(Courtesy of wireless@SG, this blog post is able to go up from a cafe at Clarke Quay minutes after watching the Chinese New Year fireworks... The Shanghai Mui adores the geek-friendly Singapore.)
Fireworks never fail to elicit oohs and ahhs from me, and even more so when I am not expecting them. I had unknowingly picked TCC at Clarke Quay to meet up with Mr E and it was the perfect spot when the showers of golden willows and zig-zag burst of stars came on with gusto.
But most of all, I love the new variety of fireworks this year -
Like little red doves released across my Singapore sky....
Happy New Year!
19 February 2007
12 February 2007
My charming little country
It's nice to be back in Singapore. Very nice.
And not having to work makes it even nicer.
Having days and nights at my disposal for two weeks has allowed me to enjoy the charms of my little country more than I ever had in a long time. A full-house Rachmaninoff concert, the new St James Power Station, Oosh and Cafe del Mar, blue skies, juicy big Sri Lankan crabs, super-fresh sashimi, warm sun, delicate little macarons with coffee, workouts in a nice empty gym, wireless headphones in a dentist chair, potable water, honk-less traffic, Chinese dragon dance one night followed by Indonesian dance the next morning...
My charming little country is quite cool indeed.
(Even if it gets a tad hot sometimes!)
And not having to work makes it even nicer.
Having days and nights at my disposal for two weeks has allowed me to enjoy the charms of my little country more than I ever had in a long time. A full-house Rachmaninoff concert, the new St James Power Station, Oosh and Cafe del Mar, blue skies, juicy big Sri Lankan crabs, super-fresh sashimi, warm sun, delicate little macarons with coffee, workouts in a nice empty gym, wireless headphones in a dentist chair, potable water, honk-less traffic, Chinese dragon dance one night followed by Indonesian dance the next morning...
My charming little country is quite cool indeed.
(Even if it gets a tad hot sometimes!)
24 January 2007
Hurtling towards cruelty
Office. I settled into my inbox and saw the nauseating headline on the CNN news: Executed man's head "just snapped off".
I hated the sensationalism of that headline. But yet I clicked to read the article, breakfast threatening to back up on the oesophagus as I read it. (I did stop short of clicking on the video.)
Bar Rouge. I saw midgets dressed in red John Travolta costumes, hired to dance on bar tops. I hated the gaudy objectification of a minority. But I couldn't help but steal furtive glances at their small bodies.
Shanghai Circus. The finale was »the amazing feat of 8 motorcyclists racing in a cage. As I watched them a second time, my heart thumped and prayed for them. Then, in appreciation of their boldness, I clapped as loudly as I can, even though I know I was abetting the race towards the bigger, the louder, the scarier, the more absurd, the more dangerous, the more grotesque.
Magazine. I read this artist's comment in an »exhibition write-up:
All around, it is easy to find the Bataillian instinct of wanting to stare at the sun (even though you know you shouldn't). Chinese parents who contort their children on the streets, Thai shows where women stick all sorts of things into themselves, and perhaps, even artists that purport to explore the theme of violence without falling prey to it.
Nothing is enough for us anymore. We are all hurtling towards cruelty.
* But it is not just the Chinese. The French postcard set, Les Supplices Chinois (circa 1912), apparently contains a series of images of the lingchi (凌迟) which were widely circulated among westerners. Lingchi is death by slicing. Some say that the victim should not die before he suffered more than a thousand slices, or else the executioner himself would be put to death.
I hated the sensationalism of that headline. But yet I clicked to read the article, breakfast threatening to back up on the oesophagus as I read it. (I did stop short of clicking on the video.)
φ
Bar Rouge. I saw midgets dressed in red John Travolta costumes, hired to dance on bar tops. I hated the gaudy objectification of a minority. But I couldn't help but steal furtive glances at their small bodies.
φ
Shanghai Circus. The finale was »the amazing feat of 8 motorcyclists racing in a cage. As I watched them a second time, my heart thumped and prayed for them. Then, in appreciation of their boldness, I clapped as loudly as I can, even though I know I was abetting the race towards the bigger, the louder, the scarier, the more absurd, the more dangerous, the more grotesque.
φ
Magazine. I read this artist's comment in an »exhibition write-up:
I am interested not in the violence itself but in the spectators who watch from a distance. In traditional China it was common to watch public executions, which were lively events.* This tradition has been passed down and assumed modern forms, whether watching a brouhaha in the street or enjoying cop dramas such as Oriental 110 (东方110) and Court Record (庭审纪实). I feel a lot of people watch others suffering. It has become something of a hobby.
