Bangkok, Day One (18th April)

When it comes to going abroad, one of the most common fears travellers face is a delayed flight. A delay can mean arriving late at your destination, missing a connecting flight, or having to forgo pre-arranged plans. So when my travelling companions from the Nandaka Vihara Meditation Society—including the Chief Abbot, Bhante Dhammasubho—and I received news that our Firefly flight from Penang to Bangkok had been rescheduled from 9.45 a.m. to 2.45 p.m., it was met with dismay. As it turned out, there was an additional delay, and we only took off at 4.29 p.m.

That said, our arrival at Suvarnabhumi Airport went surprisingly smoothly. Immigration clearance was swift and efficient. Within minutes, we had passed through the counters, collected our luggage and stepped outside to meet our Bangkok contact. Notably, there was a special lane reserved for arriving monks, allowing them to bypass the general throng of tourist arrivals—a clear reflection of the high regard in which Buddhist monks are held in Thai society.

Sukhumvit 24 is an upscale area in Bangkok, offering a mix of convenient access to shopping and dining, a relaxed atmosphere and close proximity to green spaces. We stayed at the Ibis Styles Bangkok Sukhumvit 24, a colourful and contemporary hotel under the global AccorHotels chain. The hotel shares its building with Mercure Bangkok Sukhumvit 24, which also belongs to AccorHotels. Ibis Styles occupies the lower half of the building while Mercure takes up the upper floors. Although the two hotels have separate receptions and lobby areas, they share the same lifts and a common restaurant on the eighth floor.

That restaurant—whose name escapes me now—was where we had our daily breakfast, and what a joy it was to eat there. The breakfast spread was impressively wide and varied, catering to both Western and Asian tastes. There were eggs made to order, sausages, fresh fruits, yoghurts, cereals, as well as Thai staples like fried rice, noodles and warm congee with all the trimmings. There was even a mini salad bar and a small selection of pastries and cakes for those with a sweet tooth. The coffee machines brewed a decent cup, and there were fresh juices to start the morning off right.

All dishes were clearly labelled, and there was a small sign propped up in the restaurant informing guests of the amount of food wasted the previous day—a subtle but effective reminder to take only what one could eat. A thoughtful touch, meant to encourage mindfulness and reduce unnecessary waste.

The dining area itself was bright and airy, with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the surrounding cityscape. It was a delightful way to begin each day—good food, a relaxed environment, attentive and very polite staff and the simple pleasure of exploring something new on your plate. Breakfast at Ibis Styles felt more like a proper dining experience than just a quick bite before heading out.

Left to right: myself, Saw See, Sew Kee, Moh Ven, Tussin, Soon Beng,
Richard, Teng, Soon Beng's mother and sister, Kooi Lan

Our Bangkok contact, Tussin Buachaun—who, for reasons still unclear to me, was referred to as “Johan” by one of my travel companions—most graciously hosted us to a distinguished fine dining experience at Baan Khanitha Thai Cuisine (บ้านขนิษฐา ไทย คิวซีน) on Sukhumvit 23. Several months ago Tussin had visited the Nandaka Vihara as a kappiya for a visiting Thai monk. Today, we learnt that he is a successful businessman who runs a software development company in the heart of Bangkok, providing financial stock-broking solutions to clients. At the Baan Khanitha, we were led to their VIP1 private dining room on the first floor, a large enough long table to seat up to 12 people comfortably.

This award-winning restaurant is one of Bangkok’s most iconic culinary landmarks, known for serving authentic Thai cuisine in a charming, traditional Thai atmosphere. The interiors of Baan Khanitha are richly decorated with Thai antiques, intricate wood carvings, silk cushions and soft lighting that exude a warm, graceful atmosphere. Even before the food arrives, the setting alone told me that I was in for something special.

Baan Khanitha has long been popular among locals, expatriates and tourists seeking an upscale Thai dining experience that doesn't compromise on authenticity. The restaurant prides itself on using premium ingredients—many of them organic and locally sourced—and the menu stays true to classic Thai flavours while presenting the dishes in beautifully refined ways.

Every dish we tried bore out this philosophy. Meticulously crafted, the courses struck that perfect balance between aromatic herbs, bold spices and vibrant colours. Each plate a work of culinary art, both visually and on the palate. We were genuinely delighted, greeting every course with appreciative oohs and ahhs. It was a food photographer’s dream come true—every dish practically demanded to be captured before we dug in.

And then came dessert. Three varieties were served, each more exquisite than the last. There were delicate Thai sweets with coconut and pandan, a chilled mango sticky rice with just the right balance of sweetness and creaminess, and a third one—warm and yet so delicate, I can only describe it as edible elegance.

Beyond treating us to a Thai fine dining experience, Tussin proved to be a wonderfully generous host throughout our five days in Bangkok. He arranged for our entire group to travel in comfort, putting at our disposal a spacious Toyota HiAce Commuter that handled Bangkok’s traffic with ease and seated the ten of us comfortably. Meanwhile, Bhante Dhammasubho was chauffeured in style, in a white Porsche Panamera 4, no less.

Click here to read Day Two

Click here to read Day Three

Click here to read Day Four

#IbisStyles #Sukhumvit24 #BaanKhanitha #Sukhumvit23 #Bangkok #firefly

Soundscapes on display

As I had some time on my hands while on the island yesterday, I decided to visit the Northern Audio & Visual Show in Bayan Baru. This year, the venue had shifted slightly from the SPICE Amari Hotel to the SPICE Setia Convention Centre. For a while, I wasn’t quite sure where I was supposed to go: the hotel or somewhere else. Fortunately, I found out in time that the show was being held at the convention centre's ballroom.

