Category: Diary

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Diary My Favorite

I Welcome My MIL With “Teary” Eyes And Other Encounters

Last Saturday I woke up with my right eye red.  I suspect that has something to do with the intense online gaming I had the night before, not entirely sure.  Cynthia and I woke up early on a Saturday morning because her mother was due to arrive in town.  At the airport, while Cynthia was waiting at the meeting point, I looked for a pharmacy to buy some eye drops.  If you were to ask me, eye drops should be sold in bulk.  How often do you wake up in the morning, look for a bottle of eye drops and find that duh, it has expired?  So I grabbed two bottles at the counter and made my way back to the meeting point.  I wish I could lie down and apply eye drops.  Instead, I bent my back backward, tilted my head as far as I could.  Right first, and then left.  It was more misses than hits.  By the time I was done with the exercise, my eyes were soaking wet and my face was in a total mess.  Cynthia was poking fun at me and we had a good laugh role-playing the scenario of long-time-no-see in the airport.  Cued to perfect timing, before I had a chance to clean my face up, my mother-in-law appeared from the gate.  Cynthia greeted her first with a big smile and a hearty hug.  I bettered Cynthia.  I greeted my mother-in-law with a big smile, a hearty hug, and on top of that, with my teary eyes and my tear stained face.  Now, that was embarrassing.

Yesterday’s Spanish homework was to write a joke.  My Spanish is so poor that it itself is a joke.  Nevertheless, it is often the effort that counts.  I used my Saturday story as the material for my Spanish homework.  Before I could reach the punch line, the entire class – our teacher included – laughed out loud.  I wish I was that funny.  Instead of “farmacia” – which means pharmacy – I said “francia”, which means France.  So in my Spanish version, while Cynthia was waiting at the meeting point, I went to France and bought some eye drops.  Consider all things, this farmacia-francia blunder is still not as bad as the guess-which-country exercise we did in class not too long ago.  Each of us was given the spotlight to describe the people of a nation in Spanish and ask the classmates to guess which country the people come from.  I wanted to pick a country whereby her people are not as warm as the Spanish people.  But instead of frío (means cold), I said feo.  “Feo?!” they screamed in disbelief.  “Feo,” I insisted.  To my surprise, no one could make a guess.  As soon as I recalled that “feo” means ugly, I wanted to bury my head deep into the toilet bowl.

One time, Cynthia brought me along for her girls-night-out.  I wanted to decline but since she has been joining my all-guys-events online and offline, it seemed only right that I participate in hers, or some of hers.  To be frank, that evening, I felt strange as the only guy on the table.  My presence had substantially stripped out the depth of what would-have-been a fruitful and detail analysis on men in general.  I wanted to chip in but I would feel bad turning my back on half of the population in this world today.  It is true.  Men, in general, are not that smart.  Our brains may not be in our heads all the time.  But we have a role to play in the propagation of our species.  One girl asked another, “Why did you break up with your boyfriend?”  Filter off all the frustration and confusion, all the emotion and debates, it appears to me that the breakup has something to do with the guy not bonding well with the girl’s family.  That is an inspiring piece of information.  Lucky for me, I love my mother-in-law as much as I love my own.  And I shall remember to bring along eye drops the next time I pick up my mother from the airport so no one could claim that I love my mother-in-law more than my own.

It must be hard to imagine that I am a man of few words, given the fact that I write thousands on a weekly basis.  Last Sunday, Cynthia has handed me a wonderful opportunity of being alone with her mother because of a social appointment of hers.  Well and good, I had this mental picture of having a relaxing Sunday lunch and the restaurant inside the bookstore Borders came to my mind.  I could read a book while my mother-in-law could browse the books as we waited for our food (note: it rhymes!)  The restaurant is still plagued by its signature slow service and if it was not my mother-in-law’s sharp eyes in spotting a 1-for-1 promotion, I would not have known that the restaurant has been rebranded to Robert Timms, an Australian themed restaurant.  Initially, I wanted to order a plate of salad and my mother-in-law, pumpkin lasagna.  Because of this 1-for-1 promotion, I can now pick a main course and my mother-in-law, prawn pasta.  Eat more with less!  I scanned through the menu items.  It read: Stout braised Kangaroo loin, braised crocodile casserole, along with names that I could not even pronounce.  Kangaroo and crocodile meat selling in Singapore? The last time I tried kangaroo meat was when we were in Melbourne.  That was not a pleasant experience.  Kangaroo meat does not taste like chicken (there is a myth that says all unknown meats taste like chicken).  It had no taste.  Cynthia described eating kangaroo meat as “eating shoes”.  I do not disagree.  My mother-in-law was in good spirit and she asked me to try crocodile meat.  If I was still going after her daughter, I would have showed some courage and ordered the braised crocodile casserole in a heartbeat.  Too bad, Cynthia said “I do” close to 12 years ago.  So I ordered half a spring chicken instead.  My mother-in-law was shocked that I could finish up half a chicken on my own.  In Indonesia, half a chicken can feed a family.  The spring chicken dish served at Robert Timms was somewhat cold.  I was not surprised.  Slow service, low food quality, some not too good things never change even when a restaurant changes its name.

