Wesley Sneijder (Real Madrid)

Quick, quick. What's the difference between
Wesley Sneijder and David Beckham?

Answer: One wears the No23 shirt, scores free-kicks, delivers 45-yard assists, is adored by fans and speaks perfect English. The other is David Beckham.

Want to read the rest of this very interesting article from Guardian Unlimited? Click here.

Hotel California

When I was still at BHL Bank, one of my colleagues there, Cynthia, was a very devout Catholic. One day, we were listening to the all-new Talk Radio that had just been launched by AMP Radio Network. Talk Radio was like a breath of fresh air in an unimaginative local broadcast industry but unfortunately, it could not be sustained and it's been off the air for many, many years now.

"I wouldn't listen to that song if I were you," she told me suddenly as the Eagle's Hotel California played in the background. It has a catchy rhythm, I replied, what's wrong with that?

"Yes, I know. I used to like it until I listened closely to the lyrics. Have you?" she asked.

I had to admit that I did not. That conversation passed out of my mind, forgotten like so many others. But it is rather funny that something in the future may one day trigger back the memory. I heard the song play on the radio this morning and it stayed with me until I reached the office. Memories came flooding back. What was it that Cynthia said to me almost 11 years ago about this song? Ah, yes, the lyrics.

Like a man obsessed, I've been googling this song. I've now read the lyrics and I've seen the cover art. It's taken of the Beverly Hills Hotel in California at dusk. And of course, I've been reading all the urban legends and interpretations of the lyrics.

Some say it was a song about drug addiction ("warm smells of colitas rising through the air" is the scent of burning marijuana); others say the song was about a mental hospital. But the most enduring rumour was that the Eagles were singing about devil worship. Is it true? Devil worship? I don't know. Were these lyrics alluding to devil worship? You judge for yourself:

We are all just prisoners here
Of our own device
And in the master's chambers
They gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives
But they just can't kill the beast
Last thing I remember
I was running for the door
I had to find the passage back to the place I was before
Relax said the nightman
We are programmed to receive
You can check out any time you like
But you can never leave

Maybe I'm an alarmist but everytime I read about something where you can go in and cannot come out, I get the shivers about getting myself trapped and seeing no way to escape. I feel sick in the stomach. The last time I felt like that was when I was crawling in the pitch darkness of the Cuchi tunnel in Vietnam. Complete disorientation.

Nevertheless, let me try to set the record straight about this song, at least my version of it. In 1995, Don Henley - he's one of the Eagles - said the song captured the mood of the period that the song was written. It was a time of great excess in the United States. It was about losing one's innocence, the corruption of impressionable rock stars by the decadent Los Angeles music industry. California was a gilded prison that an artiste freely enters only to discover that he cannot escape from its clutches later. [Ref: snopes.com]

New orchid bud

About 10 days ago, I started noticing a little bud appearing on one of my vanda orchid plants.


I had bought it at the Penang Flora Fest in May but to be very frank, I don't even know its specie or hybrid. The only stalk of flowers on the vanda was already wilting. Pardon the quality of the photograph below. It was the only picture I took of a flower on a spur of the moment before I cut it away. But I do know that it was sort of bluish purple. Maybe not as purple as this picture suggests but bluer.


So this is the first flower stalk to appear since I brought the plant home. It has been growing steadily and today, it has reached this size. I can't wait to see the bloom. Luckily, it has not been a nine-month wait.


By the way, does anyone know what this means? It's a label on this plant but I can't for the world make out whether it's English or some other language. If it's not English, what is it??

Mooncakes

Since moving to Bukit Mertajam more than two years ago, I've discovered that the Chinese population on the mainland - especially the Teochews and the Hakkas - tend to go overboard with their religious practices, more so than almost everyone else in Penang. A religious occasion is simply the right cue for them to pray more intensely and provide more offerings at the altars. The ritual is almost like an obsession.

My family is not like that. It could be because we are Hokkien, so we have always prayed with moderation. Maybe this is also because of my family's leaning towards Theravada Buddhism instead of Mahayana.

