Postcards from Cambodia 4

We enjoyed very good food both in Siem Reap and Phnom Penh, and we are not apologetic about it. For one thing, Dennis (J's friend) who's been to Siem Reap had told us to go for 'fine dining', because the price you pay is something you would never have been able to bargain for in Singapore.

It turned out that while we did enjoy some very fine food during our trip, we certainly wouldn't qualify our dining experience as 'fine dining'. But that's a no issue.

Among the restaurants we patronised, Funky Monkey stood out for its - truly - funky vibes. It's located away from Pub street where most of the restaurants are congregated; this probably explains why it wasn't remotely crowded when we reached there in the evening, for it should be enjoying a full-house crowd, given the outrageously good food that it serves.

Even details like the drink straws make a difference to the mood

A humongous, juicy burger

I swear, this is the most delicious creamy prawn linguini I've ever tasted!

The fish and chips were cooked to a perfect crisp

The delectable Western food is complemented by the decorations adorning the walls and furniture, stylishly illuminated under the ambient lighting. As the restaurant occupies only a small space, it makes your dining experience an intimate one as you can see the colourful, decorated walls in its full splendour from nearly any seat.

The huge posters on the side walls feature presumably celebrated characters from assasination movies, evoking a warm, fuzzy cinematic mood. These were the centre-pieces which grab your attention the moment you enter the restaurant.

The wall at the back displays a smorgasbord of posters from the eighties and earlier, no doubt meant to create a sense of nostalgia. One can only assume that the owner had a love affair with the co-ordinated themes, so manifestly displayed by the paraphernalia all over the restaurant. And I - I was totally taken over by its theme-centred deco and became shutter-happy with my camera.

Needless to say, we imitated the characters and struck all kinds of ridiculous but absolutely fun poses for photo-taking. Which of course I'm not showing here. :)

Even the toilet, both interior and exterior, is tastefully decorated

Oh, and i couldn't resist making a second trip to take photos of the toilet!

Postcards from Cambodia 3
Postcards from Cambodia 2
Postcards from Cambodia
That touristy thing

Postcards from Cambodia 3

The one good thing about not having any expectations of a trip is that when something pleasant comes along, you are likely to feel a greater sense of genuine joy. That's because when you don't have to live up to any expectations, you accept anything that comes along, good or bad, as it is, and you probably won't feel any worse off if it's a bad encounter. On the other hand, when good things happen, you feel a sense of genuine elation over the unexpected harvest, as if it's a bonus that you fortuitously chanced upon.

My trip to Cambodia was by all measures wonderful. My only expectation was that I was looking forward to a relaxing break from the cheerless drudgery of working life; it didn't matter to me that much whether or not my destination had something to offer.

But that's not to say that Cambodia had nothing good to offer. The culturally rich, awe-inspiring Angkor ruins alone would have done justice to any visit to Siem Reap. In addition to the world-famous monuments were the relaxed atmosphere of dusty Siem Reap town and the unfailingly warm and friendly locals.




But above all, I had good company: friends who like me, had not set expectations for the trip, did not fuss over planning, were content to take things easy. And oftentimes, being in the right company is a pivotal factor that affects whether you have a good trip or not.

Tour de Floating Village

Unless one intends to spend a good number of days touring the vast Angkor area, there aren't that many places in Siem Reap to explore. It's not a bad thing per se, unless you are the type who must fill your itineray with places to visit in order to get your trip's worth.

Sekth was the one who recommended that we see the Floating Village. We took up his suggestion partly because, well, we had the time.


The journey down the river turned out to be - no surprise - absolutely delightful. As usual, there was a lot of fun photo-taking - of ourselves and of the village, of course. Every now and then, XY and I would be scrambling to capture a passing moment as the boat glides along.

We had the entire boat to ourselves, and that might have made the journey more enjoyable than if there'd been others on board, which would have restricted our movement, obliged us to laugh more discreetly and strike more approving poses when taking photographs. Neither would my two companions have'd the chance to take the driver's seat, steering the boat in the open sea, squealing in delight as if they'd fufilled their wildest dream to be a boat driver.

But what made the river trip so enjoyable was something more simple and universal. Surrounded by water and greenery, the soothing sky above us and the gentle breeze caressing our face, anyone would have given of themselves completely to the idyllic tranquility and beauty of nature, without any restraint.

In fact, there were no spectacular sights, buildings or landmarks to admire; only the calm water ahead of the boat, the gentle waves stirred by the motor, the long grasses and shrubbery, and the nondescript stilt houses and their ordinary inhabitants.

Yet out of all these, one feels an inner sense of calm, as if for the moment our urban souls had been forsaken, and we'd unconciously embraced the silence that's become a rare occurrence in our frenetic lives.

