is based on a 12-month cycle. Because it is based on the cycle of the moon, the first day of the first month of each lunar year never falls on the same day. The beginning of the year can fall anywhere between the beginning of January to the third week of February. In 2009, the first day happens to be 26 January. A complete cycle takes 60 years.

Legend has it that Buddha summoned all animals to him for a farewell bash before he departed the earth. Just as expected, not everyone wanted to be at that party. Only 12 furry friends showed up. In order, they were: rat, ox, tiger, rabbit, dragon, snake, horse, goat, monkey, rooster, dog and pig. Would I be peeved if my friends didn’t show up for my farewell do? Hell yeah. Buddha was not pissed off but was zen in his wisdom. So what does he do? He rewards the animals who came to honour him by naming a year after each, in order of appearance. So 12 animals rule each year of this 12-year cycle. This year is the year of the Ox. My year. I was born in ’73. I’ve had three cycles so far. Chinese people believe that the characteristics of whichever ruling animal for the year will have a profound influence of the person born in that year. This is the animal that hides in your heart, whatever year you were born in.

It’s Chinese mythology. It’s tradition and history; and it’s fun. Even for Christians like myself. This is stuff from my people, who have had recorded history for more than 3,000 years and folklore for about 5,000 years. And roots do run deep. I believe that deep within, we always have some level of subconscous link to our land – Chinese people to their traditions; people from the Mediterranean to Greek mythology and Roman gods, others to their Norse legends and Celtic folklore, or African roots. It’s nothing to do with faith or religion. It’s just diversity in the midst of oneness – the oneness of humanity.

Anyway, I digress.

Chinese belief also extends to Yin and Yang, which in a nutshell, refers to the female- and male-ness of the world. The concept of Yin and Yang is another entry in itself. Suffice it to say in this entry that Yin and Yang are divided into five elements found on earth: metal, earth, fire, water and wood. These are actually names that the Chinese have for the five major planets in Chinese astrology: Venus, Jupiter, Mercury, Mars and Saturn.

Venus - Metal

Jupiter - Wood

Mercury - Water

Mars - Fire

Saturn - Earth

The movements of these five elements with the moon and year is said to influence a person’s destiny. Personally, I believe my destiny is determined ultimately by God. But that’s just me. But here we go into the more murky waters of Chinese astrology, the rules of which I do not understand nor adopt as my belief. But my point of bringing up Yin and Yang and the five elements is because, I wanted to point out that 2009 is the year of the Golden Ox.

What does that mean? I have no idea. It just has a nice ooh-aah factor to it. It’s the year of the Golden Ox. Oooh. Aaah.

There.

Going back to Chinese New Year. Here is what I believe in. The eve of Chinese New Year is called Ji Kau Meh (29^th Night) or Sa Chap Meh (30^th Night), depending on whether there’s 29 or 30 days on that particular 12^th month of the year. On this night, there is a huge reunion dinner for all Chinese families. It’s when everyone comes back home. It’s like Thanksgiving or Christmas. This is big. I cannot emphasize how big this is. You don’t call about work on this day, this night. Even our researchers in the jungles of Johor go home for dinner or else they’ll cop it.

Then right before midnight, everyone gets out their illegally procured big kahuna fireworks and firecrackers ready. I love this. No matter how often the authorities say this is illegal, you can always find a friendly neighbourhood black marketeer to supply you with all the fireworks you want. The police never catch anyone. The whole town lights up. This is the Gaza Strip with empty shells. Noise, colour and smoke. This is also when I sedate one of my dogs because she’s so scared of the noise. This is done to scare away all the bad spirits and bad luck of the old year, and to welcome the new one with a bang. And what a bang. In my neighbourhood, the smoke lingers long after the noise.

There are 15 days to the celebration of Chinese New Year. There’s a meaning to each day, although much of the significance is lost, except to the devoutly traditional, or to devout taoists. The first day is the welcoming of the gods of the heavens and earth; the second is when the Chinese pray to their ancestors (I don’t do this – Christan, remember?), and so on and so forth. On the home front, there’s visiting galore. I visit your house, you visit my house. There’s red packets with money inside, there’s lion dances and dragon dances, lots of specialty CNY cakes and goodies. It’s busy, busy, BUSY for many Chinese people.

On the 15^th day, Chap Goh Meh, there’s another big dinner to celebrate the entire event. Again, it’s a family thing, close friends welcomed if they don’t have their own family do’s.

And there, in a nutshell, is a very very summarized piece on Chinese New Year. Don’t make me go into the significance of different dishes on the menu and what we actually do. Next round.

This Chinese New Year, I’m free to write entries about Chinese New Year because I’m opting to get as much rest and be as relaxed as I possibly can while not entirely abandoning my parents to their CNY guests. When my grandparents were alive, it was an institution etched in stone to have them sit at a place of honour, normally in front of the portraits of my great-grandparents; and then my dad and his siblings and all the extended family come before grandad and granny and we bless them, and they bless us back. It was really, the one gesture during CNY that had special significance for me. It was where my entire extended family made it a point to gather in one spot, at grandad’s old shop in the old part of town, and just be family. Granny died in 2003, and Grandad followed in 2007. The shop is now rented out, and that part of my life is history now.

And so, I rest this year. I don’t do visiting. I don’t particularly embrace the consumerism and commercialism that surrounds the ocassion. I’d rather, on this the second day of Chinese New Year in 2009, write.

Unhide

2009-01-18T17:57:00.004+08:00

The pseudonym "Marita Paige" was derived from a badly pronounced form of "My Little Page". I literally plucked it out of nowhere about 5 years ago, as a joke, for my first Marita Paige blog. Before that, I was Sojourner, in another blog site. My but how time flies. There comes a time when you just want to come out, especially with a pseudonym. I believe I may have outgrown my original purpose for a pen name. For now anyway. I may publish one day. I may use the pseudonym back. One day.

The current blog name stays. Because it needs to be built up a little bit; and because I can't be bothered to come up with another one whilst I'm sitting here watching Matthew McConaughey's V-shape in a pair of board shorts. Besides, I like it the way it is.

I'm programming myself to wake up five minutes earlier every few days. So far, I'm waking up five minutes earlier one day, and 30 minutes later for the next two days. So have I half succeeded in my quest or 25 minutes unsuccessfull every 24 hours?

Photo: One of the neighbourhood giants.

12 Things to Keep the Mind Supple

2009-01-07T16:13:00.000+08:00

I put this on my Facebook once. I really like it, so I'm going to share it here.

1. Spend an hour each day without saying anything except in answer to direct questions, in the midst of the usual group, without creating the impression that you’re sulking or ill. Be as ordinary as possible. But do not volunteer remarks or try to draw out information.

2. Think for 30 minutes a day about one subject exclusively. Start with five minutes.

3. Write a letter without using the words I, me, mine, my.

4. Talk for 15 minutes a day without using I, me, my, mine.

5. Write a letter in a “successful” or placid tone. No misstatements, no lying. Look for aspects or activities that can be honestly reported that way.

6. Pause on the threshold of any crowded room and size it up.

7. Keep a new acquaintance talking about himself or herself without allowing him to become conscious of it. Turn back any courteous reciprocal questions in a way that your auditor doesn’t feel rebuffed.

8. Talk exclusively about yourself and your interests without complaining, boasting, or boring your companions.

9. Cut “I mean” or “As a matter of fact” or any other verbal mannerism out of your conversation.

10. Plan two hours of a day and stick to the plan.

11. Set yourself twelve tasks at random: e.g., go twenty miles from home using ordinary conveyance; go 12 hours without food; go eat a meal in the unlikelist place you can find; say nothing all day except in answer to questions; stay up all night and work.

