Taking to the Air

Goodday: from LJ to Blogspot.

2007-05-14T19:11:00.000+08:00

Goodday,

It is heartwarming to be home. Running through old entries of 2005 got me thinking about how much I have aged the past two years. From happy & bronzed undergrad to jaded working adult. And after all those futile attempts trying to blog on LJ in China, I am coming home to blogspot to chronicle my life.

While entries in livejournal dating from November 06 to present have been about my lowest points in life, new entries in blogspot might just be my turning point. Especially after Tokyo this May.

D.

testdrive - tokyo preview

2007-05-14T18:50:00.000+08:00

Nishi-Shinjuku, as seen from Hilton Hoteru

Aoki's fab desserts, from Isetan Shinjuku's depachika

Latest Developments this side of East Asia

2006-06-06T23:27:00.000+08:00

Livejournal

2005-10-17T02:11:00.000+08:00

I have jumped ship. Read me at http://www.livejournal.com/users/drinkmojito/

Ciao!
D.

2005-10-15T03:19:00.000+08:00

Word Processing Machine

2005-10-12T11:31:00.001+08:00

OK, i'm finally done with my 3 stories for Vmag/November. One on the Cannery at Clarke Quay, another on Facials for Men and yet other on celebrity-turned-fashion designer transformation in Excuse Me, Are you a Fashion Designer? Think I emerged more well-informed about the urban transformation that's about to change the face of Clarke Quay, thanks to British practice, Alsop Architects' aesthetic vision. With MOS, Cafe del Mar, Fashion TV/Cafe, Bice and a nail bar, even our ex-governor/imperialist/colonialist/Orientalist Andrew Clarke from the days of pre-independence Singapore would give an approving nod to our Noughties-style indulgence.

And on the topic of pseudo fashion designers, Gwen Stefani and Milla Jovovich seem most promising--with talent, connections, and commitment to keep them in for the long haul. Beyoncé, Paris Hilton and J Lo are neither getting the thumbs up from me nor Suzy Menkes unfortunately.

Facials for men? Metrosexuality, as a construct reified from thin air, has totally redefined a male's quotidienne consumption of fashion and beauty, de-linking fashion/beauty and femininity. Today, it's possible to keep to a facial regime (exfoliation, toning etc) without appearing gay. And the way to size up a man at a job interview isn't restricted to just his academic and professional qualifications either. He has to show sartorial flair and grooming capability to qualify for a job. Oh don't the marketing people know how to make money. As you read this, essentialist pyschologists are probably busy sketching out the brain of a metrosexual. How futile and stupid is that?

My long overdue cheque has arrived. Gives a whole new meaning to nouveau riche all of a sudden. It's about time i indulge myself. Do I have time for Tokyo from the time my exams end till i leave for Shanghai?

This morning, i finally received a call from Tatler. We are meeting 0930h le Vendredi to have a chat and see how we can work things out. Perfect.

On another note, i have yet to find a magazine to pitch my KLAFW stories to. Is anyone keen on featuring the KL Six? I tell you, it's an Antwerp Six-collective waiting to happen.

Huiling 新上海人

2005-10-11T17:24:00.000+08:00

Nursing our alltimefavourite mojitos at New Asia Bar, Swissôtel Singapore.

Huiling and I at Space @ Humble House

Stark space at Space @ Humble House

Gongbao Beef Noodles

Duck Cigar Rolls

Huiling’s back. This hyeow girl’s been in Shanghai for barely 3 months now she’s back! I wonder if it’s because she misses home and finds Shanghai alienating. Surprisingly no! She’s singing to a different tune now, “

Singapore

’s so boring, there’s a lot more happening in Shanghai”. I’m thrilled to hear that. After all, she’s got another 8 more months to spend in Shanghai.

It’s China’s week-long 双十假日 holiday and seeing that she’s got miles on Northwest that she could put to good use, she’s decided to make a trip home to see her family and friends. Fabulous to have her back.

I brought her to Space@HumbleHouse for dinner and also to 洗尘, an express version of My Humble House. You could think of it as Nobu Next Door if you like, fast, no frills, no reservations policy. Except that Humble House doesn’t have its tables full like Nobu does, which merits little need for a duh-worthy establishment like Space.

With so much conversation re. Shanghai in store, there was little room for the food we ordered: duck cigar rolls, crab nuggets, rice noodles slices of fish, and 宫保 gong bao beef noodles. All excellent—even the beef noodles turned out to be quite a surprise (lovely without being cloying—think an oversupply of 宫保鸡丁 after time spent in Beijing) , as we initially ordered it with much hesitation, worried that Huiling might have OD-ed on 宫保–this –that while subsisting on 外卖晚餐 during those nights when she chooses to stay in.

We went back to our (fairly) regular haunt, New Asia Bar, to have more mojitos and lychee bellinis before calling it a night. And even as I am writing this, I’ve finally got my act together to redeem my miles on SQ! I leave for Shanghai on 9^th December and return on 5^th January. Does anyone care to join me?

je l'aime

2005-10-11T02:53:00.000+08:00

grande histoire: grand, plus grand, le plus grand

il fait froid à la nuit. c'est pas le temps mais juste une sentiment. après d'avoir fait connaissance avec qqn, je peux pas oublier. une situation comme torture, mais sans blessure, juste instabilité émotionelle et mentale. xx s'appelle... xx. me donne une force véritable. qu'est-ce que je dois faire? faire du jogging, faire de la natation, boire de vin, immerser à travailler? n'importe quoi pour lxx oublier.

Bonding Over Food

2005-10-08T01:02:00.000+08:00

College pals: Yunsheng, Viv, D.

Food is so central to our lives in

Singapore

that bonding invariably takes place over food. Over the past two weeks, I caught up with various friends while busying myself over Macanese baked pork chop rice and Peking duck rolls.

With college pals, Vivien and Yunsheng, we did Macanese at Crystal Jade’s latest venture into Macanese 察餐厅 fare. For a country with a population with just 300, 000 digits (yes 300K, you read that right), they already have a discernible cuisine which can be readily exported to other parts of the world. Michelle Reis, if you can think of her as food of another kind, is in movies and the celeb circuit by way of Hong Kong. What about Singapore, with a population of 4 million—and counting—and an established Singaporean cuisine in (and only in) Singapore? We could start exporting bak chor mee and hainanese curry rice already.

Goodwood Park Hotel on a rainy Tuesday. Kevin and I piled on the gossip mongering while indulging in old school high tea nyonya-style. High tea’s not my thing—I love variety and quantity but I have no room to pile on the inches, though I remember my first and last high tea experience very fondly. It was 1991, I was only 10, and I had laksa at the dull brasserie of the then-Hyatt Regency. Fastforward to 2005. Since it was Kevin’s belated birthday treat, I was more than happy to say yes, never mind the potential calories.

With little in the way of resistance, I soon piled on the laksa, chicken curry, kueh pie tee, bread dumplings and wings. It’s amazing how in Singapore, you still can spot CatherineLim cheongsam-wearing types doing afternoon high tea. Looks like Emily of Emerald Hill exists not only in Stella Kon’s literary work but still remains an empirical reality out there.

At Hour Glass’ party/Jubilee Hall on Friday, Jeffrey and I found overselves more occupied with conversations, Peking duck rolls, cocoa spare ribs and the bubbly rather than the event per se. Carl F. Bucherer awards, so named after the Swiss timepiece, was made all the more theatrical and fictitious with a host like Beatrice Chia. The winners went to the folks who took the path less treaded—Kit Chan, Loh Lik Ping, Tina Tan-Leo & Lionel Leo. Would you take the awards seriously? One could argue that in recruiting a theatre personality like Chia (whose reminder, ‘please switch your mobile phones to the silent mode’ reminds one of being in a theatre pre-performance), it is symbolic of an allusion to theatrics, drama—pure fiction and orchestration. But who would care to debate the politics of such representation when, at the end of the event, a bar of Möet-ful flutes and an ensemble of jazz players await?

Back from Chiang Dao & Chiang Mai

2005-10-02T01:48:00.000+08:00

More Images from Chiang Mai/Chiang Dao

Chiang Dao

Did I mention I hitched a ride for the very first time?

On the road between Chiang Dao and Tha Ton/Fang, we alighted from our bus abruptly. We had long overshot our destination, Chiang Dao, by a good 40 minutes. We had planned to stay for a night at the tranquil Chiang Dao Nest, which is just under 1.5 hours from Chiang Mai. So, desperate to get to the hill station before it turned dark, we had our hands out-stretched, and before I knew it, I had successfully done it. The Thai gentleman was very friendly and sent us right up into the hills. We didn’t even have a chance to thank him.

As it drizzled incessantly, we stepped out of our huts into the café area to have a long dinner. I had a main course of pan-roasted duck breast piqued with honey lime and spices while my friend settled for slow-cooked tenderloin tempered with by garlic and lime. We ended dinner with a passion fruit cheese cake with very little conversation in between. I suppose it was therapeutic listening to the sky raining down into the heart of the forest. With clouds so near we could grab them, it was cooler than usual and convinced me for a wee moment that no amount of good deed would put me closer to heaven than a stay at a hill resort. We retreated to our simple hut of a room, which was cosy and comfortable and had no telly. We both read—I spent an evening pouring over a book on the ethnic minority tribes in the Golden Triangle and so wished I could see them up close.

Next morning, I woke up to a beautiful garden in a secluded forest. I made like Somerset Maugham at my balcony, taking in the quietude. I ate a breakfast of toasts and scrambled eggs, went back to sleep some more before leaving Chiang Dao for Chiang Mai. The rain of the night before—thanks to Vincente—had left many riverside communities submerged in water. The hotel staff had warned me the night before that if the rain got any heavier, I would have to take a boat over the submerged roads to get to my Chiang Mai-bound bus at a dry point. Thankfully, there wasn’t a drop of water on the roads leading to Chiang Mai. Much of Chiang Mai escaped unscathed except for the communities by the Ping River—much better than the flood of August 15^th which saw a good part of Chiang Mai underwater.

Chiang Mai

Reflections on my second trip to Chiang Mai. I wanna celebrate Thai-ness, Chiang Mai, and the infectious and heart-warming Thai spirit, which seems to reside in every wai. Need I mention that everyone’s very friendly and ready to dispense a smile even to the most inconsequential stranger? It’s not just heart-melting, it’s life-affirming. Yes, granted that scholars like Hochschild (2003)—case in point, the Delta Airlines flight attendants in The Managed Heart—on emotional work have dismissed friendliness and the smile as commercialized emotions, packaged into a commodity and offered, sold. But it’s just so heart-warming and life-affirming to be surrounded by positive people who smile and attempt to make your day.

I often wonder if this friendly spirit seeps into another realm called creativity. Thailand’s artisan spirit manifests itself as happiness embodied. On my first night in Chiang Mai, I trawled the night bazaar in the Old City—an entity demarcated by a centuries-old moat and remnants of a brick-gate—along the streets of Thanon Intrawot and Thanon Rajdamnoen and surfaced with great purchases: some really lovely candle holders that would put Lim’s Arts and Crafts trailer trash to shame, a herbal shampoo infused with ylang-ylang and avocado essential oils and pure vegetable soaps (with scents like rice bran, papaya and green tea) that smell so good even as they exfoliate.

Chiang Mai has long been known as a production centre of handicrafts and furniture. Naysayers argue that wages and production costs—overheads in short—are very low in Thailand, which account for the variety and proliferation of such creative industries on a seemingly grassroots level (whereas in Singapore, costs deter such attempts), but I say that the Thai spirit of artistic production is inimitable and unparalleled.

In fusing the Thai spirit with the indigenous Lanna artisan style, many Bangkokians have been enticed to travel up north to its many villages outside the city proper to procure such great finds. The wonderful stuff you see (polished and prices marked up) in Bangkok’s Gaysorn Plaza and Suan Lum Night Bazaar probably had their roots in Chiang Mai. More interesting is the reverse flow: jaded Bangkokians have purportedly given up their metropolis-careers and hectic lives to go back to basics in Chiang Mai, reveling in the organic artistic spirit and producing works of arts and crafts.