Green grass and blue sky paint a perfect picture

Solitary building in the midst

Reflections: Floating Village

Kids as young as 8 years old row the boat and move around by themselves

Scarecrow

Villagers offer rides through the labyrinth of low-lying trees

Snapshot of 'floating' life

Where the sea and sky merge

Candid shot; L wasn't posing (even if she harbours supermodel dreams)

NY Times - 100 Notable Books of 2007

100 Notable books of 2007

Well, i've already marked down a book that I want! :)

Collision Avoidance Failure

'Collision Avoidance Algorithm.' I have no idea what the heck this is, except that it is something that Josh is working on currently. Oh, and that there is alliteration.

"I had a bad week. I made an error last week and had to do the same thing again this week," he explained. It wasn't any punishment; probably some calculation error, which meant he had to repeat a process all over again.

Still, I couldn't contain my silly grin and remarked: 'So you can prevent a collision of whhaaat?'

I have a tendency to laugh at what engineers do or what gets them excited, if only because a) their work often seem extraordinarily boring, at least to lay people like me; and b) the jargon they use in their work is so unfathomable they become fodder for jokes and satire.

I laugh, but I also know what they do ain't just any sort of work that others could do (not that others would like to do anyway). Back in school days, my engineer friends would similarly laugh at the theories and seeming inpracticality of arts subjects. While they are adept with figures, diagrams and formulas, arts people - not all - are perhaps more comfortable with words and ideas - stuff that can hardly be stripped down to equations or figures.

His eyes wide open, Josh shared enthusiastically with me: 'I heard about this: Two guys were laying bricks. One of them says he's building bricks; the other says he is building a castle. Inspiring!'

'Oh, he's building (sand) castle in the air alright.' I shot back immediately, half-joking and smiling.

I just have to do it. Collision avoidance failed. Red alert! Red alert!

Postcards from Cambodia 2

The scenes that greeted us along the way to Angkor Wat were a tell-tale sign of what the ancient ruins of Angkor have become: a vast tourist playground, incorrigibly and unmistakably so. The cacophonous blend of roaring motors and blaring of horns had replaced the natural serenity of the place. Like many a foreigner, I was eagerly looking out for Angkor Wat to emerge. For the locals though, nothing could really excite them, for this place is their backyard, and the famous ruins are just that - ruins.

Sekth, our amiable and soft-spoken tut-tut driver, often had to manoevure the kerb of the narrow road, to avoid vehicles sliding past in both directions. Despite the absence of traffic lights, amazingly there never was a hostile moment on the roads in Siemp Reap.

It's almost like a way of life, the way the locals take to the road with a certain sense of equanimity. If there is congestion or if their vehicle faced obstruction, they showed no signs of impatience or anger. Like the way they go about their simple lives, they just quietly find a way out of their predicament, and the journey continues after that.

The mammoth tour coaches plied the narrow roads in the Angkor area ceaselessly. Until then I never saw them on the roads - not surprisingly, for the Asian tourists that they carried must have been here on a package tour and they stayed in hotels that are further away from the town centre. Occasionally, I would spot one or two Caucasians cycling on the road. They seemed the kind who were there for a longer period of time, to study the ancient temples in greater detail, I reckon.

As the tranquil surroundings passed us by and as we explored the temples on foot, the mood gets a little quieter, and one turns almost contemplative. The intricate carvings on the walls, the symmetry and geometry of construction, the mere thought that we've descended on a place that rose from the hands of ancient men and which has survived centuries to this very day: these thoughts filled me with a palable sense of surreality.

It's as if History threw up such a huge disconnect, placing Modern Man in a setting that belonged to a bygone era. And we - we are but trespassers on these ancient, sacred grounds.

Christmas

1. Bought my Christmas cards very early. Bought 3 different packs of cards because I kept coming across cards with nicer designs and i couldn't resist getting them. It's for my friends after all, not for me.

2. Didn't manage to finish writing the cards at home, so ended up taking time off from work to do just that. Talk about meeting datelines.

3. Ordered and bought some 9 tins of - dare i say - delicious cookies for my good friends. It's about giving, not receiving.

4. Was 1 of 4 patrons at a cozy cafe tucked away at a corner of Bukit Timah on a Fri night, listening to Jo crooning jazz with her band. Had a really wonderful night, not least coz Jo was a natural when it comes to performing. She rocks!

5. Took leave on Christmas eve (coz was supposed to be still in M'sia) but ended up back in office, and stayed till 3pm and then off to do a site recee at Goodwood Park. I love my work, man.

6. Did last minute shopping in Orchard on Xmas eve. The crowd at night was simply pure madness. I can't understand why all those people would want to descend upon that street and subject themselves to all the jostling and pushing and claustrophobia. I took flight the moment I got what i wanted.

