Night of Bellydancers

The night is for the bellydancers.

They are students and teachers from Claribel's Raks Sharki Studio.

They are seasoned performers, on-going students and newbies; they danced their best for their fellow dancers, friends and family.

I have said it before, and I say it again - there is something honest and sincere about the dancers who perform on this platform.

And there is a lot to be said about the principal/owner of the dance studio who continues to provide this opportunity for the dancers and their fans.

Night of Chili Crab

We had planned a Chili Crab night with the friends but it was a long time coming because of busy work/travel/social schedules. Finally, it was D-Day.

It was such a biggie with the guys. A whole week before the date, the man went every day to the crab vendor to check on the supply of fresh crabs. The man's BFF said if there were no crabs at this one location on the day, they will both source from another vendor across the island.

Thankfully, picking up the crabs did not pose a problem. In fact, the crabman helped us select the crabs.

Then the furious cooking among the friends. The final spread - freshly rolled Vietnamese spring roll (not featured in picture), sambal prawns, fried bee hoon, chili crabs. We actually had to struggle to put away some of the cakes came dessert time.

We had a grand time putting the dinner together. But, oh the work!

I think we will let the Chili Crab restaurants do the cooking the next time Crab fever hits.

Doggy love

A cousin and an uncle lost their pet dogs after a brief period of age-related illness. Understandably, the two men are devastated and in inconsolable mourning.

I wish I could do or say something to make the grief more bearable. I wish they could be more like me and talk about their loss. But no, they are grief stricken, and family members insist that no mention be made of the dogs.

While I respect their wishes, I still think it is too bad that the men and their families take this approach.

My ace dog passed away many years ago. I still tear up when I talk about her. I had dogs after her, and I loved every one of them dearly and cared for them as much. They in turn gave me many happy years of doggy fun and love. But my ace dog is the only one who can walk on water, you see.

The grieving is normal and inevitable. But there are so many good memories to cherish. So, grieve in whatever form it takes, and take however long is necessary.

Just do not shut off the mind and heart to another mutt who is waiting to share his doggy life with you. When you are ready to love again.

The Belly Dance Hip Scarf

There are many reasons women are attracted to bellydance: the sensuous body movements, the intoxicating music, the middle-eastern environment.

I think it's a lot more basic than that. I think we just love the bellydance costume and all the accessories :)

It all starts with the hip scarf. It is the single item that separates the belly dancer from all other dancers no matter what exercise gear she wears to practice.

So when I noticed the only woman in practice class without a hip scarf, I lent her mine. And I watched with amazement how she kept looking herself in the mirror as she went through the paces, loving how the coins on the hip scarf went dingly-dangly jingly-jangly as she moved.

I don't know why she hasn't gotten herself a hip scarf by now. Maybe it's the money. Maybe she feels she's too old to be wearing something so showy. Whatever.

At the end of practice, I told her to please keep the scarf. She protested. Then she offered to buy it off me.

No, I insisted. I told her I wanted her to have it. That it would make me very happy to see her keep it and enjoy dance with it.

She finally accepted the offer. With the slightest of a shy smile, she said a soft "Thank you". Then she caressed the hip scarf one more time before carefully folding it and tucking it into her bag.

I have to admit I feel darn good seeing how much she loved the hip scarf. I hope she keeps dancing for a long, long time...

When in France...

I was in France two times - in September a year ago, and again in September that just was.

I remember the beautiful old-world architecture, the strikingly beautiful countryside, the great wining and dining experience. Most of all, I remember the wonderfully hospitable friends and friends of friends who went out of their way to show us the place they call home.

I also remember the surly and resentful treatment I got from the very people whose job it is to provide help and service.

Like the tight-lipped monsieur or madam working the information booths who would not want to give me information;

Like the airline that cancelled my flight for no known reason and their ground crew would offer no alternative transport to my next destination;

Like the VAT refund counter at CDG where there is a perpetual long queue,

and after all documentation are grudgingly vetted and stamped, the angry monsieur/madam points sharply at the mail drop across from them where I am to mail my precious documents,

and I walk up to the mail box measuring all of 30cmX20cmX15cm (12inX8inX6in) and ram my one envelope into the overfilled receptacle, daring it to burst and dump its contents unceremoniously on the floor in protest.