- Shi Qing
φ
All around, it is easy to find the Bataillian instinct of wanting to stare at the sun (even though you know you shouldn't). Chinese parents who contort their children on the streets, Thai shows where women stick all sorts of things into themselves, and perhaps, even artists that purport to explore the theme of violence without falling prey to it.
Nothing is enough for us anymore. We are all hurtling towards cruelty.
* But it is not just the Chinese. The French postcard set, Les Supplices Chinois (circa 1912), apparently contains a series of images of the lingchi (凌迟) which were widely circulated among westerners. Lingchi is death by slicing. Some say that the victim should not die before he suffered more than a thousand slices, or else the executioner himself would be put to death.
23 January 2007
13 January 2007
06 January 2007
Our victory from 1968
3.30 am, Nanjing Lu
0 degrees, ears cold.
No warm wisp of breath in sight.
3.40 am, Xikang Lu
The women are out on the streets - solo.
Walking home,
Selling noodles,
Manning the convenience store.
Is that our victory from 1968?
3.45 am, Xinzha Lu
Sober from the cold,
Lucid from the walk.
The men are asleep
(even the security guard)
But the women are awake.
0 degrees, ears cold.
No warm wisp of breath in sight.
3.40 am, Xikang Lu
The women are out on the streets - solo.
Walking home,
Selling noodles,
Manning the convenience store.
Is that our victory from 1968?
3.45 am, Xinzha Lu
Sober from the cold,
Lucid from the walk.
The men are asleep
(even the security guard)
But the women are awake.
03 January 2007
Right foot, wrong eye!
Played my first game of squash in Shanghai (and at 9 am at that for a sleepyhead like me) after arriving for 5 months. Starting the new year on the right foot, I thought to myself as I patted my imaginary shoulders.
Then this guy comes along to the squash court behind us, and in the tiny rest area between the two squash courts, starts changing out of his streetwear. For most people who wear their sports gear beneath their jackets and track pants, this is fine. But as I was picking up the ball and walking back to serve, I saw this guy strip to his bare skin at the top. (No, he was no hunk.)
Raise one eyebrow. Never mind, somebody's feeling hot, and maybe I missed the news that 2007 is the year of liberation.
A few more strokes and I missed the ball again. As I picked up the ball a second time, I saw this guy stripped to his briefs.
??
Wait a minute, is it now acceptable to treat a rest area like a men's room? Did I just sleep 2 decades away in the night? Sure, you have funky black briefs with sparkly silver stripes across, but seriously,we don't need to know that...
Starting the new year on the right foot, but certainly on a wrong eye...
Then this guy comes along to the squash court behind us, and in the tiny rest area between the two squash courts, starts changing out of his streetwear. For most people who wear their sports gear beneath their jackets and track pants, this is fine. But as I was picking up the ball and walking back to serve, I saw this guy strip to his bare skin at the top. (No, he was no hunk.)
Raise one eyebrow. Never mind, somebody's feeling hot, and maybe I missed the news that 2007 is the year of liberation.
A few more strokes and I missed the ball again. As I picked up the ball a second time, I saw this guy stripped to his briefs.
??
Wait a minute, is it now acceptable to treat a rest area like a men's room? Did I just sleep 2 decades away in the night? Sure, you have funky black briefs with sparkly silver stripes across, but seriously,we don't need to know that...
Starting the new year on the right foot, but certainly on a wrong eye...
01 January 2007
Ciao 2006
Having decided not to pay the exorbitant 450 - 900 RMB (S$90-180) for entry into a bar, I decided to cook up a storm for people who were willing to brave it:
Soup of the Day
Piping-Hot Miso Soup
Chilled Amuse Bouches
Hmong Fish Sauce Noodles
Japanese Zaru Soba
Chinese Vermicelli with Sha Cha Sauce
Entrees
Out-of-the-Pot Spaghetti in Tomato and Mushroom Base
Singaporean Beef Rendang
Desserts
Lizzy's Amazing Fudge
Lizzy's Even More Amazing Ambrosia
Nibbles
Ross' Gorgeous Cheese, Olives and Breadstick Platter
Jose's Spanish Olives and Anchovies
Nightcap
Fireworks in the taxi on the way to the bund
A beautiful walk down the river for the buildings that kept their lights on for us
Topped off with gin and tonic when the lights went out...
