I might write about the trip sometime later. For now, i shall let the photos do the talking. I took many pictures on my powershot S2, which is the bulkiest camera that was brought for the trip. Actually, my camera is unfailingly the biggest compared to others', not matter which group of friends i'm with or the occasion. No one (unless he's a professional photographer) really would want to lug such a big (non-SLR) camera around for social gatherings, much less a cycling trip. It's just inconvenient and undesirable. Because it is so conspicuously and unenviously big, people always wonder why i bought it in the first place. It makes me look pro, but pro i am not. I tell others the 12x zoom is a draw, and in return they would ask me, 'Whatever for do you need the 12x zoom? To look into your neighbours' homes, right?'

Most of the group photos were taken using my camera, not because i have the best camera around, but because i was, as always, the most thick-skinned one who would unashamedly go round asking people to pose for photos and bothering passers-by to be our photographer. I've already received Chin's and K's photographs, and i'm waiting to collect from the rest their photos, so that i can compile everything, including a couple of video clips, together and distribute copies to everyone.

No buildings in sight. It was lovely - just us on the road, trees by the roadside, and a cloudy blue sky above. Taken on K's camera.

Riding past a school building, i think. The luscious space and the wide open roads were reassuring and inviting. Chin often cycled far ahead and stopped by the side to take photos of us cycling past, as he did for this one.

A panoramic view of the landscape we often ride past. Courtesy of Chin.

The roadies' bikes leaning against a tree by the eatery that we stopped at for lunch. I think, it was Eug and Ken who prompted me: 'You should take a photo of the bikes. Very nice.'

I only knew this was taken when i looked through K's photographs for the trip. It was during our recce. i believe we stopped here to ascertain our rest-point for the ride. The road runs alongside the coast for this stretch.

No ride is complete without makan. When the drinks came, i was like, 'So, this is lime juice. Luckily i didn't order it.' But the laksa was good. I ate all the (black) cockles in my laksa, while most of the others gave theirs to Daniel, who was only too happy to accept them.

2nd day morning, around 7a.m. This is the east coast so we get the view of sunrise. Chin and a few others stopped their breakfast and ran out to the beach to snap photos when they saw the sun rising from the horizon. This is his. I didn't bring mine to breakfast, unfortunately. If not i can show them the power of 12x zoom!

I ran

I shouldn't be surprised to find a new running route in my neighbourhood today, for it's very rarely that i go for a jog. In fact, it's quite an achievement for me to go running twice in the span of three days. Not because the guilt and envy of seeing joggers so often when i'm outside finally prompted me into action - no, it's something more practical, inevitable, dreadful even: It's the IPPT that i would need to clear in the next two weeks. Sian.

Nevertheless, i quite enjoyed the run this evening. At the very least, or so i imagined, my fitness has not dropped to the level which the army would frown upon. I wasn't panting breathlessly, nor did i find myself wanting to slow down or stop altogether during the run. The brilliant evening was highly conducive for jogging, and because it was an industrial - and deserted - area i was running through, plus the fact that it was quite late, i was the only jogger around.

I was running on a track next to a canal, and i continued running as long as the path ahead of me doesn't end. It didn't bother me how far and where the running track would take me to; i just kept going, savouring the quietude of the surroundings (there were few people but plenty of trees; and the sky's gradually turning darker) which i've never before come across, and enjoying the experience of running on a completely new route, knowing that the next time i run the feeling will be no more.

It's always like this: once you become familiar with a route and the surronding features, there is a somewhat inevitable reduction in the sense of pleasure you get from running the second, third time and so on. The activity simply becomes repetitive. I am not one who is motivated to run for the sake of running alone; i need some form of motivation, and the sights and sounds that greet me while running, allow me to actually enjoy the run, which otherwise would be just a boring exercise. Ironically, to enjoy running one would have to do it often enough, because this would improve one's cardiovascular endurance, making the run 'easier' and less tiring. But, as with many things, making that first step and keeping the momentum thereafter proves to be the hardest. It's not surprising athletes are individuals who exercise tremendous self-discipline.

That's why yours truly isn't an athlete, and will never ever become one. heh.

serenity on the road

The lovely blue sky, the sparse, fluffy white clouds, the rustic charm evoked by the kilometres of greenery that roll past, almost effortlessly and imperceptibly, that it seems as if one is moving through a changing scenery in constant motion.

Cycling on the straight, narrow road leading to the main road, there is a serene feel to the tranquil atmosphere. The sun's rising fast to its mid-day position; the road is, for the most time, empty, flanked by closed vegetation and trees throughout the stretch; and from far, it seems as if the flat road continues forever. It's a comforting prospect.

Hands on the handlebar, i turn and look at the passing scenery on both sides, careful to enjoy the moment, as though once past it would elude me forever, dusted down into oblivion.

When we cycle past kids who live in kampung houses just along the roadside, they giggle and laugh heartily, waving eager hands at us, shouting excitedly to cheer us. These are no urban areas; often it's just a stretch of civilisation that spreads intermittently on either side of the road, with no modern-looking buildings or amenities in sight. The people must be living a simple life, and the kids most certainly live a different kind of childhood from ours: Theirs is a carefree and simple lifestyle, not without its fair share of problems, but untainted by competitive, stressful education.

Except for a small stretch where we cycled through relatively light rain, we were lucky not to be caught in any downpours while on the road. The roads are in good condition, the landscape scenic, the company a good bunch of people who share the same passion and who have a good many jokes to share. One really can't ask for more. One only hopes that this can be done more often, with the company of these great fellas who know what exactly it feels like to be riding a bike on the road, past scenery that is rare (at least in Singapore) but immensely delightful.

i like the night better

Well, my cycling deficit from yesterday was made up for tonight. It was the usual meeting place, same route but slightly shorter distance. The other constant is i'm still the only non-roadie. K says his favourite part of the journey is neo tiew road. At night there's practically no cars passing through. The street lamps, paced at equal distance from each other, cast a low, dim glow without which we would be enveloped by darkness. Sometimes one or two lamps are not working and we literally cycled blindly through a dark stretch, albeit momentarily. Being the unimaginative (and/or boring) person I am, the only thought that went through my mind is: how's the authorities going to know about the malfunctioning lamp-posts, and who's going to rectify the problem? We are Singapore all right, number 1 in everything, surely we can't allow such a defect to prolong or even exist!