7. Had Xmas lunch at Coffee Club @ Holland V. The (dory) fish dish that I ordered was bland even though it apparently was awarded some Good Food Award, according to the indication in the menu. L & J got fish and chips and fish nuggets - we all had a fishy lunch, yes - and theirs tasted much better than mine. Oh, and it was wonderful to spend an afternoon in a restaurant that had relatively few people. I so hate crowds.


The dory fish that I had - it was bland, bland, bland.

Fish and Chips

Fish nugget dish

Sinful Mud Pie - can't go wrong with this, though it is now more expensive even if the portion is bigger.

That secret personal book

It's deja vu.

Today I lost count of how many times it rained, stopped, then rained and stopped again, with the sky looking like it’s completely unburdened, only to be releasing torrents again later.

It was exactly like last week. Except that I was supposed to be out of town, disengaged from reality and embracing unreality.

The floods in Malaysia and the incessant rain were the culprits, for we decided, rationally, that cycling through flooded grounds - not to mention being soaking wet - was not our cup of tea.

Suddenly my entire weekend was freed up. I had every intention to make the weekend pass languidly, and the thought of maddening crowds was all that is needed to dispel any thoughts of venturing downtown. If this wasn't enough, the intermittent downpours should do it.

Still I spent the Saturday afternoon eating and chatting in a presumably atas restaurant in a famed mall. I was in good company, received a wonderful christmas gift, engaged in funny conversations and was witness to my two friends' sometimes conflicting recollections of the past that they shared. Or rather they couldn't agree to remember a date or place or some other details. I was quite amused.

It turned out that XY could remember what happened in the past because she kept a personal book in which she recorded such details as where a meeting took place, who were involved, what had happened. So by way of defence sometimes, she would say But that was what i wrote.

More interesting for me was the realisation that many of us have our little secret personal book that we kept whilst growing up. It's usually a small notebok - could be fanciful or just plain - that is kept in the most secret of locations, even though it's in our own home alright, lest it falls into the hands of siblings or, worse, parents.

Not that the book, or diary, contains evidence of unspeakable crimes or inconvenient truths, but it usually harbours the thoughts of a growing adolescent, which are variously dumb, trivial, funny perhaps - in hindsight, of course - and embarrassing. But most important, they bear the imprints of the heady years of growing up, when matters such as friendship, schoolwork, partying and petty quarrels with friends and families were all that preoccupy our lives.

Do I have my own personal secret book? I think I have one, which I used it infrequently, only during those periods when I have much angst. It is now hidden in the most inconspicuous corner of one of the cupboards, and for now I am content to let it be that way. I don't want to cringe reading what I wrote when I was an immature 14 or 15 year-old. Not to mention having to bear the atrocious standard of English in my writings. That was the unspeakable crime.

December is also month of...Books

This being the festive season, there are discounts on just about everything available out there, books included. Whenever I'm in Borders, my instinct is to buy a book that I like or, hopefully, will grow to like.

I am reading Love in the Time of Cholera now. Evocative and rich, it reminds me again how wonderful it is to read literary classics.

Fermina Daz was in the kitchen tasting the soup for supper when she heard Digna Pardo's horrified shriek and the shouting of the servants and then of the entire neighbourhood. She dropped the tasting spoon and tried her best to run despite the invincible weight of her age, screaming like a madwoman without knowing yet what had happened under the mango leaves, and her heart jumped inside her ribs when she saw her man lying on his back in the mud, dead to this life but still resisting death's final blow for one last minute so that she would have time to come to him. He recognized her despite the uproar, through his tears of unrepeatable sorrow at dying without her, and he looked at her for the last and final time with eyes more lumninous, more grief-striken, more grateful than she had ever seen them in half a century of a shared life, and he managed to say to her with his last breath:

"Only God knows how much I loved you."

It had not been easy for her to regain her self-control after she heard Digna Pardo's shriek in the patio and found the old man of her life dying in the mud. Her first reaction was one of hope, because his eyes were open and shining with a radiant light she had never seen before. She prayed to God to give him at least a moment so that he would not go without knowing how much she had loved him despite all their doubts, and she felt an irresistable longing to begin life with him over again so that they could say what they had left unsaid and do everything right that they had done badly in the past. But she had to give in to the intransigence of death. Her grief exploded into a blind rage against the world, even against herself, and that is what filled her with the control and the courage to face her solitude alone... ...Before they closed the coffin Fermina Daz took off her wedding ring and put it on her dead husband's finger, and then she covered his hand with hers, as she always did when she caught him digressing in public.

"We will see each other very soon," she said to him.

The second paragraph from the book appeared some 4 pages after the first one. But there's a nice symmetry to what is being described and to the narrative. The first focused on the physical reaction of Fermina Daz who was rushing to her dying husband; the second described her feelings. Both complement to depict the sense of desvastation and depth of emotions running through her in that brief moment.