12. From time to time, give yourself a day when you answer “yes” to any reasonable request.

- Dorothea Brande (1936)

An Episode of Verbal Diarrhoea

2008-12-30T13:10:00.000+08:00

I thought about the words when I drove around town. I thought about them during morning ablutions, at the gym, in the loo, when I cycled through quaint villages. I thought about them a lot, as you might have guessed by now; but I didn’t get to write any of it down because…well, because writing takes time, and effort, and if I’m not going to do a half-assed job with it (which I generally try not to), then I’m just going to have to wait until I make time for it.

Backing up about three weeks from today, my good buddy Wen came over from Singapore for a week of R & R. Wen and I go way back to university days in Oz. She and I don’t see each other as much as we’d like to, but when we do, we pick up like we’ve never been separated by the South China Sea. Cool lady, my friend Wen. Diver, adventurer, traveller and when she’s not doing all that, banker. We went to Sematan Palm Beach Resort, about 85 cliks from town. I have Wen to thank for shoving a much-needed R & R week on me. Before that, I was starting to feel the slog of work, possibly building up to a slow burnout. It’s just one of those things. No matter how much I like what I do, frustrations, vexations and eventual burnouts will happen. Plus, add in a pinch of the-grass-is-greener syndrome, you were looking at what ailed me.

So, there we were, Sematan Palm Beach Resort, a pretty cool place run by two other people I know, Nick and Tania. Both of them happened to be there when we arrived. That was cool. I had not seen them in a while. Sematan is where the magic beaches of my childhood are. My entire family, uncles, grandma and all, used to go there for extended family getaways. It was a mystical place for me, because all I remember was endless hours on a bumpy road, and there the golden sands lay. That was 30 years ago (gosh, did I say 30? Zowee). Now, beach resorts line the coastline.

Wen and I rented bikes and cycled around the area. There were quaint villages and paddy fields framed by mountains in the background and the sea in front. The rickety wooden bridges were fun to cycle through, though I was in constant danger of cyclin goff them because of vertigo. Wen was forever running after the chickens to take pictures of them. I’d be cycling in front and turn back to find my old friend gone. Then she’d emerge from the bushes with a silly grin on her face. We found other interesting items to snap – a gas tank hanging from a tree branch. God knows what that story is.

We were going to cycle to a waterfall but half way through we decided we weren’t geared for it. I’d love to splash through 12 inches of mud for half and hour and jump into a crystal clear pool beside roaring waters, but we didn’t bring towels and extra clothing, and we were sort of in the middle of nowhere. So we cycled all the way back to Sematan and had a beer instead. The fun bit was racing away from the storm clouds after that.

We didn’t win, but thoroughly enjoyed the drenching.

The sea was so rough, it was surfable. That abetted my paranoia of crocodiles and sharks (yes, they do go out to sea, especially when there’s a mangrove swamp nearby). No croc or shark in its right mind would swim out in that swell. So the humans went out like mad hatters instead and went after the waves.

During Wen’s visit, I went for a second session of laser tattoo removal. Dr W reckons it should be done after another one or two sessions. He upped the power from 6.2, and also decided to try something new in one part, to see if it faded faster. I was all for that until he went, “Nurse, get me the peroxide”, that my eyebrows involuntarily raised six inches. I do like Dr W, bless his cotton socks. I’m into Week 3 now, and it’s fading pretty well. Interestingly enough, the second session hurt much less than the first. That's the arm before the session. It's even more faded now.

And then there was the wedding of the year. Another old and good buddy finally tied the knot. Over 1,000 people were invited, and she insisted on me bing the EmCee. *Gulp* I think I had my fair share of pre-wedding nerves for this one. And oh, the agony of choosing an outfit. I went with simple in the end. Not my ideal choice of simple, but there it was. My cousin from Oz came back just for this, and successfully surprised the bride to tears. Score! Cuz and I went and dolled ourselves up for the night. Let it be said that this is the first time ever that I sat down in front of a make-up artist and had my face painted to the nines. I almost fell asleep at the chair, it was that soothing and I was that zonked out.

So, for the next week or so after that, it was shopping and eating with my cuz and friends, pretty much. Then it was Christmas eve. And I had a small party at my house. There was turkey, lamb, Christmas ham, all kinds of salad, wine, prune cake…zowee. My favourites were the gingerbreak cookies, shaped like Gingy himself, amongst other things. I had to have a second dinner do after Christmas Eve just to finish off the leftovers.

Oh, and did I mention the engagement dinner on Christmas day itself? Someone got engaged and I ended up at this place called Li Garden, having a really really nice Chinese dinner. One of the best I’ve had in a long time. Very original dishes. But all the eating was starting to get to me because I hadn’t been to gym on a regular basis, and gym withdrawal was starting to loom. Actually, it is still looming. I should get in a really good X-circuit workout this evening. Woo hoo!
And then it’s more holidays and eating tomorrow and the day after (boo hoo). Gosh, is it 2009 already?

I have not been to the office for well over two weeks now. What a wonderful break. I didn’t think much of the work interruptions on Christmas eve and Christmas itself, but they were not big interruptions. Such is my work.

Meanwhile, I think I need to cleanse my system. Plenty of apple and lime juice for me. I really might be 90% vegetarian by the end of next year. It’ll be good for me. And just because.

Keeping Things Simple

2008-12-14T15:41:00.000+08:00

Keeping busy is a wonderful thing, but it does mean opportunity costs for things that lie beyond the to-do list, like blogging, for example.

The holiday season is upon us. I try to unclutter if I can, when I can. For those of you who aspire towards the same, here're some tips I found to be profoundly useful. Enjoy.

1. Don't let perfectionism ruin your holidays.

2. Make a list of 5 projects/tasks you want to finish before the end of the year.

3. Heed your limits of time and money.

4. When you start to get irritable - take a break.

5. Say what you want, instead of hinting.

6. You get to choose how busy you want this season to be.

7. Take a drive to see the lights.

My Redeemer Lives - Team Hoyt

2008-11-24T15:57:00.000+08:00

I need inspiration like this from time to time. Otherwise, it becomes easy for me to take things for granted, and to rest on my laurels, and forget to dream some more....

A son says to his father: 'Dad, would you be willingly to run a marathon with me?'

The father, despite his age and a heart disease, says 'YES'.

And they run that marathon, together.

The son asks: 'Dad, can you run another marathon with me?' Again father says 'YES'.

They run another marathon, together.

One day the son asks his father: ?Dad would please do the Ironman with me?'

Now just in case you wouldn't know, 'The Iron Man' is the toughest triathlon in existence; 4km swimming, then 180 km by bike, and finally another 42 km running, in one stroke.

Again father says 'YES'

You Win Some, You Learn Some

2008-11-06T08:51:00.000+08:00

This looks like some disgusting spawn of tadpoles in a milky brew of diluted mud water from the Sarawak River after a heavy downpour. But it's actually just my favourite vanilla iced latter from Coffee Bean downtown. I like the milky taste to it. Some of my friends have boycotted white coffee because of the melamine scare. Rightly so, I reckon, especially when they've been junk-foodding themselves a fair bit. I've always remembered that melamine was plastic plates and bowls, cos that's what they're made of. Melamine. The industrial chemical. Ingesting industrial chemicals is not a good thing. But I must emphasize that it's all about dosages. Especially when it comes down to healthy adults who have the ability to detox naturally. So I do indulge in my possible melamine-infested latte once every 6 months or so. I reckon people in this town should be more worried about melted plastic straws in their deep fried banana fritters and fried chicken, rubber in their sago jelly bits (they bounce), and cholesterol and sugar; and cigarette smoke.