My right eye is not that red anymore.  But I still game as hard in the evening.  Some good things never change either.

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Diary Reflection

On A Night Of Insomnia – A Little Diary

Every night, the moment my wife slips out of my embrace is the moment I am briefly woken up, if I am asleep by then.  That happens all the time because living beings do not stay still when sleeping.  Do they?  One time, I observed my dog back in Hong Kong.  I think he dreams.  He would snuggle into a heap of blankets mom and dad have put together, feeling all comfortable on his bed.  Another moment, he would sleepwalk to my dad’s bed, rest his body on the cold hard floor, and closed his eyes falling back to sleep.  Once in a while, he would wake up, walk to the front door, make some scratching sound, growl a bit (someone outside?), and then head back to his corner of the living room, sip some water before returning to his heap of blanket – just like I do.  Not the scratching and growling bit, but the drinking bit, and perhaps the peeing bit.

Cynthia often tells me that I do spring out of the bed at times, make some strange body motions, and speak some random words before heading back to bed.  I often deny such absurd behaviors of mine.  Like she often denies the fact that in extremely rare occasions especially after a long tiring day during our holiday, she is capable of  snoring, however light and gentle, barely inaudibly and certainly adorable her heavy breathing may seem.  Lucky for me, I have once recorded her dreamy symphony.  The next morning, I played the recording back to her.  And we had a good laugh.  She has yet to have caught me doing such weird stuffs on camera.  Hence, for now, such a claim is still a myth.

Fish do not stay still when sleeping.  When I was young, our family was used to have a huge water tank full of gold fish.  I cannot recall if fish sleep with their eyes closed.  I have this fascination with fish inside a fish tank.  Fish mating is one of the most beautiful things to see on earth.  I could stare at fish all day long.  I could trick my fish to kiss my fingers thinking that I was showering them with food.  And when I did shower them with food, some got so excited so much so that they would leap out of the water.  Heck.  My dad’s friend could trick my fish to surface and he would then exhale cigarette smoke onto the eagerly opened mouths of my gold fish.  Then inhaled his cigarette and let go a long slow stream of smoke into the sea of open fish mouths.  Rinse and repeat.  What does nicotine do to fish?  I do not want to know.  Cynthia does not have the same level of fascination.  People say that opposite attracts.  Since I am not a dog lover, I think that makes us even.

Turtles, on the other hand, sleep motionlessly, to my best knowledge.  So motionless that one of them died in my home because none of us remember to feed him with food and water, after his long hibernation.  We were used to keep birds too.  Birds are so active that I am unsure if they ever sleep.  I have seen them dosing off.  That was about it.  I could not tell if a caterpillar sleeps.  It either eats or stops eating.  When I was young, my dad would bring home some caterpillars found at the rooftop of the cinema he worked in.  He would then breed the butterflies using his Japanese doll glass container – a wedding gift of my parents (that Japanese doll to be precise).  It was magical to see a caterpillar turning into a butterfly.  My sister and I would hold the butterflies in our hands and we would release them from our seven-storey tall apartment.

Dogs, fish, turtles, birds, and caterpillars.  Some move during their sleep.  Some I do not know.

Last night, the moment my wife slipped out of my embrace was the moment I was woken up, quite permanently so, at least for that night.  I tried to go back to sleep but I could not.  The noise from the street seemed to have magically amplified, as the time entered deeper into the early morning.  Not a single moment of silence.   I thought of renovating my home with thick soundproof windows; I thought of renovating my home with new cabinets and a fresh layer of paint; I thought of the dust we have to deal with and I have to clean up; I thought of the what, when, how, and soon, it became more tiring trying to sleep.  I thought of moving to a new home that has complete serenity.  But where in Singapore do we have such serenity?  I got out of the bed, retreated to the living room, and now what?  I pictured myself inside a plane, like I was a week ago.  Now what?

