Ann Spam

Html Crazy-Zanyness

2006-07-13T02:07:00.000-07:00

Perhaps some of you may have noticed that my html has gone crazy. One day it deleted itself right up the the Cbox, then today, when I checked just now, even that was gone. Luckily, I found a backup of my html in my desktop and so I was able to repair some of the damage.

However, I can't quite recall all the address I linked. So if yours is suddenly missing please remind me by leaving a comment below. I have a leaky memory.

The moral of the story: Keep a back up of your html!

Through A Glass, Darkly

2006-07-12T00:52:00.000-07:00

I was thinking about writing about this other book I read but decided to write about Through A Glass, Darkly by Jostein Gaarder instead as I have to return the book soon.

At first glance, I thought that it was a strange title for a book. Through a glass, darkly? Why darkly? Not even past the first page and already he sets your mind running. But after doing a Google search, as I always do to get my images, I found out that there is this verse in the Bible which says something to that effect. I try hard not to make this blog a preaching place, thus free of random Bible verses and praises about God for I know it might be irritating and offensive, at times. So feel free to skip the next few sentences if it might be annoying.

1 Corinthians 13 (King James Version)
12 For now we see through a glass, darkly, but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

Written by the apostle Paul to the Corinthians, it's strangely similar to what the angel Ariel, as I have mentioned in a previous post, said.

We see everything in a glass. Now you've glimpsed the other side through the glass. I can't polish the whole looking-glass. If I could, you might have see even more, but then you would no longer see yourself.

I wonder whether this is where Jostein Gaarder got the idea.

That aside, the story itself was wonderfully addicting. A reasonable amount of fiction coupled with the usual lethal doses of philosophy and thought. I particularly liked the part he dedicated to talking about dreams. Via Ariel who visits a dying Norwegian girl, Cecilia, he also places a certain amount of emphasis on the importance of being childlike, something that is quite evident in the other books I've read. This one though, actually relates it to Adam and Eve. Before they ate the forbidden fruit, they were like children, running around and climbing trees, stuff like that, until they ate the fruit, 'grew old and huffy' and got kicked out. The idea of a very childish Adam and Eve made me smile : )

He also put forth another thought which I found very interesting, the usual chicken and egg one. Did children come first or adults? His stand is of course children, for Adam and Eve were children before becoming adults.

The grown-ups always come limping after. Limping more and more the older they get.

Of course, he doesn't say that all adults are like this. Cecilia's family is used to illustrate this. Her parents are portrayed as more serious and not childlike at all. Her grandmother, on the other hand, is perfectly willing to play and make snow angels in the snow with her grandchildren. Cecilia describes her as the grandest grandma in the world.

What I found slightly disturbing about the book is, how Cecilia, at such a young age, has already begun to wallow in self-pity. Of course, this is not uncommon among adults, teenagers and such, but a young girl? Once or twice, Cecilia goes in a rather huffy tone, I imagine, "I am rather sick, you know." leaving Ariel sighing. It really is something to ponder about. Are we pitying ourselves, too much?

Through A Glass Darkly, by the way, is also the title of an Isaac Asimov short story, an album, and a movie.

An Answer

2006-07-10T08:43:00.000-07:00

Lately I've been asking myself many questions. The usual what if what if why why how how. Questions that pop up when I space out. Like, since we are influenced by other people, are our choices in essence, a mixture of those people's opinion? If that is true then our thinking should be more or less similar, yet differences refuse to die down. I suppose this is part of being unique. A person never truly dies then, because a part of them is somehow left here, on the hearts of people they've touched and influenced. But that isn't true, then what?

As you can see, I drive myself crazy.

By an amazing stroke of luck, I found an answer. Not a perfect one, but a profound one. One that made me think more. It was in Through A Glass, Darkly by Jostein Gaarder (again!). It's about this dying girl who is visited by an angel, Ariel. He teaches her about philosophy, another Jostein Gaarder trademark, and I suppose, is there to ease her passing. Understandably, the girl is quite bitter. She wonders why there are so many mysteries in life and this is what Ariel said:

We see everything in a glass. Now you've glimpsed the other side through the glass. I can't polish the whole looking-glass. If I could, you might have see even more, but then you would no longer see yourself.

An interesting analogy, a mirror. Supposing there is a one-way mirror between Heaven and Earth, that would mean God can see us but we can't see through that mirror. Ariel is supposedly helping her to understand things better through philosophy, but at the same time, as an angel, he can't reveal too much for she would be in danger of losing herself. And that is why we must look through a glass, darkly, so we can still see ourselves.

I think I am becoming quite a fan of Jostein Gaarder. Makes you think, huh.

Futsal.

2006-07-08T06:53:00.000-07:00

The mere word seems to roll off my tongue, so foreign, so beautiful.

Today I played futsal for the first time. The pitch was smaller, the goal was smaller, but it was still fun. I think it would have been a very long time before I played futsal had it not been for this inter-school-club thing competition.

We won some games and ended up second. I met a Portuguese player (metaphorically, not literally) and a referee who was as effective as a stick. Some people might not be happy to get second, because they always want to be best. I have a few theories on why this happens. Maybe they like soaking in glory, attention and whatever. Or maybe they think too highly of themselves to settle for a lowly second. Everyone can be like that, don't you think? Even I, you, me, everyone. But for me, second was amazing. It was a sort of victory. The taste of victory was, how should I put it, strange. It's strange to suddenly not be the underdog after knowing about nothing but being an underdog. Like the MKIS competition, which I think is the only proper football-related competition I've joined prior to this.

We got thrashed like nobody's business. But when I think about it, the thoughts and the memories, the experience most of all, it was all worth it. Sure, I was annoyed at times but I am willing to be annoyed if that's how it is. Even when I have to meet people who play like Cristiano Ronaldo and Co. Or sticks pretending to be referees, because you can't just turn a blind eye and live in dreams all the time.

The experience, gained from anything, everything, meeting a stranger, seeing something you don't see every other day either because you're blind to it or it doesn't happen often, doing something... That is priceless.

Winning is just an added bonus.

The Solitaire Mystery

2006-07-01T23:56:00.000-07:00

Hello I'm back. I have enough faith that the persons involved in the previous post will respect my privacy.

In the meantime, let me recommend one of the best books I've ever read: The Solitaire Mystery by Jostein Gaarder. It was a birthday present from my friend, Dorito Shan. Jostein Gaarder is more widely known as the author of Sophie's World and is Norwegian. He introduces philosophy to people of all ages, mainly young people, via his philosophy-in-a-fictional-story books. My particular copy of the book (see right) is translated by Sarah Jane Hails. Pretty good; because I didn't realise it had been translated until I looked through the book more carefully.

If you haven't read Sophie's World yet, I would advise you to read The Solitaire Mystery first before throwing yourself into Sophie's World. The reason is that Sophie's World is literal chunks of the history of philosophy crammed in between bits of a fictional story. The story is interesting, but it required very heavy reading. The Solitaire Mystery is in my opinion better written for people like me who are not so keen on reading about history and different philosophers lengthy-lecture style. It rouses your interest in philosophy by making statements like, "God is laughing in heaven because no one believes in Him", which is not intended to be religious propoganda but thought-provoking. Once your curiosity is lured out of its lonely cave, it's easier to swallow down the huge history-helpings of Sophie's World. In fact, I'm re-reading it now.

Now, about the story. It's actually a fictitious story within a fictitious story. A father and son (Hans Thomas) are on a journey to Athens to seek Hans Thomas's mother who has gone to find herself but got lost in a fashion fairytale. She ended up a model and hasn't been back in 8 years. Along the way, they have 'cigarette stops' which are philosophical discussions. Hans Thomas meets a strange baker who gives him a book baked into a sticky-bun. It's so tiny he has to use a magnifying glass a strange dwarf with cold hands gave him. In the book, there is another story which is stranger than strange, about cards jumping out of creative space to created space, Jokers and the secret of the Rainbow Fizz Island. It may seem silly, but everything is written is so perfectly that you won't get bored halfway. Philosophy is introduced slowly, both to readers and to Hans Thomas, but not any less potent than the history of philosophy in Sophie's World.

If you like philosophy and strange stories that make you think to no end, then I guarantee that this book will be a mind-blowing experience. Not reading it would be a major loss! But if you dislike Socrates and anything related to philosophy, stay away.

A couple of my favourite lines from the book:

"Mama ran away from Dad and me when I was four years old. That's probably why I still call her Mama. Gradually Dad and I got to know each other better, and one day it just didn't seem right to call him Daddy anymore."

"I had never felt so powerless. Of course I could have stopped them. I could have undoubtedly wrung their necks as well. But none of it would have made me any the wiser."

Thank you, Dorito Shan!

Hello

2006-06-25T01:56:00.000-07:00

I know you care about me, but despite your obviously good intentions I hope you'll respect my wish to keep this blog as a part of me that's private.

If you're wondering whether I'm referring to you then you're probably right.

For I don't want to lose my collection of thoughts and memories because of this. Neither do I want Ann Spam to cease to exist, as it were, or the muse to be choked.

So if your intentions are truly good and sincere, here's to hoping that this will be the last post you'll ever read on my blog, and the last time you ever visit.

Thank you.

Yours truly,

Ann Spam, for the time being.

What A Carve Up!

2006-06-22T08:26:00.000-07:00

I started What A Carve Up! by Jonathan Coe right after Everything Is Illuminated. The beginning was so promising I basically sped through the book despite being supposed to be attempting to study. It was as good as Jonathan Safran Foer (coincidentally, his namesake) although in a different sense. Jonathan Safran Foer's novel was more of a philosophical, satire, fantasy, Holocaust, humour, tinged with a bit of mystery rolled into one. Jonathan Coe's novel is more of mystery, a satire as well of British politics during the 1950s-1990s and people.

The fresh thing about What A Carve Up! is that it's told from an author, namely Michael Owen's point of view. I'm not sure whether this name has any connection to the footballer because it was published in 1994. It could be; or it could be pure coincidence. Anyway, Michael Owen in the book, is also writing a book, about the Winshaw family. In between chapters from Michael Owen's book, we get a peek into Michael Owen's own life.

The Winshaws are a rich British family, cruel, money-minded, greedy, the lot. Not all of them though, but they're definitely quite mad. The first chapter was a chapter from the Winshaw book by Michael Owen, giving a brief introduction of the turmoil in the family. Altogether, there are 5 Winshaw siblings: Lawrence, Tabitha, Olivia, Godfrey and Mortimer. They have children: Dorothy, Mark, Thomas, Henry, Roderick and Hilary. All are supposed to have inherited the 'cruel' gene apart from Tabitha, Godfrey and Mortimer.

The scene takes place at Winshaw Towers. A dark night. Tabitha, unusually attached to her brother Godfrey, receives news that he has died after being shot down by Nazis (Godfrey was in the army). She goes into frenzy, accusing Lawrence of betraying his country and sending his own brother to his own death. She attempts to murder him, accuses him of sending instructions to the Nazis when in fact it was a note for the butler telling him to bring up a light snack. As a result, she was shut up in the loony bin.

A regular Whodunnit/Cluedo game. Is Tabitha really crazy, or did Lawrence kill Godfrey? A good mystery is always excellent bait for the reader to carry on.

Later, the rest of the Winshaw family are introduced nicely and in detail, via chapters of Michael's book. He was actually commissioned by Tabitha to write a history of her horrible family, for a huge sum of money. But why? It leaves many question marks, but it is a rather nice way to intertwine Michael's life with the Winshaws. In fact, like in many books, everything is related somehow or another.

Michael, on the other hand, is a rather good writer who has potential but fails terribly at sex scenes. A dreamy person whose childhood has been a blur, he often seems depressed and indifferent to the world until he was woken up from his mental slumber by a mysteriously beautiful woman. His dreams are sometimes prophetic in nature, although this only plays a part later in the story. His mind is like a loop; constantly going over blurred parts of his past, unable to really live in the present. Yuri Gagarin is mentioned many times here, being Michael's childhood hero.

Again, I can't say much without revealing crucial parts of the plot, but everything is illuminated in a few climatic chapters. Reading it through, you may have some inkling of what happens next, but for me, the ending completely threw me off.

One of my favourite lines from the book:

"...because there comes a point where greed and madness can no longer be told apart. This dividing line is very thin, just like a belt of film surrounding the earth's sphere. It's a delicate blue, and this transition from blue to black is very gradual and lovely."

God Bless You All

2006-06-21T06:50:00.000-07:00

I was at a restaurant, the name of which I can't recall, something to do with a chili I think. A silent observer once again amidst the babble of the more chronologically advanced.

A man strode up, blue file in hand, red tag around neck, hair neatly combed to resemble that of most CEOs, a smooth long-sleeved blue shirt... His posture was one of a man with confidence. Someone you'd normally see in adverts, someone who'd convince you to smoke a certain brand of cigarettes or drink a certain sort of beer. He was the sort of person you'd expect to deliver a long, convincing speech that would provide no answers.

But instead.

"... charity..."

Flipping his file open helplessly, waving the seemingly elegant pen, but instead was met quickly by a gesture he knew all too well. Some time back he would have persisted, I should think, but now he knew not to. You could see from his downcast eyes, the way they scanned the floor and not the people; his posture slightly faltering when he approached those stuffing themselves to the brim; his wavering voice, that he had been through this a million times and more.

He was an empty shell of confidence, nothing more.

As quickly as he had come, he shut the file and took a quick bow. The words came out stronger, and more forceful than before.

"God bless you all."

And then he was gone, flitting from table to table, but stopping at few.

2006-06-19T23:54:00.000-07:00

I am.
I am.

I am
Drifting in a stagnant pool of hopelessness,
Peering into its murky depths,
Brushing cobwebs of confusion.
This is me;
I am home.

I will...
I will...

I will.

My Slide

2006-06-17T03:39:00.000-07:00

In my successful attempt to procrastinate, I have created

A Slide.

Having resisted the urge to create one after being aware of its availability (examsexamsblahyearghurrgghhh), I couldn't stand it any longer because it was just what I had been looking for. Whee! Currently though, I have only uploaded 5 of my photographs.

Scroll way down to check it out; it's right below my Links.

No, they didn't pay me to say this or make it compulsory but I think this service is really good. So yeah, people like SmartKa who've been looking for something like this as well, go get it.

Meet Black. Cat Black.

2006-06-16T07:58:00.000-07:00

Every morning, at around 6:10 am I pull open the curtains, staring into the darkness, the soon-to-be-lit sort of darkness. And about 10 seconds later, a pair of glowing eyes meets my gaze. Meet Black. Cat Black.

There has been a black cat, as black as the darkest night, visiting my house frequently. Actually, everyday. Always there when I get up, and leaves when I leave. It comes back when we come back, stretching lazily on the front porch. I have decided to dub it Cat Black. For one, I don't know whether it is male or female. And another thing, I like calling a dog Dog and a fish Fish and a cat Cat. If I had to be all imaginative it would be a strange name like Saatsbibliothek which would be too hard to pronounce. So Cat Black it is.

Cat used to be severely disobedient but it is a clever cat. It enjoys breaking into my house at any time of the day. Then it heads upstairs and sits expectantly on the sofa, facing the television and PS2 console.

"Mew." says Cat.
"Please get out, Cat." says I.

And it promptly gets off and struts outside again.

Once it managed to lock itself inside my storeroom. Honestly, I have no idea how Cat managed to do that. But it regretted it soon enough when I heard pitiful mewing coming from the storeroom. Again, it strutted out, tail in air. Cat never walks properly. It struts.

"Cat, please don't come in anymore." said I.
"Mew." said Cat.

And it hasn't come in since, except the time I was looking exceptionally sleepy and it jumped in just to scare me to get my adrenaline flowing. At least that's what I think.

Just now I sat outside on the porch with Cat there. It was stretching lazily again. The raindrops were falling softly, slowly. I can sense that the world is changing. The weather is changing. I wonder whether Cat knows.

"Cat, please sit." said I.

It struts. I repeat this 6 times and it finally makes itself comfortable right next to me. Then it started cleaning itself. Truth be told, I have never observed a cat cleaning itself seriously before. Oh yes, I've read about it. And now I understand why some people say that cats are among the cleanest animals on earth. Cat groomed itself slowly and surely, making sure everything is nice and smooth. I swear it even tried to do a center parting. It cleaned everything, even its, ahem, posterior.

Cat caught my gaze and said, "Mew." Then, we engaged in telepathic conversation.

As Primate put it, "Sounds like a person there."

Everything Is Illuminated

2006-06-11T04:10:00.000-07:00

Everything Is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer is undoubtedly the strangest book I have ever read. Upon Googling it before writing this entry, I found out there has been a movie made based on this strange novel, starring Elijah Wood of all people!

I use the word 'strange' because it is so utterly creative, so thought-provoking, so serious yet funny, and a mixture of fiction and non-fiction. In some ways, even a satire, taking sharp stabs at human behaviour, human thinking. (Matt, I think you will love this book) It starts out with one of the main characters in the story, Alex, a Ukrainian, who is hired by a Jew from America, Jonathan Safran Foer, to try and help him find the woman who saved his grandfather from the Nazis. This part about Jonathan Foer trying to find the woman is true. He intended to write a non-fictional account at first, according to his website but later turned his journey into a 'miraculous work of fiction'.

Alex the Ukrainian jumbles up the English language maybe to some, in a painful way, but to me, very amusingly. For instance, instead of writing "That is a very hard question.", he writes, "That is a very rigid question." An innocent mistake, since rigid and hard can mean the same things. The story is sometimes told from Alex's point of view, and sometimes from Jonathan's. It is not hard to tell which is which.

Readers are then introduced to the story of how (the imaginary) Trachimbrod came to be. It was very confusing at first. I had to read the beginning a second time because I couldn't understand some of the Jewish terms. Another reason is because the writer is strangely specific while naming the characters. For instance, Bitzl Bitzl R when Bitzl would have sufficed. He also tends to call the different Rabbis rather strange names such as the Well-Regarded Rabbi. But after getting over the initial confusion, I could not stop.

Alex's Grandfather, also named Alex, who says he is blind but is not blind (another cause of confusion) is the driver during the entire journey, with Sammy Davis, Junior, Junior the under-sexed Seeing-Eye Bitch there to help him when all she does is fart and throw herself against the car window. The Dog is there more to provide humour than anything else in my opinion. In between writing about the journey, the author also writes about the olden day Trachimbrod, which at first does not seem relevant at all. The stories are funny at times, but also thought provoking. For instance,

She did all of those things and so many more, things I would never tell anyone, and she never even loved me. Now that's love.

and

Your hair, he said.
I think it's very pretty.
Can it be pretty if no one thinks it's pretty?
I think it's pretty.
If you're the only one?
That's pretty pretty.
And what about the boys? Don't you want them to think you're pretty?
I wouldn't want a boy to think I was pretty unless he was the kind of boy who thought I was pretty.

Their adventure is filled with many humourous events, but eventually leads to them seeking Trachimbrod, the village the woman he is looking for (Augustine) supposedly lived. They go on what seems like a wild-goose chase, and finally, they find Lista, an old woman who claims that she is Trachimbrod. How muddled up.

But finally, after a long conversation with the old woman, everything seems to fit in, although I had to flip back a couple of times. There are little things he wrote in that don't seem to matter until you read what goes on later. The Holocaust. Trachimbrod. Both Alexes. Jonathan Safran Foer. Everything, is intertwined. And everything is illuminated.

Truly, I recommend this book. I cannot reveal enough in this post without ruining it for you, so get out there and borrow or buy it!

16 Years Ago

2006-06-10T08:55:00.000-07:00

Approximately 16 years ago, I was subconsciously very happy. Perhaps not consciously, but definitely subconsciously. Why? Life is full of question marks, isn't it? Before I start writing about something else, let me wish Bang Bang aka Bang Bangers aka Yi Peng aka PAFOTWINF (Professional Atheletic Footballer of the World in Near Future)...

Happy You-Came-Into-The-World-Day!

... because approximately 16 years ago, I'm sure you can guess, Bang Bang came to be.

I'm sure she's smiling her face away right now. That's okay Bang Bang, it's good to smile.

Consider my exam essay dedicated to you, the PAFOTWINF (pronounced Pah-Fot-Win-eff).

On Air

2006-06-08T02:16:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I wonder to myself, why don't I listen to other radio channels? Why not be adventurous for a change? It might be fun! Today, I remembered why.

The Primate was giving a radio interview on this weird radio station which I didn't even know existed, along with the Alpha Male and her chaperone. The radio station played the most horrible music and had the worst deejay ever. But nevermind, the interview was all I wanted to hear.

I was expecting some very serious interviewing but like Mr C once said in Literature class, often you can see how the writer is going to write after reading the first chapter. Likewise, it was clear how that unqualified deejay (obviously lacking interviewing skills) was going to conduct the interview based on the first question he asked, which is: Alpha Male, do you have a girlfriend? American women are hot don't you think? You must attract a lot of girls. Don't you? Don't you?! Do you want an American girlfriend? I went to America once and the women there were so sexy! On and on and on.

You would think it was the Let's Talk About Myself, the Deejay Show instead of a proper interview.

To make things worse, he put about 1 or 2 songs (depending on your bad luck) in between every question. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My ear drums whined in agony. My brain couldn't process anything anymore. For the first time in my life, I almost died suffocating. And I found out there's actually a band named, okay, hold on to your seats,

The Sad Angry Babies

What's more, those babies have a website. Google it yourself, no way I'm linking them.

And then there were more crappy bands, one of them, from what I could make out, called themselves The Submarine and their song was, The Disturbed Spirit. Loosely translated.

As if that is not enough, the deejay had to keep repeating his sentences over and over again. After yakking on for about what seemed like forever, and finally letting the chaperone, Primate and Alpha Male speak for only about 5 seconds, he puts on more mental-illness-inducing songs. I can't tell which is worse, the deejay, his silly comments or the music.

You would think the deejay would ask the Primate something like, who inspired you to play football? Who is your favourite player? What is your opinion on the future of girls' football? Do you aspire to be a national player? But no. He asked:
Do you have a boyfriend? Aren't American guys cute? Would you rather go for football or Chinese Orchestra? Why don't you have a boyfriend? What crazy things are you going to do in Germany?

Relevance points: negative. He doesn't even get a zero.

The worst part is, the whole 'interview' lasted 1 hour. But minus all the bad music time, 5 minutes. It ended off with the aforementioned deejay asking them to say hi to their respective friends. When he got to the chaperone, a person from the US Embassy, I could tell she was quite flabbergasted. Finally, she said meekly, "Errrr, hi, US Embassy..."

Can't you just imagine the US Embassy going, "Hello, chaperone!"

Needless to say, I was painfully reminded of the reason why I don't like to listen to strange radio stations. Especially ones that don't screen their deejays properly. I'd rather find my own music, thank you very much!

Deja-vu!

2006-06-07T21:53:00.000-07:00

I read this in the papers some time ago but didn't get down to blogging about it until now.

PEOPLE in this resort town already knew 14-year-old Jazmin Grace Grimaldi was an honours student, science fair winner and student of the month.

Add this to her list of credentials: Prince Albert II of Monaco has acknowledged through his lawyer that Jazmin is his daughter.

'At first, he decided to keep his paternity secret until Jazmin Grace reached adulthood,' said Mr Thierry Lacoste, the prince's lawyer, in an interview with Le Figaro.

'The prince officially acknowledges paternity, which was legally established several weeks ago.'

Residents have responded protectively to the hordes of reporters and photographers who have flocked to the girl's town near Los Angeles.

'Leave that poor girl alone!' a woman in a car shouted at reporters and photographers gathered outside St Margaret's Episcopal School.

The police warned they would be arrested if they set foot on school grounds.

At the end of the school day, a ponytailed blond girl in a school uniform was escorted to an armoured Lincoln Navigator.

She didn't respond to reporters and left in the SUV with two bodyguards, escorted by two sheriff's deputies on motorcycles.

A security guard prohibited a reporter requesting to visit the girl's mother, Tamara Rotolo, 44.

Confirmation that the 48-year-old bachelor prince was Jazmin's father came less than a year after Albert acknowledged in July that he fathered a 3-year-old boy out of wedlock with a former flight attendant.

French media reports said he had a fling with Jazmin's mother when she vacationed on the Cote d'Azur in the south of France in 1991.

Jazmin's birth certificate lists her father as Albert Alexandre Louis Pierre Grimaldi of Monaco.

The girl's grandfather, auto worker Sam Rotolo, 75, said that Jazmin was raised in the family's middle-class home and that the prince has provided financial support over the years.

The child's grandmother was US actress Grace Kelly, who became Monaco's beloved Princess Grace. However, a child of Prince Albert's born out of wedlock cannot accede to power.

Under a 2002 succession law, Moncao's throne will pass to Princess Caroline if Prince Albert dies without having a child within a Catholic marriage.

But Jazmin may lay claim to her father's wealth. After he acknowledged his son, Alexandre, last year, the prince's lawyer made clear that the boy has the right to inherit his father's wealth.

