A Moment of Revolution

I'm gonna fight 'em off
A seven nation army couldn't hold me back
... ...
Don't wanna hear abt it,
Everybody's got a story to tell.
Everyone knows about it,
From the Queen of England to the Hounds of Hell.
... ...
I'm going to Wichita
Far from this opera forever more.
- "Seven Nation Army" by The White Stripes.

I'm feeling very rebellious today, quietly stewing in my own revolutionary fervor while riding the bus to work with the regulation 50 standing and 121 sitting passengers.

Force of habit - how formidable it is. You take the bus at the same time every morning, such that on days off you'd wake up at the same time too, feeling vaguely disoriented that you aren't doing the weekdaily rush in the morning. Why do people find comfort in routine? Are adaptation and change and flexibility really that intimidating and scary? Probably because to be able to deal with change, we have to be firm and sure of our own selves. Truth and strength of character, trust in belief. Conviction of purpose, courage to hope.

Sounds scary indeed, yet full of promise. On days like this, when the sun is shining in a cobalt blue sky, the breeze is gentle and the birdsong is clear, I'm riding in the bus with 171 other working stiffs to the same financial district. Yet I feel like raising my own seven-nation army to strike out at the rest of the world where a salaried job and 9 to 5 have no meaning.

Then I realize I'm punching these thoughts into a corporate-issued blackberry and I come back to earth. Just in time as the bus arrives at the stop below my office building.

On the same note of revolution, wyjunkie talks about why she wouldn't want to live during Napoleonic times... then again, in that era, people used to sleep at 4 am and wake up at noon. Now that's a revolution.

99 Years

It's almost unimaginable, 99 years. That's the extent of a leasehold piece of property in Singapore. 1 year less than a Century. 3 times at long as I've been alive.

That's how old my Grandfather is now. This past weekend was his birthday celebration. In traditional Chinese style, it was a 10-course birthday banquet in a restaurant that Grandpa likes. In true Family style, people that haven't been heard from in years come out of the woodwork. In fine Empire style, our immediate family numbered 45 people (with at least half a dozen absentees).

In classic Grandpa style, he braved the walk with his trusty cane to go to every table, carry every great-grandchild, and smile and chat to every single one of his family. Even if the hearing aid is picking up noise that gives him a headache, even if it's way past his bedtime and he's feeling fatigued.

I wonder what goes through his mind on a day like this. Is he gratified to have had so many years? Is he comforted that his whole family is there, including all the black sheeps and self-exiled grandchildren and innocent great-grandchildren? Is this everything he expected he would have when he left China over 70 years to sail for the unknown waters of the South China Sea? Is he bitter that my grandmother is no longer around to see this?

Grandpa is one of the rare few that are alive in Singapore today, who can proudly call themselves pioneers of the country. He's not a world-renowned politician or minister, nor a well-beloved leader of a country, nor a colonial stoolie who was somehow feted as the father of a country instead of the working stiff that he was.

Grandpa is one of the millions that left the old country, in search of a new life, a new opportunity. He left behind a wife and child for this voyage, because to not do so may have meant they wouldn't survive. To arrive in a fledgling country in his 20's rubbing shoulders with the multitudes just like him, scrabbling against them after the few jobs available, finding something that required more than just mere brawn, proving himself to the mentors and teachers, establishing credibility with his neighbors and business dealers and finally hanging out his own shingle despite all advice against it. Maintaining the straight and narrow, keeping integrity and honesty when so much is tempting him to walk to easy path.

I can't talk about Grandpa in just one blogpost. His life is just too full and too long to be done justice with one entry. Stay tuned, more will follow about him.

Happy Birthday, Gonggong.

Grandpa (left) and his brother


Four Generations



A Pandemonium of Great-Grandchildren




See here for pictures from the Birthday Banquet.

Fighting Back

These pictures made my heart clench when I think of the indefagitable fighting spirit of people when faced with insurmountable odds. They were inspiring to me, perhaps to you as well.





