Pearl Of The South

We flew to Thailand’s largest island (and a province in itself) last Wednesday afternoon. Located in the south part of the Andaman Sea off Thailand’s south-west coast, Phuket has an incredibly varied terrain: rocky beaches, sandy beaches, forested hills (in fact, it is said that Phuket is a corruption of the Malay word, bukit or hill and the island is pretty hilly) and tropical vegetation. With a population made up of Southern Thais and an indigenous ocean-going people (they all look quite dark, darker than those in Bangkok), Phuket has a culture of its own. About 30-35% of the population is Muslims.

I read that the island has incredibly varied terrain with rocky beaches, sandy beaches, limestone cliffs, forested hills and tropical vegetation. As is the case with most tropical islands, great seafood is in abundance. And as Bali’s Kuta, there were gaudy billboards, travel agencies and tacky craft shop located every few hundred metres in the southern half of the island (I didn’t find Patong to be as tacky as Kuta though). Phuket is also on the world’s top ten dive destinations. I didn’t go on any of the scuba-diving or snorkelling trips though as it was perpetually cloudy and raining on and off and the sea was choppy.

We could see the many surrounding tiny islands as the plane began its descent through the mist and haze (I just love little islands like that). It was an overcast Phuket afternoon when we landed and after collecting our bags, we bought a coupon for the cab to our hotel near Patong beach, some 45 minutes away from the airport. We ventured out to Patong town for some seafood dinner that evening before checking out Bangla Road (lined with stalls selling souvenirs, shops selling gems, tailors and pubs) and Jungceylon shopping mall. We took a tuk tuk back to the hotel – and you even have to bargain for this ride. We also learnt that a Patong-Phuket City tuk tuk ride costs about 400 Baht (about RM40) a way. By the way, Phuket tuk tuk is different from those in Bangkok. It’s like an open van and you enter it from the back and sit on the seats facing each other (a bit like the angkot in Bandung except that angkot has a much narrower space and you enter it from the side).

On Thursday morning, determined to still check out Phuket City, I studied the maps and discovered there was a bus stop to town. The receptionist confirmed that we could take the bus to the city and guess what, it costs a mere 20 Baht per person for a single trip. What a bargain! The bus we took was styled after the tuk tuk, with seats facing each other and a long bench in the middle to seat more passengers. The driver picked up passengers along the way even though I couldn’t see any bus stop or bus signs anywhere.

Phuket City is located at the east of Phuket Island and is about 16 km away from Patong town. It took close to an hour to reach the city. A chap was waiting as we alighted from the bus and I asked him for some directions. He then offered to take us around for a mere 50 Baht (which we bargained to 40 Baht, though finally we paid him 60 Baht because of his good service and company). Turned out he was a Thai Muslim. He took us to some plaza selling some gems and local crafts before going to Wang Talang, another swankier plaza also selling gems and crafts. Then we went to Sri Bhurapa Orchid which sells cashew products before visiting Gems Gallery, yet another plaza selling gems and crafts. We also visited Pornthip, a one-stop Phuket gift arcade. Then it was on to some showroom selling honey from Chiang Mai before we had a late lunch at a Muslim stall.

We parted ways with Abdul Razak, our local guide for the day, and took the bus back to Patong. Dinner was had at Ali Baba’s, a halal Indian eatery in Patong. It started pouring just as we were finishing dinner so we took a tuk tuk back to the hotel (the initial idea was to walk back...).

We decided to spend Friday in Patong, well, namely Jungceylon. There is an Arsenal store there, just like the one in Central World in Bangkok, where I parted with some Baht buying some merchandise. We had lunch at the food court – there is a stall selling halal food and another selling seafood – before checking out Robinson’s. I then spent some more Baht buying some LeSportsac bags (Mummy even bought one too!). Abah and I went out in the evening to get dinner and we bought some delicious ones at an Indian stall (but not Indian food!) at the OTOP bazaar.

We checked out on Saturday morning and just like the previous days, it was cloudy and pretty soon raining cats and dogs. In fact, it rained all the way to the airport. Thankfully the rain had stopped by the time we boarded the plane and the plane ride was smooth all the way until we reached sunny KL in the evening.

So yes, I went to Phuket but I didn’t take any boat to any of the surrounding islands. The Patong beach was clean but pretty narrow; the sea was probably ten metres away from the road. And it’s amazing how good the Thai people are at making tourism work (I hate to admit it but I have seen dirty beaches in Malaysia), even the countryside is very clean and well-kept. We still have a long way to go before we can even compete with our neighbours when it comes to luring tourists. Yes, we have the facilities and they lack the English fluency but they are still far ahead.

