Visited a friend. We got to know each other during the time I taught in SMU. We got along fine and we shared many stories about us. However, our schedules never let us sit down for a good chat much.
Last Saturday, he invited Victor and I to tea at his place. (Interesting that I had to write "Victor and I" because the English Language dictates that I must come in at the end of a conjoined list. But you get the drift.) He lived in the outskirts of Newton/Orchard. His house was built in 1927 on a plot of land at the top of a little hill.
There was a main house and a garage. He moved out of the house and lived in the garage after customizing it into a quaint little house. Quite honestly, I've been to the homes of rich people but this friend is so understated about so many things. I never knew how rich he is and I probably will never want to know. It is not in my place or interest.
To preserve my friend's privacy and to cut the long story short, I am given a little glimpse of what it feels like to live in the lap of luxury. Quite honestly, I bet many people wouldn't mind living in that garage. (Actually, he told me that his garage turned house was featured in an architectural magazine some time ago.)
There!
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Monday, August 30, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Someone is jealous...
... that BHD got a get well video.
Ok, let me wish this someone a quick breaking free from his green eyed days.
Wow, looks like I am going green too. :)
Ok, let me wish this someone a quick breaking free from his green eyed days.
Wow, looks like I am going green too. :)
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Say a Little Prayer for You
BHD's got a little run in with green salad veggies.
Here's something to wish him a speedy recovery.
Here's something to wish him a speedy recovery.
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
Let it snow snow snow...
My friends staying in the US "snopocalypse" belt are going to face yet another snow/sleet storm in a few hours. There may be a couple or more feet of cold white stuff descending on them.
Many of them have found ways of getting around this. However, from the outside looking it, they seem to be facing a weather problem caused by a broken Christmas Carol record playing "Let it snow."
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow snow snow snow...
Cheer up, guys! Spring is coming!
Many of them have found ways of getting around this. However, from the outside looking it, they seem to be facing a weather problem caused by a broken Christmas Carol record playing "Let it snow."
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow snow snow snow...
Cheer up, guys! Spring is coming!
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Get well note to TSBHD
I read with horror that BHD slipped and fell and, in the process, fractured his ankle. (Let me check if it is the right or left ankle, though I'd think left as this man claims he has 40 left feet.)
Oh mi gawd! He broke his 41st leg, the right one! Poor guy. He was actually helping to steady a senior when he lost balance himself and went down.
I feel very sorry for him but I'm really glad he was wearing a pair of boots when he fell. I'd guess that the support from the boot allowed the break to be "clean" rather than comminuted (aka many fractured bone fragments, which is common in ankle fractures given the multiple bones that make up the ankle), though "severe," as his doctor has claimed.
True, ankle fractures are usually very severe and I hope BHD will take good care of himself and let the injury heal at its own time. No amount of rushing the recovery will do any good. The human ankles support so much weight that an improperly healed break could give future problems ranging from arthritis to muscluar and joint weaknesses to further - and more serious - fractures! I hope the caregivers have their tranquilizer guns to keep our "Energizer Bunny running on AC on the sly" in bed and at rest. That's the only way he can recover.
Well, being over 9000 miles away from him, the only thing I can do is to write to him and cheer him up a little. It seems to me that the seniors he looked after are also helping out by taking care of the sen(i)or-in-training too. Makes me feel better this way.
So, I need to unpack (sorry, BHD, on alluding to the packages again but I really did think of TSBHD before I read your blogposts!) what I meant by the initials TSBHD.
See, BHD takes pride to be in boots as far as he can help it. So, I've written to him last night to imagine that the cast he is wearing is also a boot, albeit a very hard one (which he, unfortunately, will never be able to break in). That's the idea! While we wear boots to protect our feet, the sturdier the boot, the more protection and support we get. BHD just got the sturdiest boot.
So, if he were to put on one left boot and wear the cast on the right foot, he is now Temporarily Semi-Booted Harley Dude. There you go.
Don't nitpick on terminology on why it is not THBHD - the half-booted... Half is simply not correct. He can have a knee high Wesco boot on his left leg and a knee high Hosco (Hospital Company) boot on his right foot - semi, it is.
BHD, get well soon!
Oh mi gawd! He broke his 41st leg, the right one! Poor guy. He was actually helping to steady a senior when he lost balance himself and went down.
I feel very sorry for him but I'm really glad he was wearing a pair of boots when he fell. I'd guess that the support from the boot allowed the break to be "clean" rather than comminuted (aka many fractured bone fragments, which is common in ankle fractures given the multiple bones that make up the ankle), though "severe," as his doctor has claimed.
