Dogfight in Chinatown

This week, Chinatown is at its liveliest. In the pre-Chinese New Year frenzy, everyone is trying to sell everyone something auspicious, delicious or... salacious?


check out the last movie: Starring Angelina Jolie - not. You wish!

J and I wandered into Chinatown tonight after work. And as at most of these larger and more well-organised bazaars, we witnessed the highest forms of sales(wo)manship at work - the Chinese auctioneer and the Thai/Chinese "monk". But who was the better of the two?

So friends, Ampulets Theatre presents...the auspicious, the delicious...er, not very salacious Dog Fight in China Town! (warning: this is the lengthiest playscript ever on this blog.)

Starring
1. The Auctioneer: a middle-aged woman who, judging by her accent, is from the middle kingdom; and who, judging by the hoarseness of her voice, has been at this for some nights already. She is surrounded by 2 "walls" of pictures and 3 tables full of carved stone kirins.

2. The Medium ("Monk"?): a bespectacled and very skinny middle-aged man, wearing a white shirt and with an orange monk's robe/shawl draped across. He has for his backdrop 2 banners (see pic below)

3. The judges: J and Y



The Battle Begins
Auctioneer: And I've got here "Fortune and Prosperity" - this is genuine jade from china. Look at how lovely the peonies are, how fine the carving. And the wood - that goes without saying - fine wood. Where else can you find such a treasure? I'll start at $10. $10 going once. $10 going twice. $20 - thank you Ma'am. $20 going once. $20 going twice. $30. $30, it's yours! [her assistant quickly hands her another picture]

Medium: Today I've got 38 very special treasures that I'll share with everyone. But before I do that, remember the curse? I'm going to show you how Argento (edit: er, that's what I heard) will remove the curse. Then I'll show you the 38 treasures. This is a good day. [He turns back to play a CD of chants, joins his hands together, silently mumbles/chants. He picks up a bottle of powder, and scatters it before him, then picks up a large brandy glass filled with some dark liquid.]

A: I tell you, this is a good one. "Smooth sailing all the way". When you hang this in your house, it'll be smooth sailing for you all the way. This is the best soochow embroidery and silk. Yesterday, even chinese tourists from xi'an bought 4 of such pictures from me! You give me a price! Anyone with a price, once. Give me the price you like. Once, twice, three times. OK, I'll keep it.

Now here, this one here is a beauty. "Cherry Blossoms bloom, the flowers radiate" - another fine piece of Soochw embrroidery on golden silk. I tell you, even the frame itself is worth more than $10. What a beauty. I'll just let you give me a price. $30? Good! $30 going once, $30 going twice. "Cherry Blossoms bloom, the flowers radiate" for the new year! $40! $40 going once. $50. $50 going once, twice - $50 to that handsome man there!

M: [He chants, raises the large brandy glass and swirls it gently. The dark liquid slowly, gradually lightens...until the liquid is all clear. He places the glass aside and turns to stop the CD player. The chanting stops abruptly.] Ladies and gentlemen, you can see, Argento's powers! He was staring at the glass [gestures at the bronze statue of a seated monk] and his sight alone has removed the curse. Such is Argento's powers. If you believe, the buddha will clear your curses. This is the best thing for all you pretty young ladies - don't be afraid of people placing curses on you - it will keep you safe. Not only young ladies. Gentlemen, safety is important. Protection as you work.

A: And now, here is something worth waiting for. I have many pairs of kirins with me. This is a mythical Chinese creature. Pure, genuine jade stone. Yesterday I sold hundreds of these kirins. Everyone wanted one. Place them in your house, they will bring wealth, fortune. It's a good sign. I'll start with the smaller pairs first. "The Fire Winged Kirin". Please take a look. Look at the carving. You place them anywhere - just not above your TV. They will open up the path of wealth for you. "The Fire Winged Kirin", ladies and gentlemen, $38? Yes, going once, $38 going twice, $48, going once, $58, going once, $58 going twice, $58! That lucky gentleman sitting there. Lovely kirins.

Next I have the "Mighty Riding the Wind Kirins". This one is special. I'm giving away a free gold cup with this....

M: And now, the 38 treasures I will share with you today. Because today is a good day. I take out 38 treasures. Not everybody will have one. It is all up to fate. it is a good day, and maybe it is your fate to have this treasure. After all, there are so many of you here. And I have only 38 treasures. So how can I choose? How do I know who is fated to be with this treasure today?

A: This pair is special. "The majestic three-horned magical kirin". This one is specially for men. [Y nudges J, winks. Three horns mah.]. One of my male customers, he bought this kirin. And the next day he randomly bought a Toto ticket and won $90! He has never bought Toto before. Feel free to take a look - $58! OK, handsome man, $58 - anyone else? $68! "The majestic three-horned magical kirin!" $68 going once... [J and Y look around for that handsome man who needs a kirin with an extra horn...]