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A rather belated review (because I couldn’t access Blogger before today): as we know, Arsenal and Liverpool drew at Anfield on Sunday evening and remain the only two unbeaten teams in the EPL. I watched a bit of the first half but missed the Liverpool goal. At half time, I decided sleep was a better option but slept poorly; I had nightmares that Liverpool led Arsenal 4-1 at one point before Arsenal finally caught up again with the game ending 4-4. Then I dreamt that Arsenal beat Liverpool (I probably should have just stayed up because all that nightmates left me feeling equally tired, just as if I’d watched the match myself). Only found out on Monday morning that it was honours even. Here are some pictures of the match.

And here are pictures of last week’s Champions League match where Arsenal was in seventh heaven in London after beating visitors Slavia Praha.

Kate Moss Clone

My brother once made this remark to me when I was small: ‘Don’t be so thin; guys don’t go for skinny girls.’ I was probably eight then. Even if he had a point, that remark was a tad close to the bone. And besides, I’m not exactly a bag of bones or all skin and bones! I do have baby fat (oh yes, I do, unfortunately) and celluloid too.

This fact about me not having enough weight has somehow always been somewhat a bone of contention for some of my friends [and some of them are not even close enough to comment!], particularly if we have not met for some time. To be honest, I don’t understand why and I don’t see why they have a bone to pick with me regarding my weight. The more vocal ones sure make no bones talking about it (like there isn’t anything more interesting to talk about).

Look, sticks and stones may break my bones but this comment or prolonged discussion about my weight will not affect me. The truth is, I have always have problems gaining weight. It’s my metabolism. I’m happy with the way I am and as long as I’m healthy, I don’t want to be worried about how much I weigh. I don’t starve myself and if you see me eat, you’ll be surprised. I can eat like a champ, I can. I’m definitely not anorexic so please don’t worry about me. ‘Cause I’m not worried.

Besides, there are other thin, waifish people out there too. And I much prefer people to think that I remind them of Kate Moss (haha). I like the caption of the milk ad she once appeared in:

‘Bones. Bones. Bones.

Maybe so, but unlike 75% of women today, there’s one way I’m taking good care of mine. By getting lots of calcium. How? From drinking lots of milk. 1% ice cold. And besides, haven’t you heard that the waif look is out?’


I don’t think I’m as thin as she is and I certainly won’t make it to the modelling world.

Even if I’m her clone. Or not.

Well, at least I’m not bone idle.

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Adek celebrates the end of her fast today after fasting six days and then some. Alhamdulillah. She is really going to gorge up on food now and hopes to regain her weight. Just out of curiosity, does any one know if Appeton Weight Gain works?

Project Runway

I stumbled onto episode 2 of Project Runway Malaysia quite by accident and had been hooked since. It is, I believe, modelled after the American reality TV show focussing on fashion designing where 15 contestants competed to the best designer with restrictions imposed such as time, materials and themes/tasks. The contestants were given some money and up to half an hour to purchase their materials; there was one episode where the contestants had to scour Giant supermarket – because fashion designers are supposed to be creative and hence should be able to construct an outfit from whatever resources they have at their disposal (the winner in that episode designed a jacket made of baby diapers and I have to admit it did look good) - and another where they had to dig through and buy used clothes from the Red Crescent shop. One contestant would be eliminated each week and sometimes the winner of any one week was granted immunity from elimination in the following week.

There is just something about the way the whole process takes place that had me looking forward to the past few Friday evenings and staying glued to the tube, from visualisation by each contestant of the end product to the purchase of materials to the sketch/design that forms the basis of the end output and eventually the transformation of the materials into outfits that fit the task/theme. Not that I aspire to be a designer myself; I did learn domestic science at boarding school - it was a compulsory exam subject for all until a couple of years after my year when the juniors were allowed to take up Commerce subject - and simply hated all the sewing and cooking classes. We were tasked to sew an apron a cap during our first year, some housecoat and other stuff later on (which I doubt I even completed). I disliked it so much that once I even fell asleep in bed with all the needles and the unfinished material on me. Oh, I can do a ‘Lie Low & Stitch’ and sew up buttons and stitch up undone shirts and trousers but I can’t design, sketch, cut and create an outfit from scratch. And while I could visualise how my outfit should turn out to be, I had problems communicating it to my late tailor (and like I said, I couldn’t sketch what I could visualise and show it to her). By the way, I somehow managed to get an A1 for that subject, much to the amazement of my parents, my sister and even myself(!). But you know what, I know quite a few mates who also got an A1 and who are now equally bad in the kitchen (I’m not sure how good they are still at sewing).

