makaned so much these past 4 days that my growing girth is nearly all I care about since Thursday!
makaned the best char siew in the world in KL, stir-fried pork belly with salted fish, steamed fish, steamed herbal duck, nasi lemak...
Cafes and cheem talk
Cafes always get to me, in a good way. I once again find myself in a Starbucks, this time in Kuala Lumpur (KL). Finally some time alone with just me, latte, my lappie and Christmas carols in the background. I am on the last evening of my 4-day family trip in KL. I guess KL will always hold fond memories, having been the place where poignant family memories (often coalescing around makan) have been made since I was a little boy. Yet, I guess its a different kind of nostalgia as to the one I will hold for all the places I've been blessed to visit in Europe and New York. As we all grow older, we gather enough worldly experiences to actually need to start compartmentalising the nostalgic "last-times".
Having seen a teeny bit more of the world in the past 2 years makes even home seem different; ang mohs in Singapore still feel queer, yet I feel as if I "know" them abit better than, say, 2 years back. Yet, home where I grew up, will always be home. The comfort of knowing the roads at the back of your hand, the hawker lady who saw me since I was a year old in Ang Mo Kio...All of it makes me so comfortable that I've stopped thinking in the past week; I've been "reacting" to situations than "responding". Without asking deeper questions, I just reacts to situations as instinct dictates, like an animal. That is what I fear about returning permanently back to Singapore: coming back into my comfort zone puts me off my guard, sedates my heightened sense of awareness, brushing aside difficult questions that I should continually ask. Don't you have that fear sometimes? Daddy warned me today that it is human nature to stop pushing our own limits once we get too comfortable where we are. Some might say all this talk might be silly. Why should anyone complain about being comfortable, being contented? Perhaps I derive contentment differently.
Perhaps I know that once I get too comfortable, I allow myself to fall into habit, and often bad ones. I turn into a sloth. So I cannot stop pushing and testing my limits, I cannot stop questioning my life, reflecting on the path I've walked thus far, or where I'm going. I'm one of those if you put in a rocking chair with no stimulus to get up, will grow into the chair. So I need to always remind myself not to just "being" but always "living". No need for constant fireworks of elation and joy, just quiet contentment. I want to always sit in my chair of quiet contentment. Don't we all? Don't you?
Shopping, 5-storey jump and cheem talk
We have been shopping the past few days, and eating. That's what the Foo Family does each time we come to KL or Bangkok. If not for the political uncertainty in the latter, the magnitude of the shopping and eating would have doubled. The Foo Family have often taken such short trips all these years; spending little to get to our holiday destination, seeing little of the place, but spending loads on makan and shopping. And nope, we hardly buy the branded stuff, or eat at Michelin restaurants. We just eat loads of local food and get the thrill of finding good bargains. But most importantly, its a time when we try to put aside everything else and just be. Be a happy family; that being a tall order these days. With mounting social expectations, advancements in communications, it is becoming more difficult to have a healthy family that communicates?
But it has been a nice 3 days out here. Finally get to spend time with my little-girl-no-more sis, making "old man" jokes about Daddy and having buffet breakfast with Mummy. I also plucked up the courage to accompany Mummy on the ride in the amusement park, which was totally not amusing. If there was anything amusing, it would be my facial expressions and my screams as I got brought to a height of 5 storeys (lovely view of Genting though) and dropped and bounced up and down a few times. So it has been all good, and we are back to Singapore tomorrow.
Yet, amidst all this mundane joy, there were other bigger thoughts I'm to take away and think about. Daddy essentially told me over wanton mee what to keep a lookout for in my career, to never get too comfortable and forget to plan ahead, how blessed I am to have a job at this economic low. Stay hungry, stay foolish. Mummy reminding me its about attitude and being sincere when meeting people, at work or at play. I like to dream, heads in the clouds. I choose to think I have dreams, which people along the way have deemed dreamy. But as I dream, dream big, I always have my two feet firmly on the ground. And just being under Daddy's constant reminders, my feet have only gotten bigger. And I've been reminded once more that they must only get bigger.
Hiding behind verse?