True, ankle fractures are usually very severe and I hope BHD will take good care of himself and let the injury heal at its own time. No amount of rushing the recovery will do any good. The human ankles support so much weight that an improperly healed break could give future problems ranging from arthritis to muscluar and joint weaknesses to further - and more serious - fractures! I hope the caregivers have their tranquilizer guns to keep our "Energizer Bunny running on AC on the sly" in bed and at rest. That's the only way he can recover.
Well, being over 9000 miles away from him, the only thing I can do is to write to him and cheer him up a little. It seems to me that the seniors he looked after are also helping out by taking care of the sen(i)or-in-training too. Makes me feel better this way.
So, I need to unpack (sorry, BHD, on alluding to the packages again but I really did think of TSBHD before I read your blogposts!) what I meant by the initials TSBHD.
See, BHD takes pride to be in boots as far as he can help it. So, I've written to him last night to imagine that the cast he is wearing is also a boot, albeit a very hard one (which he, unfortunately, will never be able to break in). That's the idea! While we wear boots to protect our feet, the sturdier the boot, the more protection and support we get. BHD just got the sturdiest boot.
So, if he were to put on one left boot and wear the cast on the right foot, he is now Temporarily Semi-Booted Harley Dude. There you go.
Don't nitpick on terminology on why it is not THBHD - the half-booted... Half is simply not correct. He can have a knee high Wesco boot on his left leg and a knee high Hosco (Hospital Company) boot on his right foot - semi, it is.
BHD, get well soon!
Saturday, August 01, 2009
She
She may be the face I can't forget
The trace of pleasure or regret
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay
She ambled along the airplane aisle and began searching for seat 37F. That was the seat beside me and I was certainly not excited about having to be cramped in my little aisle seat in a Boeing 747-400 after losing the space beside me. Being somewhat more generous than I normally am, I looked at her and asked, "37F?"
"Yeah."
"You're here then." I pointed to the seat beside me.
This is my first impression of She. Definitely not a white woman; maybe hispanic, maybe Asian. I'm not too sure. But certainly not a big woman. More Asian, if you ask me to characterise her.
She got past the folks trying to shove their bags into the overhead compartments while I grudgingly removed my safety belt and got up from my seat.
She may be the song that summer sings
May be the chill that autumn brings
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day
She carried her carry on handbag - not exactly a very small one - and then settled into her seat.
"I hope these two seats are empty," said She, pointing to 37D and 37E. "Then we can share the four seats between us."
"I heard the plane is full." I was unusually unhopeful.
"Let's hope," she said.
"We'll know once they say 'Cabin doors closed'," I replied rather nonchalantly.
A chatty one. Dear god, is this a joke? It's going to be 19 hours of... I think I'll go along. Anyway, there is nothing more exciting that disturbing that bitch sitting in front of me.
She may be the beauty or the beast
May be the famine or the feast
May turn each day into a heaven or a hell
She may be the mirror of my dreams
The smile reflected in a stream
She may not be what she may seem
Inside her shell
We got the four seats and she happily moved to 37E, leaving a seat between us. There was distance for comfort and proximity for noisy conversation.
"My name is She," she introduced herself. (For her privacy, I oughtn't name her.)
"I am He," I said.
"I'm from Florida," said She. "I'm flying home to Jakarta. I'm going home for the first time after I married to America."
"Yeah, right, Miss Saigon," I cynically thought. Maybe I should ask her how she fished the rich husband. Instead, my politically correct civil servant persona kicked in. "Oh, Florida. I heard it's a nice place. And wow! It must be a pain flying all the way to Jakarta."
"I started at Fort Lauradale," said she. And she began regaling me with her travails since she began her journey in Florida, including how she had to run from terminal to terminal to make the flight. An earlier thunderstorm in the New York/New Jersey area apparently caused airports to shut down for about 2 hours and planes were backlogged.
"My journey actually started at noon, when I had to check out from the hotel," I countered, not wishing to seem that I was in any better shape. Oddly, it was as though I was trying to find an excuse for bad behaviour.
The flight took off and we had our meals, we napped, we chatted and she told me her lifestory somewhat.
She was not as bad as I had thought. Oddly, her generosity was amazing. She was a "sharer", a "giver" of sorts.
"I live in a big house in Florida. 5 rooms... 4000 over square feet," She proudly announced, right after telling me - a complete stranger less than 30 minutes ago - that I should visit her in Florida and stay at her place when I visit.
And then she started showing me digital photographs off her digital camera of her palace. I vaguely recall the house has a pinkish exterior and it looks huge.
"My husband and I used to live in an even larger house. One acre...," She reminisced as she began describing her heaven. "But he lost everything. You know Madoff?"
I'd be damned if I know not of Madoff.