Prince Albert's fortune was estimated recently at US$1 billion ($1.57b) by Forbes magazine, which placed him sixth in its list of the world's richest people. - AP.

[Source] [Another Article]

Sounds not unlike The Princess Diaries doesn't it? I suppose that is what comes to everyone's mind when they read that bit of news. What a coincidence; I wonder whether Meg Cabot knew about this.

The Primate Goes To America

2006-06-06T07:41:00.000-07:00

The Jabbering Primate, 17, an ardent fan of Liverpool, will be going off to America (and Germany, actually) for the 14-day Global Neighbour World Cup Youth Delegation Programme, where she will spend some time visiting American and then fly off to Germany to watch the World Cup! (Article here)

Sweet, huh?

Apparently, the media's article on this wasn't entirely accurate. They didn't even spell the Primate's name right, or print out the more important statements she made. So, I had the chance to meet up with the Primate via modern communication, and decided to post about what she really has to say:

I just wanna say, girls should be able to play football without being laughed at by male chauvinists and football in school should be about having fun like playing with Coach Mak while still learning something. Girls should not claim to be interested in football when all they do is stare at cute guys like Gerrard. I hope Malaysia will be able to produce people like Mia Hamm who can kick ass and shut up the sexist pigs. I'd also like to thank my ball friends, speech and drama, and Coach Mak Fatt Soon for preparing me for this. - Primate

I concur with everything she has said except that she could have given better examples instead of Gerrard.

I wanted to post a picture of her with the Alpha Male (another guy who was also chosen) but the website didn't allow me to borrow it from them. Hopefully she will let us have a peek at some pictures when she comes back! (Article With Picture Here)

Ann Spam congratulates the Primate and wishes her a pleasant journey!

Adrian Mole

2006-06-04T23:11:00.000-07:00

I first picked up the first in the Adrian Mole diaries, which have now become a sort of series, maybe a couple of years or so back. At that time, it was featured in the newspaper sometime after I bought it under childrens' books for reasons I know not because it doesn't seem to be very suitable for children, especially the later books.

It's not the sort of book that's so amazing it'd win a Nobel prize or something, but it is indeed amusing to read about this Adrian Mole guy. I suppose it's a satire of sorts, a weird sort of comedy especially when he gets all hypocritical and pompous.

Anyway, I recommend Adrian Mole and the Weapons of Mass Destruction, the last in the series, but only if you like weird comedy and are in need of mindless reading. If you want to start off properly, get this:

The Last Stand?

2006-06-03T03:05:00.000-07:00

I've just watched X-Men: The Last Stand, and darn, it was so good. Definitely one of the finer movies I've watched so far this year. Major spoilers below and very long post ahead!

The story starts out with Jean Grey, who is the core of the entire movie with her funky dual personality thing. Anyway, we see the not-so-nice part of her with the whole eye-rolling-look-at-how-powerful-I-am-ness, contrasting heavily with her meek and nice prequel self. Her powers were protrayed as kind of weak and unstable in prequels, not like the awesome metal-sweeping Magnetty powers Magneto has, but when Mr Magneto himself says, "Ah now I see why she is special" you kind of rethink that. A prolepsis of what she would later become in the movie! It was strange to see Mr Magneto and the Professor working together, ironic even. The Blue Guy is also back. I can't remember his name but he's the ape-like furry guy. Apparently he is now a diplomat.

Suddenly, whoosh, the scene switches to Warren "Archangel" Worthington, a little blond boy trying to saw off his beautiful wings. They did a good job working up the suspense, positioning him in front of the mirror so that you just can't see the mirror image of his wings until he turns around to show his father the two bloody stumps. Can't say I didn't cringe. What made me think was when his father said, "Oh no, not you too!" (or something to that effect). I wonder who else had wings. His mother? Oh well...

Before you know it, the scene switches to Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters. Seems like a very beautiful school to be honest. Here the wet blanket of the show, our supposedly manly Scott Cyclops is still not over Jean Grey. For the 5 minutes he appeared in the show he was either sobbing like mad or being seduced by Jean the Phoenix. No bad-mutant-butt-kicking action at all. Then suddenly, he's out of the picture. Where is the manliness I ask you? Dead. Bye bye. No more. So how does that entitle him to a nice big place in the movie poster? I concur with the Primate. I wonder what they buried though, since they didn't mention finding his body (should have been torn to shards by the lovely Phoenix) and the wonderful sunglasses broke as well.

I think his sole purpose in the movie is to make Magneto, the Professor and especially Wolverine look more manly and more full of testosterone.

Anyhow, the Professor mentions that he would like Storm to take his place as headmaster when he, ahem, is no longer able to. Yet another prolepsis of his impending doom!

Now, the twist. The mean humans (namely us, or more specifically, Archangel's dad and company) have developed a drug to "cure" mutants of their powers by using a little boy (Jimmy aka Leech) whose power is to turn any mutant in his presence into normal people. I pity him. I honestly do. He is shaved bald for reasons I know not, and left alone to play games in his totally white bedroom. He is also forced to wear this hospital-like gown and his puppy-dog eyes of longing is often shown in the movie. Such a good-natured looking fellow though. Definitely more manly than the late Cyclops.

Then we see the Archangel being made to receive the drug in order to cure him. His dad is overwhelmed with glee at the thought of a normal son but you kinda know that the Archangel won't be "cured" since he has wings in the poster. And he didn't. He broke free of the bindings at the last minute, showing super strength that I didn't know came with the wings, to show the full glory of his widespread wings much to the amazement of everyone. I tell you, the whole movie stopped there for a few seconds just to let everyone bask in the beauty of his wings. They even put on this noise, that went something like, whooooop, you know, when the wings open. They even glowed. (Heavenly music here) Then he jumped out of the building and flew off much to the disappointment of the gleeful father (this is a part where the poor Jimmy boy showed his puppy-dog eyes). His flying off and wings symbolic of freedom? Maybe I've been having too many Literature classes.

Big Twist 2: Jean Grey is alive! Well, that's obvious. But she's back with a dual personality. I will try to explain this the best I can. When discovered, the Professor realised she's a Level 5 mutant (meaning super-super-super powerful). But this power lies in her subconscious mind which she cannot control so he put psychic barriers to restrain this subconsciousness because it's wild, seductive, potentially evil etc. When trapped under Alkali Lake, she subconsciously put a kinetic field around her thus surviving, unleashing her bad side, lured Scott to the lake and killed him. Then she was brought back to Xavier's Institute and we learn of all the things I have mentioned above. Hairy Wolverine feels that the Professor is not being very nice (to put it mildly) by restricting her powers but quickly understands why when Jean Grey the Phoenix wakes up, tries to seduce him, fails, then beats him up with telekinetic powers and leaves in a very skimpy outfit.

I suppose bad things have to be done now and then for the greater good. No wonder the old Jean Grey was always so overly meek and quiet.

Meanwhile, Big Twist 3: Magneto goes to rescue Mystique. In the process introduced to more mutants, more important ones include the Juggernaut and some replicating guy. But the twist here is, Mystique takes a shot (full of Worthington Mutant Cure) and turns into human again, and yes, she is naked. Positioned on the floor very nicely to cover all the potentially offending parts, she is abandoned by Magnet Man, showing that he is, indeed merciless and knows no loyalty. I thought she'd turn up in the end but she didn't. No more. Bye bye Mystique. Whoops, I mean, Raven. Yes, that is her human name.

Here comes Big Twist 4:The Professor and Mr Magnet Man go after Jean Grey knowing that the Phoenix is now the most powerful mutant on Earth. I must admit, with her red hair and evil look, Jean Grey looks witchy and (insert word here). A (insert that same word here) witchy. Dialogue follows with Magnet Man playing the Devil and Professor playing the Angel. In the end Phoenix destroys the Professor by ripping him to shards with her newly unleashed powers. He died a good death though, smiling a little and barely saying, "Don't let it overpower you, Jean!". Ultimate cue for tears to roll down. Meanwhile Storm and Hairy Wolf are involved in a fight with other mutants. Magneto watches with sadistic pleasure and regret. The Phoenix follows Magneto, who vainly thinks that she supports him. I can't believe how he can assume that Jean Grey, whom he has already admitted is far powerful than himself, will listen to his commands or support him in everything. A scene where she threatens to inject him with the Worthington Cure is yet another prolepsis for things to come.

Mutant Facedown at Alcatraz: Magneto versus Hairy Wolf and friends. Jean Grey hovers at one side not doing anything until the crucial moment. By the way, the hot fire-blasting Pyro is reduced to one of Magneto's peons. He doesn't even look as good anymore. The humans (namely us again) have "learnt something", using plastic guns loaded with Mutant Potion. Loads are hit, loads aren't. Hairy Wolf and friends arrive. Kitty (the girl who can go through solid objects) races the Juggernaut to the poor Jimmy "Leech" boy, winning using her brains, not brawn. Pyro has a show-down with Iceman, losing embarassingly after Iceman turns into, well, Iceman and heabutts him with his icy head.

More fights. Fight fight fight. Nice graphics and all, though!

Then, Wolverine decides to inject Magnet Guy with Mutant Potion. He distracts Magneto while Blue Guy comes from behind and hits him with not one, not two, not three, but four tiny syringes of potion. Gasp! Ack! Euurrgh!

Magnet Man is now only Man Man.

Last Big Twist: Wolfie versus Birdie the Phoenix. I actually found it rather heart-warming when Birdie decided to join in the fight. She totally killed off all the bad guys with her ripping-them-to-bits thing but spared the good guys. Proves she still has a bit of the old Jean Grey in her. She tried the same tactic on Wolfie, but it obviously didn't work because:

(a) She did it half-heartedly. I mean, she could've hurled him around aimlessly, broken his mind while ripping him apart but instead let him get closer and closer to her.
(b) In case you forgot, Wolfie is one tough Wolfie-cookie. He is invincible! Supposedly anyway. I'm not sure about mentally.

In the end, Wolfie reaches Phoenix and I went, "Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her!" But he didn't. He darn well stabbed her good in the gut after one last glimpse of the old Jean Grey popped out and whispered, "Saveee meeeee....". At that moment, she lifted up a whole load of water above the sea which dropped down the second she died, letting it fall like tears. Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful! Graphics amazing again. This time, I didn't mind Wolverine crying his adamantium out.

Everything goes back to normal (as normal as mutants can be anyway). Another interesting bit is that Rogue took the Mutant Cure and became normal. It's sad, because she suffered so much, seeing others being able to touch, embrace, all the things she couldn't do. Perhaps people might think she was stupid, but I think, maybe in her position, I would too. Not like her powers were very cool or anything. On the other hand, she could have asked the poor Jimmy Leech to stand near her whenever she wanted to kiss Bobby, so that her powers would momentarily vanish but I guess she was too distressed to think of it (not sure whether she even knew of his existance) so she took the other way out instead. Darn.

And it all ended with Man Man trying his powers on a chess piece (he has a thing with chess), managing to make it quiver a little. Those movie-makers have a thing for leaving the door to sequels open.

The end.

I applaud you if you read all of that up there. Very good. I might not have done it myself. But be prepared to sigh, for there is more to come.

Lessons Learnt (assuming we live in a world chock-full of mutants)

1. America is a potentially dangerous place to live in
Have you noticed that a big portion of mutant-fights occur in America? What about Asia? Australia? Europe? Ho hum...

2. Powerful old men don't age so much
For example, Magneto? The Professor? The Archangel's dad? Perhaps they should reveal their secrets to those Hollywood celebrities...

3. Don't do things by the halves; go all the way
As demonstrated by the Blue Guy. One shot is not enough! Make it FOUR or MORE. More is best. Less is not so good. Even with FOUR doses Magneto still has a sliver of power left. Imagine what would happen if it was only ONE dose!

Although, this does make me think, was Mystique so weak she only required one shot? I always thought of her as a rather powerful mutant. Maybe they should have made it three.

4. If you hear voices in your head you're in for some trouble
If you hear voices, you're probably crazy. Otherwise, it's your assumed-dead girlfriend/boyfriend calling you, wanting to seduce you one last time before killing you. Wolfie is a special case. He's invincible, remember?

5. It takes two episodes for humans in X-Men movies to learn something
Plastic guns. Need I say more? They should've done that earlier! Yeah, they didn't have the Cure then but still? Why provide toys for Magnet Man to play with?

6. Hairy men with adamantium for body parts learn very quickly
As proved by Wolverine who was instrumental in sticking not one, not two, not three, but FOUR syringes in Magneto! Yes, I'm obsessed about those four shots. Frankly, I wasn't sure whether they were able to pull it off, but they did. Bravo, this proves he has brains.

7. Weather-controlling mutants don't show their injuries
Despite being beaten up heavily by that pierced-lip Callisto woman, Storm has not shown any sign of injury whatsoever. Weather-related? Hmmm...

That's it, lucky number seven. If I have applauded you for reading through my messy review, then I applaud you, I give you a standing ovation even, for getting here. So,

What's your stand?

P/S: Sorry if I have offended or irritated anyone. This post has been written purely for entertainment purposes. Thank you and sorry again.

PP/S: Apparently, according to Warren I missed the spoiler after the credits. The Professor has supposedly assumed the consciousness of another man, which means he is alive. If that's true, it's very nice how they weaved that part in because there was a lesson on ethics earlier given by the Professor discussing whether one could assume the consciousness of another. Check his blog for further details if you wish to.

A Dream

2006-06-02T08:27:00.000-07:00

Dreams are made of wonderful stuff. Indescribable, a world without dreams, good or bad. A place to wander in solitude, to explore places your heart only thinks of, to face your personal demons, to escape from reality.

But have you ever had a really, really good dream, only to wake up and realise, "That's never going to happen, now is it?" and to try as hard as you can to go back to sleep, frantically trying to latch onto the last wisps of that great dream you just had, dream as it may be and nothing more?

Sometimes it works; sometimes it doesn't.

In the end, however, it's all the same. You're left with nothing but a memory of that dream, sometimes even nothing but a happy yet disappointed feeling, a sort of hollowness that you feel when you almost had something in your grasp but to see it fade away like an old memory as you prepare to once again, say hello to reality.

Just A Thought: Graffiti

2006-05-29T20:41:00.000-07:00

I can't stand useless graffiti. For example, lousy graffiti that tells us who loves who and who will stay together forever with who, usually found on construction sites. I'd like to tell them, stop kidding yourselves. There're also obscene, pitiful people who find it necessary to show the local toilet-using community how deranged they are.

But after digging through my folders, finding a certain picture, going to Wikipedia and searching up "graffiti", I think I will refer to the aforementioned "graffiti" as uninspired scribblings of the troubled souls. Beautiful graffiti is like this, in my opinion:

I took this picture in Melaka (or Malacca) a couple of months ago, only finding it once again while digging through my folders. To be honest, I wouldn't mind having such graffiti on my bedroom walls.

Interesting titbit from Wikipedia:

The first known example of "modern style" graffiti survives in the ancient Greek city of Ephesus (in modern-day Turkey) and appears to advertise prostitution, according to the tour guides of the city. It stands near the long mosaic and stone walkway and consists of a handprint, a vaguely heart-like shape, a footprint and a number. This purportedly indicates how many steps one would have to take to find a lover, with the handprint indicating payment.

Also according to Wikipedia, love was a subject of scorn:

Quisquis amat. veniat. Veneri volo frangere costas
fustibus et lumbos debilitare deae.
Si potest illa mihi tenerum pertundere pectus
quit ego non possim caput illae frangere fuste?

Whoever loves, go to hell. I want to break Venus's ribs
with a club and deform her hips.
If she can break my tender heart
why can't I hit her over the head?

-CIL IV, 1284.

I like Wikipedia!

I introduce to you...

2006-05-26T22:22:00.000-07:00

The Museum of Twits

If you need a laugh, taking into account that you're not a twit anyway, then check it out. Especially the All Time Favourites. Especially if you can't stand tHiS. Or diZzzzZ.

Otherwise, just ignore it.

Thank you.

Two Week Break

2006-05-26T04:12:00.000-07:00

I'm having a two week break before the exams resume, but let me tell you, it feels like it's over already. This is why I've been sitting in front of the laptop ever since I got back from school, playing, surfing, everything I haven't been able to do (with a clear conscience anyway) for the past week which seemed more like a month.

My brain is feeling dizzy owing to lack of oxygen, so for the time being, I will post the essay I wrote for my English examination.

Questions:

1. The year 3000
2. Teenagers and their problems
3. The house I would like to live in
4. Write a story that ends "... we looked at each other and smiled."
5. Some peopel have an irrational fear of cockroaches, high places or of something else. Describe the irrational fears that you or members of your family may have.

All of them were fairly nice to write about. I was tempted to write number 5 since I have many irrational fears but all I could think of, for some reason, was Bang Bang playing football in her new red and white Total 90 Nike football boots. So, I did number 4. Here goes:

I tentatively stepped onto the soft, green grass, breathing in the smell of a beautiful day. The sun was shining warmly, the grass was slightly wet with a hint of rainwater on their fresh green blades, and a breeze was playing gently in the air. It was a perfect day and a perfect day meant football.

It was still early as I paced around. The others had not arrived yet. My mind raced as a million thoughts echoed throughout simultaneously. What if they changed? What if they were different? It had been maybe six years since we last met properly --- Primate, Kaitlin, H, EP, Bang Bang and I. Likewise, at least six years since we last played a proper game of football together. I smiled wistfully to myself. Everyone used to say football was not for girls, but we used to play anyway. How I missed those crazy football days!

As I was preoccupied with the wave of thoughts that flooded me, Bang Bang seemed to appear out of nowhere, complete in her football attire. She looked basically the same, only older. I fingered the edge of my jersey, trying to stem the gush of uncertainty and awkwardness.

"You're early..." I remarked, glancing at my watch.
"So are you!" Bang Bang replied off-handedly while putting on her red and white boots, not even looking up.

I eased a little. A smirk crept cautiously at the edges of my mouth. Just some years back, Bang Bang had called herself "athletically handicapped" and stayed well away from sports, like it was the plague. But a single football session had changed all that. I doubt she ever stopped playing football, even while studying Linguistics in Cambridge.

I wanted to break the thin layer of silence that was slowly forming, slowly hardening.

"Remember the time when you used to hate football? Or sports, for that matter?" I teased as I looked at her accusingly.
"Don't remind me. And if you're looking for thanks again, I've thanked you a million times already." Bang Bang snapped back, doing up her laces.

I could not suppress a tiny smile. A strange seed of happiness welled up inside me, as if it had been waiting to bloom all this while. Bang Bang had not changed much at all. She was still the cynical, sharp-tongued, painfully direct and slightly weird Bang Bang I knew and liked. How strange that time changes some things, but some things always remain essentially the same throughout the sands of time!

I gestured at the red and golden football she brought with her. It was worn, even scratched, but spotlessly clean.

"Wanna practice a bit first?"

Bang Bang got up and dusted her shirt. She walked wringing her hands slightly, yet so strangely business-like, just like she used to.

"Sure!" she replied, with a high-pitched curve at the end. Typical Perkybangbangness.

We strode onto the field. I could feel the grass beneath my boots, the droplets clinging, refusing to let go.

Bang Bang placed the ball confidently on the pitch. Confidence. Another Bang Bang trademark, unless you see her cramming some last-minute Chemistry before the exams.

"Go for it, Bang."

I wondered whether she improved, whether she got better, though not for long.

Bang Bang took a quick run, whipping the football into the air ferociously with the inside of her right foot, bringing up some grass and earth along with it. We bent backwards to look at the ball, half-blinded by the sun, half amazed.

And as the football, a magnificent spinning red and golden blur against the clear blue sky, sailed comfortably into the top corner of the net, we looked at each other and smiled.

The Shadow of Exams!

2006-05-18T23:26:00.000-07:00

If I didn't make it clear enough in my previous post, exams are coming. In about 3 days time, in fact.

And by writing this post, I suppose it's rather clear that I am, as I always have been, easing off the stress of studying.

Exams are like a shadow. They cast darkness over the things I like to do. Like football, mindless computer games, surfing the 'net, reading storybooks not relevent to what goes on in class and stuff like that. It's the time of dark circles round my eyes and huge eyebags that make King Kong look like a tiny inverted e-monk (I'll let you chew on that for a while). It's the time of Dragon Well tea and any sort of Chinese tea for that matter, joining forces with my iPod and a handy box of raisins in a vain attempt to keep my mind awake, resulting in frequent trips to the bathroom. It's the time of Physics Marathons and hours trying to figure out what the textbooks are trying (and failing) to tell me.

Doesn't that just sound like bliss?

Sadly, this means that this will also be the time of infrequent/utterly random blogposts and this time means a month. I promise to try to squeeze in as many as I possibly can with my impossibly small timeslot of 1 hour computer time a day.

In the meantime, let us all hope that the brains Bang Bang has so kindly lent to me will help me through this awful yet inevitable month. So long.

50 Bucks

2006-05-11T07:33:00.000-07:00

Today, I earned 50 bucks. Come to think of it, this is the first time I have ever earned anything apart from allowances which don't really count, so I'm quite glad, along with a few of my friends who were invited to do a job by our dear Uncle Jason. It was a team-building outdoor-activity thing for a certain company, with abseiling and stuff like that so our job was to make sure they put on the safety equipment right, run here and there, stuff like that.

It was an international sort of company so there were different sorts of people with not only of different races, but also personalities. I noticed that most of them smoke. Some of them were fun happy campers but some of them were quite cold and unfeeling. Some were in desperate need of team building. One of my jobs was to distribute these pieces of paper which they'd get via lucky dip, and assign them to the groups (stated on paper). These two young women came in late and got assigned to teams already on their way out. So, I directed them to the place they were supposed to go to but they ignored me and just took more pieces out. All of those teams were already on their way elsewhere and I told them so. Then I asked them politely once again to make their way to the car park (which is the nearest), even giving them directions but the Asian looking one said, "No, too lazy!" and then proceeded to throw the ripped pieces of paper back into the bag. After that she ran off with her friend and joined a random group of their liking.

Talk about team spirit.

I also met a nice Indian man, Mr Krishnan who was also helping out, although he is way more professional than I am. He was very friendly and made sure we were okay. On top of that, he could speak a Chinese dialect fluently! I was so surprised when I heard him speak, but I suppose learning an extra language like that has helped him greatly according to Uncle Jason, but I never know when to trust Uncle Jason so I am not sure whether he was pulling my leg.

It rained as well so we were soaking. I had to do some more things which included shielding a lady's handbag from the rain and catching safety equipment from Mr Krishnan a few floors above.

At the end of the day, I was wet, dirty, and my legs ached then I went straight off to Mrs C. But I was happy because it was such a fun experience! Hopefully I'll get another callback from Uncle Jason.

I apologise for the poor quality of this post. I promise to write better after the horrid exams which start next week. Till then, I remain yours truly.

Walking Through the Cemetery

2006-05-03T05:28:00.000-07:00

A whole bunch of us went for the Heritage Jogathon some days back. One might ask, why is this called a Heritage Jogathon? Actually, I figured out later, that it was to unite people to stand up against other people who are fiddling with the idea of excavating our graveyards in order to build other grander buildings that are worth more to the economy than a bunch of dead people. It was a 6.5 km Jogathon which included a short distance through a huge cemetery.

I started out jogging at a very slow pace, but after some distance I gave up. I don't know why. I disgust myself. I think I could've easily gone on for some time more but I just felt so lazy. It's ironic how a bunch of handicapped people also turned up for the Jogathon and gave it all they could while silly people like me quit. Not something I am proud of, so reader, you have my permission to scold me.

I ended up walking with Bang Bang who is a brisk walker. Everybody who joined the Jogathon was given a purple shirt. Under the strangely hot sun (it was still mid-morning at that time), we looked like zombies trudging near the cemetery. Zombies with weird purple shirts.

By the time I entered the cemetery, Kaitlin and the Primate must have been a kilometre or two ahead already. But I kind of began un-regretting I stopped jogging when I saw the cemetery. Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of graves, Chinese style. Trees; really old and gnarled ones, shading them here and there. It was strangely beautiful, the way you don't expect graveyards to be. There was a little valley sinking down at one part, and the sunlight spilled right into it, revealing some more lovely trees and more graveyards, all neatly arranged. Some of the graveyards on the edge had dates right back to 1956. I think there could've easily been 100 year old graves there, seeing how those were only on the very edge. Some were very untidy, broken, and suffering from wild grass and weeds. I was feeling sorry for the poor graves, but Bang Bang said that their children and grandchildren are probably dead too now so you can't expect anything much, which is a good point. Some had nice flowers growing all over them. Still, the best was this one grave with grass all over it, and one solitary yellow flower somewhere in the middle. I think it was an act of nature, which adds more value to its beauty. My disappearing feeling of regret-for-not-running-more was gradually replaced by a feeling of regret-I-didn't-bring-a-camera.