K says he enjoys cycling at night: the air is chilly, cool; a very soothing and plesant feeling. He likes cycling across the Kranji dam, where Johore can be seen just across the sea. 'Very surrealistic,' says K with a wry smile. It's as if one is at the edge of our tiny island; cycling on home ground, the view of Johore passes by in mere seconds. Our neighbour's really not very far from us - it's, well, separated and linked to us by a causeway that is burdened with the history of disputes between the two neighbours.

It's a downslope when we come to the end of neo tiew road at the junction that links with lim chu kang road. On the left side of the road, there's a structure, a sort of temporary building that holds the living quarters of a sizable number of foreign workers. It's most probably overcrowded; a cursory glance from the road tells one that the living conditions are likely to be unpleasant, sordid even. The contents of their quarters, their clothes and belongings, are bursting out from the interior. The latrines, which appear to be sited just next to where they stay, are repungant; almost instantly one is greeted by the stench when cycling past the place. But such are the living conditions for these workers, who amongst them are Indians, Bangladeshis and Maindland Chinese, i reckon.

I am cycling at a far-flung corner of the island, where the inhabitants are wild animals and norturnal creatures in the jungle, and quite a couple of stray dogs. What can one expect these workers to do after a long, hard day of work, which probably involves labouring under the sweltering sun in the day? There is no entertainment and there's nothing to look forward to except yet another day of dreadful work. Perhaps the only comfort is that they are earning money which is needed to feed their families back in their homeland, and this must be a pillar of motivation for them, if not the only one. Going down the slope, i cycled past many who were sitting by the side of the road; some were alone, others with their friends, chatting. At night it's when they finally have time to themselves, to rest their tired and probably overworked bodies. Yes, the night is in many ways better than day: It's cooler, quieter, less harsh; it gives one solace.

We ended our ride at Fong Seng. The time was nearly 1130, but we were still earlier than last week. As usual i ordered iced-milo. This one was just as bad as last week's: there's more ice than milo and i finished it very quickly. Then i ordered a can of 100plus: this one can't go wrong for sure.

A lady walking next to a man just reached the prata shop. Then she smiled and waved at me - well, she looked like she was waving at me. So i waved back, fearing that if indeed i was the recipient, it would be very impolite if i did not acknowledge her greetings. It was good she didn't approach me. For the next minute or so i tried recalling who she is. Ahhh....It's Ps, i suddenly recalled. She had trained with us for the K.L. ride more than a year ago. In the end she couldn't go for the trip because she couldn't afford to take leave. A mountaineer and an outdoorsy lady, she's one of a group of female Singaporeans who are going to scale Mt Everest. Actually, i don't know if they have already done it or are still training for it. But i recall she's one tough lady, very fit. She's also very pleasant and affable; I've had nice conversations with her. When we were leaving, i thought it polite to approach her and say hi. I must have looked silly, for instead of calling her name, i went past her and made myself conspicuous in front of her. Well, i just wanted to make sure i got the right person! I did, and we chatted quite a while until i remembered K and Chin were waiting for me at the roadside. We parted ways and i cycled the boring route towards home.

No change in upgrading policy

It was reported in The Sunday Times yesterday that the government's policy of upgrading will not see any major change. Essentially, this means that PAP wards will continue to receive priority in upgrading; opposition wards - Hougang and Potong Pasir - will still be last in line. The announcement comes more than a month after the GE took place on May 6, where the incumbent PAP lost by a greater margin in the two opposition wards compared to its performance in GE 2001. The PAP's offer of upgrading as an election tactic was deemed to have failed, and the PM said the party would have to review its strategy to win back the opposition wards.

One can therefore assume that this reaffirmation of upgrading policy was committed after the PAP had done its post-morterm analysis of the GE results, which includes its embarrassing defeat in the two opposition wards. What, then, made the PAP government decide to stick to the policy, despite the protest and displeasure of seemingly a large segment of the electorate with regard to the perceived unfairness of the upgrading policy? From letters to the ST Forum as well as online discussion, it would seem that a sizable majority of Singaporeans, be they PAP supporters or anti-PAP, are clearly in disapproval of using upgrading as an election tactic. Many Singaporeans are incensed that the two opposition wards are unfairly neglected and denied upgrading simply because they are represented by opposition parties. Upgrading, they argued, should not be a political issue exploited by the party in power; the funds for upgrading are government (which is different from party, nevermind that the government is almost synonymous with the PAP) funds which all tax-paying Singaporean voters - regardless of where they live - deserve access to, on a fair and equal basis.

From the front page article "Upgrading for all wards, but PAP ones first":

"But in an interview with the Sunday Times on Friday, Mr Mah made it clear that this review would not affect the policy of giving lift upgrading priority to PAP wards. "There is no change, that policy still remains. We've looked at it and we believe that that is still something we have to do," he said.

"Giving PAP wards priority does not mean that the Government intends to deprive opposition wards of upgrading, he added, although this point might have been lost in "the heat and the noise of the elections"."

The Minister is quite mistaken. It is not that that point had been lost in the 'heat and noise of the elections'; it is that what difference is there between giving priority to PAP wards and 'depriving' opposition wards of upgrading. Precisely because since GE 1997 the opposition wards have been last in the upgrading queue, their chances of getting access to upgrading funds are nearly as good as zero, since they will always remain the last so long as they retain their opposition status and that there always will be PAP wards which have not been upgraded, as Mr Mah himself made clear in the interview. So, in effect, regardless whether or not the government's intention is to deprive the opposition wards of upgrading, it is clear that the policy inevitably deprives the opposition wards of a fair chance to have a shot at upgrading.