I rarely write in prose about romance and love, often hiding behind verse and cryptic, artsy-fartsy, fancy-pansy lines. I was, and have, thinking about them on this trip. In prose; nothing fancy, just simple prose. Perhaps triggered by the amount of Grey's Anatomy I've been watching of late. What do I want? Who do I want? Who wants me? Do I have got to figure all this out like filling out an application form? Or do I just wait and the right lady will fall into my lap and I will know it?
Or do I really have to try a dating agency? Perhaps a monastery?
Uncle T
13 Dec 2008
From minority to majority. 7:28 pm
This was a blog entry I wanted to post a few days back :)
makaned BBQ sting ray, hokkien mee, mega-size sugar cane juice...
I awoke from my jet-lagged rest thinking how it will actually be like when I return home permanently in August. The prospect is drawing close, and its scary.
I went out to buy lunch today from my neighbourhood coffeeshop. I ordered pork ribs with rice. Whilst waiting for it, I went to the local grocer to buy some juice, but I got more than that; the lady working behind the counter started to bitch about her mundane life, how eating the same lunch for the past 4 years was miserable. I quietly sneaked out by hiding behind the display shelves.
After a quiet afternoon at home, I took a Singapore bus-ride for the first time since returning. It was a familiar experience, one that brought a quiet smile to my face. From waiting for the bus at an ants-infested bus-stop, to boarding the bus as the cool air-conditioned air contrasts the humid, sticky wait at the bus-stop. The warm afternoon sun making it conducive for an afternoon nap in the cool bus, punctuated by the familiar buzz the bus bell. Finally, I arrived at City Hall.
As I walked around town, again too many things felt so familiar it felt like I was just here last week. Yet, there was something different. After seeing much more of the world, even home seems a little different, somehow.
I still cannot fully figure it out, being home but feeling like a stranger at the same time. Perhaps I'm not meant to figure it out, and that it just is this way. Even seeing Caucasians in town made me just sit up, for no reason.
Perhaps it is becoming the majority once more after being a minority for so long.
Uncle T
makaned BBQ sting ray, hokkien mee, mega-size sugar cane juice...
I awoke from my jet-lagged rest thinking how it will actually be like when I return home permanently in August. The prospect is drawing close, and its scary.
I went out to buy lunch today from my neighbourhood coffeeshop. I ordered pork ribs with rice. Whilst waiting for it, I went to the local grocer to buy some juice, but I got more than that; the lady working behind the counter started to bitch about her mundane life, how eating the same lunch for the past 4 years was miserable. I quietly sneaked out by hiding behind the display shelves.
shots from the bus stop at home.
After a quiet afternoon at home, I took a Singapore bus-ride for the first time since returning. It was a familiar experience, one that brought a quiet smile to my face. From waiting for the bus at an ants-infested bus-stop, to boarding the bus as the cool air-conditioned air contrasts the humid, sticky wait at the bus-stop. The warm afternoon sun making it conducive for an afternoon nap in the cool bus, punctuated by the familiar buzz the bus bell. Finally, I arrived at City Hall.
As I walked around town, again too many things felt so familiar it felt like I was just here last week. Yet, there was something different. After seeing much more of the world, even home seems a little different, somehow.
I still cannot fully figure it out, being home but feeling like a stranger at the same time. Perhaps I'm not meant to figure it out, and that it just is this way. Even seeing Caucasians in town made me just sit up, for no reason.
Perhaps it is becoming the majority once more after being a minority for so long.
Uncle T
10 Dec 2008
Either ? or ?. 12:05 pm
Will I be writing
Verses of happiness or
Sadness? We will never
Know for sure, would we?
Am I coming or
Going? Leaving or
Staying? We will never
Know for sure, would we?
Perhaps sometimes I do
Wish Fate will deal a heavy
Blow to help me decide. But shall
I wait for it or make it
Happen myself?
I don't know.
Uncle T
Verses of happiness or
Sadness? We will never
Know for sure, would we?
Am I coming or
Going? Leaving or
Staying? We will never
Know for sure, would we?
