After full-house, delight

I only regret that I didn't have a better camera with me. The food was as awesome as the lively place, and I was glad we waited for a seat, even though it was nearly 10pm and it was still full-house.

We asked for recommendations, the guy said a string of terms that mean little to ignorant peasant-eaters like us, we were none the wiser but decided to go with it anyway. Turned out to be a darn good meal. Glad it did.

Silence Flash

I have been without my camera (the one I mostly used) for nearly a month. And I am turing very deprived, feeling rather handicapped. Forlorn. Morose. Irritated.

The worst thing is, after sending it for repair the second time (because the problem wasn't solved after the first round), I was told that they couldn't find anything wrong with my camera. This was after having performed all the necessary checks, apparently. At that moment, I felt I could do with killing someone with a snap of a camera: Click! Emit some lethal flash and silence the person.

I do know it's a tricky problem. The camera works fine indoor, but under bright conditions outdoor, the images appear overexposed. Which means whoever is examining my camera would not be able to find any problem from just fiddling with it at the work desk.

Perhaps it's time i look (again) for another camera. I want my camera back!

Split

Incredible India

"The burly Maulana, whose beard reached down almost to his rotund belly, then asked if I wanted some refreshment. I said I would like a Nescafe, which is the only kind of coffee usually available in northern India outside of the cities. 'No, no,' he said sternly. 'We have issued a fatwa forbidding the faithful from buying any American or British products.' I tried in vain to convince them that Nescafe is owned by Nestle, which is a Swiss company, but they had either never heard of Switzerland or could not see the difference. No, they said, wagging their fingers, as if they had caught me pulling a fast one, Nescafe is Angrezi. (In much of India the word Angrezi - English - simply means foreign or western.) Then something ocurred to the Maulana, who was also a member of the committee that issues Deobandi fatwas. 'I have thought of a legitimate loophole,' he announced with a smile. 'The fatwa only applies to products bought after 11 September. Does anyone here possess Nescafe that is older?' A student raised his hand. The mildewed sachet of instant coffee that he fetched from his room certainly pre-dated 9/11. It was one of the most satisfying coffees I have had."

- In Spite of the Gods: The Strange Rise of Modern India by Edward Luce

If you are interestd in India, politics or asian studies, or if you have always been fascinated or puzzled by India, then you should almost certainly read Edward Luce's In Spite of the Gods: The Strange Wise of Modern India. Luce provides a highly informative and thoughtful analysis of India in this book, which is peppered with anecdotes and careful selection of data. He writes lucidly and in a simple style. The result is a thoroughly informative piece of work that is also fun to read. All too often, books of this genre fall into the trap of either boring the reader with jargon and leaden analysis or with unexciting narratives. Not this book, however. I was never bored at any point of time reading it.

One reason why the book is such a delight has to be the subject matter itself - India. The largest democracy in the world is abound with contradictions and unique circumstances borne out of its history, its sheer diversity and the world view of Indians of their place in this world and in the larger Indian society. There are plenty of interesting facts revealed. After learning about them, you may concur with its tourism tagline 'Incredible India' with a renewed conviction.

The second reason has more to do with the writer and his craft. Luce is the Washington Bureau Chief of the Financial Times. Between 2001 and 2005 he was FT's South Asia bureau chief based in New Delhi. He therefore writes with some authority on the topic of India. More pertinently in my opinion, his journalistic background gives his writing much verve. His strength lies in his accessible writing and concise descriptions, which is a hallmark characteristic of a seasoned journalist. Devoid of dry, technical analyses, his is a book that can be enjoyed by anyone who is keen to have a broad fundamental understanding of India. It is for the same reason that I enjoy reading such type of non-fiction writing on politics and current affairs, written by those with a journalistic mind and hands-on insights. Thomas Friedman's From Beirut to Jerusalem comes to mind.

I happen to have both books, and I'm pretty sure I will be reading Edward Luce's book again. Here's another extract taken from the book:

"Quite by chance, my tour of Film City coincided with the presence of Amitabh Bachchan, India’s most revered film star, whose sixty-second birthday had just been celebrated in dozens of newspaper supplements. I was halfway through an interview with Sanjeevanee Kutty, the civil servant in charge of Film City, when her assistant rushed in. ‘Mr Bachchan is ready now,’ said the assistant. ‘Ready for what?’ I enquired. ‘Ready for his interview with you.’ This qualified as one of Bollywood’s more improbable little twists. Having no idea that Bachchan was in the vicinity, I had not requested an interview. Had I done so, it would have taken weeks of faxes and conversations with public relations agencies to secure even the ghost of a chance. Led by Kutty in her official white Ambassador, we piled into a cavalcade of cars and rushed to the set. Like most of Bachchan’s shoots, it was a commercial. Whenever you are in India, the chances are that if you close your eyes and throw a dart it will land on a billboard bearing Barchchan’s distinguished grey-bearded visage. Whether it is for Pepsi-Cola, Cadbury’s chocolate, Parker pens of Maruti cars, no amount of exposure seems to dilute his brand equity. On this occasion, he was staring in an advertisement for Dabur, a health-food chain."