For a while now, I've been listening to what I call 'happy music'. It's basically music with upbeat and positive lyrics. I figure, there's enough crap in the world. I don't need someone crooning about lost love, depression, death, abuse, drugs and what not. Why go with the flow when I can do better than the flow? So Jason Mraz and Jack Johnson are in. Gavin DeGraw too. Yoga and world music are in too, and I don't care what some Christians say, this category of music does have a calming effect on this Christian, ok?

The reason I like Jason Mraz's music is because this guy really walks his talk. His blog says many things about him and his great outlook in life. There's a part in Jason Mraz's "I'm Yours", where he sings,
Before the cool done run out
I'll be giving it my bestest
And nothing's gonna to stop me but divine intervention
I reckon it's again my turn to win some or learn some

To win some and learn some. What a fantastic way of looking at things. You win some, you learn some. And it's ok to change your mind about things too.

I've been spending way too long checking my tongue in the mirror
And bending over backwards just to try to see it clearer
But my breath fogged up the glass
And so I drew a new face and laughed
I guess what I'm be saying is there ain't no better reason
To rid yourself of vanity and just go with the seasons
It's what we aim to do
Our name is our virtue

So I changed my mind. I got it lasered off. I still think it's a fantastic, fabulous piece of art. I regret nothing, neither putting it on nor taking it off. For a variety of reasons that all boil down to ME, I have decided to do without it. For now.

And so the test of patience began a week ago. My current motto is "Fade faster, fade faster, fade faster". It's become a chant really. Frankly, I'm a tad disappointed with my immune system. For the laser breaks the ink up into tiny particles which are then absorbed by the body's own immune system. An ousting-the-foreign-objects sort of concept. Because my outline was done in dots, I can see the dots getting visibly smaller and more compact, and some have disappeared completely. But there are a helluva lot of dots. By the end of the first week, which was Tuesday, the fading was visible.

I've learned a lot about myself in the last couple of weeks. I've pushed my own boundaries and seen for myself what I truly think and feel about some things. It's not always clear what we think. We don't know ourselves that well. Win some, learn some.

Hup!

2008-10-30T16:17:00.000+08:00

I lurk around my house of windows very often, camera in hand, spying on the dogs, trying to get all sorts of cutesy shots. Because this is what they do if they see me.

Radical Art - Freedom of Expression, Freedom of Self

2008-10-26T13:12:00.000+08:00

I love tattoos. They are almost as sacred as Christianity to me. They are my personal spiritual journey. Those who know me and are close to me understand and accept that. Those who are not so close, think I am either a bit mad or way too bold and aggresive. There might be some truth in that, but they don't bother me at all. Life is so short. I need to be myself, feel free, before it ends. Tattoos are a lifelong adventure, much of which I have yet to experience. There is a part of me that secretly plans to give it all up and fly away for a year, or a few; and that part is intrinsically tied to the part of me that subscribes to the spirituality of tattoos.

Anyone who's followed my blog over the last 9 plus years would know enough to expect an occasional waxing poetic of tattoos from me. I've been an afficionado of body art since I was in secondary school. I took over 10 years to think about what tattoos mean to me, their permanence, the art of it, and what it would mean for me to have them. I chickened out of a potential disaster in Fremantle, Western Australia, when I was in university. I walked into a tattoo parlour with the stereotypical beer-bellied, Harley-Davison biker-type, bald, handlebar mustachioed tattooist waiting for me to pick a design out of a standard album. I picked a dophin. God knows why. Then I practically ran out, never to return. It was to be another 5 years plus before I bumped into an elderly Orang Ulu lady in the Upper Baram. She was Sab'n, from Long Banga. And she reminded me of my grandmother. It was my first trip up there. There was an encounter of sorts with a logger, and the whole thing is forever etched into my memory. She had soul-stirring tattoos on her legs.

I came back to Kuching, and my ankle band came into existence, inspired by the old Sab'n grandmother. Since then, I've commemorated special events in my life with them, and my cousin is only too happy for me to be his live canvas. It's my personal bejalai, a modern parallel to the traditional Iban way. He did his first traditional method tattoo on me. We've been collaborating for over nine years now. That's how long my love affair with tattoos have been.

I believe the first tattoo is the scariest of the lot. That decision to have it done. The permanence of it. The pain. (That can be quite spiritual). Most of all, the courage to be free to express yourself, be who you are, and to rise above and beyond social conformity.

I feel like I have, for myself, truly broken that barrier of conformity with my latest tattoo. You can hide tattoos. Have them in places that the sun don't shine. Secretly admire them in the privacy of your bathroom, or with a lover, and hide them when you go for that corporate meeting. No sweat. But my latest one. There's no way to hide it. I can be most discreet with it, but it will announce its presence to most.

But J and I have been planning my latest journey in tattooing for almost a year now. Something that shows the higher plane of my personal journey, and the evolution of J's technique. And so it happened. Just the outlining, as you can see, on my left arm. It flows from the work done on my back, shows off my shoulder and triceps quite nicely, tapers off on my fingers. Two and a half hours to design, and another 4 hours to outline it, in dots. It was perhaps the most exciting-scary-exhilarating. It's a 'coming out' statement for me. My friends are in awe more of the pain and the boldness of it. I think I need that boldness. It's being honest of who I am and what I want, and that measured freedom of choice that I choose to exercise. A strong statement of ME.

Two weeks later, I will go back and have it finished.

This is big. A huge big giant event in the life of Cyn. And it will take me some time to settle down, let alone others. So don't worry, I will be gentle with the folks around me.

For now, you could learn braille off of me. But I do feel as pretty as a flower.

2008-10-07T15:07:00.000+08:00

Baby vegies estimated survival rate: I'd say 50%. Simply because I haven't been taking care of the ones out in the bed. The ones under the ylang ylang seem....ok. Yes, I transferred some of them there because I ran out of space. The ones in the various pots are sort of stunted. I think the topsoil I used compact too easily. The ones that I haven't transplanted are thriving. Ho hum. I enjoy the experimenting. Though I also look forward to free vegies.

I have been sleeping at the recommended healthy time every night but am feeling mentally stunned and stunted for two days because of interrupted sleep. I think the next phase is getting myself to actually stand up when I do wake up at some uncivilized hour. Perhaps I could yoga myself back to sleep. Or deep breathe myself back to unconsciousness.

Am reading Lloyd Jones' Mister Pip, which is rivetting me to the pages so far. It's the sort of book I don't put down until I reach the last page.

Week in Review

2008-10-06T09:15:00.000+08:00

Trust that, on a day when the new pictures have not been uploaded, and the camera is not by my side, I have the itch to be chatty, bloggy and verbose.

Monday. Woke up. Smelt flowers. Watered flowers. Went to work. Worked out and hung out. Looked forward to the short week. Honestly, I don't remember what I did on Monday. Having non-existent short-term memory can be bliss.

Tuesday. Woke up. Watered the baby vegies, which were starting to look sorry and droopy....I really do not have much experience planting vegetables. I had help from my granny over 10 years ago. Yoga was good. I enjoy it a lot. Adventures abound in the journey to find one's centre. It's always interesting to stop that thought of wanting to thump someone on the head mid-way through deep breathing.

Wednesday. Hari Raya holiday Day 1! There was much soil to be shovelled from the flower bed. The pages on the journal finished, and a new journal from my stock of neverending plain paper journals of all shapes and sizes from all over was started. Always an exciting moment! Bought hippie clothes online. Indulge, indulge, indulge. Did not go for the last minute trek because had shopping date with mummy and sis and auntie. Woohoo! Well, I really do love trekking but it was too last minute and I love shopping almost as much and that was already planned. Transplanted all my baby vegies so they'd have more space. Survival probability, I'd say 75%.