I finished reading a book recommended by one of my blogger friends.  The book is about a Jew’s interpretation of the biblical story of Samson.  While as a Catholic, I do not disagree with the author on theological ground, I must say that his interpretation borders on being imaginative at best and far fetched at worst.  Maybe he is right, reading the scripture in his perspective.  Maybe the word ‘came’ in Hebrew does have a sexual connotation.  Hence when the angel came to Samson’s supposedly barren mother, his mother was in fact impregnated by a stranger.  Maybe the word ‘grind’ in Hebrew also has a sexual connotation. Hence when the blinded Samson was imprisoned, the locals offered their wives to him hoping that he could perform the miracle of getting them pregnant, treating Samson like a ‘stud bull’.  Maybe it is also true that when Samson was called to entertain the crowd in the temple, he was asked to perform sex acts.  Who am I to argue with a Jew who reads the bible in Hebrew?

After reading, I tried to sleep again.  But my mind was filled with a film staring Samson in a Eyes Wide Shut style, with my eyes wide opened.  To be honest, I spend more time reading the New Testament than the Old Testament.  To the Christians, Messiah has come.  Old Testament is there to foretell the coming of Christ and Christ is here to fulfill the scripture.  To the Jews, the Messiah has yet to come.  And our New Testament is not at all relevant.  Still, the Jewish author’s interpretation of the story of Samson has kept me awake.  I got out of the sofa, dragged my tired body to the bookshelf in another room, and dug out the Catholic Study Bible.  I read in depth the writing structure of the Old Testament and how the books were organized, the theological value of the Book of Judges (judges are heroes who were significant in the Israel history before the era of the kings), and in particular, the chapters on Samson.  I read the Bible slowly, and in greater detail, including the study notes.  Fortunately the story of Samson is not long . I sought peace in my faith and peace has fallen upon me by four in the morning.

Do you believe in spiritual food?  I felt so refreshed after meditating on the scripture.  One friend of mine once told me that he meditated one hour in the morning every day before going to work.  I used to think that such action would put any sane person to sleep, unless you are a saint.  Come to think of it, maybe spiritual refreshment for the soul works with the body too.  Not during wee hours, for sure. Perhaps during daybreak.

I still could not sleep so I pondered: What would I have done if I was on the plane?  I have got another book to finish.  But the topic is heavy.  It has something to do with psychology and how our brain works.  Cynthia would have switched on the in-flight entertainment.  I took out one of the Blu-ray discs that I have been wanted to watch.  It was a Cantonese movie, a two-hour show.  My reasoning was that I could get bored and tired watching a movie and however little the number of hours left before seven, I could at least catch some.  Besides, I have so many unwatched discs that are no longer funny.  Why do I keep buying when I am unable to consume them in time?

I was wrong.  The movie was engaging, heartwarming and wrenching at the same time.  The movie is called “Break Up Club”.  I bought it during my previous Hong Kong visit because Fiona Sit is staring in it.  It is extremely hard to find good and recent Cantonese movies in Singapore.  I miss my mother tongue immensely.  How the actors behave on screen, all the little quirky movements, the dramatic dialogs, and the facial expressions, they struck my inner core like no other languages do.  I laughed and cried with the actors.  I was more awake every passing minute.  Despite the fact that it is not a perfect film, it perfectly warmed my heart.  And it perfectly failed to put me to sleep.

By six, I retired to the bedroom, where Cynthia was fast asleep.  I might have caught half an hour of nap before the alarm clock rang.  Added to that half an hour of nap before my wife slipping out of my embrace, I had one hour of rest and a bunch of activities in between. Insomnia is a strange experience.  Some time during one to six, I felt as though my consciousness has left my body. Will I be rewarded with a solid eight hours of sleep tonight?  I will have to wait and see.

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Diary

Back From Spain!

¡Hola!  We are back from Spain.  Spain again, you say.  Haven’t we visited Spain like 2 years ago?  True.  But since we have been dipping in and out of the language for three years – the word ‘soaking’ would have been a vast exaggeration – touring Spain thus becomes one of our favorite choices.  Fortunately, there are lots to see in Spain.