So I have to resort to buying ready-made clothes (of course it would be much better and ideal and kinder on my wallet if I can buy materials, cut and sew my own outfit). And while I do follow the latest fashion and trends, I’m not a fashion victim or a slave to fashion. Although there were a few times when my mates asked back when we were in Form 4 if I was planning to be a model; funny, I won’t ever make it to the runway, not when I lack the prerequisite height among other things!

Anyway, I’ll leave you with some model behaviour.

Ordinary Guy

There is this one chap who works around TheOrganisation. He’s employed by another company to perform services for TheOrganisation. He is a sanitary officer and his main duty is to ensure the compound is kept clean and clear of rubbish and leaves. His ‘area’ can be anywhere from the basement parking to the lobby area (there are two lobby areas here). He walks with a pronounced limp and despite this apparent disability, is a very jovial, happy, cheerful person – I’ve never seen him being grouchy or grumpy or unhappy or depressed. He’d call out or wave to people walking by or driving past – greeting and acknowledging them - and seems comfortable doing so, without feeling inferior or ashamed of his position or disability. And he does so without making anyone feeling uncomfortable or disturbed [well, at least I’m not]. Sometimes I take time to stop and chat with him, asking him how his day has been and whether he’s had his meal. Other times, say, when I’m in a hurry or distracted, I just smile and waved at him. And I don’t worry that he will take it the wrong way.

Whenever I see him, I am reminded of how blessed I am to have a good pair of legs (which I do put to good use!) and how I should be thankful to have a job. Heck, sometimes I wish I can be as happy and passionate about performing my job as he is. Maybe he doesn’t need or want much from life, is just generally happy and cheerful, satisfied and thankful with what he already has, or is simply happy and contented with his simple, uncomplicated life. He reminds me there is much I can learn from the simple, everyday life of an ordinary man. Even if he has a limp.

Look around you, there’s much that we can learn from the seemingly ordinary person next to us. They all have their stories to tell, experiences to share and lessons to teach, if only we take the time to look, listen and learn.

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And the English rugby team proved they were no ordinary guys either as they overcame the host country in the last ten minutes of the semi-final match to set a date with the Springboks. Gulp. Yes, the very same team they met earlier and got a trashing from. I sure hope the final match will not be a repeat of the earlier group match.

Eid ul-Fitr

After a month of abstinence, control, exercising patience and performing ibadah, it’s time again to celebrate and rejoice in the glory and graces of Allah. I am appalled, however, to find that some TV stations will celebrate the end of Ramadan with entertainment – concerts and what have yous. I just don’t think that’s how Eid should be celebrated.

And I don’t understand the mentality of some people (mainly the fairer sex) who think that they need/must change the curtains, carpeting, wallpaper etc, etc every year. C’mon, we can still celebrate Eid with old furniture and fittings surely. And Eid outfit too. Just the other morning, I happened to tune into a radio station and the caller sounded like her Eid was already spoilt because her Eid outfit was still unfinished [and the tailor had happily left KL].

To me, Eid is more than just new Eid outfit, furniture, fittings and money. While I am happy that Eid is here, I’m also sad that Ramadan will be over. Will I live to see the next Ramadan? (Yes, I have these deep, serious thoughts at times. But you know what, I know quite a few young people who are either dying now or died at a young age).

A few mornings ago, as I was having my pre-dawn meal, the radio station I was listening to had a discussion with a guest professor on Eid money. How most kids these days can be so choosy as to the houses they visit because some hosts give a little more than the others. How some even ‘cheat’ especially at open houses, by queuing up more than once so that they can get more than one Eid money packets. And how some waste their Eid money by spending it on useless things; granted it’s their Eid money but surely thou shalt not waste (when I was still a recipient of Eid money, I saved them all for the future, y’know for emergency and all. Mind you, back then, getting RM5 from anyone besides my parents was already good enough. And I never got any from my elder stingy scrooges of siblings!). And how some parents actually use their children’s Eid money to pay toll!

