A Mid-Autumn's Tale

It is supposingly mid-autumn festival tomorrow, and the mercury has yet to dip below 24C. The long summer in Hong Kong has no inkling of coming to an end, nor is autumn starting to prevail in this part of the world. The usual festivity mode has yet to take effect, counting by the number of moon-cakes one received this year. Is it because people no longer care about the festival, or is it because people has taken a sudden interest to keep one’s health in proper perspectives, or could it be the financial meltdown that made everyone more selective in who and who truly deserved the moon-cakes! I rest my case, for I have been in Hong Kong long enough to be 'sinolised’ and quite rightly think more a Chinese than a Malaysian.

The Mid-autumn festival is taken very seriously in this part of the world. The Chinese, will celebrate the Mid-autumn over 3 days, giving each day a name to signify its importance. You have ‘welcoming the moon’, ‘ushering the moon’ and lastly, ‘chasing the moon’. 17 years ago, the mid-autumn festival is nothing more than a lantern festival to me whereby you eat moon-cakes in abundance. 17 years later, the festival has taken a separate meaning. Part of it is being with the family, for a reunion dinner, and the other part of it is deciding how to spend the night with your lovely other half (if you have one, that is). Or, quite simply “When the moon is round, families unite.” "Yuè yuán, rén yuán."

I am not too sure if this was my imagination but the moon in Hong Kong is certainly bigger and rounder than the one I have seen in my home country. It is so BIG that you focused on your gaze for more than 5 minutes; you will eventually see Wu Gang chopping the cherry tree. Nah, nothing of that sort, a legend is forever a legend. You heard the story a thousand times, you can’t seriously believe there is Chang’e, the rabbit, and the woodcutter up there, would you? But it is always a nice story to tell despite silly Armstrong planting a flag there for no apparent reason. And yes, the festival does invoke a sense of nostalgia. Gone were the days when children could roam around the streets in the dark with their lanterns and more importantly without the fear of being kidnapped. It was an age of simplicity when a simple lantern is all it takes to give the child a sense of content. These days, kids don’t roam in the dark no more, the roam the net and surf to their heart’s content. Which begs the question, which generation is happier?

I am not going to digress into the importance of this festival; it is indeed a matter of personal judgment. This is the first year my Melody is not celebrating Mid-autumn with her old man. I hope when she sees the London moon today, she will remember her ever lonely dad at home. So, despite our government’s fruitless effort to have a formula 1 team, the incredibly lack of commercial intuition to ‘exchange’ the land in Tanjong Pagar, the yoyo politics and finally the comedies of mis-quotation by some of our ministers….. Yes, I like to celebrate the festival my way. Guess I will sit down to taste the latest edition of moon-cakes…..the bird’s nest version. And perhaps with a tiny tinkle of Lafitte it should go down well. Happy Mid-autumn folks.

Play it again, Sam

Some say as one aged, one’s memory tends to fade exponentially. But, it is equally true that as one’s memory faded, one will try hard to remember one’s actual age. I did not make this up; my sister merely ‘said’ this in her son’s blog. She refuses to tell her birthday age (being a female gender) but I suspect it was because she couldn’t remember and hides it conveniently under her senility.
How time flies, I still remember the years when our birthdays went away unnoticed except mum would always insist upon having us to swallow two really hard boiled eggs. And that is a sign of another year older. There wasn’t a gift, or a surprise birthday cake, or even some birthday parties, as such. It was an era of simplicity where two hard boiled eggs was all you get. I don’t remember myself going through a real birthday party, nor would I remember my sister having one. I guess we were too ignorant of the importance of birthdays. Incidentally, how important is the birthday anyway? It only reminded us we are a year older, which was fine when you are in your teens. When one gets to 40s, a birthday will only remind us the number of extra wrinkles, the problem of having to count one year less and finally, the whole idea of not wanting to remember our age.

Anyway, this is not my birthday but Sam’s. I will let her age remain a mystery but I am sure you can count the number of wrinkles on her face to make a good guess. The other mystery is her name. Sam has always been the nickname we so affectionate bestowed on her, and we continued to use the name irregardless of the other name for her. Sam is not short for Samantha but rather Sam Quat. I will not go through how the second part of her nickname came about, but I will be happy to reveal the truth if her children conveniently bribe me to a super jumbo size laksa, else my lips are sealed…….zip zip.
The other thing about this younger sister of mine is her insidious effort to make her cents worth. I don’t know which side of the genes she inherited but it will always marvel me in total astonishment every time she displays her skills. She orders her Roti Canai in the strangest way, yes the empat segi version instead of the usual circular version. Empat segi is a special order, and it has to be made to order. Instead of the mass production type, some of which ended cold and no longer flaky, you get a freshly made, baking hot roti……….all for a mere 60 cents or a little more now! She wouldn’t admit this but rather attributes it to being not so oily. I will take my hat off for her chivalric act for being so particular but I am sure she wouldn’t have it if she was the one that does the toss. Very healthy, plus her forever kurang kurang manis teh tarik. Each time I have breakfast with her, she mumbles an extra kurang. I am not over-reacting but I suspect it is age rather than health that made her mumbles another kurang. I said it before and I will say it again, for no matter how times you care to mention kurang, you will still end up with the sweetest teh tarik. That being the case, Sam will always have her means to dilute it. She asks for hot water! And you know what? Paid one, get one free.