Francophiles try to convince me that the French are not really rude.

They tell me that the French people are reluctant to speak English because they don't think they speak it well enough.

That I must never approach a French person and ask, "Can you speak English please." Instead, I am to say with a sing-song lilt, "Bonjour, mademoiselle/monsieur", followed by "parlez-vous Anglais, s'il vous plait". Did that. Did no good.

That the French are more reserved, and do not respond to strangers with a smile, unlike, say. the gregarious Americans.

The Francophiles miss my point. I am not complaining about the private French citizen. I am griping about people whose job it is to provide information and/or service. I am saying it is almost a matter of national pride and duty for that country to be not nice to visitors.

Then other friends tell me it is all worse in England/Italy/Germany. I readily and easily take their word for it. I am just not interested to rank them ...

Biarritz and the Basque country

Biarritz on the Basque coast in South Western France was once a small whaling sea town. It became more renowned when Empress Eugenie (wife of Napoleon III) fell in love with the place and built her summer palace La Ville Eugenie (the present day Hotel Du Palais) on the beach.

Today, Biarritz is a popular tourist destination with much to offer: Basque culture and cuisine, beaches, golf, hiking trail, shopping etc.
What I remember most is how strikingly beautiful the place is - a battered coast that meets gentle hills and valleys. White buildings with timber trims painted brown, green, burgundy or navy hug the hill paths, while the majestic peaks of the Pyrenees lie beyond.

Open Road

Under a perfect autumn sky, the friends took to the open freeway and rode 55 km each way Bordeaux-Arcachon-Bordeaux. Like the heroes they still are:)

If you don't ride you don't know
Where I've been and where I'm going
It's all about the freedom of the open road

It doesn't matter if you are young or old
running with the pack or rolling on your own
It's all about the freedom of the open road

Joe Janiak

The Left Bank

The river Gironde runs through the Bordeaux wine region, dividing it into two distinct wine producing zones.

The Right Bank is hilly; the chateaux/vineyards are small (between 5 to 10 hectares), and the owner-operator lovingly tends his vineyard like his garden. The composition of the soil is clay-limestone-sand, and the grape of choice is Merlot. The wine comes across delightfully "fruity".

The Left Bank is flat, the chateaux are imposing massive architectural marvels of turrets and spires, the vineyards are 50-80 hectares or more and the owners are big, moneyed families or business. The composition of the soil is largely gravel, and the grape of choice is Cabernet-Sauvignon. The wine is distinctly berry-flavoured.
If one remembers nothing else about the Left Bank, one remembers the Big 5 of the most prestigious names in wine Chateaux: Latour, Lafite-Rothschild, Mouton-Rothschild, Margaux and Haut Brion.

And I was there. Wow...

Saint Emilion and the Right Bank

Saint-Emilion's fame is due to its wines but also to its historical and cultural inheritance. The walled hilltop village of St. Emilion itself, which has survived almost untouched from the Middle Ages was classified "World Patrimony" in 1999 by the UNESCO.
Ironically, given that St. Emilion can trace its wine-producing heritage all the way back to the Romans and the second century A.D., this village is also on the cutting edge of the push for a more modern style of Bordeaux wine, and the appellation is home to some of the most technically inspired wines in all of Bordeaux.

St. Emilion winegrowers have launched an ambitious, community-based biodiversity project to create miles of interconnected "green" corridors throughout the 20,000-acre region of Bordeaux in a bid for sustainability.

Little wonder that it is one of the most popular destinations in the wine producing regions of France.The attractive medieval village of cobblestone streets and ancient walls has it all - history, heritage and modernity.

Eating in Bordeaux and Biarritz

Eating is always a priority for any visitor to France - always an experience to re-live and re-hash long after one has left the country.
French food is diverse, and what sets French cuisine apart from other great cuisines is the culture of cooking with what is available locally.

I still remember the food experience from last year. Lyon boasts the most tantalising of sausages; the Rhone valley is famous for its fruit and young vegetables; the world's most exquisite desserts come from Provence and Cote d'Azur.