But being Chinese means that no matter what you believe in, there is no escaping the observance of some taboos. That's why in my earlier post on the Month of the hungry ghosts, I did not deliberately use any photo of the Tai Su Yeah or the God of the Underworld. I didn't want to upset any of you with such photos. But you can see what The Star had written about the Tai Su Yeah here and here.

Similarly, I won't be showing anyone the single snapshot I took at my aunt's funeral in Kuala Lumpur recently. My wife was rather upset that I had done so and insisted that I erase the picture from the camera and my computer. That's taboo for you. But I guess it was alright with her that I should write about the Ven Suvanno's passing last March.

Anyway, the Chinese seventh lunar month is about to come to an end on 10 Sep 2007. There's slightly more than a week before we go full swing into the eighth lunar month and you know what? It's time for the moon cake festival. Sweet, sweet moon cakes. How can you ever resist the taste of lotus paste moon cakes or moon cakes of just about every other flavour?


When I was very young, moon cakes were only sold during the eighth lunar month itself unlike today when companies mass produce moon cakes as early as the start of the seventh lunar month. That's commercialism for you. Packaging has also improved by leaps and bounds, and consumers are enticed as much by the packaging as the moon cakes themselves.

Back then, there was nothing adventurous about the flavours. In fact, when I was young, I hated moon cakes because of the blandness. But I've just finished one filled with chocolate and cream cheese and started on another tasting of expresso and chestnuts. Exotic tastes. The other day, my family was enjoying a double egg yolk lotus paste moon cake. Wahh!


Well, there are three weeks to go until the 15th day of the eighth lunar month (25 Sep 2007). Three more weeks for these moon cake bakeries to fleece consumers of their money (or haven't you noticed that the price of moon cakes seem to be going up every year because of "increasing cost of raw materials"?) And then, suddenly, on 26 Sep 2007, it'll be over. Everything ends. No more moon cakes on sale. No more moon cakes on offer. Just like that.

Invited to an Indian wedding

It's not often that we are invited to attend the wedding of an Indian friend. As far as I can remember, this is only the fourth time in the past 10 years. Imagine that! So my family will be going tonight to Kulim for the wedding reception. I'm sure there'll be lots of interesting things to see.

I was amazed that the invitation card was so elaborate. Surely, it puts our own Chinese invitation cards to shame. Traditionally, ours is simply red but lately, I seen more imagination and thought going into the card designs. Theirs? All sorts of intricate designs. You can see what I mean below. And the food. I'm certainly looking forward to it.

Life-sized mythology

I was at this place called Bee Chin Heong in Kimberley Street, Penang this morning and I couldn't help not taking this snapshot of Tripitaka and his three disciples. No prize for guessing correctly who the three disciples are. Bee Chin Heong sells all kinds of prayer paraphernalia for Chinese devotees.

Anyway, the four statues are almost life-sized - I'm not kidding you and here's proof: one of my relatives standing beside a statue - and would fit nicely into anybody's garden ... IF the garden is big enough.

Oh yes, I also came across this. It's so huge that I doubt whether Wong Fei Hong would be able to play with it, let alone dance with it. I think it's more suitable as a display item inside someone's mansion or a Chinese association.

Lightenng up

Today has been a day of rant and reflection. Not any ordinary reflection but Introspective Reflection. It has been heavy on me.

It's almost 9pm; the day is almost done, so I guess it is time to lighten up and loosen up. Pop the cork and enjoy what's left of our 50th anniversary bash. I can't wait for the next 50 years to come rolling by, can you?

So let me end today with this hilarious Safety Rules from the "1962 Honda Motorcycle Instruction Book. Translated by Honda for the American Motorcycle Rider", couched in a way that only the Japanese could understand. Note: some say that this was written in the 1930s, others say it could have been issued in the 1950s. No matter, there are various versions and this seems to be the definitive one:

At the rise of a hand from a policeman, stop rapidly. Do not pass him or otherwise disrespect him. When a passenger of the foot comes in sight, tootee the horn trumpet to him melodiously at first. If he still obstacles your passage, tootee him with vigour and express by word of mouth the warning, 'Hi, hi!' Beware of the wandering horse that he shall not take fright as you pass by. Do not explode the exhaust box at him. Go soothingly by, or stop by the roadside till he passes away. Give big space to the festive dog that makes sport in the roadway. Avoid entanglement of dog with wheel spokes. Go smoothly along on the grease mud, as there lurks the skid demon. Press the brake of the foot as you roll around the corner to save the collapse and fold up.

