Go going gone

2 eyes+2 hands=2 mobile phones - click for larger view

Friends, since it's that time of the year, ampulets present here a picture to cheer you on as you make your resolutions! Have a safe, joyous new year!

(I drew this lady this afternoon on my way back to the office after a trip to the dentist. That's what 2005 gave me - my first tooth cavity projected large on a TV screen.)

ring wraiths

Gimme that ring now or I'll stab you

OK, so I had griped about the hassle of having to go through a wedding here. But I admit that there are some definite up-sides to having a wedding.

One of them is having a reason to walk into all these fancy snazzy jewellers in our T-shirts and trucker caps, peer into the display cases (hands shielding our eyes of course), before we sigh and walk out of the shop in disappointment, "oh well, too bad, there's nothing we like".

I guess we knew, walking into these shops, that we would never find anything we like. But we did it anyway - a mix of curiosity, adventure and desperation.

There was Tiffany - dear me, it's so dull I wonder how Ms Golightly could finish breakfast without falling asleep! Then followed Larry, Flower, Cartier etc - places where we did not buy anything simply because it would be too crass for us to be showing our wealth. Of course. And finally, in a dark shop tucked away at the corner of the Paragon Shopping Mall, its entrance proudly displaying 3 security panels and a shop name neither of us could pronounce, we had this exchange -

Y: Hmmm... [looking at some diamonds meant actually for some pooch]
J: Hmmm... [looking at the white mod furniture in an otherwise velvety black room]

One of the salespersons exits a hidden doorway and almost walks into J. She gasps, partly from the shock of bumping into someone, and partly at finding a goateed man in T-shirt and jeans on their carpet. But composing herself quickly, she walked to the end of the room where her colleague was standing by a display case, bathed in the most precious of reflections.

Saleslady: [smiling slightly] How can I help you?
J: We're looking for rings.
SL: Oh, here we have our latest designs.
Y: Hmmm...[tiptoes to check out the rings - yes, us peasant stock are more Hobbit-like]
J: Er, not bad...but do you have other rings?
SL: Is there something in particular that's you are looking for?
J & Y: Men's rings!
SL: We have a few over here.
J: Oh. Do you have something more...elaborate?
SL: Oh no, that's all we have. Men's designs are usually more plain, like this.
J: That's the problem.

We thanked the sales assistant before sighing, "oh well, too bad, there's nothing we like."

But the other upside is not only finally finding the ring, but getting to make a new friend in the process!


a choker from argentum's spring/summer05 collection

Exasperated by our fruitless search, G recommended that we check out argentum by Singaporean designer Shing. We liked what we saw on her website so much we immediately arranged to meet her this evening at her workshop.

And we were charmed...especially J - by both the artist and her work. It was a fun 3-hour chat. She showed us her personal and commissioned work, and we got a pair of "stand-in" rings we could use for the solemnisation ceremony since it's likely she would only have the time to make us something later.

It's always good meeting folks who are not only talented, but so unassuming and open. With them, there's always something to learn, and stories to trade. And in this case, not just one, but possibly two pairs of rings to eventually come home with.

===============
About Argentum
Her new website is here. But you can see some of her earlier works at this blog, and at this site.

Rich Man Poor Man

Cover & title page - inside pages are below

J caught up with an old friend from his Secondary School over the Christmas break and was recommended by the well-meaning millionaire to read Rich Dad Poor Dad. I may be wrong, but somehow I remember quite a few people seemed to have recommended this title to J too. Do we appear so financially unwise?!?.

I haven't read the book. Neither has J. I doubt we'll ever read it.

To compensate for our deliberate ignorance (and a Christmas present that I thought wouldn't arrive in time from Amazon), I quickly made a tiny accordian book over Christmas for J with its own fancy rich velvet cover and gold letters. Eh, expensive-looking. As such, it's most appropriately titled Rich Man Poor Man, a picture story very loosely adapted from that Stone Soup story you too must have read and loved when you were a kid.

With J's permission, since it's technically still his prezzie (yes, the Amazon package was faithfully delivered in the drizzle!), I'll scan the pages from the little book later tonight and put it up here.

p/s - Here it is! But I cut off some of the text in the scanning...well, it's not a complex story. Click on the image for a larger view in flickr.

Present

I told you money grows on trees!

This is J's Christmas present to me.

Grim image huh? (I like it - of course! especially in its thick gold frame._

Click on the image for a larger pic...and to read melancholic J's explanation.

it's about the 2 of you, really

lazy psychedelia

Yah, rrright.

There are 2s alright, but note the plural, the collective in that. 2 families, their desires and assumptions. 2 extended sets of relatives, colleagues and friends. And 2 objectives, namely yours and your family's. Yours (if like J and I, you are also very lazy and have a general dislike for rituals) will be to just get this whole thing over and done with, with everyone having as relaxing and enjoyable a time as possible. While your folks' concerns, despite all good intentions and well wishes, will be to tread successfully the minefield of relatives and their sensitivities. This, the Chinese call, maintaining "face".

In such a situation, lazy us will typically opt for the path of least resistance - i.e. give the folks what they want. But we stand firm on these things which are way too personal for compromises.
1. No expensive diamond rings - why does a girl/boy need diamonds?
2. No wedding costumes, white or ivory - it's not halloween, we'll come as ourselves, thank you. And ditto for guests (although if costumes are your thing, please feel free to come in whatever pleases you). Oh yes, this means there'll be no multiple costume changes throughout the day.
3. No bouquets. Sorry, if you are waiting to catch one.
4. No pre-wedding photographs with dewy-eyed poses or sepia-tinged romance. Hey, we're hobbyist-illustrators, we can do our own portraits anytime.
5. No transportation decked out as national day floats.
6. No marching down aisles or whatever. But we'll be there!

We've only just started thinking about it, and it already seems like too much work!

So friends, sorry if these t-shirts and stuff we had earlier promised for Christmas are a little late in production.

Stressed?

Reading the newsadvertisement papers

I was reading about stress in the Sunday Papers, and this bit caught my eye. Commenting on how folks who are poor suffer higher levels of stress, a doctor then qualified his remarks by saying that in a fairly affluent Singapore, poverty is not so much an absolute but a relative concept. In order words, it's those who feel themselves poor when compared to their peers who are likely to feel most stress.

How warped can it be, this materialistic, competitive, consumerist, absolutely silly island life.

J: All the handphones I've ever owned are always the most in-between models.
Y: What do you mean?
j: You know, neither the top of the range nor the cheapest.
Y: Oh, I see. So?
J: Like my camera. My laptop. My toys. Everything.
Y: Everything? Like your life? Like me?
J: .... you wouldn't understand.
Y: Yes, because I only get the best? Like you?

OK, in reality the conversation didn't go this far (artistic licence la. Heh, sweet J's not so silly). But you get the idea. Friends, don't look around and start to believe those mad mad lies!

Kids and their Books

That's what took up our weekend.


Kids made up to be adults, from Ah Zheng

J spent the Saturday making a video for a friend's childcare centre. The kids were performing for their graduation show. And I was at a junior college class reunion where there were as many kids as adults. We don't have any complaints because, I guess you may know by now, J and I are pretty fond of kids and enjoy teasing them.