This time, in Bordeaux and the Basque country of Biarritz, I am in the land of seafood and heavy farm-based foods like pate, terrines, foie gras, confits, magrets.

I love Mephisto Shoes!

There is a lot of walking in travel. This is especially true of travel in the Old World, where one can expect to walk on miles of cobblestone pavements on hilly terrain.

I cannot bring myself to wear sports shoes for my romps in an urban setting. I would suffer aches in the heel, foot, leg, back, neck before I would commit such a fashion faux pas.

There are many shoes in the market that boast comfort wear. There must be as many varied opinions about what is considered comfortable. I have paid enough in terms of blisters, crushed toes, referred aches and pains, and money to learn which big name shoes do not live up to their advertisement.

Then, on this recent trip, I walked into Mephisto on 19 Rue Voltaire, 33000 Bordeaux.

That day, I walked into a world that knows shoes from overpriced over-rated foot wrappers. That day, my life is transformed. That day, my love for shoes was re-kindled.

That day, I stopped dreading long treks on hilly pavements of cobblestone.

September

was the month
I was in France again, exactly a full year later

- with the same traveling companions,
- but this time in Bordeaux-Biarritz
- and this time, the weather was all blue skies with brilliant sunshine and cool gentle breeze.

I could live here for a while, even if I don't speak their language and they won't speak mine.

Gypsy in my Soul

It's just the gypsy in my soul
Make me pack up my things and go
It may seem like I'm on a roll
But it's just the gypsy in my soul

Van Morrison

I am sorting out my wardrobe for two weeks in South-West France. I expect beautiful weather in the beautiful Bordeaux and Biarritz country side.

I want to wear gypsy all the way. Gypsy feels right. Certainly, gypsy looks right.

Mahjong for the weekend

I sat down to play a full game (and half) of mahjong over the weekend. It was the first time I played in about 10 years.

I love the game. But I am particular about how the game is played, and with whom I sit down with.

I do not like players who are:
- overly noisy (slam cards, yell and yelp when the winning tile shows up).
- overly whiny when experiencing a losing streak.
- not happy whether winning or losing.
- try too hard to build a strong hand.
- impatient if anybody needed to take a second to consider a move.

You get my drift.

I am very "zen" in my game style, if I am at a table with fairly good skills. I let the cards just come (or not). I particularly enjoy a good game at a table with superior game-masters.

For many years, I had the privilege to play with some of the most gracious and elegant mahjong players; they were impeccable in their game etiquette. I like to think that some of their behaviour rubbed off on me.

So, for the first time in a long time, I played the game again with new found friends and I found I liked their style.

They said they enjoyed having me, and I was happy to hear that.

When they asked if they could get me again when they needed a fourth, I said "Yes!"

When they asked if they could get me again when they needed a third, I said "No!"

Like I said, I love this game too much to have to play it in any slap-dash fashion. Heh,..

What's love got to do with it

The girlfriend mentioned the notion of open-relationships - something the guys were bantering about.

It has been a very long time since I bothered to explore concepts of alternative love-styles.

I am a product of the 70s counter-culture in fashion, thought and being. The era - for all its beauty and failings - defined the person I am today. Certainly I've lived the "free love"
lifestyle of the time. It felt good and right to toss out the hypocritical societal constraints that governed society in the 50s and early 60s, and have the freedom to love - anyone, anytime, anywhere. A lot of us crashed and burned in that experiment in sexual revolution. But with hindsight, I still defend the movement for its innocence and honesty.

I find today's notion of an "open relationship" too cold, calculated and contrived. The parties talk through and agree on clear-cut set rules of sexual conduct with other parties.

I view open relationship as granting permission to be promiscuous. No where in this arrangement does love, even at the most superficial and lusty level, come into play.

I say if you want to sleep around, just go ahead. Saying no is not going to stop anybody anyway.

My closing thoughts on open relationships? Can it, dudes. You are trying to sell a bill of goods. Cheating is a nobler option, and it certainly is a lot simpler.

