watching 'em grow

My brother E, good citizen him, has three kids. E1 is three, E2 is one and M3 is a month old. Each is their own person.

It's been interesting just watching them grow and express their personality. E1 is gentle and agreeable ("You try. It's good. Try.") E2 is observant and a quick storm. M3 is a small parcel that sleeps and poops. So far. And it is easy to imagine the joy associated with parenthood. Brother E's is obvious. A typical conversation in the car as Brother E drives us home after dinner on Sundays goes like this:

Bro E: I gotta think using about a different strategy with E2.
J&Y: Yah, they are so different!
Bro E: With E1, once I smacked him on the backside a little harder. I just wanted to test how far to go. Experiment, haha. And he immediately knows he has done something that has made me more angry than usual.
J&Y: Aiyah, he's a softie.
Bro E: But with E2, it's different. If I just slap his hand when he does something wrong, he hits me back! It's like monkey see monkey do still.
J&Y: Hmm, he's a fierce one.
Bro E: ... I must think about it some more, use a different strategy.
J&Y:...
Bro E: You know, it's nice seeing how E1 has changed in the last 3 weeks. He used to just ignore his little brother. But yesterday, while we we out on a walk, he suddenly just kissed E2 on the head! It's nice, seeing him learn to relate to his little brother and show his love.

Awww. But no, we have not changed our minds about not having our own. That's three negatives in one sentence.

Hokkaido for Ladies with Unladylike Appetites

If there is one image that summed up my one-week experience in Hokkaido with Ma Y, it is this:







The meals you can have in Hokkaido are reason enough why anyone thinking of taking their mom on a holiday should put Hokkaido on the list of possible destinations. Especially if your mother enjoys her food and cooking as much as mine. Sure, Hokkaido is a tourist trap aimed at both domestic and foreign visitors. But hey, this means that the destinations are mostly accessible and visitor-oriented without losing too much of its authenticity.



So if you've scrunched up some savings and have set aside a week from work, here's a fairly typical itinerary for a reasonably-paced tour of the central parts of Hokkaido:



Day 1: Starters in Sapporo



Start the trip with a leisurely walk in one of Sapporo's many parks*. Without wandering too far from the city centre, there is the Hokudai Shokubutsuen (Botanical Gardens). The park is far from the carefully planned and neat Botanical gardens in Singapore, but it offers some quiet paths and over 40,000 plant varieties. The park also contains some old structures in Sapporo, including Sapporo's 1st museum.



When getting to the park entrance at North 3 West 8, stop first at the strikingly red building at N3 W4. The first Municipal Government Building in Hokkaido, its red facade makes for a great first photo! Plus it is also surrounded by a pretty park with two ponds that attracts the Salaryman-on-a-lunchbreak and the Japanese retiree alike. The Shokubutseun entrance is a short walk right behind the Municipal building. At the entrance is also Hokkaido Ainu Association, which has a small display of Ainu culture objects.







After the walk, stop for lunch at a cafe as you make your way southward towards the Tozai subway line or the Odori-koen. Odori park is a fairly narrow strip of green that marks the North and South ends of the city. It's another great place to wander around or even sit and people-watch while having a takeaway lunch (the 7-11 or Lawson's have good tasting sandwiches). This is because Odori Park has some fun sculptural pieces that double up as a kind of playground for kids. In summer, the Sapporo Jazz Festival and various beer/wine/cheese festivals also take place in tents set up around the park



Take the Tozai line subway from Odori Park (several stations are located alongside the Park) for your first Tourist Trap - the Ishiya Chocolate Factory! Get off at the Miyanosawa Station, which is the western terminus of the Tozai line. Check out the map in the station, which would show the location of the chocolate factory. The walk there should not take you more than 10minutes. Even if you don't spot the tour buses, you can smell the Ishiya chocolate biscuits once you are near the building.





Ishiya's oompa-loompas hard at work



The Factory, aka the Shiroi Kobito Chocolate Park, is really a glorified shop for the company's products. There, you can wander around the faux-English facades of the buildings, tour its faux-English rose garden and miniature houses (the kids love this), and make a 15-minute visit to its "museum". From the top floor, you can also look through glass windows down at the chocolate making facility - but that's about as close as you'll get. Still, the Park makes for a relaxing time for your mom taking photographs, watching the kids goofing around, and having a cup of coco. (The Ishiya chocolates are available everywhere in Hokkaido and even at the airports. Prices are the same, so you don't really have to make any purchases here)



After a short rest at the hotel, head on out to Susikino, Sapporo's party district for dinner! Other than Odori Park, Susikino is another venue for Sapporo's festivities. When we were there, the streets were closed to traffic and were filled instead with hawker stands selling beer, noodles and grilled food, and a traditional drumming competition! The Hokkaido folks sure love to party.







*If you have more time to wander further off the city centre, there are more impressive parks. For example, there's the Art Park or the beautiful Maruyama-koen (which has the Hokkaido Jungu temple).