Thursday. Coffee at the Spring. Peter came back. Peter is the guy who makes the Spring meaningful for my group of friends.

Friday. All I remember is the killer circuit class at gym. Dripping. That was what I was at the end of it. Oh, and more coffee at the Spring.

Saturday. Aching and recovering from Friday's workout. Big fun family party at HI in the evening. So fun that a friend from another wedding party in the same hotel kept popping down to join in. Meanwhile, another friend was falling asleep. I should've just smacked him. On second thoughts, better not. He's so skinny, I might do serious damage.

Sunday. Caught up with an old friend. Even more coffee at the Spring.

And for today's finale, I can't resist a photo........

Pepper and my chicken. If anyone out there can spare an old unwanted soft toy for her, I'd be most grateful. I really don't want my collectible softies saliva-ed, munched on and destroyed by Pepper Dog, cute and adorable as she is.

2008-10-02T20:39:00.000+08:00

The past two days have been bliss. This week really feels as short as it is. Hari Raya hols feels just like that. Hols. Bliss. It really is quite perfect. I couldn't feel more relaxed if I went on a holiday somewhere. I took a few photos of my flowers and garden but have been far too vegged out to upload them.

More soon.

Mooncake Festival

2008-09-15T12:25:00.000+08:00

The Mid-Autumn Festival falls on the 15th day of the 8th lunar month every year. Chinese people worldwide celebrate it. This year, the 15th of the 8th happens to fall on 14th October. There is no autumn in Malaysia. But there are lots of mooncakes around, being the nation of hobbits that we are. So at my house, there's usually a dinner, mooncakes and lanterns. Anything involving food and lots of family is always a plus in my book. I really like it when uncles, aunts and cousins come together for a party. There weren't any cousins around last night, but twin uncles and an aunt are fun enough. And, my sister's ginormously fat Chinese-looking Labrador came to play too, which is always fun because he is so adorable.

Legend has it that there once was an immortal called Houyi. He had a beautifully stunning wife, Chang'e, who worked in the Jade Emperor's (Emperor of Heaven) Palace as the attendant to the Queen Mother of the West (wife of the Jade Emperor). One day, Houyi aroused the jealousy of the other immortals, who then slandered him before the Jade Emperor. Houyi and his wife, Chang'e, were subsequently banished from heaven, and forced to live by hunting on earth. He became a famous archer.

In those days, there were 10 suns circling the earth, in the form of three-legged birds residing in a mulberry tree in the eastern sea. Each day, one of the sun birds would have to travel around the world on a carriage, driven by a deity. One day, all 10 of the suns circled together, causing the earth to burn. Emperor Yao, the Emperor of China, commanded Houyi to shoot down all but one of the suns. Upon the completion of his task, the Emperor rewarded Houyi with a pill that granted eternal life, and advised him: "Make no haste to swallow this pill; first prepare yourself with prayer and fasting for a year". Houyi took the pill home and hid it under a rafter, while he began healing his spirit. Houyi was summoned again by the emperor. Chang'e, noticing a white beam of light beckoning from the rafters, discovered the pill, and swallowed it. Immediately, she found that she could fly and began to fly out the window and towards the sky.

With a bow in hand, Houyi sped after her, and the pursuit continued halfway across the heavens. Finally, Houyi had to return to Earth because of the force of the wind was too great for him. Chang'e reached the moon, and breathless, she coughed. Part of the pill fell out from her mouth. Now, there was a hare on the moon, and Chang'e commanded the animal to make another pill from it, so that she could return to earth to her husband.

The hare is still there, pounding herbs, trying to make the pill. As for Houyi, he built himself a palace in the sun as "Yang" (the male principle), with Chang'e as "Yin" (the female principle). Once a year, on the 15th day of the full moon, Houyi visits his wife. That is why, on that day every year, there is a perfect full moon in the sky.

Well, that's the story I heard, anyway. There's at least 5 other versions of the story, including one that has Mongolian rebellions and hiding secret messages in mooncakes and holding out lanterns on the day. But I'm too lazy to type all that out today.

N.B. Houyi story taken from Wikipedia.

First Entry

2008-09-12T15:31:00.000+08:00

This is the absolute, without a doubt, FIRST blog entry I'm writing from MY house. Yes, MY HOUSE. MINE, MY OWN, BELONGING TO MUA.

In January, my house was ready to be bought. By me. I bought the house (which I have yet to name) in March. Moved in in April. Had it repaired and added the ALL-IMPORTANT library, new gate, which took, well, until this month.

So now I am finally in. The fridge is in. The stove is functioning. My all important blender is on the kitchen island. There's food, and, I might add, HEALTHY food around. The kettled just boiled.

The office is not a reality this self-created extended weekend.

Aaaaah...this is the life.

Ian was a fantastic, wonderful addition to life when he came. He's a much missed presence right now, but he'll be back, and I'll be seeing a lot more of him. We always joke that we're long lost twins. We think the same thoughts, often at the same time, we both have identical unusual things in our possession, and we complement each other.

No, we're not together. We're just twins.

Two Random Thoughts

2008-08-30T18:33:00.000+08:00

Two random thoughts just crossed my mind: 1. When I was very very little, I asked my dad where I came from. He told me I hatched from an egg. Young as I was, I didn't believe him. So I ran to my mum and asked her the same question. She shooed me off with an incoherent mumble (I'm sure she was not ready for that question. Added to which, she was busy at the kitchen when I popped it). Ever since then, I have always appreciated my dad's ridiculous sense of humour without quite trusting him completely when he starts spinning his yarn. Wisely so, I'm sure.

2. Ninety nine percent of Foochow men will look cute or gorgeous in their tweens. Twenty years later, when their 40 and above, 99.99% of them start to look like all of my Foochow grand-uncles. All six or seven of them (the grand-uncles, not the men). I swear, they look like quin- or sextuplets. I had a crush on a Foochow guy about 20 years ago. He was gorgeous, soft-spoken, kind and a true gentleman. I bumped into him recently. He was starting to look like my grand-uncles, but he was still soft-spoken, kind and a gentleman. And to my horror, I found that I still had a slight crush which manifested in my acting like a bloody schoolgirl in front of him. God, slap me silly and hide me under a rock right NOW. But, it was fun. What's the point of having a crush if I can't derive any schoolgirl fun out of it. Hah.

More about what I did in the last two weeks later.

Photo: My favourite photo of the month. Plus, I really feel like a snoozing cartoon right now.

Huff huff Puff Puff

2008-08-18T00:09:00.000+08:00

Busy. Working. Scheming.

Batang Ai. Back.

Matang.

Proper sentences, soon........

Happy Places

2008-07-30T20:10:00.000+08:00

No matter how positive and happy my outlook is, there are days that make a good try at cancelling those positive vibes out. Today is an example. Actually, today was great until one little event at the end of the workday. Skepticism of what I do by someone who has no idea what I do or why I do it, nor appreciate that fact that what I do is the unsung cornerstone of effective nature conservation - human dimensions. Oh well, he has always been known to show traits of arseyness, despite being intelligent. Supposedly. It's quite alright, my dear, you are allowed to get bitchy about the dullness of some people, especially this particular specimen of the opposite sex.

On the bright side, this calls for a revisit to various happy places.

1. I once told a Penan kid that I would put her on my 75L backpack and bring her back to Kuching with me. She believed me. Her mother was rolling on the floor giggling. That is just so me, making little kids half believe silly intentions whilst their mummies roll about laughing. I relish the mischief and that sort of sense of humour.

