Hey, it's been a while

For you, there'll be no more crying.
For you, the sun will be shining.
And I feel that when I'm with you,
It's alright, I know it's right.

To you, I'll give the world.
To you, I'll never be cold.
'Cause I feel that when I'm with you,
It's alright, I know it's right.

And the songbirds are singing, like they know the score.
And I love you, I love you, I love you, like never before.

And I wish you all the love in the world.
But most of all, I wish it from myself.

And the songbirds keep singing, like they know the score
And I love you, I love you, I love you
Like never before, like never before, like never before.

- Songbird, Christine McVie

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Good for you

Today, I made my way in my ill-fitting uniform to Home Team Academy to attend an Award Ceremony. I am getting my 5-year service medal today.

5-year service...only because the next category is 12.

I spent 10 years as an instructor and then 9 years as an officer. So maybe...if I am still in this, I will get the next service award in 3-4 years.

Hmm.
Interesting.

Fever!

As it is, I seldom have the opportunity to blog but tonight I'll make an exception.

I have been quite apathetic towards the opposition ever since JBJ died and Chiam See Tong ..well...becomes what he is now. However, my spirit is renewed this year after seeing Chee Soon Juan back on the saddle, with much maturity, composure and 'semangat'.

I caught his first 2015 rally 'live' at Choa Chu Kang Stadium last week and well, it was worth the trip. He was full of conviction but polite, on point without being crass. He was a true gentleman speaker, nothing like his offensive, fiery manner of the past. But, don't mistake the lack of angst for toothlessness for the fire is still there. Chee Soon Juan, you have heart's vote.

Will I vote for the oppo down in my constituency?
Do I want to see Ang Mo Kio boys Roy Ngerng and M. Ravi in parliament?
Shh.
My vote is secret.
Apparently.

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A milli a milli...

Oh my dear Blogspot!

It's 10th of Ramadan already and also, it's my last weekend before school resumes this Monday. My June has been quite interesting, with me exploring Vietnam and going back to Krabi, this time with my Mom. I was away for almost half of June. Now, I need to lie low financially...

...but that is going to be hard cause Hari Raya is around 20 days away.

Low key Hari Raya as usual for me. For many years, I have gone without new shoes, bags and accessories (cause the best accessory you can have is your, ahem, mind). Still, I think this Hari Raya, I shall get myself a new pair of shoes. Don't think my mom will be happy with my wearing of Converse sneakers or Doc Mart boots with baju kurung.

Ah, all these earthly things.  *breathes*

Abby is leaving for Canada next month. Think that's the last of my Filipino friends leaving me. First it was Gladys, then Jing and Des, and now Abby. These were the peeps who coloured my TMC days and I'd never forget their company. Good times, good times.

Time check: 3.10pm.

Slept my morning away, only to wake up to worry about my bills (it's payday and it's headache day as well). I have survived 2.5 years without my credit cards and well, the pain of seeing everything paid in cash is both heartbreaking and liberating at the same time. Such messed up thoughts.

Okay.

I shall go back to staring at my bank account in disbelief. I woke up with a few grand and after paying and planning and setting aside, I'm left with hundreds.

A millionaire I'll never be.

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Don't turn the fish over

Date: Monday 8 June 2015
Time: 2330hrs
Place: On a train from Hanoi to Da Nang (with 13 more hours to go)

"Should I turn the fish over?"
"We, Chinese, have a belief...we dont turn the fish while we're on a boat. You know...it's like a boat overturning or capsizing."

So I did not turn the fish, even though logically I should, for there was still some savoury flesh on the other side. I then deboned it, albeit poorly, so as not to waste the fish.

Anyway, what I am trying to say is that, as much as I wanted too scoff at Lauren's logic, I decided to just stick to her belief for it would then give her (and the three fellow table mates from China) a peace of mind as we cruised the Halong Bay.

