random shot

As seen from beneath.

Changi Airport

“As a boy, i had often found airports exciting because they were the closest thing around to the starship Enterprise, a cut-rate Adventure-land, Tomorrowland, and Fantasyland combined, rich in flashing screens and exotic costumes; now you can see the same kind on every other street corner in Paris, or Sydney, or Vancouver. The modern city is a place where everyone's a stranger, so it seems, on his way to somewhere else."

"Airports say a lot about a place because they are both a city's business card and its handshake; they tell us what a community yearns to be as well as what it really is (much like the people inside them, often, who are dressed up for the occasion, and worn ragged and bare by the experience)."

Pico Iyer, The Global Soul

Airport. n A tract of levelled land where aircraft can take off and land, especially one equipped with hard-surfaced landing strips, a control tower, hangars, facilities for passengers and cargo, and usually a customs house.
(Reader’s Digest Universal Dictionary)


There's something about Changi Airport that makes it enduringly charming - to a local like me, at least. It's a place that I've always enjoyed going to, in large part because of its special character and the vibes it emanates. Accolades notwithstanding, Changi Airport has a snazzy appeal that is closely related to its functional design. I especially delight in its broad walkways and abundance of space. Not being a frequent traveller myself, I am of course only refering to the parts of the airport within reach of non-travellers, who go there variously to send or receive friends and family members, study, luxuriate in its cozy atmosphere or, well, work.

The role of Changi Airport, as with other airports the world over, similarly lends it a certain timeless appeal. It's that one place on the island where one embarks an aeroplane and - legally and officially - leaves the city-state (as well as a dreary soul). That's as close as one can get to feel almost out of Singapore. Even a casual visitor is not immune to such feelings of surreality. After all, remove the barriers and dismantle the physical structure, and one would find that he is as close to being out of his country as the traveller who has just checked in. And as if to accentuate its specialness, Changi Airport is tucked away at the fringe of the island, modestly situated where distance provides a veneer of exclusivity.

Travelling by car along the ECP towards the airport, there's a strange, familiar feeling welling up within as the car nears the destination and moves at a constant speed. The straight road leading to the airport is the first sign that hits on you, telling you that you're about to reach the building; the immaculate trees and flowering bougainvillea that line the road come into view soon enough; and one gazes out of the window to steal a peak at the control tower, that iconic structure that is captured in countless number of postcards and magazines. It's a feeling that is somewhat tinged with a mix of nostalgia and wistfulness: after all, for many Singaporeans, this is a familiar route leading to a repository of memories.

photo-essay: mtb race

Something i had wanted to write about but just never got down to completing. I was at Tampines MTB trail some weeks ago (a Sunday morning) - not as a race competitior, but a supporter-cum-photographer for Jon who was taking part in the race. It goes without saying that I took lots of pictures.

When we arrived at around 10 a.m, the road leading to the MTB trail was already lined with cars, many of which spotted bicycle racks on them.

According to Jon, there were a lot more participants this year. Quite a number of cyclists were milling around in their bikes, warming up for the race. The otherwise bleak compound was awashed in a riotous kaleidoscope of colours, with cyclists of different builds spotting a myriad of jerseys and bicycles.

You can't miss the Red Bull tentage for sure. There were even young, lithesome girls of university-going age who walked around approaching people to give them a free Red Bull - but not before you name a benefit of the drink.

Personally, I never quite like the taste of Red Bull. But that's beside the point.

That's Jon securing his race number to the handlebar. Notice the shadows on the ground and the clear blue sky interspersed with pockets of clouds: the weather was to turn hotter as noon approaches.

I was scorched and parched moving around taking pictures. And it was only until the following day that I realised I was mildly sunburnt.

Participants of the Men Masters Category. They had been waiting for quite some time under the tentage beside where they are in this picture. Being at the front gives an obvious advantage, but it is only so far as one could maintain the lead from start to end.

Many of them were foreigners, who presumably would have experienced more advanced and scenic MTB trail routes in their native countries. Amongst them was one guy whose bicycle chain had snapped in the midst of his race, forcing him to withdraw. It must be devastating not to be able to complete the race, especially so if one had been training hard and looking forward to a good race! Sometimes circumstance and luck play a big role.