Mandarin Oriental Dhara Devi, which allows cultural immersion in high style, the $80 million resort is an exercise at capturing the Lanna idyll just before the half-built tunnel freeways threaten to lodge Chiang Mai into the evil scheme of urbano-capitalismo swirl. Travel + Leisure’s Peter Jon Lindberg described the experience at the cascading patio of MO during dinner, “The sun is descending over the paddies, casting shadows across the old wooden rice barn and dripping banyan trees. A straw-hatted villager in an indigo smock guides two water buffalo down a muddy path, trailed by three clucking roosters. As daylight fades, torches spark to life, fireflies flicker, and the farmer and his team turn in for the night, leaving the fields to the scarecrows and crickets”. In creating a space to embody the Lanna spirit, owner Suchet Suwanmongkol and architect Rachen Intawong have built a temple to Lanna architecture.

I dropped by at the Dhara Devi for Oriental Bakery’s legendary cakes and saw how the whole property is akin to a northern Thai village-inspired Disneyland of teak buildings. Like a rural space, there are lotus ponds, moats, markets, temples, vegetable gardens. Wood carvers, shopkeepers, servants, artisans, cultural practioners, basket-weaving ladies are all part of the entourage that keep the village atmosphere alive in this luxurious resort. I fancied running into another fellow villager while partaking of my raspberry and champagne-infused cake and mousse, sipping ginger tea, all while perusing the day’s Bangkok Post and The Nation.

No, Chiang Mai is not to be mistaken as the back of beyond. Sure, as Thailand’s second city, it does not have many skyscrapers or a mass public transit system (relying still on trucks called songtaews), but it is a city at least in spirit. Judging from the citizens’ good taste, healthy expat population, modern art and design, no lack of cool restaurants and bars (whether perched in the mountains or nestling by the Ping River) or chic designer hotels like MO (Rachamanka, Chedi, Regent-turned-Four Seasons, Dusit’s D2, soon-to-be-here Shangri-la), it’s a cosmopolitan city in the making. The Lanna-ites (as the denizens of Chiang Mai would call themselves) are fairly clued in to the ‘international’, as their Bangkokian cousins are. Watch them chill on Sunday evening at the Night Bazaar, buy art at stalls set up in the temples, listen to a jazz performance or a cultural dance put up on the streets, schmooze with visitors from out of town. Lindberg observes that over the past decade, “Chiang Mai has witnessed a resurgence of state-endorsed regional pride. The northern dialect has made a pronounced return. Men, women, and children often dress in traditional clothes on Fridays (Culture Day). Classical dances and folk songs are performed in schools. Architects and interior designers are using northern motifs in new buildings”. It is an organic city capable of esteemed cognition.

After Chiang Mai

2005-09-25T00:31:00.000+08:00

Venerdi: D&G Verano/Inverno 2005/6 collezioni par Club 21 à Hilton.

It was a good holiday, but I came back more tired and less rejuvenated than one would expect. The moment I returned, there were emails and texts to revert and things to be done. One might even argue that going on a break during the Sept (or March) hols is considered punishing. Dening, just back from Bali, shares a similar view.

Architecture meeting on Thursday, followed by Urban Anthropology meeting on Friday. Plus lots of thinking in between. I continued to take more time off than I deserved: taking in bubbly at Park Infinia’s launch on Thursday with Kien, and then the Baccarat and D&G party on Friday. Surprise surprise, Colin and Serene were back in town to give form to D&G’s Fall/Winter collections on the catwalk. Just as the flow of bubbly ended, I walked out to see Valerie on her way out from Harbour Grill, all dressed to kill and looking fashionably wicked with her big hair.

Wrapped up Friday nicely with an evening of salsa with Prof Chee Kiong and classmates—Crystal, Elizabeth, Mabel, Serene—at Union Square.

Today is Saturday. I had myself imprisoned to get some real work done.

中秋赏月，2e Partie

2005-09-25T00:02:00.000+08:00

Lanterns in a splendour of colours

Winston and I
Trad chic lanterns
Yaokang and I

At Sunny and Ivan’s, we had take-out from Old Airport Road and Keong Saik Road to share—三捞，虾酱鸡，新洲米粉，炒饭。。。--followed by a mid-autumn evening session of Raffles Hotel’s champagne-, cognac-flavoured mooncakes, 大中国双蛋黄月饼。 How chinois the experience was.

中秋赏月，1er Partie

2005-09-18T02:56:00.000+08:00

Staking out in the Honors Seminar Room. For once, the intellectually-charged space lends itself to some much-deserved revelry. Me & Shaun in the background, together with some of the friendliest in our cohort: Zonghan, Valerie, Serene.

Yeong Chong brings on the bubbly. Shafaa, still on her high from her pictionary-victory!! ;)

Serene matches her dress cleverly with a pout and a lantern in a similar shade of yellow. Siti appears chinois with her cheongsam top.

Zonghan offers a generous dose of bubbly to Jiawei.

Sociology (students) brings (bring) beacons of light to NUS.

Yunshan points to a gaping hole in her lantern

Rooftop of xxx building: We made it that far. Valarie, Yeong Chong, Serene, Eugene (Dili), Cheryl, with Yunshan and Siti in the foreground.

Sociology Honours' pupils do it again. In the name of Mid-Autumn Festival, we threw a party in our Honors Room with lots of mooncakes, angkukway (s), and chips to share. We watched videos feat. Chee, played pictionary (the boys lost and had to mimic the dancing queens in the Idiot Boyfriends music video, quite a laugh~), popped the bubbly (which i happened to buy from a 24hr supermarket in Causeway Bay after an inebriated night out, bleargh), and brought beacons of light to NUS by way of old-school paper lanterns. Along the way, we lost a couple of lanterns to mini-bonfires, but we were cool. Watching the paper lanterns go up in flames, literally, was after all, extremely cathartic.

Driven to exile by the lack of any chilled and fresh air in our room, we decided to hightail it to Fong Seng where we had dinner and a pretty juicy conversation.

Arrivederci: Addio à Signore Darren

2005-09-16T01:20:00.000+08:00

Darren and I: northern chinese flavours for lunch

Manarola, Cinque Terre: Darren contemplates, prosecco in hand.

Me, London: at the balcony of our roomy unit at Maddox No.5

Manarola, Cinque Terre: inviting azure waters, where many a moments were spent and etched in our minds.

Me, Largo di Garda: Lunching by Lake Garda, taking it ohsoeasy.

Milan: DSquared's show at a warehouse hangar in the Naviglio district during the menswear shows. A pair of Dean/Dan-spoofs came out a-sweeping to drive home the theme of the sixties American diner.

Monterosso, Cinque Terre: the harmony of umbrellas.

Kino, Ost Berlin, an der Karl Marx Allee/Avenue: A cinema called cinema. rich and austere interiors fit for Stalin's entourage in town to assess Ost Berlin's Five Year Plans during the Cold War era.

Tuesday after Emotions lecture. There was Darren to meet for the very last time before he returned to New York. At Holland Village, we settled for an afternoon of grazing at Crystal Jade’s La Mian Xiao Long Bao. The predictable selection was well-done, in my opinion. What surprised me was the mindblowing 凉菜 of cubes of marinated tofu with bits of century eggs mixed in. Why didn’t I see that in Beijing? Aww.

Somehow rather inevitably, we ended up talking about European holiday--i call(ed) it la petite euro voyage--together back in 2003. Under a month, we went east from London to Praha, then west to take in Berlin, Hamburg and then further south to Italy, with me winding up in Glasgow and Paris eventually while Darren trudged on to see Firenze and Venezia. What was really memorable for him was the lovely visit to Lake Garda/Largo di Garda where we stayed at Villa Feltrinelli. There was an open bar in our quaint and old school room, which meant we had bubbly quite readily everyday while picnicking and swimming in the lake! It was straight out of Talented Mr Ripley in Napoli, Amalfi, Roma e San Remo.

I remember Cinque Terre, off La Spezia and Genoa, for its excellent beaches where we swam, tanned and downed copious amounts of prosecco without giving heed to the heat. We had dinner at La Lanterna, a smallish restaurant perched on a tiny cliff, awash with the sounds of gently lapping waves of the Mediterranean; and it’s run by an effervescent Italian papa who speaks a smattering of English in an Italiano accent. We were so charmed by the fresh starter of steamed mussels that we ordered take-out the next evening, had it wrapped in aluminum foil, and snacked on it on a higher range of cliffs off the town of Riomaggiore.

There were other great moments. Ost Berlin for its edgy feel (esp Friedrichshain und Kreuzberg districts) and Milano for the explosive fashion sense and wicked aperitivo hours. Hmm, I wonder when I will be back.

And then I was jolted back to my senses again when, after the meal , Darren ran into his ex-RJ friends at the news stand, Shien and xxx who were back in Singapore for the hols from London and Stanford.

Me. I couldn’t resist smelling like 2003 again; I walked into Sasa and promptly paid for a 100 millimeters of Chanel Allure Pour Homme.

Take Five.

2005-09-13T22:56:00.000+08:00

The September term break will be here soon and ought to pose as a brief symbolic break away from school. I have been putting in knee-jerk effort since Week One and it’s a little tiring. But Ron is having a harder time, juggling with an average of two presentations per module (and there are five).

I managed to get S$3.98 tickets on Tiger Airways to Chiang Mai, so I will be off this Sunday for a getaway. The recent flood of 15^th August left the city centre more than knee-deep in water; I’m praying for more forgiving weather. Having done Chiang Mai previously in March (and having taken it so easy), I have plans to take things up a few notches this time and visit this really nice lodge and restaurant opened by a British-Thai couple in Chiang Dao, just an hour and a half away from Chiang Mai. If I have time, I’m certainly looking forward to cooking lessons and visits to (sadly commercialized) hill tribes and practice amateur anthropology. Of course, I meant to visit Pon and hang out, taking in the city’s languid charms, relaxing dinners along the Ping River, insouciant afternoons spent in cafes…

My First Summer in Hong Kong.

2005-09-11T03:15:00.000+08:00

Me: au train/MTR de Causeway Bay à Sheung Wan à 1240h.

Lin Heung: fragrant as hell, chicken steamed in walnut leaves. hou-sek!

Harvey Nicks has arrived at Landmark!

Lin Heung: beef siew mai

SecondFloorRetail: In land-scarce Hong Kong, the only way to go is up!

Causeway Bay: circular logic

Central: clash of the old and the new

Lin Heung: Ngau/Beef Cheong Fun

It’s my first time being in Hong Kong in summer. And boy was it hot. I was absolutely dripping with perspiration making my way from Sheung Wan to Central one rainy evening past midnight. During the long trek I took in sights like Wellington Street and Wyndham Street and quite a few chic florists worthy of being transplanted onto Avenue Montaigne at the Four Seasons George V/Paris. I had myself a whirl wind tour that brought back memories of old Hong Kong experiences at Rice Bar, Works, still-hip Dragon-I, eventually winding up at Propaganda/PP for quiet drinks. I ran into Raymond the Lou-Yeh with his boys again, and we did a bit of catching up. Barring the last time we saw each other in Happy/Singapore, our first and last time was way back in Xmas/2003 in Hong Kong, where a big group of us like Dennis, Singaporean residing in HK, Maggie Q (who threw a Xmas [Eve] dinner at Gaia/Sheung Wan, thanks to Pino, and baked us a cheese cake which we shared at Dennis’ spacious Midlevels apartment) went partying at Dragon-I and PP on Boxing Day after happy hour drinks at Post 97 and dinner at Indochine. We made a note to meet again the next time I was in Hong Kong and I slowly made my way out of SoHo. I descended into Central where I actually managed to catch a Mongkok-bound (by way of the Causeway Bay tunnel) minibus back to my hotel in Causeway Bay. On the way, 2 other gwai-mui (s) (white girls) hopped on the mini to take advantage of the HKD5 ride!

In the day, I was back in Central again to yum cha at the legendary Lin Heung near Chin Huat’s apartment, which Jeffrey and I so fancy. It’s dripping with old world charm, and authentic to the extent that its rough edges, uncommon dishes like beef siew mai(s) and take-no-nonsense staff all allude to a past era. I had a quick brunch of beef siew mai, chicken steamed in walnut leaves and beef fun cheong and a pot of heong pin to wash everything down.