Maybe we both have romantic notions of kids = innocence...or whatever misconception people with no kids obviously have. And for this reason, making children's books is one of those things I really enjoy.

Undeterred by my failed attempt at the GoldenPoint competition, I decided on Friday - the closing date - to submit this book I made many years ago for the "First Time Writers and Illustrators Initiative" organised by the Media Development Authority. I thought hard about the category it should go under...and decided on "Fiction for Young Adults/Teens (aged 12-18)". Someone younger would certainly understand the story, but I think someone older would better appreciate the ambivalences in the book towards growing up, the city, youth and experience.


my first woodblock print was for the Cover of the book

Titled The Adventures of Ah Zhang (A Poor Boy), the book's made up of 4 short stories, each illustrated in a slightly different style. Ah Zheng is a boy the narrator finds one day seated beside an old man on a park bench in a HDB estate. From the start, I guess we never quite know if Ah Zheng's age or if he really exists - or is the narrator's own imagined, romantic image of the "poor boy" (ooh, yes, I'm the narrator!). So the 4 stories are explorations of Ah Zheng's entry into the real world that the narrator has imagined him into. And also Ah Zheng's slow descent.


The last image of the 3rd story

I like the last 2 stories best (aiyoh, I am so not modest, but this is the favourite of all the books I've made). The 3rd is about the narrator's dream, in which Ah Zheng (or a boy like him) appears in school. It's a little story about education and knowledge - and, of course, dreams. The last one is about those horrible children's karaoke competitions they have on television! Ah Zheng is lured into taking part in one by a talent scout, who had thought Ah Zheng would make a good news story. But I shan't give away the ending here.


An image from the last story, which had all kinds of "fake" woodcuts derivative of either the Japanese woodblock and the modern Chinese woodblock style that was also popular with Singapore artists in the 30s-50s

If I don't get the $8000 from this "First Time Writers & Illustrators Initiative" to publish Ah Zheng, which is most likely the case, I just might join the world of vanity publishing (see Straits Times' Saturday Special on vanity publishing. Some lady actually forked out $23k to publish her own children's book about squirrels! wah, must be very rich.). And when that happens, friends, please play along with my shameless peddling of the The Adventures of Ah Zheng (A Poor Boy).

Little Dragon Girl, we meet again!

I was 18 when I first met her, and have not seen her since. It was right after I finished my A-levels and while waiting to leave for the UK, I indulged in one of my secret aspirations - to be a salesgirl.

Then, my classmate G and I found a job that paid $40 a day. We were to sell fake flowers at a temporary bazaar at Orchard Road.

Every morning for a month, we would set up stall outside Orchard Emerald mall. We had to drag at least 30 one metre tall ceramic vases from a storeroom, and displayed the stock of plastic or cloth orchids, roses, tulips, lilies, peonies and other flowers we didn't know the names of. And for the rest of the day, G and I would stand by the cash register or assist customers with choosing and packing their fleurs en plastique. But between the lunch hour and the busy evenings, we were mostly free. So G and I would read, take turns to wander into the shopping malls, and best of all, chit chat with the other folks running the makeshift stalls around ours.

There was a gentle couple who sold their own pottery works. They made me a set of 4 tea cups which went with me to the UK, 2 of which have survived the perils of the university student's room.

And then there was the Auntie, who was also referred to jokingly as the Xiao Long Nu, literally Little Dragon Girl (aka Huang Rong, a character from Louis Cha or JinYong's famous martial arts novel 射雕英雄传, Legend of the Condor Heroes. She was the pretty, talented, rebellious and mischievous daughter of Dong Xie - Evil East - who fell in love with the highly-skilled but straight-as-an-arrow hero, Guo Jing).

Barbara Yung, who played the Huang Rong character in the 1985 Hong Kong TVB dramatisation of the book. Hers was one of the most well-loved portrayal of Huang Rong. When she killed herself soon after the series was aired, I was 11 or 12 and I remember my then best friend cried upon hearing the news.

True to her nickname, she sold Dragon Beard Candy at her stall. (I'm having to do lots of cultural translation here! Basically this is a malt sugar chunk that is "pulled" - as in the process of making noodles - so many times it ends up as feathery fine strands. These strands are then used to wrap crushed peanuts, and end up looking like bite-sized silk cocoons. Yum.). Her cart was painted red with a mock jade-green Chinese tiled roof. Her "uniform, a red, chinese-collar blouse matched the cart and her lipstick. A petite woman, she wore her hair in a bun with those long sideburns plastered down the side of her face, Chinese-opera style. I think her eyebrows are tatooed ones.

She was maybe 30, or 40. Then again, she could have been much older than that. Maybe her indeterminate age came from being so closely associated with those celestial fire-breathing creatures.

G and I would chat with her during our tea break. The content of our exchanges I no longer remember. But I remember that we were always cheerful. Those happy days of youth and invincibility!

So you can imagine my joy when I spotted her at the new Food Republic (the new 50s-themed foodcourt at Wisma Atria)! She laughed because I flattered her by saying how she has not changed (technically not flattery, since it is true). In fact, she was wearing the same red chinese-coloured blouse, the same red lipstick, and fluffy red rubber-band thing that held her hair up.


Lovely spymaster J stood at a distance and snapped a rapid series of photographs of our brief exchange that evening. J made the photographs into a short clip for your viewing pleasure! Click here if you can't view it in this window.

You can't see her clearly in the video - but oh memory, it is best you are hazy! I'm finishing up a drawing of her from what i do remember and will maybe post that later too.

can I transfer my home to you?

(warning: a long post...but if you persevere, there's a video at the end!)

The chinese word for "home" is 家 (jia1), and the chinese word for "house" is 屋 (wu1). They are clearly different, and folks who confuse the one with the other are heading for trouble! For example, while you may end up trading houses, I should hope you are not into trading homes.



Someone should point out this difference to HDB(Housing Development Board, the agency that develops public housing for over 80% of Singaporeans). On their website, its customers are classified as "home-owners" and "home-seekers".

This "mistake" is intentional.

It's no secret that Singapore's public housing policy is closely tied with our social policy. So for instance, folks who are single and under 35 are not eligible to purchase a HDB flat...lest you get complacent in the search for a mate. Of course, those who are single and over 35 are probably hopelessly unattractive any therefore deserve the consolation of a 100sqm house. For those who do find a mate but somehow come to the difficult and painful decision that a divorce is inevitable, please do so only after 5 years of marriage, otherwise the HDB will come knocking on your door to demand a rapid re-sale of your flat! If you can't keep a home, you certainly don't deserve a house. (*ampulets hope no one ever needs to go through a divorce, but given this fallen world, it happens)


view from J's bedroom window at night - photo by J

The government's reasoning, I guess, is that if all citizens own a piece of property on this island, they would be feel a greater sense of both security and belonging, hence subscribemore readily to national imperatives. Plus, it is important to get citizens to mate and reproduce. So it is beneficial for "the family" to be seen as the social equivalent of a physical property or house, since the latter is so desirable. And once citizens get into house-ownership, they will no doubt have to work the rest of their lives for the mortgage and the many furniture shoppng trips at Ikea.