Race participants had to manoevure an upslope right at the start of the race. Better to take it slow than to stop pedaling halfway under the watchful eyes of onlookers and supporters alike, who were standing just a few arms' distance away at the side.


This photo could hardly convey the immensity of the cyclist's exhausting labouring. He's probably doing his second lap in this photo.

Meanwhile, supporters and friends of race participants gather at various spots on the hill where the MTB trail cuts and winds through. Most of them only cheered a solitary cheer (as did myself) when their friends cycled past. Seemed to me rather discouraging for the other cyclists - which, basically, include all the cyclists - who gritted their teeth and sweated it out only to cycle past totally passive onlookers.

Not many parents would encourage their kids to take up off-road riding, much less compete in a race. These tenacious kids here, barely bigger than the bikes they are riding, had their parents cheering them from the side.

I noticed that quite many of these kids had fathers who were competing in other race categories. Mostly, they were Caucasian families though.

A picture paints a thousand words, as the old saying goes. Many an intrepid small kid had to cycle up this upslope as did all the adult participants. When gravity proves too much for them to overcome, they got off, pushed their bike and continued the race to the finish.


It's always a delight to take photos of kids. Their endless antics and amusing expressions give one free rein to play with captions.

This boy here obviously wasn't interested in bicycles. But neither is he contented with what he's doing here, coz...


...no sooner had he started fiddling with the large sunglasses (his mum's, probably) than he grew bored with it. Yawwnnnn.


First thing that Jon did when he got to the open space after completing his race was to dump his muddy bike on the cold, hard ground.


A close-up of the extent of 'damage' to the bike. Any more mud clinging to the brakes and derailer and the bike is going to cease working properly.

Cyclists queuing up to have their bike (and themselves) washed. Each of them probably has his own race story to tell.

Both the cyclist and his bike getting a good wash-down here, with a helping hand from the Indian man who basically stood there the entire morning splashing water at bike after bike.

My ever-wandering eyes beamed with delight when i saw this woman walk past holding this almost display-worthy bike. I wasted no time in flashing out my camera. 'Click!'

I was later told that the bike was often spotted at other races. So, the owner of the bike is a veteran of cycling races!

New Look

The old template appears to have mysteriously disappeared. So here it is, a new look. I realised, long long ago, that i would do well with some knowledge of html. Having (still) no knowledge, i feel so useless and hampered. Hmph.

On another note, i like the white border that frames the pictures uploaded to blogger. Just like those that i sent for printing, it gives a polished finish to the picture, accentuating the subject and/or colours.

this birthday

My birthday comes and goes quietly each year, just the way I wish it to be. A couple of friends would unfailingly arrange to meet up, but quite apart from that, it usually passes by with nary a pause or disruption to my everyday routine. I don't throw parties, nor do I treat myself to something indulgent. If anything, I merely turn older, and boy, here's another reason to lament/whine/laugh at how we are surely getting old.

This year however, I have been blessed by gestures and gifts that friends showed towards me. The earliest took me by surprise completely. SP gave me an absolutely elegant-looking MP3 player which, try as he convinced otherwise, did not come cheaply. I had not suspected anything when he asked me whether I had any MP3 player (on the pretext of wanting to get one himself). He's one sly fellow, I must say.

Then on the eve of my birthday, Ad and L drove down to my place (without my knowledge), only to learn that at 11plus pm, I was still on the train going home from office. (Ad could be heard groaning in the phone when L called me!) This time I suspected something was amiss when L called me earlier to ask if I were leaving office soon. By pure coincidence, it was exactly midnight when they picked me up at the train station. We proceeded to the void deck of my block where we had beer and chatted for an hour or so. This despite that Ad was visibly dead tired and L had work the next morning. It was a gesture I appreciated deeply. Nothing beats meeting up with good friends over drinks and a chat.

Later in the night/day I recieved an sms from 10, all the way from Alaska. Enough said.