M: I tell you, we are buddhists and buddha does not like to talk about money. So those of you who know you are fated to be with one of these 38 treasures, in your heart you know, just give some to charity. Argento here has a temple in Thailand with 59 monks. It is fate that you do charity... [J and Y walks away, mostly bored but also dismayed. Not only by the sad superstition but the appalling salesmanship! The guise of charity is lousy.]

The Winner

excuse me, but my name is not kristee, also not sordabee, ok?

The verdict? Of the 2, it is this auctioneer (though still not the best auctioneer we've seen). She got us 2 tired people standing there listening to her for at least 30mins, wondering who will bid higher and for the most items...and I confess, I actually considered raising my hand to register a $10 bid for a silk picture of 8 cows!

But by the end of that evening, the real winner was neither of the 2 dogfighters. Rather, it was the stall next to the auction which was selling all kinds of Chinese New Year decorations and trinkets. There, I parted with some real money (80cents) for a little golden cat.

got to get some ice cream

When J and I were talking recently about the unhappiness surrounding his work and future, the word which cropped up in our conversations was "trapped" - and I thought of Wayne Lo.

Who is Wayne Lo?

Wayne Lo, like Took, is a convicted murderer - except that he was "lucky" his crime was committed in Massachusetts and not Singapore. So instead of the death penalty, 19 year-old Wayne Lo was sentenced to life in prison in 1992 (pre-Columbine days) for having killed 2 and injuring 4 other students at his college campus with an AK47.

For the whole context of the murders in 1992 , you can read Gone Boy: A Walkabout - A Father's Search for the Truth in his Son's Murder (reviews in NYT and Salon also give an idea of the case), which waswritten by the father of one of the students who was killed.

I only knew of Wayne Lo recently from the latest issue of Giant Robot (available in Kinokuniya & Borders), which featured an interview with him. I suppose there is a natural curiosity about what it must feel like for a young person (ex-music prodigy), now past 30, to be sentenced to life in prison, and to carry that guilt of having taken 2 human lives (not to mention the grief of their families and friends).

Prison is limiting, but I am thankful to be alive [...] I believe the victims of my crime will live comfortably knowing I'm behind bars, so I'm not going to start saying that I deserve a pardeon because that will only hurt them again [...] You've got to come to terms with your sentence. Many never do. They keep dreaming about the day their verdict is reversed or they get a parole or commutation. They put everything into that dream, and when it is not realised, they crumble. I am aiming very low. I have no aspirations of ever getting out. Would I want to? Sure, but I keep it real. I work on how to make the most of my narrow future.

He ends the interview by asking for an ice cream from the vending machine. Puzzled by his request, the interviewer asked why he should ice cream be such a treat, does he usually not eat it? To this, Wayne Lo reminds, "This is prison. It's punishment!"

So why did I think of Wayne Lo?

Hmm, I guess the mind just works in a weird way. The comparisons certainly don't measure up. OK, not many things can compare to that lifetime physical imprisonment - its high walls, its "narrow future" - and its daily reminder to the prisoner of the blood guilt he must bear and pay for, his cowardice, his hatred, his sins judged in a court of law. Maybe in a kind of reverse fashion, although the prison that is our own self-doubt, fear and anxiety is not a physical prison, we are often rendered helpless and immobile by it - unable to take a next step simply because we cannot imagine there is a next step.

But friends, this being a Friday and the start of a long Chinese New Year break, I say we just get us all some ice cream!

I lose

a companion to this picture - click for larger pic in flickr

One morning on the train I was slightly surprised to find 4 people around me reading - this being a too-sleepy-to-read sort of train. The man to my right was reading a book titled "10 characteristics of effective leadership" or something to this effect. Curious, I glanced at the page.

Losers find problems in every answer, winners find answers in every problem.

Losers see thunderstorms and icy weather, winners see rainbows and ice skates.

There was a list of some 30 of these "loser vs winner" lines. And when he turned the page, I saw this at the top.

Soul success is self-respect for an honourable life.

If there is any truth in that book, then please let me not have to spend too much time with anyone who thinks himself a "winner" and finds his soul a "success".

trouble with numbers

These memes are really tough to do. On the surface they seem straightforward enough, but when you do get down to listing down things you like/dislike/always do/have done etc, it doesn't matter if it is 4 or 7 - anything past the 1 is a real test. Why limit yourself to 4 or 7 of anything? 4 favourite foods when you may have 10 or 12, or since you are Singaporean, 39? Only 4 websites to visit daily when there are more than 4 friends with blogs (links on the right!)? Or 4 jobs when all you've ever wanted is that 1 which is not yet yours?