But contrary to HDB's intent, mixing up "house-ownership" with "home-ownership" cheapens the idea of "home" instead. Because ultimately, a socio-political strategy is not the same as building a home. Without getting too metaphorical, I guess a majority of homes are started by 2 people who are committed to it - over time, they may welcome others to enjoy what they have built, and use it to build up other families, friends, and even strangers who miss and need whatever a home provides. Obviously, building a home is independent and a vastly different process from building and owning a house. The latter is a commodity, and I sure hope the former is not.

All this angst about HDB is because J and I have been trying to navigate the HDB bureacracy for a "home-ownership transfer". This is since J is under 35 and his co-owner had wanted out some 4 years ago, and since J and I plan to live in that flat when we do get married next year (?). So though J and I will eventually meet HDB's home=house equation, our atypical situation means that the application process is a tedious one.

But ok, end of gripe. And as promised...the video!

Remember this post about the flyers/junk mail left by house agents or folks wanting to buy a house that I collected from J's mailbox? I knew then that I would eventually find a use for this happy collection, and sure enough -

Ampulets give you here "My Home" or 买家. It's a 1min video we made one afternoon in Toa Payoh during our August break. The voiceover, for those who don't understand Mandarin, is the text from a few of the flyers I've collected. Hope you'll enjoy it!



To view it here, click on the play/pause button at the bottom left of the screen. If it does not work, click here to view it on www.youtube.com

learning to swim from Deng Xiao Ping

cover art for a non-existent book, layout is by J.

I saw some footage of Chinese leader Deng Xiaoping swimming in the sea on tv some nights ago.

It seemed that swimming in the sea was among Deng's many interests, which included watching the sports channel and playing billiards. The footage I saw was of Deng's last dip in 1992. At the age of 88, his doctors had disallowed Deng from swimming in the cold waters of Beihaide. But perhaps knowing that it would be his last, he kept up his questions such that in the end the doctors relented. They made him a special safety vest for this last swim.

In a country (Singapore, that is) on an endless push for progress and "relevance", so obsessed with "Change is the Only Constant" that it becomes a self-fulfiling prophecy, growing old can be pretty depressing.


Filial piety. "Mommy mommy, I want milk!" " You silly boy, everyone's starving, let grandma drink first!" Photo by J, tiled pic on the wall of a house at the backstreet of Little India

Going by the folk tales on aging that this guy has collated on his website, all cultures throughout history have their stories to warn against mistreating or disregarding the old. I remember this Japanese folk tale I read when I was very young, about some chap who had to piggyback his grandma up the mountain and to leave her there, because it was the practice in his village to abandon their old folks. But he couldn't bear it in the end and hid his grandma at home. I can't quite remember what happened, but grandma saved the village in the end and this practice was abolished.

All I know is that if I get to live till 88, like Deng, I would like to still be able to take a swim.
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p/s Jing is planning a photography project on old folks in Singapore, and is calling for ideas and collaboration. If you are a writer, artist or have superb planning/organisation skills, get in touch with him.

writing from the other side

It is a pity how two of our best writers (writing in English) are living overseas. There is novelist Goh Poh Seng and my favourite Singapore poet Arthur Yap.

A few days ago, I was forwarded this article that Mr Devan Nair (Singapore's third president) wrote in 1999 - "A Requiem for an Unbending Singaporean". It was about the "political death" of JBJ and possibly the Workers Party, though no doubt, Nair had a healthy sense of irony about his own political "requiem" then. A few days ago was also when Mr Nair died in Canada, where he has lived since he stepped down from the presidency. So the title of his article seems even more fitting now.

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P/S: Here are previous posts about Singapore's other past president and a wannabe president!

more or less

same train, different page - click for larger view

On the train home this evening, I stood between a man with a unicycle, and a man in a wheelchair. Not once did they make any eye contact. In fact, they stood with their backs to each other throughout the whole journey.

Wheelchair-Man: [clearing his throat loudly] Interesting ah, your bicycle.
Unicycle-Man: Oh, yah. It's a unicycle. [looks away]
WM: Must be hard to balance.
UM: Not too bad. Must practise. After a while, it's quite easy.
WM: Can go fast?
UM: OK, quite fast. Still slower than a bicycle. Haha, one wheel less so also slower than you!
WM: Ha.

There is a long silence. The train stops. The Unicycle Man steps aside for a lady to get to the door, steps back, takes off his cap and runs his hand across his head of short grey hair before putting on his cap again. He adjusts the strap of his backpack - a gigantic bright blue mail bag - takes out a comic, its pages browned with age.

The Wheelchair Man closes his eyes and keeps one hand hooked around the pole in the train cabin. The back of his neck is all liver-spotted. Like the Unicycle Man, he is tanned. They both wear waist pouches and are in their 50s. But those are about the only similarities between them. And of course, there are the wheels.

WM: It must be very hard to cycle that thing. What's the most difficult part?
UM: [takes his cap off, smooths his hair, and puts it back on ] Er, no lah, really, it's easy, quite easy...Well, I guess the only part I think that is difficult is getting on up the unicycle.
WM: Ah, yes yes, I see...getting on that thing must be very difficult.

Of course this conversation did not take place...except in my 5minute daydream as the North-South train wormed its way to Toa Payoh on a slow Tuesday evening, wondering what will be the chance of getting on a train with a man with a unicycle and a man in a wheelchair again!

Little India Rojak

go tell the world! - photo take in Little India by J, remixed by Y

Unlike J, I am not terribly fond of Rojak - a dish of deep-fried dough and dried tofu, boiled bean sprouts and pieces of cucumber, pineapple, turnip and green mango, mixed together with a gluey black prawn paste and topped with chopped peanuts.

But it was hard to refuse L&G and Tym's invite to this event, named after the dish. For one thing, it was held at a place along Starlight Road, somewhere in Little India...and how bad can someplace called Starlight Road be?. Of course, the event also promised to feature presentations by 10 artists, illustrators, designers and architects. Since J and I are always curious about seeing the stuff others do, we trooped down to Little India for the 3rd time this past week.

True to its name, the range of work spanned from the political to the personal; the prosaic to the elusive; the naive to the sophisticated. So what went into this rojak? There was Zixi's absolutely charming illustrated book, G's ingenious jewelery, the clever design of some public stands for the Merlion Park and several short films etc.

But the extremes are always the most memorable. For me, on one end of the works was Alfian Sa'at and Nicholas Li's performance piece on political videos - smart, knowing, incisive but, perhaps, unforgiving in its tone and spirit. This, I suppose, is because its subject - the use and intent of the Political Films Act - is equally unforgiving to those it censors and censures. His was a work the crowd clearly sympathised(?) with. On the other end, I found L's "Memory Units" - personal, liberating in both its form and spirit, but elliptical. I think it lost some of the crowd in its Alice-in-Wonderland pursuit [I've tried to describe the work in the postscript below! A recipe for making memory units.].


a staring match with tradition - photo taken in Little India by J, remixed by Y

I am thinking of the preface to a collection of Eileen Chang/Zhang Ailing's San Wen (short essays, 白or literally "scattered prose"), in which the editor described the early responses to this Chinese literary form. Giants like Lu Xun made the San Wen a powerful tool for societal and political change. And Lu Xun was also critical of writers who used the San Wen as a form of personal reflection and leisurely consumption. But the SanWen today is a highly diverse form - and no one prescription suffices, not even one by Lu Xun.