I also received a birthday card via snail mail from Josh, who belongs to the rare breed of friends who still sends Christmas cards by post every year. It came a few days late, and his cheap excuse was that he was undecided on which card to use. The card was a simple gesture and no matter its late arrival, a card via post is to me a simple but unmistakable gesture of thoughtful sincerity.

Coming at the end of K's three-week long birthday celebrations (haha!), I also met him and Jon for dinner earlier in the week before my birthday. As always, our conversations are riddled with jokes and irreverent comments (mostly from Jon).

All in all, a birthday is an occasion where one is reminded of friendships that one is blessed with. As someone who has always been comfortable with giving more than receiving (for to give more than to receive is to be blessed and content), I am humbled by the generosity of my friends.

Holy Cow

Dug out from my photo album. Meet my cow friend!

Photo courtesy of 1-0.

unfateful episode

Finally went kayaking today. But something totally unexpected happened. A guy standing at the river bank waved at me and beckoned me over. Naturally I couldn't just ignore him so i kayaked over. That proved to be a fatal move. The guy turned out to be part of a production crew who were doing some filming nearby. In less than a minute, he hastily explained and requested that i kayaked over when two well-known local TV personalities walked over - they were filming for a variety show and the TV personalities were approaching people to sample their food as part of their publicity efforts.

Given the bizzare situation - i mean, hello, kayaking and being stopped by a production crew who's doing filming? - I was too stunned to react. It didn't seem right to just ignore him and kayak away.

Soon after, said personalities came over with an entire crew with them. I acted accordingly, having been 'briefed' earlier. Then the TV personalities shouted for others who were kayaking nearby to come over, including my friend.

I hope this will not go on TV though i think it most likely would. Damn!

hair-less truth

You know you are entering a particular age, leaving the yesteryears of hippy youth behind, when topics like receding hairline and balding start creeping into your conversations with friends. Suddenly the Beijing 101 advertisements fronted by mediacorp artistes don't seem that funny or ridiculous anymore. No, they've become, what shall i say, relevant?

If wrinkles are an incriminating scar of lost youth for women, hair loss must be the equivalent for men. I don't think guys are bothered by wrinkles. Besides, it seems that people tend to observe wrinkles in women more than in men, hence guys aren't particularly concerned about it. And I can imagine having a paunch would be less traumatising than losing hair. After all, a paunch is popularly linked to lack of exercise and frequent beer drinking, which seem legitimate enough an excuse. But balding?

What sets balding apart is that, remedies notwithstanding, it appears to be something beyond one's control. I don't know about the science of balding, but i should think watching one's diet and lifestyle wouldn't have much of an impact on controlling hair loss, or does it? While a paunch can be hidden by judicious dressing, it's rather hard to conceal a balding crown. You can't be wearing a hat to work or social functions all the time.

That said, is there anything to feel embarrassed or worried about losing hair? For guys, losing hair is often associated with a drop in confidence and ego. Hair is a potent and visible symbol of vitality and youth. Hence losing hair appears to expose the unpalatable bald truth: one is losing one's youth. And as with many other things, there's always societal perceptions to blame. Guys lose sleep over receding hairline just as women do over developing wrinkles: they worry about what people think of them. It is not for nothing that advertisements on hair loss treatment (as with slimming, treating wrinkles, pimples etc) portray the 'before version' of a satisfied client in a most unflattering light, which is almost surely a gross exaggeration: hideous, repulsive, unattractive, these before-treatment pictures reinforce the fears of you and i who grapple with issues that affect one's self-confidence.

So, what inspired all that above commentary? Well, just the other day F and SP were talking about it. They are probably the last people amongst my friends who will lose confidence about themselves, so for now i don't think they are taking the issue of hair loss too seriously, though F said that he's stopped dyeing his hair for fear that his thinning hair might just become worse. As for me, well, i believe i haven't had to lose sleep over hair loss - yet.

tired but happy

It's been quite a week. I've been meaning to write about a few topics but never got down to doing it. Was busy doing other stuff instead, and was too tired at the end of the day to sit down and write.