Not using the hotel meant the organisers had to build customised enclosures for the exhibitors. Each exhibitor was allotted one enclosure to set up their equipment. While attempts were made to provide some sound-proofing for each enclosure, I felt the results weren't particularly successful. Muffled sounds, music leaking in from neighbouring setups, could be heard quite frequently. Only the exhibitors who were assigned proper function rooms seemed truly satisfied. I stepped into one such room and thoroughly enjoyed the spatial audio demonstration while watching the Live Aid segment from the Bohemian Rhapsody film. It was almost like sitting in a cinema, minus the big screen.

Despite the challenging setup, the exhibitors in the enclosures had certainly brought out their best. There was no shortage of high-end audio and video equipment—each setup easily costing an arm and a leg. I'm sure many of them closed several sales and left the show happy.

As for me, hi-fi equipment is no longer on my shopping list. That time in my life, when I would stretch my budget just to own "the best within reach," is long past. These days, I can't justify spending on luxuries that aren't essential to living. And besides, my ears aren't what they used to be.

So if not to shop, why was I there? Truthfully, I went for the music. I wanted to see—and hear—what new music the exhibitors would be playing to impress the crowds. Every enclosure I entered was blasting pristinely clear music through their multi-thousand-ringgit equipment and speakers. Some were sourced from vinyl records, some from CDs, but increasingly more from streaming services like Tidal and Spotify.

Some setups were so astonishingly clear that the sound sent shivers down my spine. Every high and low note rang out distinctly; every breath from the singer was audible. I came away genuinely impressed by the quality. My Shazam app was kept ready at all times. If I liked what I heard, I'd quickly capture the song and the artist.

At one point, an exhibitor offered to let me play my own music through their system. But why should I, I told him. I would much rather be surprised by his selection than hear something familiar.

It’s safe to say my reason for being at the AV Show was quite different from most of the visitors. I enjoyed it in my own way, and I left with new songs in my playlist and a renewed appreciation for the magic of well-crafted sound.

Finally, I just want to congratulate Wilson Teoh for his unswerving devotion and hard work in organising this year’s AV show on such an impressive scale. This is already the third show he has put together. The first was back in 2022 at the Gurney Hotel along Gurney Drive, followed by last year’s event at the SPICE Amari Hotel. In both cases, visitors moved from floor to floor, visiting different hotel rooms. It was a process that wasn’t always the most convenient, especially with the long waits for lifts.

This year’s event was certainly a step forward. Having everything housed under one roof made it a lot more convenient, even if the customised enclosures weren’t quite as sound-proof as one might have hoped. But all things considered, it was still a remarkable effort, and I have no doubt Wilson will take away valuable lessons for making next year’s show even better. Appreciation to him for keeping the spirit of the AV community in the northern region alive and thriving!

Music experimentation

Once in a while, I come to know of a successful musician who has somehow flown under the radar—at least from my perspective here in little Penang. In the past, I’ve stumbled upon talents like Howie Day, brilliant in their own right but barely known beyond their domains. In the same spirit, I’ve been following 31-year-old Jacob Collier on Instagram for more than a year now—maybe closer to two; I honestly can’t say for sure. Time tends to blur when you're scrolling and surfing. But what I can say is that every time his posts pop up, I find myself fascinated, not just by his music but by his utterly unique sense of style.

He dresses like no one else I am aware of: wildly colourful T-shirts, patterned pants, neon overalls, different coloured socks and footwear that looks like it belongs in a psychedelic fashion show. If there’s anyone who can be described as flamboyant to a fault, it’s him. But beneath all that eye-popping fashion is a musician of serious depth and intellect.

Jacob Collier is not just some viral sensation. He’s a musical prodigy who’s been pushing the boundaries of harmony, rhythm and live performance for years. His ability to arrange, reimagine and improvise across genres is nothing short of extraordinary, and lucky Singaporeans can catch him live on stage when he comes round to perform on 28 May 2025. He’s already a multiple Grammy Award winner, with nominations rolling in year after year. His live shows are legendary for their energy and audience engagement. He doesn't just perform to the crowd; he pulls them into the performance, making them part of the rhythm, the harmony, the moment. Entire arenas practically eating out of his hand, clapping, singing and becoming one big, organic choir.

About a month ago, I saw something different. Something that took my respect for him to a whole new level. A video surfaced of him experimenting in real time with a full symphony orchestra. No planning. No sheet music. No rehearsal. No prior discussion. Just Collier on the conductor's podium and at the piano, casually tossing musical ideas back and forth with an entire orchestra, like he was sculpting sound from the air. It was a masterclass in spontaneity and musical fluency. He played chords, gesticulated and the orchestra responded immediately like a giant, living instrument tuned to his imagination. And just when you thought the moment couldn't get any more surreal, he turned to the audience and transformed them into yet another instrument, guiding them to sing, in unison, “I love you.” And then, just like that, when the experiment was over, he flashed a cheeky thumbs-up to the crowd—and was gone.

It wasn’t just impressive, it was mesmerising. Here was someone completely at ease in a world of complex musical language. It was a reminder that true musical genius isn’t just about technical mastery—it’s about joy, curiosity and a willingness to explore without limits. Here is the video, and observe the thumbs-up at the end of the performance:

#jacobcollier

Oroaming in Bangkok

Some phones have it, some don’t. I was lucky to find out that mine does—it’s a software feature called Oroaming.

What it does is allow me to purchase a short-term data roaming plan directly from my phone before travelling overseas. No need to buy a local SIM card, and no need to activate international roaming through my Malaysian telco. The plan is activated through the device itself, and payment can be done easily via Touch ’n Go, credit card or other supported methods. It’s meant to be convenient—and I must say, it really was.

I gave it a try during my recent trip to Bangkok. I paid RM10 for a seven-day data plan. The downside was that I only got 1GB of data which, in today’s world, doesn’t go very far. Even surfing the web is notorious for draining data, let along using the mobile apps. But when I compared it to Unifi’s international roaming fee for Thailand—RM9 per day—it was still a clear win. For a five-day trip, that would’ve cost me RM45. Instead, I stretched that RM10 plan across my whole stay while outdoors. In the evenings, I simply switched to the hotel’s complimentary WiFi to conserve my mobile data.