George Town, you're 50 too!

What I really want to do today is to shout:

And don't you forget it!


Happy 50th Birthday to the city where I was born...

On 1 January 1957, George Town was conferred city status by a Royal Charter granted by Queen Elizabeth II, becoming the only city in Malaysia with such a unique status.

George Town's Royal Charter provided that:

"the said Municipality of George Town shall on the First Day of January in the Year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and fifty seven and forever thereafter be a city and shall be called and styled the CITY OF GEORGE TOWN instead of the Municipality of George Town and shall thenceforth have all such rank, liberties, privileges and immunities as are incident to a city."

Several federal ordinances and acts still refer to the City of George Town, such as the City of George Town Ordinance 1957. According to Penang Heritage Trust (PHT) trustee Datuk Anwar Fazal, George Town "legally has been and is still a city [because] the City of George Town Ordinance 1957 had not been repealed" ("Penang Forgetting Its History", The Star, 1 Jan 2007).

And I want this resolution passed in Parliament declaring that:

George Town is a city;

George Town is Malaysia's first city;

George Town's status as Malaysia's first city must never and will never be questioned!

That's all I really want this Merdeka...

50 years: a path of no return

When I was still in primary school in the 1960s, the teachers used to tell us to show our love of the country by singing songs such as Berjaya. So, singing these patriotic songs became a staple diet with us. We might have been too young to understand what they meant but we still sang with gusto. Boy, it demonstrated our love of the country.

Today, especially this month, I've been hearing a lot of this song again in, of all places, the shopping malls. Was there a directive to the malls that they must play these songs?

Listening to this song again brought a lump to my throat. Has it been so long ago? There I was, a child barely of age to apply for an identity card and here I am, old enough to see my children graduate from college.

But of course, it is different. I still love my country. I was born here and I'll continue living here. But I've also become skeptical with the developments around me. What used to be accepted without question, I now look at issues with a more critical eye. In my secondary school days, my friends and I accepted one another with scant disregard of race or religion. I could count as my jolly good friends classmates who were Malays, Indians and Sikhs. We joked a lot in class and outside class but we never took any slights into our hearts. We didn't have to remember to be more sensitive of what we eat and say to the people around us.

Yes, the country has certainly progressed. The country has prospered. Where before half the country was agricultural, today we have manufacturing and the service industry leading us forward. Quality of life has generally improved. There are new houses to buy, new cars to ogle at, new shopping malls to visit, new toys and gadgets for the young and not-so-young, new products to pamper the vane. Yet, amidst all the material instant gratification, the situation has also changed for worse in many aspects during the past 40-odd years. I put this squarely at the feet of our politicians. They have led this country down an irreversible path of no return. How can it be that we continue to turn a blind eye to the racial polarisation in this country? How can it be that we continue to turn a blind eye to the religious divide? How can it be that we continue to turn a blind eye to the discriminations in the country? How can it be that we continue to turn a blind eye to the social labelling in this country? How can it be that we continue to tolerate the politicians who have exploited these issues for far too long?

But what can we do as we continue willy-nilly down this path of no return? To me, the damage of the past 40-odd years cannot be undone with the snap of the fingers. We cannot wake up tomorrow and say, okay, everything is back to square one. No, if we are serious in undoing all the wrongs inflicted on the citizens of this country, I foresee that it'll take at least two generations to heal the damage. Two generations, unless we are hijacked again by the politicians for their own personal agendas. I am not confident at all.

So there you are: a Malaysia still beset with racial polarisation, religious divide, discriminations, social labelling and exploiting politicians after 50 years of accepting a social contract that was drawn up by our founding fathers but is now being questioned and ignored by politicians who think they are doing us all a favour. Thanks but no thanks for your favours.