But more than anything else, their final words to each other - and their brevity - conveyed a sense of powerful love.

Happy Week 49 of 2007

I've been in a fairly happy mood this whole week. Happier than usual. I could feel it, because during those contemplative moments that all of us inevitably experience everyday, I was consciously aware of my contented state of mind. This, I shall attribute to the abundance of endorphins released post-marathon.

And unlike last year, I didn't feel that I was going to become a cripple after running the marathon. Sure, my legs were aching, but I wouldn't say I was in pain. In fact, I stopped feeling any aches from Tuesday onwards. This was not what I had expected, for last year I had real difficulties walking the day after the run, and it was almost a week before I could walk like normal again.

I also had the opportunity this week to hear from a distinguished Science Professor, a former award-winning national sportswoman and a well-known local writer/poet. The latter, especially, spoke with such passion about his work that it was difficult not to be roused by his enthusiastic sharing.

Hearing these accomplished people talk about their beliefs and their passions, you can't help but somewhat feel a little weak: in spirit and in deeds, you just feel that what you've done (if anything at all) in pursuit of your dreams just seemed inadequate compared to them. Nevertheless, their passionate sharing lifted my spirits at the end of the interviews.

Thursday night, met up with Adr and Lisa. Quite noticeably, my good friend hasn't had a hair-cut in a long time. Been sleeping only 5 hours a day for the past few weeks, he told us in a changed tone to convey the kind of (stressful) life he'd been living. All the same, he didn't look nor sound like someone who hasn't had a good sleep in a long time.

Anyway, i turned Santa Claus for the night when i passed him an assortment of gifts - just before he leaves for Nepal today. (Aside: I want to go Nepal someday too!) As always, he very automatically and graciously gave us a lift home.

And though I am writing all this from office now - on a Saturday afternoon - I am still happy. I am (shakes head), i am...

Photo-essay: Standard Chartered Marathon 2007

Until last Sunday, I've never taken any photos of the carnival at Padang after the race. Each time I only took photos of cheerful faces (apparent) and aching bodies (not apparent) of my running mates and me. This year though, after not being able to link up with Jon (who left without even finding me!), I took my time and went around to hopefully capture some good shots. Hence this photo-essay of sorts came to fruition.

Signing up for the marathon was easy; keeping to a training regime was tough; and running the marathon was, both easy and tough. Easy, in the sense that all that is required of you is to run; tough, because beyond a certain distance, you will have to endure running in pain.

In the end, what always keeps me going when the going gets tough is self-motivation: a desire to give your best; a desire to better your last timing. Of course, it is pointless to talk about all this if you didn't commit to any sort of training before the marathon.

I asked Run'er how was her first marathon. Her reply via sms: i enjoyed e run! a lot! came back in 5hr plus and it didn't feel as difficult as i'd imagined it to be..e suntec overhead bridge escalators are not working..saw a lot of fit-looking pple hobbling down e steps..quite comical..haha

To tell the truth, I was a little surprised but ultimately gladdened by her very positive response. Enjoyed! - in exclamation marks! How many people have actually so described their experience this way!

As running a marathon becomes increasingly fashionable, it is truly heartening to hear of someone who genuinely enjoyed the run. Because to me, enjoying the process is more important than running a marathon (per se).


Marathon finishers queuing up to collect their addidas dri-fit finisher tee.
Kids had the Games stalls to turn to for entertainment.Smart slogan by Addidas. But as Jon quips, we know it (completing a marathon) is possible already.
100 Plus, the official isotonic drink.

Distance in perspective

Large has its advantage. It is spotted easily. This particular banner reminds me of a clean and green campaign.

Running along Saint Andrew's Road past the City Hall, this final stretch is possibly the most exhilarating moment for most runners, what with supporters, strangers and fellow runners alike lining the side cheering them on.

This Singapore Design Festival display along the steps of City Hall was eye-catching and added to the vibrant multiplicity of colours and shapes in the area. Very pleasing to the eye.

Many boyfriends and husbands signed up with their partners for the marathon (full or half) to support them from start to end, as presumably did the gentleman in this photo. The couple earned rousing cheers and support from the bystanders and Emcee.

While some runners approaching the finishing line would pick up pace and finish in style, others quite simply, can't; sometimes the pain (endured for hours) is just so bad that even for that last few metres, it is hard to summon any more strength to run any faster.

That ubiquitous banner and the ubiquitous guy in it should be very well-recognised by now.

Relief, more than euphoria perhaps, is what one feels when finally past the finishing line.

The drinks were given out at the tentage to just about anyone. I helped myself to two cans despite being quite sick of it already; the replenishment is needed.

Contesting heights and shapes

Distinction

The banner at the rest tentage reads: 'You've tested your limits and emerged a winner. Congratulations on a great race!'

Layout of Carnival @ Padang

Singapore Marathon 2007