I dropped by at Thye Cheong bakery at Lyndhurst Terrace, which sells Chris Patten’s and my fave daan taat in Hong Kong—but unfortunately, it’s closed down, or probably relocated. By then, beads of perspiration were already forming profusely. Eventually I settled for pineapple, honeydew, mandarin tarts at Kee Wah, another famous bakery. I triple-jumped into the store to get some air-conditioning when I saw its slick façade!

In typical Singaporean fashion, I was off to the next airconditioned mall, this time, the Landmark. Finally, Harvey Nicks has arrived in Hong Kong and occupies a small space in the Landmark Shopping Centre. It sure has a very, very refined air about it, just like Joyce/HK but better than HarveyNicks/London. Unfortunately, it suffers the misfortune of crammed conditions and lack of variety. Given more time, I’d eat at Fourth (or Fifth?) floor. I didn’t plan on lunching there because I was not sure if Harvey Nicks had already opened its doors to Hongkongers. Then, there’s the swanky Mandarin Oriental Landmark next door which is super cool with its Adam Tihany-designed restaurant, Amber, and bar, MO. Definitely worth a stop next trip.

This trip, however pleasant, to Hong Kong reminded me of unfriendly Hanoi. There’s a general cruel unfriendliness in the air, a certain lack of warmth (even in this 31 degree heat) in this city. Hongkongers can be ethnocentric to the extent that you, as a tourist, are expected to know how things work—any sort of hesitation or inability to make quick decisions when ordering at a restaurant for instance, like at Lin Heung, is not tolerated because it’s a plain waste of the staff’s time. Service personnel at the airport, Airport Express station or MTR stations will only dispense smiles at a cost, it seems. There is also a lack of eye contact and willingness to engage in this city.

Hanoians, like Hongkongers, work very hard for a living in societies dictated by the capitalist mode of production, imbued by a ‘Chinese’, work ethic which I would loosely term ‘Confucianist’. They, like Hong Kongers, are proud (perhaps to the point of being conceited) of their hard work and hard-earned money, and are unlikely to slow down a step to let emotions rear its head—unless you are their friend. On the façade, Hanoians present status is too humble to be compared to their affluent Pearl River Delta counterpart, but I have a feeling, based on the fact that Hanoi has been influenced by the Chinese culture for centuries and is geographically a Southern Chinese city after all (if not for the territorial demarcation introduced by Westerners), Hanoians are actually very similar to Hongkongers in their persuasions and will most likely come to have socio-economic trajectories similar to Hong Kong’s.

Room Warming Party

2005-09-10T00:57:00.000+08:00

Zonghan, Serene, Gana (front to back)

Amos, Yunshan and Eugene, with Nadia and Shafaa in a friendly embrace.

Prof Chua Beng Huat makes an appearance

Who made konnyaku?

Nurul's creamy confection

Nadia's salad of fusili and tuna, very healthy and light.

My favourite! Pineapple Tarts from Kee Wah, Central, Hong Kong

Me, still sober after copious amounts of drinks at Guild House/NUS.

Malebonding: Yeong Chong and Yong Li the birthday boy

__, Shantini, Cherylynne, Eliss

Thanks to the great effort of our fellow sociologists, we’ve managed to get our Honours Room together. Let me shout out a big thank you to the key ‘movers and shakers’ who contributed to the beauty and newfound character of the room and those who provided us with great food and good company for the Room Warming Party tonight. Our professors also bought us rounds of drinks, accompanied by hot-off-the-oven chicken wings and satay, at the Guild House to round off a night of banter (and intellectual exchange on the side).

Mandala meets Medan upcloseandpersonal.

2005-09-06T22:45:00.000+08:00

Me. circa July 2004. At Soekarno-Hatta in Jakarta, waiting to board Mandala Airlines to Yogyakarta

Holy shit. Mandala crashed into a Medan(Sumatra) town just moments after take-off. This happens just nine months after the Lion Air accident in which, if I didn’t recall wrongly, the aircraft split into two and caught fire after it skidded off from the runway and into the bushes in Solo(Java).

I have every reason to be jittery. I was a happy passenger on Mandala Air last July, flying from Jakarta to Yogyakarta to visit my friend Hata, and back on Bouraq Airlines. Sure I was thrilled—I paid a pittance for the one-hour flight. At just Rp.195,000., S$40 one way (tax—and only domestic airport tax, Rp20,000, S$4), the ticket that Hata bought and paid on my behalf was a steal. On board, there was assigned seating and they even threw in a sandwich and mineral water. With close to a hundred flights a day shuttling between the two cities, there was intense competition among the various airlines (nine, ten?)—new start ups then like Adam Air, Jatayu Airlines etc—these regular airlines were beginning to look like budget airlines with their cutthroat pricing system.

My point is: the aviation record seems rather questionable. I don’t have solid evidence but I don’t have a very good feeling, especially after the two recent incidents. So never mind the low fares, I would be abstaining from Indonesia's homegrown airlines.

Fatigué

2005-09-06T01:15:00.000+08:00

I feel so dogged after a busy weekend.
Today there was one Contemporary Social Theory lesson, one Concept Formation presentation and 3 V Mag deadlines for October 2005. I want to get the stories in by tomorrow by hook or by crook. You go grrl.

But let's not forget there's good news. My friend handling the International Delegates and Media, William, called from KL today to invite me to cover the KLAFW in Kuala Lumpur come November. As expected, it'd be a cushy trip, zipping off to KL on a shuttle flight after my third paper (at the height of exam season, Semester 1 of 2005/2006) for 3 nights, check out the KL Six (Tom Abang Saufi and Bernard Chandan the wonder(s)!), attend the gala awards, and then rush back to NUS/Singapore for my fourth and fifth back-to-back papers-- I should come back very inspired to contribute to the body of knowledge in Contemporary Social Theory and Concept Formation, I'm sure.

Close to two Mondays ago, I ran into Lionel Seah outside the Sociology Seminar Room and I said hello. Turns out he was in NUS to assess the style quotient of our students. I happily obliged and offered my two cents worth.

Fast forward to September the Fifth.

Over the past week leading from Thursday, I have had classmates coming up to me to double-check if I was that certain Dennis She that Lionel Seah quoted in Undergrads Underdressed?, a story that appeared in the Urban pullout section of The Straits Times. I was quoted as saying "Law and Arts are well-dressed but the medical and engineering people dress as if their clothes are bought from a pasar malam". Erm. Darling, I understand that Lionel is quite the busy fashion editor, but I am not sure if I really did mention 'pasar malam'. (May I check the transcript please?) Second, I did comment on how the undergrads from the Science faculty are comparatively sartorially-challenged, but the reporter understood 'Science faculty' as a catch-all term denoting the likes of Engineering and Medicine faculties--that does not reflect my exact sentiment. Finally, let me add as a final remark that it's possible to appear chic and clued-in even in a seemingly casual albeit extremely instrumental (think, in this heat~) getup of berms and tees/shirts: it's a matter of pulling the right pieces together in a studied look that alludes more to a post-CinqueTerre afternoon in La Spezia than a slimy morning spent trawling the wet market.

Social Immortality

2005-09-01T17:37:00.001+08:00

Our Lady, in Xinhui County/Guangdong Province, Décembre 2004.

Our Lady with my Third Uncle/ Zhuhai.

Our Lady's 故居，Xinhui County

Our Lady catches up with the folks.

My grandmamma left today at 0610; no one caught her at her very last breath. She may not have lived beyond eighty-three, but her spirit lives.

Partir

2005-09-01T17:29:00.000+08:00

I have to leave. It's tiring. Even if there's no ICN/ORD this time round, there'd be more next.

Let Darren be the new Koolhaas

2005-08-28T02:24:00.000+08:00

C'est une réunion! Me/Darren.

Macaroons in a trio of flavours: pistachio, chocolate, hazelnut.

ACM: The rich glory of the Vatican world as staged at our Asian Civilisations Museum/Singapore.

Kien, Yaokang, Kevin, Zhiwei partake of a smattering of crème brulée et les autres. Vive le sucre!

Delightful: check out the hazelnut flava!

D, Darren, Chris

Ivan, Sunny, Ron Tan, Jeffrey, Kien

I miss my macaroons. Last time I had them was at Lenôtre Cafe (Lang Suan/Chidlom) in Bangkok.

Saturday was a rushed day. I actually managed to squeeze in quite a bit today: visit my grandmamma in hospital (to wish her strength and that she continues to be in great health. Ps: how does one face death? Is life insurance the new ritual in contemporary society?), a trip to the supermarket to replenish groceries with my mamma and even a visit to the Asian Civilisations Museum.

A certain acquaintance I know dissed the ACM as being total crap, rationalizing that in terms of curating, the permanent displays aren’t amazing and that some of them are simply scoured from homes of the rich in Singapore (case in point: the Sulawesian jewellery that we see sitting in all their atas glory in the museum are but cheap nothings of a certain Mr Tatler who bought them for next to nothing in Indonesia). Whatever. I didn’t take very kindly to what he said, especially with the understanding that the ACM is a good effort.

This time, I was there for the Vatican ‘Journey of Faith’ exhibition with Ron, Kien and Yaokang. Granted it was religiosity in your face, it was still a worthy exercise at getting a sense of the cultural milieu in which the architecture belongs. During my 5hour transit in Fiumicino, I only had the chance to have a quick lunch of selected antipasti e prosecco, plus a quick hello to the Colosseo and Piazza di Spagna as well as made off with two Italian shirts of the (2002)-moment--no time to see the Vatican! FYI, I’m reading a module called Theory and History of Western Architecture at the School of Architecture now and my professor Li Shiqiao suggested it would be useful to have a look at the exhibition. And so, half the time, Ron and I were making sense of the types of columns in buildings, use of entasis in columns, and relating to the bodies of theories which we have been exposed to. I’ve got lots more reading to do in this largely new field and I’m seriously warning myself that it's beyond name-dropping Corbusier, van der Rohe, and Hadid.

Finally, I got to meet Darren this evening together with the boys. Happy! He’s been back from New York for a week and is staying through coming Sunday; school at Columbia doesn’t start till early September. I know his mind is still on architecture even as he catches up with us over bites of nasi lemak and popiah, or macaroon(s) at Bakerzin for that matter. His ex-schoolmate, Mark, also just back in Singapore (for a break from college in Ontario), was also present to join for us for our evening passegiata from Esplanade to One Fullerton, where we lingered over a really long conversation: talking about night-outs in Manhattan’s clubs like XL, Hell’s Kitchen, Roxy, drinks at MEPA’s Hotel Ganservoort and Maritime Hotel; exchanging views on how cultural context shape buildings, and in turn how people as audience give shape, form and meaning to buildings, both being sort of mutually constitutive; Haussmann's Paris; Zhang Xin and Pan Shiyi's fabulous project, Commune by the Great Wall; and Darren citing the Koolhaas-ian notion of organic, non-Eurocentric urban planning theories for Asian cities (to which I give an anti-Orientalist thumbs up).

La Bibliothèque Nationale

2005-08-27T01:55:00.000+08:00

Une Bibliothèque: Sédate, calme, inspiré

Une vue de la core de la bibliotheque: quelle luminosité.

Has anyone been to the newly-opened National Library lately? Academia just got a major shot in the arm with this spanking new, high-rise edificio. Look how the face of the urban Civic District’s about to change as National Library opens, accompanied by the new compounds of the Singapore Management University. I’m hoping for a new spirit to spice up the scene in Singapore.

On the side, Jeffrey and I have discovered great deals to Manila on L’aviation Tigre and we are thinking of going there during the NTU/NUS’ September school holidays to pay Bryanboy a visit and live it up in the excellent restaurants, bars and clubs that Bryan mentions ever so often: Embassy, Cuisine, La Embajada, Manila DJ Club, Godskitchen. Manila appears to be more gentrified and parles more Anglais than we thought. It could be a fun place. Could Manila be the new Bangkok?