Just an old fashioned char siew bao

I first made bao's when I lived in California in the 80s. At the time, there were no decent bao's to be had in the desert town I lived in. My only option was to drive 2 hours to dim sum restaurants in Los Angeles.

The industry-packed bao's available in Chinese supermarkets were, in a word, disgusting. What passed for char siew bao filling was just this bit of sweet red goo.

I have big choice of bao's here, so I don't have any real push factor to make my own.

Except that the comfort food called char siew bao which I remembered from my childhood has been through some evolutionary process. The bao's have become too "refined", if you will. I crave the more "robust" version I remembered sinking my teeth into; the bao back then had more "character" in taste and texture.

So, one day recently, when I had leftover char siew, I made my own bao's.

There is something deeply satisfying about biting into an old fashioned unpretentious char siew bao and taste every nuance of char siew wrapped in a basic steamed bun.

What girls want

It was an evening of much food, drink, and celebration; three young men in the family had birthdays within a week of each other.

Understandably, the conversation was mostly "young" - decisions about school courses, early days at work, strategy on how to get ahead in life. It was refreshing to hear them chart the course of their future with unabashed enthusiasm and confidence.

Sometime in the evening, the conversation turned to a topic that must be so much more significant and mysterious at this stage in their lives. The guys asked of each other and the girls: "What do Singapore girls want in a guy?"

The guys (typical) then went ahead to list what they knew the girls wanted:
- Someone who will be there for them.
- Money has to rank somewhere up there.
- A hunk, a brain, and something or everything in between.
- etc

I have to admit I never wasted time in my brave young days pondering what I wanted in a guy, or what a guy wanted in a girl. I was with whoever fitted my needs best at the time.

I never asked for or needed promises of forever and ever and a day. Those were just words. Relationships are a lot more straightforward than people allow them to be.

The girl wants the same things as the guy. And the relationship that works is one where those requirements are met.
I 'll drink to that gem of an insight. And you guys should too.

Why do they live here?

They did not get their way about redesigning and upgrading the lobby and grounds of the condo. So they vent their unhappiness by pelting the condo residents' committee and on-site manager with complaints and more complaints:

- How dare the drainage pipes burst after we've had heavy rain for several days.
- How dare the CCTV not be in good working order.
- How can children be allowed to play boisterously around the swimming pool.
- How can the security guards not stop their two maids from running away.
- How dare a pool side party be allowed to carry on beyond 10pm.

They point out (for the umpteenth time) that their complaints have fallen on deaf ears. They now write to the condo management that unless concrete steps are taken to remedy all the ills of this place, they will have no choice but to seek legal advice on how they may ensure they are adequately protected living here. (Ooooh...we are so scared).

There are some valid issues in their litany of complaints. And the condo manager does address problems that are brought to his attention. It is silly to threaten with legal action when there is simply no basis for it.

And I wonder, for the umpteenth time - why did they move in here? and why will they not consider moving to some place where the environment is more acceptable to them?

August

was the month
- feelings that were laid to rest, but were never abandoned, awakened. Feelings that are tied to gender studies, feminist politics and activism. Feelings and beliefs that I always hold close to my heart.

- these feelings were awakened from reading the Larsson books. I re-examine the lot of womenfolk in a world that operates by secular and religious laws made by men and despair at the hopelessness of gender inequity.

- I am further haunted by the reality of how unprotected a life partner is at the worst hour of her life.

- I am acutely aware of the change of seasons even if I live them vicariously. As summer fades into fall, I want to enjoy the little time that is left before the dread winter season takes over with its attendant garish holiday season.

I am not really sure?

Singaporeans have a real problem with giving definitive answers.

Example:
Me, asking a sales rep who has no customer to sell anything to: Would you know where the nearest mail drop is?

Sales Rep, index finger and thumb rubbing shiny chin, looking thoughtful before telling me after careful consideration: I am not really sure.

Which makes me want to push the point - go ahead, young man, make a wild stab and tell me where you think it might just be, possibly. Go left, right, cross the road in front, behind?

It's just so hard for him to say he doesn't know? I had to point out to him that he does not know rather than he's not really sure, before moving on to another shop to ask another blur Singaporean.