Honestly, if I’d known about this feature earlier, I would’ve used it during my Singapore trip last December. It would’ve saved me both hassle and some money.

Myths of Old Kedah

My flight this afternoon could possibly take me close over Kedah Peak, where the Bujang Valley and Choras Hill lie to its south and north respectively. These two locations have been in the spotlight recently, as they are key archaeological sites linked to Old Kedah. The current excitement stems from the discovery of an almost intact Buddha statue in an old, abandoned temple or shrine on Choras Hill.

According to Dr Nasha Rodziadi Khaw, who led the archaeological team behind this discovery, there is still much to be explored—and hopefully unearthed—at the site. The temple’s southern-facing area remains untouched, and who knows what lies hidden there? There’s speculation, perhaps even hope, that another Buddha statue awaits discovery.

About 10 days ago, I attended a 90-minute talk by Dr Nasha at the Penang Institute. It was an engaging session where he connected his findings to the broader, intriguing question: was Old Kedah once the seat of an ancient Hindu-Buddhist kingdom? His answer was a clear no. If Hinduism or Buddhism had been the dominant religion of Old Kedah, he explained, we would expect to find large temples scattered across the landscape—not shrines or kandis like the one on Choras Hill or those found in the Bujang Valley.

These kandis, he emphasised, were modest in scale and likely built by traders from India and Ceylon who passed through the region. They erected these small temples to practise their faith while in foreign lands—a matter of personal devotion and convenience, rather than state-backed religious infrastructure. There is no evidence of a widespread or centralised Buddhist presence, let alone a Buddhist kingdom, in Old Kedah.

Despite this scholarly perspective, controversy has erupted. A group recently staged a protest outside Universiti Sains Malaysia, where Dr Nasha teaches, demanding the cancellation of an upcoming international conference scheduled for next month. Sadly, it appears that this group is made up of misinformed or poorly informed individuals—worse yet, totally uninformed—fearful of archaeological narratives that don’t align with their worldview. If only they could adopt a more open-minded approach and engage with the academic findings presented by experts in the field, we might see far less friction in the country.

More recently, I came across an opinion piece written by someone named Abdul Rahmat Omar. I shall not reproduce the full article—it can be read here—but I will share the first half of the essay below. It makes for a good, informed reading:

History of ancient Kedah: nation-building should be based on facts, not racial polemics – Abdul Rahmat Omar

2,400 years ago, people believed that the universe revolved around the Earth in a geocentric orbit. This belief — that Earth was the centre of the universe — was widely accepted until around 600 years ago, when it came to be understood that the Sun is at the centre of our solar system.

With the discovery of other galaxies, we now know that none of them move around a single centre. That is the current narrative — until a new discovery may come along to challenge it.

Recently, a protest was held outside the gates of a prominent public university against the organisation of a conference said to be discussing and defining the narrative surrounding ancient Kedah. The concern was that this narrative might be shaped by those who do not prioritise the interests of a particular race or religion.

Such fears are rooted in the opinions of individuals who have never been formally trained in the disciplines of History or Archaeology. As someone who has been specifically trained in History at a well-known local public university, I would like to explain why the protest was a fruitless exercise.

Evidence matters

Can anyone write about history? Certainly. You could even write a paper on the effectiveness of nuclear fission energy if you wanted to. However, there are several factors and conditions that must be fulfilled before your work can be accepted — especially by experts in the field. This includes the standards of evidence and sources you use, and how you interpret those findings.

Your sources must be empirical or academically peer-reviewed. If your references are merely social media posts, you may as well write a romance novel. You must adhere to ethical research practices and subject your findings to rigorous scrutiny by other experts to ensure they meet strict and credible academic standards.

If your writing is based on personal opinion, then it no longer qualifies as academic work. That is propaganda — or at best, baseless rhetoric.

Free from bias

Your research must also be free from bias. This means you cannot write to support one side or dismiss another. You must remain objective. We cannot fabricate a narrative and then create fictional evidence to support it. Historiography must be free from centrism of all forms — be it ethnocentrism, anachronism, political centrism, religious centrism, or other imbalances.

In the case of the aforementioned protest, it was driven by emotions rooted in ethnocentrism and religious centrism. Among the claims made was that the Malays of ancient Kedah practised Islam and not Hindu-Buddhism, as has been widely accepted.

However, there is currently no verified discovery that supports the claim that Malays in ancient Kedah practised a form of Islam or even an early version of it. We have discovered prehistoric human remains dating back to the Palaeolithic and Neolithic eras, such as the Pulau Pinang Woman (6,000 years ago), the Perak Man (11,000 years), and the Nenggiri Woman (14,000 years). Yet, none of these findings provide any evidence of Islamic practices — if anything, they suggest a belief system rooted in animism.

This also does not mean that all Malays in ancient Kedah were influenced by Hindu-Buddhism. Nearly all temples (candi) found in the Bujang Valley were built between the 4th and 13th centuries AD. They were discovered at ancient trading sites such as Sungai Batu, Kampung Pendiat, Pengkalan Bujang, and Kampung Sungai Mas. Only the temples at Bukit Choras and Bukit Batu Pahat were located slightly further inland.

All of them are small in size compared to Angkor Wat, Borobudur, Gedingsuro, or Welan temples. This suggests that the Bujang Valley temples served as places of worship for Indian and Chinese traders, and perhaps a small number of local Malays involved in international trade. They were not built for a large population of Hindu-Buddhist worshippers. In short, only a small segment of Malays in ancient Kedah adopted Hindu-Buddhism.

This is further supported by the absence of temples inland, including in the upper reaches of the Sungai Muda — a key trading hub — or after ancient Kedah declined as a major destination post-14th century. If the local population truly practised Hindu-Buddhism, more temples would surely have been found by researchers who have studied the area since the late 19th century.