I say no more. Happy birthday my dear sister, and may you have great health. Remember age is only a number, that is, if you can still remember it.

Postscript: Greetings from my two children who also celebrated their birthdays today.

A Connoisseur of Bak Kut Teh

Most of my early memories about, places I heard and have been, places I heard and never been, or places I have never heard and never been, have a singular commonality. And, that is their names! Last weekend, I did what I am notoriously famous for…yes, I brought my two golden oldies out for a breakfast to a place I thought was “Su Li Li”, or “Solily”, or even “Solili” whichever fitted the pronunciation of the day. I have no idea, of course (in hindsight), the real name of this place until I was confronted with the ever educational Malaysian highway signboard. It indicated “Tg. Sedili”, and you can imagine the surprise on my face, that after so many years of being misled by some idiotic assumptions on the mispronunciation of the name of a rustic town in my very own state.

Anyway, to put things in a better perspective, I have never been to this place, I must admit even though it is like some 100 kms from my hometown. Neither has my mum. The only person claiming to have a vague but brief visit to that town was my father. I say vague because my dad never fails to amaze me with his mental and memory prowess. Vague means he knows every bends and junctions, and detailed meant he can direct you over kampong roads and meanders you to the destination. With that, we set out to savour the infamous Bak Kut Teh of Sedili.

The place, or rather the “restaurant”, is in the middle of nowhere, I bet you with my last dollar that you will never believe any person with the right frame of entrepreneur mind would ever spare thought of opening business there. It is like….hmmm oil palms tree, narrow roads, and in the middle of nowhere…I know I will start a Bak Kut Teh business here!!! Where on earth do you find your patronage? I still don’t understand how this silly tawkay found a convincing reason to suggest it will be profitable venture. It is either he is mad, yup cuckoo enough to enter Tampoi mental hospital, or he has a crystal ball to read the future potentials. Anyway, the place is packed with people under the comfort of an attap roof, with only ventilation provided by a few grandfather’s fan, and yes those fans are old enough to be housed in the museum.

The Bak Kut Teh, I have to admit is indeed deliciously nice and meaty. I am not the official connoisseur, I am afraid that honour must go to my old man. Sitting down, looking at him sipping the thick soup and chewing the meat with his remaining teeth was a sheer joy, despite having the discomfort of fanning yourself to tone down the perspiration. Every mouthful is the same old remarks…good…good…fresh…not boney. I believe those remarks were genuinely uninhibited compliments, judging from the way he left his lips and cheek stained with thick soya sauce. Somehow, I do feel good looking at him savour every mouthful of the delicacy, albeit his clumsiness in table etiquette. But who cares, if it is good, it should be eaten in this manner! Say what you may, but I can’t see the difference between Bak Kut Teh and durian fanatics! Both have the same attributes, eat clumsily and enjoy the taste first lah.
After that late late breakfast (hey, it is a long way to nowhere!), my two golden oldies unanimously requested a trip to Tg. Sedili, to which I obligingly agreed. It was another 25 km drive, and it was then I discovered mum had no idea where this place was, and dad could paint the minutest details of the place he visited 40 over years ago. And he was right; Sedili is a rustic sleepy town with only short stretch of really old houses. Surprisingly the place is more Chinese even though it was meant to be a Malay kampong. We made a long trip there, only the exit without stopping. I can’t say I have done enough for my old folks but seeing them chatting happily throughout the journey is something different from the daily squabbles over little things. They were in coherence through and through, which I should say is a rarity. I guess one today is worth two tomorrows is perhaps the best way to sum up this rather adhoc trip. I hope one day, in years to come, my offspring will also reciprocate this gesture to me, and I am sure by then I will know how to pronounce and spell Sedili correctly.