This little anecdote really coincided with what happened down at Mount Kinabalu recently. Many indigenous people believed that the earthquake was a reaction to the indecent acts done by the Canadian climbers who decided to strip naked up the mountain, considered sacred by many Sabahans.

Being the rational, logical people that many of us are, it is hilarious for some to grasp how an earthquake can be associated to silly frat acts done by ignorant, obnoxious tourists. Still, that does not give us the right to belittle the belief of those Sabahans who believe that Mount Kinabalu (Aki Nabalu) is the place where the spirits go once their earthly bodies have expired.

I am definitely one who is for the freedom of behaviour and speech provided they do not hurt or harm. It is the right of humans to have beliefs and customs so to make fun of that is to tar the sanctity of freedom. You want to strip naked at your home ground, sure, go right ahead but to do that in a place not your own, that just reeks of arrogance, snobbery and foolishness.

Anyway, I have not heard much but I hear the Sabah authorities are making sure the starkers stay in Sabah to help them with investigations. I think it is for the indecent acts (stripping naked, much to the dismay of the local mountain guides) and not for the earthquake. One of the nudists tweeted something really offensive and even insulted a Malaysian minister. Well...that would definitely make his predicament better...NOT.

Okay. It is hard to carry on penning this thought on a moving train.

###

Ha-Noi the crap out of you :)

Pardon the lame title. Must be the (Ha)noi-sy traffic getting to me.

Greetings.

Hanoi has been laidback, nothing much to do àfter 8pm. Didn't help that it had been raining buckets. Went to Halong Bay today and my highlight was the kayaking segment. Loved it.

Tomorrow will be the last day here. One more round of Hanoi before heading to the train station in the evening. Close to 20 hours on the Vietnam Railway...all the way to Danang. This is going to be interesting.

Ok. Blogging using my phone is bloody Hanoi-ing. Ah.

Tour of duty

It is time. School vacation is here and I am off to Vietnam.

Heading to Hanoi..before making my way down to Danang and eventually, Saigon.

Watch out for this space

I think.

###

No greater agony than bearing an untold story

Bus ride
10pm
12 May 2015

I have not been writing. I have not gotten anything published (or even out of my head) lately - be it casual, features or academic.

 It is 2015 and I have not gotten anything published for two years already. This is the longest "unpublished" period of my life ever since I turned 20. Having prided myself as a writer, albeit a wannabe, this is slowly killing me inside.

See.
Penning this down worsen my headache.
This jerky bus ride is not making this hell I am feeling any better.
Have mercy.
 I am getting old, and getting really grumpy.


###

Joie de vivre

I am still here. Or so, I think.

How do I define here? Well, physically still around, I guess.

Mentally...I am everywhere.

But, it was my call I know.

Now, I am just waiting for term to end, CIA course to clear and Journ class to wrap up.

I have Vietnam in a few weeks' time.

But...till then, I have the above said things to go through plus, 1 camp, 1 kayaking session and many papers to mark.

Urgh.

Where's the love, people?


###

Act III, Scene I

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover’d country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.–Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember’d.

.......

The question for Hamlet was whether to continue to exist or not – whether it was more noble to suffer the slings and arrows of an unbearable situation, or to declare war on the sea of troubles that afflict one, and by opposing them, end them. To die. He pondered the prospect. To sleep – as simple as that. And with that sleep we end the heartaches and the thousand natural miseries that human beings have to endure. It’s an end that we would all ardently hope for. To die. To sleep. Perhaps to dream. Yes, that was the problem, because in that sleep of death the dreams we might have when we have shed this mortal body must make us pause. That’s the consideration that creates the calamity of such a long life. Because, who would tolerate the whips and scorns of time; the tyrant’s offences against us; the contempt of proud men; the pain of rejected love; the insolence of officious authority; and the advantage that the worst people take of the best, when one could just release oneself with a naked blade? Who would carry this load, sweating and grunting under the burden of a weary life if it weren’t for the dread of the after life – that unexplored country from whose border no traveller returns? That’s the thing that confounds us and makes us put up with those evils that we know rather than hurry to others that we don’t know about. So thinking about it makes cowards of us all, and it follows that the first impulse to end our life is obscured by reflecting on it. And great and important plans are diluted to the point where we don’t do anything.