OK, I admit: all of this is a long-winded way of saying that I did try to complete the 4 meme that tcsd, ru and CATch-up tagged me with...but failed miserably.

As compensation, here are 4 poems I thought of immediately instead. Hope you enjoy them ;>
1. a lyric by someone who knows contentment
2. a psalm by a broken man who receives real forgiveness
3. a poem by someone who remembers (you'll have to scroll down to see the poem)
4. just 4 short lines, quatrain 36

the cook, his wife & their gods

the altar to the most high cholestrol - photos in this post by J

When I first learnt, several years ago, that J's dad was a cook (he ran a Zhi Char place in Jalan Besar hawker centre), I was surprised. Incredulous,

"Your father's a cook and you can't even tell a garlic from an onion?"



Father J is not a chatty man. Like most Zhi Char cooks, he has spent most of the time with one muscular arm holding on to a blackened, iron wok, and the other nimbly coordinating the fire, food, seasoning and plates. And in like manner, he sits steadily and silently by us when we visit, but his eyes, cheeks and lips are busy with smiles. Ma J, meanwhile, would carry on three conversations simultaneously with us, her 7 year-old grandson and her nephew on a long distance call from some Hok Chia village in China.

Ma J likes to tell us what a good man J's father is - his faithfulness, his care for the family. All that, I imagine, is meant for me to conclude like father, like son. But the cook has one habit his wife has never reconciled with. Gambling.

Perhaps this is why their flat is inhabited by more gods and lucky charms than humans. Besides the large rosewood altar in the living room and a little one by the door, every surface - cupboards, walls, the coffee table top, even the aquarium fishes - were acquired for the hope they bring; even if they cannot ward off anxiety, fear and death.





So I guess it's another good thing that this wedding has made it necessary for us to drop by to see J's folks more often. After all, father J is past 70 and ma J has picked up quite a bit from the buffet of chronic illness (diabetes, heart disease, high cholestrol and blood pressure), some of which are no doubt caused by the 4 not-so-secret ingredients for yummy Zhi Char - lard, MSG, salt, lard.

fallen cities

The first book I read by Italo Calvino was Invisible Cities. Although I have read the book once or twice again, like the cities he describes, I have no distinct memory of the book...

Except that I enjoyed it at the moment of reading - its repetitions and refrains, its seeming economy with words but the surfeit of association, its glut of allusions and pretenses, those conversations between Kublai Khan and Marco Polo that go everywhere and nowhere.

Ruins have a similar effect.



After a while, they all seem pretty alike. Chunks of stone. Moss. Invasive trees. Broken statues. Damp corners. And they give the same testimony. Fallen men. Failed gods.

But we continue to want to visit them. We think there is something elusive and mysterious about their destruction, dream up stories and myths to match their human histories. We watch the missing roofs and walls, tread on their eroded floors, only to imagine the luxury of their architecture. We scale, tunnel and circle their spaces, tracing some map.



A year or so ago I was in Cambodia for a conference and got a bonus trip to the angkor wat, where I took these photos with the trusty old nikon. I enjoyed wandering around the ruins, but the best part for me was still watching the groups of Japanese tourists investigate their environment. J and I have been talking about taking a short break in Cambodia next month - and I think we might :>

maybe it's the rain

I've been wanting to write a short review of Jim Jarmusch's latest road movie Broken Flowers. But nah, too tedious. I thought about writing something on Ryu Murakami (that other Murakami) whose 80s novel 69 just got translated in English. But nah, too lazy. Next time.

It's been a slow week, trying and with one too many heavy conversations about... I think I shall let this picture of a fellow weary train commuter do the talking instead.

Domestic Tourism Day

all photos on this post, including this graphic composite, are by J

It is strange how on an island just 640 square kilometres (same size as Tokyo and 2.5 times smaller than greater London), some form of regionalism still exists. Maybe regionalism is too big a word...maybe I should say kampung-ism.

J and I have lived in the Toa Payoh-Bishan-Bendemeer area all of our lives. And even when our families moved, they stayed within this kampong, unable to imagine life any further north, south, east or west. And since J and I don't own a car, we seldom wander to other kampongs unless...


Grand Katong Dame - the Iconic "Red House" Bakery...undergoing surgery

...it's Domestic Tourism Day!

In our lower/middle-class Singapore minds, once bus #31 turned into Katong, we smelled Old Money. Katong is the genteel east, leisure-class east. The quaint peranakan east. The nostalgic art-deco east. The place where the early families used to keep their seaside/holiday homes. Here the buildings are lower and you can better see the sky. Even if all the land reclamation has pushed the coastline far away, in our imagination we saw faded sepia photographs of half-naked children with gold ankle bracelets and colourful beach balls, slim men in slicked-back hair and white suits on wicker chairs, and ladies who wear pearls to the beach.