Day 2: Start the gluttony already



The Nijo Fish Market at S2E2 is perhaps only one tenth the size of Tokyo's famous Tsujiki Fish Market, but Hokkaido's reputation for fresh seafood makes up for its small scale. Start the day with a walk to the Market. If you are walking from the North side of the city, take the chance to stop by the Sapporo Clock Tower at N1W3 for a photograph. It is supposedly the oldest working clock tower in Japan, but a clock tower's just a clock tower. At the Nijo Fish Market, try the Hokkaido hairy crab or snow crab, grilled scallops, and a bowl of rice topped with roe, sea urchin or the fish of your choice. If your mom is, like mine, a glutton lady of appetite, ask for the "Yakoburi-don", aka Glutton's don, topped with a variety of seafood. You can eat at the seafood stalls themselves; most have a table or two. That should settle brunch for the day.



Walk off the meal at the Tanuki-Koji arcade, the longest shopping arcade in Sapporo. It starts round the corner from the fish market at S2E1 and ends at S2W8. The shops are mostly souvenir stalls, eateries or rather dowdy boutiques. But it's a pleasant walk away from the sun. If not, exit and walk along W3 or W4 and you will find the Parco departmental store. Your mom will appreciate a toilet or coffee break there.







From there, it's a short walk to the Odori station along the Toho line, past the Odori Park. Take the Toho line to the Higashi Kuyakusho-mae stop to get to... the Tourist Trap of the day - the Sapporo Beer Museum and Bier Garten! Since the actual brewery has moved to a modern factory, the visit is not really going to shed much light on the brewing process etc. The museum's collection, however, does include an interesting display of Sapporo poster advertisements through the years while you fill up on the various brews at the museum bar. The grounds of this old brewery also makes for an enjoyable early evening walk. And as you wander around, decide on the setting for your dinner - you can have Hokkaido's famous grilled lamb in the old beer hall (men in suits), open air restaurant (families and couples) or a more modern annex building (groups of college/high school kids). There's an eat-all-you-can option (with a drink-all-you-can add on)... definitely for Ladies with Appetite.







Day 3: A Venetian Cuppa



Venture out of Sapporo for the day. Otaru is a port town about 30-40 minutes away by train, and touts itself as the "Venice of Japan" (read Major Tourist Trap). It is a scenic train ride. During the 15mins approaching Otaru, the tracks run right beside the coastline, so it feels just like that scene in Spirited Away - a train floating on water.







Once at Otaru, take your time to wander through the streets towards the warehouses closer to the coastline. The town is a mix of preserved old warehouse structures (wooden skeletons completely clad in heavy stone), Victorian buildings and modern concrete shophouses. Once you reach a stretch of canal lined with warehouses that have converted into eateries, take a couple of photographs (yes, it is picturesque) before filling up on an early lunch.



For the rest of the day, visit the many glass studios and shops. You can even try to make your own glass at the K Glass Studio. There's also the Music Box Museum (aka a very large shop) where even if you're not keen to make a purchase, your mom can spend a good hour or so just fiddling around with the various designs. In between, remember to take a break at several dessert and cake shops in Otaru where both of you can have a coffee before your mom fills up the shopping basket. There's the famous Rokkatei, Nii Kuraya and Kitakaro. I won't describe the confectionaries you can find at these places...but they will definitely make you wish later you had left some space for dinner.



Sushi is a relatively inexpensive option at the dedicated Sushi Street. If not, wander into the Sun Shopping Arcade on your way back to the train station. Midway through the arcade, there's a little street that has some 5-6 small bars/eateries that are more like the owners' extended kitchen. Either way, your mom is not likely to be disappointed with her meal.



Day 4: It's Japan Hour!



Hokkaido has many onsen towns. Some are nestled deeper in the nature parks, while others, such as Noboribetsu, are located more accessibly for less adventurous folks. An overnight stay in one of the onsen hotels provides a good break in the middle of your trip for mom to recharge.



Noboribetsu is a 1hr train ride away, south of Sapporo. Leave your luggage at the Sapporo Hotel and pack enough for the next 3 days before heading out. We checked into a "Japanese style" room at the popular Daiichi Takimotokan at Noboribetsu, but I'm sure if you make your bookings early enough, there are a lot more options. Try to see if the hotel offers a dine-in option where they will serve the 8 to 10 dishes in your room. Very Japan Hour, no?



To work up an appetite for dinner, take a walk around Noboribetsu's "Hell Valley" - the source of its sulphuric heat. If your mom has the stamina, extend the walk by trekking to see the crater lakes or the foot bath. The pre-dinner programme can therefore take anything from 20minutes to 2hours or more. There are, of course, other programme options, if your mom is into visiting the cheesy re-created Edo village or the cruel (and smelly) Beer Park nearby. If not, unwind after your walk with an ice cream at the street of shops leading to the hotels. While at the shops, you can also load up on beer, sake or any other drinks for your dinner (warning: prices in the hotel are at least double).



Back in the hotel, spend the next few hours before dinner soaking any tiredness away and warming up your stomach muscles for the stretching it'll get with the dinner!



This is just for starters!



Day 5: Not for Teetotalers



Sufficiently refreshed after the onsen experience, travel by train to central Hokkaido to visit some of Hokkaido's farmlands. We made Asahikawa, Hokkaido's second largest city, our base. Why? Because it is the location of several sake breweries!



The train journey from Noboribetsu to Asahikawa will take you right through lunch. Once you've checked into your Asahikawa hotel, you may have 2 hours or so to see at least one of the sake breweries.