Raqie Returns (and goes West)

2005-08-26T00:18:00.000+08:00

des vrais jumeaus Raqie (qui a rentré de Melbourne) et Zakie; avec moi entre les deux.
trois fois le trouble: Zakie, Sidique, Raqie

It’s not very common that I go to Holland Village twice in 3 days. I go to school and I lead a real life. Late last week, I had friends, Zakie and Sidique coming from the East. Long sick of Siglap, they are finally wheeling it here to the West by way of ECP. Friday after school was a lazy evening spent picking at seafood glass noodle salads at Thai Express (still as sparkling and cheerful as ever, albeit way more expensive than what I would pay on Soi Convent or even Greyhound Café/Emporium Shopping Centre. Grr.) and then coffee at TCC, a lepak manner of easing ourselves into the weekend. Come Sunday, the addiction just got more intense. Raqie, Zakie’s twin, was fresh from his Melbourne high and feeling more St Kilda’s than Siglap. After one month spent frolicking under the cushy duvet with his girlfriend, Teresia, in wintry-Melbourne (so cold he had this thermals on), he’s probably not quite ready to leave. So back in Singapore, he sped to Holland Village (looking for Melbourne perhaps), armed with his twin and Sidique, to have coffee with me and dinner yet again at Thai Express.

So lazy was this weekend I accomplished very little before Monday came.

Tolerance is a Virtue

2005-08-22T22:25:00.000+08:00

Today there was one person with little capacity for tolerance, flaring up in its insides and projecting its (not unreasonable) grievances subtly yet pointedly--in a calculated fashion-- at some others. Was it a volcanic eruption or trèmble de terre à la scale de 8.5? No clue.

I am not happy.

Guest: Le Deuxième

2005-08-22T06:06:00.000+08:00

William et moi: nous nous sentons comme des garçons de la ville

Gary et William: un certain regarde/amour dans l'atmosphère

Last weekend, I had guests in town again, this time from Kuala Lumpur. William, my fabulous KL party pal was here with a very good friend, Gary, and major close pal, Cass. There was no strict itinerary to follow, this being a leisure trip, except for a quick visit to Men’s Folio Singapore to say hello. Dodging the rain last rainy Saturday afternoon, we went indoors to have coffee, shopped in the day, taking it very easy before our night out. Thanks to Ron’s excellent company, I found it effortless playing the gracious and effervescent host as we headed to Mox for drinks.

It was then I felt as clueless as my guests—I knew no one in the bar, I was going to lit up my cigarette in the non-smoking bar, and almost forgot where the boys’ rooms were. I have been going out too infrequently in Singapore to have a good grip of the scene. As an aside, I have had little reason to go to the bars and clubs in a Singapore where places aren’t reinventing ingeniously fast enough (there’s word about a MOS at the AlsopArchitects-designed Cannery, but I am not holding my breath)—same place, same music, same people, from 1998 (when I was seventeen) till 2005, ad nauseum. A night out in another city in any bar is far more exciting, greater variety, and a major change of scene; and so I find myself going out more often when I am out of the country. Back in Singapore, my only motivation comes from my guests in town or some major occasion like a friend’s birthday.

Adjourning to Happy, we found our experience going up quite a few notches as we downed jugs of vodka cranberry and Bacardi orange sodas. Looks like we were not the only ones there: I ran into Markus, Ryan and Paul, as well as Thomas, a friend I last partied with at DJ Station/Bangkok (and has been coming to Singapore so incred often~) who didn’t tell me he’s in town! Dancing with good o’, up-for-it Ron was probably the greatest thing: a throwback to our partying days during which we were in the military, but such high spirits are extremely hard to replicate and reproduce as we get older, savvier and also more jaded. We ended up at Maxwell for supper (so that our guests could have a more complete experience) before sending them back to Gallery Hotel. Judging from their happy faces, I believe they will be back soon.

Markus’ Homecoming.

2005-08-22T05:00:00.000+08:00

Francis, Markus, Ryan.

D, Jeffrey, Ron: Violent Happy.

In yet another of our Saturday night dinners with the boys, this time we were meeting for a cause. Markus, the boys’ good pal from their Chinese High/Hwa Chong days had just returned to Singapore for a breather from a cushy two year job in Shanghai. Brief as the evening was, the rather bland dining experience (what would you expect from cuisine allemande??) at Werner’s Oven was spiced up by Markus’ anecdotes and time well-spent in Shanghai (even Jeffrey had his two cents’ worth on his recent six-month internship in Shanghai, heh). The best bit was when he talked about him throwing house parties in his apartment not far from Plaza 66, doing the 北上广circuit, and going to Shangri-la, quite a beautiful spot within reasonable distance from Chengdu. Even if my maincourse of schmorbraten wasn’t making me salivate, Markus’ experiences were. In fact, I should be redeeming my Krisflyer miles soon and hightail it to Shanghai.

Over at Sunny and Ivan’s

2005-08-18T14:03:00.000+08:00

Spoofing, but with all due respect: Photography is His Majesty King Bhumibol Adulyadej’s favourite past time and I can’t help but feel that picture alludes to that, presenting a very royal moment. Me, surrounded by my esteemed royalties. Ron, Chris, Kien à ma gauche, et Yaokang à ma droite.
Photo: Winston Leong.
Ivan and Sunny, slicin’ in motion

Yaokang messes around with Kien's fashionable crowning glory

Winston

Zhiwei, Kevin; fatigué à la fin.

Ron looks on intently while Francis gives the background form and shape.

The National Day weekend may long be over, but memories steeped in high spirits endure. Armed with tubs of ice-cream and an array of great chips like Natural Flavours (Honey Dijon), I cabbed over to Sunny and Ivan’s place with Chris. It’s a nice pad high on the ethnic chic quotient, but unfortunately, I haven’t taken any pictures that will do the owners justice! The pair carved out a nice, plush and understated interior from a nondescript shop house unit in Geylang, ethnic-accenting it with pieces of furniture (like beds, cupboards) custom-made in Chiang Mai. There’s even a weathered, old-school, winding staircase that brought guests to the rooftop where we barbecued wings and partook of limoncello and chips with Yaokang’s addictive dip (a mayo-wasabi concoction). We also shared stories (Chris’ recent talent-scouting work trip in Bangalore, my unpleasant bout of sickness post-Pekin, Ryan recalling LAX, Zhiwei just back from KL with Kevin…) while picking at fried vermicelli and mee goreng doggy packed by the hosts from No Sign Board eatery, claypot rice from Geylang Lorong 33, Sunny’s potato-egg salad which was a little on the sweet side, but made a luscious dessert nonetheless. Ron bought us Katong’s famous otah and a chocolate cake from home; paired with Winston’s lychee liquor, there was very little room for anything else after that except for free-flowing conversations.

We were very happy.

Cupple

2005-08-14T23:59:00.000+08:00

Cupple, Propaganda store, Bangkok

Forgive me, but I had to be in Kuala Lumpur for work and had to miss Kevin’s birthday dinner. I’ve not forgotten about the gift nonetheless. A Cupple set of cup and saucer I picked up from the Propaganda store in Bangkok in June. This cute ensemble is an ornamental treasure if you don’t do hot drinks. Oh Propaganda is such a treasure—does anyone remember the legendary Saltepper (sic) Salt and Pepper Shaker (1999) designed by Chaiyut P and his team at Propaganda? Flip the saucer over, lodge the cup’s ear firmly in the rubber depression, and there you have it, a symbolic stereo. Happy Birthday Kevin!

Un Moment Luxueux

2005-08-14T16:15:00.000+08:00

You know I am quite the Bangkok aficionado.

While pouring through a spate of wonderful and well-written English blogs by the denizens of Bangkok, I pounced upon Pipsy and her wonderful weekend villa-stays in Hua Hin/Pranburi. How was I to know that upon passing on the link to good friend Ron, he discovered magic under one of Pipsy's links.

Welcome to Bryanboy's blog, as Ron would happily declare.

Agreed. Bryan is luxury embodied, blogs about his life in Manila with great wit and has a deft grip of the English language, all while casually peppering a smattering of Français beyond the usual limited pool of [excusez-moi, (qu'est que c'est) du jour, très (adjectif mis en place)]--putting many yawn-worthy and carelessly-crafted blogs from our heartland to shame: a worthy personnage indeed. He is clued-in and exhibits great taste as far as words are concerned, even if some are on the blasé side:

Oh, did I mention that his clique also appears with-it enough to rival Bangkok's hiso(s)?

Say hello to Bryan this side of Makati City!

sexy-do-nothing routine

2005-08-14T04:03:00.000+08:00

Il n’y a pas un meilleur moment que maintenant: armchair travelling et pour le mieux.

Jeffrey. Une sourire perfectionnée

There’s nothing better than waking up late on Saturday morning and doing brunches at Marmalade Pantry and rounding it off with their cute limonata cupcakes.

Going to the beach comes a close second. Taking inspiration from Christopher Petkanas’s story, Siren Song, in Travel + Leisure, Jeffrey and I drove to Sentosa’s Siloso beach to indulge in our sexy-do-nothing routine; we made like it was Pantellaria, feeling more Sicilia than Singapura. Petkanas wrote, “In no time, we settled into the sexy-do-nothing routine the island is prized for. The rhythm of our days was dictated by the sun. After lunch, we’d lie about waiting for the temperature to creep down”. While there were no sexy pasticceria(s), flutes of prosecco and ricotta cakes to lull us into believing we were truly on Pantellaria, there was the sun, sand, random hot bodies and National Geographic Traveler (China edition from Peking) to put us in such a mood.

We promptly laid out our to-go beach mat from Krabi and eased into the routine.

Shanghai Baby.

2005-08-12T22:51:00.000+08:00

Huiling et moi, à Zouk

les garçons à la plage: Samuel, Lenco, Gilson

Huiling et moi, encore, à la plage de Siloso

les filles Patricia, Huiling, Christina: celibataire, confiant et disponible

It’s been a good one week since Huiling left for Shanghai. Thanks to National University of Singapore/ NUS’ Overseas College (NOC) program, she’s spending a year attached to Hewlett Packett as a Purchasing Executive, and also spending some time on the side reading modules pertaining to technopreneurship, business and Chinese culture at the esteemed Fudan University where the crème de la crème of China participates in intellectual exchange; preparing to take on the world.

During the weeks leading up to her departure, we had a series of farewell parties held in her honour. She threw a party at her house a week before leaving, inviting forty of her closest friends for an intimate soirée, bonding over sweet and sour pork, lasagna, bruschetta with marinated and diced tomatoes, otah, macaroni salad, kebabs and the like. My pals—from LAF1201/Elementary French class, 4 semesters back—and I bought her a chic notebook from style-savvy stationary shop, Prints, so that she can put her thoughts on paper (thank you Edmund!), but it looks like she may not need it now with her new Xanga blog ;) A sizeable entourage then adjourned to Phuture/Wednesday with Huiling where we carved out our own space downing lambourghinis, sour apple shooters, e33s and other mixes; lapping up the great company and forgetting for a moment that Huiling’s leaving. Later on we moved on to Zouk to take in the cheese; and as the sound systems belted out familiar crowd-pleasing favourites to the tune of “oh plea--ase… won’t you stay a little longer…”, I felt a mild pang of grief, and it suddenly hit me that Huiling was really, really leaving. The final goodbye came that Friday when our lot went to Sentosa for a spot of tanning and a round of beach volleyball…

And sure, we would miss her for her youthful vigour and spirit, and flavourful presence when we go to parties together, tanning at NUS’ pool, lunches at Arts Canteen, French lessons with the Francophiles.

Can she take on Shanghai? Even though she expresses great ambivalence towards adapting in so chinois a city, I think frequent visits to more cosmo spots like Bund 18, Three on the Bund, or even MoGanShan (an art district like Beijing’s Dashanzi, where art galleries are housed in old factories) should sooth her senses comfortably in a city in transition like Shanghai. Thankfully, I also managed to tap on some old contacts, and soon, they’d be bringing Huiling out for coffee, and hopefully, even dinner in their homes! My friend, Bill, an ex-editor of a Chinese daily is now studying Deutsch in Berlin, but has managed to activate his friends to get them in touch with Huiling, one of them being Monica, an ex-intern at his daily. My other Singapore friend Ginny knows a Shanghainese (Vicky/Huifen) in her school, Melbourne University, and Vicky has been kind to introduce some really local Shanghainese contacts to Huiling. Finally, my Bangkok friend, Chad, has a well-heeled Thai friend, Chong, studying Chinese in Shanghai—let’s hope he shows Huiling how to have a good time in Shanghai. =)

What better way to make Huiling feel comfortable than to pay her a visit the next (school) holiday? If everything goes according to plan, I shall redeem my miles on Krisflyer and make a trip to Shanghai and ask the girl to show me the town. We’ll eat xiaolongbaos, drink tea and speak Shanghainese. What a great way to spend winter.