It is at times like these I wonder what sort of lives those dead people lived and what happened to them. It's like a huge treasure chest of stories that we'll never ever get the chance to know. Were they happy and self-satisfied individuals? Or just plain, bitter people who spent their life wallowing in self-pity like some do today? Each of them must have led an interesting life; everyone does. It is amazing to think how lives intertwine at times, and how maybe, the world is just one huge storybook.

And then before we knew it Bang Bang and I finished the Jogathon-turned-Walkathon. Kaitlin got 14th and the Primate got 16th, which is very good considering the huge turn-out! Championland is proud of them.

Congratulations!

Unguarded Utterance

2006-04-30T21:30:00.000-07:00

I have yet another blog to recommend to everyone: a poetry blog by the name of Unguarded Utterance. Have a look yourself.

On another note, I have just finished Under the Persimmon Tree by Suzanne Fisher Staples. It's a children's book I bought just for fun, about Afghanistan. Books about Afghanistan and China seem to be selling like hot cakes lately. Anyhow, I was curious to see how the writer would write about Afghanistan since a lot of the violence and other elements would have to be cut out because it is a children's book, and I was in need of light reading.

It was quite okay, although not very well-written, but definitely suitable for kids so I suppose it serves its purpose. It's not a book I'd strongly recommend, so it's not on the sidebar, but a nice book for light reading anyway.

Squash

2006-04-29T04:38:00.000-07:00

I have just returned to school after being at the squash tournament for a very long time. No; not to play, as many people are prone to believe (hah), but to be an officer. That is the nice term. The real term is something close to a labourer.

I don't know why I decided to go, just that two clashing classes this week had been cancelled earlier so I took that as an 'omen'. Plus, I did a bit of self-invented calculating and figured the stuff I'd miss wouldn't be that much. So I went.

It was indeed an experience. Almost fun, because I haven't been feeling like going to school lately. So it was a good opportunity to take a break. My job was writing down scores and doing odd jobs like pasting stuff everywhere. I've become quite good with cellophane tape and scissors. Also, after writing down dozens of scores it kinda comes naturally to you who is good and who isn't. I liked the Under 12s the best because they're so titchy and it's hard to imagine how they can play so well!

I also learnt that:

Parents and players alike can be incredibly sore losers and they like to complain to themselves about how they should have won. Should have. Come to think of it, almost everyone does that.
Teachers can gossip a lot. It is quite entertaining to listen to them.
Prince brand squash balls break easily.
The aforementioned broken squash balls can be easily turned into talking balls-puppets.

Overall though, it was nice to see that there is a future for squash in the country. However, some of the parents leave much to be desired. They can be quite uptight and snobby. They don't even smile when you smile at them, because they're more concerned about their daughter/son winning. Here are some of the conversations I accidentally overheard. Really, it was an accident.

Conversation 1:
Mother: *studies scoreboard* Okay, (daughter), you are going to face XXX in the next round! *grips daughter's shoulder* Come, let me talk to you about this (opponent).

Conversation 2:
Daughter: *stares at scoreboard* (Some foul language) I should have been the second seed right down here! Then I wouldn't have to face that girl, maybe I'd get into the semis or finals... Hrmph... (grumbles on)
Mother: Shut up (daughter). *very uptight snobbish look*

I also observed that some people like to suck up to the really good players even though they don't know them at all.

In every way, the whole squash event was a new experience. The omens were quite right. :)

My Silver Lining

2006-04-22T03:55:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I was just chatting with Lizzie and telling him I feel constantly irritated and confused now, but I'm sure I will spot my silver lining soon amidst this cloud. Today, I have found it: crazy football days are back again!

We have gotten a new Coach, Coach Mark who is a very nice coach. From what I can tell now anyway because he is the encouraging type and not the scolding type who makes you feel like your under constant pressure. His training is also very constructive.

At first, I didn't know that there was going to be a coach today. So when I spotted the coach and a couple of familiar people I never thought I was going to see again, I looked like this:

Oh yeah.

During the training, even though I felt like a complete idiot as I always do, only extra idiotic because I haven't been playing properly for months, I felt like a mixture of this:

And this:

Because, good football days are back again! I thought it would be better to use photos to illustrate my feelings.

To top it all off, The Jabbering Primate, Kaitlin, Bang Bang and Skroots were all there! Nothing like playing football with good friends. And all so unexpected!

Ann Spam feels so very happy at the moment. I hereby promise I will come online less often, study more and daydream less, in order to make time for the wonderful sport that is called football. Played by girls. Ha.

Let me introduce you to...

2006-04-21T03:03:00.000-07:00

The Jabbering Green Primate.

Self-satisfied, a lover of primates big and small, occasionally plagued by huge pulsating pimples, rock-lover, girl-footballer, spastic nuthead and green-lover rolled into one, The Jabbering Green Primate has embarked on her blogging journey after minimal Spammish Persuasion.

Standing at 5 foot something and weighing 50 something kilos, The Jabbering Green Primate is the most humanoid primate you are likely to come across, and the smartest one too.

So what are you waiting for? Prick the pulsating green pimple on The Jabbering Green Primate's chin and enter a world where orang-utans are king.

Post of Randomness

2006-04-18T00:47:00.000-07:00

I have finally found something that can describe how I feel when a play a good game of football.

"To Frisbee, With Love" by Miss Darell. Just substitute "frisbee" with "football" and some other frisbee-y terms with footbally terms. Sometimes you don't have to be an ultra-whizz at a certain sport to love it all the same.

On the other hand, there is an Edufair at school tomorrow, which also means no Math with Mr T. Yes! It also leads me to think about all the flyers they'll be handing out tomorrow. Come to think of it, I still have a few in my room which will inevitably end up in the recycling bin.

I can't imagine how these colleges and whatevers can spend so much money on printing these flyers, which, in my opinion, aren't all that informative. Plus, they're mostly full of people with perfect white teeth and smiling faces. A supposed image of how happy you'll be if you choose to study at that particular college and what a great time the people there are having. Most of them are printed on matte, high-quality paper. Some of them even have plasticky bits on the matte paper to make it look nicer. I must admit, they're really nice to touch and all, but it kind of makes you wonder whether they're putting more emphasis on printing flyers and trying to get students to study at their college, or on education itself.

This also reminds me of the time they made us take some career personality test thing which was extremely ridiculous. According to that test, I am most suited to become a rabbi or a minister.

Hah. That explains why I'm not particularly convinced that the Edufair will be of much use, doesn't it? Since I still don't know what I want to do in life anyway. Plus, I don't think they offer courses for potential rabbis or ministers.

Happy Belated Easter!

2006-04-18T00:20:00.000-07:00

Happy Belated Easter everyone! I wasn't going to post something like this up, but this picture I saw on 340 metres per second made me smile. So of course I'm putting it up here as well.

Start laughing!

Football Saturday

2006-04-16T05:49:00.000-07:00

I haven't been blogging about football for the past few months because I haven't been playing football properly. It's pretty sad story which I won't go into right now. Yesterday, I had the best day of football I've ever had in ages.

We were pretty lucky, about the 8 of us, because it was 4.30 pm, but the weather was so good. Cooling, without too much sun. And because it just rained, the field was nice and soft, not too hard and dry, just the way I like it.

Even Bang Bang was there. I must say, it was quite a nice surprise. I hope she'll come again the next time.

Tuan scored about 3 goals. She was smart because all she did was stand near the opponent's goal and stick her foot out whenever the ball came her way, which was quite often. And more often than not, the goalkeeper was somehow missing in action. Next was Flora with one goal, I think.

We played for about an hour but it didn't feel like it. That's how football's supposed to be!

I miss the crazy football days.

Happy Birthday, Champion!

2006-04-13T07:46:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is Kaitlin's birthday, also known as Champion Teh. Another April baby.

Truly, she is a real Champion at heart and at sports.

She is: (I can just imagine her whacking me)

the Best ever captain of Purple House
a Hater of a certain despicable lady whose name starts with L
Respected by everyone in school
I repeat, highly respected by everyone in school!

Since I cannot offer her the solid gold trophy she so thoroughly deserves, I will instead dedicate this one post to her, and bestow upon her, the Ann Spam Award! With this award, she can raise the dead and stun the living!

I really hope she gets to read this post for herself.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TIAN HUEY!

Say No To Pants!

2006-04-12T05:18:00.000-07:00

I enjoyed this one throughly as well!

Say No To Pants by Kai-boy

You need Quicktime to view it though!

Tom Cruise Kills Oprah

2006-04-11T01:04:00.000-07:00

This is so funny, I couldn't resist putting it up here! Credit to Warren.

Enjoy!

For Hope

2006-04-10T04:19:00.000-07:00

A belated happy birthday once more, to Hope, whose birthday fell on the 7th of April.

Hope, is so abstract
yet comes to me in the form of
a person - Leying.

A hope for the future,
the past, the present,
anybody.
A Hope for Ann Spam - Leying.

The fountain of,
(yes you've guessed it),
Hope, runs evermore.
If I could create a perfect world;
it wouldn't be without Hope - Leying.

Happy birthday, my friend! I'm sorry I'm always resulting to writing crappy poems as your birthday present, but I hope you like it!

Digging for Straws

2006-04-08T22:59:00.000-07:00

On Friday, I dug around the dustbins for straws. A total act of desparation because my House (sports house) needed it and I pretty much jump at every opportunity to do anything because there isn't much I can do. Obviously, I can't go teach the marching contingent how to march because I'm not some band member who knows how to turn a bunch of zeroes into heroes, albeit very nice, sweet, zeroes. Nor am I some super artistic person who paints beautifully. Heck, I'm not even a committee member! So, the only things I can do when Sports Day rolls around is:

a) Glue things together
b) Tie things
c) Cut things
d) Get drinks for everybody

And the best of all:

e) Beg a certain band member to help out with the marching

But since nobody needed me to do any of the things listed above, I went digging for straws. Points are given for recycling. We did not have much recycley stuff. I'll let you figure that one out yourself.

Before Friday, I never paused to think about how many packet drinks and straws students can consume in one day. The answer is tons. The canteen people must be earning millions! Everywhere, there're drinks. Straws. More drinks. More straws. So, a bunch of people and I went straw-hunting and we pretty much told every Green House member to do the same.

The worst part was hunting through the dustbins full of rubbish. They're brimming full of drinks ,straws and much else besides. All I had to do was pluck them out. After some time, I got used to the gooey-feeling straws, the icy ones, the clean-looking ones, the chewed up ones, the folded ones... It's okay when you're taking the straws from the packets on top, but what happens when you take them all, and you see more at the bottom? Yeah, you close your eyes and grope around deep inside the trash to get at those straws. I swear I saw some half-eaten chicken inside.

This is when people start to stare. They look at this girl in an oversized school shirt with dark blue shorts trying to assault a harmless dustbin and stare some more. The smarter ones actually came over and asked what I was doing. The smartest ones said "Oh, um, let me help you." There I was, hand in dustbin, other hand clutching a plastic bag with used-straws, while the smartest ones started giving me their straws and/or helping me grope around as well. If that's not recycling I don't know what that is.

But let me tell you, to have all these random people suddenly come up and help you especially when they're not of the same House, it's a tremendous, tremendous feeling.

I must have looked pretty stupid going through dustbins with a huge smile on my face and a huger number of straws in the bag. Then these two random guys started giving me more straws. More! Two of the random people I asked to help (Green House kiddies). They were so into the whole straw thing, collecting them and washing them up. To find a kiddie new to the school and who is willing to do this sort of thing, it's unbelievable. It's incredible!

Of course, there was also a larger number or people who just stared and some even asked me what House I'm from, then hurriedly ran away with smrks on their faces. Probably thinking ha, luckily I'm not a member of Green House. I looked at them slyly and hoped they get to do this great job 5 years later.

In the end, I don't think they used all the straws. But whatever.

After Sports Day (we got 2nd place), three of us friends had to clean up the room we used to decorate stuff. It was so trashed up, with glitter stuck stubbornly to the floor and rubbish everywhere. Three of us. Don't ask me where the others were. Some maybe taking down the camp though.

And suddenly, who pops by but my Chemistry teacher. She took a look at the room and probably thanked the Lord that her house isn't as messy as that place. Then, she stepped right in and actually helped us clean up the place. She scrubbed and swept along with the rest of us voluntary slaves.

Most teachers are content to stand around telling voluntary slaves like me what to do. If you're lucky, maybe they'll even comment a little or complain about how you're doing things all wrong. They stand with their arms folded and clothes clean, observing. It's pretty rare to meet a teacher who is dedicated and kind enough to step in and help you clean up the mess you've made by yourself.

It's at times like these you start to think there is some hope left for this world. There always has been.

The Laptop Incident

2006-04-06T03:19:00.000-07:00

My laptop, I believe, has gone away to computer heaven and will not be coming back.

Just about 2 weeks ago, I was very innocently and happily typing out some stuff on my laptop. Suddenly, I noticed the battery power was at about, 30%, so I got up and switched on the external power switch.

I stepped back. The screen was dead. Blank. No lights flickering or anything. No cheerful green light telling me that it's still alive. Gone. Everything.

I thought, hmmm, maybe the battery was at 3% and it just ran out of power. So I flipped the switch on and off, checked the wires. No orange light to tell me that it had started charging up.

I told myself, not to worry, not to worry. Picked the whole thing up and plugged it in somewhere else. Still no light. Zilch. Even took out the battery and everything and popped it back in. Tried everything I could think of.

Then it hit me like the way the terrorists flew a plane into the World Trade Center. My laptop, that had reported no problems beforehand, functioning smoothly until this day, is dead. Not coming back.

I would like to say I let out a long wail of despair and grief but instead, I sent it to the repairman.

Diagnosis: Motherboard problem.

Everyone knows that means ha-there-is-no-hope-go-get-a-new-laptop-or-go-away.

Conclusion: If you're thinking of getting a laptop, you might not want to choose Acer. So very much prone to sudden deaths. Just a warning for you people out there. I don't think it was even more than 2, 3 years old. It amazes me though, how it had become such an integral part of my room, thankfully I'll be getting a backup of the data stored in it.

Oh well, life goes on.

A Sort of Bliss

2006-04-03T04:20:00.000-07:00

I remember the time I went to catch prawns, squid, seafood, the like. We, actually, my friends and I.

We traipsed through the mangrove forest, learning quickly to clench our toes so we wouldn't slip and fall. Listening to the quietness of the trees, breathing in the compressed oxygen, watching the mud skippers and little snails as they crawled along the slippery mud of their world, feeling the cool squishy earth beneath our feet, glad that we left our flip flops behind.

And then, the beach just opened up, just like that. Just like that. Acres and acres of virgin sky, sun, sand and sea. As far and as wide as the eye can see, limitless, knowing no boundaries. I had a feeling, a feeling that I could just run for ages along this wonderful beach, yet know no tiredness nor see the end of it. To run at full speed against the salty wind, whipping your hair back, bringing up forgotten dreams, burying those I should have buried a long time ago. To feel the sun in all its heavenly glory beating down upon me, us, everyone. Of course, I got terribly sunburnt, but it was like one of those movies that go into slow motion, trying but failing, to preserve the moment.

Then jumping into the sea, getting the nets, pulling them in, looking at the creatures we brought in. Picking up the prawns by their heads, throwing them into the bucket. Making sure they don't squirm to much and jump right out of your grip. Holding the baby jellyfish tenderly on our palms and admiring them a while, before returning them to the sea that is their home. Collecting some squid, fish, anything edible, or anything that didn't survive.

Lying down on the soft blackish mud-sand the beach had to offer. Just soaking in everything till noon.

On the way back, the little crabs accompanied us, burying their little holes in the sand, readying themselves for another day. For us though, there will never be another tomorrow there. The sea reached in closer and closer to the mangrove forest.

Sitting back at the shack, eating the steamed prawns, shell and all, savouring the sweet juice, laughing at the drops that miss our lips. Doing all that while waiting, with salt and sand encrusted arms and feet, for our respective turns to shower. Yet feeling strangely content.

That is a sort of bliss.

Championland

2006-03-29T05:24:00.000-08:00

I have a ton of friends who are multi-talented.

Especially at sports.

Thus, I have a dream. I have a dream! I have a dream to create my own country --- Championland. It may not become reality tomorrow, or next week, but it will be one day. On different planes of existance, in a different dimension, on a different planet, in dreams, wherever.

Citizens of my country will be called Champions. They will also be known as Heroes/Heroines, or at the very least, The Most Revered Gold Medallists. And I will be their dictator/prime minister/president/spokesperson (at the very least). I will be the one running around looking important and sticking my face in during interviews. When the next Olympics rolls around the Champions will rule, and they will do what their name implies: win gold medals. Because, when Ann Spam says you are a Champion, you know you are a Champion. Our flag will be one made of gold, with trophies and medals etched all over it, and of course, my name. For the one who is least talented should at least get her name etched somewhere important.

And so, let it be.

A Million and One Questions

2006-03-24T02:28:00.000-08:00

"So, please go home and finish all the questions up to... number 41 of Part 2. And don't forget the paper I just gave you," she smiles and adds, "Remember to cover up the answers."

"That's like... a million and one questions!" I wring my hands at the thought of hours and hours of major brain activity.

She frowns. "Okay maybe you can keep that paper for later, you don't have to hurry..."

"By then I'd have forgotten how to do 80% of the sums!" I grin. Unfortunate, but true.

Suddenly she is all worked up. "There's isn't any other way about it! You will just have to sit down and finish everything. How can you improve if you don't practice? Practice makes perfect!"

I am tempted to tell her I won't ever be perfect. No one is. Except maybe Maggie Fitzgerald in Million Dollar Baby.

Her eyes blaze and her nostrils flare as she scrutinises me, daring me to say otherwise.

"Okay, okay... I will do it!" It doesn't seem to have the instantaneous calming effect I wanted.

I repeat myself about half a dozen times, ignoring the prospect of less Internet surfing time and more math this week.

Her eyebrows slide back to their original position and her shoulders relax.

"That's what I like to hear."

Care to inspire?

2006-03-21T23:51:00.000-08:00

Over the past few days, reminders have been popping up everywhere for me to finally complete the essay I'm supposed to hand in for the competition. It's strange to think I've always wanted to join something but somehow I never end up finishing it. Not that I would win anything anyway, but I think I'll just do it for self-satisfaction.

Currently, I am very uninspired. Hence, the lack of blogposts of late. A very bad time to be inspired when I have to finish the essay, hopefully by the 29th of this month! I did jot some stuff down when I chatted with Lizzie about three weeks ago but I didn't continue owing to examinations. So,

Please inspire me!

The topic, if I remember correctly, goes something like 'If I could change the world...'

Threebies!

2006-03-17T06:54:00.000-08:00

I'm back, exhausted and sunburnt. Anyhow a quick post before I go off to the Land of Nod.

Penguin was having a promotion thing, Threebies. They bind three books together and sell it at a discounted price, so you can imagine my joy. Loads cheaper if you think about it, with all the division and multiplication. The end result was me buying about 6 books that I have not heard much of, just because it's a good deal. However, most of them have won awards and stuff so they should be pretty good. Here's the list:

1. Everything Is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer
2. White Teeth by Zadie Smith
3. Notes On A Scandal by Zoe Heller
4. What A Carve Up! by Jonathan Coe
5. Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons
6. A Home At the End of the World by Michael Cunningham

I was also lucky to meet a super-nice shop assistant who was prepared to wade through a mountain of books to get me a copy of The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini, something I've been wanting to get for a long, long time.

Happy days! More posts later when I recover.

Straight A's!

2006-03-13T05:44:00.000-08:00

Today, Miss Darell, after a very pointless night of fretting over nothing, found out that she got straight A1's for SPM! Which is no mean feat. Now I can go around telling the whole world my friend Miss Darell got straight A1's.

Although Miss Darell has already promised me a tall iced Coke, I feel that I should reward her in some way. Since I am not in the position to offer her a full medical scholarship to anyplace she wants, nor can I get her a solid gold trophy for her achievements, I will, instead, offer her a blog post. So,

CONGRATULATIONS, MISS DARELL!

Recollection

2006-03-10T05:07:00.000-08:00

You're gone, and I am here, trying to run, yet falling involuntarily down memory lane. Do you remember? Do you remember the time I was trying to run, yet coming so close to quitting? Then you came, in your Arsenal jersey. It was so red, would have stood out a mile, and it did then. But what mattered the most was you kept you promise. You kept your promise, even though I didn't expect you to. You smiled and waved, I did likewise.

And then suddenly, almost magically, the frustration faded away like a sunset into the night, giving way to the bright glittering stars, diamonds on a sea of black velvet.

Arsenal till we die.

Now, here I am, trying once again to run in the soft mud, my shoes already dirtied beyond recognition. Desperately, I try to conjure up an image, a thought, to ward of the fatigue, and there you are. You're in your jersey again, you kept your promise. No longer a soft edged image, but razor sharp. Waving away the tiredness not unlike phagocytosis.

I was never a runner. I am not, and will never be one. But for a few glorious moments, I almost did feel like one, and all because you kept your promise.

Bloody Good Poems!

2006-03-04T03:25:00.000-08:00

“You can shed tears that she is gone,
or you can smile because she has lived.

You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back,
or you can open your eyes and see all she's left.

Your heart can be empty because you can't see her,
or you can be full of the love you shared.

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember her only that she is gone,
or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.

You can cry and close your mind,
be empty and turn your back.

Or you can do what she'd want:
smile, open your eyes, love and go on.”

written 1981

David Harkins 1959 -

Silloth, Cumbria, UK

It's a version of:

REMEMBER ME

Do not shed tears when I have gone
but smile instead because I have lived.

Do not shut your eyes and pray to God that I'll come back
but open your eyes and see all that I have left behind.

I know your heart will be empty because you cannot see me
but still I want you to be full of the love we shared.

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live only for yesterday
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of what happened between us yesterday.

You can remember me and grieve that I have gone
or you can cherish my memory and let it live on.

You can cry and lose yourself, become distraught and
turn your back on the world
or you can do what I want - smile, wipe away the tears,
learn to love again and go on.

Immortalising the Rubber Ducky

2006-03-02T22:38:00.000-08:00

English writing examination today, right after Physics, which was a relief otherwise I'd have been thinking about Physics all throughout English. The muse would have suffered terribly. Not that it has been a very good muse lately but it behaved today I guess.

The topics this time were fairly writeable as compared to the last one.

1. The most unusual place I have visited
2. Write about someone you either respect or fear
3. The importance of keeping fit
4. Write a story beginning with "It was the chance of a lifetime......"
5. Abuse

And the immortalising the rubber ducky part? This is a spoofy ultra short one of question 4. This wasn't what I handed in, in case you're wondering.

The rubber ducky could see it now. If it could only swim to the plughole and jump down, it would be free! Free of horrible baths and playtime with Bang Bang!

As it worked its way to the plughole, it felt an all too familiar hand clutch its yellow rubbery body.

"Ah, there you are, ducky! Time for our bang bang session! You wanna bang bang with me, don't you?"

The rubber ducky stared on sadly, helpless, as the last drops of bathwater flowed down the drain. It tried to make mental preparations for yet another bang bang sesion.

The chance of a lifetime, and it had missed it.

Over and out.

Class Photos

2006-02-28T03:10:00.000-08:00

I've been looking at my old class photos lately, the primary school ones. I only have 50% of them. I fully regret not taking good care of the other 50% (God knows where they've all gone...).

Surprisingly, Lizzie is in all the photos. I never realised who was in my class in what year. Big example of how blur I was, how ignorant. In the earlier two, he's making silly faces. The only silly face amongst a big bunch of forced smiles and seriousness. Such a big difference as compared to the latest one, where he's all back-straight, serious looking, not Lizzie anymore but grown-up, mature, LZH. But to me, always Lizzie. Never will I forget the crazy let's-see-who-goes-home-last-and-has-to-suffer-the-wrath-of-
the-evil-schoolguard days.

Which reminds me of Ka. Ka is in two of the photos, except the earliest one. Looking all businesslike and upright, as she still is now except when she goes on rants about how she kept an article about these siamese twins joined at the head or the person with a missing kidney. Once she even wrote on the blackboard "Matilda is the greatest book ever" or something like that. Remember, remember? And how I was convinced you were somehow related to Tutankhamun. And the AlphaBix dinosaurs that you used to eat during recess.

Then there's JY. She was always so sophisticated. Weren't you? I think you'd disagree but I still think so. In all the photos (I have) you are model-like, your gaze pierces, even in a photo. The power of a photo. And Jean! You always sat right at the back with Davina doing who knows what. Remember our own version of Survivor, and the dumb jokes we used to make up? I miss your emails. And your blogposts.

As I look at each and every face that has been frozen still by the photos, I realise that I recognise some, the others I don't. It is a great pity. Some I know, have turned out to become Casanovas of their own schools. Some ditched the bottle-cap glasses for other things, both good and bad. Some I knew were always headed in a certain path, and they are still there.

All this and more...