The article also mentions that the ministry of National Development uses three criteria to select precincts for upgrading: 'the age of the blocks, the geographical spread to ensure upgrading is not concentrated in only a few constituencies and support for the Government.' Mr Mah pointed out that about 800 blocks in PAP wards 'are as old or older and have not been upgraded at all'. He means to reiterate and demonstrate his earlier point that the government is not depriving opposition wards of upgrading, for the fact of matter is that there are more deserving wards which meet the critieria better than Hougang and Potong Pasir do. Why did the PAP not bring this up during the election? If the PAP had won the two wards on May 6, would the 800 blocks still be placed ahead of Hougang and Potong Pasir? That the PAP dangled a $100 million and $80 million upgrading offer to Hougang and Potong Pasir voters respectively shows that the government has the means to fund upgrading in the two wards. But more important, PAP leaders themselves have belaboured the point that the two opposition wards are badly in need of renewal after many years of neglect. I can't find the reports now but i believe SM Goh said something to that effect when helping to campaign for the PAP candidates in the two wards during the election period. This would suggest that the two opposition wards, even in the eyes of the PAP government, are doubtless in urgent need of upgrading.

Sure, there are many other blocks in PAP wards which are older than the two opposition ones. But the question is how the criteria is applied to determine which precincts come first for upgrading, which comes second, and which last. What is an equitable basis to select precincts for upgrading, given that there are three criteria employed by the Ministry? Do they all take equal weight in the consideration, or is one more important than the other? Because it seems that at the end of the day, it is the third criteria - support for government - which solely affects the chances of opposition wards receiving funds for upgrading. Mr Mah conceded much when he says, "I can't put the opposition blocks at the head of the queue, ahead of these 800. Surely not (Sunday Times p. 1)." The critical factor here is not age or geographical spread, but 'opposition'.

The PAP, of course, does not deny that voting is linked to upgrading. Their justification for PAP wards getting priority for upgrading is that upgrading is a major election platform for the PAP and they, when voted into power, had to fufill their duty to their supporters. Mr Mah says that this is only fair to the residents who had voted for them:

"Some people say that it is not fair that we link votes to upgrading. Let us look at it from the point of view of those who voted for the PAP. Upgrading has been a major election platform of the PAP. PAP candidates have promised their residents that they will upgrade their estates if they are elected. Once elected, residents expect them to fulfil their promise. So, i would argue that it is not unreasonable for these residents to be in front of the queue for upgrading, if they have supported the PAP candidates. After all, if we did not have people voting in the PAP candidates, you would not have the PAP Government and its policies to generate the surpluses to finance the upgrading programme." (The Sunday Times, p. 10)

Again, the Minister is quite mistaken. If his explanation is supposed to counter the charge of unfairness, he seems to have put the cart before the horse. No one seriously suggests the PAP not fufill its election promise when it is elected into office. If residents were promised upgrading and they voted in the PAP, it is only fair that the PAP fufills its promise to them. But when people say that linking votes to upgrading is 'not fair', what they really mean is that this should never in the first place be used as an election tactic; upgrading should not be used as a carrot to win votes because it rightfully should be made available to all Singaporeans, regardless of who they vote for in the elections. Fairness in this instance refers to the policy itself, not whether opposition wards should come before or after PAP wards in the queue for upgrading.

But, just as revealing, if not more, is the last statement made by Mr Mah: 'After all, if we did not have people voting in the PAP candidates, you would not have the PAP Government and its policies to generate the surpluses to finance the upgrading programme.' This smacks of self-righteousness. True, the PAP Government is capable and has done well to generate surpluses so important for financing the upgrading prgramme. Yet is it not the business of every government of the day to do its best economically and improve the livelihood of all citizens, not just of those who voted for the ruling party? Let it not be forgotten that in every constituency that the PAP won there is a sizable minority which voted for the opposition, just as in the two constituency where the opposition won, there are many who voted for the PAP. The Government is in power because voters had put them there; but after the government comes into power it should exercise governmental responsibility in a non-partisan manner, fairly to each and every citizen, and every residential ward. This includes ensuring that precincts in need of upgrading get government funds for that purpose.

At any rate the most interesting question that arises from the report is this: Given the earlier impression that the PAP had called for a review of its strategy in the opposition wards to reconsider the effectiveness of upgrading as an election tactic, why has it decided to continue with the policy, despite its apparent failure?

I offer here a few plausible reasons.

1. Contrary to popular belief, the upgrading policy to win votes is not quite a failure. Yes, it failed to win Hougang and Potong Pasir from the opposition hands, but it continues to retain the votes in other wards that have been dominated by the PAP. In the just ended GE, it is likely that the upgrading policy continues to play a role in affecting voters' decision. The physical state of the two opposition wards remain glaring examples of the price voters would pay for supporting opposition parties, and voters from PAP wards are not oblivious of that consequence.

Further, that Mr Mah is 'surprised bread and butter issues not top concern' (p. 10) is telling of the government's perception of voting patterns and interests. If his views are representative of the government, it is clear that the PAP does not buy into the findings of the Institute of Policy Studies, which found that most voters 'value an efficient government and fairness in policies over bread and butter issues'. According to Mr Mah, his and other PAP MPs' interactions with their residents shows that many people are still concerned with jobs, cost of living and 'things like lifts, facilities'. Therein, the upgrading policy still holds sway with voters. It may not be able to win back the opposition wards, but it has been able to prevent others from switching to the opposition.