Finally, I would want to reproduce what I wrote here more than a year ago after my trip to Sri Lanka. There, my friends and I had stopped at the University of Sri Jayewardenepura. "We sat through a 45-minute presentation by Ishini Thamodya, a third-year Archaeology undergraduate of the Department of History and Archaeology. The most important lesson from her was the distinction between archaeology and history. Whereas history is written by people and often reflects their interpretations and biases, archaeology provides factual records derived from physical evidence, offering an objective glimpse into the past. Archaeology uncovers artifacts, structures and other physical remains, which allow us to reconstruct past cultures and societies without the distortion of personal opinions."

#oldkedah #kedahtua #bujangvalley #lembahbujang #chorashill #bukitchoras #kedahpeak #gunongjerai #usm #universitisainsmalaysia #nasha #nasharodziadikhaw #archaeology #buddhism #hinduism

23rd ASEAN+ age group chess championship - The details

It’s official—Penang will host the 23rd ASEAN+ Age-Group Chess Championships from 01 to 11 July 2025 at the Berjaya Penang Hotel in George Town, Penang. The event is being organised by the Penang Chess Association (PCA) under the auspices of the ASEAN Chess Confederation (ACC) and the Malaysian Chess Federation (MCF).

One of the key highlights of this year’s championship is the potential award of Direct Titles to winners, subject to meeting the stipulations set by the World Chess Federation (FIDE). For instance, the winner of the Under-20 Open event will be awarded the International Master title while the Silver and Bronze medallists will be granted IM norms.

Organised by the Penang Chess Association (PCA) under the auspices of the ASEAN Chess Confederation (ACC) and the Malaysian Chess Federation (MCF)

📍 Venue: Berjaya Penang Hotel, 1-Stop Midlands Park, Jalan Burmah, 10350 George Town, Penang, Malaysia

📅 Dates: 1st – 11th July 2025

The Penang Chess Association invites participants from ASEAN member countries—Brunei, Cambodia, Indonesia, Laos, Malaysia, Myanmar, the Philippines, Singapore, Thailand, Vietnam and Timor Leste—and all ASEAN Dialogue Partners—Australia, China, China-Hong Kong, China-Macau, India, Japan, New Zealand, Russia, South Korea and the United States—to take part in the 23rd ASEAN+ Age-Group Chess Championships.

1.0 Schedule

2.0 Eligibility

2.1 Players from the countries and territories listed above are eligible to participate and shall bear their own expenses.
2.2 There shall be 16 Junior categories: Under-6, Under-8, Under-10, Under-12, Under-14, Under-16, Under-18 and Under-20, with separate events for Open and Girls.
2.3 Players must not reach their respective age category before 1st January 2025.
2.4 There shall be four Senior categories: Seniors >50 and Seniors >65, with separate events for Open and Women. Players must be born in or before 1975 for Seniors >50 and in or before 1960 for Seniors >65.
2.5 The ACC reserves the right to merge categories in case of insufficient entries.

3.0 Time Control

3.1 Standard Chess: 90 minutes per player plus a 30-second increment per move.
3.2 Rapid Chess: 25 minutes per player.
3.3 Blitz Chess: 5 minutes per player.

4.0 Pairings

4.1 In the last two rounds, where possible, players from the same country or territory with a score above 50% shall not be paired against each other.

5.0 Tie-Break System

5.1 Direct Encounter, Buchholz Cut 0, Median Buchholz Cuts 1 & 2, Buchholz Cuts 1 & 2, Sonneborn-Berger.
5.2 Tie-break shall apply to players who are tied for Direct Titles (see 8.0)

6.0 Medals

6.1 Medals shall be awarded to the top three players in each event and category.
6.2 Individual Medals: Where there is a tie, not more than three players shall receive the same-coloured medal. Not more than five medals shall be awarded per category.

Examples:

• If two players tie for first and two tie for third, then two Gold and two Bronze Medals will be awarded. No Silver Medal will be awarded.
• If three players tie for first, no Silver or Bronze Medals will be awarded.
• If more than three players tie for first, only the three highest players based on tie-break shall be awarded the Gold Medals, and no Silver or Bronze Medals will be awarded.
• After awarding the second and third positions, if more than three players tie for third, only three Bronze Medals will be awarded based on tie-break.

6.3 Team Medals: Awarded based on the total score of the top three players from a country or territory. In the case of a tie, the tie-breaks of each player shall determine the winners.
6.4 The above 6.1 to 6.3 shall apply to Medals awarded to only ASEAN federations. (If the winner of an event is an ASEAN federation, the player wins two Gold Medals, etc...)

7.0 Appeals Committee

8.1 The Appeals Committee will be appointed during the Technical Meeting. All appeals must be accompanied by a deposit of SGD 135 / €uro 90, and must be submitted within 15 minutes after the completion of the relevant playing session.  

8.0 Table of Direct Titles (2024 FIDE Title Regulations B/01.1.2.2 apply)

9.0 Registration Fee

9.1 The Registration Fee covers all three formats: Standard, Rapid and Blitz.

9.2 For Seniors, the Registration Fee is SGD 270 / €uro180 and is to be paid by 1st June 2025. for Seniors with IM/WIM title, this fee will be refunded upon playing nine rounds of the Standard event.

10.0 Playing Venue

10.1 The Playing Venue shall be the Main Ballroom of BERJAYA PENANG HOTEL, 1-Stop Midlands Park, Jalan Burmah, 10350 George Town, Penang.

11.0 Official Hotels

11.1 All players and accompanying persons must stay in any of the two 4-star Official Hotels and shall adhere to and follow the programme stated in the Schedule.
11.2.1 BERJAYA PENANG HOTEL, 1-Stop Midlands Park, Jalan Burmah, 10350 George Town, Penang
11.2.2 VOUK HOTEL SUITES, Jalan Sultan Ahmad Shah, 10050 George Town, Penang. One-way bus transfers will be provided to the Playing Venue/Ceremonies.
11.3 Room rates (inclusive of breakfast, lunch and dinner) per day per person shall apply to all players and accompanying persons.
11.4 Room Rates (SGD/€uro) - based on first-come-first serve basis.