Perhaps sometimes I do
Wish Fate will deal a heavy
Blow to help me decide. But shall
I wait for it or make it
Happen myself?
I don't know.
Uncle T
9 Dec 2008
Jet-lagging or just-lagging 6:05 am
makaned black-sauced duck wing and utas and expensive singapore restaurant food. walao...not used to 7% GST!
It is 5am in the morning, Singapore time. I am awake. The darkness seems so bright. Jet-lagged. Funny, but both my parents are also awake; saying they cannot sleep due to the jet-lag I "infected" them with. Despite this frustrating predicament (I want to wake up early tomorrow!), I smile, somehow.
It is Day 2 since I got back home. I wouldn't say it has been a world-wind elation-bubble experience, neither would I call it dull. Perhaps life's experiences need not always be extreme ones; often just rather simple contented ones. Perhaps always expecting it to always come with fireworks is pushing it.
But what it has been has been, for the lack of a better word, gladly weird (right, that was 2 words).
Glad because of the familiarity of driving familiar roads, doing familiar in familiar places, familiar faces saying familiar things, familiar friends making familiar jokes (about me!), familiar emotions with familiar people; Daddy dragging me out of bed early for early breakfast, mummy nagging me to drink my orange juice (which I funnily, appreciate, both the juice and the nagging), my kid cousin being coy with me, the view from my balcony being still the same, the nagging sweat dripping down my sweat by just standing in the Singapore weather, the familiar pleasure of driving...
But despite all the gladness for familiarity, there is something different, and therefore weird. Familiar things with a possibly different story; I actually have been absent from lives here for 1.5 years, I've gained weight (-.-), I've different stories to tell from Warwick, I've been to New York since the last time I was back, I'll be graduating in 6 months, friends' lives have moved on, grandparents have aged, Orchard looks slightly different, things are helluva more expensive...
I possibly could whip up some complex cheem philosophical exposition on this dichotomous glad weirdness, but I'll leave it for later (if the inspiration ever comes). But for now, just 2 days into homecoming, there has been fireworks but simply the human experience of coming home after a long time.
Uncle T
It is 5am in the morning, Singapore time. I am awake. The darkness seems so bright. Jet-lagged. Funny, but both my parents are also awake; saying they cannot sleep due to the jet-lag I "infected" them with. Despite this frustrating predicament (I want to wake up early tomorrow!), I smile, somehow.
It is Day 2 since I got back home. I wouldn't say it has been a world-wind elation-bubble experience, neither would I call it dull. Perhaps life's experiences need not always be extreme ones; often just rather simple contented ones. Perhaps always expecting it to always come with fireworks is pushing it.
But what it has been has been, for the lack of a better word, gladly weird (right, that was 2 words).
Glad because of the familiarity of driving familiar roads, doing familiar in familiar places, familiar faces saying familiar things, familiar friends making familiar jokes (about me!), familiar emotions with familiar people; Daddy dragging me out of bed early for early breakfast, mummy nagging me to drink my orange juice (which I funnily, appreciate, both the juice and the nagging), my kid cousin being coy with me, the view from my balcony being still the same, the nagging sweat dripping down my sweat by just standing in the Singapore weather, the familiar pleasure of driving...
But despite all the gladness for familiarity, there is something different, and therefore weird. Familiar things with a possibly different story; I actually have been absent from lives here for 1.5 years, I've gained weight (-.-), I've different stories to tell from Warwick, I've been to New York since the last time I was back, I'll be graduating in 6 months, friends' lives have moved on, grandparents have aged, Orchard looks slightly different, things are helluva more expensive...
I possibly could whip up some complex cheem philosophical exposition on this dichotomous glad weirdness, but I'll leave it for later (if the inspiration ever comes). But for now, just 2 days into homecoming, there has been fireworks but simply the human experience of coming home after a long time.
Uncle T
7 Dec 2008
home. :) 11:15 am
the worries might still be there, the excitement might burst its seems.
But for now, all I know is I'm home. Finally. Amen.
Uncle T
But for now, all I know is I'm home. Finally. Amen.