But do I love my country any less? I may be disillusioned with the issues around me but no, I do not love my country any less. It's just as strong. I love my country but not the asses and the morons and the holier-than-thous and the I'm-doing-it-for-your-own-good around me.

Coming back to the patriotic song Berjaya. Listening to it today, it feels positively out-of-date. It's now an old-fashioned, military-type song. Does it still stir patriotism in my loins? Not any more. In fact, it's not only an old-fashioned, military-type song but it hints at music that's typically composed during the communism era of the 1960s. I'm sorry to say this but having looked at life for slightly more than half a century, that's how bad I perceive this song to be now. It's become a silly tune.

Merdeka

I've always wanted to use one of these photos of the Tunku when he was proclaiming Merdeka seven times. I never had the opportunity until now.

As we celebrate....

O, Malaysia, my country!
What does the future hold for you?
What does the future hold for me?
What does the future hold for my children?

Spirit of Merdeka

As I write this post, midnight is just less than 14 hours away. That's right, our country's 50th anniversary of independence is right round the corner. Since the beginning of this month, all the newspapers are full with news of Merdeka and full of reflections and reminiscences from people still alive who celebrated 31 Aug 1957.

Are you excited? Are you a pre-independence baby or are you a product of post-independence? Are you excited? Life couldn't be better in this time of euphoria, right? Are you really excited?

But let's not get carried away. As we look to the future, we know that this nation has progressed in the last 50 years. Maybe not in the way you or I may prefer, but it has progressed nevertheless. But even as we continue to move ahead, we should spare a thought for those who are less fortunate and have been left behind by progress.


I was filled with despair when I saw these two lonely, destitute ladies sitting together along Campbell Street in Penang with their meagre belongings stuffed into thin plastic bags. They were lost in their own world. Today is meaningless to them, just like yesterday was equally meaningless and tomorrow will probably be too. They have no where else to go and nobody else to turn to. They only have this companionship and they do not look forward to their next meals. Worse, the lady on the right looked sick. Spare a thought for them and give them a meal when you see them next around the city. That should be the spirit of Merdeka ... for them, for you, for me.

Remembering the Tunku

With only two days to go before the 50th anniversary of the country's independence, here are some of my wife's cherished memories from meeting Malaysia's founding father, Tengku Abdul Rahman, at his Ayer Rajah Road residence in Penang long after his retirement.





As for me, the closest I ever got to meeting him was when he dropped by his alma mater, the Penang Free School, to declare open the Khutub Khanah Tunku on 29 Dec 1969. It was still the end-of-year school holidays but I made it a point to be present at the school. We were in awe of him, man!

Solskjaer retires

Thank you for 11 years of service. And thank you for your contribution to the Champions League match against Bayern Munich in 1999.

Ballyhooed lunar eclipse

When the rain came down in sheets this morning, I was quietly calling on it to stop soon. It wasn't because I needed to go out for lunch. Rather, it was because of tonight's much publicised total eclipse of the moon which I wanted to watch.

But what happened?? The rain did stop but the sky was full of clouds. Clouds that completely obscured the heavens. And the lunar eclipse? A total wash-out, I tell you. If there's anyone in Penang that tells you that he saw the partial eclipse from here, you'd better take his tale with a grain of salt. Then chase him away.

However, just because we didn't see it from Penang doesn't mean that it did not happen. The lunar eclipse did happen and millions of people around the Pacific basin saw it except us, like for example, in Auckland:


Lunar eclipses happen when the moon moves into the shadow of the earth. It only occurs at the full moon and it turns the colour of the moon into rusty red. I was hoping to see that. Lunar eclipses are not that uncommon and I've witnessed a few before. But I've never experienced a total lunar eclipse.

There are many old wive's tales associated with eclipses but one story that has been going round and around in recent years is the association of lunar eclipses with earthquakes or volcanic eruptions.