Loyar Loyar

If ever I was young again. If ever I was given a second chance in my life. If ever I were to re-live the good old days again, I will brace myself for a law degree. How nice if life were to grant me another chance to do it all over again. How very nice that I will be paid to speak my heart’s content, even when it is complete utter nonsense and still be paid to shut my mouth as well!
And yes, I am proud to say my nephew graduated with a double degree, BA and B. Law, this Wednesday. He is the first in the family to have undergone the law course, and I am sure he will not be the only one. There is another one emerging over the horizon. Which begs the question, what does it take to be a lawyer? Will the square nerds in your class make it to be the very top barrister? Or, could it be the lot that tell lies, brags and make unimaginable excuses that will eventually end up as a lawyer? I will leave it to your imaginations and opinions. To me, you need to be gutsy enough to tell a lie and then live with the lie without any guilt in your own conscience at all. I am not saying my nephew belongs to that category but I suspect he is near enough to be admitted.

Or, should I say, they are 'willing to distort' the truth and gives everyone a perception that they have argued within the context of the law of the day, 'twist the punctuations' to validate their argument? To be fair, they are being paid to confuse ordinary folks like you and me. And to be even fairer, with a fee they can make your day. Cool, isn’t it?
Having said all these, lawyers do ask the dumbest and obvious questions. It is according to the law, they argued, but when you look at it as a layman, hey presto it sounds pretty stupid!

a. Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know about it until the next morning?
b. The Washington Monument, is it in Washington DC?
c. Your youngest child is twenty one, how old is he?
d. Were you present when your photo was taken?
e. Were you alone, or by yourself?
f. Was you or your friend who was killed in the backstreet that evening?
g. You weren’t there at the time of the murder, is that true?
h. She had two children, both were boys. Were there any girls?
i. The suspect is medium height and had a beard, is he male or female?
J It is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law somewhere.

Guess I have made my points. I am not a sour-grape, and it never crossed my mind to belittle them. As I said before, they are being paid to speak utter nonsense, at least it sounds like it to me. I mean, really, these are the same people who are pass their “Inns of Court” and henceforth could really sound contradictory, especially when what they are saying now may go completely opposite in another case.

And my dad would probably say, “One of my grandsons is a liar …errr…..loyar now.” Haizzzz…….I wished I too was a lawyer…….in my dreams, perhaps. Or, should I say I leave this unfulfilled dream to my son. How does it sound to you, little Abel?

有空來坐坐

I have only one word to describe my life over the last two weeks, and that is, TIRING. I was zipping in and out, working over the weekends to fit my schedules, and without a day’s break. I must really be getting old because the once young body is beginning to feel the tiredness creeping. And it was over dinner, in Cambodia, that my close friend asked this simple question…. “Do you have any regrets in your life so far?” I don’t have an answer to his rather innocent question, but I do know, for sure, I will never win the British Open Golf championship no matter how hard I may try. And I also know I will not become the Prime Minister of my home country, ever! Not that I am hard-up to become the First Citizen, I simply know I will never achieve it come what may.

As I board on the plane to Hong Kong that quiet evening, and after the initial scrabbling and commotion of seats by fellow travelers, I knew I found the answer to my friend’s simple question. It was found in the lyrics of a Mandarin song. I may not be Chinese educated but having stayed in Hong Kong for 17 years; I can claim to have achieved a certain proficiency in understanding and reading the characters.

And here is it, to the many others like me out there, finding an excuse of what to do with life and what the journey usually entail.
朋友越來越多　但是寂寞並不因此而少一點
屋子裡如果沒有朋友來
就好像感覺自己孤伶伶的　站在十字路口一樣
窗外車水馬龍　我的朋友們
想必也在裡面穿梭不息吧
而生活又不情願只有一種感覺而已
上班　只是另一種舞台
平凡　但真實的

當然　寂寞並不代表空虛　
在某些時候　避免不了的寂寞
可以讓自己赤裸裸的面對自己
想一想 我曾經獲得了甚麼？
失去了甚麼？正在追求甚麼？
而答案　往往是在朋友來了之後
在開懷暢敘之間　浮印得更清晰
而心情　也往往在朋友走了之後
才莫名的安定下來

大家都忙吧
連彼此真誠的相互關懷一下　也要抽個空
也許這就是我們共同的悲哀吧
朋友　真的希望　有空來坐坐

朋友你是否還寂寞
有甚麼傷心話還沒有說
請你有空來坐坐　來坐坐

朋友　明天要往哪走
我們都把作夢的時間　用的太久
沒有空執著　沒時間掌握


一杯紅茶　幾句實話　勝過那穿腸烈酒
歲月不曾改變甚麼　只能夠盡興的生活
朋友　煩惱 是這麼多
我們　每個人都在承受請你
有空來坐坐　有空來坐坐

朋友　你是否還執著
有甚麼心事讓你不敢說
請你有空來坐坐　來坐坐


朋友　明天要往哪走
我們都把作夢的時間　用的太久
沒有空執著　沒時間掌握

一杯紅茶　幾句實話　勝過那穿腸烈酒
歲月不曾改變甚麼　只能夠盡興的生活
朋友　夢想 是這麼多
我們　每個人都在追求
請你　有空來坐坐　有空來坐坐

Enough said. I like to borrow James Frey's A Million Little Pieces to sum it up. The perspective of how things look through different colored lenses and how one person's reality may be another person's fairy tale. To me, it is "我曾經獲得了甚麼？失去了甚麼？正在追求甚麼?"