And in some ways, seeing all 10 10-minute presentations at Rojak is like reading 10 San wen by 10 different writers. So I thought to borrow the conclusion of that preface:

艺术是独立的,散文是个性的
(trans: art is always independent, the San Wen/Short essay is always unique/individual.)

The next Rojak is in March 2006. To find out how to take part in it, click here

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postscript
L's "Memory Units" to me is an experiment in uncovering memory and making what is intangible, ineffable into something material, discrete, literal and with form. And then freeing that physical form back into abstraction. (L, sorry if what I describe is far from what you intend!)
(1) Choose an object that means something special to you. For L, it was a music box.
(2) Each time you encounter the object (e.g. each time L opened the music box...), draw immediately what you are reminded of on a large piece of paper. Repeat this step until the entire sheet of paper is filled up.
(3) Imagine the cross section of each object you have drawn. Construct that cross-section in miniature. Insert in each cross-section the drawing of the object itself. Wrap each construct in paper and put it in a bag. Voila! Quite literally, you have memory you can uncover and carry with you.
(4) When you are happy with this whole project, take out each cross-section construct from the bag, and its paper wrapping.
(5) Piece all of them together to form one large object.
(6) Using an overhead-projector, cast the shadow of this object on the wall.
(7) Make drawings or take photographs of the shadow.
(8) Create a montage from these photographs or drawings

You know...this process can go on and on forever. But after this methodical and hectic madness, it left me conscious of something that stays incredibly still - the moment before memory gets locked into being an image in Step 1. Amidst all the busy-ness to capture, transform, understand, play and investigate memory, that was the one thing that mattered.

for richer, for poorer

Great Moment,1992: Print by Chng Seok Tin in response to Archimedes' "Give me a place to stand, and with a lever I will move the world."

Today, J and I spent our lunch break at "Blossoming of the Pomegranate: Documenting 30 Years of Chng Seok Tin's Art", curated by independent art space p-10 and Koh Nguang How. By extension it documents 30 years of Chng Seok Tin's life - and what a life!

What is important to me is not how to create pictures, but how to live.

The exhibition is timely. This year, together with pop composer Dick Lee and entertainer Jack Neo, Chng Seok Tin finally received the Cultural Medallion - Singapore's highest state accolade for culture and the arts.

She was also earlier given the Woman of the Year award in 2001. Then, in response to the laudatory remarks about her courage in continuing to make art after an accident in 1988 caused her to lose 80% of her sight, she had said:

I have no husband, no children, no car, no house; I have nothing. Don't learn from me how to be poor.

Perhaps she was smiling - so slightly - when she said this. I vaguely remember from my few very brief exchanges with her that her seemingly straightforward manner belies the humour and irony contained in many of her observations.

It is the same with her writing. Besides being an artist, Chng is also a prolific writer. I have a collection of her essays 多心眼 (trans: "the over-sensitive eye"? ironic, given her visual impairment). Though these short pieces are brisk in their expression, the observations are sometimes playful and almost always expansive.

This internal dialogue - that's what I like about Chng's work- and life? Its forthrightness. But also its contemplation. Its concerns are moral in its insistent examination of human struggle and fallibility. Yet its tone is never quite moralistic. So in her art, the individual (heart, mind, life - artist, viewer, man, woman) can be magnanimous and must be so. Yet there is also an awareness that there is something even and always greater than the most magnanimous self.

In the same way, her life can play like a dialogue between teacher and student. Chng Seok Tin is a beloved teacher of, by now, at least a couple of generations of art students; yet she is herself a fervent student, scholar. Take the start of her life in art. Though she was already a school teacher in the 70s, it was Chng's encounter with art in teachers' college and artist Tang Da Wu's encouragement that led her to be a student again in Central St.Martin. She eventually graduated with a BFA from Hull (London was too costly after a year). This meant that the Chinese-educated Chng had to acquire sufficient proficiency in English. Later, she was admitted to Atelier 17 in Paris, and completed her MA in Art history at New Mexico and an MFA at Iowa. Although she was offered a job in HK with a publishing house, she chose to return to Singapore because she saw a need for her as an art teacher.

It is therefore perhaps apt that Chng Seok Tin is best known as a printmaker. Because with print, the hand does not immediately create the image on paper. The process - to simplify - consists of 2 key parts. First, the artist marks another surface (e.g. wood, copper plate, lino) - by carving, etching, or even laying on other textured materials - creating first either a negative or positive mirror image of the final image. Next, the ink/paint that is applied on that surface is then transferred/"printed" onto the paper. Often, a complete print is made up of impressions from several different plates/prints, and several layers of colours.

I am not sure if this is entirely true (aiyah, in my desire for poetry, I would carry a metaphor too far)...The printmaker must first hold in his mind's eye the complete/final image or its closest proxy, so that in execution, he/she will be able to constuct accurately in parts and in reverse - learning to see what is dark or light, always discerning what is and what is not. But in printing the final image, the precision and discernment must contend with the sleightness of hand, and the improvisational liberty of intuition.

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p/s: Unfortunately, the show at p-10 is officially over. If you drop them a note, maybe the good folks at p-10 will open up their space for you .

it takes 2?

Epaulettes make more sense in a pair...but ampulets, well, often make less.

Friends, as such, J and I present to you 2 videos that don't have anything in common, except a fair amount of shaking. The first is my puppet-impersonator debut where nothing much happens and the supposedly red-sequinned sexy one cannot stop bopping her head -



Next, J/TOHA's trial video, a "stop-motion" of photographs taken mostly in Taipei, and with a title even I don't quite understand.


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We just discovered youtube, which hosts short clips. Oh, new toy! If the players above don't work, click here to view the first clip and here for the second clip.

Call Girl

talk to me

That's what I get to be in my debut role in a puppet performance.

OK, before you get too many funny ideas, let me just clarify that the script was about the nature of true love and the human desire for lasting relationships. It was a performance for a group of 9-16 year old students from the boys brigade. And to be precise, the puppet character was not a call-girl lah, just someone who works for a telephone chatline whom the lead puppet/character spoke to in a moment of misguided desperation. It was a brief 1-2 minute part, and despite my nervous and imprecise movements, she was still possibly the sexiest puppet ever in a red-sequinned halter-neck top!

watermelon blues (a 1min play for 2 fruits)

Y: I don't mean to be rude...but - but - were you born like this?
Watermelon Man (WM): Not really.
Y: Then what happened!?
WM: I was born, first, a watermelon in a watermelon patch. But unlike other watermelons, I grew up to be a watermelon man instead.
Y: Ah...right...
WM: Amazing huh? But my story is just like that of Pinnochio.
Y: Pinnochio?...I guess you can see it that way...
WM: You don't believe me?
Y: No, no, I mean, yes, I believe you.
[A long pause, during which WM waves a fly away.]
WM: You know that there's a movie named after me!
Y: OK.
WM: And many songs too - There's that famous tune by Herbie Hancock in the 60s. Wah, that's one great jazz hit. Catchy stuff. The drums, tetetededum...And there's some 70s song also. I don't quite understand the words, those strange 70s people. But somehow...they make me want to cry. [sings and tears, black melon seeds falling down his face]

"And it’s a new day,
Watermelons waste away,
And the sun is startin’ to rise up over the hill
But it’s all right
I haven’t lost my appetite
And you know that I’m eatin’ those wasted watermelons still
Yes, I am
And I’m a watermelon man
Yes, I’m a watermelon man."