The Blog with a capital B demonstrates its power here. Without it, I doubt I'd be half as close to some of you as I am now.

Untitled

2006-02-21T01:19:00.000-08:00

This will be my last post for February 2006, till my examinations finish.

Today extra class was cancelled so I had about 40 minutes to kill before I went home. I decided to pay a visit to the columbarium in the church next door. Nobody wanted to go with me so I went by myself. I just felt like it and I have been wanting to.

It was strange, because I've passed by this place about a million times in my life, since pre-school. But I never once stopped to take a look. The empty faces of smooth grey stones have filled up steadily since. I never realised until today.

I liked the church all empty, unlike on weekends when it's all filled up. I looked into the church to see the endless rows of pews, that are filled up with a seemingly endless tide of people on weekends. They gleamed in the sunlight. It had me mesmerised for a while. I wasn't totally alone; there were some other people walking through the church and a few strangers.

For once I could see the tall green bamboo trees next to the church, the sunlight pouring through them casting shadows on the tarred road. No cars there to block it it all. The birds were actually singing, the sky was actually blue, there were actually white fluffy clouds hanging like huge pieces of cotton candy. I like cotton candy.

I glanced through most of them there. Then I recognised some surnames that must be somehow related to some people I know because they're quite rare. It gave me that weird tingly feeling, which was weird coupled with the hot sun scorching my back. Some of them had photos. I've decided that when I die my picture must be a very funny, crappy, candid one that'll make people smile instead of feel sad, because most of the photos there made me feel sad. I guess I'm a sucker for misery.

I said a few prayers for the people I (think) I recognised and then I left. It won't be my last visit.

The sky was still blue, the sun was still shining, the birds still singing, the cotton candy still hanging in the sky, but I felt different.

10 Metres and English Lit

2006-02-20T05:26:00.000-08:00

600 metres in 3 minutes. And I couldn't do it! The first and last time I actually attempted to run properly, and I missed it by 10 metres. I didn't even get a point in that particular event for my very needy house. Lack of willpower that kept me from sprinting the last 50 metres! No one shouting out the last 10 seconds to force the last reserves of energy out of me! All I got was a burning throat which made me cringe and sputter. See, so unfit.

But like Mel said in the car, it's hard for the average person. Which ultimately means that she's above average, which is very true. But still, I will not regret. I will not regret. I will not regret!

After that I went to Literature in English class all disgusting and late to do the White Heron by Sarah Orne Jewett. It is quite a good story. Actually, any story is quite good when Mr C discusses it. He has this tendency to make me feel retarded during his class, mark of a good teacher I suppose. Undeniably the best English teacher I've ever had.

Today he mentioned pathetic fallacy, which I hadn't heard of till today. Click on the link if you want to know what it is because I'm not good at explaining. Then we discussed the exams which inevitably led to the talk of A's B's and C's.

Class with Mr C is always so fun, for some reason. (Hint, Ka, double hint.)

I think even if I get a C for English Lit I wouldn't mind very much because like they say in the cinema with a cool Irish (or was it Scottish?) accent, it's the experience that counts.

Another Tag

2006-02-17T04:07:00.000-08:00

Michael tagged me so here it is!

The way it works.

Knock the top name off the list below. Add yours to the bottom.

Rebel Without a Pew
Clever Title Here
Ramblings from a Disenchanted Idealist
YummyBrainGravy
Ann Spam

Tag five people for this meme

1. Ka
2. Cryptkeeper
3. Florence
4. Lizzie
5. Miss Darell

You can do this thing even if you're name's not there because I'm having brain-freeze and I might've forgotten somebody or somebodies.

What were you doing 10 years ago?

I was young, innocent and just started real school. That's when I met two of my very bestest friends, in fact I'm still bestest friends with them, 10 year anniversary, hey! I was also terrorised by the school guard for always being the last to go home. I think after that Lizzie was there to keep me company so we took turns going home last. Thanks, Lizzie!

What were you doing a year ago?

My old blog got deleted so I couldn't check. It was probably the starting of a bad relationship with Chemistry and Physics, though more so with Chemistry.

5 snacks you enjoy

1. Iced Coke (I know, I know, I'm going to get osteoporosis or die early or something)
2. Chinese tea
3. Apple pie
4. Iced Chocolate from Starbucks (not Coffee Bean!)
5. Chocolate

5 Songs to which you know all the words. Actually, more like almost or half. Or stuff I like. I don't retain lyrics so easily.

1. One Little Slip by Barenaked Ladies
2. Drops of Jupiter by Train
3. Semi Charmed Life by Third Eye Blind
4. Go the Distance by Michael Bolton
5. Home by Michael Buble

I also kinda like 'Ride' by the Lost Prophets minus the screaming parts. Those parts are really lost!

5 things you'd do if you were a millionare

1. I'd buy this football place with lovely lovely turf and a huge collection of branded footballs. Then I'd hire the bestest and nicest coach in the world so I can play football with my friends and I. Oh yeah, I'll also have these ultra-high-tech thingies that will teach anyone who peeks and laughs at us a lesson. Plus, I won't be obliged to join any silly competition I don't want to join or be mistreated all the time.
2. Hire a genius to take my place in school for a while so my brain can relax. :)
3. I'll build my own schools all over the world for poor and underprivileged children. Then I'll make sure that all the English teachers who teach in my schools can actually teach English and not make their students watch a lame VCD for Literature.
4. I'll buy a super huge huge huge library with all the good books in the world. Occasionally when reality gets too much for me I'll pop into my wonderful library and lose myself in the stories of other people, fictitious or not.
5. Go globe-trotting.

5 Bad habits

1. Procrastination
2. Being anti-social when I'm not supposed to
3. Doing my homework while surfing the Net
4. Being downright ungrateful when I should be doing the opposite
5. Prodding, poking, and telling the person next to me to stop singing

5 things you enjoy doing

1. Words
2. Meeting new people (whether I like them or not. Preferably someone I'd like. Duh.)
3. Spacing out
4. Time-travelling to the past
5. Just chatting and emailing

5 things you would not wear again

1. My Confirmation Day attire (I'll only keep the blouse)
2. Thomas the Tank Engine apronny thingie
3. My dad's trenchcoat
4. Hairclips
5. My old kiddy watches

5 favourite toys

1. Computer
2. Imaaaagination
3. Bookies...
4. Anything with Friends
5. Hector the cello along with No-names the rest of my instruments
(Hector was one of the two new cellos the school bought. Flora and I just had our Literature in English lesson plus we have the revered yellow name tag. We discussed Greek history. Go figure. The other one's Achilles. Flora's cello is Cassandra because no one wants to listen to it.)

Interviews

2006-02-17T03:53:00.000-08:00

Today there was an interview session for the different departments. I must've laughed my head off after each interviewee! Ho ho ho... I asked them questions in English and they have to reply me in a different language! Loosely translated:

Interview 1 with very tense yet determined guy

Me: So, have you ever thought of furthering your studies elsewhere?
Guy: Yes.
Me: Ah good. Have you heard of the University of Oxford?
Guy: Yes.
Me: And the University of Cambridge?
Guy: Yes.
Me: Very good! Now, let's say you had to pick between the two. Which one would you choose?
Guy: (Thinks for like a minute) But I don't know anything about them!
Me: Doesn't matter. Just choose!
Guy: (starts to get seriously nervous) I really can't choose! I haven't researched these universities!
(After a huge amount of prodding and poking)
Guy: I guess Oxford then.
Me: Okay! So now, imagine I'm your friend and I'm stuck between these two choices. Convince me to go to Oxford.
Guy: (looks like he's about to have a heart attack, eyes bulging etc etc) How am I supposed to persuade you? I don't even know anything about Oxford!
Me: Ah well, the whole point is to be resourceful and good at improvising isn't it?
Guy: Well... Yes.
Me: Go on then.
Guy: (takes a deep breath) Oxford has better facilities than Cambridge. The professors at Oxford are better. Oxford has better accommodation. Oxford is very disciplined. Oxford is... (and so on and so forth)
(he looks so flustered I actually begin to feel guilty)
Me: Okay then. I think that's about it. Bye bye then. We'll get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks.

***
I was beginning to think maybe that was a bit too hard so I asked another friend to answer same question out of the blue.

Me: Hey, Oxford or Cambridge?
Friend: Cambridge...
Me: Why?
Friend: Oxford has an ox.
Me: So?
Friend: Cambridge has a bridge.
Me: So?
Friend: I don't want an ox. Cambridge has the bridge to success!
Me: Darn, that's good.

But she admitted later that she wouldn't have thought of that if she was feeling nervous.

This is definitely going to come back to me one day. I think I'll probably spend the rest of my life being tortured during interviews!

P/S: Miss Darell you better update or else!

Spacing Out

2006-02-16T01:33:00.000-08:00

English class was as bad as usual today. The teacher made more mistakes than usual and went, 'Whatever!' (again) when corrected. He didn't even correct his mistake so it stood out on the blackboard like a sore thumb.

I don't think anyone was particularly paying attention for that matter so I complained and rolled my eyes and ranted... pretty much all the things I do in English class. It was so annoying I was in an unusally energetic mood this morning despite only about 5 hours of sleep whereas I almost fell asleep during an important Mandarin class yesterday.

The outside seemed so inviting. There were butterflies (or moths) playing just above the grass, their yellow coloured wings so striking yet they matched the grass so well.

Then Mel said, 'Haha, you're spacing out!!'

I snapped back for a while then with sudden realisation. Yeah, I was spacing out! It was so fun, delving into old memories, just exploring my mind, ignoring the lethal glares from my English teacher. I tried and tried again to play everything in my mind back again but for some reason even though I can't see it, it's in my mind crystal clear, with all the details.

And so I continued daydreaming with a rather sheepish look on my face. I must have looked pretty retarded.

In Dreams

2006-02-11T06:44:00.000-08:00

It was dark, and he felt strangely disorientated. It was a while before he found it, the little gleaming balloon that shrunk away from his touch. But he entered anyway, gently, careful not to break it. It wasn't the first time.

He had to shield his eyes from the blinding light and stumbled around before he found what he was looking for. There she lay, sleeping, so peaceful, so serene. Strange. Dreaming of dreaming. He knelt down by her side for a while and admired her, the reflection of her soul. Softly, he whispered in her ear, "Happy birthday, my friend." And then he left, leaving everything as it was.

Someplace else, somewhere far away, she woke up with a big smile on her face for no apparent reason. There was a number of birthday greetings, but nothing compared to the one that still rang in her ears and repeated in her mind.

Happy birthday, to a good friend, who has made a difference.

Drunk On Books

2006-02-10T06:28:00.000-08:00

I'm falling into another book-frenzy, reading and re-reading books, feeling the old tingly sense of excitement rush back when I read those old favourites. I feel like how Matilda (Roald Dahl) feels. Transported into another place, being someone esle... More often than not, I wish the story would never stop, or that I could be a part of that book if just for a while.

Usually I don't post about the books I recommend on the sidebar, but I will now. The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger is unbeatably the best ever romance novel I have ever read. I don't really have a penchant for romance novels, I didn't even like A Walk To Remember, which I found quite predictable and cheesy. I can't understand why my friends are crying buckets over it. Now, The Time Traveler's Wife, that is a good book. The whole idea is so new, so unpredictable, you just want to go on and on. I would have cried, if I could, but I was holding my breath all the way and it is quite impossible to cry when you are holding your breath.

A few other must-reads are Sabriel, Lirael and Abhorsen. The Old Kingdom Series by Garth Nix, Again, an entirely fresh and new concept which is hard to do since most fantasy books are similar. I can't quite explain why it is so good, but if you read it, you'll know. It's a bit confusing at first because the whole thing is almost, strange. These books are fast becoming my most-borrowed books. I'm also thinking of getting the latest books by Garth Nix. He really has improved a lot in terms of writing. I read his earlier book, The Ragwitch, but I found it quite terrible. Luckily I read The Old Kingdom Series before I read that otherwise I might never have wanted to explore Garth Nix's writing again. Oh, and while reading The Old Kingdom Series you might think that Rowling borrowed a bit from him. Then again, she might not have. It's quite subjective.

I don't know why Christopher Pike (real name Kevin McFadden) is so unknown, but he deserves all the respect and publicity he can get. The Last Vampire is probably the best thriller I've ever read. It has a total of six books, thicker than my dictionary. For him to write so much and to maintain the same level of quality all the way is amazing. Of course, I'd recommend any book written by him. His books have never let me down yet!

My next goal is to read Philip Pullman (or at least get his books), since I've heard tons about him. And if I'm good, finish off one of DH Lawrence's novels.

What People Throw

2006-02-08T22:55:00.000-08:00

He walked against the wind, irritated by the dust in his face and the sweltering heat. The cars that whizzed by non-stop did not help, in fact, quite the contrary. His face was so dark as a result of hard work and sun that it was impossible to tell what race he was of.

The schoolgirls at the bus stop stared at him as he approached but it didn't bother him anymore. Perhaps it was his plastic bag full of aluminium cans that did it, or his appearance, or both. It was pretty uncommon for someone to wear long sleeves in that kind of weather.

He picked up all the stray cans on the ground. There were quite a number, a good haul. There were always many near schools. Kids love sugar. He eyed the rubbish bin almost eagerly, and dug into it, pulling out can after can. Some half-full, some with straws stuck in them, most of them sticky. It didn't matter, it was like gold to him. He needed it, his family needed it.

He mused to himself when his plastic bag was bulging full. What do people throw? One man's rubbish is another man's gold, he supposed.

Strangely Addictive

2006-02-05T22:43:00.000-08:00

I just got the Sims 2 game. It's strangely addictive! I can't stop playing it; it'll be a while before I overcome this disgusting addiction.

It's funny how this game appeals to different sorts of people. When people came to visit I let this boy, a year or two younger than me try it out on my PS2. He said it was stupidly childish so I let him play Need For Speed instead. The PC one is much better than the PS2 version though.

Needless to say, the Sims 2 will be to blame for an apparent lack of posts in coming days.

Pointless

2006-02-02T20:47:00.000-08:00

On her right, a lady with a red Hard Rock Cafe baby tee. On her left, a lady in a floral print blouse. Jane Austen rested on her lap as she tried to make small talk. She had long discovered that the most popular topic amongst strangers who were obliged to speak to each other is Education with a capital E, and the least popular topic, never touched on before, is books. Book-based movies, but not books.

Soon another two more ladies entered, the brief chatter and yakking of the men very audible when she opened the sliding door. One of them in a sleeveless qipao, the other in shapeless pink attire. Chinese New Year visit, it was assumed to be. They joined the small talk, often lapsing into silence when they ran out of things to jibber about. Silence that was like a thin layer of ice, cold and unfriendly, only to be broken as abruptly as it was formed when someone thought of another topic to discuss. It was quite grotesque in a way, how some of the ladies tried in vain to disguise and prevent their old age from showing. She could see the skin tightly drawn over a frail frame, the impossibly flawless hair, the amount of make-up used that was enough to form a mask. A mask that grew thicker and thicker till you could see no more what was underneath.

Silais of the highest degree. Jane Austen pleaded silently to be read.

More came, one in totally red attire, another stylishly elegant, and another who spoke better English than the rest. They tried to bring up a topic that would spark mutual interest but failed. How can you force friendship, in a group of strangers who would rather be someplace else?

Day dreams. My saviour during unwanted social situations. She began to dream, eyes and thoughts in places they could not reach, thinking of material for her next blog post.

King's Quest

2006-02-01T00:39:00.000-08:00

After playing some of the games on Albino Black Sheep, I found myself longing for the good old Sierra Quest games. You know, King's Quest, Space Quest, the like. I played those years and years ago, yet they were so good I never forgot them. So I did what anyone would do today, a Google search.

I found this site, Anonymous Game Developers Interactive which is devoted to bringing back those adventure games into style! They've even re-created a couple of the old King's Quest games! It gets even better! The games are available for download, for no fee at all. Now that's what I call quality.It's so hard to find these days.

If you're in need of a good game, download them. I'm only half-way through because the download speed is really slow. I haven't actually tried them out but judging by the guestbook, I think it should be alright. A blast into the past!

P/S: If that doesn't work, there are many old Sierra games, the original ones, for download here.

I have to stop

2006-01-27T23:11:00.000-08:00

"I have to stop," Justine Henin-Hardenne told the umpire after trying and failing to play tennis properly due to an upset stomach. Because she retired from the finals, Amelie Mauresmo won by default. Not exactly the best way to win; you could see from Mauresmo's face. Henin-Hardenne sat down with a towel over her head and wept while Mauresmo flashed her tanned, glistening, shaved armpits to the crowd as a sign of victory. Her first Grand Slam title in 7 years.

I am not a true fan of tennis, but I took the time to watch a bit of Australian Open today. The Women's Finals was something; Henin-Hardenne versus Mauresmo, bound to be exciting. It would have been, had it not been for the fact that the former was forced to quit. Watching the tears stream down her blotchy red face, it was hard not to feel her sadness. All because of an upset stomach! It just reminds everyone of how frail the human body can seem at times. I will never forget this match, nor her words. I have to stop.

The bright side about it was the sportswomanship that Mauresmo showed, I suppose. She immediately went over to console Henin-Hardenne after the aforementioned armpit flashing. Mauresmo, manly looking, consoling Henin-Hardenne, perfectly ladylike. Constrasting, but it is always nice to see some sportswomanship especially where it is needed most. It's still unreal, having to quit a Grand Slam Final because of an upset stomach. It must have hurt that bad.

The presentation ceremony must've been torture for Henin-Hardenne though. It was quite obvious how much effort she put in just to keep the tears from spilling out again. Her speech was direct, about her disappointment. She didn't forget to thank Mauresmo and apologise to her fans, although I don't think anyone could've blamed her for retiring. Mauresmo was equally graceful in her speech. I felt that perhaps she was trying to contain her happiness as to not rub it in further.

It's always good to see good sportswomanship and gracefulness.

Mandarin Oranges

2006-01-27T02:17:00.000-08:00

Chinese New Year is coming, the year of the Dog. With every Chinese New Year, comes Mandarin oranges by the crate. With seeds.

I never understood why such a lovely, sweet and juicy fruit has to have so many troublesome and oversized seeds! If those oranges had no seeds at all, I would eat them up in about 5 minutes. Perhaps that's why they have seeds, to test your determination. Of course, there is the tiny seedless kind, but still, I'd rather have the normal size seedless.

I can't wait for the big-time celebrations, the long holiday, getting the wake up late, the wonderful atmosphere and of course, the food! And also the time-consuming traffic jams which, on the bright side, will allow me to finish Romeo & Juliet in peace. Maybe even to start on the Time Traveler's Wife too!

Here's to wishing everyone who's reading this a very happy Chinese New Year! May your new year be a year of prosperity and good things to come!

P/S: Anyone care to suggest an essay topic? Just leave a comment.

My Dream Camera

2006-01-27T01:42:00.000-08:00

The Cyber-shot R1.

Ah.

Camp 5

2006-01-26T00:53:00.000-08:00

I finally got to try out the new Camp 5 rock-climbing gym! It's very, very new, and also quite pricey too. They're pretty strict about the rules as opposed to the other one I'm used to, as in they don't let those under 18 climb without a guardian's signature. That meant me; but thankfully, I bumped into Michelle so it was all fine.

Camp 5 uses ATCs instead of Figure Eight knots, which was a bit strange at first. Before, my life depended on this eight-shaped knot, and now it has been replaced by a clunky piece of metal!

I didn't go straight to the walls, did a bit of bouldering. I have never tried one of those that you can climb over and jump down before, so I discovered that I have a slight phobia of heights. I sat on the boulder for about 2 minutes before I finally closed my eyes and jumped. To think I actually considered climbing all the way back down! It makes me wonder what I'll do if my life is in jeopardy...

When I got to the walls, it surprised me at how many children were climbing as well! Children as in below 10 or around that age. Some of them were so titchy and skinny you would have thought they wouldn't have the strength to pull themselves up at all! But they did. Most of them didn't have rock-climbing shoes, probably because there isn't a size for them so they had to climb with their socks. Anyhow, they climbed with such speed and agility (albeit not following the colours), I was left regretting I didn't start earlier. Kids have some advantages in a way, when rock-climbing, because they're so hyper and light.

Most of the children had their parents belaying them. It was quite a lovely sight to behold; parents taking time out to bring their kids to the gym which is both kid-friendly, fun and healthy! There was a man next to me taking with him two of his little sons. The elder one kept refusing to climb further even though he could. I think he has a fear of heights too. However, his father would just keep on encouraging him, and not letting him down at the same time. When the little boy succeeded, he was lauded with praises of all sorts. I could tell he was very pleased.

Then there was a brother and sister both climbing too, with their parents watching. The sister was afraid to climb any further, but likewise, they were egged on, and she did reach the top! Her whole family clapped when she came down. I clapped along with them. She just looked so blissfully happy. Ah, happiness, happiness!

When I had climbed till I could barely squeeze the chalk ball, I went downstairs to check out the automatic-belaying machine thingy. There was another boulder there, for children. All the children I had seen were playing there. There was even the boy's little brother climbing over and over. Each time he reached the top he'd yell to his mother, "Hello Mamma!" and each time his mother would say hello back. He got so much satisfaction out of that.

I left Camp 5, quite determined to go back again. The last thing I saw was that of the future rock-climbing whizzes all playing together on the boulder, all of them happy.

Rock-climbing can be a family thing.

As the Sun Set

2006-01-22T03:58:00.000-08:00

Carlyn stood cross-armed in the wind, feeling it caress her flawless face, her deep brown eyes far off in a land of memories. Above her the clouds were forming patterns of every kind, so beautiful, so unreal. She admired them for a while, in the sunlight. She always thought Nature was the world's greatest artist, although it had been a while before she had went cloud watching. Always she told herself she was too busy, there was no time, overlooking all the important things that seemed so little. She now knew what a lame excuse that was, and oh, how she regretted it.

It was such a beautiful day she couldn't believe it was all going to end so soon. Ironically, it was the day the world would end.

The media had been buzzing about it for ages. The meteor had been sighted long ago. Efforts had been taken, and those efforts had failed. It wasn't a hoax. Prominent politicians and rich tycoons were all loading up their spaceships, preparing to blast off into spac, to the space station, to extend their lives for perhaps a year, before they perished like the rest of them. She always thought they were a load of rubbish, although some did stay back to do what they could, which didn't amount to much. And today was the day.

Most people chose to be together with their families, to have a wonderful meal for the last time. It was murder, trying to get enough food from the stores. Some people seemed to think they might survive the meteor and rebuild their lives after that. Some just wanted to eat all they could before they died. There were also many flooding churches, mosques, synagogues, temples, praying to their Gods that somehow, just somehow, they would not have to die today. Carlyn did not care much for these things. She did not have a family, she did not have religion, and she did not like the idea of fattening herself up before the inevitable happened.

Carlyn walked barefoot towards the lake, feeling the soft green grass and warm earth beneath her feet, wanting to make that feeling permanent. The lake shimmered underneath the sun, its water rippling gently in the wind. She was glad no one else was there. It wasn't as if many people knew about the place anyway. People tend to care more about their jobs and money.

It was then she realised how hypocritical she was. All this while, what had she done that was worth the effort? Did she take the time to reply the emails and letters from friends properly? Did she bother to call her friends on their birthdays? Did she even remember their birthdays? Whatever time she had, it was spent on her job, on herself. She wished she had been more aware of the clock ticking towards the end.

She thought about Louise, her childhood friend from school. Dear Louise, with her simple dress hanging over her thin frame, always carrying her blue bunny toy. They loved tickling each other to death, or just gibbering away to themselves. Then one day Louise left so abruptly, once she even wondered whether Louise had been her imagination or not. When she found other friends, Louise was lost, until now. In fact, now that she thought about it, she never had any true friends after Louise left. There was Karmen, one of the few real friends she had. The summers she had with Karmen, swimming in the lake, watching the clouds, that was bliss. Then Karmen had to leave her, like her parents did. Right in this very lake too. She hadn't felt anything, no sadness, no despair. There was so much death in her life she was immune to it. She had shed a tear for her parents, Karmen, but that was it. She just went on with her life, and she was proud of it. Proud of living under a mask.

Now she found tears streaming down her face, for all that she had lost, for all that she missed. The tears turned into huge sobs, and she clutched her knees shuddering for all the sorrow that overwhelmed her. She wiped away the tears that blurred her vision with the back of her hand. Yet, despite her sadness, the world still seemed beautiful. There was a huge hole in her heart; it took a giant meteor and impending doom to make her see it.

The sun was beginning to set, casting a strange orange-red glow over the grass and trees. The wind stopped blowing, and the grass stood still. She wondered whether they knew what was going to happen.

She sniffed somewhat embrassingly, glad no one was there to witness her rare burst of emotion. Slowly, she stood up and wiped her feet on the grass. She would enjoy the world, one last time, enjoy what it always had to offer her.