We went to the popular Otokoyama Sake Brewery via the public bus. It's a 20minute ride on Bus #67, 68, 70, 71 667 from Bus Stop 18 by the Seibu departmental store 5 minutes away from the train station. At the Brewery, there's the usual explanation in Japanese of the brewing process, observation windows into the factory spaces, an outdoor display of the traditional tools, a fountain where you can fill up your bottle with the spring water used in Sake making, and... the tasting room! The ladies in the shop will let you taste most types of Sake, except the priciest ones, and are able to give you some simple explanation in English.



Take the same bus back to the city centre. The central pedestrian avenue from the train station is a pleasant pre-dinner walk, sometimes with lively college buskers. There are lots of Izakayas (little bars that serve a wide variety of seafood and grilled meats) in Asahikawa, so as you wander down the Avenue, look out to the streets on your left or right for Izakayas. We had a delicious meal of grilled meats and gyoza with our ice cold beers!



*Most visitors to Asahikawa go to the Asahiyama Zoo, supposedly the most popular zoo in Japan. If your mom is interested, you may have to put up for one more night in Asahikawa.



Day 6: Fruits of the Land



Furano and Biel are 20-60 minute train rides from Asahikawa where you can recreate those postcard shots of Hokkaido - a field of endless lavender, a patchwork of greens, that lone tree against a bright blue sky... You can start the day at Furano, and stop by Biel on your way back to Asahikawa. If you want an even more leisurely look at this side of Hokkaido, it is worth spending an extra day here. Hey, take things slow - it's a holiday! There's even the Norokko Train (literally 慢吞吞) to both places that travel at a pace deserving of the label "slow coach".







Furano has several food-themed Tourist Traps destinations. There're hourly buses from the Furano station to most of these: the Cheese Factory, Chateau Furano Winery and Grape Juice Factory. They are fairly disappointing, being no more than retail shops where you catch just a glimpse of the actual process. But your mom will likely be rev-ed up by the food shopping. If you haven't tasted Hokkaido milk, the Cheese Factory retails milk in single serving bottles. The same bus will also take you to Farm Tomita, the most visited Lavender farm. Needless to say, photo opportunities abound.



Ma Y was too tired at the end of all this to stop by Biel. But if you make good time at Furano and the weather is pleasant, a 1hour stop at Biel is recommended. If not, head back to Asahikawa for another satisfying Izakaya or Ramen meal. The Asahikawa style of Ramen is supposed to be different from the Sapporo style. I'm not a gourmand enough to tell the difference... but you may be!



Day 7: Last Dips



We were taking the plane back to Singapore on Day 8, so we made our way back to Sapporo on Day 7. At this stage, you may want to spend the day at any destinations at Furano/Biel/Asahikawa that you had missed in the last couple of days. Ma Y opted to spend the day shopping at Sapporo. This meant that we had the chance to track down any other Hokkaido dishes we had yet to try - Soup Curry (it's not just diluted Japanese Curry) and more Izakaya fare! For food-related souvenirs, the basement food halls of Tokyu and Daimaru around the Sapporo Train Station are one-stop shops. They also present another way to end this trip for Ladies with Appetite - a dinner of little snacks, salads, pickles and other dishes from the Japanese supermarket.



====

More tips for travelling in Hokkaido with Moms



1. Air TravelThere didn't seem to be any direct Singapore-Sapporo flights. Be prepared to transit in Osaka or Tokyo. For arriving via Osaka, international and domestic arrivals are in the same airport/terminal, so transits are easy to make. However, you will need to clear the immigration gates and pick up your bags before checking them in with your domestic flight. For your return journey, however, you can check in your bags straight through to Singapore from Sapporo. All you need is to clear the immigration gates at Osaka or Tokyo Narita. Confirm with your airline/ticket agent on the transit arrangements.



2.Planning the trip Hokkaido is a large island, so train journeys from a city at one end to one at the other could take some 4 to 5 hours. Unless you are spending more than a week there, it'll be tough to see some of the sights at the northern parts. You don't really want to subject your mom to too many long train rides...however comfortable Japan Railway is!



3. Weather Hokkaido's dramatic seasonal shifts will mean that some sights or destinations may be shut to visitors or not what they are advertised to be during certain periods of the year. July/August is great for seeing the lavender fields or even sunflowers in Furano/Biel, but it can get hot, sticky or even wet. Warn your mom to bring her sunblock and a very wide-brimmed hat!



4. Directions/Maps Hokkaido is one of the most "planned" parts of Japan. The cities/towns are essentially grids. You can basically navigate most addresses/maps by checking out the North/South and East/West location. For example, the location of a hotel could be along the North 3 road (N3), by East 3 street (E3). It is not difficult to navigate. And if you can read Chinese characters, you can even figure out the addresses in Japanese.



5. Stamina! Some of the "walking trails" in the nature parks may appear mild/short on the map, but what seems an easy trek to you may be - literally - an uphill struggle for your mom. So be prepared to shorten the walks treks or better still, have your mom take along a hiking or walking aid.



6. Accommodation As with Tokyo, a hotel not more than a 5-6 minute walk from the train station is best. Your mom will probably not have the energy for a long walk back to the hotel after a day out. Note that check-in times for hotels in Japan are usually 2 or 3pm, and are strictly followed. So if you are arriving at a hotel early, be prepared that you won't get a chance to rest in the room first.



7. Shopping Your mom is likely to want to buy lots of the locally produced food/beverages home. So pack less on this trip and bring along a sturdy additional bag (or two) for that return flight!

get better

Kidnap Bob comforts Pa J. Click on image for flickr view.