(Adapted from http://www.nosweatshakespeare.com/quotes/hamlet-to-be-or-not-to-be)

.......

I just want to sleep.

###

Father

For all his uncompromising ways, strong-headedness and sometimes absurd notions on life, Lee Kuan Yew was still the one who had the brain to mould us to what we are now.

You will always be rememberd.

May you finally rest in peace.

And I hope you were kidding when you said you would haunt us.

Okay. Bad joke.

Rest in peace, dear Sir.

###

An evening in Paris-London-Paris

On the Eurostar back to Paris from London. Penning this down is hard, but I'll try and do it anyway

(as if on cue, Damien Rice's The Blower's Daughter came on.)

It is hard to see your parents getting older by the day. I think my father is having a hard time grappling with the fact that he is old in his years. He is frustrated that sometimes he bungles things up like simply operating the TV and other chores. I think he is frustrated that he cannot do things for us (well things that do not require money, at least) and that he slows us down sometimes when we go out.

I, on the other hand, am frustrated seeing him not succumbing to nature and just be old. Okay, wait. I take that back. I don't think I really know how to react here. What should I do? The mother is still very much in her prime and refuses to be empathetic towards the father, often chastising him for being slow.

Maybe it is her way of dealing with getting old. Deny it and it will go away. Maybe men should not get married to women who are more than 5 years their junior. Growing old together will be a bitch.

The train is moving on really fast and the father is still not back yet from his toilet/water break. His balance and movements are now slow and hesitant.

Should I go look for him?
Okay. Let's give him 5 more minutes.

The mother, the niece and the sister are sleeping here beside me. I cannot get to sleep. My heart is just not settled seeing everyone slumping uncomfortably on their seats. This is definitely not a way for old folks to travel. But...it was my father's wish to take the Eurostar to London. Damn. He should have done all these when he was younger, not at the grand age of 64...with gout, diabetes and a weak heart to boot.

(Yes, older folks are travelling but they are not my parents. They can climb Kilimanjaro for all I care.)

Father is still not back. The green-haired girl across the aisle is looking at me, smiling. She's on her headphones. Maybe she is listening to something happy, unlike me, who is now listening to 'The Everlasting' by the Manic Street Preachers. She's bopping her head up and then now. Good for her. Youth is definitely her colour.

Father is still not back. Maybe he is searching for food. Afterall, it is 7.30pm now. The last meal we had was at 1pm at the Malaysian Hall with Nora, my ex-Art Director from MediaCorp.

Anyway, the trip to London earlier was ...well...interesting. I think we were all overwhelmed by the sheer number of people thronging the streets. The bone numbing cold weather didnt help either. Nevertheless, I think the father had fun looking at the sites he heard and saw on the newspapers, TV and movies (him being such a movie buff). Wish I could let the family stay a day longer but I could not afford London accommodation. Maybe next time. Just the parents and me. If we have the good health and good fortune. God willing.

God.

Now that's another topic for another day.
Let me finish 'Still Alice' in the mean time.

(And Manic's The Girl Who Wanted to be God plays.)

###

Paris Je'taime

"I could be a movie star if I could get out of this place," groans Billy Joel as his voice blares through the headphones.

Gosh, it has only been 20 minutes on the Eurostar and I really wish this journey will end soon. Sitting backwards, sharing space with three squabbling English sisters is not making this journey a breeze either. Yes, I am troublesome like that.

I'm reading 'Still Alice' and the words are slowly melting together. Gosh. So many distractions.

The past 4 days in Paris had been brilliant. Tiring but definitely brilliant, probably because I had such a low expectation of Paris in the first place. As my initial plan was to visit Suet Fun, the pastry student at Ferrandi, I did not have many other plans. Not that I love plans anyway. But when the parents expressed their desire to come along, of course plans of having no plans had to change. Anyway...thank God for the Paris Pass.

