Something Borrowed, Something Blue

I was at one of the longest awaited weddings at my church today, at the Melbourne jail no less! (Love is a word and marriage is a sentence. A life sentence.)

In the midst of the revelry, I got to talking with one of the old stalwarts of our church, a Caucasian gentleman in his seventies:

'You know, I never got married myself. No girl would have wanted a bloke like me. Not with a job like mine! I was working for Ford, you see. I was driving 200 kilometres for work every week,' his face scrunches up ' and when I got back, she would want to go out for a drive.'

'Where's the sense in that? And I was too busy playing music on the weekends. Nope, no girl would have wanted a bloke like me.'

'And I tell you one more thing, there wasn't a girl I felt that I could have lived without. I mean, I've seen many women come and go, and there hasn't been one which I've seen and thought that I couldn't do without her.'

'And so here I am, you know. By myself, at seventy. I mean, even a married man would be in the position I'm in if his wife had passed away first. At least I've got good friends still...'

His voice trails off, as the both of us watch the purple ribbons streaming from the white poppy trees, dancing in the wind. The howling wind carries the laughter of children from a distance. I bite my lower lip and think about what he has just said, both of us alone in a crowd of people.

Signal Fire

Four days off before the onslaught of nights on Wednesday, and the weekend has been quite a blur. I know my friend in Singapore who's a doctor there once said, 'Man, I just don't understand it... if I had two days off every weekend, like my housemate, I would do something useful with it. You know, like learn a language.'

No he tomado el tiempo para aprender el español. (I have not taken the time to learn Spanish)

Je n'ai pas pris le temps pour apprendre le français. (I have not taken the time to learn French)

Ich habe die Zeit nicht genommen, um Deutsch zu lernen. (These German sausages are delicious. Er, I mean, I have not taken the time to learn German)

Well, there are days which have been completely squandered, I must admit. Like Saturday. And Sunday.

Fortunately, today was a day well spent. It was a beautiful day, perfect for catchup breakfasts with a goodfriendmaturingrightbeforemyeyes. The breakfast was worth the drive, but the conversation was even better! We left the shop with the icing of pink cupcakes and suspicious green-and-yellow sourstrips stuck to our teeth.

The least expensive way to spend a beautiful Monday morning: two dollars parking and a lot of walking. Spring has sprung indeed, and it was wonderful taking in the sunlight watching grown men play morning soccer in the park instead of working. I took a mental picture of the flawless blue sky, the barren trees still coaxing their leaves into the sunshine, the pretty yellow orange flowers carrying the promise of spring, the slow fans of the conservatory brimming with classical music and our laughter as we lost our way back to the car.

Thanks, K, for taking the time to ensure that a beautiful morning like today's did not go unnoticed. Once every six months would be worth a morning like today's!

Back home, and I managed to catch a movie which caught me unsusupecting, and was by far, the most disturbing of films in a long while. I'm not going to tell you what it's called. I just want to say that it made Quentin Tarantino look like he spent his lifetime directing Sesame Street compared to this Korean movie.

Mercifully, my very kind neighbours decided to call me along for an evening movie of Ratatouille, restoring the inner child in me. Definitely heartwarming, please leave your brain at home and bring your appetite to the movie. The whole movie was breathtaking in its detail, and beautiful in its execution. Any show that tempts you to take a rat home and make it your pet gets five stars in my book!

Onto a quick dinner with my brother who has worked really hard today, and then we went to Coles and bought (I can't believe I'm admitting this) a Spongebob Squarepants DVD on impulse. And watched it.

The inner child is definitely becoming an outer child today.

¿Quién vive en una piña bajo el mar? ¡Spongebob Squarepants!

Thing No. 6: The Boy Goes To Skool (Darjah Dua)

The thing that fascinated me most at the tender age of eight was an unassuming kid by the name of KY. He was a bespectacled little kid, and one day he whipped out this piece of paper, which seemed innocuous enough - it was a rectangular piece of paper with two ends sticking out like a little singlet, like so:

He would say, 'Look, okay? I'm going to use the power of my mind and bend these two ends.' And then he would pause for dramatic effect, and using all the concentration an eight year old can muster, he stared at the two ends of the paper, and suddenly the ends started to bend by themselves.

It was magic. Like the magic my friend LWK had. (see entry in mellowdramatic.blogdrive.com dated Dec 10/06) All this magic buzzing around my school, it was like freaking Hogwarts. And I wasn't Harry Potter. I wasn't even Ron Weasley. IQ wise, I would have been the equivalent of Harry's Nimbus 2000, his faithful broomstick.

How'd he do it? Well, it's quite simple actually... You see... yeah, like I'm going tell you! I spent the whole of Darjah Dua figuring it out so you can waste some of your precious life figuring it out!

As Refreshing As A Humble Collingwood Supporter

Once in a very aquamarine moon, the Emergency Department will be really quiet. So quiet it is almost surreal, and there is a low murmuring among the staff about how "Q word" it is tonight (we're a superstitious lot, we are!). Everyone's walking around on eggshells, afraid that if we coughed or laughed a little too loud, the avalanche of patients would come tumbling in.