Y: Look on the bright side, watermelon man, always. All is never lost. You could have been some other fruit...like a banana. No one will take you seriously then. Or a grape. Forever to be crushed and losing your individuality to a bunch. Or just an apple. Innocuous, yet always suspect. Worse, an orange! Imagine that. No one cares for orange as a fruit. A colour or a juice, maybe.
WM: [smiles] Or I could have just been a watermelon. Instead of a watermelon man.
Y: That's the spirit!
WM: Thanks for cheering me up, persimmon girl.

TGIF!

my days in the palace

Warning: a long post
My whole office trooped down to the Malay Heritage Centre at Kampung Gelam for a tour yesterday afternoon. The trip ended with a 5min lesson on how to weave a ketupat which, for me, resulted in this duck-like object. Oh well.



It's generally accepted that history is written by those in power - at least history as they understand it. In the case of Singapore's history, anything post-1965 assumes a well-known narrative of independence and PAP-led growth. And with the date 1819, a colonial narrative is usually told starting with the arrival of that sly British "civil servant" Raffles (who supposedly could write Jawi?! impressive).

So it is perhaps telling that when we asked our guide for more information about Sultan Hussein, his descendents and life at the Istana - there was little she could say. Or at least, little that she said which could be verified. The sultan did not leave many written documents. Neither did his descendents. And of the few documents on the Istana, most are the official ordinances, treaties, acts which the British had instituted instead -for eg, declaring the Istana crown property (hence the sultan & his descendents are, I guess, technically squatters?), dictating the annual allowances the Sultan and his family would receive etc.

This lack of literature - official or private - on the Sultanate and Istana strangely contrasts the cultural or literary going-ons on this island some 150 years ago. Believe it or not, Singapore was the centre of publishing for anything written in Jawi and romanised Malay. Poetry, romances and other fiction... How ironic that, today, we should have a whole archive full of official and historical documents, but no real publishing industry to speak of!

I was reminded by yesterday's trip of my first visit to the Istana KampungGelam. It was 1997, 2 years before the government decided that it should be restored as a Malay Heritage Centre. I had to make a 10min short as part of a film course at the substation, and so decided to make my own nostalgic romance/protest about the Istana's position in contemporary Singapore.

I interviewed a few strangers if they knew where or what was the Istana. I shot some footage outside the "real"/current Istana (President's office), and had the police come up to check what I was doing. Then with the help of an old classmate H, I planned to interview the residents of the Istana Kampung Gelam.

Friends, if you have been to the Istana before it was restored, you will know that it was basically more kampung (i.e. village) than palatial. In the middle of the compound was the 2-storey building, designed by George Coleman. The sultan's descendents had rented out the first floor and the land within the compound to more than 10 families, some of whom I think were descendents of those who had worked for the Sultan. Their single-storey homes lined the compound walls, and all around the compound were their laundry, disused furniture, children's bicycles, cats, chickens... The sultan's descendents who lived on the upper floor, ran a catering business, so their plastic chairs and other catering wares were stacked in a corner. The day we were there, the place was deserted.

H and I loitered around shooting clips of the chickens and laundry before we saw someone look out from the second floor - a young bespectacled lady with a curly bob (later we found out she was married to one of the Sultan's descendents). H asked and she agreed to speak to us and show us around the second floor...

We entered the Istana. It was mostly darkness...until we got to the second floor. I remember standing in a large and cool airy hall. In the middle was a wooden sofa set with patterned cushions. Light came in through the tall windows that lined the hall. A dancing sort of light because it was a breezy day and the curtains ( cheerful sunflower prints) were drawn over the windows.

H did most of the talking. And I recorded the short interview (but I lost the tape recorder the next day), clumsily holding in the other hand a borrowed Russian 16mm film camera. The conversation revolved mostly around what she knew about the family's history and their life in this Istana. She did not know much about the history, and seemed happy that the past did not get in the way of their daily life and business (Of course, there was a fair bit of controversy when the government took back the Istana, on grounds that it was technically state land) Then the conversation ended, and H and I went for a cup of teh tarik nearby.

Maybe one day I'll transfer the film to DV. And maybe not. Regardless, those scattered memories and images still remain. 2 images clearest in my mind are of laundry that's been left out to dry along the compound's wall, a sarong/cloth waving so slightly in the breeze; and those second-floor curtains of sunflowers, at times bleached by the sunlight and moved by the wind.

______________________________
p/s- some related links
According to this site, there are historical documents by the palace scribe. And this blogger's grandma used to live there. Here's also Alfian Sa'at's take on the Istana being turned into the Malay Heritage Centre. And if you google Istana Kampung Glam, you'll find many more articles of protest.

graffiti town

The Toa Payoh MRT station - photo by J, graffiti by Y

The Straits Times yesterday contained a 13-page special report on Toa Payoh, J's neighbourhood. The report detailed how this first public housing project in the 60s, has been "upgraded" in the last few years:

It was Singapore's first comprehensive Housing Board town, and the blueprint for many more. Then it aged, looked tired and grew unappealing. Now a $2.2bm effort is refreshing Toa Payoh, its changing landscape is attracting new residents and visitors...showing how to breathe new life into old towns. - ST, Special Report, p1

Cynical me thought It must be that elections are coming soon! After all, all the stories of Toa Payoh's residents contained in that report were cheerful ones of prosperity (the high sale value of the properties were cited, their high-end flat-screen televisions described) and contented retirement.

I guess we all want to be able to shape the environments we live in some way or other - to have that sense of agency, to be able to leave a mark. Hence the most basic form of graffiti says "XYZ was here", more crude than cave paintings! But since we can't legally mark public property with spray paint, I reckon us islanders spend lots of money dressing up our private 100sqm of public housing (hear the cash registers at Ikea!).

And I suppose in the case of Toa Payoh, the upgrading serve as a form of political graffiti - a marking of political territory.

The report gave a sliver of print to the 12 blocks of flats in Toa Payoh Lorong 8 that are under the Opposition ward of Chiam See Tong. It is obvious to any visitor which 12 blocks these are.

Mention the relative lack of upgrading and Mr Peter Tan Seng Tong,68, who owns the minimart...bristles. "We're very happy here!"

Maybe I am biased by my own romantic notions about the opposition party, but these 12 blocks of flats are, without doubt, one of the liveliest spots in Toa Payoh. Where the gardens in the rest of Toa Payoh are mostly trimmed and bear the British legacy of geometric-patterned gardens, these 12 blocks share a tiny patch of green where residents have placed random pots of plants.