2. As Mr Mah himself said, upgrading was an election platform for the PAP. The PAP can ill afford to make a U-turn on the policy by giving preference to the opposition wards. The minister took pains to stress that the age of blocks and their geographical spread are factors that play a role in deciding which ward gets upgrading first. But he also made it known, unambiguously, that PAP wards would come first. To make any concessions or tweak the policy would be tantamount to going back on its promise, and the upgrading policy would be rendered redundant. This would make the PAP come across as not credible.

3. The PAP failed to win over the majority of Hougang and Potong Pasir voters not so much because the upgrading policy had failed, but because voters there have developed a sense of solidarity with and loyalty to their MPs, Mr Low Thia Kiang of the Worker's Party and Mr Chiam See Tong of the Singapore Democratic Alliance, respectively. The snippets of interviews done by the ST with voters from the two wards often bear this out. This factor probably outweighs the carrot of upgrading in winning voters' hearts and minds. In not changing the upgrading policy to favour the opposition wards, the PAP probably recognised that the crux of their failure lay not in the upgrading policy: Indeed, they have to go beyond that to win back the opposition wards.

4. Adherence to the upgrading policy does not imply that the PAP is giving up on the two opposition wards. Nor is the PAP in any doubt that the upgrading policy failed to win the two wards. Instead, the PAP appears to have made up its mind to make upgrading a peripheral issue by the next GE. For Mr Mah mentioned that the government has pledged that 'by 2015, all HDB blocks will have lifts that stop on every floor, with the exception of a small number of blocks whose designs make such works too costly (Sunday Times p. 1).' Given that the next GE is due by 2011, by then, lift upgrading would hardly be a bone of contention in the elections, since by 2015 all eligible HDB blocks, including those from the present opposition wards, will have or are slated to receive lift upgrading.

Therefore, what remains to be seen is not the issue of upgrading, but what new strategies the PAP will engage to retain its dominance against the rising popularity of the Worker's Party, as well as to win the two opposition wards in the next GE.

rain...everyday also rain...

This morning we were supposed to meet 730am at Longhouse for a 100km+ ride. At six-something in the morning i started to get sms-es asking me if the ride was proceeding, for it was then (still) raining at some areas. I looked out the window and was greeted by an ominously red sky. Unable to decide if i should postpone or cancel the ride, i called Jon to seek his opinion. But that lucky ass, as I expected, did not turn on his mobile phone. (His home in Serangoon is a stone's throw away from Longhouse, so he could well afford to wake up at 7am and still cycle there in time.)

After a check with a few others - it was raining at their area - I decided to call off our meeting. Whether we would ride at all later in the day depends how the weather turns out. I got out of bed, took the particulars list, went to the sofa and started thumbing away on my cellphone. Each msg was actually the length of two msgs, and i sent out the msg to some 16 people, which adds up to nearly the equivalent of 30 sms. A few of them msged back (Kiat says, 'okie! i'll enjoy my morning tv first den'; Eug says, 'Ok thanks for informing. let's wait and see how the weather goes. It's unfortunate that it rains today.'). Though sometimes a reply may seem rather redundant, it's always nice to have people acknowledge your msg. At least you would know that your msg has been received, and you can proceed to make other plans.

It was nearly 7 then and i was already quite awake. The sun was nowhere to be seen and though it wasn't raining at my place, the sky remained dark and gloomy. Yes, i was disappointed that our cycling plans were disrupted; but, when Nature decides to make its harsh presence felt, it is best to steer clear of its path. My teeth brushed, i went back to bed and fell asleep right away.

In the end, the ride was cancelled coz everyone seemed to have made other plans. Just as well - it's now raining cats and dogs at my area.

Maybe it's time to crawl back to bed again.

My short teaching stint

For a short while - two weeks, to be exact - after i graduated from jc, i did relief teaching at a secondary school. I took over the duties of a teacher who was on extended sick leave, and taught English and Literature. Yesterday, i needed to find out exactly when i taught at the school, but it was nearly 5 years ago and i really couldn't recall. So i dug out some of the things that were associated with my short teaching stint: photographs taken with the students and a farewell card given by my (sec 2) form class. I was hoping there would be mention of dates somewhere, but alas, there was none. Then i dug out a letter written to me by the class monitor, a cheeky and mischievious boy who is quite a good talker. Reading the letter, i recalled how silly and embarrassed i was then, a junior college graduate who barely had what it takes to teach a group of young students like myself. I was there only because there was a job and it paid well - hardly a good reason for the education of young minds to be entrusted into my inexperienced hands, no matter how short the teaching stint lasted. I read the contents of the letter and was half-amused by the writing, half-horrified by experiences which it reminded me of.

"... ... just want to tell you that frm so many relief teacher that come across my class your are the most Patient and Serious teacher whom really worth earning the money. Serious manz, why are you so serious huh? I guess your dream of becoming a xxx xxx will be fufil! (sorry manz, my english was not tht gd) Frm what you teach us i learned alot manz. (Tone)!! Now wht tone am i using??

"... ... As a monitor, i take full Responsibility of any damage of your ear or throat... Cher, which relief teacher is the most pretty one huh?"

As i was reproducing these parts of his letter i almost burst out laughing. The monitor says in the letter he will 'take full responsibility of any damage of (my) ear or throat'. He needn't, but he correctly pointed out the dangers i was exposed to, for most of the time i was shouting and keeping the raucous class attentive rather than teaching. I had to thunder against the voices of more than thirty students - yes, thunder. I remember the class monitor very well. As evident from (the 'tone' of) his letter, he has an engaging personality, is playful and cheeky, but not in a disrespectful way. That he wrote what he did and gave the letter to me on my last day shows his sincerity and sense of responsibility he felt as the leader of the class. I was grateful and touched by his gesture.