28 December 2006
The subsea dragon
We never think about subsea cables
Until we are left with only 1% internet access for 2 days and still counting.
We never think about Skype or phone card alternatives
Until it takes 8 tries to get 1 decent Paris-Shanghai phone call.
(And that is after abandoning Skype.)
We never think about Taiwan
(or Tibet or Myanmar or East Timor for that matter)
Until the subsea dragon lashes out in protest.
Until we are left with only 1% internet access for 2 days and still counting.
We never think about Skype or phone card alternatives
Until it takes 8 tries to get 1 decent Paris-Shanghai phone call.
(And that is after abandoning Skype.)
We never think about Taiwan
(or Tibet or Myanmar or East Timor for that matter)
Until the subsea dragon lashes out in protest.
23 December 2006
I love Shanghai at the turn of the corner
Most of the time, I like Shanghai.
(On a few occasions, I hate it.)
But some days, I really just fall in love with this city.
Days like this, when I stumble upon an exhibition,
in my favourite building on the Bund.
Art, vibrancy, Absolut Lomo.
Shanghai with a surprise at the turn of the corner -
That's my Shanghai.
(On a few occasions, I hate it.)
But some days, I really just fall in love with this city.
Days like this, when I stumble upon an exhibition,
in my favourite building on the Bund.
Art, vibrancy, Absolut Lomo.
Shanghai with a surprise at the turn of the corner -
That's my Shanghai.
19 December 2006
This night of 20th December
This night of 20th December, the gazelle felt a little three-legged.
Returning to her savannah, a "Welcome back home!" greeted her in cheerful melancholy.
She staggered a little, finally able to stagger in the solitude of her own savannah after a whole day of striding. Out in the wild, striding was the only honourable way to walk, even if you are three-legged.
The gazelle staggered a few more steps towards the white haystack. But she forgot what she should have remembered before collapsing into it - the lingering scent of the lion in the haystack. (This gazelle has an incredible memory of smell. Smells for her are like the taste of madeleines for Proust.)
The scent that floated towards her was both comforting and debilitating at the same time. She could not even stagger anymore now. She burrowed her head into the softness of the haystack for a long time.
At long last, the gazelle got up and looked around. The savannah was lingering with the lion's presence. She decided to graze on some fresh grass. The nightingales decided to sang.
It was the lion's Bach in the solitude of the night.
Returning to her savannah, a "Welcome back home!" greeted her in cheerful melancholy.
She staggered a little, finally able to stagger in the solitude of her own savannah after a whole day of striding. Out in the wild, striding was the only honourable way to walk, even if you are three-legged.
The gazelle staggered a few more steps towards the white haystack. But she forgot what she should have remembered before collapsing into it - the lingering scent of the lion in the haystack. (This gazelle has an incredible memory of smell. Smells for her are like the taste of madeleines for Proust.)
The scent that floated towards her was both comforting and debilitating at the same time. She could not even stagger anymore now. She burrowed her head into the softness of the haystack for a long time.
At long last, the gazelle got up and looked around. The savannah was lingering with the lion's presence. She decided to graze on some fresh grass. The nightingales decided to sang.
It was the lion's Bach in the solitude of the night.
03 December 2006
Five degrees Celsius
Five degrees Celsius
Naked ears cold
Woollen neck warm.
Sunlight streaming through the leaves
Water dripping in the distance
I take each step,
Mindful
Mindful
Mindful.
The calf muscle awakes,
Yawns,
Then sets in motion:
Right –
Heel, arch, toes
Left –
Heel, arch, toes.
I stop in front of the cockroach
Shape barely discernible
Now a cold empty shell.
I close my eyes in prayer:
One day
We shall be Buddhas together.
The meditation bell chimes
The cold air reverberates
Three birds flutter through the sky.
One deep breath
Two gentle smiles.
28 November 2006
Response to a taunt from Boris Vian via the mafia
« Le travail est probablement ce qu'il y a sur cette terre de plus bas et de plus ignoble. Il n'est pas possible de regarder un travailleur sans maudire ce qui a fait que cet homme travaille, alors qu'il pourrait nager, dormir dans l'herbe ou simplement lir »
Boris Vian
Mocking at me
Tired little Asian eyes
Too small now to be seen
Not reading L'Écume des Jours
Not hearing Duke Ellington
All because
Tomorrow starts 06:15.