2. The beach, the beach, the beach. The more remote, the better.

3. Sunsets, sunsets, sunsets. The oranger, the better.

4. The moon, the moon, the moon. The more mysterious, the better.

5. Yoga, more yoga, morer yoga. Thank You for my Yoga masters. They are fantastic. I love their vibes. So calming, relaxing and invigorating at the same time.

6. Raw foodism. And the pursuit of raw foodism, and exploring raw foodism, and talking with raw foodists. Makes me happy. Go figure.

7. Toca Rivera, Jason MRaz, Toca Rivera, Jason MRaz, Toca Rivera, Jason MRaz. This is just so that googling 'Toca' will pull up this page. I am shocked and affronted that Toca is not given more recognition beyond just a few mentions on the World Wide Web. So this is just a test to see that if I mentioned "Toca Rivera" often enough, people who google "Toca Rivera" would see this page pop up in the top five search results. Who knows, the real Toca Rivera or Jason MRaz or their friends might just happen to google "Toca Rivera" for whatever reason. Oh, and I have Toca's phone number, if anyone is interested. SO, the phone number for Mr. Toca Rivera is..............

.........Come on, give the man some privacy! It does ring though. I tried.

And doing all that, makes me vibe positive. Ha.

Photo: One night, when moon was full and cloud was fat, the camera was ready and so I snapped...

My Eep Od

2008-07-15T12:36:00.000+08:00

My Sony Walkman S700 series bailed on me after two years of abuse. Three times a week, every week, for two years, banging against my chest or swinging around as I trash the cardio machines and the weights. Not good. So it was with great glee that I finally got an Eep Od for myself. Woo Hoo. O Musical Muse of Eternal Song, come to my ears. I also got speakers to go with it. So this month, I'm many many many $$$$$$ happier.

What's been happening in the world? Honestly speaking, I have not a clue. I have been kicking up my heels on much coverted downtown out of town, by a beach, with a bunch of friends, old and true.

I love my Eep Od. It has a playlist (amongst many) called Happy Music. What's there not to be happy about? Life is short, so make it good.

The Tubie that got me hooked on Toca

2008-06-18T23:32:00.000+08:00

Ladies and Gentleman, Noel 'Toca' Rivera, Jason Mraz's right hand man, buddy, vocalist and djembe-playing percussionist (vocationist).

Toca

2008-06-18T21:34:00.000+08:00

I stumbled upon Toca and now I'm a fan. Besides looking like my baby brother (he moves like baby bro too), Toca is one mean djembe playing machine. He's the vocationaist for Jason Mraz and Jason's good buddy. I Youtubed Jason's I'm Yours and saw Toca playing and singing next to him. Sorry, Jason, I love your music and but I think I love Toca more because he's Toca.

Photo courtesy of Backstage Pass and Jennifer Fong

2008-06-06T11:23:00.000+08:00

Man is nothing if he forgets the past. He achieves nothing if he does not live for the future. (Man as in male and female man, so don't start the whole gender debate, ya?)

I have always held an intense fascination for the past, especially the history that links my family to this place. Like the antique tiles that used to line the walls of my grandfather's shop, they tell a story of who I am. And that links me to the my own future. It is one thing to reminisce. An utterly useless act that bemoans what is past. It's quite another to empower oneself with the knowledge of the past and catapult to the abundance of the future. This is one of those random thoughts that snapped things into perspective. For me, anyway. The past is gone. My grandparents live on only in my memory. Their legacy lives on, though.

I was reminded just a while ago that the purpose of life is to prepare for eternity. That's very cool. It rings true to me, in any case. Life is a fly-by-night, a fleck in the universe, a bubble in the champagne. It really is. Think about it. We eat, we sleep, we grow old, we die. Is it enough just to live well, be nice and play fair? (and by 'well', I don't mean just the superficial luxuries)? It's just me, but I'd like to get down to the heavy spiritual stuff, thank you very much.

I'm tired, and rambly. I will read this tomorrow and laugh at myself for writing it down. Ha.

The Petrol Pooter Perfaffle

2008-06-02T09:31:00.000+08:00

Petrol prices have increased by what seems like a gazillian percent since last year (let's take it at a flat 30% since prices of goods have not been hiked up since yesterday's 40% increase just yet). But what it boils down to is this:
Kolomee then: RM2.20. Kolomee now: RM3.00 (36.4% increase)
Rice then: RM18 per 10kg pack. Rice now: RM25 per 10kg pack (38.9% increase)
1 sio bee then: RM0.40. 1 sio bee now: RM0.80 (100% increase)
1 drink at the kopitiam: RM1.20 then. The same drink at the kopitam now: RM1.60 (33.3%)
Airfares: let's not even go there...but you get the idea....
My salary then: 10 peanuts. My salary now: 11 peanuts (10% increase)

So, while I have 10% more moolah per month to play with, I am paying over 30% more for everything else in my life, 100% if I want to eat sio bee. WoohooWonderfulExcellent. Well, if we're not happy about things, change things or do something else to retain the balance, I always say. I'm going to have to figure out which is works better for me, change things, or do something else.

Eight Hours A Day

2008-05-30T08:47:00.000+08:00

Here's how I figure it. Most people spend more than half their life working to live (some live to work but let's not go there, that's another topic). Eight prime hours a day, five days a week. That's 40 hours a week, 160 waking premium hours a month, 33.33% of one's life. If a person lived to 80, that's 26 years, 7 months,29 days - a significant proportion, I would say.

By my reckoning, if people spend 33.33% of their life with colleagues, that makes them family. Time should only draw them closer. Otherwise,.....well, only sad, miserable creatures would make enemies, hate, or, worse still, not care about the folks that surround them 33.33% of the time?

Then again, many people are sad, miserable creatures. Losers.

By and large, the folks I'm with are good bunch of people, and the family element is definitely there. There might be one or two who don't see the light and tend to be sarcastic, selfish, judgemental and not that supportive. But that can be fixed.

My point is, life is short, work takes up a significant proportion of a short life. Don't waste bad sentiments and selfish intent at the workplace. Do that and the world will really be a better place.

It's not a dream. Mine's a reality.

2008-05-26T17:31:00.000+08:00

May 25th (yesterday) marked the first anniversary of my grandfather's passing. I was much much closer to my grandmother than I was to him. It wasn't that he didn't show any affection to me when I was kid or anything like that at all. He was a good grandpa to the very young me. But we drifted apart because I spent most of my time with grandma, who lived with us. They were separated for a long long time. He lived in his shophouse. She lived with us.

In many ways, the making of Cyn has always been formed by the influence of the women in this family. Men have always taken a backseat on this. My great aunt was a ~~hunter~~ huntress who toted a shotgun and hiked the much more pristine forests of 55 years ago. No kidding. She was. I never met her, but am told that I am like her (I don't hunt, though). My great-grandmother was the matriach of the family in all sense of the word. Nobody doubted that for one second. Even though in those days, the man had to be the head. But we all know who makes real decisions *wink*. Even today, I am surrounded by hard core badass women who know what they want and make it a point to get it. Pretty cool.

OK, end of family history lesson for the day. I am tired and want to enjoy my evening without thinking about work for one sec. Until tomorrow, anyway.

2008-05-25T12:14:00.000+08:00

My weekends are too short. But it's probably because I need so much time to recover from the weekdays. There's no particular reason that I should feel that my weekdays are unusually tiring. They just feel that way in the last two weeks. These things happen. It's part parcel of the circle of work. I am perhaps feeling a little worked out and peopled out. The idea of people is just not very appealing. I decided to put a stop to something that I have always kept secret and broken it off with Sam. My call. He was ok about it. I think. I mean, it was not a relationship at all. It was just a Thing we had. Mutual consensus. I don't like keeping secrets. And he was definitely a secret. Now that he is not anymore. Tra lala. He did do wonders to my confidence when he was around. But, honestly speaking, it couldn't have gone anywhere.