Kuala Lumpur’s Underrated Beauty

2005-08-09T01:58:00.000+08:00

C'est Moi encore; in the reflection of an elaborately-carved, wood-framed mirror at the Kuala Lumpur Crafts Complex.

KL is so near yet so far.

I could coach there in six hours, or fly there and spend a good four hours from point to point. But either way, it’s quite a chore so I end up going to Bangkok more often.

The lure of friends is what keeps me going back, however. William, a journalist whom I met on a junket to Ancona/Italy, is one person I hang out with pretty often in KL. We managed to touch base on Friday night at Liquid’s relaunch party, after which we drove off to Frangipani with his friend Ken (self-professed mediawhore who happens to own the Apothecary at Lot 10; Annick Goutal, Aesop!) and Melvin (ex-Publisher of V Magazine). The vibe’s great as usual, chilled and upbeat all at the same time. Like a fabulous host, William introduced me to more than a dozen faces that night, of which, Brian/Bryan seemed most agreeable—and dare I say it—stunning. I didn’t even get to say hello to my Fashion Editor, Brian, until the end of the night. We met for coffee again on Sunday afternoon together with Kelvin at San Francisco Coffee/Lot 10 (which is the all-time Boys’ Central), and even had time to drop by at Low Yat Plaza to grab a few DVDs.

I also met Kin, who picked me up at my lobby at Nikko Hotel, and we had tea at Aseana Café. I’ve come to realize that it’s a really beautiful place with great clothes, homewares, and even food and crowd to boot! (Hats off to Farah Khan. Does good friend Lorraine Hahn get many goodies and private viewing when new collections come in?) As Kin laboured over his lunch of rojak and porridge, he took pains to tell me about his new concept for his soon-to-be-revamped Igewels jewellery store. Thanks to the tight schedule, we didn’t get to make it to Klang for seafood, nor the drool-worthy bakuteh done in a dry fashion—the soup comes on the side while the main portion of pork is piqued with spices and jiuhuchar. We both felt it was a shame that we didn’t get to see his new, beautiful home in Bangsar (an area which is burgled quite often unfortunately; Kin lost RM 6000 and audio equipment from his car in a wink), which would surely be what my editors at V Magazine are looking for. So small is KL, that I ran into Kin and his friend Robert (just back from the warzone that is London) at a really popular eatery on Jalan Alor on the night before my departure. But no matter, I’ll come back again in a few months, and also catch Wai Kit, former Chief Editor at V Magazine, with whom I work closely with. I’m also waiting for William to send me an invite to the Malaysian International Fashion Awards come November. =)

Oh and did I mention that I was in KL for work?

As a guest of Tourism Malaysian, we were hosted in Kuala Lumpur for a six-day media junket at the service-driven Nikko Hotel, and were brought on a whirlwind tour of the malls (Curve, Starhill Gallery, KLCC), shows during Utusan Melayu’s Fashion Week (featuring batik and bumiputra splendour) and various other touristy sights. What was very beautiful about this trip was that I saw a very beautiful side of KL that I’ve never seen. And how apt that I should see it only ten years after my first trip to KL when I was fourteen, and with my Klangite friend.

At the touristy Saloma restaurant with its uninspired buffet selection, I saw the richness and great colours of a (Malay) culture that I previously knew little about. The costumes on the bodies of the abled dancers came alive under the spotlight, and for once, I was rooted to my chair. Equally mesmerizing was the wedding ceremony exhibition at the Kuala Lumpur Crafts complex where I saw displays, ornaments, costumes and the works in pink, gold and light green—refreshing and pompous at the same time, creative and inspiring all the same. On the fashion front, trad-chic Noor Arfa and recently (and in an even greater way) Tom Abang Saufi have been bringing batik and ethnic wear to more fashionable frontiers—even Jimmy Choo would be proud.

Over the years since Putrajaya came into being, very little publicity has been done for the extremely, unjustly underrated township, which I rate the best attraction of the Selangor state, ever. As an A-list sight, it is calm, stately and magnificent with a hint of Islamia in its government offices and edifices, broad and grand boulevards, the modern Vision bridge and the sight of the awesome mosque in the distance. If this is the new face of KL, I am relocating and first in line! I highly recommend a day devoted to a close study of the buildings in the area; I wonder if Cyberjaya is as breathtaking. The well-designed and informative Royal Selangor Pewter Gallery has also been bypassed in favour of shopping in Bintang; apart from plugging pewter creatively, there is also a School of Hard Knocks where I learnt to knock characters (essentially just my name and date) into a pewter bowl; it then becomes a visitor’s souvenir afterwards.

Even Starhill Gallery is shaping up as the new Gaysorn Plaza (Chitlom, Bangkok) as it opens its newly-refurbished doors. Gaysorn Plaza, formerly a quiet shopping mall in the late nineties, has rejuvenated itself and wrestled excellent tenants and shoppers from worthy competitor, Emporium Shopping Centre. And at the hopeful Starhill Gallery, pots of lengthy twigs as well as sprigs of fresh green slender leaves have been placed in calculated positions to evoke a certain sense of luxury in the interiors, while Francis Yeoh’s YTL management has lured even the likes of Asprey to set up a store there. The Feast level in the basement plays host to a varied mix of restaurants, of which the most promising are Singaporean-owned Vansh, a North Indian restaurant, the newly-chic, Hong Kong-owned Luk Yu Tea House, and Bangkok-owned My Thai by Jim Thompson eatery which was playing contemporary Thai pop at lunch hour. A very beautiful mirrored passage way punctuated by gleaming lights has been tastefully constructed to link Starhill Gallery to Marriott Hotel; remember the Swarovski-studded interiors of the washrooms in London's Sketch? (Marriott Hotel, however, is not scoring points with me for its small and overpriced rooms at RM360, compared to generously big ones at Shangri-la at RM225.) Perhaps I might also add that Arabs would soon become a permanent mobile fixture at the Starhill Gallery as their spending power is unsurpassed; of late, Arab has become KL’s unofficial third language, appearing in tourist publications, maps and even entry/exit signs at key tourist sights; halal food, kebabs and doses of shisha are all aplenty in the Bintang district.

As the trip wound to an end, I was surprised to find Ron in KL. I came back one evening from a late-night dinner and there he was sitting in the lobby of Nikko Hotel nursing a mock mojito. We talked for the next four hours before turning in, and spent the next morning browsing the heartlander Ampang Mall, where I packed off a box of baklava for my family, with fellow journo, Shazna. If only Ron had arrived a few days before, we could have gone out to see the town together, but oh well. And before long, we found ourselves in the hotel’s car bound for KLIA for the cumbersome one-hour flight (but four hour journey) back to Singapore.

It’s an Honour.

2005-08-09T00:41:00.000+08:00

Ohla! Today’s the first day of school and it’s a 5K module. Titled SC 5201 Concept Formation and Theory Building, it does sound a little daunting. But I was sold right away when my professor Alatas did the sales pitch when I was in school. He cited that it’d draw from works discussed in previous modules like Religion (chiefly conceptual issues like the Problem of Defining Religion) and Interpretive Sociology (Weber’s Protestant Ethic, Mannheim’s Ideology and Utopia). Understanding how concepts come to be formed in Sociology is a very interesting and necessary intellectual exercise. We’d also be tackling marginal concepts (those introduced by marginalized groups like women/gays), Sociology as Sorcery, and the Sociology of Concepts (how the similar concepts could be more different than we think, when they are conceptualized and understood in different societies, time frame and milieu).

Glad to see that there are more people than I thought. 13 is a comfortable. I saw only two persons bidding earlier—not exactly conducive an environment for bouncing ideas off each other. There are familiar students from last year’s Honours class who are now Masters students. I have two other fellow Honours level classmates, as well as a whole host of graduate students from varying backgrounds: working adults, one Danish, one Filipino, a few Chinese nationals. And Monsieur Alatas himself to add to the cosmo mix. Délicieux.

Johor Bahru

2005-08-08T17:43:00.000+08:00

C'est Moi
et Ron
Chilli Crabs
Jeffrey
Malcolm, le bon gentilhomme taking a dig at the calamari!

Cheap. What good does it do for us when the element of good taste is sorely lacking? How cheap is JB anyway? But get away we will. Living in tiny Singapore—I cant emphasize this enough—it’s imperative that we take off every now and then to shake off the feeling of claustrophobia. I think the denizens of teeny-weeny Macau and Monaco share similar sentiments as they make the under-15minute short hop to Zhuhai and Nice (or Grasse/Banlieu Sur Mer if they so fancy) respectively to get a feel of the greater world out there.

Speaking of cheap, Bangkok is way cheaper. And (good) taste is guaranteed—if you know where to look. Follow the cheesed out set, oh bollocks, don’t blame it on Bangkok when you end up at MBK, in Patpong or on Khao San Road (and whining there ain’t no cool Bangkok), you did yourself in on this one. On a positive note, if anyone’s paying any attention to Thonglor’s rise, you’d know there’s H1, J Avenue, Playground, and Noble Developmentt is even thinking of upping the ante by building a more upmarket version of H1. Ooh, bling it on~

But to its credit, the food in Johor Bahru is not bad. Jeffrey and Malcolm bought Ron and I dinner at Taman Sentosa (not bad, even if it’s not the best; and more parking space needed, really) where we had succulent Johorean calamaris, chilli crab, stir-fried kailan, jiaohuaji and more.

Let me set for the record that what we enjoyed more was the excellent company more so than the food (doggybagged matisus and shaobaos) or shopping (managed to get Yon’s Colour Blossoms, Tsai’s Wayward Cloud, Tsui’s Seven Swords yay!)

Pair that with the major change of scene, and you could be feeling, well, you aren’t in Singapore.

ps: Jeff, did you like the MarcNewson-green ashtray from Loft/Bangkok? ^^

Guest.

2005-08-04T15:35:00.000+08:00

V Tea Room, Esplanade, Singapore.

Vanilla Room, Playground, Bangkok.

Playground, Sukhumvit Soi 55, Thonglor 18/20, Bangkok.

Last weekend, Wisnu sprang a surprise on me when he text--while I was having a game of beach volleyball at Siloso Beach--to say he was boarding the next TG flight to Singapore. Coming from a wedding in Jakarta, he was in town for just two nights before zipping off to Bangkok. I decided to play the gracious host since his good friend, Hata, gave me a fabulous tour and even greater memories of Yogyakarta last summer. (Bali was magic.) Trapped in the rain, we ended up lunching at Harbourfront instead of going to Sentosa. I ordered yongtaufoo and fried carrot cake, which turned out to be more than we could finish, since he already had a serving of chicken rice. No idea if he liked it. ;)

Exasperated by my inability to speak Bahasa Indonesia, I thought it wise to bring him on a visually-stimulating tour rather than one steeped in conversations and personal experience/anecdotes. Orchard Road was the obvious choice, where he piled on kitschy souvenirs screaming Singapore. Esplanade’s durian glory was another Kodak moment; so I helped him snap lots. We finally wound up at the V Tea Room, which reminded me of a Sunday afternoon back in April. At the wicked multi-label store called Playground in Bangkok, I brought my host, Chad, and his British guests to brunch at its ground floor café called Vanilla Room, which was not only charmingly Victorian (old school design and attendants in matron uniforms blew me away) but also deliciously chocolate. Back at the V Tea Room/Esplanade, I ran through the Bangkok images in the deep recesses of my memory as we sipped our caffé(s) in relative silence, watching the rain beat down the streets of One Raffles Boulevard.

Ron’s Birthday Do.

2005-08-03T11:49:00.000+08:00

Ron
Dennis.