Carlyn stared at the blood-red sun, entranced by its vivid colour and brilliance. Then she stripped slowly, letting her clothes drop to the grass as though they were nothing but remnants of the past, until she was naked. Surprisingly, she hardly felt the sudden chill, and even liked the feeling of air on her bare skin. As she waded into the lake, she smiled and felt happy for the first time in many years. Karmen would have loved to skinny dip.

The water brought goosebumps to her skin, made her aware of her surroundings. She imagined Louise by her side, bunny in hand, ready to tickle her once more, and she, ready to tickle back. Carlyn shook her head and took one last look at the sky, the plants, her beloved lake of memories. As the sun set, she took one deep breath and dove into the lake with the skill of a dolphin, swimming with all those she had lost and loved, losing herself in the intensity of the emotions and memories she had kept hidden from herself for years.

For she knew, when she rose from the lake one last time, her light, like those of Karmen and her parents, would go out, along with the rest of the world she had never taken the time to know.

Wuz, Was

2006-01-21T06:34:00.000-08:00

I never could quite understand why some people like to type 'wuz' instead of 'was'. If you think about it, both of them have the same number of letters. In fact, typing 'was' has more advantages. For one, the letters on the keyboard are bunched up together whereas if you type 'wuz' you'll have stretch right to the 'z' with your pinky. Plus, 'was' is the correct spelling. How about 'craziee' instead of 'crazy'? 'Craziee' has more letters, in fact.

I can totally understand 'u' instead of 'you'. Less letters. The same goes with 'r' instead of 'are', and so on and so forth.

According to one explosive source, this is to hide their lack of spelling abilities.

On the other hand, I'm thinking it's a psychologically explainable.

What say you?

What Else Is There?

2006-01-20T02:31:00.000-08:00

For Bang-Bang! Only she will truly understand this.

Yi Peng rolled her eyes cynically and sighed. She was at one of the major crossroads in life. How she wished that making a decision would be as easy as picking between Coca-Cola and Zappel. This decision was more like picking between Smallville and Desperate Housewives, only harder. Yi Peng was a television freak and she knew it. What she didn't know was what course she should pick to further her studies in.

She eyed her sister's old transcripts and acceptance letters, flipped through them vaguely. And then her brothers. Ah, sibling pressure. How could you not have that when your sister's studied in the London School of Economics, and you have a brother in Cambridge? Likewise, she was applying to enter similar universities. Only she still didn't know what course to apply for. Heck, she didn't even know whether she wanted to study the Sciences or Humanities. Where was her excellent genetics now?

Her default choice was Economics. At least she'd gotten that settled, if she really couldn't find something she truly connected with. But why study Economics when you already have a brother and sister doing that? That would just make her a shining star among brighter stars. No, there must be something else.

For the millionth time she browsed through a list of different courses. Engineering... Biochemistry... Dentistry. She felt a bit tingly. No, she wouldn't study the Sciences. It didn't feel right. How come she hadn't realised that before? She was no Science student. Bewildered at her sudden decisivesness, she turned to look at the other courses. Law... Linguistics. Wait, linguistics.

She paused for a moment. Linguistics. It called to her like a voice centuries past, like a lamp post that had gone out and flickered back to life. Where had she heard about it before? Then it came rushing back.

'Bang-Bang, you should study Linguistics,' the words Elaine had told her came trickling back, faintly.

'Stop calling me Bang-Bang! Anyhoo, how can you be so sure?' Yi Peng loved a debate.

'When have I been wrong? You are meant for Linguistics! I can see it. The road before you is so clear. Anyway, what else is there? You're definitely not going to do science.'

Yi Peng couldn't believe her at that time. It seemed so outrageous, so unfamiliar. Yet Elaine had seemed so serious. Was it true that Elaine could see what she was meant to be?

She closed her eyes and swam in a sea of memories, both old and new. Perhaps they would give her a glimpse of the future, and what is to be. Perhaps a clue about herself.

She sighed for the second time that day. Elaine was right about the Science part. Maybe she was right about Linguistics too.

Yi Peng picked up a pen and wrote in big bold letters, 'Linguistics'. Yes, she would pursue that course, it felt... right. After all, what else is there?

V. K. Wellington Koo

2006-01-17T23:39:00.000-08:00

When I was in Jiading visiting the Fahua Pagoda, I dropped by the Jiading County Museum. It was quite an interesting little museum which I finished browsing in about half an hour. Then I spotted the Wellington Koo museum. It was also very tiny, just one floor and a few rooms but well-lit and tidy. There was no one else there. I admit, I went, 'What? Who the heck is Wellington Koo?'

As I read through the short biography there and went through all his memorabilia, I grew more and more impressed with this guy. His full name is Vi Kyuin Wellington Koo, which I found quite strange because I always thought the Chinese used direct hanyupinyin for their names. He was born in Jiading, Shanghai but later left for the US to study, at Columbia University! Because of that, he spoke fluent English. He was born in 1887 and received his PhD at Columbia in 1912. Do the math: He had a PhD at the age of about 25! Three years later he was made Chinese minister to the US.

He had all these awards and medals, even from the Queen of England, impressive stuff. According to Wikipedia, he was also very headstrong, refusing to sign the Treaty of Versailles when the Western powers would not stop their imperialist institutions. He was also one of the founding members of the United Nations, and according to the information in the museum, he was the first to sign the UN Charter! At that point, I was wondering how come I've never heard of this person before and why isn't he in my history textbook. They left out such an important historical figure!

Another thing I never knew is that he was also acting president of China during the period of chaos from 1926-1927 in Beijing. He passed away at the age of 98, unable to visit his hometown one more time due to health reasons. (according to the museum, at least)

Get this: There's even a book about him!

He looked quite good when he was young. He also maintained his cultural traditions, in other words, strongly Chinese yet Western educated. I quite liked his calligraphy.

I'm still quite impressed.

Taking the Bus

2006-01-17T02:12:00.000-08:00

Today, I proudly wore the tag "commuter". Yes, I took the bus (almost) back home for the very first time! The farthest I've gone is only from school to the mall (while waiting for football to start). That's about it. So you can imagine why I was so excited at first, although regular commuters would be thinking I've lost my mind (which I have).

It seemed almost like an adventure. Joyfully skipping to the bus stop with my bus-partner, going to see how to whole public transport system works. As I walked past the highway, I realised quite stupidly how fast vehicles are compared to me. Especially when I'm going in the opposite direction and my nose is filled with exhaust fumes. The skipping stopped almost abruptly. Skin irritation, nose irritation, eye irritation, brain irritation... I fully feel for the poor plants by the road, having to endure that everyday.

Many people were at the bus stop too. Ah, joy! Everyone's taking the bus and saving petrol. Joy that was short-lived! I waited and waited for bus 13 and did it come? Yeah, after one whole hour! By then I was huffing and puffing due to extreme pollution (seriously!) and my face was probably all black. Thank goodness the bus was air-conditioned...

It took about another 40 minutes to reach my destination. My ride wasn't there yet so I walked across the road and treated myself to an iced chocolate from Starbucks. By the way, I haven't had an iced chocolate from Starbucks for about 5 years! Always ended up in Coffee Bean where the chocolate drinks are crappy. Drink Starbucks iced chocolate! I could so relate to Matt's post when I inhaled those coffee-cream-machiney-smells in Starbucks. It was almost like a drug even though I'm no coffee drinker.

As I sipped my iced chocolate I did a bit of mental arithmetic. If I hitched a ride home straight from school (by car of course), it would have only taken me about half an hour. As compared to taking the bus:

Waiting for bus: 1 hour
Numerous stops along the way: 30 + 10 minutes
Total: (Plus waiting for ride at second bus stop) About 2 hours
Time wasted: 2 hours - 30 minutes= 1 and a half hours

Bus-ride:
Ups: Air-conditioning! Secretly reading the girl next to me's newspaper! Saved petrol!
Downs: The bus is so not punctual! Extreme pollution! Time wasted!

I think I'd rather hitch a ride from now on. No longer do I envy the commuters!

If Only

2006-01-14T21:17:00.000-08:00

To love and lost is better than to never have loved at all. To have used a DSLR and liked it, is that better than to never have used one at all? I suppose. Only I found myself wishing about a million times today, if only I had a DSLR.

If only I had a DSLR, I could try to take a picture of the tender reddish leaves against the blue blue sky with the veins showing.

If only I had a DSLR, I could try to take a shot of the spider web I saw this morning, which was the biggest and most perfect one I'd ever seen.

If only I had a DSLR, I could try to take a shot of every lovely flower I saw, to freeze them in their full glory, to keep for memories afters.

If only I had a DSLR, I could try to take a picture of every little thing I see, both flawed and flawless.

If only I had a DSLR, I wouldn't be so bored this morning!

If onlies are cruel. Until then I'll just be satisfied with my point & shoot camera.

Don't you see the sky so blue,
Silent, beautiful;
Letting my jumbled mind
Roar on with the thoughts of nothingness.

Of all the things I've lost, I miss my mind the most.

Tipping Ways

2006-01-14T05:54:00.000-08:00

The old man bustled around the place, looking busy, feeling busy. Around him customers were calling out orders. Clean this. Change that. Come here. Go there. It never seemed to stop, yet he never regretted taking up the job at such an age. He always thought regret is the most useless of all emotions, and he still did.

At first glance, people might have thought his attire rather strange. Baggy, oversized shorts, a simple collared shirt and a pair of worn-out rubber sneakers. Hardly the proper attire for men of his age! Men his age weren't even supposed to be working. They were supposed to sit at home, daydreaming the rest of their remaining days away. He shook that thought away angrily. He was doing what was best, and he knew it. A person who dresses to please others is an idiot. A person who dresses to suit the conditions is intelligent. But it was always intelligent to be neat.

The restaurant he waited at was a seafood restaurant. It paid okay, but only just enough. He supposed they paid a little bit extra for you to suffer looking people stuff their faces while your insides writhed with hunger.

A family came in, he took their orders. He felt a sense of pride, completing each task. His body wasn't functioning like it used to. His hands shook when he took the dishes to the back. His feet shuffled, instead of taking brisk steps. An old man's problem. But the harder it is to do something, the better you feel about it afterwards.

Another order. Pack this up, he was told. He liked it especially when people asked him to pack up the extra food. It was better than just throwing them away, when there're so many people going without food. He felt happy doing such a job.

"Yes," he said, smiling, "better than having to waste it." He enjoyed having a bit of conversation. Especially with such customers.

"True... True." he was met with an odd look. A look of surprise mixed with something else, he could not tell.

He went to get the bill. The restaurant wasn't posh or anything but he took it straight to the customer anyway. It was just a piece of printed paper with scribbles on it.

The customer wrinkled up his forehead a bit. Then he paid up. The old man counted the money; he could still do that quite deftly.

"There's extra... extra..." he mumbled. This happened sometimes.

"Nevermind. Take it."

He stared at the 10 dollar bill incredulously, eyes widening slightly. Then he regained his composure.

"Extra... extra..." he muttered quite helplessly. The customer turned to leave.

"Thank you."

The customer smiled and was out in a moment. And the old man resumed his duties as proudly as ever, glad to know that at least one person appreciated him.

Into The Light

2006-01-12T00:24:00.000-08:00

Mel Box relaxed on her bed as she watched the news, CNN, as always. She smiled when she saw the hunky news reporter; it brought back many memories of boy-chasing and boys-chasing-her.

"Melanie Box, also known as the woman with the golden heart, celebrates her 38th birthday today. Already her charitable cause, dubbed 'Into The Light' has reached out to millions worldwide. With over 100,000 volunteers of different races and nationalities working under her cause to fight poverty and AIDS in several countries worldwide, she is seen to be one of the most influential people of our time..."

It seemed only yesterday that she had promised her friend Buddy she'd grow up to be a doctor and help the poverty-stricken in Africa. In fact, she even wanted to do research to find a cure for AIDS, albeit expressing the possibility that she might succumb to human weaknesses and not achieve her goal. But she had done it. After over 20 years of hard work she done it. No doubt it was tough work even managing to avoid starving to death, but at least she had brought some light into the lives of those living in poverty. The rewards were little, but they were meaningful and had kept her going all these years.

It was the smile on the faces of those she had cured, free of charge. The cheerful bubble of the stream where she played with the little children. The smell of the sweet mandarin oranges the Chinese children used to give her, after saving up all the money they could. Little children like Shaleesa.

Ah, Shaleesa. How she wished Shaleesa was by her side now, the memories were all coming back in a rush again. Shaleesa was one of the first few children she had met on her first trip to Africa, in Rwanda. She was a member of the Tutsi tribe, and was quite a precocious little child. Melanie herself had taught Shaleesa about the subtleties of the English language, the wonders of it all. It wasn't hard; Shaleesa was a good student. She was like a daughter to Melanie, she was like her Dawn, her Aurora. In every way, beautiful. It came as no surprise when Shaleesa decided to follow in Melanie's footsteps to become a doctor. She won a scholarship, and Melanie paid the rest.

Dreaming away again, Melanie thought to herself, amused. At least it means I still have a soul! Shaleesa once told her that people who dream have souls. The more colourful your dreams the better your soul. Those who did not dream had no souls, Shaleesa had told her quite gravely. Melanie was suddenly aware of the sudden chill enveloping her feet and pulled her blanket over more tightly to keep the cold away.

"Hundreds, maybe even thousands of Christians are holding vigils for Box, who is a devout Catholic herself, upon hearing that her situation is now critical. Box has been battling cancer for almost 2 years, but rumour has it that her condition has deteriotated rapidly within the past few days."

Mel Box was even more amused. CNN didn't know that she had been refusing all treatment and company or else the public would have had gone wild at her apparent stupidity. But she had her own reasons. Strange, it was not even painful now. She could dream as much as she liked.

With one shivering finger she shut the hunky news reporter up and lay down, thinking about her life. It had been good, she had done all she had wanted to do. She might have even made a difference in the world. One thing nagged at her.

A pity Shaleesa isn't here.

Melanie sighed. It was time to go. She closed her eyes, and let go, flying through the brilliant colours, flying into the light.

Moments later, Shaleesa burst through the door and flung her arms over Melanie. Even with a PhD in Medicine she knew it was too late. At times, all anyone can do, even for doctors, is to weep. And she did weep, right next to the empty shell of her best beloved.

An Acrostic Poem

2006-01-12T00:01:00.000-08:00

Today, I wrote a couple of acrostic poems during English class while the teacher was strutting around doing nothing as usual. One of them was for Mel Box, who suggested the title "Into the Light" for my next essay which I will write very soon. The first letter of every syllable, word, verse or paragraph in acrostic poems spells out a different message altogether.

Mine went like this, and I am only putting it up here because I rather like it.

May you always be,
Evermore, your beautiful self.
Languished not, by the waves of time,
And your golden heart;
Never tainted by the hearts of others.
In dreams or whither you may be, you will remain
Evermore, Melanie.

I quite like acrostic poems.

Word Power!

2006-01-09T06:22:00.000-08:00

If you're feeling bored and you want to test your word power, click here!

It's by Readers' Digest, sort of like the one in the magazine, just interactive. Plus you can play it over and over again!

Yay.

Blog Update

2006-01-08T06:04:00.000-08:00

Day 11 of the China trip is now up.

Only one more day to go!!

Sisters

2006-01-07T06:43:00.000-08:00

Dedicated to Ka and Miss Darell, both great writers, geniuses, and friends.

Ka stood and stared out into the barren emptiness of the desertland. It flooded back to her, memories of her sister, a dusty photograph taken with her here, it seemed like such a long time ago. Ka held the photograph in her hand as she looked at it for the millionth time. To others, it was nothing out of the ordinary. Just a simple photograph of two sisters. But to her, it meant much more. The emotions pouring out from the picture was so strong, her sister hugging her from behind, against a background of barren wasteland. The rich river of love pouring out where water could not; breaking through all barriers. Her sister, Lyn.

Ka had always been Lyn's littlest sister. Why littlest, she did not know yet, at that time. There was only her, and Lyn. Lyn was 8 years older than she was, a genius of sorts, almost finishing her stint in Cambridge. Ka was always the sportier one, although she had her fair share of brains. Their parents were dead, according to Lyn, but they left the sisters wealthy. Enough for them to live a life of luxury. The age gap, the distance, the circumstances seemed determined to bring them apart, but for some reason, they always remained as close as they ever could be. That was before Lyn went away.

That spot of the desert had always been Lyn's favourite for some reason. During the holidays, she would never fail to take Ka to that spot. "This," she would tell Ka, "is a magic spot. Never forget that." Ka thought that strange, but she never forgot it anyway. Lyn had always been a bit on the strange side. The first time they went there, they took a photo together. Only one, during their first trip there. Ka was 13, Lyn was 21. Lyn blew the photo up for Ka and told her to keep it. And she did, always. They went there every year, until Ka was 18.

Like her sister, Ka secured a place in Cambridge. She never wanted to study anywhere else. Her sister had been there; it only seemed right that she went too. It wasn't too hard; she just had to use her brains. Sometimes she felt that if she and Lyn actually worked at it, they could accomplish anything. Studies seemed easy when she put her mind to it. That was why she preferred sports. It was something she truly had to work for. She had a talent for both, that was true, but she always found sports more challenging. Lyn never missed any of her games even when she left Cambridge and became a freelance writer. And Ka never lost. Sometimes she felt that Lyn was her special good luck charm. They were, in every way, living life to the fullest, except they had no other friends but each other.

Then Lyn took Ka to her favourite spot for the last time. Perhaps Ka had sensed something amiss, but she brushed it aside. She always looked forward to the annual outing here with Lyn. They'd bring the photo along with them, camp out there and talk about everything under the sun. This time, Lyn didn't want to camp. Ka knew she had something special up her sleeve.

As they hiked to the place, Lyn starting acting strange.

"Haven't you ever felt we were different, Ka?"

Ka found that unusual.

"Yeah, you were always the genius!" she joked, laughing, trying to laugh the strange feeling away.

"You know there's something else."

Lyn sensed Ka's nervousness. Ka could never hide her emotions. Lyn went on.

"You know that we're better than everyone else, in every way. You know we aren't like everyone else."

"Plain genetics." Ka replied, again trying to shake it off with a laugh.

They were quiet all the way until the reached the place. They sat down there, cross-legged, admiring the swirling dust around them, the heat on their faces. It didn't bother them one bit. For some reason, each year, the weather had been the same, as if it had been waiting for them.

And then Lyn spoke up again.

"Ka, you can't hide from it any longer. We're not from around here. You know it, deep down."

When Ka didn't reply, she continued.

"We're not human. We're more than that... No, less. More or less. It doesn't matter. We don't belong here. You have known that for quite some time already. Face it, Ka." And she added more gently. "Face it."

"Don't be mad, Lyn," Ka's voice wavered. "It's the heat. It's getting to you... It's..." but she never finished. She knew it in her heart.

"We have to go, we have to join the rest of them. Our sisters. It is inevitable."

"There isn't anyone else but you and me. That will never change."

Lyn sensed her distress. "No, it wouldn't. You will still be my littlest sister. But we have to go. We can't linger here forever. You know it."

Then Lyn stared at the ground. The dust swirled around more and more furiously, the wind playing with it like a toy. She stepped into it, and was gone.

Ka jumped up, a whirlwind of emotions brewing through her, unable to comprehend what had happened. She grasped at the thin air, wanting so very much to feel the soft skin of her sister, but all she got was dust. She scrabbled at the place her sister had disappeared on, wanting to follow her, to join her, but she got nothing but bloodied hands. She couldn't believe it, she wouldn't. Her mind was bursting with thoughts. As most of us do when things get simply too much to bear, she sat down and wept. Her sister was gone.

For a moment she thought she had imagined it all. She made herself believe she had imagined it all. Her sister was somewhere, she had to find her. Something clicked in her mind. She sat down there, staring at the accursed place, until night had fell, and she left.

There was no one she could share her sorrow with. In a way, her sister was right. She didn't fit in with anyone. But that didn't matter to Ka, all she wanted was her sister and she would travel the globe to find her. One part of her said her sister was somewhere on the Earth, another said whispered frenzied thoughts and insane ideas.

She drained all resources trying look for her sister. She went to all of Lyn's favourite places. She went further and further, every place bringing new hope of finding Lyn. No matter how well she planned everything, she always felt lost. Lost without Lyn. The place called to her everyday, whispered to her in her dreams, accompanied her everywhere. She spent her fortune travelling everywhere and hiring private detectives. Both to find Lyn, and peace of mind. There were many red herrings, many false finds, but no Lyn.

Finally she listened to the place's calling, and she went back, with a purpose.

And there she stood. Exactly one year later, but without Lyn.

She watched the dust draw patterns on the ground, ever-changing, always a new pattern. She saw the insects scuttling through the grains, oblivious to the heat. The place where Lyn had disappeared a year ago stood out like a sore spot. It scared and enticed her at the same time...

She fingered the photo, and then she remembered. Everything she and Lyn had done their whole lives... and more. All her fears melted away. She stepped on the very same place Lyn had stood, and called to the wind. The wind covered her, surrounded her... And in the tinkling of an eye... She was gone.

The place quietened for a while, and then came to life again with the wind bringing the sound of two sisters laughing together once more, with such joy that will echo through the ages.

Blog Update

2006-01-06T23:42:00.000-08:00

I have just added Day 9 of my trip. Scroll down to enjoy! Sorry I put it on hold for a while.

*** Day 10 has just been added.

Of Thoughts

2006-01-06T18:26:00.000-08:00

Why am I writing this at 2 am in the morning, on New Year's Day? Simply because of Miss Darell, aspiring doctor and semi-genius. Miss Darell says I am 'bursting with strong emotions' and I should blog about it rightaway. She's probably right, as usual.

We were discussing the sweeper (mentioned in the China post), when suddenly I was thrust back into memories I did not want to remember, of the unfortunate people I met in China.

I did not mention the diseased beggars, perhaps subconsciously I forgot because I wanted to. Now I will write about it. I saw many beggars in China. Some of them just beg because they are too lazy to do anything else, and others really are incapable of working.

They are mostly around temples, tourist attractions, places like that, where they hope tourists will show them pity. I cannot ever forget the lady beggar I saw, with the huge tumour growing below her left cheek. It was so big, the size of a very large mango, jutting out. She used a cloth-bag to cover it up. Sitting there, in the unforgiving cold, without a proper, thick winter coat.

The lady beggar with the tumour was among other beggars sitting on the roadside, near the temple's exit. The diseases seemed to progress from bad to worse. A missing limb; distorted features; even boneless legs, reduced to flab. The lady was at the end of it. As I passed each one, my heart almost died. I almost cried seeing them all like this, but I didn't even though I already was inside. I asked someone else to give money to them because I couldn't stand it! I never was able to see anyone suffer without suffering myself. Each time someone bent down to give the lady money, she would say thanks. Even when I was standing some 10 meters away, I could still hear it clearly. How do you even open your jaw with a tumour that size? I did a most shameful thing and returned to the coach quickly, after I'd made sure the money was given so that I would not see it anymore.

In fact, I must admit, I walked past them, trying my absolute best not to look at them because if I did I would simply cry. Now I know how stupid I was. If I ever got to go back I'd sit down and talk to them properly, like a normal person would, especially with the lady. It would be quite correct to say I was simply trying to hide from it all...

Then I saw more. I saw an old lady walking with many bags in hand, stopping at every garbage bin, rummaging for things she could sell to make a living. She was not embarassed, she did not hesitate for she was beyond that. All she wanted to do was to make a living, and not reduce herself to plain begging because she was still perfectly healthy, in her opinion. I estimate her age to be past 60. This contrasted heavily with the other woman I saw in Suzhou.

The Suzhou woman purposefully walked towards us when she saw the coach, dragging a trolley with a dirty, worn mattress on it. On the mattress lay, I think, her son. The freezing cold bit my cheeks, but the sight of the boy writhing in agony, fingers wanting to clench but unable to, as a result of some sort of disease, cut my heart. Not only because he was suffering because of something out of his hands, but because his mother, perfectly well, perhaps only 50, was using him to beg. To get 'easy money'. I thought to myself, why didn't she get a job, anywhere, as anything, even as a bag lady, so that she could get her son a proper mattress and proper clothing? Why did she put her son to such agony, in the unforgiving wind just to get a dollar or two? I found it hard to believe any mother would do that. Either she wasn't his mother; or this was, for her, the only way to live.

I just read the latest Readers' Digest magazine not too long ago. There was an interview with Alicia Keyes. One of the questions was about her charity work. She said something about seeing kids die of HIV in Africa and how she couldn't pretend that she hadn't saw that happen as she paid a large bill for breakfast in Seychelles.

I cannot pretend either.

And that's when she put her book down. And looked at me. And said it: 'Life isn't fair, Bill. We tell our children that it is, but it's a terrible thing to do. It's not only a lie, it's a cruel lie. Life is not fair, and it never has been, and it's never going to be.' -William Goldman, "The Princess Bride"

I'm Ignorant!