It's postulated that when the sun, the earth and the moon are roughly aligned in a straight line, the gravitational forces of the sun and the moon on the earth are the strongest. The forces exert a lot of pull on the tectonic plates and occasionally, when the plates slip, seismic tremors are felt along the earth's rings of fire.

So will we witness another natural disaster within the next few hours? I can only hope that this story will remain just that: a fanciful story. The world doesn't need more disasters. There are already more than we can handle presently.

Notice in Shigatze hotel

One of my colleagues came back from a vacation to the interior of China recently and all he brought back for me to see was this crappy digitised photo of a notice in a hotel room in Shigatze. Some more, it wasn't even on his harddisk or thumbdrive. I had to go to Flickr to see it and his other holiday photos. So here it is, Ted's crappy but hilarious photo from China. If you cannot read it well, here is the full version:

NOTICE TO THE GUEST

I. Be dissatisfied with if to service, but dial since guesthouse inside telephone connections accuses telephone 8888 during that period when the guest stops at an inn.

II. According to the regulations of public stations,prostitution , vistprosti-tutes,gambling can not be allowed, visisters must leave guest room be-fore11:30pm.

III. Valuable things, cash, certificate to deposit in the reception desk safetybox, if they are left in the guest rooms or public area,Hotel will not beresponsible for the loss.

IV. In order to ensure public safety,please do not carry combustibles, cor-rode, narcotic drugs into Hotel.

V. Please take god care of Hotel facilities.youshould pay for the damages.do not allowed to pull electric wire, install electric equipments, burn any things in your room.

VI. Please be quiet, do not make any noises or get drunk create a disturbance.

Thanks for your cooperation
Xizang Xigaze Tai Xing City guesthouse

Coliseum Cafe

Last Saturday week (18 Aug 2007), I went with my son to lunch at the Coliseum Cafe & Hotel in Jalan Tuanku Abdul Rahman, Kuala Lumpur. It had been exactly 33 years and 14 days since I last stepped foot into the Coliseum Cafe. Actually, this would only be my second time; the first and last time that I had been inside this very old - in fact, you can call it historical - building was on 4 Aug 1974.

Want to know how I could remember this date? Click here.



Anyway, time seemed to have slowed down once you are through the doors. Not stopped but slowed down ... considerably. Little had noticeably changed if my memory served me right. The old tables were there, the old but clean starchy table cloths covering the tables, the old ceiling fans turning lazily, the old air-conditioners humming away, the old coat hangers adorning the walls, the old gents and ladies' cloakrooms with their swing doors, the sturdy old staircase, the old bar that's still the centre of attraction (other than the food), the old sofa sets...

Everything from that old, wistful period still seemed to be around except perhaps the old staff. Surely, the staff I saw in the cafe couldn't have lasted the last 30 years or so...or could they?? If these were newer staff, they still looked old enough and they were in the same, old starchy white uniforms. And the menu. Well, I'm sure that it was not as old as the staff. It actually looked relatively new.





When we stepped in the cafe, I expected that maybe the service had changed and we would be shown to an empty table. But no, we were simply asked to just go sit down anywhere. Ahh...perhaps we were unfamiliar faces. I let that pass. I was determined to enjoy myself and relive the past. So I chose to sit strategically at the back so I could watch people going by.

I did enjoy myself watching the food being served and the types of people that came into the cafe. The food we ordered was also interesting. I had some fish and prawns with some cheesy mashed potatoes and drowned in some non-descript sauce while my son had a 4-in-1 comprising chicken, ham and what-not rolled tight and deep fried. Okay-lah was all he would comment about his choice of food.


I had an opportunity to speak briefly with the lady proprietress before I left the cafe and she told me that the hotel now catered mainly to backpackers. During the colonial and pre-independent days, prominent guests such as the Tunku used to room here but that's completely from another era. Even as we talked, one came in and climbed the stairs. I wanted to go up too to see how the place looked like but was distracted by something else. Maybe I should have. I really wouldn't know when I'll be able to revisit the Coliseum Cafe again...

Bob Dylan, The Band and Harry Belafonte

Here are my latest music purchases. Two compact discs bought at Tower Records, MidValley Megamall when I was there last weekend.