I've never worked out so frequently in a short span of time before, maybe except during army, which is quite a different matter, of course. I ran thrice this week, the distance each time ranging from 3km to 8km. Also swam, played badminton, beach volleyball and frisbee. And I was going to kayak today except that I played my friend out and headed down to Comex instead. That proved a bad move: not only did i not get anything (ok, i had wanted to go look-see only), i was cursing and swearing as i wormed my way through hordes and hordes of people in Suntec City - specfically the areas within 500m radius of Comex exhibition hall. I swear i won't ever go again unless i have something in mind that i want to buy.

It's been a tiring week, and i'm going to bed right after finishing this. But i was also happily busy, no doubt because of the endorphins my body have been releasing. More running to come next week!

sunday night at walas

Sunday night, time being before 9pm, i found myself one of a handful of customers at walas. I hadn't expected that kind of crowd. But now i know.

Jo saw me - it's hard to not catch her attention - and i waved at her, before taking a seat at the other side away from the speakers. Good thing i managed to catch her in action - three songs, to be exact - before the band called it a day.

I have to agree with Tamk and W. It's absolutely wonderful now that walas has turned smoke-free. No more feeling like im in a smoke chamber. I can now enjoy a beer and the band in a smoke-free environment. Lovely!

Looking at the kwongs, I couldn't help but feel a little envious. Really, i've never seen any siblings hang out at a pub together. And they were so at ease in one another's company. When i asked D why she didn't want to go overseas for her studies, Tamk and W both cried out before she could utter a word. 'B'coz she's a baby!' The spontaneity of their response carried warmth and showed the level of closeness the sibilings share. Tamk said it half-smiling as she mimicked the cradling movement; W, like many an elder brother, spoke in a half-reproachful-half-resigned tone that only a concerned brother would.

Meanwhile, Jo's friend, Brian seemed to think that all of us at the table are only related to one another as friends. Introducing himself as Jo's fuck-buddy (at which point Jo would roll her eyes in helpless protest), he was very friendly and always smiling. At one point, he started going into some technical description of computers. But no, his line of work is far from dealing with 'hardware'. I was quite surprised to learn of his job, especially since he's working in Down Under.

If Jo starts performing regularly, perhaps i will find myself at walas more frequently - and getting two beers for the price of one. Coz, well, the set starts before 9pm. :)

July 28 Ride

Thankfully the weather was clear when we started the ride in the morning. Had it been raining, the trip probably wouldn't have materialised. (And perhaps K would have been content to go back to sleep!)

It did rain eventually, but only for the final stretch of 20km. By then each of us had covered a minimum decent 100km. I had been half hopeful that the impending rain might hold off till we reach our destination. But just like I've never won a single lucky draw my entire life, my hope was destined to bear no fruits.

The rain finally came, and it hit us with all the ferocious might Heaven could muster. I could barely see the road ahead as the relentless rain assaulted my face - and my glasses. And the headwind - it slowed Kenneth and I to a horrible crawl as we laboured uphill.

Yes, I did feel a little disappointed that we could not beat the rain to reach Sebana dry. But I knew i really could not ask for more. We started the ride with very good weather, and the rain - which was really just a matter of time - only came after our last rest-stop. After a while i felt refreshed cycling in the torrential rain. And I was glad that i wasn't cycling alone in the harsh weather, but had Kennethh's company: I felt that much safer and confident riding alongside and behind him (most of the time it was the latter). I remember telling him that it felt like we were doing some epic ride, two of us riding out a storm in a space so vast we were but two insignificant beings.

By comparison, Group 2 comprising of Mr Armstrong Jon himself and himself was way ahead of us. He might just be able to surge fast enough to exit the rain zone, except that I think the rain zone covered every plausible overland. Not that he needed a reason to cycle fast, but i'm sure the heavy rain gave an added impetus.

Quite unexpectedly, the best part of the ride came in the second day morning, when we did a leisurely ride in Sebana. Jon was in his complete cycling gear while Kenneth and I were in casual clothes, slippers included. K, as expected, was still in bed. (Later he refused to believe that we were out cycling in the morning!)