"He invested all his life savings, our retirement money, millions, with him. He lost everything. You know, he has nothing now."
She described how he invested with Madoff because of "insider ties" and how all these promises of a worry-free retirement were dashed when Madoff was exposed as a fraud. And I thought I would never meet someone to be swimming in Madoff's circles.
I thought I saw tears shimmering in her eyes but She was so strong.
She who always seems so happy in a crowd
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud
No one's allowed to see them when they cry
She may be the love that cannot hope to last
May come to me from shadows of the past
That I'll remember till the day I die
"You know, he went crazy when she died. His friends all said that he married someone really beautiful, but now, he is married to someone who is really good for him."
She talked of how she entered his life after he lost his first wife to cancer. He lost the plot and was womanising and drinking his life away. She came in and turned him back to his home and his family. Her step children are grateful to her role in bringing the family back together again. She gained their acceptance through sheer grit and determination.
Such strength of character need not be said. These are private traits that an outsider looking in must discern and appreciate. And who knows what it took her to uproot herself from Indonesia to marry an Italian-American 8 years ago and live in the US. And worse, inherit a ready family, when at 40, she was somewhat past her productive years.
She asked me to guess her age. Ladies, never ask me to do that, because I'm damned good at that. If you wanna feel good about yourself, don't ask. I told her, 40s? She said I was very good and said she was 48. I politely told her I would have guessed 42. A white lie, but it probably made her day.
Then she half-bitterly and half-proudly said she is a stepmother of a few children and a grandmother of a few (I think 4) kids. The Chinese use taste to describe certain feelings and perhaps, only she would know the exact taste of that pride.
Her strength of character lay not just in how she gave up her job with a multi-national company to become a stay home wife who cooks daily for her husband and have dinner parties ever so often for her friends and family. "You know, I always include his dead wife's mother every time. She's 82 and we look after her." I think this says it all.
Our conversation went on for many hours, albeit intermittently. She gave me her recipes for southern Italian cooking while I told her where to eat when she visits Singapore. We exchanged contacts and we had a really fun time together. I promised to visit her sometime soon.
And from her, one can tell that her 62 year old husband is fully appreciative of her. Perhaps no one better than him will appreciate the closing stanza of his second life that he has decided to spend with this wonderful woman.
She may be the reason I survive
The why and wherefore I'm alive
The one I'll care for through the rough in ready years
Me, I'll take her laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I've got to be
The meaning of my life is she
She, oh she
My blessings to them.
The trace of pleasure or regret
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay
She ambled along the airplane aisle and began searching for seat 37F. That was the seat beside me and I was certainly not excited about having to be cramped in my little aisle seat in a Boeing 747-400 after losing the space beside me. Being somewhat more generous than I normally am, I looked at her and asked, "37F?"
"Yeah."
"You're here then." I pointed to the seat beside me.
This is my first impression of She. Definitely not a white woman; maybe hispanic, maybe Asian. I'm not too sure. But certainly not a big woman. More Asian, if you ask me to characterise her.
She got past the folks trying to shove their bags into the overhead compartments while I grudgingly removed my safety belt and got up from my seat.
She may be the song that summer sings
May be the chill that autumn brings
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day
She carried her carry on handbag - not exactly a very small one - and then settled into her seat.
"I hope these two seats are empty," said She, pointing to 37D and 37E. "Then we can share the four seats between us."
"I heard the plane is full." I was unusually unhopeful.
"Let's hope," she said.
"We'll know once they say 'Cabin doors closed'," I replied rather nonchalantly.
A chatty one. Dear god, is this a joke? It's going to be 19 hours of... I think I'll go along. Anyway, there is nothing more exciting that disturbing that bitch sitting in front of me.
She may be the beauty or the beast
May be the famine or the feast
May turn each day into a heaven or a hell
She may be the mirror of my dreams
The smile reflected in a stream
She may not be what she may seem
Inside her shell
We got the four seats and she happily moved to 37E, leaving a seat between us. There was distance for comfort and proximity for noisy conversation.
"My name is She," she introduced herself. (For her privacy, I oughtn't name her.)
"I am He," I said.
"I'm from Florida," said She. "I'm flying home to Jakarta. I'm going home for the first time after I married to America."
"Yeah, right, Miss Saigon," I cynically thought. Maybe I should ask her how she fished the rich husband. Instead, my politically correct civil servant persona kicked in. "Oh, Florida. I heard it's a nice place. And wow! It must be a pain flying all the way to Jakarta."
"I started at Fort Lauradale," said she. And she began regaling me with her travails since she began her journey in Florida, including how she had to run from terminal to terminal to make the flight. An earlier thunderstorm in the New York/New Jersey area apparently caused airports to shut down for about 2 hours and planes were backlogged.