The professor opined that all these were inappropriate. She also went on to say that there are parents with many children who actually feel they should not go visiting because they don’t want the hosts to feel like they have to give out so much Eid money. She pointed out that the parents shouldn’t feel this way because the spirit of celebrating Eid is to visit one another and seek forgiveness; similarly and the hosts should also not feel obligated to give out Eid money if they can’t afford to - after all, Eid money is not even compulsory. [In fact, I think this ritual of giving Eid money is only practised here and not in other Muslim countries]. I think these are all valid points. Sadly, I think most kids these days, yes my nieces and nephews included, think that Eid is an easy ca$h-making-scheme celebration.

The professor also likened spending money on firecrackers to burning money and I couldn’t agree more. The firecrackers are sometimes so loud and sudden, I’m surprised I haven’t heard of any elderly folks suffering sudden heart attacks yet (not that I wish for it but the sudden loud noises startle even me at times).

Anyway, here’s wishing everyone all the blessings of happiness, peace and prosperity. I seek forgiveness for my wrongdoings, in my posts or comments, my speech and behaviour. May our ibadah continue to be of barakah, insyaAllah. Go easy on the rendang, ketupat and lemang and have a safe trip to/fro your destinations. Oh, and thank you all for all the Eid cards I receive every year. Glad to know that people still send and value receiving physical greeting cards like I do.

Eid Mubarak!

Handling Panhandlers

They seem to be everywhere these days. At the pedestrian walkway along Jalan TAR. At Bintang Walk (yes, there too). Sometimes they are bold enough to enter restaurants and eateries and approach diners. They can be men or women; old, middle-aged, young or too young; working alone, in pairs or a mother and child(ren) team. Most of them aren’t local i.e. are foreigners. Well, OK, they don’t look local despite donning the skullcap or scarf [you gotta give them credit for trying though].

So what do you do when you come across them? Do you:
- look the other way?
- fumble through your pocket or bag to look for loose change?
- think, ‘Oh, maybe another day’?
- look through them? Do you even see them at all?
Or do you wonder:
- why and how they got to be in that situation and how they can afford to come all the way to this country only to end up begging for money?
- how on earth did they ever manage to pass through Immigration or how they manage to overstay their visa duration?
- what are the authorities doing about them apart from rounding them up once in a while, haul them to the nearest lock-up only to have them roam the streets again days after their release?

Sometimes I wonder about all these. And sometimes I wonder too what I’d do if I suddenly find myself on the streets with only the clothes on my back. Would I seek this way out too?

Even then, I don’t make it a habit to give money to them. I don’t think it’s right or healthy to encourage them to continue being dependent on others for their subsistence. I don’t condone their approach to seek the easy way out of their predicament. Even the blind can weave baskets and walk from one house to another to sell their products. Or at least sell some tissues or dried snacks or anything. To me, even the blind have more pride to try to do something, to attempt to produce something, to walk all those distance, aided or not, and sell their wares. That speaks volume about their effort and independence.

Maybe I’m just plain ungenerous. Calculative. Scrooge. Stingy. But sometimes you have to be unkind to be kind. Like when you’re at the zoo or on safari, you shouldn’t feed the animals even though that would be a kind gesture because doing so would only mess with their diets and make them dependent on being fed to the extent they may not want or not know how to hunt for food anymore. So in the same way, I don’t believe in contributing to these panhandlers because it would only discourage them from being independent, from seeking proper employment even if it’s temporary, and from pushing themselves out of the poverty trap via other means. Besides, sometimes they are just part of a larger scheme, being recruited to beg and the proceeds will be shared between themselves and the syndicate operator based on some pre-determined ratio.

Maybe I’m just a miser after all. Maybe I’m a cynic. Maybe I tend to distrust certain people. Maybe I’m wrong about them; maybe they are genuinely poor and out of luck. But then again, there’s also the possibility that maybe I’m right about them after all. Wallahualam.

North And South

What a shocker! Defending champions and this tournament’s underdog England beat the Wallabies on Saturday in their Rugby World Cup quarter-final meet. No tries and hence no conversion for England but four penalties finely taken by Wilkinson. This is the very same team that earlier scored nil and lost badly to the Springboks. And hours later, the host country and also another underdog, Les Blues overcame their earlier (defeat) blues to stun all-time favourites All Blacks - mind you, at one point, the All Blacks were leading 13-0. I was right about the All Blacks but wrong about the Wallabies. So both the neighbouring northern hemisphere countries respectively beat the two neighbouring southern hemisphere countries to set a semi-final meet next Saturday. Hmm, sorry host country, I’ll be supporting England.