French-cuff shirt fresh off the tailor
Pink on pink cuff links
Gray skirt, matching horsehair heels
They now seem
My sole raison d'etre
For work.
27 November 2006
After fake eggs... now fake alcohol
So I thought fake eggs were already the most incredible thing in China... until I got really sick on Friday night from drinking at - check this out - the reputable Bar Rouge at Bund 18.
It was the first time I got so sick from drinking. I threw up big time on Friday, spent all of Saturday in bed head spinning and nauseous like anything, and basically couldn't think about eating anything till 9 pm. And even then, it was just flat bread and water.
A couple of people tried to diagnose my plight: "Ohh, mixing wine and hard liquor is not good", "maybe it was mixing vodka, bourbon etc together", or "you just drunk too much too fast"... But the point is this was not the first time I have had wine at dinner and cocktails further down the night. But it was definitely the sickest I have ever been from drinking. (And you folks know I hold my liquor quite well, so it can't be that.)
Revelation just now when I met Ms O for dinner (she was equally sick, but had been more sick before) - the alcohol was fake. (Read more »here or try googling for "fake / counterfeit alcohol china".) And no, it doesn't just happen at underground speakeasies in the 1920s. Even if the 80% of bars quoted by some is an exaggeration, the average is still probably about 50-70% - which includes perfectly reputable bars like Bar Rouge.
Welcome to China! (And keep me away from the alcohol for a while...)
Tip: A good remedy to feel better (I was so desperate that I asked my ayi for a folk remedy when she came over on Sat) is to drink vinegar. Sounds terrible, but balsamic vinegar doesn't taste so bad and you can dilute / add sugar to it if you want. It worked for me and looking it up on the internet, it is quite a popular remedy. About 30 - 50 ml of vinegar - spread it out a few times if you can't swallow it.
It was the first time I got so sick from drinking. I threw up big time on Friday, spent all of Saturday in bed head spinning and nauseous like anything, and basically couldn't think about eating anything till 9 pm. And even then, it was just flat bread and water.
A couple of people tried to diagnose my plight: "Ohh, mixing wine and hard liquor is not good", "maybe it was mixing vodka, bourbon etc together", or "you just drunk too much too fast"... But the point is this was not the first time I have had wine at dinner and cocktails further down the night. But it was definitely the sickest I have ever been from drinking. (And you folks know I hold my liquor quite well, so it can't be that.)
Revelation just now when I met Ms O for dinner (she was equally sick, but had been more sick before) - the alcohol was fake. (Read more »here or try googling for "fake / counterfeit alcohol china".) And no, it doesn't just happen at underground speakeasies in the 1920s. Even if the 80% of bars quoted by some is an exaggeration, the average is still probably about 50-70% - which includes perfectly reputable bars like Bar Rouge.
Welcome to China! (And keep me away from the alcohol for a while...)
Tip: A good remedy to feel better (I was so desperate that I asked my ayi for a folk remedy when she came over on Sat) is to drink vinegar. Sounds terrible, but balsamic vinegar doesn't taste so bad and you can dilute / add sugar to it if you want. It worked for me and looking it up on the internet, it is quite a popular remedy. About 30 - 50 ml of vinegar - spread it out a few times if you can't swallow it.
Tango on a misty bund
Lips tasting velvety gelato
Ears hearing animated Italian
Eyes seeing passionate tango
Heart, undulating.
20 November 2006
What's been keeping me from my blog and yours
(A) Technical reason
So a few of you have been asking me - ehh, don't see you much on your / my blogs anymore. The reason is the Great Chinese Firewall. It has put a real dampener on my blogging since (a) I had to spend a few days googling for good, alternative (read: convoluted) solutions to blog around the firewall, and (b) I now have to implement these convoluted and limiting means every time I blog. Your blogs are also being kept track of through equally convoluted methods, but you won't be seeing any comments from me for a while, because the comment function requires logging into Blogger Beta and Blogger Beta is a denied site. The best thing is that the Blogger customer support is in denial that Blogger Beta can have a problem when classic Blogger is okay. I now feel penalized for having switched over to Beta... Sigh.
(B) Social reason
Okay, I concede - there is also a social reason. Having made a conscious decision recently to meet more people and get into the nightlife of Shanghai, the month of November has been filled up with social and arts events, which I am quite happy about. The only thing is that in between going out, cooking, sleeping and calling my mum, there isn't much time left for blogging...