"My journey actually started at noon, when I had to check out from the hotel," I countered, not wishing to seem that I was in any better shape. Oddly, it was as though I was trying to find an excuse for bad behaviour.
The flight took off and we had our meals, we napped, we chatted and she told me her lifestory somewhat.
She was not as bad as I had thought. Oddly, her generosity was amazing. She was a "sharer", a "giver" of sorts.
"I live in a big house in Florida. 5 rooms... 4000 over square feet," She proudly announced, right after telling me - a complete stranger less than 30 minutes ago - that I should visit her in Florida and stay at her place when I visit.
And then she started showing me digital photographs off her digital camera of her palace. I vaguely recall the house has a pinkish exterior and it looks huge.
"My husband and I used to live in an even larger house. One acre...," She reminisced as she began describing her heaven. "But he lost everything. You know Madoff?"
I'd be damned if I know not of Madoff.
"He invested all his life savings, our retirement money, millions, with him. He lost everything. You know, he has nothing now."
She described how he invested with Madoff because of "insider ties" and how all these promises of a worry-free retirement were dashed when Madoff was exposed as a fraud. And I thought I would never meet someone to be swimming in Madoff's circles.
I thought I saw tears shimmering in her eyes but She was so strong.
She who always seems so happy in a crowd
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud
No one's allowed to see them when they cry
She may be the love that cannot hope to last
May come to me from shadows of the past
That I'll remember till the day I die
"You know, he went crazy when she died. His friends all said that he married someone really beautiful, but now, he is married to someone who is really good for him."
She talked of how she entered his life after he lost his first wife to cancer. He lost the plot and was womanising and drinking his life away. She came in and turned him back to his home and his family. Her step children are grateful to her role in bringing the family back together again. She gained their acceptance through sheer grit and determination.
Such strength of character need not be said. These are private traits that an outsider looking in must discern and appreciate. And who knows what it took her to uproot herself from Indonesia to marry an Italian-American 8 years ago and live in the US. And worse, inherit a ready family, when at 40, she was somewhat past her productive years.
She asked me to guess her age. Ladies, never ask me to do that, because I'm damned good at that. If you wanna feel good about yourself, don't ask. I told her, 40s? She said I was very good and said she was 48. I politely told her I would have guessed 42. A white lie, but it probably made her day.
Then she half-bitterly and half-proudly said she is a stepmother of a few children and a grandmother of a few (I think 4) kids. The Chinese use taste to describe certain feelings and perhaps, only she would know the exact taste of that pride.
Her strength of character lay not just in how she gave up her job with a multi-national company to become a stay home wife who cooks daily for her husband and have dinner parties ever so often for her friends and family. "You know, I always include his dead wife's mother every time. She's 82 and we look after her." I think this says it all.
Our conversation went on for many hours, albeit intermittently. She gave me her recipes for southern Italian cooking while I told her where to eat when she visits Singapore. We exchanged contacts and we had a really fun time together. I promised to visit her sometime soon.
And from her, one can tell that her 62 year old husband is fully appreciative of her. Perhaps no one better than him will appreciate the closing stanza of his second life that he has decided to spend with this wonderful woman.
She may be the reason I survive
The why and wherefore I'm alive
The one I'll care for through the rough in ready years
Me, I'll take her laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I've got to be
The meaning of my life is she
She, oh she
My blessings to them.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
眼泪成诗 Tears To Poems
I'm going to dedicate this to all those who are recently out of love. I particularly love the first stanza. The opening lines of describing the recovered wounds as roses and the reincarnation of teardrops into raindrops were particularly poetic.