2006-01-02T04:51:00.000-08:00

I asked Bang-Bang (not her real name) what she thought I should become. She said linguistics (I forgot the other one she said). I said I don't know what's linguistics. Obviously it is something to do with language, but what is it, really? Then I felt like Lucy in Narnia, when Tumnus asked her why she shook hands. Well I really don't know, do I?

So I looked it up on Wikipedia. Wikipedia is really useful by the way. And this whole sea of information popped out! Different branches of linguistics. Diachronic linguistics. Historical linguistics. Psycholinguistics. Of course I don't know that, I just copied it from Wikipedia. There's just so much. I liked this best:

"Linguistics is arguably the most hotly contested property in the academic realm. It is soaked with the blood of poets, theologians, philosophers, philologists, psychologists, biologists, and neurologists, along with whatever blood can be got out of grammarians."

But I don't think I can become a linguist. I don't speak very well and it sounds like work for a genius, or at least a semi-genius. I'm an ignoramus.

Then I clicked around linguistics, led me to linguists, scanned the list, and I found dear Tolkien! So I read his biography too.

Did you know, that his surname is anglicised from Tolkiehn, which means foolhardy in German? Or that he was brought up by a priest after his mother passed away? Or that he fell in love with his wife-to-be at 16 but the priest forbade him from corresponding with her in any way until he was 21? And he actually did that? And, get this, at 21 he telephoned his wife-to-be and proposed, and they got married! What a Casanova!

There's so many quirks about Tolkien I never knew. Who knows what quirks C. S. Lewis has? Ignorance is not bliss! I'm feeling pretty stupid now. Oh... there's so much I don't know. You're right. What are they teaching in school these days?

...and a happy new year!

2005-12-31T06:27:00.000-08:00

It's New Year's Eve, New Year's Day already in some parts of the world. It's ridiculous to think that I actually thought today is the 30th and I was wondering, annoyed, why everyone kept asking me what're my plans for New Year's Eve. Now I know I probably irritated them by being such an ignoramus.

Now what did I do?

Today I discovered the shortcomings of being vertically challenged. I spent about half an hour in an ice-cream parlour trying to get ice-cream. It was packed, since it's New Year's Eve and there're special discounts. I was lucky somebody discarded their waiting number (yes there're waiting numbers!) and managed to put my order in early. I lined up patiently after getting my ice-cream, wanting to pay. When it was my turn, I stuck out the money, only to see some huge guy looming over me like a dark cloud, making his payment first. The guy who scooped my ice-cream was shocked too and kept poking the cashier, telling her it was actually my turn. He has to confirm the order first. But the huge guy always wins.

Oh well.

I know the rest of you will be heaving sighs of relief that you will never have to go through such an experience! Anyway, whether you are sighing or not, I'd like to wish everybody,

A happy new year!

May you,

Grow wiser

Look younger

Blog more

Frown less

And keep happy!

Happy new year, once again! (I can't say it often enough)

Till next year.

Two Nose-Hairs of China

2005-12-28T20:48:00.000-08:00

I'm back, finally, after almost 2 weeks of being away. Haven't had access to Internet or a computer, which explains the lack of posts. Anyway, I'm making up for it now. I've decided to post about my holiday Warren style, with loads of pictures! I've published the title of each day below, and I will fill them up as time goes by. Hopefully, I'll manage this very quickly, but be patient, because I've over 1 GB of pictures to sort out!

At this point, you may be wondering why the heck I have named this two nose-hairs of China. China is so vast, there are so many places to visit it's almost impossible to thoroughly visit every place there. I consider where I have gone only two nose-hairs. Two is a good number don't you think? After all, happiness comes in pairs.

I'll get to work on the posts now, pray that I manage to finish it properly!

Note: Earlier readers may have noticed some posts have vanished; this is because the first two tries were screwed up and I have to do everything over again. I will now sign the pictures which are mine (so those that aren't signed aren't mine), and I will try to put everything in proper order. Please don't think, "Ah, this girl has too much time on her hands to do this! We busy people simply don't have the time."

Because that is not true. I have made the time. Hopefully I will manage to make every post as perfect as it possibly can be.

Also, I might divide days into two or more parts at times, just so that the html doesn't get mangled up when the post gets too long, especially with all the pictures.

TNC: Day 1

2005-12-28T20:47:00.000-08:00

On the 17th of December, I left for Shanghai. If you didn't bother to click on the Shanghai link, I'll just tell you that it has a population of about 22 million and is very advanced albeit quite polluted. There are many people still going around on bicycles (some electric, some not), quite unusual for a modern city.

Anyway, the flight got delayed by a whopping 3 hours. Naturally, left frustrated and bored, I took random pictures of people in the boarding place (I don't know what the official term). At least I got a free lunch that's not aeroplane food. Because it was a flight to China, there were naturally loads of Chinese people.

With hair in her eyes she reminds me of one of those ghosts in Japanese horror movies

Look who fell asleep

I also wanted to take a picture of this very unusual Chinese businessman but I think he'd have noticed.

I mentioned a free lunch. It wasn't that fun after all because there were three flights delayed at the same time (so more free lunches). And there were only a few restaurants you could eat at for free so they were obviously packed. Halfway through a burger they announced that the plane was ready for boarding so I wasted a meal and rushed off.

Luckily the aeroplane was a new one and pretty cool. The seats had a very cool control panel with all sorts of buttons.

So many buttons!!

I was having flu at that time. It's no joke I tell you, with a blocked nose, my ears felt like they were underwater all the time. I didn't know then that I just had to pinch my nose and blow very hard to clear them. It got worse when I started writing postcards (free mailing, see). So I scribbled and scribbled as my headache got worse then fell asleep.

When I woke up I had this:

Whee!

A pretty good macro shot eh? I hadn't even reached China yet and everything is already in Chinese. This is the best sort of aeroplane food. I still didn't feel very well though. The landing part was the worst: it felt like my eardrums were being dug out! As I writhed with pain with hands over my ears the air steward just told me this "sometimes happens to those who have a cold". Ha. Fat lot of help. Just advice to any of you about to take the plane with flu: don't fly or just take a sleeping pill so you sleep through the landing. Not sure whether that works though.

When I reached Shanghai it was already night time due to the delay. Oh yes, I forgot to mention I joined a tour group. My tour guide was Ken. He is Chinese. Most tour guides take a Christian name because it's easier for foreigners. It was too late for the drive around Shanghai so we went to watch an acrobatic show instead. I remember it was called Charming Shanghai or something like that. It was very cool, although pretty low-budget I think. The announcer kept saying funny stuff like, "Ladies and gentlemen, please hold onto your jaws before they drop to the floor..." with a Chinese accent. The performance was pretty amazing, but photography wasn't allowed so no pictures. Still there were loads of people snapping away even though they knew they shouldn't. I don't like that.

After that we had dinner at a strange ethnic minority restaurant. I took a picture of the plaque.

I suppose this is the name of the tribe or something

The food was okay I suppose, but because it was a tour group, service wasn't all that good. It was a new experience though.

After that, we back to the hotel. A relatively uneventful day I suppose. Day 2 will be more interesting.

TNC: Day 2: Part 1

2005-12-28T20:46:00.000-08:00

Day 2: I woke up to see this outside my hotel window:

Shanghai in the morning

It was pretty early as you can see the moon is still shining. The view isn't all that great since the hotel is no Grand Hyatt (Warren!) but I liked it all the same.
Then, I embarked on a journey to Nanjing. If you want to know more about Nanjing you will have to click on the link because I've forgotten how big is its population. Along the way I saw loads of farming areas, paddy fields, things like that. They all look strangely similar after a while.

On the road to Nanjing

They aren't that bad considering the bus was moving pretty fast. I expected them to be a little blur. Anyway, just outside of Shanghai, there're many factories, which kinda explains the pollution (apart from the exhaust fumes emitted by vehicles). See:

One of the many factories

As usual, there were toilet stops. The restrooms are very clean. I was a bit afraid after hearing many toilet-war-stories, but they have really improved. China is progressing very fast. Outside each stop there is usually a policeman. This policeman is fiddling with his handphone.

Beep beep beep

And then, we finally reached Nanjing where we had lunch at the biggest restaurant there. It looks more like a hotel actually. I tasted the local speciality: salty duck. I would have liked it better hot though. They serve it cold.

As you can see, the weather was very fine. Anyway, the interior of the restaurant looks like this:

Can you spot the Santa Clauses?

The special thing about the restaurant, apparently, are the toilets. You might be wondering why, let me tell you, there are small televisions inside each cubicle! Seriously. As proof, I have taken a picture of it. However, it's rather dark as I couldn't use flash (due to the reflection).

Unbelievable!

TNC: Day 2: Part 2

2005-12-28T20:45:00.000-08:00

After lunch we proceeded to Sun Yat Sen's Mausoleum. Along the way, I saw something pretty interesting. Two children on separate bikes with their parents were playing with each other, it was very cute. However due to China's one-child policy I'm not sure whether they're a family, or whether they know each other at all.

Happy times

Before proceeding to Sun Yat Sen's Mausoleum, we were introduced to a new tour guide, a female one by the name of Helen. Actually her Chinese name is Wang Ya but because tourists seem to find Chinese names hard to remember she took a Christian name which is Helen. She is actually a college lecturer (wow!) and being a tour guide is her part-time job. She also specialises in Mandarin, which explains her flawless Mandarin which is likemusic . Ken was still with us though. China is quite strange. When you go to a new place, say Nanjing, or Suzhou, you have to take a local tour guide, as in a tour guide from Nanjing or Suzhou. It's like, the tour company you have signed up for should not invade Nanjing's business if they are from Hangzhou. If the company is registered in Hangzhou then it's fine for them to use their own tour guides while in Hangzhou. It's a sort of policy. Anyway, this Helen was a pretty good tour guide, spoke good English (with an American accent due to her American professor).

When we reached Sun Yat Sen's Mausoleum, which is pretty huge and impressive, Helen reminded us that we should take of our hat (if any) and walk anti-clockwise around the tomb in silence. Also, no photographs inside the tomb. She is a great admirer of Sun Yat Sen. I think she would feel it more since her father was a victim of the Cultural Revolution. I could actually hear the patriotism burning when she spoke. That's something I do not have, I admit. Anyway, I liked the way she put it.

"Maybe when you go inside, you will see many tourists making noise, taking pictures, not showing respect... But if you respect yourself, please show proper respect to Sun Yat Sen."

She did not hammer on the subject but just mentioned it once very sternly. After that I noticed not one member of the tour group did any disrespectful things while inside, although some other tour groups did.

The architecture of the mausoleum is amazing. From below, you see many steps, so many the look of it might tire you. Look:

Sorry about the shadow there, couldn't be helped. Anyway, when you reach the top, it looks easy to get down because the stairs look like large platforms. Architectural wonder!

Apparently, this is used to symbolise that the road to democracy (correct me if it isn't democracy, that is what I remember...) is hard, but after that is accomplished things will be easier (on the way down).

The place itself it a haven for nature lovers. Although it is a major tourist attraction, there are huge spaces of trees and plants that are very peaceful, very quiet. A good place to take a walk.

For the benefit of nature-lovers
Oh yes, I forgot to mention, a mythical creature somewhat resembling a lion is very popular in China. You can find it almost everywhere. It is no different at the mausoleum. There is a stone lion whose right leg has been chopped of by the Red Guards (I think) to symbolise destroying the rightists. The tail has also been destroyed, to symbolise the destruction of the rich and wealthy.

Looks rather like Aslan
Someone asked Helen how this mausoleum survived the Cultural Revolution and the Japanese. Apparently the Japanese had great respect for Sun Yat Sen and even Chairman Mao left him alone because they were on good terms once. I think.

After that we visited the Ming Tombs, which is just nearby. Sadly, I could not get any good shots due to too many tourists crowding. The tomb is inhabited by Zhu Yuan Zhang, the first Ming Emperor. According to her, there is a wondeful underground palace or something, but it hasn't been excavated yet because the Chinese government is afraid that they willl not be able to preserve the relics exactly as they are. The Terracotta Warriors were actually once brightly coloured but faded within a few days because technology was not yet advanced enough to give them full protection. Hence the Ming Tombs will lie undisturbed until such technology is available.

Then, we proceeded to a jade museum. The highlight of the museum is the jade armour which consists of many rectangular pieces of jade sewn together with silver thread. This armour is used to clothe the dead (obviously very high-ranking people). There are two holes on the helmet so that the soul can "go out" of the body and seek heaven or something like that. Apparently jade can help slow down the decomposition of a corpse.

Before we entered the museum, Helen gave a talk on jade. This is because there is a jade shop at the museum. According to Helen, the best jade isn't very dark green and there are lots of low-quality jade and fakes out there. The best colour, in her words is like this:

"Imagine the colour of a banana leaf, sparkling in the sunlight after rain. Good jade is translucent. If you place a piece of good jade on newspaper, you will still be able to read the words. Good jade is a combination of the two."

To test the quality of jade, you can use it to scratch glass. Good jade can even have a Mohs hardness of up to 7.5 (according to the jade museum staff) and can scratch glass without ever harming itself. Also, you can take a marbly-looking cylindrical object to hit a jade bangle. If the sound is clear and ringing, it is good jade. If it is dull, it is either of low-quality or fake.

Helen also explained why jade is so important to the Chinese. It is ever present in many important Chinese characters, like emperor, or country. The Chinese also believe jade to be part of themselves. The longer you wear it against your skin, the more it will change to suit your personality or qi. To Helen, it is like your muirn beatha dan, your soulmate. Also, the Chinese believe that if your piece of jade breaks, the jade has sacrificed itself to save you from great danger. Hence they have a saying, if you look after the jade, the jade will look after you. Helen was a good tour guide in the sense that she was informative and did not pester you to buy the jade unlike other tour guides. She simply said that when you find your soulmate-jade you will know it and it may take time. She also said that a good jade-seller does not sell the jade for the highest price but to the person who loves it most. I am not sure whether that is still real in the materialistic world of today.

Jade is so interesting. I think I like jade now.

After we said goodbye to Helen we went off for dinner, then to the hotel. The only five-star hotel during our stay: The Mandarin Garden Hotel.

I think the doorman was actually posing
I took this picture the following morning of course, when there was more light. However, after we checked in, I visited the nearby stores to experience Nanjing at night.

Lights! People!
Sorry about the grain, it happens when I take night pictures. Anyway, that's all for Day 2. Special thanks to Jessi for correcting the html! Plain words alone cannot express my gratitude!

TNC: Day 3

2005-12-28T20:44:00.000-08:00

On the third day, we set off for Wuxi.It simply means "without tin". The Chinese name different places very meaningfully, I've noticed. The first place we visited was the Lingshan Buddha. It's a large worshipping place with an even huger copper statue of Buddha, 88 metres tall I think, not counting the lotus flower. The path to it is lined with gingko trees, which cost 10,000 yuan each. We had another new tour guide, Rachel. Her English was also quite good and she was more of the gentle sort. The one thing I didn't like was that she kept telling us to buy more things in order to "contribute to China's economy".

See the huge bronze-ish lotus flower right in front of the Buddha? That's where a show depicting the birth of Sakyamuni was held. First, let me tell you that the Chinese are very punctual. When they say a show starts at say 10, it starts at 10, sharp. Back to the show, Sakyamuni was apparently born in a lotus flower, and when he was born nine dragons appeared and showered him with water. Western dragons spit fire, but Oriental ones spit water. So the show started with the gradual opening of the lotus flower with little Buddha inside. Then the nine dragon statues start spraying water on little Buddha. The little Buddha then does this turn as to face everyone, there is a water display and it ends. Pretty impressive though. They were even selling DVDs of the show.

Here's what the little Buddha looked like with all the water:

Can you see the rainbow in this one?
Also, while the show was going on, loads of Buddhists started praying right by the fountain. Some even drank the water that came out of the statues, like this man. He was posing for a photo so I just took one of him too.

After the little show was over, we explored the rest of the place. There was a huge copper statue of Laughing Buddha with 100 little children. I don't know whether it was really 100 because I didn't count. Anyway, have a look yourself.

Here's a rather naughty kiddie:

As expected, loads of people were lining up to take pictures with Laughing Buddha. I was lucky to get a shot of Laughing Buddha without anyone there. Then I saw a most horrible thing. This man, smartly dressed in a suit, sat down on the statue to take a picture. Okay, no problem with that. But before he sat down, he just flung the cigarette he had been smoking onto the ground! The spotless ground! Holy ground! Imagine my horror. Since he was posing so well I took a picture of him as well. See the cigarette butt highlighted in red?

Just goes to show no matter how well you dress you can't hide who you really are. Now, take a look at this old man. He's so lovely, preserving this historical place. Actually, he's scraping the candle wax used for praying off the floor. There's a lot, all from the candles people light.

He makes the other guy look really bad. The Chinese government takes extemely good care of these historical places though. You can see workers like him everywhere, cleaning and cleaning. That's why everything's so spotless.

As I walked on, approaching the giant Buddha, I saw yet another smaller statue of Buddha.

Then, once you pass the temple, you can see the steps leading to the giant Buddha:
According to Rachel, women must cross the door with their right foot, while men must do it with their left foot. To show respect/tradition I think. All temples have their doorway raised, usually there's a piece of wood you have to step over. That's the way it is.

Once you reach the top (which can be quite tiring), the view looks like this:

Looks rather like Sun Yat Sen's Mausoleum, doesn't it?

After that we visited the Romance of the Three Kingdoms movie set. It's been made into a sort of theme park. We got around on a little tram because the whole place is too huge. The set is also right next to Taihu Lake. It has an area of 2,250 square kilometres! We went on a short boat cruise, if that's what you can call it. Just to show you how endless it looks, here's a picture. One of the cruise boats is in it.

I don't know why it looks so murky. There are also little islands. According to Rachel, the land around the lake is very fertile.

I like this silhouette. You can see the Chinese-shaped buildings. So mystical! The area around Taihu Lake is very beautiful. Loads of plants, reeds, trees... Like this one.

They also had a show with horses and everything, acting out a scene from the show or something like that. It was pretty hard to understand. The most interesting thing was some of the actors were quite elderly people. Their parts require them to run, and they really do! I've noticed that the Chinese are particularly headstrong in this matter. You can always see elderly roadsweepers, or labourers. There is no retirement age for them I suppose.

Here's a random shot of the show.

After the Three Kingdoms they took us to visit a pearl factory. Rachel gave a talk on pearls, about what you should look out for in a good pearl but I wasn't very interested. I still like jade better. She did a bit of 'advertising' too. I suppose tour guides get some commision if their tourists buy things.

I didn't like the man at the pearl store very much. Although he showed us how to see whether the pearl is genuine or not and even opened an oyster for us, he was too irritating. He kept hankering on about how good his pearls are. The way he spoke was the way of a true salesman. When I told him I do not like pearls very much he just kept irritating me further. Some members of the tour group got some pearls though.

How he proved that his pearls are genuine, well, first he took a mirror then wet it with a wet cloth. Then he rubbed the pearls onto it. You can see a fine trail of powder, that means it's genuine. If you don't, it's a fake. Also look at the shape and make sure the diameter is 9 mm or more otherwise it has no value. Try looking at it under orange light (I saw some flaws, heh).

That's basically all for Day 3. Again, many thanks to Jessi for educating me on html!

TNC: Day 4

2005-12-28T20:43:00.000-08:00

On Day 4 we set off to Suzhou, in the Jiangsu province. Along the way to Suzhou, I saw some pretty cool stuff outside the window. I noticed that the Chinese really love their dogs. Everytime I see someone walking their dog the dog is almost always wearing a piece of clothing. Perhaps only the upper-class people can afford that because I saw two old ladies playing with a few dogs in Wuxi and those dogs didn't have clothes. I think this dog is a bulldog.

Again, there was a new tour guide, Tony. He looked rather weedy and his voice sounded as if it would break any minute. I didn't mind that as much as his over-advertising and over-marketing which I will talk about later. The first place I visited in Suzhou was the Lingering Garden (Liu Yuan). According to Tony, Suzhou has many gardens, all built by rich men a long long time ago. If you wanted to know how rich so and so was, all you had to do was to visit his garden and see how many rocks he had. Not tiny rocks; the big ones. Rocks that look like this:

The slimmer, the taller, the better. These rocks are transported from the bottom of Taihu Lake and brought to the gardens. That alone would cost a lot. Imagine now, that these rocks can only be transported during winter. This is because the labourers had to pour water on the ground to make it icy, thus reducing friction. Then only could they slide the rock across to the rich man's garden. This rock is considered the most beautiful in the Lingering Garden, I was lucky I ran ahead to get a shot before other tourists swarmed over it.

The Lingering Garden's owner was not only rich, he was quite smart too. He retired at the early age of around 40 or 50. To him, if he continued working, he'd get loads richer, but also closer to the end of his life. So he retired after he decided to spend the rest of his life enjoying his garden. After all the riches would not be much use if he were dead.

Inside the garden, it is very very beautiful. You would be amazed! Mere stills alone cannot portray the beauty of it. Here're some:

Take note of the second one, it's actually a photo of the water. The water there is so still, so shiny, it's like a huge piece of flawless jade. The bottom picture is actually a reflection of the upper picture. That's something, eh?

Now look at this:

Although my finger is blocking a bit of the lens, you can still see quite clearly that someone has purposefully left that empty film-box there! I say purposefully because there was a small fence surrounding the rock and the box was over a metre away from it. Either that someone stepped over the small fence and dropped it there or just threw it where he or she thought no one would notice. Either way, disgusting. Obviously they have never seen this:

I took a picture of this sign sometime later but I thought it extremely appropriate here. I can't believe how anyone can just litter around this beautiful place, with workers striving with all their effort to keep it clean! Look at this man, fishing out the leaves from the pond:

Of course there're many other workers but I only captured him.

Now let's ignore that horrible person who was too lazy to find a dustbin and focus on the pavement (in the Lingering Garden, of course).

The pavements are all intricately decorated like this one. I think here, it is a picture of a phoenix and some flowers. If I remember what Tony said correctly, the rich man used small pebble-stone to make the pavement to keep the moisture out or something. This is so that those who are walking on the pavement won't get their feet cold easily. It doesn't matter if your body is bundled up under 10 layers of clothing, if your feet are cold you will still feel cold. That was how they thought. There were different pictures, imagine all the effort! It felt like such a pity trampling on them.

To make the garden seem endless and always interesting, it was designed so that the paths are zig-zagged (walk longer), you always walk around structures instead of taking the most direct path, and there are differently latticed windows. There are many windows, all with different patterns. This is so that each time you look through a different pattern, you will see a different scenery. Also, the garden was built so that it 'borrowed scenery'. It works like this: The perimeter of the garden is built right next to the huge, beautiful trees and plants outside. When you look at the perimeter (which is actually the limit or end of the garden) you will think that there is more. I suppose this is due to psychology. All of that must've worked because it certainly did feel endless. Here is a picture of a window. Just imagine different patterns. This particular window does not have a pattern of any sort.

Bamboo and round doorways feature heavily in the garden.

When we left, I finally got a glimpse of real Suzhou. The bus had taken us directly to the garden so I didn't get to step out and experience Suzhou for real. Here's what it looks like:

Note the white coloured tree-trunks. The Chinese government not only cares about its historical heritage, it also takes good care of its trees. Almost every tree I saw had either their tree-trunks painted or roped up in order to prevent the tree from getting infections. Yay! It must have taken a considerable amount of effort though. I saw the people tying trees up with rope, they needed a good 3-4 people to rope up a single tree.

Next we went to the silk factory in Suzhou. Suzhou is very famous for its silk if you didn't bother to click on the link. Tony explained how to differentiate real silk and fake silk. Then I got to see how they actually made it.

I can't remember exactly how it's made. I only know that they boil the cocoons first (see the closest pot). Then they take a brush and stir so the silk comes out.
Take a look at the silk worms:

Silk is supposed to have medicinal properties. It's good for skin. The lady washing silk is rather old, but her hands are as soft as a baby's! After getting out all that silk the lady washes it and stretches it out, joining (I forgot how many pieces) into one thick piece. Try as you might, you wouldn't be able to punch through it. Then other workers take that one thick piece, stretch it out, and combine lots of thick pieces into a quilt.

Of course, there is the marketing side. Tony was jabbering on like a nut, telling us about the qualities of silk, why we should buy it, how expensive it is outside blah blah. That's what I dislike most about tour guides: excessive marketing. I know they get commision but there has got to be a limit! He sounded more like the owner of the silk factory than a tour guide.

Get this though: A summer silk quilt sells for 400 Yuan. It's quite cheap, that's only about 50 US Dollars. The silk quilt cover, now that's the catch, sells for 1100 Yuan each. Absolute crap! That's where they try to catch you, after telling you that with a silk bedding set it's like sleeping on clouds, ooh the silk quilt is cheap, then they hesitate to tell you about the silk cover. Of course I didn't get the cover. Absolute waste of money. I would rather donate it to charity.