It is easy to imagine why there are so many hospital-themed dramas.

Families huddled along narrow antiseptic corridors and in curtained corners of a silent room. Relatives who didn't use to talk, must at least nod to each other in acknowledgement. Children who have squabbled over the medical fees must put up reconciliatory faces before the suffering parent. Parents must tend to their children, at a time of their lives when their children should really be tending to them. The old man who never ever gets any visitors. Doctors and nurses for whom all this is part of work - and more. Individuals taken out of their normal lives and stripped of their clothes and all that they have used to define themselves; put instead into pajamas that are not meant to fit, just in case you should forget that it is precisely your body, naked and awkward, that has rebelled or decayed.

Other than actual medical tools, there's a whole lot that design can do to improve hospitals and the environments in which rest, healing and rehabilitation take place. In many ways, while much of the design rightly revolves around getting you in and out of the hospital as quickly as possible, the body does not always respond as efficiently.

When Pa J was hospitalised recently, he gave the "my last words" routine (e.g. "I hope you'll both have kids") and insisted his daughter wore his watch. All this, even though it was only a minor surgery. But put him in the most serene of pre-operation environment, and the same fears and regrets would probably still characterise his experience. I am reminded that there is nothing design - or any effort of human mind and hand, however creative - can do for the one facing death.

poetry day

Very loose translation: "How can you wait until the autumn day clears, when the sun is setting and the cicadas call!" － late Tang poet Li Shangyin. Drawing of Pa J as J distracted him with small talk.

Three anthologies of classical Chinese poetry sit on my shelves. One has pictures and pinyin (hoorah!) accompanying every poem. I bought it years ago wandering discount book fairs. Another is a 500-page tome with a grandiose title Song of the Immortals. I have forgotten how it found its way to my bookshelf. The third is an anthology of Chinese lyrics, translated by a Chinese scholar Chu Dagao, who had studied at Cambridge in the 30s. It cost me BP3.30 from a second-hand bookstore in that British university town. As if reflecting the weight of their content, they are all hardbacks - even the picture book - and are built to last.

The books left their shelf and jacket of dust some weeks ago. I was searching for a Chinese poem that would go with a drawing of Pa J that J and I made one Friday evening. We had abandoned the TV the rest of J's family was watching in the living room and sat with Pa J listening to FM95.8's dialect news broadcasts on his portable radio at the dining table. It was a hot evening. Finishing the drawing at our home, I thought of the cicada and the sound they make.

The exercise got me reading (however poorly) some of the poems again, alternating between the dense Chinese text and its almost always-awkward English translation. One of the first poets in that anthology Song of the Immortals is the Zhou Dynasty poet Qu Yuan 屈原.

If he sounds familiar, it's because we all have him to thank for this!.

Friends, just to jolt your memory (probably from your Primary School Chinese textbook) - Qu Yuan was a politician/minister to the King Chu. His advice to the King not to walk into the ambush set by the Qin King and to form an alliance with the other states instead was ignored. This and the jealousy of other officials led to his being sent into exile where his poetic sensibilities were stirred. Some of the earliest recorded Chinese poems that were attributed to a specific/named author were by Qu Yuan. When the Chu state finally fell to the Qin empire, in despair Qu Yuan jumped into the Mi Luo river. The commonfolk who loved Qu Yuan, the patriotic and righteous public servant, supposedly threw rice packets into the river in a bid to distract the fishes from eating Qu Yuan's body. If that was not enough, they beat drums and rowed boats on the river for similar effect.

But Dragon Boat Festival is an uninspiring name for what is otherwise a great story. Us amps will, from now on, eat rice dumplings on Poetry Day, the 5th day of the 5th lunar month.

==============
p/s. Poetry Day falls on 28th of May this year.

Celebrity: Sharon Stone left her Boyfriend-"Dreyfous"

Finally Sharon Stone realized that it's now time to leave her 24-year-old boy toy,Chase Dreyfous, for the sake of her family matter.It was back in June when she started dating her 26 years younger boy toy.Sharon had uncertainties about the 'romance' after her fruitless try to change a custody agreement with her ex-husband, Phil Bronstein, over living arrangements for their son, Roan.

The whole custody thing really devastated Sharon. She has always dedicated herself 100 per cent to her children. The stuff about the Botox and so on that came up in court was fully made-up. But the heartbreaking fact is it took the flash out of her connection with Chase. Right now her focus is mainly on her family.

The Botox allegation was one of the 'best' chitchats that flew around this year!

$100,000-- If you can get Jennifer Hudson's 7-year-old nephew Julian King.

Jennifer Hudson is offering a $100,000 reward for the safe return of her 7-year-old nephew Julian King. He's been missing since the fatal shooting on Friday of Jennifer Hudson's mother and brother.

In a statement Sunday evening from publicist Lisa Kasteler, Jennifer Hudson appealed to the public for its help, offering the reward and asking that any information be given to Chicago police.
"Jennifer and her family appreciate the enormous amount of love, support and prayers they have received while she and her family try to cope with this tragedy and continue the search for Julian," the statement said.


Chicago police ramped up search efforts for Julian around the Englewood neighborhood, where Hudson grew up, and transferred custody of a "person of interest" in the killings to state authorities.


"Detectives are working 24 hours on this case," said Chicago police spokeswoman Monique Bond. "There's a lot of forensic evidence. We have to work the evidence and try and solve this case. Most importantly, we want to find the child."