Bjork's 'Play Dead' is on. Great. The siblings' mother has just come over and more yakking is happening, but now, it's in Italian, or Dutch. Okay whatever I don't care. Just shush.

Back to Paris.

Sunday saw us ambling past French customs at the unearthly hour of 7 in the morning. Everything was smooth and we were out by 7.30. That was unexpected cause I have heard really bad stuff about the service at Charles de Gaulle airport. A driver was waiting for us and soon we were whisked off to Paris and reached our accommodation at 8.20am. Too early. We were only expected at 9.30am. Anyway, settling issues aside, we finally got ready to hit the Paris rue around 10.

Day 1: The first thing we did was to take the hop-on, hop-off bus (Big Bus) just so that we could get our bearings and to get our tourist freak on. I was actually in awe. That's good, right? For someone quite jaded with city life, I was actually really in awe. Paris was indeed beautiful like a painting. 

After freezing our faces off on the bus, we alighted at the Eiffel Tour stop. 

We only took the lift halfway for the summit was close, probably the crowd quota had been fulfilled. Not a biggie. Halfway was still high enough and the bloody wind did not add on to much regret anyway.

Got back around 5ish. Tired, plus I was meeting Suet Fun around 6 to pass her the stuff I brought from Singapore. We went to a cafe to catch up and by 8pm Sunday, I unceremoniously passed out without changing clothes only to wake up at 3am in a state of panic because the plan for next day was not done.

Day 2: So we decided it was the day for the Lourve Museum. Thanks to the Paris Pass, we did not have to queue for long.


 Lourve was overwhelming not just for me but doubly so for my parents. Where to look, where to start. The father, being one who was not familiar with art (for he's just a plebeian like you and me) was warned many times by the curators not to teach the sculptures. Tsk.

We spent three hours at the Louvre. After finding the Mona Lisa, I could not stomach anymore art. So we got out and made our way to a place where we, the Singapore gypsies, hippies and bohemians (ahem!), could fit in. We went to see the Moulin Rouge at glorious Montmarte.

Montmarte was beautiful. I was in love. Oh my, I could spend the rest of my life here. Of course whenever a Singaporean says this about a certain place, it simply means the place is a tourist trap. Hahaha. Oh well. It's beautiful and artistic nevertheless. We took the mini train which brought us up to the top of Montmarte where Sacre Coeur stood and spent about an hour plus gallivanting around the area.

C'est magnifique. I'm in love and that's a very rare feeling for me, okay.

Montmarte was not the last stop. We headed to Montparnasse after that, one of the tallest buildings in Paris, to get a full 360-degree view of the whole of Paris.

Headed home after that, but not before stopping at Carrefour downstairs. The mother prepared spaghetti for dinner but unfortunately, I passed out before dinner was even ready. Man, the jetlag was killing me.

Day 3: The plan today was to go to the Orsay Museum, Notre Dame and then a cruise down the river Seine. But at the train station, plans got thwarted and we headed to Versailles instead.

Versailles was huge. Don't even get me started on the garden. It was almost obscene to dedicate such vast land to nothingness. Yes, I'm a Singaporean. We are used to fighting for space, okay?

The Versailles palace was definitely breath-taking. The opulent chambers, the grand paintings, the ornate cornice... were really stuff drawn out of a fairy tale (well...you can say they were). We spent about two hours in there and by the time we hit the garden, we were all shagged out of our skulls. Thank God there was the mini train which could bring us all around the garden. It was 7.50 euro but damn, we would take it.

We slowly left Versailles around 3.30pm and made our way to the Notre Dame Cathedral. I knew about this gothic cathedral, thanks to Victor Hugo's The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Always wanted to see the gargoyles but I guess, at 4.30pm, in the blistering sun, those gargoyles just looked like angry, malnourished cats.