<<眼泪成诗>>
我已经 已经把我伤口化作玫瑰
我的泪水 已经变成雨水早已轮回
我已经 已经把对白留成了永远
忘了天色 究竟是黑是灰
[I have already turned my wounds into roses
My teardrops have already reincarnated into raindrops
I have already turned our conversations into eternity
Forgotten if the skies were black or grey]
*分手伤了谁 谁把他变美
我的眼泪写成了诗已无所谓
让你再回味 字不醉人人自醉
因为回忆总是美*
[*Who was hurt when we parted ways Who made him look noble
My tears have turned into poems for I am past caring
If you remininsce it is not our words but your thoughts making yourself drunk
Because memories are the most beautiful*]
我已经 已经把绝情变成了恭维
因为不配 你就忽然自卑说声失陪
我已经 已经把沉默变成了忏悔
无路可退 只能无言以对
[I have already turned my unfeeling into mutual respect
Because of our unequal status you suddenly feel inferior and said goodbye
I have already turned my taciturn into remorse
With no where to back off I can only face everything with silence]
Repeat **
分手伤了谁 谁把他变美
我的眼泪写成了诗已是无所谓
让你再回味 字不醉人人自醉
你的品味总是美
[Who was hurt when we parted ways Who made him look noble
My tears have turned into poems for I am past caring
If you remininsce it is not our words but your thoughts making yourself drunk
Because your choice had been for the most beautiful]
<<眼泪成诗>>
我已经 已经把我伤口化作玫瑰
我的泪水 已经变成雨水早已轮回
我已经 已经把对白留成了永远
忘了天色 究竟是黑是灰
[I have already turned my wounds into roses
My teardrops have already reincarnated into raindrops
I have already turned our conversations into eternity
Forgotten if the skies were black or grey]
*分手伤了谁 谁把他变美
我的眼泪写成了诗已无所谓
让你再回味 字不醉人人自醉
因为回忆总是美*
[*Who was hurt when we parted ways Who made him look noble
My tears have turned into poems for I am past caring
If you remininsce it is not our words but your thoughts making yourself drunk
Because memories are the most beautiful*]
我已经 已经把绝情变成了恭维
因为不配 你就忽然自卑说声失陪
我已经 已经把沉默变成了忏悔
无路可退 只能无言以对
[I have already turned my unfeeling into mutual respect
Because of our unequal status you suddenly feel inferior and said goodbye
I have already turned my taciturn into remorse
With no where to back off I can only face everything with silence]
Repeat **
分手伤了谁 谁把他变美
我的眼泪写成了诗已是无所谓
让你再回味 字不醉人人自醉
你的品味总是美
[Who was hurt when we parted ways Who made him look noble
My tears have turned into poems for I am past caring
If you remininsce it is not our words but your thoughts making yourself drunk
Because your choice had been for the most beautiful]
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Quasi big balls
Tackled the tree top walk today with a PE teacher friend. Here are some facts and true occurrences.
1. We walked a total of 7.6 km, mainly on forest trek, for a 250 m tree top suspension bridge walk. We've decided that a huge amount of persuasion will be required to get us to go there again. For example, a new car park built along the road at about the 2.5 km mark of the trail could be a start.
2. There is a free public carpark for trail visitors so you can park your cars at the start point and then walk your way in. And perhaps have a couple of water coolers and a small toilet/changing room at the car park. The water source and changing room will be well appreciated.
3. Signages at some of the points could be clearer and more pronunced. We had to make a few guesses along the way. And good for me, my sense of direction, even in the forest, served me well.
4. National Parks should consider a one-way hourly bus ride out from the start of the trails to the car park. Folks with jelly legs after traversing the roof top walk would really appreciate the gesture.
5. There is a steep tarmac-ed part of the trail which precedes the tree top walk. Wow, that was a prelude to jello your legs before your fear of heights do you in on the one-man wide suspension bridge.
Personally:
6, I got abrasions on my palms twisting dry my little towel, which was frequently soaked wet with my sweat. If I don't wring it dry, I can't get it to clean any more sweat off me.
7. My inner thighs are abraded. Man, they hurt when I walk and I had to work around the pain by walking somewhat bow-legged. Thereby, the title of this post.
Perhaps there was too much anticipation and too much expectation from the two of us at the onset of the trip. In the end, we had some sun (fortunately much less than feared) and too much walking. The walk wasn't all that fun, cos there were many up and down slopes and the need to retrace our steps back to the starting point dragged out the experience. The lack of anything really fresh on the way out added to the boredom of the walk.
Durian, rambutan, and jackfruit trees were fruiting like crazy. There were monkeys, squirrels, birds, butterflies, moths, salamanders, and whatever else saw us but we may not have seen them. There were surprisingly few, or no, mosquitoes and bugs.
For people undaunted still, my advice would be as follows:
1. Bring a towel for wiping sweat, especially if you perspire a lot.
2. Dry fit or no go. My dry fit shirt was fine but my cotton bermudas were so laden with sweat midway into the journey, I couldn't wait to get out of them.
3. Bring clothes to change out after the trip. Toilet and changing room or not, you'll appreciate this.
4. Forget the camera or any bags. If you can, travel light.
5. You'll reach the Ranger Station twice (and man, would I love a posting there! One of the guys there had an autographed Timberland boot. Hot!) and each time, use the facilities. Drink some water the first time around and drink up as much as you need before you make your way out. You tend to lose more water out than in, especially if you visit in the morning. The sun simply gets hotter and you sweat more.
6. Don't eat or drink on your walk. The monkeys we saw were observing us for food. I think they are still rather reliant on human offerings (it's illegal to feed them), especially during meal times.
7. Keep an eye for freshly dropped durians. You might just get a free fruit.
Have fun!