Oh...my love, my darling........

This is not my imagination. It was actually from a close friend of mine. Interesting, outrageous, subtle but every inch of it paints a true picture.

(1) Fine: This is the word women use to end an argument when they are right and you need to shut up.
(2) Five Minutes: If she is getting dressed, this means a half an hour. Five minutes is only five minutes if you have just been given five more minutes to watch the game before helping around the house.
(3) Nothing: This is the calm before the storm. This means something, and you should be on your toes. Arguments that begin with nothing usually end in fine.

(4) Go Ahead: This is a dare, not permission. Don't Do It!
(5) Loud Sigh: This is actually a word, but is a non-verbal statement often misunderstood by men. A loud sigh means she thinks you are an idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you about nothing. (Refer back to # 3 for the meaning of nothing.)
(6) That's Okay: This is one of the most dangerous statements a women can make to a man. That's okay means she wants to think long and hard before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake. (7) Thanks: A woman is thanking you, do not question, or faint. Just say you're welcome. (I want to add in a clause here - This is true, unless she says 'Thanks a lot' - that is PURE sarcasm and she is not thanking you at all. DO NOT say 'you're welcome' . that will bring on a 'whatever').

(8) Whatever: Is a woman's way of saying F**K YOU!
(9) Don't worry about it, I got it: Another dangerous statement, meaning this is something that a woman has told a man to do several times, but is now doing it herself. This will later result in a man asking 'What's wrong?' For the woman's response refer to # 3.

But whatever woman you may choose to share your life, please do not forget what you have promised her. In case, you haven't caught the whole picture, perhaps a word or two from old Shakespeare will refresh some of your old promises.

Did my heart love till now?
Forswear it sight. For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night ==== "Romeo and Juliet"

Bring Your Own Bag

The future of waste disposal has finally arrived. And it stinks. I asked myself this simple question, since when is Hong Kong so environmentally conscious? I am not so sure the general public is prepared to embrace the government calls to support the trend. I say this because many many years ago, my mum used to bring a bamboo basket to shop in the market. Everything included, you will find vegetables, fish and meat all in her Pandora’s basket. Yes, in those days people use to wrap everything with old newspaper. Now if you look back, people then have the notion of shaping a better world. You have a basket to be filled with the day’s food. You also have newspaper undergoing the ‘recycled’ phase, you read, and then you use it to wrap meat or fish. Sounds good, isn’t it? That was well before the damn western world invented PLASTIC.

And, as if without any of us noticing it, plastic inventories dominate the mummy’s market. Think about it, you have to use plastic for almost everything you do these days. And then, just when we got used to using plastic, the damn western world made another amazing discovery. Yes, plastic are non bio-degradable. Which in theory will still remain plastic, (ok, dirtier plastic) in the landfill sites.
What I don’t understand, and I always have this puzzling thoughts, is why Hong Kong has taken so long to react? I remember the supermarkets in UK were charging me 4 penny for each bag I used then. Then, meaning 20 years ago! And 4 pennies is roughly equivalent to 50 cents Hong Kong. Today the same charge will be applied come 7th July 2009. I am not so sure if 50 cents per plastic bag will deter anyone from using them. I certainly won’t. Not that I couldn’t care about the extra 50 cents, but more on the issues of how the community will react to just shopping bags. What about the plastic wrappings of foods? Aren’t they the same type of plastic? Aren’t they non bio-degradable as well? If you are going to push for something, you make sure you go for the limit. What’s the point of limiting to supermarkets when the next confectionary you encounter will have plastic wrappings for your daily breads!
What about our daily lunch-box? Are they bio-degradable? What about the many other forms of plastic? Polyethylene, polythene and polystyrene….you name them.

Start counting, one person per lunch box. Is this more or less than the number of shopping plastic bags?

Not forgetting Char Siu Fan plus soup as well!

When will we learn? Perhaps going back to the days where everything is reuseable seems a better idea, Mr. HK government.

You just cannot do one and forget about other main issues. It is what we call "Some days you get the rubbish, and some days the rubbish gets back to you!"