We probably cycled for about an hour, and what a most wonderful time it was! Besides venturing into a couple of small roads (only to find ourselves at a dead end) we also reached the opposite side of the river. We even took photos at the helipad, before riding down the meandering track. When the end seemed nowhere in sight, we turned back. The road now meanders in the opposite direction, and i challenged myself to recognise the turning points which i only passed through not long ago. I guess when one cycles slowly in the quiet countryside, one tends to find little mental tasks to occupy the mind. One also tends to become contemplative, for Man seems given to introspection often when in relative solitude.

It was all very leisurely and peaceful, cycling in the morning past stretches of unbroken foliage. One pedals on lightly, and before long the pedalling takes on a momentum that seems to keep one going on and on without consciousness of movement. Jon was cycling without his jersey, and that prompted Kenneth to remark how he's risking greater body exposure to pesky (aedes) mosquitoes. Well, Jon might well have replied that his velocity makes it a tall order for a mosquito to settle on him, much less suck his blood.

It's a different kind of enjoyment when the ride goes deliberately slow and relaxing, as compared to when one cycles with purpose on the road towards a known finality. (In the latter, one tends to ride fast and the sense of enjoyment doesn't quite come through on the go.) When one cycles slow amidst quiet surroundings, with no notion of destination in mind, one is less preoccupied with cycling. There's time to take in the tranquil sights and sounds, which, together with the sense of freedom that cycling inherently affords the rider, leave one feeling rejuvenated. That morning, i quietly savoured the process of slow riding: the smell of raw vegetation, the spaciousness of the place, the absence of crowds and enveloping bulidngs. For that brief period, time and other worldly concerns eluded my mind.




All of us grow older, but a few, a rare few, grow younger. The night before, K was officially elevated to that ripe old age of 21. He's right; the joke never ends. And why should it? Most people would love to be made the joke! And somehow, the joke never feels stale coming from Jon, who perpetually rolls out one hilarious punch line after another. ("Giraffe," he termed the broadcaster who didn't seem to have such a long neck till he uttered the word.) And thus marked the second night in a three-week long celebrations befitting of a young man who has come of age.

After a week's absence, I returned to office today with much dread. It must be a sign that this place isn't where i belong; not in the long run definitely.

After work, i took the train and alighted at Orchard station. I was determined to buy a book from Kino, never mind that i have so many books that i'm barely half-way through with reading. And buy a book i did. A non-fiction. I was tempted to get more, but it would be imprudent to spend more than i can finish reading the books. Regardless, i made a mental list of the titles that i'm going to get the next time - when they dangle the 20% or 30% discount.

Note to self: National Day is some two weeks away. There will be discounts offered by the big bookstores. Action beckons.

Because I wanted to visit Muji, i decided to walk over to Paragon. The shirts there are on sale, but the only ones left are the XL-sized. That's as good as saying all shirts are sold out.

I took the lift to the basement, my slightly rumbling stomach urging me to sniff out food. But instead of munchies, I was drawn by the music playing at That CD Shop. The A female singer was singing; her voice had a pristine quality, very serene and easy on the ears. I walked into the store, half-browsing and pretending to be looking for a CD, when in actual fact i was just there to enjoy the music.

Perhaps it is late already so they are playing soft and relaxing music. Not a few people walked into the store asking for the CD that is being played.

Starbucks is just across the music store, i realised. No wonder its patrons all seem so comfortable in their seats, as though they plan to while the night away.
Now I know where to go and chill over coffee at this hour the next time i am in town with friends.

Like the CO said, all of us are in different stages of life when we come back for reservist every year.

It's true. From being an undergrad when we had our first ICT to having graduated and started on the first job in the recent one, we are all moving on in different directions - albeit on the same broad trajectory called Life. Some of the guys have been working since they ORD, some have gone for further studies, while some have married.

But some things don't change. No matter how much we've aged, we still banter irreverently, as most guys do when they are by themselves. We make harmless but silly jokes at one another's expense, and we lament about the inefficiency of the army and the aimlessness of doing innumerous silly tasks.

And this is just one example of how NS men cope with the unpleasantness of training. We talk cock. Plently of cock talk. But at times, many of us also had serious discussions: about future plans, about unfortunate personal problems or dilemmas.