Uncle T
Dubai Goodbye 11:13 am
wanna makan my mee pok!
I have never paid so much attention to an airport before. For that matter, perhaps never any other building.
That is possibly because I have never spent 10 hours straight in a single building, and where every moment of it being awake, taking in details one might possibly miss otherwise. I am in transit in Dubai international airport. For 10 hours. I have endured 8 of it, and it is now 8am in the morning. You go figure what I did in the past few hours other than memorise the floorplan of the 24-hour shopping arcade within the departure area. I even know where the power points are to recharge the laptops.
But as with solitude and boredom, one's senses get extremely heightened, and this was no exception. The first thing that hit me when I arrived from Birmingham was Dubai did live up to its reputation of wowing its visitors with the scale of nearly everything it does. A 3-storey waterfall loomed as I stepped into the ultra-modern arrival hall. Before I could fully take in the water-wall, I heard a very familiar accent. It was the Filipino accent! I would never miss it, my aunt being Filipino. Soon, this accent was coming not just from one direction, but all around; so many of the ground staff, if not all I encountered were Filipinos. All the staff, Filipino or otherwise (there were sizable number of Indians as well), were really really polite and courteous.
That continued as I took a bite at what has to be the best-service Burger King I have ever visited; the counter staff, a Filipino, was smiling as if this were for a TV commercial, "Hi sir, what would you like to have?". Service was prompt, efficient and without fuss. Amazing. I later spoke to some airport staff and heard that indeed a a huge Filipino population did staff the airport, some with over a decade of experience in the airport. Shops here also accept not only the local currency, but the American dollar and surprise surprise, the deflating British pound.
Oh well, I will leave the rest of the shopping details for you to find out when you do transit in Dubai. I didn't do much else but file a complain about my broken inflight entertainment system on my flight from Birmingham; 6 hours of staring at a screen that goes from black to black, and watching others around me giggle or cry at their screens.
What must a boy do to get home to his family? Well, apparently it seems, in my case, a 10 hour transit in Dubai airport and a broken inflight entertainment system. Well, that's the way the money tumbles!
Uncle T
I have never paid so much attention to an airport before. For that matter, perhaps never any other building.
That is possibly because I have never spent 10 hours straight in a single building, and where every moment of it being awake, taking in details one might possibly miss otherwise. I am in transit in Dubai international airport. For 10 hours. I have endured 8 of it, and it is now 8am in the morning. You go figure what I did in the past few hours other than memorise the floorplan of the 24-hour shopping arcade within the departure area. I even know where the power points are to recharge the laptops.
But as with solitude and boredom, one's senses get extremely heightened, and this was no exception. The first thing that hit me when I arrived from Birmingham was Dubai did live up to its reputation of wowing its visitors with the scale of nearly everything it does. A 3-storey waterfall loomed as I stepped into the ultra-modern arrival hall. Before I could fully take in the water-wall, I heard a very familiar accent. It was the Filipino accent! I would never miss it, my aunt being Filipino. Soon, this accent was coming not just from one direction, but all around; so many of the ground staff, if not all I encountered were Filipinos. All the staff, Filipino or otherwise (there were sizable number of Indians as well), were really really polite and courteous.
That continued as I took a bite at what has to be the best-service Burger King I have ever visited; the counter staff, a Filipino, was smiling as if this were for a TV commercial, "Hi sir, what would you like to have?". Service was prompt, efficient and without fuss. Amazing. I later spoke to some airport staff and heard that indeed a a huge Filipino population did staff the airport, some with over a decade of experience in the airport. Shops here also accept not only the local currency, but the American dollar and surprise surprise, the deflating British pound.
Oh well, I will leave the rest of the shopping details for you to find out when you do transit in Dubai. I didn't do much else but file a complain about my broken inflight entertainment system on my flight from Birmingham; 6 hours of staring at a screen that goes from black to black, and watching others around me giggle or cry at their screens.
What must a boy do to get home to his family? Well, apparently it seems, in my case, a 10 hour transit in Dubai airport and a broken inflight entertainment system. Well, that's the way the money tumbles!
Uncle T