Magical Sky

Whether it is pockets of clouds hanging on that vast sheet of blue, or pockets of blue streaming through the breaking clouds, or just the interminable blue sky which seems to stretch the universe, they fill my heart with a kind of calm that only nature and its magic is capable of inspiring.

I love clouds, the big blue sky, their endless formations and langurous energy. They cost nothing but bring so much delight.

Ramen & Asahi

Ippudo Singapore: its ramen impresses me not. As J said it, 'Can you imagine if we have queued for an hour and eaten this in the end?' I added: And luckily we only ordered a bowl.

All right, to be fair we only had the first item on the ramen menu. It was near closing time for the restaurant, we didn't have to queue, and most important it had beer. Asahi. So we chose Ippudo over Jones, the only two restaurants, i think, that were still open at this hour in Mandarin Gallery.

I couldn't take a second dinner, so I declined to order a bowl myself. Between the two of us, we had a bowl of ramen and 4 bottles of Asahi.

The ramen wasn't the only thing that didn't impress us. The choice of music that the resturant was playing was also conspicuously incongrous with the restaurant - its design, the food it serves, the ambient mood. We shook our heads.

At least, well, now we've been to Ippudo.

Unseen Moments #4: Be With You

When night falls
and the shops close,

when the streets are emptied
and the air turns chill,

when the chairs are turned
and the music is off,

when tired bodies are tempted by slumber
and souls by untold dreams,

when the ice-lemon tea has long finished
and the straw's bitten till
it's happily out of shape,

when we've talked
the same things over and again
and not getting any tired or bored -

I am just glad to have you by my side,
to be with you, see your smile, hear your laughter.

You with your flowing tresses
unfashionably out of place,
your slender frame covered
by your beige cardigan, my crumpled t-shirt
stained with your perfume -

I am just glad you are with me,
our hands clasped and our hearts beating to one,
all that matters is I have you by my side,
when night falls and that special moment dawns.

I see stars above

I remember the moment well. We were to set off at 11pm, our faces camoflagued (the great morale depressor), equipment on, reluctant bodies squatting by the side of the dirt track. The order to move would come next, then our tired bodies would nudge. This was the moment we had been dreading and absolutely detested: the start of zombie walking through the night till daylight, trudging through inhospitable terrain and fending off invisible undergrowth that obstructs and frustrates. It's an all too familiar process.

For now though, we had a rare few hours to rest. The sweltering heat during the day had finally given way to a more humane temperature under the cover of darkness. We were spread out on the grass patch in front of a disused block meant for troops training. Now and then pockets of chatter and laughter could be heard from the area. Most people, however, were just resting and trying to catch a few winks of sleep.

Like the others, I was lying on the grass and trying to catch some sleep. But no matter how I shut my mind or forced my eyes closed, sleep simply eluded me. I look up from my position once, and all I saw was a vast blue sky, illuminated by a galaxy of stars. I felt a little excited: when was the last time I was lying down and seeing a sky filled with stars?

Even though I was not in an enviable situation now, it was good to be able to see beauty, to see the wonders of nature. There were so many stars in the sky, and the ignorant me was wondering just how many stars could there be up there. Swept up in the hustle and bustle of everyday life, I have long not seen stars and nearly forgotten the joy of admiring them. This was a moment I knew I would remember.

As I continued staring into the vast space above me, I noticed one bright spot that was slowly but surely moving across the sky. A plane, I thought. Instantly, like how a television show or movie could transport one scene to another, I imagined myself seated on a plane, taking a window seat, staring down from miles and miles above ground. I recalled the times when I took the plane in the past year, and at that moment I yearned to be flying again. If only I could change position there and then, seated on the plane heading to a foreign destination, instead of lying on a grass patch waiting for a dreadful journey.

I was feeling wistful, and quite happy at that. The next time I am on the plane, I shall again recall that moment, staring out of the window and looking far below while doing so. I shall imagine that someone is lying on the grass far below, looking up at the tiny plane that is creeping across the black sky.

Unseen Moments #3: Love

"Holding each other’s gazes
like lonely hands across a field of dark,
we may call this love
for the crippling inability to define this,
as our solitudes rise and fall like wings
on a single butterfly,
each destination in time a gratifying flower."

‘What we may call this’ by Cyril Wong

Unseen Moments #2: Infinity

Unseen Moments #1: Angles and Size

I love this shot of the photographer being photographed.

Yearning for Coffee Break

In Transit #3: Homebound

In Transit #2: Evening Reflections

In Transit #1: Moving House

Missing Borough

I. Miss. Borough. Market!

See: In and Around Borough Market

Rijeka

"Like Opatija, much of Rijeka's architecture is reminiscent of the glory days of the Hapsburgs. But unlike Opatija, most of Rijeka's buildings haven't been renovated in the last century or so, giving it a seedy, gritty, past-its-prime feel. Avoid Rijeka if you can. However, since it's a major transportation hub, there's a good chance you'll pass through."