OK, political-romances aside, if Toa Payoh is a lovely neighburhood to live in, it is not, as the ST report suggests, because the political markings of "upgrading" has brought it "new life". On the contrary, it is the old - whatever has been allowed to take root - that provides for its new life, organically, naturally, persistently. My favourite is this faraway tree. It's a kind of junkyard graffiti that, despite being destroyed once by upgrading, finds new life simply because whoever makes this tree continues to live there.

For me, it's Toa Payoh that has left its marks on me - these memories! I spent most of my Primary and Secondary school years there. I took my first (and only) jump off the 5m platform in the Toa Payoh swimming pool. For the past 4 years or so, there's been Lorong 8 where J lives - its corridors, BBQ wings, kids and cats. And every weekday morning now, I get off the train at the Toa Payoh MRT station to wait for J on our way to work. So to reciprocate its generosity, I leave on Toa Payoh the virtual graffiti above. :)

bright-eyed

image by J

Look closer here... - J

making music

coloured with my new Intuos! Sketch of a band we heard in Taipei's "legendary" Witch Cafe

I've always thought that if you threw together a bunch of creative and talented folks from different disciplines, you'll get a real lively collaboration and discussion - you'll get music.

But, boy, am I wrong.

I spent the morning today at the "Beyond 2005: Reinvent Your Future - Global Summit for the Creative Industries". Yes, yes, whatever that mouthful means! It is, after all, sponsored by the government - hence the cheesy, insecure title. It was a strange mix of speakers - first the Minister spoke (yadda yadda, Singapore, creative, arts...you get the drift), followed by the hottest architect at the moment Rem Koolhas, then the fashion designer Martine Sitbon with her art director (a French duo who punctuated everything with "voila"). Add to this Wallpaper's editor and one of the top creatives at advertising agency Ogilvy & Mather.

You'll imagine they'll have ideas flying leftrightcentre at the panel discussion, even if the topic was meant to be the rather pedantic "The Future of Asian Design". But there was no discussion. The speakers could not connect even at a human level, much less intellectually.

"It's all about happiness, selling authenticated happiness."
- advertising creative director

"I don't understand."
- fashion art director (he's a sweet guy, I think, coming across unpretentious despite his excessive name dropping)

"Identity is the most useless socialist anxiety."
- architect, responding to question on what is asian design

Actually, all this was rather funny to watch at first, then painful. But the creative types may say that creativity is discordant.

If we dream too long...

the long march

While talking with some colleagues whether there was such a thing as "The Singapore Novel", a colleague recommended that I read Goh Poh Seng's If we dream too long (Singapore, 1972: Island Press). Well, how to resist a book with such a dreamy proposal?

But first... who is Goh Poh Seng?!? I googled his name and this was what I found:

Goh Poh Seng was born in Malaya in 1936. He received his medical degree from University College in Dublin, and practised medicine in Singapore for twenty-five years. Goh's first novel, If We Dream Too Long, won the National Book Development Council of Singapore's Fiction Book Award and has been translated into Russian and Tagalog. His other books include The Immolation, Dance of Moths, Eyewitness, Lines from Batu Ferringhi and Bird with One Wing. (Extracted from here).

I also found this vague article by Think Centre which teases and insinuates that Goh left Singapore for Canada under unhappycircumstances in 1986 to be an outport doctor at Newfoundland.

I finished reading the book today, and I must admit that I do like this straightforward coming-of-age story of 18 year-old Kwang Meng who learns what makes us all "small frightened people" in Singapore.

Though written in the late 60s, so many of its issues and its chief character are still real and relevant. But best of all is Goh's narrative voice. There is a directness and exactness in Goh's writing, but there is also a distinctive humour. Unlike so many Singapore writers, Goh's writing laughs, laughs at and laughs with his characters. (In the book, Kwang Meng is introduced to and begins to read the late Indian writer, RK Narayan. And I think Goh must also be a fan of, oh, lovely Narayan!).

So, what if we do dream too long?...Ok, so I just turned 31. For the last 3 days, J and I have been at this design conference organised by idN. As with last year, the place was filled with these teenage design students from Singapore and around the region who were more keen to collect the autographs of the speakers than listen. But age is on their side. And since we are neither teenagers nor designers - we don't even have a design education - we came away from the show wondering if it's really too late if we wanted to make a career switch?

And what about Goh Poh Seng? Where is he today?

As part of my google search, I chanced upon this short biography by Goh himself on the website of a Vancouver senior's home called "The Lion's Den":

After receiving his Canadian medical licence, he returned to practise in Vancouver. In 1995, Goh was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease and had to give up his profession. He now lives part of the year in Vancouver and part of the year in Newfoundland. Goh began writing poetry at 19 while frequenting the pubs of Dublin where he met writers Patrick Kavanagh and Brendan Behan. Encouraged by the publication of his poetry in the university magazine, he wanted to become a writer and at one point dropped out of medical school. Starvation and a love of eating drove him back to medicine. (italics mine)

Reading this write-up, the image I have is of a 69 year-old man who, Parkinson's disease or not, medical practitioner or not, continues making a life out of what he has. And over our weekly Saturday lunch at Killiney Kopitian, J and I came to a similar conclusion. Designer or not, young or old, what mattered was the precious salvation and people we already have. Maybe we've been daydreaming again, but I think what we have is enough.

happy geekdom

Today I have become the proud owner of a super geek Wacom intuos3 tablet! This smart piece of technology allows the user to paint and colour on the computer as if handling a real (air)brush. J (smarter, and infinitely sweeter) cleverly tempered all its geekness by giving it in a happy green Marimekko tote bag. Bonus gift!

And now back to "painting" with my new toy - the finished pics will be up over the weekend...Good night, good night friends!

a tale of 2 cities

i want i want i want! - kid sketched in Singapore, photo of Shilin-Taipei

It's our 3rd day back in Singapore from Taipei - and all the post-holiday blues have made themselves a comfortable home somewhere in my head. We are both due back at work tomorrow (oh, dark dark day!).

Do I miss Taipei? Hmm... I miss more the sense of freedom associating with travelling, made more intense by the chaotic openness of Taiwan. The cabdriver who took us to the airport was full of criticism for Chen Shui Bian's government ("他們比国民党还要国民党!" = "They are more Kuomintang than the Kuomintang!"), but when he attributed all this to Taiwan being "too democratic", "too liberal", it was with an obvious pride. Of course, he added, he could never imagine living in Singapore.

I like, too, the compassion of the Taiwanese. Maybe it's just the language. I like the way doorbells are labelled "爱心呤" (="compassionate bell?") and the seat right by the doors of the subway train is labelled "博爱座" (="seat requiring/seeking compassion"). There is no mad rush for seats in the trains, so kids and the elderly always have a seat. In the least expected places, those little slivers of land between subway stations or in a entrails of sidestreets, you'll find a playground for children. Most of these playgrounds also have exercise stations for the elderly.


disappearing into the city - at a playground in taipei

But I comfort myself: all cities are ultimately the same in their waste, greed and vanity. Where we differ is just the degree of polluted-ness, the breadth of our streets, the size of the urban sprawl, the disguises for our disorderliness, the nature of our violence. As printed below designer labels - Paris, London, New York, Tokyo. And sometimes adding - Taipei, Singapore.