12.0 Entry Visa into Malaysia

12.1 Visa requirements vary by country; participants should check with the Malaysian Immigration Department.
12.2 Players from countries not listed above should check and apply online.

13.0 Social Evening

13.1 It is a tradition for each participating country or territory to select representatives from among their players to perform a show of their choice. Performers must bring their own musical instrument(s) and/or CDs/DVDs for use in the show. Prizes will be awarded for the best performances.

14.0 Registration of Participants & Accompanying Persons

14.1 Registration must be submitted via email or WhatsApp. Please contact any of the organisers below for more information.
admin@anoopsee.com | WhatsApp: +6012.4837013 (Ms See Swee Sie, Organising Chairman)
hohsteven888@gmail.com | WhatsApp: +6012.3112409 (Mr Steven Hoh, Secretariat & Finance)
jonathan.chuah@gmail.com | WhatsApp: +6012.4573263 (Mr Jonathan Chuah, Tournament Director)

14.2 Final Registration Deadline: 15 June 2025 (subject to participant limit).

15.0 Payment Details

Account Name: Persatuan Catur Negeri Pulau Pinang
Bank: CIMB Bank Berhad
Account No.: 8010 241157
SWIFT Code: CIBBMYKL
Bank Address: 51 Jalan Sultan Ahmad Shah, 10050 George Town, Penang

Ego economics

Several weeks ago, not long after Donald Trump was sworn in as President of the United States, I remarked to my wife that, judging by the noises he was making, he would likely have upset every country in the world by the end of his four-year term. As it turns out, I was being overly generous—he didn’t even need three months. After weeks of nervous anticipation among countries trading with the United States, Trump finally unveiled what he called his “discounted reciprocal tariffs” on over 200 nations. I said discounted, because apparently, when you’ve invented your own brand of economic logic, it only makes sense to dress it up with a catchy sales label too.

Most countries were handed a base tariff rate of 10%, but for others, the rates were calculated using a formula that Trump claimed would make things “fair.” This formula was supposedly rooted in the idea of reciprocity—but not the kind that makes actual economic sense. No, this was Trump’s own unique brand of trade justice.

The US Trade Representative then published an overview of how it was all calculated. At first glance, it looked like the kind of equation that would give even a seasoned economist pause—Greek letters like delta (Δ), tau (τ), epsilon (ε), and phi (φ) tossed in for dramatic effect.

But dig just a little deeper and the whole thing turns absurd. Strip away the Greek and you’re left with a very basic formula: (exports from the US – imports to the US) ÷ imports to the US. Then, for good measure, Trump "generously" halved the result and imposed a 10% minimum. The variables epsilon and phi were assigned values of 4 and ¼, which conveniently cancelled each other out. 

Take China, for example. In 2024, the US exported USD 143.5 billion worth of goods to China and imported USD 438.9 billion in return. Run that through Trump’s magic mathematics, apply the 50% discount, and you get a 34% tariff slapped onto Chinese goods. Add that to the existing 20% tariff, and you’ve got a grand total of 54%—which was later arbitrarily increased to 145%. To China’s credit, after they responded with a 125% tariff on US imports, they announced they wouldn’t dignify Trump’s irrationality with any further retaliation.

Was this formula dreamed up by Trump himself, or was it the work of his backroom “yes-men” and economic whizkids? Either way, it’s a new kind of economic reasoning—one that most economists glance at, frown deeply and mutter, “What in the actual hell is this?”

At the heart of the formula lies Trump’s obsession with trade deficits. If the US buys more from another country than it sells to them, that is cheating in Trump’s world. Never mind that trade deficits are shaped by a dozen different factors—savings rates, currency valuation, investment flows, interest rates, and yes, the small matter of Americans too lazy to work in factories. But in Trump's eyes, if the balance sheet isn’t in America’s favour, someone’s playing dirty.

The term “reciprocal” is in itself a complete joke. The formula doesn’t compare the tariffs other countries impose on US goods. It just punishes them based on how much more they sell to the US than the US sells to them. So you could have a country with low actual tariffs but a trade surplus—and it gets hammered. Meanwhile, a country with steep tariffs but balanced trade gets off almost scot-free with 10%. That’s not reciprocity. That’s arithmetic revenge.

The consequences of this mess means higher prices for American consumers, supply chains in chaos and retaliation from trading partners who are understandably not in the mood to be pushed around. And that’s exactly what happened.

And those weird flourishes in the formula—the halving of the outcome, the mandatory 10% minimum tariff—don’t come from any known economic textbook. They were probably scribbled on the back of a Mar-a-Lago cocktail napkin, because Trump wants it so.

So, what we’re left with is a trade policy that (1) ignores how global trade actually works, (2) uses the wrong metrics to define “fairness”, (3) inflicts real damage on both US consumers and trading partners, and (4) was clearly made up with no real economists in the room.

It’s simplistic, flawed and dangerous. But if the goal was to stir chaos, rattle markets, confuse diplomats and light trade fires that’ll take years to put out, then it's mission accomplished for Trump and his loyal band of yes-men.

A demised friend's room

When one of my closest friends passed away last January, I knew he had left behind a treasure trove in his room. Among many things, he was a man of books and thought, someone who always found comfort in pages and print. Still, I had no inkling of the extent—or the sheer richness—of what he had kept close to him all those years.

His sister was in the process of clearing out the room and had kindly invited a few of his friends over, suggesting we take anything that held meaning to us, anything we might want to keep as a memento. What I saw when I stepped inside truly astounded me.

One side of his room was lined with bookshelves, every inch occupied. Two full rows were dedicated to computer books—outdated, of course, as technology marches on relentlessly and renders manuals obsolete within years. But beyond that were the real gems: another two rows filled with classic literature and dictionaries. These were books with weight—not just physical, but intellectual and emotional. Titles that spanned centuries, works that had shaped civilisations.