It was one of those nights last night, and there was a simple explanation for the condition in the hospital - Collingwood was playing the West Coast Eagles. Now for those who are reading this from outside Australia, these are two teams involved in Australian football, or 'footy' as it is affectionately known here. Footy is to the Australians what soccer is to the English.

And Collingwood would be to Victorians what Liverpool would be to the Liverpudlians - a fiercely supported team, especially by the grassroots and laymen. (One senior who is a Carlton Football club supporter once commented, when he heard that I might be potentially a Collingwood supporter, said 'He can't be a Collingwood supporter! He's got too many teeth!')

They are a proud lot, the Collingwood supporters. Whether they win or lose, the fans will never turn their backs on the clubs, kind of like the Liverpool die-hards whose very club's motto 'You'll Never Walk Alone' suggests that come rain or shine, we're behind you all the way.

Collingwood has not had much to be proud of in recent times, but they did yesterday night.

Personally, there was clear evidence of the spirit of the supporters when I was travelling on the train back home the other day.

It was a Friday night, and at every stop on my way back to the city, the train started filling up with a sea of people in white and black stripes. There were groups of young louts, there were parents trying to pass on the flame to their young children, there were older folks who looked to have supported the club forever.

One or two of them have had a couple of beers prior to the game, and there was an electric buzz around the coach I was in. Random shouts of 'Go Pies!' and good natured ribbing like 'Hey, you're wearing the wrong colours, mate!' (to anyone who wasn't in a black/white outfit) reverberated through the coach. But the cutest scene was when one parent was leaning over to her child and saying, 'Hey, sing the Collingwood song!'

'Good ol' Collingwood forever...' came the hesitating little voice. '... we know how to play the game...' it trickled. This was enough to send a smile through the people in the crowd, and like a ripple it spread, and soon all the older folk around him started responding in chorus, and soon there were people dancing and singing along ending in the crescendo of 'for good old Collingwood!'

There were smiles all around after that, and I couldn't help smiling as well.

In all the hooliganism there is in modern sport, it has its roots in a heart bursting with passion. I hope to share that passion one day with you, dear children.

Hong Kong: the Last Day

We woke up on the last day at about nine and packed up our belongings. We took one last longing look at the view outside our window:

Ah, sweet pollution and cramped living quarters.

By ten we were out on the streets, and I was (ironically) feeling almost a 100% again. We walked Temple Street for the final time, stopping for one final breakfast of noodles with 'wow, what part of the cow/pig is this?'.

We also walked Lui Yan Kai again, and saw this:

Wow, they rent by the hour, huh! I mean, that's almost three rounds of mahjong.

But our culinary experience was not complete. There was one thing I needed to try while I was here. If I didn't do this, my idea of Hong Kong which I have gleaned from all the years of watching TVB series would have come to nothing. So with a whispered prayer and some persistence, we finally found the goose that laid the golden egg:

And it was quite tasty, too, let me tell you. Siew Ngo phan (roast goose rice) with plum sauce. Tastes like duck but softer and fatter.

We took a cab from the hotel to the train station, and rode the train from Hong Kong to Shenzhen, and a bus from Shenzhen to the airport just in time to catch the plane back to Malaysia.

Planes, trains and goodbyes. The train from Hong Kong to Shenzhen; the view of Hong Kong by night.

All in all, quite a good experience, and I'm sure we've missed a few other sights, but I wouldn't mind coming again, but next time I will remember to check the if a typhoon has decided to holiday here as well first.

And maybe bring a girl.

Hong Kong: the Third Day/Night 2

We were about to call it a night, and I was more than ready to head back to the comforts of my hotel bed, but I suddenly caught a second wind, and, inspired by the fact that it was going to be our last night there in Hong Kong, we walked for a final time to Tsim Sha Tsui, to the bayside.

And this is what we were rewarded with:


These pictures barely do it justice. It was like a 'Wow.' moment. It was also like a, 'Why am I here with a guy?' moment. Sigh.

You literally had your breath taken away when you first see the sights of Hong Kong Island at night. And all your doubts about whether this was the right vacation spot to have gone to just fades away. All the head colds, all the brisk people, all the painful feet from endless walking was suddenly overawed by this spectacle before you.

We spent a good hour just basking in the neon lights streaming from across the island before walking around a little more, with the holiday final night blues kicking in.

Among other things seen that night:

Quick, guess what they sell!


Time ticking down on our last night


A rudimentary Google Earth: I live here! The tunnel leading to the Science Museum.


A neck ripe for vampires. Although they would probably go for my nose, if you could only see how red it was! Now, can anybody please tell me where the heck Tsim Sha Tsui is?

We bought just a few more things that night before finally making our way back to the hotel room. We were exhausted from all the walking, yet, satisfied.

A Welcome Request!

Hi, could you guys check in so that I know that you know I'm here? Just a quick hi with the initials of your first name and surname will do, and I'll try to figure out who you are! :) HK