So today, although I still find no joy in our stifling heat (the Old Man was right about how this tropical weather is one of our greatest weakness...) and the giant air-conditioned malls it has resulted in, I thought there was something redemptive in the chatter of children at 1pm, just as they were released from the school across J's flat. It's a happy sound we won't get to hear once we start work tomorrow.

======
Other things to miss about Taipei: food & books; ghosts & witches; historical dramas; hot pots springs; goldmines & porn; parents kids; and more food.

food food food

Is there any other way to title this post?!

Well, folks, if you are ever in Taipei, you will know which 10 dishes not to miss!
not in order of preference & *means it's in the photo here

1. Wan Kueh, Bowl Cake*
Try the one at just across the LongShan Temple subway, on the row of shops before you get into HuaXi Jie Night Market.

2. You Yu Gen, Cuttlefish Starchy Soup*
This you can find everywhere. The one we had is just doors down from the Wan Kueh shop that dates back to 1921. Equally yummy is the one by Ah Liang (bottom left pic) in the Shilin Night Market instead. Cheaper and dirtier.

3. Ba Bao Bing, Eight Treasures Ice*
The stall we ate at is in Huaxi Jie Night Market itself, called Long Du (Dragon City). It dates back to the 30s. We also had Suan Mei Dong Bing there, which is Sour Plum Jelly with Ice.

1-3 were described here.

4. Ah Geh*
I think the name is short for "Agedashi" as in the Japanese Tofu dish. This is a local specialty of Dan Shui (take a 30min subway ride on the DanShui line to its terminal stop, where you'll find what was once Taiwan's largest fishing port). It's sweet Tofu skin stuffed with the Taiwanese glass vermicilli and sealed with fish paste. The whole thing is then steamed and served with a variety of sauces.

5. Tien Bu La
The name is Chinese for "Sweet Not Spicy" or it could also be a variation of the Japanese "Tempura". It's literally anything - fish balls, pigs intestines, all kinds of tofu, stomach of some animal - stewed in some dark soy sauce. There are tons of street stalls selling Tien Bu La - and most shops which sell noodles sell them too. We had a serving of this at Ah Liang's*.

6. Fried Chicken
Just not the Colonel Sanders sort. You can find this fried boneless Chicken thigh or breast in Shilin Night Market (we had a really crispy deep-fried "Ku-Ku-G"...yes, yes, that's the name of the shop) but you can also find it now occasionally at other street stalls. Sinful, unhealthy, but delicious. We had another serving of even yummier fried chicken at a shop* in Ximen.

7. Yang Cong Hu Jiao Bing, Spring Onion Pepper Bun
This dough is baked against the wall of a heated drum after it has been stuffed with seasoned mince pork, spring onions and pepper. What you get is bread that is crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, with filling that is juicy and very flavoursome. Costs only NT10. This is sold mainly along the streets or shops so tiny they spill out onto the sidewalk.

8. Suan Mei Tang, Sour Plum "Soup"
This is actually not a soup, but a drink made from boiling preserved plums. Some variety has a slightly more medicinal taste. We had the sweeter version at "Hong Ma's" in Danshui and the medicinal sort at a really traditional place just outside the 2-2-8 Peace Park in Taipei. The latter* is served in a small plastic bag, tied at the top with a rubber band with the straw already inserted

9. Hong Shao Niu Rou Mien, Beef noodles*
We had 2 bowls at a 2nd floor beef-noodleshop along Zhongxiao Fusing (above the La New shoe shop) - one of the usual stewed beef flavour, and the other with stewed tomatoes in the soup. Lovely lovely lovely!

10. Kungfu Rice
I don't know why it's called Kungfu Rice, but it's a delicious well-balanced meal: Plain white rice, covered in minced pork that's been stewed in soy sauce and a yellow-bean paste. It comes also with a hard-boiled egg, some vegetables and thick seaweed. While you are at a stall that sells this rice (or beef noodles), take the chance to try Taiwan's other Xiao Cai* (Small Dishes) - sliced stewed beancurd; cold tofu with preserved century egg covered with Japanese shaved dried cuttlefish; preserved vegetables in sesame oil and chilli; chilled brinjal/baby eggplant in soy sauce; seasoned seaweed with sesame and chilli oil; drief tofu skin tossed with bamboo shoots and spring onion.... OK, I think I need to stop now.

mine are better than yours

Little children, Taipei loves you! And so do ampulets, especially TOHA

On our first day in Taiwan, J already insisted that kids in Taiwan were cuter than those in Singapore. Our second day in Taiwan, this conversation took place -

J: Taiwanese kids are definitely cuter.
Y: Really?
J: Yah, see. Look at them. Kids in Singapore are plain irritating.
Y: Aiyah, this is another case of grass is greener...they are about the same. Mostly ugly Chinese kids. Duck girls and boys.
J: No, really. Look at them.

I looked at two mothers walk by, each with a toddler holding their hand.

Y: Ok, maybe you are right. [casting a critical eye] But maybe it's just styling.
J: No, no, something more... don't you think they are not so irritating, not trying so hard to be cute, less noisy and inconsiderate.
Y: Oh, I see what you mean now...

J and I walked into a park, where kids are running around the playground, their parents and grandparents watching from a distance. Taipei has many parks and all of them have generous playgrounds. J and I then walked to a square outside a train station, where kids were running around playing with a frisbee and cycling, their parents and grandparents watching from a distance.

We then entered a subway station, and walked behind a mother whose kid was trailing behind. She turned around and said matter-a-factly: "hurry up now, or we'll miss the train." There was no shouting. No humiliating scolding. No interfering instructions. No extended babytalk. None of that endless fussing about not running around, holding hands, not getting dirty, not falling down.

J: Hmmm...
Y: Hmmm...
J: I think I know the main reason why...
Y: Yup.

city of sadness

Abandoned Sheng Pin Theatre with the poster from HHH's movie Dust in the Wind - image by J

Thanks to radiohate's tip on 九份 Jiu Fen, J and I took a day trip to this Gold-mining town.

Jiu Fen's a little town made up of maybe 10 winding alleyways of low houses, built against a steep slope by the beautiful northern coast. The town got its second lease of life after Hou Hsiao Hsien shot his seminal film <悲情城市> City of Sadness (1989) there. But as if this town was never meant to be, it is most certainly on its way down.


Beautiful desolation. Images by J - click for a larger view

In the last 5 years or so, the tourist flow has died down. Today, other than one crowded alleyway of foodstalls and sourvenir stalls, the rest of the town is pretty much a ghost town. More than half of the buildings are failed hostels and teahouses, and abandoned, fallen shells. We spent most of the time exploring these quieter streets, staring through the dusty windows (if they still had glass panes) and taking photos of the their layers of paint on the crumbling walls. J and I joked that if this was Singapore, Jiu Fen would never escape the zealous STB's efforts. In Taiwan, things are pretty much left as they are.


Sketch from inside Babka Cafe

After several hours walking, we finally found a beautifully designed cafe that had retained an old stone wall in its interior. Fortunately for us, the cafe had a chatty owner (hmm, alright, so we were the only 2 in the cafe) whom we could quiz. By now, we were really puzzled about the fate of this town.