He had been a passionate reader, especially of ancient history. His shelves were filled with Penguin Classics and scholarly translations of the great writers and thinkers of the past—Caesar, Homer, Livy, Plato, Tacitus, Plutarch, Thucydides. It made me pause, because in that moment, I recognised a kindred spirit. When I was in my twenties, I too had spent many hours with Homer, Aeschylus, Sophocles and the like. Oddly enough, we had never discussed our shared reading interests at all, but there it was—evidence that we had been walking rather parallel paths in our separate, private ways.

And then there were the dictionaries. At least three sets of English-language dictionaries, not counting the Bahasa versions. Pride of place went to the Oxford English Reference Dictionary, and beside it, the magnificent two-volume set of the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary (Sixth Edition). They looked almost regal on the shelf, like sentinels watching over him while he read.

His sister had said, “Take whatever you like. Once everyone’s had a look, I’ll be calling the recycling people to clear out the rest.” My heart sank a little at that. These books—these precious written treasures—meant something. They represented a lifetime of curiosity, of quiet evenings, of reflection and learning. To think they might end up in a second-hand shop, or worse, in a landfill, was too much to bear.

So I made a decision. I took what I could—some of the classic titles, these two dictionaries, anything I felt carried a spirit of him—and left the tech manuals behind, naturally. My plan is to donate them to a library, perhaps one that still values the printed word, where students or lovers of history might browse them and feel, as he once must have, a sense of wonder at the past.

It’s a small way to honour him, but one I hope he would have appreciated. Books, after all, aren’t just objects. They’re memories, ideas, voices—and sometimes, they’re the closest we get to holding onto the soul of someone who’s gone. I shall miss you, my old friend, for the conversations we had and the conversations we never had.

When a lunatic swung the tariff bat

The madness began on 02 April 2025. Donald Trump, never one to disappoint in the drama department, decided it was time to unleash his so-called “reciprocal” tariffs on the world. I say “so-called” because what it really looked like was the actions of a raving lunatic waving a very large stick around—hoping to look strong while actually wrecking the room.

He slapped a blanket 10% tariff on practically everything imported into the United States, effective from the fifth of April. No exceptions, no finesse—just a sweeping tax on the world, including some countries and territories that most Americans probably couldn’t even find on a map. But that wasn’t enough. For countries that dared to run a trade surplus with the US—China, the European Union, Japan, South Korea, Taiwan—he decided they deserved something extra. So he rolled out the real meat of the madness: “reciprocal” tariffs at much higher rates, starting on the ninth of April. China, naturally, got singled out for special treatment—34% tariffs right off the bat, on top of what was already in place.

And just like that, the world’s stock markets reeled. Investors panicked. Trillions wiped off global market valuations almost overnight. The Dow plummeted, the FTSE crashed and the Nikkei followed suit in a domino effect of red screens and frantic sell-offs. The volatility index, the VIX, spiked to levels not seen since the height of the 2020 pandemic, signalling extreme market fear. Safe havens like gold and the Swiss franc surged, as investors scrambled to protect their assets. Nobody—literally nobody—had any idea what came next. Trump had done what even major recessions sometimes fail to do: he single-handedly roiled global financial markets with one press conference. Trading floors were a scene of pandemonium, with traders shouting orders and analysts scrambling to reassess their models, which had suddenly become useless. The financial press went into overdrive, headlines screamed about impending economic doom.

On 03 April 2025, Canada had had enough of Trump’s nonsense. Prime Minister Mark Carney retaliated with a 25% tariff on US auto imports. Then came China a day later, matching the 34% tariff and announcing plans to restrict rare earth exports—critical materials for high-tech manufacturing. They also blacklisted 27 US companies. No surprises there. China never blinks, and they certainly didn’t this time.

By 05 April 2025, Trump’s across-the-board 10% tariff officially kicked in. But when 09 April 2025 rolled around—the day everyone expected the next escalation—Trump pulled a semi-surprise: a 90-day pause on most of the additional tariffs… except for China, which got slapped with a 125% tariff. Not to be outdone, China raised theirs to 84%, effective immediately.

The European Union joined the fray too. They cleared retaliatory tariffs on $23 billion worth of US goods, with a staggered implementation plan. Canada was already enforcing its auto tariff response. And just when everyone thought that was the end of it, the White House felt the need to clarify—because apparently even they got confused—that the total tariff on Chinese goods was now 145%.

Throughout this chaotic week, the markets continued their wild swings. Every tweet, every press release, every murmur of a policy shift sent shockwaves across trading floors. Investors were on edge, unsure whether to buy, sell or just wait it out. Uncertainty alone was enough to trigger massive losses. Algorithmic trading and human panic fed off each other, amplifying the volatility. Long-term strategies were thrown out the window, replaced by short-term desperation and damage control.

Amidst the escalating trade war, Xi Jinping responded with a series of pointed remarks, emphasising China's resilience and rejecting what he called “bullying tactics.” He declared that China’s economy was strong enough to withstand external pressure, highlighting efforts to boost domestic consumption and diversify trade partnerships. “China will not yield to unilateral pressure,” he said, framing the US tariffs as a violation of international trade rules. He went on to outline China’s strategic response: retaliatory tariffs, export controls on critical materials and deeper trade ties with other nations. The message couldn’t have been clearer—China wasn’t going to back down, and it would use every economic lever at its disposal to push back.

Adding to this, Chinese officials publicly dismissed Trump’s ballooning tariffs as “nonsense,” bluntly stating that the 125% retaliatory tariff would be their final move. They signalled that any further escalation from the US would not be met with matching increases, suggesting they had no intention of dragging the tit-for-tat battle into mutually assured destruction. Instead, they hinted at other, unspecified measures—more strategic and likely less visible. Many analysts interpreted this as a calculated shift, a move away from headline-grabbing tariffs toward quieter, potentially more targeted non-tariff retaliation. If not de-escalation, then at least a conscious step back from the brink.