Two weeks is a very short period of time and i genuinely felt sorry for the students who had to suffer constant disruption to their educational process. No matter how good relief teachers are, if there is frequent change in teachers owing to whatever circumstances, it is ultimately the students who suffer. This is because the students have to make adjustments and adapt to new teaching styles and learning environment each time there's a change in their educators. And this can affect substantially their learning mood and progress. Moreover, without a permanent teacher overseeing the learning process, the students' progress cannot be followed up and it would be difficult to draw up long term plans to assist them. The form class that i taught was, in Singapore's educational jargon, from the normal academic stream. And these are the students who greatly need more attention and a consistent teacher to engage them.

I recall with great embarrassment an exercise i did with the class. As i had assumed the responsibilities of their form teacher, in addition to teaching them English and Literature i had to also conduct a 'civics class' session (that takes place every week) whereby class meetings are held or where the students would be taught non-academic subjects such as social skills and the like. (i readily admit i can't remember the exact function of the lesson.) Thank goodness i only had to do it once, for i was in a poor position (owing to my lack of experience) to conduct the lesson properly. Neither was i given any proper instructions - for, it was assumed, i was there only temporarily. By and large it is true that the lesson is not indispensable or extremely important (to the students, it's a non-lesson, good); i was there first and foremost to stand in for their form teacher, someone who by seniority of age is far wiser to deliver the lesson and achieve its objectives, whatever they are.

And so i wondered what to do with the bunch of boisterious kids who, we all know, ain't the least bit interested in hearing a teacher preach. In the end, i spoke to them about my aspirations (i am guessing here, coz i can't otherwise explain how the monitor knew about what i had wanted to become, then). It seems way too cheesy even as i recall now, but i made them close their eyes after that, spoke to them and encouraged them to think about what they want to achieve in life. Thereafter i made them write down their thoughts, and assured them no one else would read them except I. It was an exercise to make them think about and articulate their aspirations, so that they might work towards realising them. It's meant to increase their confidence and imbue in them a sense of purpose in life.

I was - still am - embarrassed and felt silly because, really, how much older was i than they? It's not as if i had experience on my side and had achieved my dream - did i even believe in having aspirations and living one's dreams in the first place? Nevertheless, it was humbling reading what they wrote for that exercise. The papers were returned to them later; now i can't recall much of what was written. Of course, some of them didn't take the exercise seriously and wrote something only because it had to be submitted. But i do remember one of them, a Malay girl, wanted to become a hairdresser; she wanted to set up her own salon. Most of them also expressed their wish to do well enough for their N' level examinations so they could clear the 'O' levels eventually.

As a teacher, reading all this, one feels an immense sense of duty to help these students clear the academic hurdles. In part because i was a relief teacher and had the time, and in part because i was idealistic and perhaps not a little naive at my age then, i responded and wrote comments in all the papers. I could only wish that i have spurred one or two students, and that all of them went on to do well in their studies and pursue their dreams.
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As an ex-undergrad who was schooled in the humanities and social sciences, teaching is one career which many people have asked if i would consider: not because i look like someone who can teach, but because teaching is one of the most viable career options for arts students. Besides, the job pays well.

I am not being modest here, but i believe i lack the qualifications to teach. I am not looking at primary school level teaching, but at the secondary level. The question is whether i specialise in any particular subject taught at the secondary level to be able to teach. But more important, i know teaching is not my calling. It's a noble profession, and one who chooses the teaching path had better be in it for the right reasons. However good one is in a particular subject, i believe the primary role of a teacher does not lie in teaching a subject, but nurturing the potential and facilitating the wide-ranging education process that a student goes through in school. Teaching is a very arduous and challenging journey because to be able to teach, a teacher may have to invest a great amount of mental attention first to changing students' attitudes and disciplining them. For learning is not merely just passively imbibing technical knowledge; there are so many varied dimensions that affect whether a student would learn effectively and thereby develop his mental faculties.

During the two weeks of relief teaching i also taught a normal technical stream class. Some students, who are gangsters, would walk out of the classroom midway during lesson. Once, i entered the classroom only to witness a fight; as a result the lesson could not proceed and other students were thus affected; and i later had to submit an eye-witness report to the school because fighting was involved.

Yet that's the tough job facing a teacher: taking on non-teaching roles; genuinely desiring to help each and every student, no matter their background or how hopeless a situation may seem; and being convinced of the noble aims of the profession before being able to convince and educate students. It is also the reason why many of my friends want to go back to their alma-mater to teach, for they know that there they have bright students who are far easier to teach; they can focus on teaching a subject they truly love rather than having to devote more energy on non-teaching aspects.

Teaching is a rewarding job which requires - indeed it demands - immense patience and hard work. You have to like engaging people, be prepared and motivated to spend a great deal of time and effort not teaching a subject, but settling problems, moulding characters and helping those who need personal attention and help most. Whoever decides on teaching as a career has to ask himself or herself whether he or she is ready for the challenge and hard work. Not the attractive renumeration.

letting go

Yesterday night i went cycling with Jon, K and Kiat. They were all on road bikes and i had to draft them all the way coz they were going very fast. We went the usual way starting from KAP towards Kranji > Neo Tiew > Lim Chu Kang > West Coast. We skipped Tuas and ended off at South Buona Vista Road for the orgasmic iced milo we had the other time. Unfortunately it was almost midnight and the shop had already closed. So we settled for an indian shop which was the only one still open. I ordered iced milo, which turned out to be just all right.

K gave me a pair of absolutely fabulous jersey. It couldn't fit him and he thought i would be a better fit. I was of course very excited, though the excitement was kind of short lived. When i tried it on at home, i found the armholes to be rather tight and uncomfortable. Everything else about it is ok except that. When i emailed K this morning and said i would return it to him, he said that cycling jerseys are supposed to fit snugly, suggesting perhaps that the jersey fits me well just that i may not know. I wished so. The last thing i want is to accept the jersey only to find that wearing it whilst on the go feels plain uncomfortable. I would have done an injustice to K's efforts.