“This is Cynthia and I with Gaudí in one of his houses!”

This year, we have visited one of the Canary islands so far off from the inland that could well be part of Africa.  But they are significant enough to be printed onto a 50€ bank note.  We have also visited the southern part of the country where the territories were lost to the Moors – Muslim from North Africa – and were re-conquered by the Spaniards.  Majestic Islamic influenced architecture monuments can still be seen in southern Spain today.  And since we flew directly from Singapore to Barcelona this time, we have spent some time to cover points of interest that we have missed in our last trip.  To my avid readers, after failing to visit the Picasso Museum in Barcelona twice (due to timing) and the Picasso Museum in Paris once (due to renovation), we have better luck this time.  On top of that, we have added 3 more UNESCO World Heritage Sites into our list.

To be totally honest, while I always look forward to a long holiday break, a fragment of me cringed at the physical demand of traveling in Europe.  The planning of itinerary and the logistics of the hotel and car rental booking, the rather long flight time (24 hours to reach Gran Canaria), lugging my rather heavy photography gears, and getting used to left hand manual driving through the narrow roads in the small towns and the mountain areas.  In no less than three counts, we nearly smashed our car onto the stationary cattle and a dashing deer at night.  Having said all of the above, every trip to Europe has always been a rewarding experience – both in the culture and nature departments.  I hope to share the journals and photos soon.  Preferably a faster turnaround time compare to our last trip to France.  Stay tuned.

A blog entry written on a SIA plane a couple of hours prior to landing in Singapore.

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Diary

Singapore National Youth Orchestra – A Musical Chemistry

We’ve missed the previous media invite on the LANXESS SYNO Classic event due to our Spanish commitment.  And they are kind enough to invite us for the main event that took place yesterday at Esplanade, an event coincided with the JP Morgen Corporate Run that caused half of a highway in town to be sealed off.  We were forewarned about the anticipated traffic condition so as the clock struck EOD (end of date) at work, Cynthia and I made haste to our Singapore’s very own theater by the bay.  I love the architectural design of Esplanade.  It cost – if I remember correctly – 650 million dollars to build.  I thought that was a lot of money.  Years later, the integrated resort next door cost billions to build.  That is Marina Bay Sands.

“A Musical Chemistry” is mainly performed by Singapore National Youth Orchestra (SNYO).  The program involves a short piece by Richard Wagner, which to be frank, I have not heard of before last evening.  A piece by Tchaikovsky – Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 25 – which I love to death.  I can easily hum the notes from beginning to end.  We have Lara St. John as the guest lead violinist.  Deep inside, I was hoping that someone from within SNYO would take the lead position.  That would truly speak for the quality of the orchestra.  But I can also understand that as a public event, having an international master such as Lara St. John would help to attract the crowd.  I am not too familiar with the violinist scene.  The only violinist I deeply respect is Hilary Hahn.  Lara St. John’s approach to Tchaikovsky’s concerto is unique, in a sense that she devours the music supplied by the orchestra and pours her personality into the music.  Her phasing and timing is significantly different from the traditional recordings that I am familiar with.  In a way, I did struggle a bit to see how this free spirit performance gelled with the structure provided by the orchestra.  One audience during intermission commented that she felt exhausted – in a good way I suppose – watching Lara St. John performed on stage.  In the contrary, I was totally absorbed into Lara’s own world and was yarning for more.  During the meet the artist session, I asked if it was her first visit to Singapore and she replied that this trip is her second.  Her first visit was to the Zoo.  And I said to her, you should come back to Singapore one day and perform for us.

Then there was the world premiere of a piece written by Darrell Ang, the musical director of SNYO.  It is called “Fanfare for a Frazzled Earth”.  Something to do with caring for environment.  It sounds modern (it has to be) and contemporary with lots of complex dialogs between the instruments.  I am a more classical kind of person and have always been struggling with understanding a modern piece of musc.  This piece sounds lively, almost like a celebration.  It is shorter than we have anticipated.  That left me wonder how beautiful it would have been if he could expand the piece into a full fledge symphony.  Last item of the program is Symphony in D minor by Cesar Franck.  A Dutch composer I have not heard of.  I may explore on his other works later.