1. We walked a total of 7.6 km, mainly on forest trek, for a 250 m tree top suspension bridge walk. We've decided that a huge amount of persuasion will be required to get us to go there again. For example, a new car park built along the road at about the 2.5 km mark of the trail could be a start.
2. There is a free public carpark for trail visitors so you can park your cars at the start point and then walk your way in. And perhaps have a couple of water coolers and a small toilet/changing room at the car park. The water source and changing room will be well appreciated.
3. Signages at some of the points could be clearer and more pronunced. We had to make a few guesses along the way. And good for me, my sense of direction, even in the forest, served me well.
4. National Parks should consider a one-way hourly bus ride out from the start of the trails to the car park. Folks with jelly legs after traversing the roof top walk would really appreciate the gesture.
5. There is a steep tarmac-ed part of the trail which precedes the tree top walk. Wow, that was a prelude to jello your legs before your fear of heights do you in on the one-man wide suspension bridge.
Personally:
6, I got abrasions on my palms twisting dry my little towel, which was frequently soaked wet with my sweat. If I don't wring it dry, I can't get it to clean any more sweat off me.
7. My inner thighs are abraded. Man, they hurt when I walk and I had to work around the pain by walking somewhat bow-legged. Thereby, the title of this post.
Perhaps there was too much anticipation and too much expectation from the two of us at the onset of the trip. In the end, we had some sun (fortunately much less than feared) and too much walking. The walk wasn't all that fun, cos there were many up and down slopes and the need to retrace our steps back to the starting point dragged out the experience. The lack of anything really fresh on the way out added to the boredom of the walk.
Durian, rambutan, and jackfruit trees were fruiting like crazy. There were monkeys, squirrels, birds, butterflies, moths, salamanders, and whatever else saw us but we may not have seen them. There were surprisingly few, or no, mosquitoes and bugs.
For people undaunted still, my advice would be as follows:
1. Bring a towel for wiping sweat, especially if you perspire a lot.
2. Dry fit or no go. My dry fit shirt was fine but my cotton bermudas were so laden with sweat midway into the journey, I couldn't wait to get out of them.
3. Bring clothes to change out after the trip. Toilet and changing room or not, you'll appreciate this.
4. Forget the camera or any bags. If you can, travel light.
5. You'll reach the Ranger Station twice (and man, would I love a posting there! One of the guys there had an autographed Timberland boot. Hot!) and each time, use the facilities. Drink some water the first time around and drink up as much as you need before you make your way out. You tend to lose more water out than in, especially if you visit in the morning. The sun simply gets hotter and you sweat more.
6. Don't eat or drink on your walk. The monkeys we saw were observing us for food. I think they are still rather reliant on human offerings (it's illegal to feed them), especially during meal times.
7. Keep an eye for freshly dropped durians. You might just get a free fruit.
Have fun!
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Recuperation
It's week 2 of being officially off all work. During this period, I have gone swimming, gone for long walks, cooked up one storm, watched a lot of television, slept a lot.
I guess I'm servicing a debt of some sort. Few people can imagine how tired their bodies are until they can finally take a breather (without money worries). Retirement is way too late. By the time one waits for retirement, one's body is crippled; it is ravaged beyond repair, waiting to be condemned.
I begin to see the wonders of a time out half way into a person's career. Many people wait for something tragic to take stock of their lives. I take stock every day. Especially when you live a somewhat tragic life anyhow.
Ok, I'm a drama-mama but hey, I've a right to live my kind of life. I'm not a pest to society. In fact, I contribute by passing on knowledge. I share my joys and over here, I talk about my life and how things should be lived.
One of the bloggers I read, BHD, talks about his life and each and every one of his blog posts end with some kind of urging to tell people life is short, do something they should or deserve. He is a well-balanced man. Many other people whose blogs I read also have this trait except that they have been unconsciously or subconsciously tacit about it.
Writing a blog is an exercise where one uses or abuses words to restore balance in their lives. Logophiles or wordsmiths, you call them. Just like people swim, paint, dress up, go to high teas or even go for retail therapy, they are doing something that they hope can restore balance in their lives. Some people I know do more than one of those activities.
Alas, there could be adverse effects: some people shop too much, for instance. But such extremes also suggest that these people's lives are much worse than they would admit. Neither would we cut them the slack they need to find a balance. So, in their own time and space, they need to find their means of restoring that balance.
While work and money are important, keeping oneself sane is of a higher priority.
Life is short: Live it like my bud, BHD.
I guess I'm servicing a debt of some sort. Few people can imagine how tired their bodies are until they can finally take a breather (without money worries). Retirement is way too late. By the time one waits for retirement, one's body is crippled; it is ravaged beyond repair, waiting to be condemned.