Lots of people bought quilts, so Tony must've been happy.

After shopping for quilts, they brought us up to this room where there's a little catwalk. Apparently, they were going to hold a special 'fashion show'. It consisted of nothing more than a few ladies strutting around the stage with silk clothing. Such a joke! Even the 'models' couldn't resist sniggering. Easy money for them I suppose. I think they work at the silk factory when they're not pseudo-modelling. Then they usher you into the silk store where there's all these silk clothes and products. They even have mini-trolleys available! That's really too much marketing.

There was even a restaurant there, where we dined after silk shopping. At the entrance of the restaurant, there was snake wine on sale. Big, clear jars are filled with herbs and wine, with a snake in it. The older, the better. The snake looks particularly horrifying, even if it's dead.

This was one of the younger wines. The older ones have only snake skins left. And they're supposed to be really valuable! Yuck.

Later on, we went on to Tiger Hill. On the way, I took a picture of the canal.

Tiger Hill has no tigers and isn't shaped like a tiger or anything like that. Legend has it that some big shot (I can't remember who) died and was buried in the hill. Three days later, a white tiger appeared out of nowhere and stood where the man was buried. The villagers were frightened and everything and didn't know what to do. Fortunately, the white tiger went away, as mysteriously as it had arrived, three days later. Thus, the hill was name Tiger Hill (Hu Qiu).

There is also a leaning tower on Tiger Hill, seven stories tall. It predates and is taller than the Leaning Tower of Pisa. I wonder why it isn't that famous.
Tiger Hill itself is also very beautiful. Everything in China seems to be beautiful, actually. Look at it:

I like the still-autumn colour of the leaves. Upon leaving Tiger Hill, there is some bamboo. I almost slipped and fell down the stairs trying to take this photo, but it was worth it. I like bamboo.

It isn't all that sharp, but I like the colour. Yum.

After that I contributed more to China's economy by visiting this shopping place.

I got some Chinese candy but I was very shocked by the rudeness of Suzhou people. When I asked the lady in the candy-store about a certain sweet (albeit in terrible Chinese), she snapped at me and totally didn't answer my question! How rude is that? I mean, I was about to contribute to her economy! I got the candy anyway.

Look closely at the next picture though.

The lady circled in red is a cleaner. You might think I'm morbid, taking pictures of cleaners, but I was actually taking a picture of McDonald's. It wasn't till today I noticed that I had taken a picture of the cleaner too.

There were many cleaners on that road. As I sat down on the bench, I observed this cleaner for a while. They are all very hardworking, it makes me feel guilty. Every single piece of litter, they sweep up with their brooms (made out of bamboo twigs) and they keep their assigned area spotless. The cleaner had probably been there for a while, sweeping away, because her face was all a blotchy red. Really red. A result of being in the cold for too long and hard work. This is why I can never bear to litter because immediately these people pop into my mind and I get guilty.

Anyway, the cleaner took a short break when she met another cleaner. So they stood there chatting for a while. I had to throw away some rubbish and accidentally heard what they were talking about, as they were near the bin. Do you want to know what they were discussing?

Brooms.

Yes, they were comparing the weight of different brooms. It made me so sad. Life in China is pretty tough. Probably a cleaner will only earn at most 400 Yuan a month working his or her butt off. Perhaps it could be interpreted differently, but I think the only reason they would talk about brooms is because they are, well, dedicated to their job. I mean, if you were dedicated to your job as a techie your favourite topic would be computers wouldn't it? You could say between cleaners their only topic would be brooms. I would say, if I were suddenly whisked away from my comfortable seat at the computer, into the clothes of a sweeper and I have to sweep away like nobody's business in order to stay alive, the last thing I'd think about is brooms. The only reason discussing brooms haven't ever crossed my mind ever before is because I'm too darn lucky I'm not poverty-stricken or needy or anything like that. I'm starting to ramble again; I dont know whether I got my point across but I will stop here.

Right, that just about finishes up Day 4. Till we meet again on Day 5.

TNC: Day 5

2005-12-28T20:42:00.000-08:00

On Day 5 I visited both Wuzhen and Hangzhou. Wuzhen is a small water village. Although it's a tourist attraction it still maintains its old splendour. Old people still live in the houses there, makes it all the more interesting. The wind was playing up, so it was exceptionally cold. I found more bamboo on the way to Wuzhen.

The first thing I noticed in the water village was this lady washing clothes in the river. Her hands were a blotchy red fom the cold! Imagine washing clothes outside, where it's almost freezing! I couldn't. The villagers seem to have built up an immunity towards the cold though.

I wandered in the back lanes of the village. Most of the houses were built wood and a little bit of cement. The back lanes were very interesting, winding, narrow... It was like travelling into time.

There isn't a Western doctor in the village, only a Chinese medicine pharmacy. Actually, most of the pharmacies in China sell only Chinese medicine. I haven't yet seen a Western one. The herbs and medicine are hung up like this:

The villagers are pretty superstitious by the way. Here is a picture of a door with a scissors, mirror and a bit of Chinese calligraphy (fu).

The scissors is to 'cut off' the bad luck, and the mirror is to reflect the bad luck to the opposite house. Pretty mean eh? The calligraphy means prosperity. Hanging it upside down means 'falling into prosperity'. You know, like falling in love. Almost every house there has this on their door.

Wuzhen isn't very commercialised. However, the locals still try to sell their handicrafts. It isn't very common though. Mostly they're just like this man here. They sit at the back enjoying the sun and air, hoping tourists will buy something.

Apparently, Wuzhen is also famous for its Chinese wine. Rice wine, I think. It's a clear, but lethal kind of wine. They brew it there, and sell it too. They even offer free samples to tourists. I tried to take a picture of the free-sample-giver but he was too camera conscious and it wasn't very good.

The villagers also like to make cloth. Strangely, all blue coloured or with blue and white patterns. They hang their cloths up on bamboo poles to dry. The way they do it is rather special. Someone will attach the cloth to a stick like a javelin, then get a running start and throw it over the poles. The cloth is then left to dry in the wind.

And a final picture of Wuzhen before I left for Hangzhou:

My memory isn't too good after this but I believe that we visited the Lingyin Temple (Souls' Retreat) in Hangzhou. There wasn't much to see, unless you're a Buddhist. By this time I'd already had quite enough of temples! However, here are some pictures.
At each temple, there's always loads of people praying. This temple is no exception.
The real highlight was Song Dynasty Park. It's this theme park built to imitate the Song Dynasty. It's pretty genuine, with a very lively atmosphere. The shopkeepers there all dress up. It was hard to get a good shot in the dark.
There was lots of food there too, Chinese delicacies. I bought a stick of sugar cane, which was really sweet! I like sugar cane very much. I wonder when I'll get to try it again. Here's a sort of Chinese pancake with fillings inside...

The highlight of the highlight was the show, which I'd been looking forward to after Warren mentioned it. "Better than Universal Studios" he said. Sadly, I have never been to Universal Studios, but it was certainly very good!

Words cannot express what I saw. I apologise I don't have any pictures of the show because there was a sign saying "Please refrain from taking photos". I didn't although many others did. Perhaps they should have put the sign in English as well.

More of Hangzhou coming in Day 6!

TNC: Day 6

2005-12-28T20:41:00.000-08:00

Today, I discovered more of Hangzhou. They call it the 'best place to live' because it's peaceful yet modern, a moderate sort of city, not sprawling and polluted like Shanghai. It was yet another beautiful day, China gets a lot of sunlight even during winter. The trees by the roadside were beautiful, complimenting the brilliant sky. Imagine what it'd look like in spring!

Well, the first place we visited was General Yue Fei's temple and tomb. Yue Fei was this super-patriotic general who was betrayed by a court official. The emperor recalled him just when he was about to gain victory over his enemies because if Yue Fei won, he would have rescued the emperor's father and brother. Simple math will tell you that the current emperor would either be replaced by his father or brother. He didn't want that, so he killed Yue Fei instead.

Those words simply say Yue Wang Miao (King Yue's Temple??) I'm not much good at translating. Once you walk inside, there are even more temples. Take a look at this one:

Although the tree is blocking one of the words, I'll tell you what it says anyway. It says, Ri Tian Zhao Xin, in English it means only the sun knows that I am innocent. I think that was what he said when he was betrayed because nothing he did could ever overrule the emperor.

Here are the words Jing Zhong Bao Guo. They practically everywhere in the temple. Legend has it that Yue Fei's mother tattooed these words onto his back, which mean "serve the country loyally". I suppose he really did. And now, here, you can see his tomb where his actual body is buried.

When I came out of the temple, I noticed an old lady sitting down on one of those big steel signs. She was eating an apple and enjoying the sunlight. I wonder whether she was a bag lady. What do you think? At times like this I wish I had 8x optical zoom!

The tour guide then took us to the tea plantation. Hangzhou is very famous for its Long Jing Cha (Dragon Well Tea). There is a story behind it, I will tell you the one the tour guide told.

Once, Emperor Qian Long visited the place where the tea is grown. The chief monk brought out the very best tea leaves to make tea for the emperor. However when the emperor tasted it, he said it was 'tasteless' and left. Of course, the chief monk felt ashamed and a mixture of other emotions. Then, later, when the emperor walked out, he realised that there was a sweet taste in his throat. He asked his aide, how did this happen? Then his aide said the tea is like this. The emperor decided he liked the tea very much and wanted to bring some back for his mother. But he had already insulted the chief monk and he thought of a plan so that the chief monk would give him more tea.

He went back to the monastery and told the chief monk, "Just now I said that your tea has no taste. But now I have concluded that no taste is the best taste. It is like how Buddhism teaches you to be simple (and all that)."

Obviously the chief monk was very glad and fetched him more of the best tea. He also gave the emperor more tea to bring back.

When the emperor let his mother taste the tea, she asked him, what is the name of this tea. The emperor had forgotten to ask the monk so he went back to the place to find out. The monk then told him the name of the tea was Virgin tea. This is because the tea leaves are picked the with lips of virgins. The emperor found this name crude and distasteful, so he renamed the tea Dragon Well Tea after a well he saw in the village.

The tea plantation is very beautiful, with sunlight on it.

They took us for a tea demonstration by a master. Inside there was a statue of this great tea master, I forgot who.

They also led us into this room where this man talked about the tea. He spoke very good English and demonstrated how he packs tea and all that. Of course, the motive was to sell. The very best Dragon Well Tea (the first pick), costs about USD 188 for half a kilo. They don't export that one because the price would double or even triple. Made sense. They also sold tea bicuits, tea sweets, tea pillows... Tea tea tea. I liked the tea very much.

Then we went on to visit the West Lake. They say that it looks best with snow, unfortunately, it didn't snow. Very sunny, on the contrary. There was a peacock place but the peacocks were all hibernating or something due to winter.

That's where the peacocks are supposed to be. I didn't miss them. I don't like peacocks. The garden was very scenic, beautiful like the others.

Of course, it wouldn't be complete without a pavillion or two.

As I wandered around, I even found a small waterfall! Small, yet powerful.

Here's a rather nice one, I personally like it. As you can see, there is a cleaner. You can find them everywhere!

Oh, and check this out! What do you think it looks like? I think it is a catseal. It's a seal with a cat's head! Use your imagination...

Oh, and here's a picture of a pagoda across the lake! I think it's Liu He Pagoda. I'm not sure.

Then it was time for a boat cruise on the West Lake. To be honest, it wasn't much. I'd have prefered walking around the lake. Still, here are some pictures. This is the place I'd have liked to walk on.

If you like, you and a lover can take a romantic boat cruise too! Like this couple:

Oh yes, I forgot to mention that there are pumps cleaning the West Lake. It is very very clean. All the boats are either man-powered or electric. Now that's the way it should be!

While the others were all using the toilet, I took the opportunity to take pictures of the plants. Here's the green green grass, one of the kinds that don't dry up during winter.

And wonderful autumn coloured leaves against bamboo!

Ended the day with shopping. It wasn't very good though. Don't you think Chinese streets all look the same?

I forgot to mention that I also visited a famous Chinese medicine chain, Bao Shu Tang. Yes, it even has a website of its own. It is possibly the most popular in China, mainly because of its wonder-medicine, Bao Fu Ling. Strangely I can't find a description of the medicine on the official apart from a very short one saying it's a best-seller. Anyway, visiting Bao Shu Tang was probably one of the best experiences.

They bring you into a mini lecture room where an employee talks about Chinese medicine. Then they let you have free samples. For instance, if you are experiencing a back ache or neck ache (like I am now, typing like mad), just tell them and they will stick this medicated plaster. Just to prove it works. It's pretty insane, they see where it hurts and they can tell what you've been doing or the other places that hurt as well.

The highlight was Bao Fu Ling. The employee was going on and on about how it can heal a burn in about 10 minutes, leaving no scar, no lasting damage. Of course I didn't believe him! No one did. So he made a demonstration. Someone wheeled in this red-hot chain. He touched the chain with paper and it caught fire, just to prove it's really a red-hot chain. Then he slashed his hand on the chain. After that he showed us each his hand, skin peeling, black and burnt. It was disgusting! Quickly, his assistant smothered his hand in Bao Fu Ling. He continued lecturing on as if nothing happened.

True enough, 10 minutes later, he washed off the cream and there was nothing there! A normal, pink, healthy hand! Seeing is believing. It's nuts, I tell you! And the cream is 100% made from plants. I gained a new respect for Chinese medicine. However, he said that employees can only do the hand burning thing once every 15 days.

As if on cue, these Chinese medicine doctors walked into the room, all dressed in black, male and female alike. Then they targeted those with money (obviously not me). There was a lady from the tour group whom I knew sitting next to me. Before I knew it, there was one of those doctors there already taking her pulse. I never thought this really worked, pulse reading. But the lady doctor just sat there with this strange expression on her face, interpreting the pulse. Then she listed out all these health problems the lady had. She could even tell where the lady had aches!

Of course there was a catch. She recommended that the lady take 5 boxes of this medicine to cure her liver or something. It cost I think, about 300 US Dollars. The tour-lady was rather sceptical. Then, perhaps to buy time, she asked her to take my pulse. Suddenly, my pulse seemed like a very personal thing. Of course I'm not going to reveal what she said here! I didn't buy anything. I bet she was disappointed.

You never know what you can find in China!

TNC: Day 7

2005-12-28T20:39:00.000-08:00

After Hangzhou, we returned to Shanghai. For the rest of the tour group, it was their last night in China, but I cleverly extended my stay. =] There were still some places to visit in Shanghai, though the programme was mostly shopping. Some people had to get new bags to fit in all their new stuff.

We paid a visit to the Jade Buddha Temple in Shanghai. There is a magnificent jade statue of Buddha in it, on the upper floor. Of course, photography isn't allowed, so there aren't many pictures to show of this temple. I only could take pictures from the outside of the temple.

In front of the temple, people prayed. Places like this are usually packed to the brim during Chinese New Year.

The Jade Buddha was magnificent, a huge piece of jade, soft, glowing in the candlelight. It looked so fragile yet so sturdy, having survived for so long. I have heard many stories of how people hid statues and things during the Cultural Revolution, but the Jade Buddha story was the best. The chief monk was a right genius. He put the Jade Buddha in a cupboard, and stuck Chairman Mao's poster on it. Thus, no one dared to break into it and the Jade Buddha survives till this day.

Remember the stone lion in Sun Yat Sen's Mausoleum? I took another picture of a brass lion here. It has a rather surprised look, and the colour is rubbed off at some places due to tourists' itchy hands.

The temple also houses the most expensive toilet in Shanghai. When Bill Clinton came to visit Shanghai, the Jade Buddha Temple was in his programme. The monks were elated of course, to receive such an honour. So they held a meeting to discuss what they could do to improve the temple. They didn't want to 'lose face' when Bill Clinton came. Then a young monk said, we should build a good toilet in case he needs to answer the call of nature. So, the monks built an air-conditioned toilet just for that event. It isn't very stylish, just expensive.

To their dismay, Bill Clinton was so busy he didn't even visit the temple. So the most expensive toilet is now used by tourists.

Anyhow, when we went out of the temple, there were child beggars begging. Our tour guide had already told us not to give money as this would encourage them. They find it easy money, better than going to school. I think their parents actually tell them to beg. It's sad. But they looked very cute! It didn't feel like they were beggars... I managed to take a picture of one of them.

As you can see, they're chubby, well-fed... They weren't as worse off as other beggars, which really killed me to see. I will write about those other beggars in a separate post. These child beggars really rehearsed their lines well. But I wasn't fooled.

Next we went shopping in Yuyuan Bazaar, which is this cultural shopping street. It's rather expensive though, compared to the others.

There was even a Starbucks there. Starbucks looks strange in a Chinese-style shophouse! But still cool.

It was then that I caught sight of the first real clouds I'd seen in days! Granted, it's a poor shot but you can still see the clouds. Not pretty, but still clouds!

There was even an Oriental Willy Wonka sweet shop there. It had all these cool Chinese sweets! I tried this round, green plum the size of a golf ball, called Cui Mei. Roughly means crunchy plum. Anyway, once you bite into it, juice squirts out into you mouth, you slurp it up and crunch away on the rest of the plum. Crunchy, yet juicy! Crunch crunch crunch. Slurp slurp slurp.

Oh yeah, I caught sight of another stone lion there. This one looks fierce!

Here's a glimpse of the 'shopping tunnel'. There's also this famous Xiao Long Bao shop there, where you have to queue up for hours to buy! Here's a description of it, courtesy of Wikipedia.

These "little juicy dumplings" are filled with meat or seafood and are famous for their flavour and rich soup inside. Shanghai steamed buns can be recognised by their unique design, as the filled wrapper is gathered up into fine folds at the top, prior to steaming. To eat this peel the dumpling off the lettuce leaf taking care not to break it and deposit it into a Chinese soup spoon, which is usually provided, adding the vinegar provided as desired. Take a small bite of the skin, allowing some of the broth to drain, and drink a bit of it. Then eat the rest of the dumpling from the spoon. Doing so will allow you to savor the taste without scalding the tongue.

Hmm... Now here's something cute. The Chinese usually wrap up their babies really warm before letting them venture outside. This makes the baby look really fat, but they aren't! They look rather cute bulging with clothes. Here's a random picture of a little toddler clinging onto her grandmother.

I told you they look cute!

Oh here's a perfect opportunity to write down a conversation I heard between two girls and a grandmother while in a bookshop.

Gran: So which book do you want? One or two?
Girl 1: Errr... One is enough.
Cashier: That'll be 1 Yuan.
Girl 1: Wow, so cheap! 1 Yuan! Take two take two!
Cashier: Yes, very cheap. Okay, that'll be 2 yuan.
Gran: Why can you never make up your mind...
Girl 1: Hey, are you starving? I am. I'm dying of hunger... Ah! Here it is!
(I thought it was a sandwich or something but it turned out to be a tube of sweets, smaller than Smarties even)
Girl 1: Here, one for you, one for me.
Girl 2: Hey! You took two just now!
Girl 1: Do you want it or not? I was very hungry!

They chatter and chitter like that all the time! It makes me smile.

After that, a stroll along the Bund. A trip to Shanghai wouldn't have been complete without that. View of the Pearl Tower during daytime.

Other people, also taking a walk.

Then, we paid a visit to Nanjing Road, another shopping place, only more expensive and no bargaining. It was nicely lit up though.

See the cleaner in the green uniform?

There was also a fruit seller, selling mangosteens and rambutans! Not easily found in China...

After shopping, (I managed to get a book), we went on the boat cruise. It was quite boring, actually. Taking pictures at night sure is hard!

Compare the daylight Pearl Tower and the nighttime one.

More advertising.

So ended my last night with the tour group. Day 8, I go on alone!

TNC: Day 8

2005-12-28T20:35:00.000-08:00

Christmas Eve! Last day with tour group, like I said. The last venue with the tour group was Xiang Yang Market. It's mainly for tourists I suppose, but a nice place to bargain and shop unlike the others. The others sell trinkets; this actually sells more clothes. The quality isn't half bad too.

After leaving the tour group, there was a driver to take me around. He was quite a grumpy fellow, not friendly at all. So I had to rely on Lonely Planet. The first place I visited after that was the Shanghai Museum, which is supposed to be one of the finest. It's next to the People's Square. The pigeons in the People's Square are really fat! They don't look like they can fly at all! Or even toddle along! Urgh... I don't like pigeons. They're so well-fed I think they have a better life than the sweepers or beggars.

The Shanghai Museum is very impressive! The architecture, mostly. See the criss-crossing elevators! It's just so neat. Maybe it's just the angle...

There's this gigantic glass dome-like object on top, where the sunlight streams through. Pretty!

The exhibition areas are very spacious, very well-lit so the artifacts are really the emphasis. There must be millions of artifacts! There were so many I began to get bored. It'd have taken a lot of effort to examine each in detail unless you have a real passion for that sort of thing.

The lasting impression was the native costumes exhibit. There was a costume made out of fish-skin! Ewwwww...

I managed to at least look through all the exhibits. Some were closed though. And did I mention the ticket only costs 20 yuan for an adult? Even cheaper if you're a student! Super worth it!

Outside the museum there're 8 stone statues. 4 on each side. Here's 4, I had to rush to the car.

I checked into a new hotel after that. It was much better than the other one! They certainly didn't waste any money getting in a Christmas tree! It was so darn tall!

When I viewed this in my camera it looked nice and sharp. When I uploaded it onto the computer it didn't. Ah, sorry about that. Should've taken a spare shot, I know. Anyway, see how it almost reaches the ceiling?

At night, there was a choir. They sang so beautifully!

So sweet!

At the hotel, I noticed a rich family. Probably Hongkies cause of what they spoke. There was a cute little girl playing with a lady. She was standing next to the heater, saying that she is 'washing her hands'. Then she insisted the lady wash her hands too. They were having such fun, I was like, ah, so lovely. What a happy family. Then the lady turned around and I saw that she was a Phillipino maid! The real mother was just this lady sitting silently away with her husband. Suddenly it didn't seem like such a happy family. The parents were so distanced that I'd have never have guessed that they were parents! Ironically, the girl seemed to get along much better with her maid. I actually thought the maid was the mother from behind! That's food for thought. Rich people hire too many maids until they don't know how to 'wash hands' with their children.

After a dinner of Peking duck at Ya Wang, which wasn't very good, I went to mass at St Peter's International Church. I only managed to take a quick shot on the way out because cars aren't allowed to stop at the roadside for too long.

There were loads of Westerners there, mainly American and French. Little did I know that the choir there is so darn good! Oh my... I can't even begin to describe how lovely it was! Their intertwining voices! The melody simply melting together! Oh! I've watched the Vienna Boys' Choir before, but this humble choir could even rival them. No pictures though. Never did I expect to find such a soul-moving choir in Shanghai, of all places.

I end this post, with a picture of genetically modified roses which I found in the hotel. Green roses. Ho hum.

Sorry it's so short but there wasn't much to take today.

TNC: Day 9

2005-12-28T20:31:00.000-08:00

Christmas Day! As it is (or was?) Christmas, I suppose I could go the extra mile and put more photos. I think there are almost 30 photos in this post alone.

Today I travelled to Sheshan. There's a very old Catholic church on the hill I wanted to visit. Unfortunately (or fortunately), the driver took me to East Sheshan. I had to take a cable car up to East Sheshan, walk through the park, take another cable car up to the main hill with the church on it and retrace my steps. Imagine my frustration! It all turned ou to be a blessing in disguise afterwards.

The cable cars looked a bit dodgy. They didn't have glass windows and could only seat two people. Notice the sled at the back of the cable car. I'll talk about that later.

It was in the highlands so it was slightly misty. Still you can see the church and the Jesuit observatory which is right next to it.

At that time I didn't know the driver had left me here to take a fantastic merry-go-round trip up the hill and back on cable cars. I was pretty frustrated and confused when the ticket lady tried to explain everything. In the end I thought it would be a waste to go back down and ask the driver to take me directly up so I went through the park.

It looked so desolate! Almost like something out of horror movies.

Zig zag paths as usual. On the plus side, there was loads of bamboo! It was practically a bamboo forest.

Actually, there were many strange things to see in the park. There were these butterfly parks, deer parks, paintball places... I don't know. If it wasn't so lonely it'd have been nicer. Maybe it's just lonely during winter.

There are little signs pointing to the small attractions. Here is the Buddha Fountain. It was next to a little shop.

There was an old couple tending to the little shop. I wonder what kind of business they get. The man was doing something strange... cutting wood or something. The wife (I presume), was wiping the empty tables continuously. It was creepy, in a way, because neither spoke.

I continued exploring. There was also this Dragon Pond (Long Tan). It seemed to be rotting away or something. I don't think there were many cleaners there.

Also, a very very very creepy Yellow Dragon Cave! It's so dark and mysterious, there might actually be a dragon snoozing inside.

Even spookier:

Still, I saw the only other people there (a man and woman) crossing over.