Last evening was an emotional evening.  Because I was once played in Hong Kong Youth Orchestra.  I would say, the standard of SNYO is really high.  When I heard and saw the entire orchestra playing and moving in unison, that brought back fond memories.  During the intermission, Cynthia commented that such feeling must be exhilarating.  And I replied that in real life, the orchestra spends much time repeating short segments of the music, usually stripping down the individual or a subset of instruments.  To that extend, once an orchestra pastes all the parts together and plays, that feeling is exhilarating.  However, that short moment of spiritual joy only happens through months of practice, a few bars at a time.  That makes such moment more precious I suppose.

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Diary

Bethany And I, At Botanic Gardens

I can now begin to understand why some single men like to borrow babies in order to chat up with girls.  When I walk alone, no one stops and looks at me.  But when I carried my niece Bethany, inside the Botanic Gardens one fine Saturday, all the women around me smiled at – collectively speaking – us.  Bethany is a chick magnet, I discover.  She must have ignited the maternal instinct to all whose around us.  And I have not received that much attention since the last time I have paraded myself by the swimming pool, in my condo, wearing my swimming gear, under broad daylight.  All those domestic helpers, they really should find some real works to do.

One fine day, my sister messaged me and asked if we should bring Bethany to the Botanic Gardens, now that Bethany can walk.  Jolly good idea.  It would have been fun had we been able to catch some morning sun.  But alas, it was a Saturday.  And Saturdays are full of morning rituals such as housecleaning, such as I waking up early and do my blogging, such as Cynthia trying very hard to get out of bed.

I finished my lunch first and hence I was tasked to take Bethany out for a walk, while my sister, Benny, and Cynthia continued to have a good chat over their fish and chips.  I had no idea how a baby would react if she is momentarily taken away from her parent.  I thought Bethany would scream, but she did not.  Nevertheless, I briefly took her out, feeling totally awkward, and returned to the restaurant only to be sent out by the gang of three.  OK.  Perhaps I should plan a longer walking route.  I carried Bethany, under a hot sun, from one end of the cafe to the first patch of green land that took less than 2 minutes of brisk walking.  I found a nice piece of relatively shaded flat land and I put Bethany onto the ground.  After a few minutes, I ran out of things to do.  So I lifted Bethany up and headed back to the cafe.  I suppose I have yet to discover how to spend time with a toddler.  After we regrouped, I continued carrying Bethany and the four of us were running around in the garden playing catch-me-if-you-can with Bethany.  Eventually, she felt asleep on my shoulder while I was soaked in sweat.  I couldn’t even open my eyes.  That reminds me.  Next time, I should wear a sport headband and carry a fresh towel.

Benny took the photo below inside the cafe, zoomed in through the glass window.  He love this photo and so do I.  Benny observed that one time I put her onto the ground, she came right back to me with open arms.  So we reckon Bethany and I are bonding, somehow.  Bethany and I were quite far away from the cafe.  When I waved at the trios, Bethany followed my cue too.  Later on, my sister asked, “Was she able to recognize us inside the cafe?”  I am not too sure.  Maybe I shall ask her once she can speak.

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Diary

Touched By An Angel

Auntie Bernadette, we reckon, is around eighty years of age.  She is my Godmother Betty’s best friend and together, they have literally followed our Lord’s teaching: leave all that behind and trust that God provides.  You would have thought that in a country like Singapore, one must have a job and earn a living in order to survive.  Bernadette and Betty have no children, they devote their lives to serve the Lord, and in return, the Lord does provide.  It still amazes me every time I think about it.

This evening, after work, Cynthia and I have dropped by TTS Hospital.  We went through the emergency area and I saw nurses and staffs moving the still patients from wards to wards.  So much work going on in serving the community, in improving the quality of life.  Such contrast to my work environment, a banking environment specifically.  Today, I have also got some crisis at work.  People were running around frantically trying to get some presentation slides updated for an upcoming meeting.  Comparing the two, what I do for a living seems dull and meaningless.  If this world rewards people – monetarily speaking – based on the real contribution to our society, I would like to be an ambulance driver.  I love to drive fast and I love to save lives.  In my today’s job, I save people’s asses.  That does not seem to satisfy me fully.