The advice was to 'avoid Rijeka if (we) can'. But we couldn't. It was late in the afternoon and we were hurrying to the bus stop to catch the (last?) bus. We had been walking the whole afternoon, taking in the beauty of the Plitvice lakes. Now, carrying our backpacks, we were making haste as the rain drummed down on our weary bodies.

As our trusty travel bible explains, Rijeka is a transportation hub which we need to get to in order to get to other towns. Zagreb is much further east, Pula and Rovinj are on the western coast, and Rijeka is somewhere in the middle. Time is not on our side, so we decided we shall spend the night in Rijeka before continuing our journey the next morning. In any case, we plan our journey by the day, so pretty much anything goes.



Arrival

It was 8 plus at night, and we finally arrived at Rijeka, but with a slight apprehension. I mean, the book's advice is 'to avoid Rijeka if you can'. That says something, doesn't it? As the bus navigates the fringe towards the city centre, I could feel the words of the guidebook coming alive. 'Past-its-prime', 'gritty' - these words were reverberating through the lifeless buildings, inanimate rail tracks, dilapidated houses and pitch-black streets that passed us by.

The echo of the words continued after we alighted the bus, but it was the 'seedy' part this time that rang through. Hungry and tired from a full day of journey, we wanted to find accommodation quickly. But the tourist information center was closed, and the computer directory (if I remember there was one) wasn't very helpful. As we stood pondering our options, the young girl sitting at the pub beside us accosted us. She had streaks of highlighted hair, and her company at the pub was a man many years her senior and probably old enough to be her father.

She came to us and offered us her parent's place for accommodation. We had concerns, and it was later that I realised my companions weren't comfortable with her, given her dubious credentials. Still, we followed her to her apartment to check out the place. I think before we reached her place though, we had already made up our mind that we would try other places. For we walked through a desolate street that was dimly lit (to be fair, most of the streets were like that), giving us the creeps and imagination to think of all reasons to flee the place. We were after all in a city that the travel bible advises its disciples to avoid.

Dodgy Fugitive Hideout



Suffice to say that we were very blessed to subsequently meet with a wonderful soul. Hungry, tired and faced with the prospect of not being able to find lodging, we finally managed to get a room of affordable price at a somewhat dodgy-looking motel which JG described as a 'dodgy fugitive hideout'. This was solely the result of a kind lady who is the staff of a hotel which we did not stay at because we could not afford it. Despite not becoming her customers, she helped us call the dodgy motel and reserved what later seemed to be the last available room (a family had arrived at the motel the same time as us but was turned away). Not only that, but she also helped us flag a taxi and gave the driver directions. We were totally impressed and grateful to the lady, who had tirelessly assisted us three Asians whom she could have ignored.

Highlights of staying at the dodgy fugitive hideout include a claustrophobic old-fashioned elevator that contributed to the dodgy vibes; JG using his limited polish vocabulary and colourful sign language to communicate with the matronly caretaker, who speaks not a word of English; boiling hot water using glasses heated in a mirowave; and eating whatever leftovers from the day to fill our stomachs. If it all sounds as if we were in a rather pathetic state, I guess we were to some extent. Even then i relished the experience and knew that I would remember that day for a long time. Five months down the road, I am writing this as if all the things had taken place only yesterday.

Check-out was early the following morning. Somehow, at the end of our trip, we all remarked that our holiday was shiong. We wanted to nuah and slack, but the trip was anything but. It was irony that I didn't mind though.

The next day

Having had a rough day yesterday, we agreed last night to have a proper breakfast, enjoy a cup of latte before we start the new day's journey. We so badly needed to recharge and pamper ourselves. Breakfast time was also when I could steal some time to take some quick snapshots of Rijeka. In the day, Rijeka looks just like other cities that we have been to or passed through. The buildings' architecture was reminiscent of an earlier era, and the scores of cafes injected much life and bustle into the city. This was after all the city centre, so it has much character and zest compared to the desolation and run-down images of other parts of the city.

We never planned to visit Rijeka, and indeed we only stayed for a night there. But boy, did it turn out to be an unforgettable experience. There's the uncertainty that inevitably accompanies a lack of planning for any trip, but this is also what provides the thrills and fun that would ultimately combine into making a lasting impression.

To the kind lady from the hotel whose name I now can't recall, THANK YOU so much. I hope you get promoted and take over the hotel and earn lots of money!


Artefact 1: damaged lift signal


Artefact 2: dodgy elevator


One of many stunning buildings


More like capitalist life or globalisation




Our breakfast: Toast and Latte/Capucino. Yum Yum.




Lots of cafes, but all had quite pricey menus


Blues Corner

chunky

Mum took up the helmet the other day and remarked: 'This is so heavy'.

I couldn't hide my grin.

I wonder what would be her reaction if she learnt that besides that grotesque chunk, there are tons of other chunky, detestable items that my poor head and delicate body have to support.

Make love, not war!