At any rate K is an incredibly nice guy. A lawyer in his mid-thirties, he has the boyish good looks of a twenty-something. I've said before that when i first learnt about his age, i was struck with increduity. It must be good genes; else, he must surely be in grasp of the secret to eternal youthful looks.

At our rest-stop, we found out that his mum doesn't know he will be cycling to Kuantan next week. In fact, she doesn't know that he rides regularly. Then he says something that is true of all mothers: 'No matter how old you are, mothers being mothers, they will always be worried and think everything is dangerous. Diving, too dangerous; cycling on the road, cannot; etc, etc.' I know this too well myself. No matter how old we are, even when we've become parents ourselves, we will still be someone's son or daughter. Most mothers would rather their child be less adventurous, live a placid life where every possible sort of harm or risk is kept at bay: because at the bottom of their heart, their ultimate concern is to see her child safe and healthy.

My mum, of course, knows that i ride a bike. It was after years of resistance that i finally got approval to buy my own bike. I guess at some point of time, all mothers would have to reconcile with the fact that their beloved boy/girl has grown up and is now an adult who can make his/her own decisions. It doesn't mean that their worries stop upon that reconciliation, but it means letting go of the child, supporting him/her in what he/she does but never hesistating to caution, rebuke, help and protect him/her from all harm.

Being a cyclist, i only know all too well that cycling on the road can be - indeed it is - a very dangerous affair. Ask any cyclist and chances are he or she has had a brush with accident/death before. In Singapore especially, there's no road culture wherein cyclists are duly respected as rightful users of the road alongside other powerful and menacing vehicles. Bicycles, i dare say, are regarded more as peripheral vehicles which have somewhat less legitimate a right to travel on the road than say a car or bus. Thus it is that many drivers are either impatient or do not give much regard for cyclists - they don't give the latter the right of way at a junction or they simply drive dangerously close past cyclists. For the cyclist who is exposed and not shielded as a driver in the interior of his vehicle is, he/she is vulnerable and feels even more so when a vehicle whizzes or roars past.

Therefore i can understand my mum's fears. It is for the same reason that i never tell her how far i cycle each time, or where i cycle to, for that matter. She might just freak out. For most of us young people who are active in sports or whatever matters or activities that involve any risk, be it to our general well-being or in a financial or emotional aspect, we often do not inform our parents of the full picture. Sometimes that's because they won't understand even after you explained several times. But very often we don't want to because we don't want them to be uneccessarily worried for us. (Plus, their worrying would end up making us just as worried for them, their emotional well-being.) When one becomes a parent, every stage of one's child's life is a new phase that has never before been experienced. It is a journey of constant learning and coping, one that continues throughout life. The way i see it, as sons or daughters we do play a role in helping our (worried) parents help themselves adjust to changes (which can be abrupt and worrying or unpleasant), accept the changes that inevitably would take place as we grow older (though not necessarily more sensible), and cope with these changes. We play a role - because we are part of the change. Not telling your parents the whole truth of certain matters at the outset can also mean giving them time to learn about things and slowly coming to terms with the change.

Letting go is not easy; it can be painful even. But all parents have to learn to let go, and it's possible that as their child we can and should help ease that process for them while expanding our personal space, one which is so important for us to be able to live happy and learn independence and maturity. This is something that takes place throughout our lives - only one day, as someone's father or mother, we begin to straddle two roles and see things from our parents' perspective.

on buffet and a reticent friend

A week ago i had dinner at Sakura in Toa Payoh. I never knew if the restaurant in the past offered Japanese food only, but it now offers buffet that serves a variety of food, ranging from cantonese dim sum to sushi to chinese cuisine, and the other usual stuff which you get at a buffet. The sheer variety of food does not quite square with the name of the restaurant, but this doesn't matter. In the fiercely competitive restaurant scene, anything goes so long as it brings in the business. If you are the kind who likes variety and don't nit-pick on quality, Sakura's buffet is quite value for money indeed.

Going by what i saw when i was there, it is quite obvious that the restaurant has set its sights on heartlander families; whole clans seem to be there, what with screaming kids, grandparents and parents busy getting food and feeding their restless kids at the same time. (Coincidentally, i found out the next day from Kenneth that he had brought his family and his parents and in-laws to the branch at Science Centre the same night. I was rather surprised.) Indeed, most Singaporeans seem more than willing to splurge on the occasional buffet, reflecting somewhat the kiasu trait of the (stereo)typical Singaporean - eager to snag the best deal and get the most.

And the restaurant is eager to bring in as many customers in a night as possible, judging by its sparse layout and nondescript but plentiful number of tables that are in close proximity. Not that customers would mind or even notice - the array of food would keep them distracted and pleased. This isn't a place to seek comfort and privacy; the main activity is eating - eating the spread of food which you paid to get as much of as you desire - and other considerations are merely secondary.

I am not particularly enamoured of buffets. In part because my appetite has seemingly shrunk over the years and i don't eat as much as before (sign of getting older?). So the variety and amount of food at buffets don't really appeal to me, and i see no need to spend so much to enjoy the freedom to choose from a variety. Quite the contrary, i prefer my meals simple. Just the other day my friend chose to eat the Marriott buffet for his birthday lunch. I did not join him but shared the cost of his meal with two other friends who went with him. As i told my friend, i just can't justify paying $45 for a lunch - not because i don't eat a lot, but because it is highly imprudent to do so (i ain't earning my own salary). Moreover, this group of friends have a penchant for eating buffets, because one or two of them think that instead of paying 20 over bucks at a normal restaurant for a meal, one might as well pay the same amount or slightly more to enjoy the variety that a buffet affords. I don't buy that logic. Yet, coincidentally, on the following Friday i went for (another) sushi buffet with three friends at suki sushi, at the cost of about $24 per person. I didn't mind because the main purpose was to meet a friend who's going back to Australia for good. But the restaurant staff would be glad to know that i didn't eat more than what i paid for - two plates of sushi (the cheapest priced plate), one chawanmushi and two glasses of orange juice are all that i had. Nowhere does that come close to even ten bucks.