And so, here I am on a sunny Sunday noon, having overslept (waking up anytime after 8 is oversleeping in my book) and lazed about and done completely naught and feeling like a complete bum of the highest order.

I installed Big City Adventure San Francisco and Big City Adventure Sydney recently and got so addicted to them, I am starting to look like a nerd. I'll have to uninstall them all after today. I need to be more productive.

When It's Someone You Know

2008-05-21T12:10:00.000+08:00

Typhoons, cyclones, earthquakes. I went through life thinking of them as footnotes; sidebars that happen Out There. Not Here. There is a macabre fascination that we have with other people's disasters, especially when the international newsmongers flash their wares on the tube, in the papers, online. And we give a shiver of relief that it's not us. But still, it's dark entertainment, of a kind.

Until someone you know is gone because of one of these newsworthy events. She was a very sweet elderly lady, End's granny. Four foot tall, big smile, bigger glasses. We got along really well the two times that I visited. I have some really lovely photos of her. She has the sweetest smile and her oversized glasses just accentuated her sweetness.

She was on her way to a neighbour's house. I can see her in my mind right now, doing her cute little shuffle. I don't have the full details. But it was during the Indonesian mudslides and torrential rain of a few months ago. Her children told her not to go out of the house. But being her, she did anyway.

They didn't find her until two days later. Not far from End's house. She didn't stand a chance against the flood waters that came her way that day.

The one thing End and I are thankful for is the wonderful memory we have of her. Ours are not the images of her lifeless, but the opposite.

2008-05-20T20:59:00.000+08:00

The first thing I see when I wake up every morning is the blue sky through my ample windows, which I love. I don't draw the curtains at night (I'm high up enough not to worry). The heat's been unbearable lately. I have been loathe to move, let alone gym. And yes, methinks the ample physyque doth begins to resemble the behemoth.

But I do so enjoy the house. The dogs are lovely. The study room is lovely. The library will eventually be up. Tomorrow, the plumber is coming to fix two of the toilets. Ah, the joys of owning property.

At 90

2008-05-19T17:08:00.000+08:00

Not too long ago, we threw a grand birthday bash for my grandmother. She is 90 years old this year. In the time that she has been alive, she has lived through two world wars, seen the coming of refrigeration, commercial flying, computers, private ownership of motorized vehicles, the internet, wifi, zippers, Nike, Reebok and the rest of them, spandex, lycra, and most of the luxuries that we take for granted today.

She is much loved. For her bash, her brothers and sisters (she's the eldest), nephews, nieces, grand-nephews, grand-nieces and great-grandchild came from all over the region to be with her.

The one measure of a life well-lived is the coming together of all who love you at your 90th birthday party.

Photo: Mama beaming with pleasure, and with a shawl wrapped around her lovingly by one of her nieces.

Enter At Own Risk

2008-05-15T00:30:00.000+08:00

I am temporarily at a mental standtill of fairly monumental proportions. It just is not working. The brain, I mean. The layers of intelligentsia, culture, finesse, panache, whatnot. All gone on on vacation at the mo. What is left is an aggro sort of beastie type, ruthless and hungry for blood. Quite thrilling, yet bad for the soul.

Methinks perhaps a time of solitude to write proposals is in order. Otherwise, there might be casualties at work, victims of my bloodlust. I actually do have a couple of folks in mind whose heads I would love to chew on from there. Just for the heck of it. Maybe it really is time to put the patient, nice me aside and unleash the office bitch. That would be fun. See how they run. Shall I Shall I Shall I oh please, Shall I?

Service Smervice

2008-05-14T23:25:00.000+08:00

The service industry in this country sucks like a giant baby on a tree-sized lollipop.

This is where incompetent travel agents yell at their clients.

This is where they call their clients' office and sobs into the telephone.

This is where they try and feed their clients bullshit.

And this is where this client screams back and insists on talking to their manager to make a formal complaint, who incidentally, does not have the professional courtesy to call back.

And this is where this client connects with other travel agencies and dumps the incompent one like a rock smeared with dog turd.

Zen

2008-05-13T23:47:00.000+08:00

It's been a rather taxing day. The travel agent screwed up my accommodation booking and could not rectify it. Nevermind that I made it clear, 4 times, what I needed. They screwed up, and finally wrangled a replacement hotel, very high end, extra expense on them. I gave them a piece of my mind and had them do some running around. But, in the end I decided to decline their offer of staying at the Eastin. Simply because I do not trust them to have the booking right.

There are a few reasons I am not too bothered about the wasted time, the waiting, the telling people off: a new rug, a new rug, a new rug.

It's a short trip, but I'm hoping to meet up with the Worm. Stupidly, I lost her number when I changed my phone. Call me, Wormy.

2008-05-12T21:52:00.000+08:00

Having a house of my own is such fun. A few of my friends pooled together and bought me a really fantastic coffee table. Friends and loved ones gave a dining table set, a new stove, free drilling service so I get to hang my own photos on the wall (photos that I took, not photos of me. Puhleez). I feel so blessed. Obi Wan gets the back garden to himself. I get the front. He does invade the front lawn when he pleases. I don't mind. Pepper visits a lot. I'm in the process of shifting Cookie in. She'll need some time though. She's slim enough to slip through the drain and escape; and she has done so a few times. So I had to bring her back to my folks' place. I'm waiting for people to do up some minor fittings. But I am enjoying the house immensely. They say that love penetrates the walls of a house. I'm giving mine a lot of love vibes. Hopefully, it will ooze love. Ha. Seriously though, it's open to my church group anytime. I think it's vitally important that there was a dedication and prayer session here before I moved in. These things are important to me.

Financially, it does take away a significant portion of cash flow away from me. But it's an investment. In lifestyle and financially. It's landed property, and it's not that small a house. Heck, for one person, it's positively humongous. Even if it's one person plus dogs.

Photo: Misty mountain air surrounds a tree en route to the peak of Mt Kinabalu.

Four-legged Escapades

2008-05-09T09:19:00.000+08:00

She makes it a point to maneuver past my legs like how Eowyn and Merry waeve past the gargantuan legs of the mamukil, and zoom towards my bedroom door. Without fail, especially when my mother is not looking. If the door is shut, she sits down and waits haughtily, as if she is owed an open door. If it is open, she speeds towards my bed and does a dive bomb into it. The entire act takes a matter of seconds. I normally have a throw-over on my bed just for the occasion. I would watch a DVD. She would snore, or watch with me if it's her type of movie. Sunday afternoons are normally our let's-spoil-the-dog-while-mum-is-not-looking day. My father is co-conspirator. When the wife is out, the dog gets to go upstairs to his TV room. And End, oh End just loves cuddling her. Her muzzle is so soft and velvety (the dog's. End doesn't have a muzzle).

The dog just loves it. And we love indulging her. Honestly though, who can resist a face like that?

In Perspective

2008-05-07T15:54:00.000+08:00

There is a coffee place that we meet up in, almost every day. I've taken to bringing my own coffee container there just for the homeliness factor. We talk about a lot of things, the few of us who have known each other for, oh, going on for 8 years now with. And it's just so nice and comfortable to do that. All different walks of life, very different people; but so familiar with each other's lives. How do you not become family after that?

Things like that take up a large proportion of my day. Coming home to Obi Wan and Pepper is a very nice feeling. Preparations for the specialist coaching and teaching take up some time; keeping in touch with friends out of town; planning the house decor; and work, of course.