Huiguorou

Yay. It’s Ron’s 24^th. We walked into Lao Beijing at Plaza Singapura and ordered more than we could finish. huiguorou, Slivers of pork to be fed into tofu layers (and later to be transformed into wantons in the magic hands of the birthday boy), Double-boiled soup of lingzhi and pork, Beijing-style noodles, sanbeiji (a stew of chicken infused with a portion of vinegar, another of wine and yet another of sugar). Thankfully portions were smaller than the agrarian/humongous ones that Ron was fed during his many trips (six) to Beijing previously. Needless to say, I thank Lao Beijing for not stuffing me to the gills even before I finish my Xidan dandanmian. A few weeks ago, I didn’t even get to try the roubing(s) in a particular hutong after I was done with my zhajiangmian.

At Lao Beijing, something nasty happened on our way to bliss. We had a family (not Singaporean, I'm sure) of four next to us. There were these two boisterous teenage sons (eighteen looking sixteen)—ugly boys with bad taste—who took off their lousy shoes to try on their cheap Adidases and treated us to a round of Hongkong feet on the house. As if that wasn’t enough, they also spewed bad English and evoked even more bad English from their parents as the latter was keen to demonstrate to our table some semblance of linguistic ability. They were better off speaking Cantonese as they do in Hong Kong.

At the Twin Towers Sky Bridge, Kuala Lumpur

2005-08-02T11:58:00.000+08:00

photo: Rosli, commissioned by Tourism Malaysia.
The Journalists and I

Just Back: Beijing

2005-07-31T01:35:00.000+08:00

Last December’s trip to Beijing was a really rushed affair as I booked myself on a tour from Zhuhai in a jiffy. Speeding through the thoroughfares of Jianguomenwai and Dongzhimennei, spending time the equivalent of a firefly’s lifespan at sights like Forbidden City and the Great Wall, I felt I have been watching a movie on the side of my tourbus all this while.

This trip (on my own, and with complete autonomy) I was interested in doing local. Poking into people’s homes in the hutongs was mandatory—without necessarily intruding, and with my camera stuffed in the ocean depths of my yellow duffel of course—as were RMB3 subway and RMB1 bus rides. Squeezed in there with the locals on bus 988, I hobnobbed with the locals to the tune of the honky wonkies and wasted engines, deep breathing in exhaust fumes in all its unfettered/unadulterated glory. RMB3-4 noodles at the neighbourhood eatery were also daily affairs. Like a Londoner spending a pristine Saturday afternoon at the galleries of Hoxton/Shoreditch, I combed mine at the Dashanzi Art District where the world-famous 798 Art Gallery resides. The old disused factories reminded me of parts of London’s Spitalfields and Zürich’s Industrial Zone, especially with their raw brick facades and chimneys reaching into the sky. (The East End Chaochangti Art District is another one which I have yet to see.)

I am deeply enamoured by the Soviet charm. The prefab buildings are straight out of Ost Berlin’s Friedrichshain while the subway platforms, while short of the artistic beauty of Moscow’s and Pyongyang’s, has more flavour than the ancient relics of Ost Berlin. I could stand and stare at buildings and subway platform designs (lamps, murals, spatial design) for eons.

It is not hard to like Beijing. The people are friendly, unlike the denizens of the South whom I have to put up with a great deal. I am saying this even though I am technically a Southerner, with roots in Xinhui, Guangdong Province. The Bejingers, like the Romans, live in a city enveloped by history. Places like Qianmen, Jianguomen, Dongzhimen, Dongdan and Xidan etc all have a story to tell. Finally, I speak of Beijing’s great size with the same passion as size queens do. It’s me in the embrace of the Goliathic boulevards and skyscrapers; the great generosity city planners lend to city planning suggests a certain sense of big-heartedness in such a big city (and by extension, country), and even the humongous portions of food are microcosmic of the city. I like how such a big city swallows me whole as I gawk at it; me, a big-small city boy indulging in the romantic make-believe role of a third world rural-urban migrant (RUM, as geographers love to say). When size combines with great design at Jianwai Soho, Pan Shiyi’s chic urban development, you could be sold. (Though regrettably, some shabby tenants don’t quite match up to Pan’s vision)

Just Back: Kuala Lumpur

2005-07-29T11:44:00.000+08:00

Photo: Ou Shiyi, China Daily.

Me, dancing with Shahnaz, Features Writer of the Bangladeshi daily, The Daily Star, at the foot of the KL Tower. So mesmerized was the Dhaka native by the piped-in waltzy sounds of the viewing deck-restaurant that she wanted to dance. I slipped into my dancing shoes immediately.

Me, in the auditorium of the KLPAC.

Baklava, RM1, a sure sign that the Arabs have arrived.

The beautiful Zed Zaidi makes an appearance in local designers' garb at An Evening With the Stars at the Nikko Hotel during Kuala Lumpur Fashion Week.

KLites' new pride and glory--the KLPAC, Kuala Lumpur Performing Arts Centre--resides in the core of an ex-warehouse, partially-funded and owned by Francis Yeoh.

Kuala Lumpur's unofficial third language is...

Putrajaya: The hint of Arabia makes my knees go weak.

Homegrown- Vansh goes global as it opens its first restaurant overseas at the Feast of newly-refurbished and suitably-glam Starhill Gallery.

The view from Twin Towers' skybridge.

The new face of Bumiputras.

KLCC/Twin Towers; for the nth time.

Wearable ethnic chic at the Kuala Lumpur Arts & Crafts complex.

Putrajaya: Pekingnese proportions.

Explosion of colours at a Malay dance.

Fireworks at The Curve.

A nice dose of royalty juxtaposed by a pink backdrop; the scene of a Malay wedding ceremony as exhibited at the Kuala Lumpur Arts and Crafts Complex.

Modernity takes root at the Royal Selangor Pewter Centre.

Never knew wedding ceremonies could look so richly chic.

Homecoming: Jeffrey

2005-07-20T20:55:00.000+08:00

Jeffrey returned to Singapore not only with great memories of his attachment but also a very use-able carry-on bag from Xiang Yang Shi Chang/Shanghai.

Yayness. Jeffrey is finally back from Shanghai. Ron and I missed him so bad when he left Singapore early January for his work attachment—fulfilled as part of his undergraduate program—in China. Meeting up with him for the first time, I bet Ron was thrilled. During dinner, Jeffrey dished out the gifts from China, a crystal ball painting for Ron, a sling bag (which would be handy for as a no-fuss ‘carry-on’ bag) and a watch (from Bangkok, that reads time for two time zones simultaneously) for me. We went on to have drinks at the very unglamorous Borders café (bad service; brainless and godawful-ugly waitresses) where we exchanged more stories and bared exploits. Glad that Jeff looked suitably delighted with the wood-carved name card holder from my trip to Hoi An. On the topic of souvenirs, I had begun using my coin pouch (in a delicious shade of ciocolatto) from Guadalajara/Mexico, while I passed on the caramel one to Ron on Fourth of July.

2005-07-19T12:30:00.000+08:00

The wonders one can find in hutong(s). A cold side dish (liang cai) of beef slices tossed with parsley and in soya sauce and sesame oil. Very palatable. RMB 3. Pekin.

2005-07-19T12:26:00.000+08:00

Pillars of Communist faith at the Museum of Chinese History. Pekin.

2005-07-18T03:41:00.000+08:00

Rou Bing, crepes stuffed with meat and onions, make incredibly long walks in Beijing at least bearable. Pekin.

2005-07-18T03:40:00.000+08:00

Jianwai SOHO: Man, i could live here. Pekin.

2005-07-18T03:39:00.001+08:00

Jianwai SOHO, Pekin.

2005-07-18T03:39:00.000+08:00

Jianwai SOHO, property magnet Pan Shiyi's hot property in the Guomao/Dong 3 Huan district is flying off the shelves. Shorthand for Small Office, Home Office, rather than South of Houston, units here are occupied by a mixed bag of businesses like design agencies, restaurants, bars, cafes, laundromats, hair salons, real estate offices, gyms etc. Pekin.

2005-07-18T03:35:00.000+08:00

Feeling so dogged while taking five at a cafe carved out from another factory unit, no less, behind 798 Gallery. Pekin.

2005-07-18T03:31:00.000+08:00

The famous 798 Art Gallery a the Dashanzi Art District is housed in a former state-run electronics factory; Bauhaus-style architecture influence is apparent in this building, which was built by East Germans, and the construction commissioned by the Soviets. Pekin.

2005-07-18T02:58:00.000+08:00

Zha Jiang Mian-- cold noodles accompanied by saucy meats and refreshing cucumber shreds; perfect when the mercury's rising in July, conspiring with the fog and fumes and threatening to the make the air near-unubreathable. Pekin.

2005-07-18T02:53:00.000+08:00

Melt-your-heart milk candy, so good (and cute) it made it to the Short Orders pages of Wallpaper*. RMB 4.85/ pack. Pekin.

2005-07-18T02:51:00.000+08:00

Underground subway station at Jianguomen evokes the air (and a charming one at that) of other Soviet-style stations in Moscow and Pyongyang. Pekin.

2005-07-18T02:48:00.000+08:00

Home of Lao She, one of the most prolific writers in the history of China's contemporary literature, Pekin.

2005-07-18T02:41:00.000+08:00

The Lure of Mao, Tiananmen Square, Pekin.

One Saturday

2005-07-11T00:59:00.000+08:00

A red from Guangzhou

Claiming my rightful spot in the civilian world post-reservist.training, I accepted Huiling’s invitation to dinner at her place on Saturday night. Making the trek to her house on Recreation Road was worth it for the very robust curry chicken prepared by her mom, as well as Huiling’s own rendition of a rather proper lasagna.

Imbibing began right away, first her own white, and then a red which I bought in Guangzhou earlier in January during a trip back to my mom’s hometown (and also a clandestine visit to meet Xiao Sen). The Great Wall Red Wine tasted like, pardonnez-moi, Ribena—what went wrong?

Hopping on Benson’s car, we sped to Cocolatte where we joined friends of Huiling and Christina for an unpretentious round of drinks which included vodka redbulls, lambourghini(s) and alcoholic sodas, all while sliding to the with-it lilt of rhythm and blues. Although Huiling ended up pissed prematurely, it was good seeing her having a good time (which recalled SATC), all dress-ed up, spending freely on drinks, flitting around in an insouciant fashion in the midst of great and varied company made up of our NUS mates and others. Suitably inebriated moments, smooth sounds and a wonderful party contributed to a great night out, however short-lived.

SloMosVille: Rushing to Wait, Waiting to Rush

2005-07-08T23:12:00.000+08:00

Reservist training is finally over. Emerging from a long-drawn out battle (what else, against the system surely!) in SloMosVille (coded for: army camp), I couldn’t be happier. We rush to wait, and then, yet, we wait to rush. Singaporean boys would know that I am bitching to a familiar refrain. As usual, the powers-that-be that run the army have little capacity for cognition. This charge is piled up on top of others like ill-coordinated efforts, resulting in messed up organization and timetables. We wake up or book in extremely early so that we may wait hours for the next thing to happen. We sleep hours on end on some days, and rush non-stop on others, like fall in at 0500h to go to range. I may be (slow and run) on Italian time (which is so la dolce vita, by the way), but the army runs on army time. I haven’t figured out amazing solutions for such pandemonium but I suggest they privatize the army and bring in the mercenaries and experts whose notion of efficiency is probably closer to that of the civilian world.

Despite the above charges, the experience of the soldier who returns could be construed and viewed in a more positive fashion.

Powered by sociological thought, I’ve ceased to believe that I am an arts-humanities student enabled solely in languages and social theory—extracting myself from the pigeonhole (hoisted in there by psychologists, of course, thank you very much), I’ve adopted a new and positive attitude towards learning skills in the field of technology. This school of non-essentialist and category-defying thought goes like this: no one is particularly abled in one field or the other (science or humanities). Such categories are, after all, constructions; language giving form to some sort of ‘tangible reality’. Taking a heightened level of interest in the high-tech machines that I came in touch with during the training, and feeling like I could master them, was very, very liberating indeed.

Similarly, range has proved to be fun—it’s not just a preoccupation of military-mad boys, but could also add some color to footloose urbanites like myself. Playing around with M16s to the beat of Firers, watch your front, I saw the beauty of the experience; 5 other mates and I worked together to gun down 6 targets that appeared in various different lanes—the sheer unpredictability of the targets’ appearance made the experience feel so live (and in the real world). Furthermore, under new test regulations, firers are required to correct any sort of firing problems (say, rounds stuck in the chamber) on their own without any assistance.