But there was more. Late on the 10th of April, in classic Trump fashion, came a policy U-turn. A quiet, late-night announcement retroactively exempted smartphones, computers and certain electronics from the tariffs—backdated to 05 April 2025. Apparently someone remembered that Apple, Dell and the rest of Silicon Valley still mattered. The Customs and Border Protection agency issued the exemption just in time to save Big Tech from what was shaping up to be a supply chain catastrophe.

Tech giants, who had been busy chartering cargo flights to bring in iPhones from India just to avoid tariffs, could finally breathe again. Had the exemption not come through, analysts were warning of price hikes that would’ve made iPhones unaffordable to anyone not named Elon Musk. So yes, crisis averted for the moment.

But what a circus. One man’s impulse-driven decisions sent half the world scrambling, and the other half fuming. Stock markets rocked. Economies braced. And through it all, Trump stood at the centre, convinced the world was about to come kneeling to him in gratitude to kiss his ass.

To the rest of us, it looked more like the global economy being dragged into a ditch by a megalomanic man with a sledgehammer and a very loud megaphone. He insulted his allies, punched his rivals and then acted surprised when they fought back.

And still, some people cheered him on.

Honestly, what do you even say to that?

Faded pages, missing pieces

This is the cover of a very old edition of the Penang Free School Magazine, published in April 1923. It was kindly lent to me by a distinguished Old Free, Lim Chong Keat, who turns 95 this year. Although the magazine is a real gem, it's unfortunately incomplete—only the first eight pages remain. The rest is missing, so I can’t even tell how thick the original issue might have been.

Among the surviving pages is a section titled "School Notes," essentially a diary of events that took place at the School since the previous issue. Reading these notes—whether from this edition or others—helps paint a vivid picture in my mind of how the School operated in years past. While today’s school magazines still include a "School Notes" section, I must admit, the quality just doesn’t feel the same as it once was. The writing tends to lack depth and polish, and often reads more like a list of events than a thoughtful reflection of school life.

Much as today’s editorial board must relearn the art of writing with clarity and engagement, the responsibility also falls on the teacher-advisors to guide and mentor the students properly. Unfortunately, it sometimes feels as though the advisors themselves are unsure of how best to provide this guidance, or perhaps prefer to take a hands-off approach for convenience. With a bit more effort and attention, I believe both students and teachers can once again produce a school magazine that lives up to the proud tradition of its earlier editions.

Kongsi worship

A splendid gathering today for members of Swee Cheok Tong in conjunction with the annual birthday worship of our resident deity, Tai Tay Eah (Poh Seng Tai Tay), held on the 15th day of the third lunar month in the Chinese calendar. This is one of five key occasions that form the core of the Kongsi’s activities for members. We hope to see even more members join us for future celebrations—it’s always meaningful to come together in worship and fellowship.

The main altar comprising the Tai Tay Eah, Lochia Kong and Tua Pek Kong deities

The memorial tablets in the inner hall of the Kongsi

Shared journey ahead

A great get-together yesterday with friends from the Class of 71/73. They were one year my junior at Penang Free School. I was in Form Five in 1970; these fellas were in Form Five in 1971. However, we could be all of the same age. I’m not too sure about Boon Thai, Eng Hong or Hong Pun, but I do know Charn Hong and I were both born in 1954. In fact, we were even in the same Standard One class at Westlands School—until we went our separate ways a year later. Reconnecting much later in our adult lives had been a real source of satisfaction for me.

Eng Hong and I used to live on Seang Tek Road—on opposite sides, but practically diagonally across from each other. Strangely enough, we only got to know each other properly when we joined Ban Hin Lee Bank in the late 1970s. He was working as an internal auditor then. As for Boon Thai, I only got to know him last year, and Hong Pun just this year.

We had lunch together at the OFA Restaurant, and then went upstairs to the Library for some discussions on an upcoming project. All in all, a very meaningful afternoon—with friends bound by time, school and now, a shared journey ahead.

Unbelievably egoistical

The world’s been in turmoil since 02 April 2025, when the maddest madman alive—some say the most egoistical maniac since Emperor Nero—decided to slap tariffs on almost the entire planet, including some unheard-of, uninhabited island somewhere near Antarctica. Whatever twisted strategy it was meant to be, it brought the global stock markets crashing to their knees, wiping out trillions of dollars in value.

And what happened at the end of the day? Donald Trump claimed almost every country came crawling back to, in his own words, kiss his ass. What an idiot. He insults the world, then boasts when others return just to thank him for capping the damage at a mere 10 percent tariff.

But Xi Jinping isn't one for blinking. Maybe it is out of principle, pride or ideology, whatever, China isn't blinking.

When the world’s two biggest economies go head-to-head in a tariff war, who really expects either to back down? It’ll be tit-for-tat until—who knows—kingdom come? One thing’s certain: trade between China and the United States is heading for a near-standstill. Imagine this—imports from China hit with a 125 percent tariff, and goods from the US slapped with an 84 percent duty and likely to climb higher soon.

And China? I'm certain that they've still got weapons to unleash and inflict pain on the United States. Cutting off rare earth exports to the US, for one. Dumping US Treasury securities, for another. As for what cards the US has left up its sleeve—I honestly don’t know.

Trump's chart of tariffs

The tariff rates on US imports that were originally threatened, and those that were announced after the pause on the 9th of April:

Table with 3 columns and 185 rows. Currently displaying rows 1 to 185.