And that's why the blog gets neglected. Heck, even the writing suffers somewhat. I make no promises to start blogging with fervour, but I will be less blog-inert after this week.

Hopefully.

Photo: A tree I met somewhere outside of Miri. It's perspective that counts, ain't it...

Moving Out

2008-05-04T10:35:00.000+08:00

I moved into my own house yesterday. That's a view of the kitchen area. Bought the place recently in a great location. Really great neighbourhood. Nice little place. Not so little for one person, but as is, it's one person with 2 dogs. They have their garden at the back. They mostly leave my garden in front alone.

There's no living room furniture yet. I think that can wait. I don't know what to expect, but this is probably the most major thing I've done in my adult life.

On Top of the World

2008-05-04T10:10:00.000+08:00

I have always always wanted to go up Mount Kinabalu. But my knee and feet injuries have always forced me to shelve the idea. I suppose they also made me more determined to prove that I can do it in spite of them. I started climbing again last year. Small local bumps and treks like Santubong and Bako, and Serapi. To build up confidence.

I would say that the road up Kinabalu is a lonely one. But a welcomed sort of aloneness. There is plenty of time to think, especially when you have that resthouse three thirds of the way up the mountain in your sight and it takes another hour to reach it and your knee is up to your chin because of the steepness; or when you're wondering what the hell possessed you to take this on when you're climbing in the dark at 3am in the morning in the blistering cold, and you're dangling on a road halfway up the mountain, and your ignorance is truly bliss because on the way down, you think, how the shit did I get up with this bit of string and oh hell I have to go down the same way again.

It was very drab and gray the day I did the final ascent. I was the slowest and the last one to drag my feet up. But being slow had one very important advantage - no altitude sickness. On the way down from the summit, the rain came down in sheets. The rock surface was turned into beds where streams of water shot down at high speed. There was little sunrise and very quickly, all was obliterated by heavy mist. Very un-April like conditions, they say.

Our guides were these little hobbit-like Kadazan-Dusuns from the mountain. Amazing people. They are about 4 feet tall and strong as a dozen oxen. Very decent folk. Patient beyond words and completely unjudgemental.

I lugged up my camera, which seemed to weight about 50 pounds, but I was too busy huffing and puffing to take many photos. The ones that I took weren't really to my satisfaction. My hands were shaking too much from the cold or from exertion.

The shopping spree and pampering that followed in KK city after the climb was a force to be reckoned with. My friends and I had amazing fun; a lot poorer after, but fun.

On A Sunny Sunday....

2008-03-22T23:48:00.000+08:00

Someone pointed out a post to me recently. I don't normally waste my time on this particular person's blog (psst..cos I don't like them very much at all). Anyways, there it was. Didn't like the post very much neither. But it did draw out a point to me. We who blog often do so under interesting, often funny, sometimes sad, delusions. Notice I say often. I know plenty of bloggers who keep a healthy check on their reality. You know who you are, Becks and Peter, Chet, Gette, amongst many. That made me do a quick check of my reality and my perspectives.

Here is my reality: the fact that I will move out into my own house soon. Yes, my own house; the fact that I have my own dogs in my own house (..ok, fine, one of them is shared custody); the fact that I am a little stressed out from pushing my boundaries non-stop in the last month and a half; the fact that I am going on a holiday in a few hours' time (yay); the fact that I have a bunch of good people whom I call friends and family, and as mixed bags normally are, they don't and don't have to see eye to eye all the time; the fact that I don't blog or write much at all these days because there is so much to do - at work, at play, at home; the fact that I took a blind step out of my comfort zone which is reaping some benefits now, even though I'm still out of my comfort zone; the fact that I have a big thing to do by November 1st which will take me further away from my comfort zone. Not sure about that one, but it's something I need to do at some point.

So there it is. Unusual that I should have time to blog today. But it's an opportunity born of disopportunity. One man's shit is another's fertilizer, as they say, or something like that.

Photo: sunset at Santubong Bay. Copyright Cyn

Goodbye Stryker

2008-03-10T10:53:00.000+08:00

Stryker C. aka the Lion King, died on 6 March, 2008. He was almost entirely blind, and quite deaf. He was 18 years old. Jelly the Cat, his best buddy and bestest pal, spent the night crying and looking for him. I was very sad to hear of his passing, but at least he is keeping my grandmother company now, along with all our extended family dogs who have gone ahead.

Photo copyright J.C. 2007

Furry

2008-02-24T20:47:00.000+08:00

My Friend Bern and His Friend

2008-02-24T20:11:00.000+08:00

Welcome to the Predator's Lair

2008-02-17T19:56:00.000+08:00

'Tis the season to prey. It;s my torture chamber motif.

The Condition of My Blog

2008-02-17T19:24:00.000+08:00

No Time For Words

2008-02-12T21:55:00.000+08:00

In A Pig's Tail

2008-02-09T19:54:00.000+08:00

The tail of the Pig has not been a good one for many of my friends. So they're all looking forward to a fine old Rat year.

Chinese New Year is always a struggle for me. I fight for rest and relaxation but being Chinese, I do the obligatory welcoming of visitors to the house. Personally, I only visit old friends whose company I enjoy anyway, and family I am already in constant contact. Let's be honest, why visit people just because and why impose oneself on family one hardly knows?

I also don't invite people to my house, because my house is always open and if they want to visit, they visit. Besides, if I say, "Come to my open house", I'll end up entertaining legions and not have time to truly sit down with friends to have a good chat. Again, what is the point?

That said, I had a pleasant one this year. I still have not had that R & R I wanted, but I had fun with friends, plus a couple of splashing abouts in the pool. The weather has been arsy. The rain is starting to get depressing. And I just heard that End's village is completely flooded.

The shopping, on the other hand, has been fantastic. My wardrobe has finally burst open. No kidding. It has. There was a small explosion and the walls blew off. So now I'm going to have to wear out my clothes faster than I did before. Perhaps I should stop washing them just so they'll rot faster. And then I can go shop for more.

2008-01-20T21:42:00.000+08:00

First day of Chinese New Year and what do I do? Go for a swim. I was queen of the blue blue pool. The rest of the place was quiet as a mouse. Or should I say quiet as a rat since it is the first day of the Year of the Rat.

This is bliss, really. What I wanted. Quiet do. This is the first year that my I don't have both my paternal grandparents with me for Chinese New Year. Frankly speaking, the festival kinda died for me when grandma died. Still, there was grandpa to visit down at the shop. But since grandpa died last May, it just isn't the same. Oh, of course there's still mom's mom, and grandma's sister and brother. But it still isn't the same.

So I took to the pool in an attempt to fight off the slobbishness. It works too.

T-4 Days

2007-12-27T16:51:00.000+08:00

It's Christmas. Past Christmas, actually.

I'm busy. Christmasing.

And New Yearing.

What about you?

Old Stomping Ground

2007-12-07T23:35:00.000+08:00

Just came back from my old stomping ground - the Baram. Spent a very nice few days up there. Met some old friends from the two Longs that I used to spend so much time in. Visited the 300-foot waterfall that I have always loved. The last time I was at the falls was about 10 years ago. It was dry season then so I could go all the way up and looked down from the edge. Yesterday, it was spewing white mist from 300 feet up. Amazing. I could've looked at it for hours. Days, even.

As always, it's like you stepped through a lost world when you're there one day and back in town the next. I miss the forest. I'm thinking of going up there to visit Pasimbasimba's site next year. It's near my old trails.

Lao Children

2007-12-03T23:19:00.000+08:00

School kids from Bolikhamsai District, outside of Vientianne.