Finally, there’s the nights-off experience revisited. Going to Ang Mo Kio for dinner (spectacular chicken chops, cutlets and fish and chips heartlander-style) at S11 with my army mates was a trip down memory lane, absolutely dripping with nostalgia. It was like 2000/2001 again: pigging out at S11 food centre, after-dinner drinks (bubble tea, so fashionable then and yet so cheesy now) at the, for lack of a better word, piazza (or place or plaza), and then movies (War of the Worlds; to me, a projection of the American psyche and zeitgeist more than anything else: terrorism and fear of the Other/Arabs as embodied in the invasion by the oddball tripods; and so worth my S$7 for the fact that the cast went through so many puke-worthy moments caked in grime!). So down-to-earth was the night out it that it’s a great respite from many urban moments steeped in excesses.

In an abrupt about-turn, I’d choose not to return for reservist training—ever.

Many Returns: Bring Them On!

2005-07-03T01:31:00.000+08:00

Ribs and slabs of chicken jazzed up with itsy-bitsy smatterings of bacon and raisins as well as cherry tomatoes and cherries in season at Chris' dinner party.

Fresh from his sojourn to Italy, London and Bangkok/Hua Hin, Chris threw a sit-down dinner party for eight this evening at his spacious bachelor’s pad on Alexandra Road. Quite a few highlights that evening, as Kevin bought a delicioso chocolate cake for Ron and Francis who are celebrating their birthdays this month, paired with a smooth dessert wine that Francis bought at Changi Airport. (Yes, Francis has finally returned from his long drawn out work trip in Uluville in Sweden, and the flight involved painful transits in Bangkok, Copenhagen and Stockholm. Scream. Kevin’s also back from done-to-death albeit memorable Bangkok/Chiang Mai. I'm twice-back from Guadalajara and Reservist Training Week One) Kevin’s Zhi Wei had a taste of our group outings. Sunny and Ivan’s collection of liquor and inflight magazines are growing by the day—though there’s not much limoncello left, I have to pay a visit to their place asap to get a taste of it soon. And I gave Chris a wood-carved name-card holder which I scoured from a wood-carving village from Hoi An, a coastal town two hours from Danang in Vietnam—I liked to think that made his day, seeing that he was in need of one for his work trip to Tianjin and Hunan two weeks from now.

Fabuluoso news: I found my Temporary Pass which I lost earlier. That gets me entry into Seletar East Camp during my reservist stint, and costs a whopping S$50 to have it replaced. In my humble opinion, it’s not even worth a fiver—no barcodes, no elaborate fancy design job, nothing. I had a bad feeling that I lost it while snacking at Shih Lin Snacks, Harbourfront, one evening—which made my very first oyster mee sua experience so not worth it—but it’s really been sitting in an obscure corner in my house all this while. Major relief.

My Bangkok friend, Thomas, is in town again but had no decency to call earlier until just now (0130h). See, I don't mean to be rude. I'm not officially accepting any post-midnight appointments until tomorrow morning. Maybe brunch would do.

2005-07-02T12:13:00.000+08:00

Sesame cakes, Saturday mid-day snack, from Xiamen, made in Shanghai.

Just Back: Guadalajara, Mexico.

2005-07-02T10:14:00.000+08:00

Contre la treatro de Degollado, la vida esta perfecto para un aficionado a la arquitectura come mi.

Does anyone know where Guadalajara is?

I had no idea. But a quick google showed up some anwers: the second city of Mexico.

Mexico has been on my mind for a while. I remember the green cabs, the old-school Camino Real Hotel and modern Habita Hotel in a story on Mexico City which appeared in Travel + Leisure some years back. Some months back, I happened to pounce upon a book sale after classes in NUS and saw an old edition of Born To Shop: Mexico—written by the legendary shopperholic, Suzy Gershman—going for a song. It’s part my collection of books at home, and finally, it’s seeing the light of day. Recently the online edition of GQ ran a pictorial celebrating Mexico in all its permutations: soccer, new hip ‘hoods, guacamole and the works. That sealed my love for Mexico but unfortunately was KIV-ed until…

Transiting in Hong Kong and San Francisco (and a quick visit to Market Street on the BART), the lengthy journey (during which I also watched the very apt Spanglish) soon came to an end on a Mexicana Airlines flight to Guadalajara on a Sunday morning. Accompanied by fellow Mexicans on the same flight, a major change of scene was soon to begin.

This first trip to the Latino world proved to be quite eye-opening, pardon the cliché. To my knowledge, Mexican cities are part cities-in-transitions and part historical-treasure-troves. The latter was what I had little expectations of, and I was thrilled to see that in abundance. Making my way through the city’s many iglesia(s), plaza(s), avenida(s) y calle(s), the landscape reminded me of Palermo, a hodgepodge of old structures amid circa-70s concrete. Charming structures and spaces include: the Teatro de Degollado with its strong columns, the Palaccio de Gobierno with its left-of-centre murals by Orozco, Plaza de la Liberacion, Regional Museo de Guadalajara, Plaza Tapatia with its 70s/80s structures, the tren ligero/electrico (subway) of another era…

I have never spoken Español before but this trip demanded me to the moment I arrived at the Aeropuerto Internacional de Guadalajara. Bringing together my four semesters of French, bits and pieces of Italiano and twenty-four years of Ingles, I mustered the courage, at six in the morning, to ask a fellow passenger at the customs queue, “Esta la linea para personages para Ciudad de Mexico?” [Is that the queue for passengers who are MexicoCity-bound?] in a bid to know what’s going on; turns out that some of our fellow passengers were rushing to catch another connecting flight to Mexico City and therefore siphoned to a shorter immigration queue to expedite their transit. Having mastered numbers in Italiano, it was only a matter of taking note of some minor differences when utilizing the Italian language indiscriminatingly in Spanish conversations. Uno, due, tre, quatro, cento became un, dos, tres, cuatro, cientos. Useful words like por, por que, cuando, esta, etc were picked up with great ease because of their relative similarity to per, per che, quando, e in Italiano and pour, pourquoi, quand, est, in French. And let’s not get to the cognates.

Rightfully speaking, the first thing I attacked in Guadalajara wasn’t so much the architectural sights which I love raving about. It’s the food. The Mexican food as we know it is everywhere, in the restaurants, the markets, the streets. Together with Mexicans in their Sunday best, I joined them at La Goda for brunch, where I ordered a torta, a chunky meat sandwich wholly dunked in tomato sauce. I often dropped by at little unremarkable cantina(s) where I would try out quesadilla(s), gringo(s) and the like, pockets of goodness filled with shaved meats. A dash of lime and a generous hand of guacamole are excellent finishing touches. Equally nondescript are its markets, punctuated by bouts of passion emanating from the ceviche (which I forgot to try~!), taco(s), burrito(s)… I had a hearty meat stew at a market stall; myself perched on a high stool by the chef’s kitchen, I went about dressing the delicioso stew up with lime and chopped raw onions and made little pocket salads with tortilla(s). Having had little hindsight, I OD-ed on the carbo-wraps and had little room to try out the other offers. Damn, I gotta visit some mercado some time soon.

On the last day, I scrambled to get some shopping done, seeing that I needed to bring back some tangible memories. Hours later, having ventured into the district of Mina where the real people shop (one that looks like a sunny, dusty, border town), I emerged with a Latino-flavoured off-white cinturón for belting up during this harsh economic slowdown, coin pouches screaming ‘cowboy’, a ‘¡Soy un angel!’ ringer tee which fits and I really like, and a comfy Hecho en Guanatos baby blue tee-short good for those dressed-down longhauls. Shopping was rounded off with a visit to Oriental Bar frquented by locals--which looks straight out fromAl Capone's Prohibition 60s surely.

All in all, I was very captivated by the Latino charm, spirit, hospitality, friendliness, as well as the party spirit, which is a close approximation to the Italian la dolce vita. With more time, I would have made my way to Puerto Vallarta, Acapulco, (spring break!) Cancun and Ciudad de Mexico.

On my back via Los Angeles and Narita, I regretted not staying for a few days. I could do with a visit to the beach communities at Santa Monica really. Will take a rain check.

2005-06-29T20:57:00.000+08:00

Walking in the shadows of the Cathderal. GDL, Mex.

2005-06-29T20:55:00.000+08:00

Guadalajaran specialty, La Torta, is a meat sandwich wholly-dunked in tomato sauce and then served. GDL, Mex.

2005-06-29T20:54:00.000+08:00

The fine arches of the Palacio del Gobernio add instant beauty to the landscape. GDL, Mex.

2005-06-29T20:53:00.000+08:00

Plaza de la Liberacion, with the Cathedral in the background. GDL, Mex.

2005-06-29T20:51:00.000+08:00

School children from the suburbs marvel at the political art of Jos� Clementine Orozco on the walls of the Palacio del Gobernio. GDL, Mex.

2005-06-29T20:48:00.000+08:00

Sunday family brunch in an 18th C building is always charming. GDL, Mex.

2005-06-29T06:21:00.000+08:00

A Carousel! At the charming Plaza de la Armas. GDL, Mex.

2005-06-29T06:06:00.000+08:00

The San Francisco church sets the stage for the arched-park. GDL, Mex.

2005-06-29T06:04:00.000+08:00

Guacamole and lime juice to bring tapatia bites to new heights. GDL, Mex.

2005-06-29T06:03:00.000+08:00

Degollado Theater, man i love the strong columns. GDL, Mex.

2005-06-28T22:21:00.000+08:00

Beef Stew (35 pesos) mopped up with helpings of tortillas at the Mercado Liberacion. GDL/Mex.

2005-06-28T21:57:00.000+08:00

Delicious shopping mall facades brighten up lonely walks in Guadalajara, Mex.

2005-06-28T21:47:00.000+08:00

Kicking off my shoes at the balcony of my room and taking in the cacophony of sounds on Calle Lopez Lotilla. GDL/Mex.

2005-06-28T21:34:00.000+08:00

Palacio del Gobernio, Government Palace, GDL/Mex.

2005-06-28T21:08:00.000+08:00

Nursing a Sangria in Oriental Bar, located in the real and local district near Mercado Liberacion. The scene looks straight out from Al Capone's Prohibition 60s. GDL/Mex.

2005-06-28T21:06:00.000+08:00

Splashes of color: Bringing on a slice of Havana/Cuba. GDL/Mex.

2005-06-28T21:03:00.000+08:00

Gringos: Quesadilla-esque pockets of shaved meats, celery, raw onions with a dash of guacamole y lime juice. GDL/Mex.

2005-06-28T20:55:00.000+08:00

A picture of dreaminess on Avenida Hidalgo, Guadalajara/GDL, Mexico.

2005-06-28T20:04:00.000+08:00

A quick jaunt on the BART while transiting at SFO. San Francisco.

Military Blues

2005-06-28T19:40:00.000+08:00

I was pleasantly surprised that the journey back home from Seletar (military) Camp was to be this smooth. All thanks to the North East Line, I sped up my journey by training it from Serangoon to Harbourfront. While I am not thrilled about being out in the civilian world, getting out every night is actually quite therapeutic; it might be a bit on the troublesome side, but my physical presence outside the military camp takes my mind away from it. Today my platoon mate just reminded me of the ‘monkey see monkey do’ trick—one shouldn’t think too much about the travail of being back for military training; instead, one should just go through motion, take it easy, indulge in idle conversations with fellow prisoners, and time passes. Yayness.

Just a few days ago, I was still highly ambivalent about going back for reservist training. I had just returned from Mexico and was busy coping with writing two stories for V Mag August. While exploring Hou Hsiao-hsien’s subaltern-esque style of historiography was interesting, I wished I had more time to give more thought to the stories. I had accepted Huiling’s invitation to a steamboat session with her fun friends from school even though I was up to my ears with work. A part of me just wanted to have fun. Saturday night stretched into Sunday morning as we had a great night out at a rather unlikely location called Clarke Quay. Nevertheless, I would it again. Only thing though I spent the rest of Sunday night working on the stories and went to report to camp without sleep. Thankfully, I survived.