	China	34%	125%
	European Union	20%	10%
	Vietnam	46%	10%
	Taiwan	32%	10%
	Japan	24%	10%
	India	26%	10%
	South Korea	25%	10%
	Thailand	36%	10%
	Switzerland	31%	10%
	Indonesia	32%	10%
	Malaysia	24%	10%
	Cambodia	49%	10%
	United Kingdom	10%	10%
	South Africa	30%	10%
	Brazil	10%	10%
	Bangladesh	37%	10%
	Singapore	10%	10%
	Israel	17%	10%
	Philippines	17%	10%
	Chile	10%	10%
	Australia	10%	10%
	Pakistan	29%	10%
	Turkey	10%	10%
	Sri Lanka	44%	10%
	Colombia	10%	10%
	Peru	10%	10%
	Nicaragua	18%	10%
	Norway	15%	10%
	Costa Rica	10%	10%
	Jordan	20%	10%
	Dominican Republic	10%	10%
	United Arab Emirates	10%	10%
	New Zealand	10%	10%
	Argentina	10%	10%
	Ecuador	10%	10%
	Guatemala	10%	10%
	Honduras	10%	10%
	Madagascar	47%	10%
	Myanmar	44%	10%
	Tunisia	28%	10%
	Kazakhstan	27%	10%
	Serbia	37%	10%
	Egypt	10%	10%
	Saudi Arabia	10%	10%
	El Salvador	10%	10%
	Côte d’Ivoire	21%	10%
	Laos	48%	10%
	Botswana	37%	10%
	Trinidad and Tobago	10%	10%
	Morocco	10%	10%
	Algeria	30%	10%
	Oman	10%	10%
	Uruguay	10%	10%
	Bahamas	10%	10%
	Lesotho	50%	10%
	Ukraine	10%	10%
	Bahrain	10%	10%
	Qatar	10%	10%
	Mauritius	40%	10%
	Fiji	32%	10%
	Iceland	10%	10%
	Kenya	10%	10%
	Liechtenstein	37%	10%
	Guyana	38%	10%
	Haiti	10%	10%
	Bosnia and Herzegovina	35%	10%
	Nigeria	14%	10%
	Namibia	21%	10%
	Brunei	24%	10%
	Bolivia	10%	10%
	Panama	10%	10%
	Venezuela	15%	10%
	North Macedonia	33%	10%
	Ethiopia	10%	10%
	Ghana	10%	10%
	Moldova	31%	10%
	Angola	32%	10%
	Democratic Republic of the Congo	11%	10%
	Jamaica	10%	10%
	Mozambique	16%	10%
	Paraguay	10%	10%
	Zambia	17%	10%
	Lebanon	10%	10%
	Tanzania	10%	10%
	Iraq	39%	10%
	Georgia	10%	10%
	Senegal	10%	10%
	Azerbaijan	10%	10%
	Cameroon	11%	10%
	Uganda	10%	10%
	Albania	10%	10%
	Armenia	10%	10%
	Nepal	10%	10%
	Sint Maarten	10%	10%
	Falkland Islands	41%	10%
	Gabon	10%	10%
	Kuwait	10%	10%
	Togo	10%	10%
	Suriname	10%	10%
	Belize	10%	10%
	Papua New Guinea	10%	10%
	Malawi	17%	10%
	Liberia	10%	10%
	British Virgin Islands	10%	10%
	Afghanistan	10%	10%
	Zimbabwe	18%	10%
	Benin	10%	10%
	Barbados	10%	10%
	Monaco	10%	10%
	Syria	41%	10%
	Uzbekistan	10%	10%
	Republic of the Congo	10%	10%
	Djibouti	10%	10%
	French Polynesia	10%	10%
	Cayman Islands	10%	10%
	Kosovo	10%	10%
	Curaçao	10%	10%
	Vanuatu	22%	10%
	Rwanda	10%	10%
	Sierra Leone	10%	10%
	Mongolia	10%	10%
	San Marino	10%	10%
	Antigua and Barbuda	10%	10%
	Bermuda	10%	10%
	Eswatini	10%	10%
	Marshall Islands	10%	10%
	Saint Pierre and Miquelon	10%	10%
	Saint Kitts and Nevis	10%	10%
	Turkmenistan	10%	10%
	Grenada	10%	10%
	Sudan	10%	10%
	Turks and Caicos Islands	10%	10%
	Aruba	10%	10%
	Montenegro	10%	10%
	Saint Helena	10%	10%
	Kyrgyzstan	10%	10%
	Yemen	10%	10%
	Saint Vincent and the Grenadines	10%	10%
	Niger	10%	10%
	Saint Lucia	10%	10%
	Nauru	30%	10%
	Equatorial Guinea	13%	10%
	Iran	10%	10%
	Libya	31%	10%
	Samoa	10%	10%
	Guinea	10%	10%
	Timor-Leste	10%	10%
	Montserrat	10%	10%
	Chad	13%	10%
	Mali	10%	10%
	Maldives	10%	10%
	Tajikistan	10%	10%
	Cabo Verde	10%	10%
	Burundi	10%	10%
	Guadeloupe	10%	10%
	Bhutan	10%	10%
	Martinique	10%	10%
	Tonga	10%	10%
	Mauritania	10%	10%
	Dominica	10%	10%
	Micronesia	10%	10%
	Gambia	10%	10%
	French Guiana	10%	10%
	Christmas Island	10%	10%
	Andorra	10%	10%
	Central African Republic	10%	10%
	Solomon Islands	10%	10%
	Mayotte	10%	10%
	Anguilla	10%	10%
	Cocos (Keeling) Islands	10%	10%
	Eritrea	10%	10%
	Cook Islands	10%	10%
	South Sudan	10%	10%
	Comoros	10%	10%
	Kiribati	10%	10%
	São Tomé and Príncipe	10%	10%
	Norfolk Island	10%	10%
	Gibraltar	10%	10%
	Tuvalu	10%	10%
	British Indian Ocean Territory	10%	10%
	Tokelau	10%	10%
	Guinea-Bissau	10%	10%
	Svalbard and Jan Mayen	10%	10%
	Heard and McDonald Islands	10%	10%
	Réunion	10%	10%