J: I guess most people come here because of Hou Hsiao Hsien.
Bossman: Ah, yes, he shot a movie here...er -
J:: 悲情城市.
Bossman: Yes yes.
J: There's that cinema here, but it's empty -
Bossman: That cinema? Hou Hsiao Hsien beautified everything here. That cinema's not been used for a long time. You know what that cinema is actually famous for? No? It's Taiwan's first porn cinema!
J&Y: Wow, no kidding?!
Bossman: That cinema, Hou Hsiao Hsien beautified it [Bossman repeats, rather happy with this bit of knowledge]. You know lah, this place was a goldmine. And you know lah, like all workers, after a hard day's work...they all like to watch some porn.


Bossman enjoys chatting, so however hard we tried leaving, he made it seem rude to do so. He tells us that he would much prefer living in Singapore, where the government makes sure things work and crime rates are lower. According to him, Taiwan's policies and politics have gotten so liberal that the crooks don't get punished. In Jiu Fen, some 15 robberies of the shops take place a month by a growing group of drug addicts that have settled there. He continues and tells us that on bad days and closer to winter, the wind and the cold make it impossible to be outdoor.

Perhaps Bossman is right. If J and I weren't tourists with only 3 hours on these streets, the reality is that this town is rather desolate. When Hou Hsiao Hsien first chose to shoot his City of Sadnesshere, he might have made the struggles of his characters seem "beautiful" against this landscape. Yet his film also showed the persistent reality of this town, which maybe makes fruitless the efforts of its inhabitants.

Hot Pot

what happens when you play the fool at the hotsprings

We got out of Taipei city to the hotspring town of 北投 Beitou, a 30min subway ride from the city centre. There, we saw another instance of Taiwanese civil engagement in action.

The beautiful Beitou HotSpring Museum used to be a public bathhouse that was first built when Taiwan was a Japanese colony. In 1994, the local government was about to tear the abandoned and derelic building down, but a Primary School teacher Ms Li thought it was a pity. She organised a petition and got enough signatures to save this gem. To restore the building, support came from all quarters - students, teachers,old tile makers, photographers, Beitou residents...Till today, the museum is run entirely by volunteers.

As a treat, J and I checked into this hotel where every room comes fitted with its own private bath - all slate-tiled, wood and pebble-lined floor. I was about to describe it as zen, but I thought it would be quite an oxymoron: zen luxury.

We immediately filled the slate pool in the room. The sulphuric water is pumped straight from the hotsprings and a sign on the wall tells us that the temperature if 55degree celcius. Oh, that doesn't seem too hot. Hmm. So first a toe...bearable...then a foot... You must be kidding me! There are people who voluntarily cook themselves!?!

But determined to make the most of our NT$5500 stay, we persevered. And as J says, "woo hoo, I'm cooking in a 麻辣火锅!" (spicy hotpot)


The sign reads "No cooking of Eggs allowed".


This, my friends, is Ma La Hot pot...or what's at the end of a Ma La Hot Pot meal.

taiwan history 101

Yesterday, J and I walked in the drizzle to pay a visit to Dr Sun at his memorial hall. Well, Dr Sun is my hero. Ok, there's the bit about him having 2 wives which I don't quite agree with. He married Soong Ching Ling, while still married to Lu Muzhen - his wife from an arranged marriage. Plus all his rumoured lovers all over Asia. Sigh. That aside, he led the democratic movement in China, coordinating the resources of Chinese from all over Asia and even America. In Singapore, he supposedly stayed at a villa in the Bendemeer area called Wan Qing Yuan during his 8 visits to Singapore.


Click for larger view of these Expressions of lurve!

Today 31st Oct is the birthday of the other key figure in Taiwan history - Chiang Kai Shek. He holds the other memorial hall in Taiwan, and I think it's actually the grander looking one. As for Sun Yet-sen, I am *proud* to say that we share the same birthday (different year of course)!

To celebrate General Chiang's birthday, J and I took the subway to 淡水 (Dan Shui, literally "fresh water"), a coastal town that used to be Taipei's largest fishing port. It was a 30min ride, so in my boredom I subjected J to this little quiz on Taiwanese history. Hehe, so how well do you know Taiwan's history? Try this little quiz :)

1. When did large groups of Chinese from Fujian Province start to settle in Taiwan?
(a) 1400s
(b) 1600s
(c) 1800s

2. Other than the Fujian immigrants, which is the next largest ethnic group from China to settle in Taiwan?
(a) Shanghainese
(b) Hakka
(c) Teochew

3. Which of the 3 is not an aborginal tribe, considered the "true" indigenous people og Taiwan?
(a) Ami
(b) Alishan
(c) Ashin

4. Which European colonial power was the first to "discover" Taiwan?
(a) Dutch
(b) Portuguese
(c) Spanish

5. During which dynasty did the Chinese officially place Taiwan under its jurisdiction?
(a) Qing
(b) Ming
(c) Tang

6. The Chinese ceded Taiwan to Japan in 1895 in the Treaty of Shimonoseki. Taiwanese intellectuals were against the Treaty and declared Taiwan a sovereign nation, calling it the...
(a) People's Republic of Taiwan
(b) Independent Republic of Taiwan
(c) Taiwan Democratic Republic

7. The Japanese successfully subdued Taiwan with its modern weaponry, leaving some 10,000 Taiwanese soldiers and civilians dead. For how long did Japan occupy Taiwan?
(a) 20 years
(b) 35 years
(c) 50 years

8. The Taiwanese recognise which of these men as their 国父 (Founding father)?
(a) Sun Yet Sen
(b) Chiang Kai Shek
(c) Lee Teng Hui

9. The Taiwanese still recognise the calendar marked to the day the Republic of China was established, with Sun Yet Sen as the first President. They refer to it as MinGuo YearXXX. When did this calendar start?
(a) Jan 1, 1911
(b) Jan 1, 1921
(c) Jan 1, 1931

10. In what year did Chiang Kai Shek flee to Taiwan, resulting in a mass exodus of Nationalist soldiers, Kuomingtang supporters, artists, intellectuals etc?
(a) 1950
(b) 1949
(c) 1948

11. Chiang Kai Shek had thought he could rebuild his army in Taiwan and return to China. But we all know that didn't happen. He instituted quite a lot of reforms, but still, his rule was known to be harsh towards dissenters. In the 50s especially, folks who spoke against the Government were treated severely. That period is commonly known as...
(a) The Red Terror
(b) The Green Terror
(c) The White Terror
I don't actually know WHY or how this name came about. Anyone?

12. Who is the first Taiwan born President of Taiwan?
(a) Chiang Kai Shek
(b) Lee Teng Hui
(c) Chen Shui Bian

13. Until 1971, Taiwan held a seat in the UN Security Council before the People's Repubic of China was admitted instead. In 1980, Taiwan was expelled from 2 other world bodies. Which of these was Taiwan not expelled from?
(a) NATO
(b) IMF
(c) WB

Well, even if you didn't get these answers right (like J!), you will probably have gotten the picture that Taiwan's history is pretty tumultous. Everyone's wanted this green isle, and the unruly-ness and independence of Taiwan today has been there for a long time.

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Answers
1a, 2b, 3c, 4a, 5a, 6c, 7C, 8a, 9b, 10b, 11c, 12b,13a