We hung out on the grounds of the cathedral for a while before making our way to Pont de Art, the bridge that had thousands of locks. The sister and the niece wanted to place a lock on the bridge, for whatever commitment issue they had in their lives. I pooh-poohed the idea, of course, for I was never the romantic when it came to this. I did not understand the logic. Plus, the locks were such an eyesore to an otherwise beautiful landscape. Ah, whatever you deem fit, I guess.

We were making our way to the metro when the mother saw Shakespeare & Company book store. Without much hesitation, we crossed the street to visit the quaint book store. Best decision of my life for I had discovered my most favourite place in Paris. Yes, I'm a geek like that. I bought a couple of Hemingways and Huxley's A Brave New World, all received the store stamp on its imprint page, and I received a free tote bag. Ah, my life was complete...

...so was my spending days. I just broke my last 50 euro and was now left with 10. Any purchase after would have been funded by the father. (Don't judge. We had an agreement. I paid for everything else prior to getting to Paris).

We headed to the Eiffel grounds again and took a river cruise at 8pm, just in time to see the light show on the steel structure. The cruise, though comfortable and informative, was marred by the cold night wind. Still, we would not have missed it for the world.

Stopped by a kebab place downstairs before heading home with takeouts. I did not manage to eat them for dinner cause...yes...I passed out. At 10.30pm, it was way past my bedtime.

Day 4: The parents and the sister decided to call in 'sick' and stayed home so the niece and I headed to Palais Opera for our free guided tour at 11.30am.

Unfortunately when we reached at 11.20am, we were told that the tour group was full and should we still want to go on the tour, we could only join the 2.30pm tour. Ah...screw it, we said, and we headed to Orsay Museum but not before being victims of a botched pickpocket attempt.

This happened at Opera subway  (should be..I forgot) as we were making our way to Rer C. A man came close and I could feel him coming close. I thought I kept a distance but apparently the distance was not far enough. Fortunately the niece turned around and saw the man trying to untie my bag. He saw her and panicked, and began to ramble for directions instead. I did not know any better and actually gave him directions. Bloody motherfucker. Thank God he did not take any valuables -- my purse and passport were in the side compartment. Still, thank God for my niece who managed to see it just in time. Otherwise, my bag of sanitary pads would have been gone.

We reached Orsay Museum a bit flustered and paranoid from the incident. But we were slightly soothed after seeing the van Gogh's masterpieces. Orsay was a laidback place. No rush and not too overwhelming. It was not crowded and the size of the former railway station was just nice. Manageable. After analysing the work of Toulouse-Lautrec, we hung outside the museum to eat our kebabs and reflect on the pickpocketing incident.

We walked to the Lourve from Orsay, stopping for a while at the Tuileries to see people having picnics on the garden. At the Lourve, we took the metro to the Arc de Triomphe, where we climbed almost 300 steps up the spiral staircase to see the view. Felt my lungs almost burst. Yes...we need to exercise more.

The niece and I stopped at the cafe near home because she wanted a French cafe experience. Stopped for hot chocolate, fries and a grilled cheese sandwich before going home. Suet Fun came over not long after (6.30pm) for dinner -- halibut curry, stirfry mushroom and broccoli, squid in some stew and prawn omelette. By 8.30pm, you guess it, I passed out.

Back to Day 5, the present. Johnny Cash is crooning about a ring of fire and one of the squabbling sisters sitting on front of me is fast asleep. My legs are getting numb for there's ironically not enough leg room for my short legs. 30 mins more to reaching London's St Pancras station and from there, we have to find our way to Bayswater station, where Nora will be meeting us.

Nora is a former colleague at MediaCorp. She is now staying in London with her family for her husband has been posted here for work. Anyway, I have with me some Milo and instant teh tarik for her and she is bringing us to the Malaysian food hall for lunch. What follows after, maybe a hop-on, hop-off bus around London before catching the Eurostar at 6pm.

Okay. 

Back to reading.

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