12 November 2006
The A&J Party
I have been toying with the idea of doing a block party for a while now to get to know the neighbours. It finally materialized yesterday and was a fabulous success. Some party stats:
Opening hour: 8 pm
Closing hour: 3 am
No. of represented households from this building: 12
No. of countries represented: 13 at last count
No. of empty wine bottles: 10++
No. of empty beer cans / bottles: *burp* Sorry, the beer-chuggers lost count ;)
Highest number of people in the room at a single point: Probably 30 (Thankfully, my fear of people having to sit on the toilet bowl / in the bathtub didn't materialize ;) But why was everyone crowded at the door?)
Proportion of neighbours to friends-of-neighbours: 65:35
Status of trash bin on the 14th floor by 3 am: VERY FULL
It had been a busy day being Ms Dalloway, making sure the laksa cooked properly and that there were enough flowers, candles, wine glasses, alcohol, nibbles... But very well worth the effort indeed.
08 November 2006
This is a country without religion for 40 years
A few days ago, I read a NYT article about the adoption system in Guatemala being abused. I emailed the article to Y and asked aloud:
What does one do in a world where trust, charity and goodwill are abused? This is a very prevalent problem in China - you never know what is real and who is honest here - and I am trying very hard to find a robust rule of thumb to live by.
I had an oxymoronic thought the other day: communist China is probably the most capitalist country of all. Living here, you get the tingling vibes that as a people, as a culture, people are driven by only profit and self-interest. My cousin who has been doing business in China for the past 15 years, put it very pithily to me when he first visited me in Shanghai: "You must remember, this is a country without religion for 40 years. They do not believe in retribution."
That was the first time I have heard it being said that way. It is a simple, but a surprisingly powerful way to explain the phenomena. A more sophisticated, and possibly less controversial manner of saying it might be to put it in the context of game theory: they do not believe in repeated games. The sub-optimal equilibrium of the prisoner's dilemma has reared its ugly head: it is every man to his own.
In the world of no tomorrow, civic-mindedness, ethics and honour do not matter. Who cares if I cut someone's queue or swerves into someone's lane? Self-interest rules. Who cares if I am selling fake DVDs, fake teapots, fake eggs, fake milk powder... I have made all the money and I have no music to face. Who cares if I continuously prey on others' charity by begging on the roads with my baby? Sorry, you said honour meant what again?
The first case needs no rule of thumb; it just requires accustomization, maybe a dash of oblivion for company.
For the second, I have decided that outside of groceries, it is a matter of "pay what you would pay for, never mind real or fake". (For groceries, you just try to shop at the nicer Japanese* supermarkets, and keep your fingers crossed that the Japanese have not lost their native obsession with quality.) It is no use paying too high a price for things in China, unless you are really a conoisseur on "quality". They are so glib, so convincing, that PVC turns into leather and horse hair into cashmere. It is a depressing way to lead life, and a downward spiral - but there is no tomorrow right?
The last case is the one that gets me. I have consistently failed to find a robust response with respect to the phenomenon of begging. For now, I have decided that I will give to whoever I come across.** Partly because begging is not that prevalent in Shanghai (so I'm not innundated), partly because it is just 1 RMB (so my wallet is not dented). I figured that even if I am fleeced half the time, at least the other half of the time, I would have contributed to a warm bun for some hungry soul.
Yes, I know. I can hear the economists whispering in the background now: "But you forget that the world is a dynamic system and iterations come into play; You are feeding the begging phenomenon with your multiple 1 RMBs."
I know. I did not forget. I know my rule of thumb assumes a static system, but I can find no other conscionable way to live in as bipolar a place as Shanghai.
There, my first sobering entry on China. Life is not all glittering, not even in Shanghai.
--------------------------------
* I really love the French, but sorry, Carrefour is a mess here in my experience. Even Parkson from Malaysia is a much more pleasant shopping experience.
** Unless they are (a) outrightly healthy and really should not be begging, or (b) plying cars in the middle of the road (this is too much of an emotional blackmail - Shanghai roads are so merciless - and somehow I feel I cannot condone it).
05 November 2006
Tongli
Day trip out to Tongli, a charming little water town 1.5 hours outside of Shanghai. Gorgeous weather, great company, plenty of laughter... It was worth waking at 8.30 am on a Sunday for.
Am now having only random access to Blogger thanks to what looks like another clamp-down on blogs... Will try to post more pictures once I figure out how to get around it.
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