I begin to see the wonders of a time out half way into a person's career. Many people wait for something tragic to take stock of their lives. I take stock every day. Especially when you live a somewhat tragic life anyhow.
Ok, I'm a drama-mama but hey, I've a right to live my kind of life. I'm not a pest to society. In fact, I contribute by passing on knowledge. I share my joys and over here, I talk about my life and how things should be lived.
One of the bloggers I read, BHD, talks about his life and each and every one of his blog posts end with some kind of urging to tell people life is short, do something they should or deserve. He is a well-balanced man. Many other people whose blogs I read also have this trait except that they have been unconsciously or subconsciously tacit about it.
Writing a blog is an exercise where one uses or abuses words to restore balance in their lives. Logophiles or wordsmiths, you call them. Just like people swim, paint, dress up, go to high teas or even go for retail therapy, they are doing something that they hope can restore balance in their lives. Some people I know do more than one of those activities.
Alas, there could be adverse effects: some people shop too much, for instance. But such extremes also suggest that these people's lives are much worse than they would admit. Neither would we cut them the slack they need to find a balance. So, in their own time and space, they need to find their means of restoring that balance.
While work and money are important, keeping oneself sane is of a higher priority.
Life is short: Live it like my bud, BHD.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Crepes
Swissotel The Stamford's Out of the Pan serves really nice crepes. A close friend and dear mentor and I had our tea there today. We were both very delighted with the food and the discreet service. We had a nice table beside the fountain and had a great time catching up.
Saturday, April 04, 2009
Through Another's Eyes
A wonder of the internet is probably the fact that you get to see through another's eyes.
Today, I realised I saw for the fourth year running the cherry blossoms in Washington DC.
The flowers are beautiful, like the soul of the person who has unfailingly and unselfishly posted the pictures for all of us to admire.
How wonderful is that!
Today, I realised I saw for the fourth year running the cherry blossoms in Washington DC.
The flowers are beautiful, like the soul of the person who has unfailingly and unselfishly posted the pictures for all of us to admire.
How wonderful is that!
Friday, March 27, 2009
For Lucy
Lucy, an Akita bitch, belonging to a couple of my friends in NJ died of cancer last Boxing Day. She was 10.
If Lucy could talk, she'll make a fine lady. She's always so friendly and agreeable. She used to leave my pants all covered with doggie hair whenever she saw me. Bob used to be so apologetic - I'll wipe them off, he'll say - but I got past the initial discomfort and never looked back. Lucy was simply Lucy. She pressed her body against people's legs as her way of hugging. And she loved giving hugs.
Lucy was also exceptionally well-behaved. Her great manners can be seen at the dinner table. Despite her eagerness to get scraps off the table, she can sit and wait. That is one amazing thing that I never seen dogs do, at least not up close. She loved it when I spirited scraps off the table and she'd take those pieces off my hand, making sure that she never bit me.
I was really impressed when Lucy licked the plates clean after our dinner. Small wonder the dishwasher always delivered clean plates after washing. Lucy had done half the job for it!
What left the most indelible impression on me was Lucy's penchant for mint. She used to eat toothpaste because she dug mint. Till I introduced her to Wrigley's mint sweets. She'd eagerly answer my calls because of the mints, I guess. It was hard doing rationing, especially when she would look expectantly at you, hoping that you'd acquiesce and slip her another mint. Hearing her chew on those mints was another wonder altogether.
Even though our contact was just a few days, Lucy left a deep impression. I look back at the days I was a guest at my friends' and she'd be one of the highlights.
Lucy's definitely in doggie heaven now. I was told my friends will be adopting another Akita. But Lucy will always have a very special place in my heart, too.
If Lucy could talk, she'll make a fine lady. She's always so friendly and agreeable. She used to leave my pants all covered with doggie hair whenever she saw me. Bob used to be so apologetic - I'll wipe them off, he'll say - but I got past the initial discomfort and never looked back. Lucy was simply Lucy. She pressed her body against people's legs as her way of hugging. And she loved giving hugs.
Lucy was also exceptionally well-behaved. Her great manners can be seen at the dinner table. Despite her eagerness to get scraps off the table, she can sit and wait. That is one amazing thing that I never seen dogs do, at least not up close. She loved it when I spirited scraps off the table and she'd take those pieces off my hand, making sure that she never bit me.
I was really impressed when Lucy licked the plates clean after our dinner. Small wonder the dishwasher always delivered clean plates after washing. Lucy had done half the job for it!