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I didn't set out to write about the Sakura buffet, or buffets in general, but somehow i obviously ended up doing so. Actually i wanted to say i enjoyed myself that night and in particular i am inspired to make a few observations about my quiet friend, teoks. But more on him later. The meeting was fun and i was a happier person at the end of it not only because tam, jo, jules and teoks were great company, but also because i had just relieved myself of a week of painful anxiety. The outcome of that anxious anticipation for a week wasn't pretty, but it comforted me in that i was finally spared the agony of making fateful predictions and scenarios. I did not for a moment doubt that the outcome would have been otherwise, even if friends had been reassuring. Now that the dust has sort of settled, the fateful anticipating has turned into something equally bad. It's as if the fuller picture has now finally emerged - and that's the scary part.

Anyway, the usual stuff transpired over our meeting at Sakura and at Mac's later. jo fed us with a lot of gossipy news from which more conversation topics spinned off. tam's presence was guarantee that there would be plenty of laughter: her spontaneity and the gaiety she exudes are infectious and always liven the mood; so are her gestures and occasional outbursts of laughter, which never fail to amuse all of us. Then there's her teases and comments, delivered in a somewhat understated manner and sometimes in an almost furtive voice, hilarious and funny. I sometimes couldn't catch what she or jo was saying, and before i knew it, my impairment was made a joke.

teoks is always the quiet one, and because he's bashful and so silent, he's an easy target of our jokes. He's smart and knows what we are getting at, but sometimes all he does is grimace and smile knowingly, while his gaze, registering a mix of futile protest and resignation, falls on somewhere. Often, in the midst of our chatting i would peer at him just to have a feel of how he's taking our conversations. Sometimes his facial expression remains straight, at other times it relaxes into a knowing smile and quiet laughter. I don't think he feels uncomfortable with us, but he's incredibly reticent and speaks most of the time only when we exhort him or ask questions related to him. Even then, he makes very terse responses, no doubt because we are often more teasing than asking a proper question. He is of course by nature a shy person and man of few words, but one can't help but wonder sometimes - as jo later said to me also - whether he's like that when hanging out with his other friends. I believe when he's with his bunch of army pals he's certainly more prone to talking. Us - we are such a raucously noisy bunch that's just the opposite of his personality. Besides, i can understand that the girls sometimes talk about stuff that us boys aren't interested in. So we sit back and be an observer instead of a participator.

In writing however, teoks is a different person. His wit is evident and he always makes clever ripostes to our remarks (in email). If only he's as comfortable conversing socially as he is in writing, i've no doubt he would be a funny and popular chap with girls. On the other hand, he's made big strides since those good 'ol jc days. Where once he was a reclusive hermit, he's now more actively involved in social and school activities than any of us. When we learnt that he's now learning a certain kind of dance, we were quite in awe and truly impressed. He must have felt embarrassed to tell us - for he must have known that the jokes would come fast, which they did - as he seemed reluctant to speak at first. I can only imagine that he must be much more comfortable talking with his friends who are learning dancing together (coz dancing with and in a group is a very social kind of activity that requires communication). Not that i am casting doubts on the strength of the friendship, but as a good friend one would have preferred that he's comfortable speaking with us and willing to open up more, just as one wouldn't feel inhibited around one's good friends. But, of course, there's much i am assuming here.

I just remembered: today is the 6th and the other lawyer (not yet) amongst us is coming back to S'pore. Another feast beckons. (:

Sat, June 3rd

Punctuality is not a virtue i readily manifest (it is just as well that neither is it possessed by most people, for it is one of those traits greatly undervalued in our culture). Today however, i found myself not only punctual, i was also the first to arrive. But this was not so much my striving to be on time as an incidental occurrence. I didn't know how long it would take me to cycle from home to our meeting place, but my estimation of time turned out to be quite accurate.

When i reached the derelict caltex kiosk I found nobody there, save for an old man who seemed preparing to open business for the day. That got me a little worried: i wondered if the meeting place had been changed or was the ride cancelled. I didn't inform anyone that i would be coming for today's ride. Thankfully Rashid arrived soon after - but not before a group of cyclists in complete cycling jerseys whizzed past me. The sky was slowly getting brighter - it was 630am - and i felt fresh and ready to go, nevermind that only 50 minutes ago i had great difficulty hauling myself out of bed. Keith was the last to arrive. We waited awhile more just in case there are others coming. Five minutes went by, Kenneth got on his bike, took the lead and we (6 of us) rode off.

Good thing the ride started early, for the weather today turned out to be blazingly hot, a far cry from the cold downpour that we cycled in last Sunday. There were no especially memorable moments today, in part because the usual jokers weren't around to liven the mood. However, the ride was certainly much tougher compared to last two weeks. After we turned towards Raffles Marina at Tuas checkpoint, we experienced headwind for most part of the distance to our restpoint at West Coast food centre. But as we had started the ride early it was only 915am when we got there, having clocked close to 70km including the distance that we each cycled to get to the meeting place. No one ordered any food. Instead, for just 6 people, we bought - for the time that we were there - 6 iced milo, 1 teh, 1 kopi-peng, 1 chin chow, 2 hundred plus and two 1.5l of H20 (for refilling bottles) to boot. Quite a gargantuan amount of fluid, but that's quite normal; cyclists need the hydration. My only gripe was that the milo peng wasn't fabulous.

(Which reminds me, the other night some of us went to this shop at the end of South Buona Vista Road to have drinks, as Chin had told us that it has the most orgasmic, powerful milo peng around. It turned out that it wasn't just the milo peng, but the lime juice and barley were also quite orgasmic - they were so ultra concentrated, you could get plain water - which Chin did - and refill your glass a few more times and it would still taste sweet. A pity i was just recovering from illness and couldn't drink any of that. Instead i had to do with the bland heaven and earth green tea while all the rest happily savour their ultra orgasmic drinks.)