This year is the 30th anniversary of the Fall of Saigon. It was in March, but I've been unwittingly drawn to look at pictures taken of those terrible years. When delicate-looking Vietnamese girls carry their Soviet-machine guns to stand guard amongst the rice stalks. When a valiant soldier fighting for a cause stops for a moment to bathe in the beauty of his beloved's smile. Photo Credit: Mr. Thanh, and Mr. Nam.




Tai Long Wan, or Big Wave Bay, is one of the trickiest bodies of water in Hong Kong to manouver your kayak on. And this is a pronouncement made by no less than intrepid adventurer/photographer/writer Bruce Kirkby, in his article (it's an old one) in Outpost magazine. Just to remind people that Hong Kong is more than shopping and tall buildings. This picture shows a triumphant Christine (Bruce's partner) after beating the waves at Big Wave Bay. Photo Credit: Bruce Kirkby



U.S. soldiers are still there. Clinging to flagging spirits, hoping to make a difference. In the face of this sandstorm, perhaps it's just as well that they'll be patrolling the streets at the mercy of possibly another suicide bomber. Photo Credit: BBC Photographer, http://news.bbc.co.uk

Back to regularly scheduled programming ... soon.

I've been quiet - for many reasons:

1. Had to see about a boy.
Somewhere within the madcap schedule of shuttling in between Hong Kong and Singapore, work and pleasure, quiet and activity, friends and family, pictures and movies, drinks and tea, meals and snacks, cities and country, mountains and beaches, it's even - gulp - fun, keeping this going. He is in Nias right now, also known as earthquake-tremor-central-off-the-west-coast-of-Sumatra, volunteering with tsunami rebuilding efforts. Acting on what he believes, the best way he knows how.

2. Death had a busy few weeks.

After my grandmother's passing, five more people left this world - some close to me, others close to others that are close to me. No justification, sudden accidents, long-running illnesses. Witness to grief, heartbreak, relief, shock, numbness, emptiness, love, support, patience, and empathy. I didn't think my heart could take more and another one would happen. Death is part of life, they say. I wonder if they forgot to mention that with each death of someone you know, a part of your living soul goes too. Not to mention the part that aches with burning emptiness when you are holding a grieving person in your arms. We'll just have to go about filling it with love, laughter and remembrance. Because all that they were, all that matters, they still are. In our hearts.

3. The road to Hell - and Motherhood - is paved with good intentions.
Mama visited me in Hong Kong for almost 3 weeks. As much as there were words that couldn't be said, a silent barrier to communication, it was the most heartwrenching, frustrating, molly-coddling, invigorating, conflicting and exasperating few weeks in a long while. The thing is, love has nothing to do with it. Daughter loves Mother, Mother loves Daughter. This basic equation has absolutely no impact on how a 3-week visit in a cramped Hong Kong apartment will go. People around us get to hear more about what we thought of each other, than what we were prepared to say out loud directly to each other's faces. Good intentions govern her actions - after all, motherly love is forever. Good intentions govern mine - after all, my mother is visiting and I need to show her a good time. Yet time after time, I still haven't learned the lesson that force of habit is formidable indeed. I don't think this trip was necessarily fulfilling for her - it was certainly a strange one for me.

4. Rai Lay

Went to Rai Lay, off the coast of Krabi, on the other side of Phuket. In the middle of monsoon season. What the heck were we thinking. But we did get in a few good days of climbing, which was the whole reason to be there, really. Awesome rock, I did some new things (like my first lead climbs! Woo hoo!), experienced some new trips (yes, with a capital "T"), and had to acknowledge that vertigo is going to be my archilles heel for a long while. But watch if I don't get over it. Cos no phobia is going to tell me what to do.

Seriously, more posts coming soon. Clearly I've been busy. Am back in the groove of business travel and the boarding announcement calls.