Claudie’s news is great news. Her expat friends from Bangkok are coming to Singapore next weekend and would like to have me show them the town. More than happy to!

2005-06-26T17:32:00.001+08:00

Cutesy packaging add extra flavour to butter- and pandan-flavoured cookies from S&P Bangkok + Chiang Mai.

2005-06-26T17:32:00.000+08:00

Ceylonese tea from Colombo go well with tarts. Oh my.

2005-06-26T17:28:00.000+08:00

Soft, melt-your-heart pineapple tarts from Hong Kong make pre-Reservist(training) Sundays bearable.

The Home-Coming (no relation to Pinter’s work)

2005-06-25T19:38:00.000+08:00

After a spot of traveling, I am always thrilled to be back in Singapore. Thanks to back-to-back flights from Guadalajara, Mexico, to SIN via LAX and NRT, I am beat and feeling jetlagged. But no matter, I was charged forth by the carpe diem spirit (chiefly to accomplish as much as possible before reservist training begins), and raced forth without sleep to get some admin done, after which I joined my guests, Philip and Hugh, from Adelaide for a round of tea and lunch at their hotel.

Later in the evening, I was glad to at be at Germaine’s birthday-do at a Club Street venue. I hope she liked the rather ingenious photo frame I got her from Loft/Siam Discovery Centre in Bangkok—it’s made in Thailand and is just one of the many things imbued with the Thai artisan spirit.

Over mojitos and bubbly, it was good catching up with Amy, Ron, Jose, Kenneth, the boys and in particular the birthday girl and her very handsome and fine-looking Italian boyfriend, Antonio [C’e Arn-to-nio, per favore~] hailing from Napoli and responsible for the best tables in town at Senso.

Yew Kong, in particular, seemed rather fascinating with his talk about a new CREAM/Tristan-designed pad (and, a room with a view, may I add) with a Chinoise Moderne direction (think: Chinese paintings worthy of Beijing’s 798, propaganda posters, panel dividers, ornate tables, figurines-turned-door stoppers…) I’ve already made secret plans to get him something for his house-warming do—that’s if he’s having one.

2005-06-25T04:17:00.000+08:00

800Y buys one cute and round mounds of goodness from Tokyo-Narita's stores. I hope it melted my mum's heart.

2005-06-25T04:13:00.000+08:00

Dark vanilla essence (USD 2.50) from Guadalajara/GDL Aeropuerto's, Mexico, duty-free store. A perfecto touch to any ice-cream.

Make Bangkok My Home

2005-06-17T17:30:00.000+08:00

Chad and I having dinner at Buri Tara, a rather handsome looking restaurant on the Param/Rama III stretch of Chao Phraya.

Just back from Bangkok a bit more than a week ago for a weekend trip that stretched into a 5-day trip. I’ve no idea how that happened; perhaps I might credit it to a great experience at Santika, a Thonglor institution. Chad brought me to that place for a night out on Saturday and it’s a great change from DJ Station, a total stampede on Fridays and Saturdays. In typical Thai style, we had Johnny Walker Blue Label with mixers, bopping along with the resident Thai bands that played a mix of rock, pop, R&B. I was glad to be introduced to Chad’s Thai friends like Goi, whom I met at SLIM/FLIX@RCA 2 months ago, and her brother, Gof, who plays in of the bands. As the night wore on, we chugged more mixes and slid to the sexy R&B sounds with our Thai neighbours. It was a memorable Thai moment: I felt like I could live a life in Bangkok.

Don’t get me wrong. I loathe live bands. Maybe it’s because coming from Singapore, I’ve had experience listening to live bands belt out cheesy pop hits and remixes and covers in English—it’s predictable and it’s at venues like Bar None/Marriott Hotel for instance. Thai bands are a different story: I like them when they sing my favourite Thai pop songs and soft rock tunes; familiar favourites (Body Slam, Nick, Armchair, Nologa gup Dome, Basheer, Breakfast in Bed), I always hear on Virgin Radio Thailand kao-sip-ha-jit-ha, FM95.5. One such band at Buri Tara, another spot-on recommendation by Chad, a restaurant where we had dinner on Friday evening by the Chao Phraya made it an excellent experience. The gaeng som (a mild and sour red soup resembling tom yam in some ways) tasted better as a result.

The increasingly-hip and –gentrified Chao Phraya should see many more establishments popping up on both banks soon. At the moment, Ibrik Resort (with just 3 rooms and 3 cafes) and Patravadi Theatre—both of which I’ve yet to visit; and will attempt to next visit—should spark off some development on the Thonburi bank. In due time, the likes of Shangri-la, Oriental, Peninsula and Marriott Resort would feel that they have made the right choice—positioning themselves at the once-ignored river way—all along.

Doing the local thing is always a highlight on such trips. With Chad leading the way, we headed out from his Sathorn condo to Thanon Linchi where we had a lunch of pad see yew (which is similar to horfun but sweeter and more charred; right up my alley baby!), popiah-esque rolls, fried rice spiked with shrimp paste (a delight!) and sipped strong Thai coffee. Seeing that I was in Bangkok aimless and without a plan, we popped into a supposed Alliance Francaise-run French café across the road and had more coffee while going through Nation and Bangkok Post. The lazy Saturday continued at Central Param/Rama III where we window-shopped and then went for massage for two hours.

Being the enthusiastic and intrepid host that Chad is, he has a specially-designed weekend tour that allows his guests to take in the country (side) as well. This time round, we headed north to Nakhon Pathom province where we visited a charming produce market. I can’t help but marvel at the remarkably gentrified market with enticing packaging of products like organic vegetables, cooked curries, fruits, sweets etc. I wish I could buy the whole market home; but seeing that this is impossible, I aim to return often to take in different sights and zoom in on different eats each time. That’s why I say living in Bangkok is the surest way to lap up the wonders of Bangkok’s environs. Positioned right next to the upstream Chao Phraya, this market also has riverside eateries. We settled at Chad’s eatery serving up some of the best duck noodles and duck wings. I’d take give this the thumbs up over this other pretty decent rendition we had at a pit stop en route to Hua Hin in January. The breeze, schools of fish and water hyacinths on the river were such Kodak moments—I wished I hadn’t sent my cranky Minolta for repair. Relegated to leaving foot prints in Nakhon Pathom, I did the next best thing: packed off half a dozen varieties of desserts and sweets so that I may have pictures taken of them when I return to Singapore (not to mention palate-pleasing moments too). Being the curious me, I have resisted the temptation to ask Chad for the name of the produce market for fear that it’d soon be over run by tourists. I like it the way it is: very local and very popular with prim and proper Bangkokians.

On the way back from Nakhon Pathom province, we passed by Ratchadamonen Klang Road and the Democracy Monument. That long road was filled with simple but old and dignified buildings. According to Chad, that road dates back to King Chulalongkorn’s era. Seeing it for the first time, I was very charmed; and for some inexplicable reason, I found the Democracy Monument quite a sight. Maybe it’s because it recalled the days of Thammasat students taking to the streets in protest and evoked in me a sense of pathos. Having stayed away from backpackers’ central (read: Khao San Road)—and for good reason—I was pleasantly surprised that there were graceful looking two-storey houses sitting on the roads that radiate from Khao San Road. The most beautiful house happens to be the one occupied by Starbucks (which I hate), says Chad. I shall take a rain check and come back next time. Finally, what took my breath away was the drive down the major, broad, boulevard—flanked by ministerial offices—that led all the way to former Parliament House and the much-revered statue of King Chulalongkorn. Stately, grand and beautiful without being pompous. I was seeing so much beauty in this previously-overlooked district of Bangkok that it has made it to the top of the list in my Little Black Book; it merits greater attention and further exploration.

On my last night in Bangkok, I was glad I managed to make a quick trip to Suan Lum Night Bazaar for the first time; and also do dinner and drinks with Claudie, a Bangkok-based English teacher of Canadian-French nationality. She and Chris were in Singapore three weeks ago and we had a ball at Velvet, heartlander-style beers at ABC market and a sun-worshipping session at Siloso Beach. Poor girl—she had to brave the storm to meet me at Suan Lum. As she relayed her Five Year Plans—which involves leaving Bangkok and spending time with her Nigerian boyfriend in Mumbai—I went about mine. The sober-me knew that there was no way I could cart all the fabulous homewares and furniture from Lopburi Zone home. I could work in Bangkok when I graduate next year and fill my homes with a Thai designer chair here and a CD rack there; from Suan Lum’s inspired Lopburi Zone or elsewhere.

Bangkok (and sometimes Thailand) has an uncanny ability to make my heart skip a beat every now and then. This is one of those moments. The dolce vita spirit is so alluring that, even at the risk of sounding Orientalist, I’d like to think of Thailand as my Italy of Asia.

I could live here.

2005-06-17T14:44:00.000+08:00

2005-06-17T02:19:00.000+08:00

Cityscape as viewed from Chad's Sathorn pad; with the Chao Phraya running right beneath the bridge. Bangkok.

2005-06-17T02:17:00.000+08:00

A picture of serenity. Phuttamonton town, Nakhon Pathom province.

2005-06-17T02:15:00.000+08:00

Morsels of tasty soy-based sweets kneaded and the n glazed to resemble carrots, pineapples and the lot; from the produce market in Nakhon Pathom province.

Hua Hin Fever

2005-06-16T17:33:00.000+08:00

There’s never been a better time to live, I thought aloud, as I contemplate the possibilities of vacations in Hua Hin. Hua Hin is one of the greatest things that’s happened to Bangkok. Strategically positioned just 3 hours away, Hua Hin is the playground of hip Bangkokians. Now there are Cha-am and Pranburi as well. With fabulous choices running through my mind last night—AKA Resorts, Aleenta, Casuarina, Veranda, Hua Plee Lazy Beach etc—boy was it hard getting to sleep.

Sometimes I recall conversations with Chad, my cosmo Bangkok host, over mojitos at Let’s Sea, a KuDeTa-esque restaurant-bar in Hua Hin. Next weekend, Chad, as host extraordinaire, brings his guests (Chris, James, Mike) to Hua Hin for a sojourn by the beach. A night’s stay at Marriott (good choice, next to Let’s Sea), lunch at La Mer, dinner at Let’s Sea, and drinks at the deck which is but an arm’s length from the waves. If I make it to Bangkok next week, I’ll claim my reserved spot in Chad’s MPV for the roaring ride down South.

2005-06-16T17:14:00.000+08:00

Grilled Meat Noodles. Thick vermicelli provide the perfect foil to the slabs of barbecued meat, made better only by a generous swipe of honey on the grill. Topped off with gravy, grounded nuts, and served. Perfect accompaniment to avocado shakes. Hoi An.

2005-06-16T17:12:00.000+08:00

Cao Lau, a dish of yellow strips of noodles (as Singaporeans would use in Lor Mee) resting on a bed of greens, garnished with slices of pork and crispy squares. Hoi An.

2005-06-16T17:11:00.000+08:00

Forget ready-to-wear. A pair of bespoke bermudas is the only casual-wear worthy of one's fashionable rear. Hoi An.

2005-06-16T17:09:00.000+08:00

Seamstresses rushing through last minute alterations at the tailor's. My tailor makes a fortune--so rich is he that he's booked his family of four on a 4-day full-board trip to Singapore from Da Nang on Silkair. USD300 per person. Wow. Go figure.

2005-06-16T17:06:00.000+08:00

A sketch of my shirt; Mandarin collared, featuring in-laid strips of green running the length of the sleeves. Hoi An.

2005-06-16T17:04:00.000+08:00

I love bespoke. A pampering experience: i sit down to stacks of Gap Press for Men, going through the latest looks, sit through a consultation session with my tailor which involves sketching, measurements and then fitting. Hoi An.

2005-06-16T17:02:00.000+08:00

AngkorWat-preview at My Son Temples. Hoi An

2005-06-16T16:50:00.000+08:00

Me, myself and I, at Thuan An Beach. Hue.

2005-06-16T16:48:00.000+08:00

A visit to the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) brings to mind Vietnamese strength as exhibited at the major coup against the French at Dien Bien Phu. My heartfelt respect goes to the Vietnamese. Hue.