I had been very interested in the Before The Flood double-CD from Bob Dylan and The Band for quite some time and I couldn't pass up the chance to add this to my CD collection since Tower Records were having a 20 percent discount sale.

I was listening to this CD yesterday and today, and I was blown away by the atmosphere. Initially, I wondered why Dylan seemed to be shouting and dragging out the last syllable of his sentences, as if The Band were attempting to drown him but later, I realised that he was positively enjoying himself. Anyway, it was his concert and he blardy well could do whatever he wanted. The Band were in fine form too, not only when they were backing Dylan but also when they played some of their most well-received numbers.

I had no hesitation when I picked up The Essential Harry Belafonte from the record store. Surely, this double-CD would justify putting down my money for it. I was already familiar with Belafonte's work from two CDs in my collection - Belafonte At Carnegie Hall and Belafonte Returns To Carnegie Hall. But here was a collection of his best songs, all personally selected by him.

While listening to the CD today in my car, I was also reading the liner notes. Can you imagine my surprise to learn that the very first track in this collection, Midnight Special, actually featured Bob Dylan making his first professional appearance as a musician by playing the harmonica.

Sometimes, you'd think that fate was funny. When I bought the two compact discs, I had no clue that Dylan would be the connection between the two discs. But yes, he actually was.

Goodbye, Gaby!

Betrayal: A short story in five acts

WHAT A DISGRACE, GABRIEL HEINZE!

ACT ONE:
Gaby: Boss, I've a serious injury. Can I have my rehab in Spain?
Fergie: Sure, Gaby, sure.

ACT TWO:
Gaby: Boss, I'm still unfit, but can I go play in the World Cup?
Fergie: Yes, Gaby, yes.

ACT THREE:
Gaby: Boss, I haven't recovered from the World Cup. Looks like I'm going to miss the start of the season!
Fergie: Okay, Gaby, okay.

ACT FOUR:
Gaby: Boss, not that I'm ungrateful or anything like that, but I want to be the first player since 1962 to transfer to Anfield.
Fergie: Why, Gaby, why?

ACT FIVE:
Gaby: Boss, I feel betrayed. I want to move to Real Madrid now. Maybe, they'll appreciate my loyalty better! You don't deserve me.
Fergie: Go, Gaby, go.

Hill rape (3)

No where else but along the North-South Expressway can you see the widespread, wanton destruction to our natural beauty. Whether you are travelling from north to south or in the opposite direction, you cannot but feel an outrage at the company or companies that are simply gnawing away at our hills for commercial gain. You'll see these sights near the Ipoh South Toll Plaza.


Who is going to take responsibility for allowing this destruction to occur? The companies are blasting away the hills to recover the granite or limestone or marble because there are consumers who want to buy them! If there is no demand, there will be no supply. So are the consumers to blame?

Or does the responsibility lie with the companies involved with the blasting? Do they see commercial gain in the rocks that are beneath the top soil of the hills? When you travel along this stretch of the expressway, you are either silent with rage or dumbstruck with awe. Take your pick. It makes little difference. Or do you care at all about the destruction?


Maybe, the responsibility lies ultimately with the Perak state government. Why are they allowing this to happen right in front of everyone? The land is everyone's heritage; why allow it to be destroyed? Perhaps the approval was given a long time ago. But why wasn't there a constant monitoring of the work that was going around these hills? Is the government helpless? Are their hands tied? Is the government so insensitive towards everything? Are the authorities looking the other way? It took eons for the land to form in its natural beauty but it takes just one blast to open up a wound.


And this is the grand-daddy of all the blast sites - an enormous cliff of exposed marble. I guess the consumers, the companies and the government are hardly concerned about this. But ... what about the residents of Ipoh themselves? Has any concerted effort been made to stop the activities?


And this is evidence that the blasts are still on-going. Puffs of smoke that linger behind with every additional cutting away of the hills around Ipoh. If the residents and environmental activists are not playing their parts, then I suppose there is nothing more to say. Best of luck to the people of Ipoh. You really got what you voted for: a government that cares two hoots for the conservation of the environment.