Auntie Bernadette is hospitalized.  Hence we were at TTS Hospital.  Shortly after we found Bernadette, a priest has arrived.  We were surprised.  It was one of the Seven Catholic Sacraments: Anointing of the Sick.  In the past, it was used to be called Last Rites.  Today, it is part of the healing process.  It was the first time I see how this Sacrament is carried out.  Cynthia and I prayed along.  Throughout the session, I looked at Auntie Bernadette.  I was captivated by her eyes.  Such fire of faith and conviction, as she absorbed every word the priest said.  Those child-like expressions, such purity in heart.  Jesus once said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”  I was moved deeply, looking at Auntie Bernadette.  I was ashamed too, for my faith and the fire within does not even measure up to a tiny faction of what she exhibits.

According to Auntie Bernadette, it is God at work that she is hospitalized.  So that she has the opportunity to talk to the nurses, ease them off their daily stress and pray with them.  Even when she is sick, she is still doing God’s will.  After the priest has left, Auntie Bernadette held our hands and prayed for us.  I can tell you honestly that whatever that was in our thoughts, Bernadette spoke them out in words.  It was as though she was reading our minds.  The prayer was so powerful that Cynthia was moved to tears.  It was as close to divinity as I have seen lately.  Today I am touched by an Angel.  I think it is still not too late to repent.  In the spirit of Lent, I shall leave you with two simple passages that are relevant to this Easter season.

Remember that thou art dust, and to dust thou shalt return ~ Genesis 3:19

Turn away from sin and be faithful to the Gospel ~ Mark 1:15

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Diary Linguistic

Say What? It Is Level Pre-Advanced 1 at Las Lilas School?

Compare to my good Spanish classmate Monster, I am a lot more conservative.  When his colleagues asked him which level he is at after spending close to three years learning the language, he humbly replied, “Intermediate”.  After all these years you are still at intermediate? they would ask.  And he would reply, “Yes, intermediate”.  To be frank, I have no idea how many levels there are, what the next level is going to be.  I feel as though I am still at the elementary level.  Because I am still feeling so very inadequate.

The good news is that Cynthia and I have passed our exam.  My score is not that great, which means I have to study harder.  I treasure wake up calls like this.  We humans are the lazy bunch.  We need a kick every now and then to get us back on track.

Pre-Advanced 1 started with a new teacher Amelia.  Our previous teacher Alejandra is taking a short break and has returned to Spain to deliver a baby.  I think it has something to do with the Spanish culture.  All our teachers so far at Las Lilas School are lively and warm, cheerful and fun loving.  In today’s class, I have put in extra effort trying not to look like a retard (especially when Cynthia was stuck at her week long project management exam preparation course and could not be there to help me answering all the questions).  Otherwise, Amelia would be wondering what Alejandra has been teaching us all these while.

Going up one level has certainly come with added challenges.  Today’s class’s theme was fitness, or vida sana.  No more simple, overused verbs that we have been relying on for close to three years.  We now have to form sentences with more formal verbs.  Such as fruits and vegetables provides vitamins (comer frutas y verduras proporciona vitaminas), enough sleep rests the body (dormir suficientes horas descansa el cuerpo), and drinking too much alcohol damages the liver (beber mucho alchol dañar el hígado).

What else have we learned today?  Grammar, of course.  I was not even shocked by yet another new tense to conjugate, with all its irregularity glory.  It is affirmative imperative (imperativo afirmativo) and negative imperative (imperativo negativo), which is intimately linked to subjunctive (subjuntivo).  In fact, negative imperative takes the form of subjunctive while there are two exceptions for affirmative imperative.  I am still struggling with subjunctive (and the rest of other tenses to be honest).  How in the world do Spanish and Latino people manage to use grammar of such diversity?  Whatever secret they have, I admire their ability to express things around them in such colorful variety.

Some asked: What do you get out of learning Spanish in Singapore?  Unfortunately, I do not have an inspirational answer to that question.  Learning a language works my brain muscle, which I like.  It is a common hobby for Cynthia and I.  Developing a common hobby of any type is good for a couple, mostly.  And I still believe that learning any skill opens up opportunities in the future.

On a more practical note, last night we had non-stop thunderclaps for one good hour followed by heavy rain.  Immediately, I associated the event to one of Prince’s classic “Thunder”.  This morning, I have transfered three of Prince’s albums onto my wireless phone and listened to them in our car.  When the first song from “The Gold Experience” was played, I instantly recognized that the narrator was speaking in Spanish.  It was a pleasant surprise.  Not that I fully understood what “Nuestra presentacion especial comenzara en breve.  Pero antes un mensaje de nuestros auspiciadores” meant.  At least the narration was not that foreign to me, compares to the first time I heard the album in 1995.