But even Katong cannot resist change. Its sleazy neighbour Geylang has already crept into Katong with its Hotel 81 and dingy karaoke bars and foreign hostesses. The cheap hotels and migrant population has spawned a row of internet cafes (only $1 per hour!) in the old shophouses sporting names like "Heaven and Hell". Its expired shopping centres now house SME shipping companies, traditional chinese physicians, middle-aged beauticians and domestic maid agencies.


kim choo - my inspiration!

What has not changed over time is Katong's reputation as a foodie's heaven. We had a teatime snack of nonya kueh, kaya toast, otah toast and kopic-c (and free aroma of chup chai from the kitchen) at peranakan matriarch Golden Pearl/Kim Choo's kitchen, followed quickly by Laksa and Otah. And folks, Katong also has a very authentic looking Taiwanese eatery where we spotted on its menu, among other Taiwanese yummies, Wan Kueh and YouYu Gen!

So friends, on your Domestic Tourism Day, if you are not familiar with the Katong kampong, we recommend that you drop by for a day's worth of strolling, photography, conversation and feasts. And be serious about tourism, take the bus.

witch's brew

A week ago, J and I ventured to Eu Yan Sang to gather our stock of Chinese herbal teas. In our encyclopedia of chinese traditional medicine there are only 4 entries - yin, yang, heaty and cooling. So as we surveyed the various packets herbal teas, it seemed each of them fell under the safe "cooling" category, promising to rid us of "heat" and "toxins".

There was only one tea which stood out. It promised to have the additional benefits of aiding digestion, appetite and ridding the body of "wind". And its name was poetry - 七星茶, literally seven star tea.

And here, my friends, is what poetry means in traditional chinese medicine.


beetlejuice beetlejuice beetlejuice!

Today, during our visit to J's parents, his mom aahed at the mention of "seven star tea" and offered this revelation in Hokkien: "Seven star tea, oh, it's for children to help them burp, get rid of wind. Yes yes, sometimes it's got cockroaches and cockroach shit in it. Your second brother drank it when he was a kid."

the breakfast club

finally, #3 - click for larger view

The "study corner" at the void deck of J's block of HDB fats in Toa Payoh Lorong 8 is a pretty happening place. Every morning, a group of some 8 to 10 ladies between the ages of 50 and 70 gather there without fail.

I guess this is probably quite a common sight in HDB estates: housewives back from their morning trip to the market and stopping for a little chat that becomes a long gossip - and oh, since it's going to be a marathon session, they take out their morning shopping and start preparing their lunch there too!

What amazes me is that this daily gathering takes place despite the noise and dust from all the "upgrading" works taking place around them. If the mechanical drilling and hacking is loud, they would just speak louder. Such persistence!

I'll try to get a sketch of them one day...but meanwhile, here's the 3rd picture of the adventuring rabbit series. I've been trying out new styles and compositions, and this is one of them. The rabbit's finally in the city, and in the background is J's block of HDB flats at Toa Payoh Lorong 8.

look Ma, wings!

Adults need fairy tales - or so the publishing world has realised some time ago.

I suppose if you were to market children's books, particularly picture books, your target audience is not the young reader with no $pending power, but the anxious parent and doting aunt who will be buying the book. So it was only natural that publishers and bookstores soon packaged these books, Silverstein's "The Giving Tree" for example, to the adult reader instead, "the young at heart". These books sit at the far borders of the graphic novel world, since their wisdom and moral universe are too saccharine.

At Kinokuniya's Christmas/New Year discounts, I picked up a couple of books by Taiwan writer/illustrator Jimmy/幾米 Ji Mi. Aiyah, being a snob, I had ignored his books for a long time...until after the recent trip to Taipei. Taiwan's been in love with his dreamy, colourful children's book illustrations for several years. But since Hong Kong made these poor movie adaptations out of his Turn Left, Turn Right and The Sound of Colours, he has outgrown that island.

My favourite is this 2003 book Mr Wing (pic above is of a vinyl toy based on the book...Merchandise!). It's a meandering sort of narrative that starts with perfection and ends with... ambivalence. A guy with the perfect life (handsome, rich, talented, charming, good-natured) discovers one day that he has sprouted wings. And what seems the pinnacle of his achievements (a man so perfect he becomes an angel) quickly becomes first an irritation, then a curse to be overcome, and finally, a just a fact of a radically pared-down existence. He doesn't return to his perfect life. He doesn't get much out of it all. There's no moral to be derived and no lesson learnt. But the reader knows that he survives somehow.


posers in front of giant yoshitomo & JiMi illustrations

Maybe it's the desire for escape into a simpler world that nonetheless acknowledges the stresses of grown up life. Or maybe we all just like looking at pretty pictures...