What left the most indelible impression on me was Lucy's penchant for mint. She used to eat toothpaste because she dug mint. Till I introduced her to Wrigley's mint sweets. She'd eagerly answer my calls because of the mints, I guess. It was hard doing rationing, especially when she would look expectantly at you, hoping that you'd acquiesce and slip her another mint. Hearing her chew on those mints was another wonder altogether.
Even though our contact was just a few days, Lucy left a deep impression. I look back at the days I was a guest at my friends' and she'd be one of the highlights.
Lucy's definitely in doggie heaven now. I was told my friends will be adopting another Akita. But Lucy will always have a very special place in my heart, too.
Friday, March 06, 2009
The Recession in Pictures
Newsweek has done a great article comparing the current recession with past recessions.
Particularly interesting is their use of graphics. As they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. Like graphic porn. Except financial depression pics are kind of "porn-exciting" to innocent bystanders like me, though generally not at all invigorating. The pics make me review my values and my tolerance for risk, which I am not willing to divulge.
In this context, the two pictures "The Recession Rebound", where it attempts to show none is in sight yet, and "Big, Bad Bears", where it compares how the current, ongoing recession is the next worst to the Great Depression, are probably worth two million Diazapam, I mean, jitters. Ok, TF will say "Take two Vicodin and call him tomorrow" but until you put key to lock (still on TF, that is), how can throwing "lousy wood into the fire" put the fire out? Not only do you end up feeding the fire, you choke from the noxious fumes.
Ah, but commonsense has long gone into the Great Depression since... Probligo would be an authority to write on this here.
Anyway, keep your money safe. Keep it in your pillow. Better yet, shred it and keep it in your pillow. And then join the KGB - they'll teach you how to reconsititute shredded papers; their agents successfully stole secrets by doing that during some espionage operation during the Cold War. Al's probably running one big clandestine ops in the deep mountains already.
Man, I'm bored. Time for more shopping?
Particularly interesting is their use of graphics. As they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. Like graphic porn. Except financial depression pics are kind of "porn-exciting" to innocent bystanders like me, though generally not at all invigorating. The pics make me review my values and my tolerance for risk, which I am not willing to divulge.
In this context, the two pictures "The Recession Rebound", where it attempts to show none is in sight yet, and "Big, Bad Bears", where it compares how the current, ongoing recession is the next worst to the Great Depression, are probably worth two million Diazapam, I mean, jitters. Ok, TF will say "Take two Vicodin and call him tomorrow" but until you put key to lock (still on TF, that is), how can throwing "lousy wood into the fire" put the fire out? Not only do you end up feeding the fire, you choke from the noxious fumes.
Ah, but commonsense has long gone into the Great Depression since... Probligo would be an authority to write on this here.
Anyway, keep your money safe. Keep it in your pillow. Better yet, shred it and keep it in your pillow. And then join the KGB - they'll teach you how to reconsititute shredded papers; their agents successfully stole secrets by doing that during some espionage operation during the Cold War. Al's probably running one big clandestine ops in the deep mountains already.
Man, I'm bored. Time for more shopping?
Friday, November 14, 2008
Oh my poor Bubbles!
Little wonder our lunch/dinner outing never materialised for so long. One of us is too busy bedding, another is too busy bitching, the third is too busy babysitting, and now the fourth is too busy bubbling.
Poor Bubbles. I didn't know he was so good at describing his poxy infliction. Makes me want to take a look at him myself, now that my curiosity is so... piqued. Alas, I know I should not be a busybody because herpes simplex is indeed highly contagious and I haven't been in the best of health myself - the bloody flu won't come and the pre-flu symptoms won't go.
Get well soon, Bubbles.
Poor Bubbles. I didn't know he was so good at describing his poxy infliction. Makes me want to take a look at him myself, now that my curiosity is so... piqued. Alas, I know I should not be a busybody because herpes simplex is indeed highly contagious and I haven't been in the best of health myself - the bloody flu won't come and the pre-flu symptoms won't go.
Get well soon, Bubbles.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Getting work done in Grad School
Happen to chance upon this little article called Academic Tipping Guidelines and it was funny.
I wonder if the folks would take Al's cookies for tips. On hindsight, maybe not. He'll poison them and I'll be stuck in grad school.
Maybe I'll use Stern's Blue Bell ice-cream. But do they use Imported-From-China, melamine-laced milk?
Hell, what am I to do? Oh, I'll use those Lehman notes from Shade. I'm sure those will work.
I wonder if the folks would take Al's cookies for tips. On hindsight, maybe not. He'll poison them and I'll be stuck in grad school.
Maybe I'll use Stern's Blue Bell ice-cream. But do they use Imported-From-China, melamine-laced milk?
Hell, what am I to do? Oh, I'll use those Lehman notes from Shade. I'm sure those will work.
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