China has its own version of House of Wax. The butterfly place is actually some rooms with dead butterflies in them!

If you think that's creepy, see what they did to the other butterflies:

I half expected somebody to lunge out and mutilate my body so that they'd look like butterflies and I'd be part of this strange museum. Too much House of Wax. There was actually this huge butterfly-peacock but I didn't manage to get a good picture because of the reflection.

Personally, I like this bamboo picture the best:

Okay, then I decided I did enough exploring, and took the cable car up to Sheshan. Yay!

First I visited the observatory. It had a huge telescope like the kind you see in old movies. Only, I couldn't take a picture of it because I don't think it was allowed. I could take this though!

What a magnificent clock-thing, you must be wondering. What is it? Ah, I smartly took a picture of the description as well. Only you'd have to be able to read Chinese to understand the better part of it.

Around the observatory and church, there're loads of trees and plants. A good number of the trees are a century or two old. They have plaques and protection. Good, eh?

Oh, and I found a very cute ceramic lion!

The little guy's trying to look fierce! I saw some of these back of the church. Their heads were broken.

Here's the church itself.

I went into the church, there was quite a number of tourists/Catholics. Unfortunately, I took some pictures before I noticed the sign forbidding me to do so. I felt so guilty. On the bright side, I only took a few. I was thinking whether or not to put them up here... In the end, since it's Christmas, I will.

The best picture I took there:

That's the caretaker. He was a wheezy old man who kept coughing. No wonder he forgot to remind me not to take photos.

Right, a bit of information about the church. I couldn't find it in Wikipedia, although it was listed under Marian churches. It is just called Sheshan Church because it's Marian. It's about 60-100 years old, and was destroyed in the war and Cultural Revolution. Rebuilding is still taking place. All the stained glass... destroyed! What a waste.

The back looks like this:

After exploring the church, I went back down to the national park. Then I discovered the sled! (Do you remember? If not scroll back up to take a peek) I took the sled down the hill! Yes! There's a slide-thing. You sit on the sled, which is motor-powered, and slide down! Pull up to speed up, push down to brake. It was good fun! Much better than the dodgy cable car!

After that I dropped by St Ignatius Cathedral (Xu Jia Hui). It was built in the year 1906. 100 years old! Oh and I just realised (after Wikipediaing), that the cathedral was used in the opening scenes of Steven Spielberg's Empire of the Sun. Cool.

The cathedral is very lovely. Old, ancient, the feeling of history! You can smell it in the air! It's also a very active church. However because of too many tourists, there is a man outside who will ask whether you are Catholic or not. If you aren't you have to wait for them to provide you a tour guide for the church. If you are then you can visit the cathedral yourself. I suppose they don't want tourists running wild. I can understand why. I saw quite a number of people praying quite fervently, yet still there were some 'wild' tourists running around and making lots of noise.

My neck is aching very badly now. I sign off, this Christmas post, with another bunch of singers! A choir to be exact. The sang very nicely, as they did the day before.

TNC: Day 10

2005-12-28T20:24:00.000-08:00

Boxing Day! I didn't have any boxes to box so I went to visit the Yuyuan Garden. When I reached there I realised it was the same place I went to, Yuyuan Bazaar, only I'd forgotten the name! Still, I didn't explore the garden with the tour group. Today I did.

Here's a metal lion, more intricate.

There was a pond there, and people selling fish food but the fishies were busy finding a warmer place than to overeat. The surface was too cold.

The fee to enter the garden is not cheap. I think about 40 Yuan or something. It was quite worth it though, had I not to rush in order to meet the car on time. Here's a wine-jar shaped doorway! The only one I ever saw in China.

This is possibly the best picture I took in the garden:

Oh yeah, there were loads of rocks there too. Presumably from the bottom of some lake. See, lots of stone.

I also found this strange, grape-like plant!

Okay, now for the Shanghai Aquarium! It's the best! One of the best in the world I should think. It's situated at the base of the Oriental Pearl Tower, and is run by Singaporeans. The ticket is relatively costly: 110 yuan. At first I was doubting whether it would be worth it, but when I went in, I think they needed the money very badly because it would take a lot just to maintain the place.

This cute little guy welcomed me!!! His name is... ah... Philip the unknown sea creature. So cute eh?

The place is gigantic, very well planned, not too cramped, not too far-apart. There's a special shark-place where you can even touch the baby sharks if you like. The architecture is amazing, as is the decoration.

I saw a man preparing to dive into a tank. I took a picture of him:

It was so exciting! I thought he was going to feed the fish or something! As I am half the time, I was wrong. He was just cleaning. I went down the elevator (which is surrounded by glass so you can see the water) and he was fumbling with a huge tube.

I am very easily excited. And very easily distracted. Soon I was off to a different part of the aquarium.

I caught sight of the biggest freshwater fish. I don't know what it's called but it sure looks scary... and ugly. Sorry, fish!

The Shanghai Aquarium tries to provide the best environment for the fish or sea creatures. There're even mangrove trees.

Prepare to oooh and aahh... These needlefish are so darn cute! Umm... Their names are... um... Anakin and Luke.

Oh and here is, Clive Stapler Lewis, a fan of Clive Staples Lewis. He was not moving. I guess he was stationary for a few hours already. If I didn't see his tiny chest breathing I'd have thought he was fake.

Oh, and here's another cute photo! Tortoises! With such interesting shells! Okay, I name them, Doro and Thy.

Mmmm, there were even seals in the aquarium! I think they are seals. They might even be something else. I name this one... Hammy. Admire her/his chest.

Have a look at the useless penguins. They did nothing but shit and piss. Seriously! I stood there for about 10 minutes hoping they would jump into the water or something but they just waggled and waggled, shitting and shitting, pissing and pissing. Hrmph! Useless penguins. I thought they were fake, the way they were doing nothing at all. Except shitting.

Here's something I've seen in seafood restaurants before. I think they're quite yummy. Okay, I'm being morbid. Here they are!

Poor things, they're struggling to get out. I don't think I'll name them.

If you like colours, you'll like this miniature Nemo-World! Can you spot the Dorys?

It's so pretty! There's coral and everything! Shanghai Aquarium rocks!

Oh, and if you think that was pretty, see this.

The one on the bottom right side is mooning everybody. Tee hee!

The Aquarium also has an underwater tunnel over 100 metres long. It's lovely, a glass tunnel with sea-life all around you.

This is the only picture without people in it:

A bit dark. Hmmm, sorry. Anyway, time for the sharks!

When I was there, it was feeding time. I didn't manage to get good stills of shark-feeding but I did take a good video. I will try to figure out how to post videos and then put them in a separate post.

After the tunnel, it was straight to the gift shop. It was huge, very colourful. They didn't have nice shirts. They only had those print-on designs you can put onto plain shirts.

For dinner, I had Peking duck again, at Lao Beijing (Old Peking/Beijing). It was considerably better than Ya Wang. The waitress was also nicer. The only bad part about dinner was these two men beside my table. They kept smoking and smoking and smoking! Non-stop! More than they ate, even. There were loads of unfinished food, just left there, while they smoked. I was suffering, inhaling their stinky smoke. I had to breathe through the wet hand-towel. Luckily, they left. Unluckily, all the unfinished food went to waste. I'm talking about 4 or 5 dishes, with about 80% left. Remarkably wasteful... However it is good that China is changing. Soon there won't be people like that left.

This time, I took pictures of the chef cutting up the duck.

This is without flash.

This is with flash. See the shiny roasted duck? Mmmmmm...

More duck!

Duck brain! Some Chinese like to eat it, some don't. Of course I don't. Some stalls sell duck heads, many of them in a big simmering pot.

See, even the plate is duck-shaped.

When I left, everyone was just finishing up. I took a picture of the duck-roasting place. There were some naked ducks hanging there. They should wear shorts or something, some of them were quite obscene.

And with that, I end Day 10.

TNC: Day 11

2005-12-28T20:20:00.000-08:00

Today I took a ride to Jiading, a Shanghai district. It is quite a lovely town, not so busy yet not too quiet. They sold lots of dog meat there though, something China is famous for.

Armed with Lonely Planet: China, I set off to visit the Confucius Temple first, which was supposedly built in the 1500s only to find out tourists cannot go in, only students. They were renovating the path near there. Outside the temple there are 72 stone lions, representing Confucius's students. Instead, I visited the next item recommended by Lonely Planet: The Dragon Meeting Pond. Like I said, it was a quiet town so it didn't cost much. Only 10 Yuan I think, for you to enter the garden.

There were lots of bamboo there, whee! It was like an Oriental Narnia!

Like Sheshan, it was quite deserted as well. Perhaps it was still early. There were only a couple of people doing Qi Gong in the garden. I didn't dare to take a photo of them.

As usual, little lions lining the bridges. There was quite a number of bridges in the garden.

As I was wandering around in the garden, I was thinking, where's the dragon? It was quite frustrating because the garden was so big and there wasn't signage. I expect it isn't the place where tour companies would bring tour groups to. Then I found it, in a secluded area with weeping willows all around.

I found it quite creepy because the water was so murky. The dragon looks quite freaky too. Still, I liked the reflection.

Wandering on further, I reached the pavilion. There are pavilions everywhere in China. The ceiling was rather unique, meant to make you dizzy! Also there is a mirror in the centre. If you stand right in the center, you will be able to see yourself. Mirrors can be scary.

The white patch is where you can see yourself.

There is an open space in front of the pavilion, meant for shows. People can sit at the pavilion to watch the shows. I wonder whether shows are still being held there. Again you can see another pavilion.

There was also a relatively small pagoda in the garden. It was scary because it had wind-chimes at each corner of the roof. These kept chiming away while I climbed it. They only stopped when I climbed back down. Freaky!

This is a rather bad shot of the pagoda but the only one I took of it. The sun was behind the pagoda.

While I was on the top, I saw a lady and her baby. I waved to them and they waved back. Such friendly people!

Here's one of the many bridges.

Oh, yes, before I forget, there were some strange plants in the garden. One of them was this cluster-like plant. I managed to take a macro shot of it. You can actually see the cobwebs!

The sun's reflection in the water was also quite lovely.

Another lion, this one more elaborate than the others.

Then, I walked to Fahua Pagoda. It's a seven-storey pagoda, built very long ago. The steps are very, very narrow and uneven. It was quite difficult to climb!

The view of Jiading was something new, not exactly breath-taking but it was amazing to see how big it really was.

Can you spot the ever-present McDonald's?

I took a walk in the town too. The people there do strange things, like hanging chickens outside their door to dry. Preparation for the New Year I suppose. There was one with a kite outside too.

Then, I said goodbye to Confucius.

Next on the list was the Garden of Autumn Clouds. It was winter but I decided to pay it a visit anyway because Lonely Planet described it as one of the 'finest gardens'.

It houses a temple, Cheng Huang Miao.

There weren't that many people praying there. The first thing I saw of the garden was the lake.

It looked a muddy green unlike the one in Suzhou but beautiful nonetheless. You might not think it's pretty, but look at this. Prepare yourself... Ta daa!!!!

Isn't it absolutely awesome??? So beautiful!! I feel like it's autumn. No wonder it's called Garden of the Autumn Clouds. It must look so wonderful during autumn...

I was in a hurry so I didn't really get to explore every nook and cranny. I end Day 11 with more lakes! Water features heavily in this garden.

After Jiading, I returned to Shanghai to enjoy another shopping spree at Xiang Yang Market.

Good day to all! Monday looms...

Away!

2005-12-15T21:26:00.000-08:00

Hi there everyone, I'll be journeying off to a mystical land for about a week or two so there'll be an absence of posts during that time. Hopefully I'll be back armed with loads of photos and stories to tell.

Today I went to get a hip pouch to put my electronic gadgets in (since I'd have to bring more than just one memory card). I ended up with a padded Eagle Creek one. This is what it said on the packaging:

"Protect your high-tech gadgets from low-tech knuckleheads"

Doesn't get any cooler than that!

I have also watched Narnia, expect a review on that one. Because I intend to make it all proper, it'll take some time. One thing is for certain though: It kicked Harry Potter's ass! Not that there was much of an ass to kick.

xxx

A. Spam

Ocean Blue Taste

2005-12-13T21:25:00.000-08:00

McDonald's has once again brought back sundaes covered in blue syrup and blue Sprite (or is it 7-up?). I think they call it McFizz or blue fizz, something like that. The poster yells though, ocean blue wave/taste... I can't remember. What I can remember is how they make blue Sprite.

I went to get lunch from McDonald's, only to find it strangely empty. Usually there are long queues and things of that sort, but today, no. Instead I found a three crew members chit chatting away behind the tills. They jumped when I came in, managing to utter a quick greeting. They kept getting my order mixed up. Yes, they. One stood behind the till punching in my order, one repeated it, and another was asked me what kind of sauce I'd like. People at McDonald's get my order mixed up sometimes, but this is the first time three crew members with three brains between them had to ask a million questions before getting it right. As I had to wait a few minutes for them to get another burger, they kindly offered me a drink.

I stood there sipping and sipping the lovely fizzy Coke even though I know it's not good for me. Then I noticed another crew member busy pumping blue liquid into the paper McDonald's cups before pouring in the drinks. I was quite confused. At first, I thought she was actually cleaning the cups with blue dishwashing liquid and carbonated soft drinks. Then I realised how silly that sounded. As I watched more closely, I saw she was actually making ocean blue Sprite.

The blue liquid was in a shampoo-like container, the one with the pump. That's why I thought it was dishwashing liquid at first. I heard her calling it the "blue syrup". First she took an empty cup, pumped blue liquid into it three times, then put it on the drinks dispenser and pressed the Sprite button. It fizzed and fizzed while she added a slice of lemon. The lemon slices were in this metal container and she fished them out with a spoon. From what I could see, they were floating around in syrup (it was thick and clear). Another crew member stood next to her with a sundae in dark blue syrup. Nothing more than food colouring added into Sprite. For that you get charged extra.

I finished my Coke, got my lunch and walked out after saying thank you to all three of the crew members. Watching them make blue Sprite made me rather sick.

Better Than Football

2005-12-13T04:55:00.000-08:00

For the past three days I have been away performing at a charity concert, thus the lack of posts during that period. At first, I admit, I did regret a bit because the concert clashed with a football tournament, but now I am truly glad I went for the concert instead. As Kamun said, it is, after all, for charity. I will try to give a rather detailed account of my experience, therefore it will be long so if you are not one for long personal posts, please skip this one.

There was about 80 of us performing at the concert as an orchestra. This charity concert is something of a bi-annual affair. We have been there 2 years back, for the same charity. I suppose the proceeds goes to this orphanage, whose committee organised the concert as a sort of fund-raiser and form of thanks to those who donated large sums of money. Each time there is always one or two concertos. This time, one with a pianist, and one with a violinist.

I remember two years back, we met a cellist named June. She was 19 then, and she only joined us for the concerto (the pianist is her brother). At that time she already had a diploma in cello and she was just finishing her Grade 8 piano. That left me awestruck. Those achievements are like, far out of reach for me, they still are. That coupled with the fact I accidentally knocked into her priceless cello, well I remembered her. I wondered whether I would see her again this time, and I did.

She looked exactly the same, and as friendly as ever. You can't help but feel inferior being with something like a musical genius, especially someone you don't know. However, she didn't act at all superior, in fact quite the contrary. I learnt a couple of things from her that I should share with all you other cellists out there:

1. Your brand new cello, your pride and joy, your partner for life, does not like to be scratched. One of the common ways it gets scratched (as I've noticed), is to put it on the floor while you go off to relieve your bladder or something like that. No matter how you put it, your cello will have to sustain some minor damages if you place it on the floor. Damages, that will, in time, reduce your cello to nothing more than a piece of wood with strings. Of course you could prop it up on your chair but that is extremely dangerous because a tiny push could send it toppling over and you browsing cello catalogues. So. What do you do? I have been wondering about that. Until now, I've always risked a scratch or two, and perhaps maybe tried very hard not to put it down.

I noticed that June placed her cello on top of a piece of cardboard box. Lying on the cardboard, it was virtually free from damages! Plus, not so likely to topple over. Cheap, yet effective. Simply collect old cardboad boxes of mineral water or something like that and you have a cello protector. Out of curiosity, I asked her where she got that fabulous idea. Apparently, she doesn't usually put down her cello at all while practicing, but she noticed that cardboard box nearby and seized the opportunity. Ingenious.

2. I also noticed that her and her fellow cellist friends had squarish rubber on the end of their spikes to prevent slipping. I have that problem too with the school's cellos. Some don't even have rubber. Some have pierced right through and they even make black marks on the carpet. So I asked her where she got those rubber ends.

Believe it or not, they are door stoppers. Which she got from hardware stores for 10 cents apiece! Isn't that handy?

Perhaps I will see her again in two years' time, I hope. Forgive me if I sound over-excited, but June is the first professional cellist I have ever had the good fortune to meet. Hopefully, not the last.

ABC

2005-12-08T05:34:00.000-08:00

I was thinking of what to write, when I remembered this boy I met way back in primary school. His name was Benjamin and he is Chinese.

We used to go for the same classes so sometimes, while waiting, I'd talk to him about anything and everything. Usually he only talked about computer games. One day, however, he complained about his lousy Mandarin and how he hated it so much. So I said that since he was Chinese he should learn his mother tongue properly. He replied promptly, "I'm not really Chinese, I'm an ABC."

Now, I'd have said, "What the bloody heck is an ABC?" But of course, then, I asked him politely, "What do you mean by ABC?" I hadn't heard that term before, it definitely seemed irrelevant since he looked like a Chinese, had Chinese parents, knows Mandarin (although maybe not too well), all Chinese.

He answered me impatiently, "Don't you know what an ABC is? It means American Born Chinese. ABC. Get it?"

"Huh?"

He looked at me like I was the biggest idiot he had ever met. "I was born in Los Angeles. In America." He rolled the last two words around his tongue like they were a divine message from above.

Of course, I was still flabbergasted. I didn't understand why where a person was born should affect his race or heritage! In fact, I still don't. He looked so proud of being an ABC I didn't question him further except to ask why he was born in America which he was only too happy to answer. At that time I liked to ask questions about everything.

I suppose that then, Americans were, in his eyes, superior. So him, being an ABC, was also superior. I wonder what he thinks now.

Opening My Eyes

2005-12-04T04:46:00.000-08:00

After the Melanie incident, I actually notice more. Like the "Handicapped Driver" bumper stickers and the one-armed man in the petrol station. Even the deaf people in church.

Usually there are these front row pews that are reserved for the deaf. There is quite a number, now that I have opened my eyes. Then, there is someone in front "translating" whatever is being said into sign language, like hymns and announcements. I never really took notice of these people, or how important this was to the deaf. At first, seeing the person "translating" right up front, I took him to be deaf too since he kept using sign language. Then I used my brains. How could he "translate" if he can't hear? I realised, quite stupidly, that he was a volunteer who knows sign language.

After that I put much more thought into it. It was pretty strange to see how intently they looked at their translator, reading his hands. Stranger to think, I'd never noticed this before. Or thought about church without sound. Or to not be able to understand what's going on properly, unless I can lip-read. I was quite ashamed to have never thought of this before, or of those people. I was selfish. Maybe I still am.

In more ways than one, I think, I am, like them, handicapped. Funny how it took just one person for me to realise that.

Drawing in the Air

2005-12-03T06:50:00.000-08:00

After football today, I ended up at Melissa's place. Coincidentally, her uncle and his family were there too.

There were altogether 4 of her cousins, starting with Melanie, then twins Jamie and Madeleine, and lastly baby Brennan. I liked her house, with so many people in it; it was very merry, and not in the least suffocating. The twins were rather afraid of me and even though the usually took their clothes off outside the bathroom, they were too embarassed to do it while I was there. Brennan was crawling on the floor playing with everybody (who doesn't like cute babies?). Then there is Melanie.

Melanie looked very quiet, and bored with everything that was going on around her. Then I realised, Melanie is the deaf cousin Melissa and Sheryl talk about. From her looks, you wouldn't have guessed it, but by the quick movements her hands make in the air, it's quite obvious. I remembered her to be the girl I gave a Princess Diaries' diary away to last year, because I thought she'd enjoy it more than I would. I was curious as to whether she remembered, so I asked Melissa to convey the message.

After a flurry of hand-waving, Melanie's face lit up as she remembered the diary. I felt glad that I gave it to her; she looked so genuinely happy. I have a limited knowledge of sign language, just about a few basic words and the alphabet. Nevertheless, it was fun to "talk" to Melanie, while drawing up words in the air. Suddenly, she transformed from being slightly sullen, to a 13 year-old girl with a huge smile on her face. Sometimes we paused as I tried to think of things to talk to a stranger who is also deaf. Sometimes we just stared at her twin sisteres and baby brother playing together with a plastic train. I tried to imagine looking at the same scene without sound at all, and failed. To live a life void of sound? How must it feel, I wonder.

Melanie can speak, but she has to try very hard, and it's only a word at a time, or only a noise to catch someone's attention. She tried pronouncing my name, by lip-reading. She got it half-right though she found it very difficult. She had to try different ways all the time, and asking us whether or not it was correct. It is like playing the piano without hearing what you're playing, just feeling your fingers play. I felt quite flattered she put such an effort into it.

I drew more ideas and thoughts in the air with my hands (with the help of Melissa and Melanie). I left a little after eight.

With Christmas coming up, I will most probably get Melanie a Christmas present she'd like. I cannot forget the look of joy on her face when she "talks" about the diary. I didn't know it would have such a big impact; perhaps it's because I'm used to such things.

Christmas is a time to remember those who should be remembered. I wouldn't mind springing a few surprise gifts for some people along the way.

Coincidence or Consequence?

2005-12-02T05:25:00.000-08:00

I paid a trip to the pharmacist with my mother today, to get some things. She needed some medicine; I needed insect repellent and cream for all the insect bites I've been getting while playing football in an insect-infested field. That's a lot of insects.

At first, I had to wait in the car because there weren't any parking spaces. I did want to go down and look for the repellent myself because if someone else chooses, I tend to feel slightly unsatisfied. One of my quirks... But because of circumstances, I had to forego this one. As my mother stepped into the pharmacy, a man wanted to get out of his parking space and she had to come back and remove the car because it was blocking him. I thought, ha, now I get to choose my own insect repellent! My mother, though, mumbled to herself that she might not be able to squeeze into that parking space. The next thing I knew, the car in front also left it's parking space, leaving her no excuse not to park. As I stepped out of the car happily, I wondered to myself, coincidence or consequence? The Merovingian would have said the latter. I was quite undecided.

I like browsing shops. You never know what you might find! For instance, I just found out that my sunblock lotion isn't really a good deal since I saw one that's spray-on and sweat-proof, which is ideal for football! I had a good time choosing insect repellent, you won't believe how many kinds there are. There's the stick-kind, the spray-on one, and the cream-kind. Then there're loads of brands. I stuck with the cream one because the spray-on one didn't justify the difference in price.

As I walked over to the counter to dump my insect repellent there, my mother was conversing with the pharmacist. The pharmacist is a lady, probably in her thirties, who reminds me very much of Miss Leela. In fact, I will just call her Miss Leela instead of 'the pharmacist' to simplify things. She's on the skinny side, and sounds like she has a perpetual cold. That isn't very comforting to hear in a pharmacy. She was very friendly because my mother is something of a regular customer.

Apparently, she was telling my mother about different kinds of medication for her 'inflammation of the knee'. The sports physician she goes to seemed to have given her something too weak, so she recommended some other things as well. I can't remember the rest of it, but she even examined my mother's knee quite professionally, I must say, just like a doctor. That was cool, and I might have wanted to be a doctor if not for my chemistry.

Anyway, when she spotted the insect repellent, she tried to make small talk, asking me whether I was planning to camp. I told her about the infested field and football. To my surprise, she didn't show any signs of surprise. She just took it very lightly. Most people would at least raise their eye-brows. That made me feel better. Then she went on about how I must be interested in scuba diving because I seem so 'adventurous'. As a matter of fact, I am, only my parents don't let me because it's 'dangerous'. Miss Leela, seemingly harmless pharmacist, is as it turned out to be, also a scuba diving trip arranger. My mother nodded along placidly, but I know now how to bring up the subject of scuba diving again.

It's strange how wanting to buy insect repellent could trigger such a chain of events. Strange even how not one but two parking spaces were available last minute. I understand most of this post has been rambles about myself, but I can't help wondering...

Coincidence or consequence?

On Another Note

2005-12-01T02:10:00.000-08:00

I have stumbled upon a very nice blog, one I quite like, entitled "Going Diving". I don't know much about it, but I liked one of the posts, "Best Kid in Honduras". It reminded me very much of something I would read in Readers' Digest. Great stuff. Just thought I'd share them with all of you. The posts have lately been about a boy named Leonel, who well... Find out for yourself.

Link to "Going Diving": click here.

Link to "Best Kid in Honduras": click here.