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Diary

One Crazy Week

I listened to the acoustic recording of the quake captured from the deep ocean with goose bumps all over my body.  I suppose I could imagine the terror induced had I come face to face with such force of nature.  The 2011 Japanese earthquake had lasted for 2 minutes.  That has triggered a series of aftershocks, a tsunami, a potential nuclear meltdown, and an impact to the global economy.  For the past one week, I have been glued to the news from the Internet feeling deeply saddened.  That puzzled me a bit because I do not usually feel that attached to the disasters worldwide.  Maybe deep inside, I admire the Japanese people and culture more than I think I do.

This week has been a crazy week.  My mother in Hong Kong was hospitalized for a minor operation and how I wish I was there with her.  One colleague of mine’s grandfather has passed away and I said to her, “Go home and spend time with your family.  Don’t worry about that minute of meeting”.  I suppose falling back into routines helps one to return to normalcy.  And normalcy helps one to momentarily forget the pain.  I did not have the heart to grant her that wish.  There were two major deliverables this week and in the mist of all these chaos, one of my colleagues has lost his sanity – figuratively speaking – because he thinks that he will be asked to leave the company soon.  So I said to him, “Keep your head down and continue to be productive”.  I suppose different people handles stress in a different way.  Constantly having to deal with his momentary lapse of sanity seems to have worn me out a bit.  And hence, summing all up, it has been a shockingly depressing and incredibly busy week.

I have a different approach when it comes to work, compares to some of the colleagues around me.  I believe that knowledge and experience should be shared.  Because together, we can do so much more.  Don’t you worry that one day your job will be taken away from you, some have asked in the past.  I would be in deep trouble if my job is hanging onto what I know today.  In contrary, I would be happy if more and more people can do what I am doing.  That way, I can move onto other things in life and create new knowledge, create new experience.  I think there is enough food to share around (again, figuratively).  Even when the time is bad, deep inside, we are hunters.  We will be able to find something else to eat, somewhere, somehow.

Last Sunday I took Cynthia to the IT Show.  I would imagine that must have been a terrifying experience for her.  The gigantic exhibition hall was filled with people.  Mostly men talking in some geek languages, ogling at products that meant nothing to her.  I am a seasoned IT Show visitor.  IT Show is not a time and place for shopping.  When I visit an IT Show, I know exactly what I want to get.  At the exhibition, I checked where the Creative’s booth was located and under my supreme leadership, we zoomed straight into the location that mattered: Creative’s cashier.  I took a look at the pamphlet.  Yes, the World of Warcraft headset was on sales.  Big discount.  So I ordered three headsets there and then.  The man who manned the cashier was surprised at my efficiency and determination.  I went in as fast as I went out.  Cynthia was shocked.

Today is unlike the previous days, my working day has ended with a sunny blue sky.  Finger crossed, I am hoping for a better week next week.  My world and the world I am living in.

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Diary

I’ve Survived The Tuesday!

Some of you may wonder what I have been up to these days.  There are little updates here.  Yes, I have an excuse.  A good one.  My new hosting company wrote to me a week ago and recommended me not to update this website until they have completed the hardware upgrade exercise.  One week of not writing online is a long time.  So I publish my entries sparsely, still waiting for them to inform me that work has been completed and I can go back to my usual blogging rhythm.  No such luck as yet.

But like I said, that is an excuse.  Lately, my life has been gravitated into this invisible whirlpool called March the Eight.  That is today.  I have always been nervous about Spanish examination.  Because I am linguistically handicap.  One week is hardly enough to revise what I have learned in 20 lessons, which in retrospect, I should have studied incrementally over the duration of the two courses.  The luring of online gaming seems too strong for my not so strong mind.  The more I study, I more I realize what I do not know.  The more Spanish words I squeeze into my brain, even more seems to have vanished from within.  Some scientists say that we have tons of untapped brain power inside our heads.  God has granted us an equipment good enough to function as apes in the past, as human today, and as alien life force in the future.  I don’t know.  I am not feeling it.  Especially not this evening, when I took the Spanish examination.