Jennifer Shows Up for Body Identification

It's always hard and painful for someone to identify your own mother and brother's dead bodies,but it's "standard operating procedure" for a family member to do this, but that doesn't mean it's easy.

Jennifer Hudson showed up to identify the bodies of her mother, Darnell, and brother Jason.

UPDATE: William Balfour is now under the custody of the Illinois Department of Corrections. Cops told us the IDOC have taken Balfour for breaking the terms of his parole.

The nature of the violations are unclear, but it's told that although Balfour is in the custody of the IDOC, the "homicide investigation is still active and ongoing."

Search For Julian King Continues

Where is the 7 year old boy gone? Is he also dead or someone is hiding him somewhere? Will he be ever found by the authorities? The question remains.

The search for Jennifer Hudson's 7-year-old nephew continues to intensify. It is being told the operating theory among Chicago detectives is an "ongoing domestic dispute" between the suspect, William Balfour, and his estranged wife, Julia Hudson.

Chicago cops would not be more specific, other than to say there is an "underlying domestic aspect" to the investigation ... that there was "trouble in the marriage."

The cops continues to interview people, but no one other than Balfour is in custody. As for Balfour, so far no charges have been filed.

Chicago cops are now using flyers with Julian King's pic to find the missing boy.

The boy hasn't been seen since the bodies of Hudson's mother and brother were found Friday in her home in the South side of Chicago. The two had been shot to death.

The police will be handing out the flyers today all over Chicago, particularly on the South side.

Jennifer Hudson seeks Aid

Jennifer Hudson has joined the campaign for her missing nephew, Julian King, through her MySpace blog.

It reads: "Thank you all for your prayers and your calls. Please keep praying for our family and that we get Julian King back home safely. If anyone has any information about his whereabouts please contact the authorities immediately.Once again thank you all for being there for us through this tough time."



Sincerely,

The Hudson Family

Breaking News: I Want my son back--Julia Hudson Says

An emotional Julia Hudson just stood in front of the media and begged for the safe return of her 7-year-old son, Julian King.

Julia, standing next to Julian's father Greg King, told reporters how the Hudson family was holding up, described her last moments with her son and explained that Julian would respond the nicknames "Juicebox" and "Dr. King."

Julia also said she was the one who told Jennifer about the terrible string of events that took the life of their mother Darnell and brother Jason.

the promise

I found 3 boxes of colour pencils in the cupboard, including a box of 48 colours meant for one of J's nephews some Christmases ago...click for flickr view

Pa J's gambling paid off for him last weekend (unfortunately, more encouragement for the vice). As such, the family was treated to dinner at a restaurant. Over a dish of fried belachan kang kong, 5th Brother J - the keeper of bird and fish - turned to us and:

Bro J: Eh, I set him free.
Y&J: The arowana!
Bro J: Yah... I promised him mah.
Y&J: ... [but figures it has something to do with the whispered deal between the fish and Bro J for Pa J to strike 4D]
Bro J: It's a promise. Must keep.
Y&J: Where did you release him into?
Bro J: XYZ Reservoir. [smiles, and whips out his mobile phone to show us the video of the fish swimming in the water] See. I walk and follow that fella all around. Luckily no one see except my friend. He jun-jun was there fishing.
Y&J: Isn't that also illegal at a reservoir?
Bro J:Yah lor!
Y&J: [Still watching the video Eh, why is the fish not swimming any further?
Bro J: Dunno. Maybe not used to it. Haha, scared.
Y&J: Isn't it worse for him? I mean, in the tank he gets fed, now can he survive or not?
Bro J: I don't know lah. I promise him mah. See his luck lor.
Y&J: [their imaginations stirred] Oh, what he kena caught by someone fishing???
Bro J: [smiles] Must see his luck lor!

family life

an old illustration

With a new nephew joining us on this disastrous world, J and I were faced again with the usual question whether us amps would feel terribly lonely if we get real old or if one of us has to hang around longer. Not to add, kids do say the strangest things.

Just this weekend, we I got my answer when 75 year-old Pa J gave us a scare and had to be warded for observation after a marathon bout of vomiting.

J : I still can't get the image out of my mind.
Y: What?
J: My father shitting. Having to stand beside him, making sure he's ok, passing him toilet paper...
Y: What kind of son are you? He's your father! How many times do you think he had to see your poop when you were a baby!
J: I know - but -
Y: Why do you keep repeating this? Why are you so obsessed?
J: Well, it's not everyday you have to - it's like not everyday you see 2 flamingos mating!
Y: ...
J:...
Y:"2 flamingos mating".


what the flamingo brought

100

image by J in flickr

Sometimes I think about Ma J. I'm not particularly close to her, but at those times, I guess I miss her. I can remember her speaking to us, seated at the rosewood dining room table in her flat, before getting distracted by a string of long distance calls to some relative in her hometown in China or a relative working (always illegally) somewhere in the UK or Japan. I think how nice it would be that she could still be there when we visit. Or harder still to forget the image of Ma J when she was ill. That stare, or the droop of her head - always anger or despair. The whole year she suffered the indignity of her illness.

Today is the 100th day anniversary of Ma J's death.