When we resumed our ride after that the sun was so strong that it didn't take long before i felt very thirsty again. At Mandai it took me a good deal of effort to keep my cycling constant, especially when going up all those dreadful slopes. Kenneth was already ahead and i felt it was hopeless trying to catch up with him. But when i saw he was stopped by a red light i knew it was now or never. I pedaled hard, caught up with him and drafted him all the way to the end of Mandai road, our end point. I must say it is quite an embarrassment to be drafting Kenneth, who's nearly twice my age. He now rides very fast and his energy doesn't seem to dwindle. I, on the other hand, felt weak from the whole morning of riding. By the time i reached the end stop it was almost noon and i have covered more than 100km - the longest distance in a day i have done for a long time.

We parted ways at the petrol kiosk and i found out that it was customary to shake everyone's hands before leaving.

I looked into the sky and saw no clouds. Then my morale dropped even lower when i realised i had some 13km to cycle to get home. There was no Kenneth in front of me this time, and i was cycling like a defeated soldier worn out from battle. I did want to go faster - the heat was scorching - so that i could get home quickly. But obviously my legs wouldn't cooperate (all right i admit i was half hearted). When i got home i yanked away my clothes and let the fan blow full blast at my body which needed cooling desperately. The cold bath after that was great, though no sooner had i finished bathing than i began to sweat again. ;(

But well, i am glad that i exercised self discipline today, woke up early and joined the ride - I fufilled my training commitment this week.

A wet ride

It rained torrentially on Sunday. This wouldn't have bothered me had i been at home sleeping under my warm blanket. Instead i was out on the road, with my body fully exposed to the relentless rain. Alas, the good weather earlier - which we had too soon spoken about - didn't last. Although the headwind seemed stronger than last week when we started out, at least that was made tolerable by the cool weather; the clouds were quite abundant but didn't look threatening - that is, until we were riding into Tuas.

The rain hadn't come but looking into the sky and up ahead, there was no doubt that it's just a matter of time before it pours buckets. Still, i harboured the thought that we might just be lucky. For all we know it could be a false alarm - wishful thinking!

Eugene isn't a man of many words; he's friendly and amicable but doesn't strike one as the sort who talks a great deal. Yet whenever he speaks he seems always wise and thoughtful. 'We are heading right into the eye of the storm,' he said with a knowing smile as we rode downslope and felt the icy coolness of the air. I couldn't but feel a sense of admiration. He was spot-on, and his choice of words perfectly described the situation.

Much to my immense disappointment, it finally rained. The droplets fell from above, randomly but forcefully. Picking up haste, they soon pelted heavily and in increasing amount. There was a palpable sense of urgency as i realised i was making greater efforts at pedalling: the rest of them were cycling faster; and when one starts cycling faster in a group, everyone joins in. It's as though we were running away from destiny, trying to beat nature with naked human velocity - but on our two-wheelers, of course.

For quite some time it seemed as though our endeavours had paid off: the sky was completely enveloped by dark grey clouds but the almost-certain downpour did not materialise. The rain hadn't stopped, to be sure, but it was manageable. I love the rain and wouldn't mind a good drench - but not when i am cycling: for one thing i (and most people) hate getting my socks wet (it reminds me of army); for another i don't relish the prospect of cleaning the bike (lubricating and all) at the end of the ride.

The impending storm and falling raindrops certainly was no dampener on everyone's spirits. There was much talk and merriment, i could hear; I didn't know what the guys were talking about, however, as i was fumbling in my pouch for my snicker bars: my glycogen level was depleting and i needed desperately to eat to recover strength. And so - already the rest of the pack were very fast - i began to drop behind them, trailing further as i slowed down whilst trying to grip the handlebar with one hand and rummaging my waistpouch with the other. When i finally got my snicker bar, it turned out to be another problem trying to tear away the wrapper: the snicker bar has turned soft and was sticking stubbornly to the wrapper. It's not my day.

Perhaps Heaven decided to let me have my snicker bar before he unleashed its fury. As i felt better and was able to cycle harder (by this time i couldn't see the guys anymore), the heavy rain came on. My shoes felt heavier as they became two temporary resevoirs; the tyres were picking up water and splashing towards me, not to mention the rain that was coming from all directions; and, finally, it was getting a little discouraging riding solo on a large empty road where my friends were so well ahead that i couldn't spot them. I knew our destination - West Coast Food Centre - was not far away so i did the best that i could - which is to summon all my strength and cycle faster to catch up with the others. Strangely, i didn't feel i was exerting tremendous strength even though i looked at my speedo and it registered nearly 35kph quite consistently. I found out later that there was tailwind - no wonder all of them cheong and surged forth. EY said that at one point they were cycling at 50 or 55kph - my, i can't even reach that speed when i go down a steep slope!

At the food centre we laid our bikes aside and sat around a small makeshift table at the side-walkway. Keith got the lady from the drinks store over to take our orders and the poor lady expressed mock displeasure at our completely different choices of drinks: 1 teh-o, 2 teh, 1 soya bean, 1 chin chow, 1 kopi-o, 1 hundred plus (not sure about this). Nevertheless, she was near her store and all she did was to shout the orders across. We ordered our food, talked about the ride and, as usual, all kinds of jokes were made. Jon and Kenneth did not order anything. I asked Kenneth why and he said his wife was preparing a sumptuous lunch that day. His stomach was completely reserved for his wife's ai xin wu can.

All this while the rain showed no signs of abating. Eugene and Kenneth were leaving and i decided i might as well, since I would be going the same way as Kenneth. I'm not sure if that proved a wise move, for the rain was incredibly heavy as we cycled back. I was mercilessly assaulted by the pelting droplets; shivering with cold, there was nothing to be done except to keep on cycling. Home beckons.