This afternoon, our boss wanted to meet us in the office in town urgently.  It had something do with our performance review, new salary, and bonus reward.  I was nervous, of course.  When a new management team takes over, old timers like I are often targets for pruning.  Since day one of joining this organization – or any organization for that matter – it has been like one survival game after another.  On the 21st floor, designated for casual meeting, with a fantastic view overlooking the Singapore river and the new integrated resort, an event took place.  It was an event organized by the women, for the women.  Apparently, we have invited the first Singaporean women team who climbed the Mount Everest as key speakers for the event, to share their experience.  The entire floor was filled with women.  I could not help but to feel a bit out of place while waiting for our boss to summon us.

Singapore’s birth rate has been heading south lately, and rapidly.  Every day there are news on why it is so, what we could do.  One friend joked that if we take the iPhone away from the Singaporean women, perhaps more babies would be made?  In one newspaper forum, there was a discussion on what if one man can take more than one wives.  More sex, for sure.  More babies, I do not know.  The other day, on radio, the DJs have posted this question on air: Do you find Singapore girls attractive?  If not, why not? I think the DJs wanted to know why people here are not getting married.  I find it hilarious.  Because we always get to like what we have (quoting Doris Lessing).  There is little to do with the quality of Singaporean women, or men.  The simple reality is that some do not want to live together, have sex, may have babies, and grow old with someone else.  It appears that the singles do not mind to perhaps die alone, and die lonely.  Or maybe, the future seems too far away.  According to one international survey targeted to only women, Singapore is their first choice for relocation.  I am not sure what our government can do with this piece of information.  More women certainly means the possibility of more babies.  Our country is on survival mode.  That much I can see.

I too am on survival mode at work.  Fortunately, being average has gained me another year of work.  I hope how I did at the Spanish class today is sufficient to take me to another level of learning Spanish.  I don’t know what we can with Singapore’s dwindling birth rate.  Perhaps take the iPhone away from the men?

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Diary

Weeding At Pulau Ubin

When I told my friends that I was going to do weeding at Pulau Ubin, those who have been playing World of Warcraft with me would say: Herbing?  Yes, one of my favorite past time in that online world is to pluck flowers.  And I thought, weeding is like part of what gardeners do.  It is like how I helped my aunt in Paris to maintain her garden during my summer school holiday.  OK.  I was wrong.  The scale of weeding at Pulau Ubin has way exceeded my expectation.

Pulau Ubin is an island off the northeastern corner of Singapore mainland.  It reminds me of our recent trip to Lamma Island in Hong Kong.  Except, Pulau Ubin seems much smaller, less developed.  According to the guides from National Park, there are no more than 50 families living in the island.  Today was the first time I landed on Pulau Ubin, thanks to a corporate volunteer initiative I have signed up for.  I was so looking forward to this trip that even though I was down with a flu yesterday, I willed myself to get out of the bed this morning.  Surprisingly, I felt OK.  Mind over matter no doubt.

The jetty that transported us from the mainland to Pulau Ubin took 12 of us at a time.  The van that transported us from the meeting point to the reforestation zone took 10 of us at a time.  We have chartered four vans.  So, we must have about forty, eager to do some serious weeding.  Before we started, the guides shared with us why the removal of evasive plants is needed (they tend to take up a lot more nutrient and grow a lot faster).  And what would happen to the weeds (recycled in the form of wood chips and used as fertilizer).

We were told that some plants are weeds and some are not.  To be frank, in the beginning, most of us were confused, unable to tell the difference.  We hesitated.  And we pulled the wrong plants.  As our confidence grew, we aimed higher and higher.  Below is a photo taken using my phone titled, “A Pile of Weed”.

Most of the weeds took five to seven men and women to yank them off the ground with our gloved bare hands.  Some are trees as tall as one story high.  We had 2 hours of solid weeding, which could become strenuous.  Imagine yanking a tree out every other few minutes, under a hot sun.  Towards the end of the activity, looking at how enthusiastic we were in pulling out trees one after another, the guides from National Park hinted to us that we should wrap up.  Because next week, there will be another group from one of the polytechnics here to do weeding.  We have to leave them some, I suppose?

Before we left, I looked around the area.  I was amazed at how much weed we have removed.  I wish I had taken a before and after image for comparison.

P.S. The Chinese translation of the island’s name seems to mean “Island of Sensitive Birds”.  But I must confess that I have not seen a single bird flying above us.  Also, we were reminded to be extra careful when entering into bushes.  Because there may be sleepy snakes inside.  Fortunately, we have not seen one neither.