I was at work but J managed to drop by Pa J's flat to be with him. J pointed out to me the irony that of all his siblings, only his sis and himself - the only Christians in the family - were with his father as he performed the taoist rituals of offering up food, incence and loads of "hellmoney" for Ma J.

J: Wah, such giant notes! [J referring to the large 60cm by 30cm sheets of "hellmoney" in denominations of 1 million!]
Pa J: ...
J: You burn so much money for Ma, you better also burn a bigger paper wallet for her.

Pa J smiled, used to the nonsense from his youngest child. But that afternoon, alone in his flat, I think there were tears.

resting place

At the columbarium. (our flickr sites are back up again.)

Over the weekend, J and I learnt 2 things about real estate.

(1) The most expensive real estate you can buy is in a columbarium.
Assuming the base area of an urn is 400cm2, or just 4% of a 1 square meter(sqm), 1 sqm of columbarium real estate ranges from S$15,000 to S$300,000! Our apartment, for instance, works out to be only about $2400 per sqm.

OK, the comparison is glib, but as we walked around the Bright Hill Monastry columbarium in search of a better resting place for Ma J's ashes, all there was on everyone's minds was just how much more it would cost - and why. For some of J's family, there was of course other things on their minds - if they should offend any of the spirits. There was a smell of incense everywhere, and an incessant chanting. Even in the air-conditioned columbarium room, there was chanting played over the PA. Needless to say, for me, there was nothing restful about this place.

>$600 for a 60 lease. "HDB"-style, though the room felt like one in the Cambridge university library I rememmber.


>$2,000 on a 75 year lease. An alternative collumbarium at some Taoist nunnery in Bishan. With the white concrete shelves, this felt like a quieter, airier and brighter library.


>$3,800 to $12,000 a unit for all eternity, the price varies depending on whether the location is at eye, foot or ceiling height; and the distance from a central hallwhere the statues of the Goddess of Mercy (I think) stand. Each spot is colour-coded. Gold for the $15,000 spot, blue for $3,800, so that even in death, we are marked by colour and wealth. But it still looks like a locker room.


(2) It's always about the living.
The story is that Pa J has been feeling uneasy about allowing Ma J to be cremated, against her last wish. He did not like how, after being cremated, Ma J's ashes are lying in an urn, stacked on the second row of a crammed shelf in a glass cupboard. This is despite the large paper house the family had burnt for Ma J, equipped with a paper Mercedes benz and two maids.

But once he decided that he would place Ma J's ashes in an air-conditioned room, in a locker-like spot costing $8000, the furrows between Pa J's eyes disappeared, his shoulders lifted, the red in his face lightened. He had done Ma J right at last.

This being a weekend of no rest, I'll stop and say goodnight here.

homecoming

J: Last night after dinner, they told me about all the supposed creepy things that have happened since. Did you hear what they said?
Y: Nope. You mean they saw Ma J's ghost?
J: Something like this. One night, sis-in-law C dreamt that Ma J was lying just beside the dining table talking to her. She can't remember much about what was said, except Ma J asking her to look after Pa J. It seemed that that the next day, Pa J found a very large moth resting on the same spot!
Y: It's the season for moths again.
J: The thing is Pa J believed that it was Ma J's spirit, and so they placed a chair over the moth, in case someone accidentally trampled on it. That night, he took the moth into his bedroom. But the next morning, Pa J no longer found the moth beside him. Instead, he found the moth resting by at the telephone [Talking on the phone was Ma J's favourite past time next to cooking] - in fact, it had died. He cremated the moth.
Y: Ah.
J: Everyone now believes Ma J has come back to resolve whatever was necessary.
Y: So why are they spooked out, if they believe it's just their own mother?
J: There's more. After the cremation, Pa J went out and there was no one left at home. But it seemed that at 9.30am or so, his handphone registered a missed call from that same phone the moth had died on.
Y: Someone called and forgot about it?
J: I don't know. Do you believe in ghosts?
Y: No. Spirits maybe. At least generally that the spiritual world is real - and not quite something we understand. But not humans turning into ghosts or moths.

Like J, I only hope Ma J is not some speechless moth, who with its stillness and death attempt a romance's resolutions and reconciliations.

J's photoblog & account here.
image by J, taken with our new Ricoh GR!

syndromes and half a century

We had planned to watch these films at the 20th Film Fest but caught only Apichatpong Weerasethakul's Syndromes and a Century Friday night. That morning we had gone to the Bright Hill Temple where Ma J was cremated to collect her ashes, place the bones (laid out on a metal trolley covered with a plastic sheet) into a bright yellow and rectangular urn, and to carry that urn to stacks and tight rows of the same - a library of completed lives.

For J and I, we are, as J puts it, sad but relieved for Ma J. You could say Ma J dying did not take anyone by surprise. When she was hospitalised last Saturday for a heart attack, the doc had warned that should her heart would fail, he would not be able to resuscitate it. So for the next 24 hours, relatives all had a chance to visit with an unusually lucid Ma J.

Death has no syndrome. If not, these would be its most likely signs - or so others who recounted similar stories of their ailing and aged (grand)parents dying had said. Just a few days before her heart attack, Ma J had appeared angry, refusing to eat, sweeping plates off the table, yet strangely agreed to a haircut and perm at the hairdresser's. She had also supposedly told her brother she was not going too live long. But she told no one else. With hindsight, these appear to be "signs" - the seeming foreknowledge, what can only be fear and what then appears to be a stoic acceptance.