2007-12-02T14:04:00.000+08:00

Laos, KL, back to Kuching. Then Miri and then KL again. All within the span of 35 days. My house is starting to feel like a hotel. Ha. But I'm tired. Right now, I'm only half way through the travel schedule. Miri is coming up, and then KL again. I'm not complaining though. It's been fulfilling. And I mean the long term type of fulfilling, not the cheap thrill, 30 seconds of feel-good factor type.

Photo: Blue skies and sunny days are what we have not right now. It's been raining 24hours x 3 days straight now. But I have sunny Sulawesi to remind me.

Lemons

2007-12-01T10:20:00.000+08:00

I spent hundreds of bucks on an external hard drive and happily backed up my photos on it, and found that a good bunch of my stock got corrupted just a few short months after.

Thank God I'm pedantic when it comes to backing up. The hard drive is a lemon because the supplier I went to sells lemons. Idiot.

Photo: One of my sunsets that survived.

2007-11-22T00:01:00.000+08:00

Vat Mixay, downtown Vientianne.

2007-11-18T15:38:00.000+08:00

One thing that I haven't done in Vientianne is to take a tuk tuk. It's such a pedestrian friendly city that there is no reason to. The morning market holds many attractions for me, being the ethnophile that I am.

Waiting to go for yet another massage in an hour or so. Yesterday's massage was so good, I actually fell asleep and was probably snoring because I open my eyes and saw the masseuse stifle a giggle. It was that good. Definitely one of the best, if not the best massages I've ever had (and I have had a lot). Nalini was completely zonked out next to me. Her masseuse was stifling a giggle too. Ha.

Sabai Dee

2007-11-15T21:59:00.000+08:00

Vientianne is the most charming city I have come across yet. Great food, reasonable prices, lovely people. If it stays the way it is for the next 50 years, I will consider retiring here. But of course, it will not stay that way. It the last innocent trapped by neighbours hungry to be the first to exploit it for profit. By 2010, 200,000 mainland Chinese will have relocated here - an agreement made by the Lao government to mainland China in exchange for the SEA Games stadium. Meanwhile, Malaysian giants are here building dams and bleeding the country resources, as are giants from Italy, Japan, you name it.

But this week. This week, I wander the streets of Vientianne, drinking and eating Laotian and authentic French food in turn, the French food being a remnant of the French colonizers of pre-1970s. There are Scandinavian bakeries and italian bistros too.

I have work, of course. But never have my work trips been so much pleasure as it is here in the Land of A Million Elephants, the Paris of the East. What absolute charm. What absolute blessing too, to have a job that takes me to places like this.

Local people speak to me in Lao, not being able to differentiate my looks from theirs, but are nonetheless very gracious when I indicate my ignorance.

Photo: the Scandinavian bakery a stone's throw from my hotel. There is also much remnant French architecture in Vientianne.

2007-11-09T23:01:00.000+08:00

My act of love for today. Ba's headstone came. And managed to wedge a good sized lump in all our throats. It's really quite lovely. Uncle D and I put it on her spot under the tree. I actually would like to go there more often now that it's there.

But I'm off to Laos tomorrow. Mixed feelings, really - excited, apprehensive, worried that I have been too busy to prepare for it workwise, and intensely missing Ba, of course. But, here's the checklist:

Packing - check
Camera - check
Laptop - check
mp3 - CHECK!
Toiletries - check, I think...
Passport & documents - check
Anti-depressants - I lost them. But I think it's divine intervention that I did. STOP TAKING THEM LIKE A CRUTCH, WOMAN!
Reading material - check (Stephen Fry's Hippoppotamus and Debbie Seaman's A Handbook for Fearful Flyers

Full on until the after the first week of December!

2007-11-03T21:30:00.000+08:00

Heello, November......zzzzzzzzzzzzz

2007-10-31T20:49:00.000+08:00

I'm not very sure I am ready to move on to another entry. Two rather significant events have been initiated by yours truly recently, the outcome of which remains entirely uncertain. Nonetheless, I have rolled the pebble that could possibly cause the proverbial avalanche. So there you go. Godspeed, come what may.

I'm a tad tired of things. I suppose that is not much of a surprise, considering the number of demises (is there a plural for the word?) this year. It's that time when one would not mind staying on one's own private isle for a bit. C'est la vive.

I have been reading diligently, not surprising since it is one of two activities I can totally immerse myself into (the other being bushwhacking) with relentless focus.
Naturally, book-shopping to acquire the reading material is half the pleasure, which means I now have a smoldering pocket still smoking from the hole I've burnt through it with my indulgence.

Books bought in October:
1. The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly
2. Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman
3. The Lost World by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
4. The Timewaster Diaries by Robin Cooper
5. The Fearless Flyer's Handbook by Debbie Seaman
6. Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer

Books Read in October:
1. The God of Small Things by Arudhati Roy (a gift from a friend)
2. The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly
3. Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman
4. The Lost World by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
5. The Timewaster Diaries by Robin Cooper
6. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (re-read)
7. The Fearless Flyer's Handbook by Debbie Seaman
8. Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer
9. The Memory-Keeper's Daughter by Kim Edwards (borrowed - still reading)

Photo: The little fort by the waterfront, Kuching.

Sheba

2007-10-21T22:04:00.000+08:00

Sheba C.: 8 January, 1999 - 16 October, 2007

Sheba came to me as a welcome-home gift. A frantic puppy greeting me with wet kisses and stump for a tail that looked like a vibrating button. One look at her, and you had to fall in love. She was smart, sassy and opinionated. And what a face. She let you know when she was pissed off, and she knew when to comfort you. She was our angel on earth, a being who gave unconditional love without judgement.

She was there when Dozer, my old friend, her predecessor, died. She howled in grief the second my granny died. Granny loved her in her own way. Used to call her ‘Siva’ and ‘Cheeba’ interchangeably. She was with us when we pulled down the old house to rebuild it and moved somewhere else temporarily while that was being done. Most of all, for End, she came to us the same year that End did. She was End’s introduction to me.

What do I say? She lit up my life. She lit up all our lives. We had walks, we had car rides. She loved car rides. She has..had..a special yellow quilt for car rides. We buried her in it. She used to have a fantastic sway in her backside when she walked. Left, right, left right. It was a definite strut.

When End had to leave for nine months last year, she suffered her worst bout of tick fever. By the time she recovered, she slowly lost the use of her hind legs. Thence started an intensive bout of therapy designed by those of us who love her, with DC, RC and JC coming in almost every night to give her physiotherapy. We built the wheelchair for her. We built her a radioflyer, a special Ba-sized one. And she started to walk again.

Before that final day, before the tumour, she fought the paralysis and she learned to walk again. We had more car rides; and pulled her along on the radioflyer around the neighbourhood. Cars stopped and stared in wonder at the spectacle that was us.

Not long after End came back, the cancer came upon her. It grew so big and so ugly. I hated it so much. Slowly but surely, she started her final journey. She didn’t really go, you know, until I told her it was ok, and that I would be fine. Less than 2 days, and she left, like how I prayed for - in her sleep. She just didn’t wake up the next day. She looked at me that night. One last look. Fool that I was. I thought I had one more week with her. I thought I was going to come back from KL next Wednesday and see her.

I smelt her the other day. A whiff from where she used to lay, by the VW bug. And the second time, her scent was on my fingers, distinctly. I was at the office at the time. And the same day, I smelt her in the breeze. It was her scent, and then it changed to something else.

For me, there is a Ba-shaped hole in the universe now. Just like there is a granny-shaped hole. Nothing can fill them of course. But that’s ok. We go on. Until it’s time not to go on any longer.

2007-10-15T21:10:00.000+08:00