But for Pa J, nothing could have prepared him for Ma J's passing. Not even if she forewarned him herself. Not even all 15months of her lonely suffering since the stroke.

Pa J has been recounting, and no doubt would continue to do so for a long time yet, his last conversation with Ma J at the hospital. Have you loved me the last 50 years? They had asked each other early Sunday morning. It seemed right that for half a century of life and love, there was no more than a one word answer, reciprocated. And it was important still to affirm, even if only just to leave the other with a bit of story still to re-tell, remember, or just to have.

2-in-1 saturdays

click pic for larger view in flickr. J/TOHA coloured this drawing as well. For his version, click here

It's always hard drawing kids on the train since they can't ever keep still. Even when they do, they are always quicker to notice you. And unlike adults, who will pretend that they are not aware of you (or that anyone would even think of sketching them), kids have no qualms about making their knowledge obvious and staring back. But this girl was sitting quiet in the pram. She looked way too old to be still pushed about in the pram. She stared vacantly ahead and did not fidget. Occasionally her eyes would move, but not her head which was supported by a child-sized pillow.

After a good afternoon of kueh pie tee and wine with colleagues at my boss's apartment, J and I spent the rest of the day with Ma J at the hospital. These 2 halves of the day could not have been more different.

By 9 or so, most of the visitors to the hospital had left. Some patients had turned off the lights by their beds and were asleep. Others, like Ma J, kept their eyes open - even if only the narrowest - perhaps afraid to be left alone once they gave any indication of sleep.

Right beside Ma J's bed was a wall of windows. The view from the 9th floor this side of the hospital was completely un-blocked - there was not any highrise buildings. There was the hospital driveway, a field, some old barracks or houses (now an old folks home) and clean stacks of private apartments in the middle distance and beyond. Traffic was sparse and considerate on the quiet side roads. And this being a Saturday night, not many windows on the apartment blocks were lit. Those that were gave out a warm orangey glow, the kind of light you imagined people would slowly dance to or doze off in as music played.

As I stood by these windows looking out, a constant December breeze on the skin and the very last of the wine leaving my head, there was a calm and a comfort. Perhaps like me, you would say that the view was peaceful. But if you were a patient lying beside these windows looking out - maybe a bedridden patient like Ma J - I wonder if this view was not one of the loneliest, the December wind through the hospital's woven blanket a cold companion.

been down so long it feels like up to me

"...because it's a long way down before you hit the safety net." 2 men sketched while on a train. Transporting them onto a pseudo calder mobile is J's idea, as usual.

On an island obsessed with "upgrading", J and I were involved in a little "downgrading" this morning.

Specifically, this morning J and I tried to help his dad navigate the healthcare system. We learnt that if you or your relative has a long-term illness and your family members don't carry wads of cash in your pockets, it is best to be prudent and opt to stay in a subsidised ward. Even if it means doing without the air-conditioner. Because the long-term costs are what you should look out for. In the case of J's mom, it means paying $75 for a 1 hour physiotherapy session instead of $30. It means $190 to see a doctor and a speech therapist instead of $60. Not too bad until you consider that doctor visits are once a month at least, and a good structured rehab programme for Ma J would require 4 physiotherapy sessions a week.

We found out that in order to "downgrade" Ma J's healthcare status to "B2", a social worker would have to assess Pa J's financial situation and make a recommendation. This seemed fair enough.

I remember picking up a second-hand book years ago at an old bookstore called SKOOB when I was a teenager (ah, that word feels weird!). The title caught my eye - Been Down So Long It Looks Like Up to Me by Richard Farina. Farina died 2 days in a motorbike accident - yes, a 60s child - after his book was published. I didn't like it when I first read it, and still don't. Too much studied, smarty-hip allusions and humour. Too American ;> But the title stuck.

Today, looking at Ma J's empty eyes (when she actually opened them) on her emaciated face, the head hanging low out of defeat but also rebellion and anger, Farina's book title came to mind. But there somehow seems to be a note or two of falseness in that title. It's been almost 9 months since Ma J suffered her stroke. It seems short when compared to a whole lifetime. But 9 months is the time needed for new life to come into being. And for Ma J, 9 months down just feels so long. I don't think it looks like up to her.

miracle man

I can never quite tell if Ma J is asleep or just pretending

The old lady in the bed next to Ma J's is in hospital because of a second stroke. When we were visiting Ma J this afternoon, the old lady's middle-aged son was also there. He was in his usual round-neck tee tucked into a pair of blue jeans with a belt made of buffalo hide. His limbs are slim, but his belly is round. His bald head, too, is round and abnormally large for his small frame.

Let's call him Ah Biao, or if you prefer an English name, you can think of him as Bill (after his buffalo hide belt).

When J and I walked out of the ward, Ah Biao or Bill followed us. Three of us stood around the counter by the nurses' work area. J and I were quiet, enjoying the break. Then Ah Biao wanted to show us something special.

"Eh, I show you something."

Ah Biao unzipped his black waist pouch and took out a small yellow cloth pouch. He untied the colourful string that secured the opening of the pouch. He weighed the pouch on his palm, gently bounced it - once, twice, three times - and peered into it. Nope, no genie.

"Inside there's a pearl." He began. "Centipede pearl."

We were puzzled and only half-catching what he was saying.

"Huh?"

"Centipede pearl. From giant centipede." He extended his other arm to illustrate and continued, "at least one metre long. This kind of pearl only from very big centipede, the centipede so big it is almost immortal already, it wants to be god already. [ed: i think he means that it has almost reached some stage of transfiguration and spiritual transcendance?] From a jungle in Sarawak."

He offered us a look and J and I took turns to look into the small yello pouch. Indeed there was a tiny pearl, the cheap irregularly-shaped sort of pearl you might buy from touristy Bangkok or Manila in the 80s and tinted gaudily. It was about 3mm large, maroon in colour, and was sitting in a bed of rice grains.

"Oh, how is it that the centipede will make a pearl?" We asked politely.

"The centipede spit it out. Very rare lah. Only this type of centipede, very big. It spit it out. In Sarawak, only the holy man can find. Very rare."

"Oh. What is it for? Why do you keep it?"

Ah Biao took one more look at his centipede spit pearl before tying up the pouch, returning it safely into his waist pouch.

"For business one. Usually businessman keep. Give you peace, good things."

We did not know what else to say. "Oh."

"This pearl got energy. It will eat the rice. A few days I check, some of the rice ah, they become hollow."

There was silence again. But Ah Biao needed an audience. From his jean pocket he removed a red brocade pouch, the kind that the traditional gold jewellers used.

"Wild boar tooth. From Sarawak."

He unzipped the pouch and removed an ivory-coloured hooked tusk, stained at the tip.

"What is this for?" We asked as he wished, falling into a routine.

"Peace. Safety. This one for travelling. Sometimes I go overseas. You keep it close to your body, safety."

"Ah."

"I also have this snake stone."

Yes, of course, a snake stone, everyone has one of those, I wanted to say.

"What's a snake stone? How does it look like?" J asked.

"You know from the snake, the gall inside ah. About this big. Black colour one, I sometimes wear here," he showed us his ring finger, "when I go overseas I wear."

"Ah."

"This snake stone, I take a stand of hair, tie around it and then use the lighter... but the hair won't burn."

We nodded, tired. It must be for the lack of coffee or it was the stifling atmosphere in the hospital ward beside a quiet defeated Ma J.

"You know right? Usually you take hair ah, then you use a lighter to burn, it will curl up, then it will start to burn, right? But I put the hair, like this ah, around the stone then I burn, it never burn. Haha. In Malaysia ah, very common, they want to sell me the snake stone. I say to the man, I ask him if I can test, put the human hair on it and burn. But he won't let me. Fake one! A lot of people, the sell the fake snake stones."

When J and I left the hospital that evening after Ma J had her dinner, we saw Ah Biao again at the counter outside the ward. On the counter was the yellow cloth pouch and an opened bottle of mineral water. Ah Biao was staring into his palm. When we walked by, he looked up and nodded a goodbye. In his cupped palm was the centipede pearl sitting in water - taking both a bath and a drink.

A bath and a drink. The centipede pearl could do neither on its own. It was not unlike Ah Biao's mother. A tube runs into Ah Biao's mother's nose, and to have a drink,the nurse would connect the tube to a syringe-like funnel and slowly pour in some water. And while Ma J is not completely paralysed like Ma Ah Biao, she too cannot or will not reach for her own drink. Even if the cup is placed before her and her right arm can freely move, Ma J prefers someone to lift the cup to her lips.

In the hospital both misplaced hope and hopelessness are common.

inheritance

images by J/TOHA - click for flickr view

I was looking at mom, while she was lying listlessly on the hospital bed. Her eyes were closed, but I was not sure if she was really asleep. Dentures laid quietly in a cup beside her. These days, she likes to pretend to sleep when she does't feel like talking to someone. Anyway, she does't really talk much after her stroke 6 months ago. Frankly, I was shocked that I could hardly recognise her face. In the past 6 months, about half of her was lost - weight lost. - J/TOHA

A rather nasty infection sent Ma J back to the hospital again some 6 months after her stroke. This time she did not panic and break down. She did not complain about sleepless nights and ghostly shapes - not even when the old lady in the bed across from her died after the first night. Her eyes did not grow red. She did not ask to go home. There is a fine line between stoicism and hopelessness. I'm not so sure that she's on the side of the former.

Several hours after the old lady in the same room died, they finally moved her body to the morgue. The sheets were quickly removed. The nurses moved in with the disinfectant and did the routine clean up. In a while, the empty bed was restored. Then a nurse removed the information chart on the wall above the bed. And because all the information was written with a marker on the chart's clear plastic covering, the nurse could easily wipe away the marks - the patient's name, her condition, the languages she spoke, her diet and other special instructions on her care. An empty chart was put back on the wall. Supposedly the hospital's not a place you leave anything behind in.



I wonder if we do inherit from our parents something that determines who we are or are these just some phantoms we think are haunting the mirror. My brother's 6 month old son is his hairless miniature. But what I mean is beyond the physical of course. J likes to observe how, like his mother, he and his 6 sublings all have a pessimistic streak, one which is further charged with a tendency to sink into helpless despondency. Yes, a taste for drama of the gloomy sort. And I, like my mom (perhaps following her mother) would rather that the dramas of life defer to dramas of the onstage and fictional kind.

But these are ultimately inheritages we choose for and from ourselves. We dredge them up as excuses for bad behavior or vanity songs for small victories. And like most narratives we write for ourselves, they quietly lay traps to enslave.