The two other quarter-final matches resulted in the Springboks setting up a semi-final meet with another southern hemisphere country, Argentina. So the final encounter will definitely be between a northern and a southern hemisphere country.

Lewis Hamilton suffered his first retirement of the season in Shanghai. So the race for the driver’s title is still on literally. Let’s see if he’ll be luckier in the southern hemisphere country Brazil which is the last Grand Prix host for this year.

Arsenal fired a few blank shots much to my frustration last night but finally sunk Sunderland. I think Sunderland played pretty well though. So the north London club is back roaring at the top of the league while the visitor from the north, Sunderland, is err... at the south of the league.

And another piece of news that I just heard this morning: my uncle who is well into his 70s will be remarrying a week after Eid, barely a year after my aunt passed away. My cousin has been taking care of them since before my aunt passed away so he’s definitely being taken care of. Anyway, I won’t be joining any group heading south for the wedding.

Heady Days

These are heady days for Arsenal. They won last night in Bucharest, thanks to the flying Robin. I hope the unbeaten streak thus far will not go to their heads and interfere with my plan/hope/wish that they knock the defending EPL champion off their pedestal.



And I’m having a headache now, no thanks to the meeting that took the whole of this morning. That’s not the end of it; I have yet another meeting before the end of the day. Yuckity yuck yuck.

Ciao peeps.

Ramadan Reminiscences

Ramadan, when I was at varsity, was observed in end-winter. Short, grey, cold days and long, dark nights. Unlike S, Lin and I never bothered to get up for pre-dawn meal (S actually got up to have a bowl of cornflakes!). To me then, my beauty sleep was more important (of course now I know that having pre-dawn meal is strongly encouraged) and the short, cold fasting days made getting through Ramadan a lot easier. Besides, all my alarm clocks I ever had at uni gave up on me. I could somehow sleep blissfully through the ringing; in fact once an annoyed flatmate woke me up [not during Ramadan]; she could hear my alarm from her room across the corridor and I couldn’t, despite the clock being inches away from me. After that, I observed that the clock [and its subsequent replacements] all refused to ring. Maybe after a while, they ran out of their ringing ability. (By the way, I somehow managed to sleep through the deafening fire alarms at least twice while at graduate school.)

Anyway, one evening during our first year, as Lin and I were mulling over what to prepare for our ‘break fast’, our guy friends came over excitedly to deliver a bowl of chicken tom yam soup. They told us to sample it and give feedback on its taste. Like hello, even if we weren’t able to fast then, we wouldn’t admit it of course! Come break fast time, we attacked the tom yam with great anticipation. One minute we were excited and the next minute I had tears running down my cheeks. For the tom yam was oh so very hot and spicy that our English flatmates looked at us in concern and worry.

Two of our girl friends were especially known for their culinary skills. One preferred to make Eid cookies and stayed up all night too on the eve of Eid to prepare rendang. Another preferred to make Malay desserts (kuih) for break fast. Heck, another senior (a guy) told me he preferred baking cakes to cookies as he argued that it was simpler making cakes – just mix everything and put the mixture into the oven. It was all I could do to keep my jaw from dropping. Oh, and another male classmate attempted to make lemang, using kitchen foil and I don’t know what else. I heard he succeeded although I didn’t get to sample it.

As for Lin and me? To be perfectly honest, I can’t for the life of me recall now what we had for break fast. But I remember boiling instant ketupat on the eve of Eid and heating up the frozen rendang or flossed meat that Lin’s mother sent over. Err, and I think Mr. Brahim came to the rescue too. Oh and in order to recreate Eid as she celebrated it at home, I helped Lin to make some chocolate cake – there I’d be sitting on the kitchen counter, beating the darned eggs and flour mixture by hand mind you - and somehow the cake turned out alright every Ramadan that we baked it. I also tried – and failed miserably – to make cheese cakes and the last time I tried, I vowed I would never again make cheese cakes. Hmmph! You can’t blame me for trying.

Our (that’s Lin and I, the partners in crime) ahem, lack of culinary skills had always been a matter of amusement to the others and despite this, for reasons I can’t explain, never deterred them from asking us to host ‘open house’ every year. Such big bullies they were. We teamed up with the guys, smart girls that we were, and everything always turned out fine and dandy, you’ll be glad to know. No burnt or over-fried chicken or anything of that sort. The guys came to our rescue [c’mon the best chefs in the world are men anyway!].

During my first Ramadan, I had to scour the compact city to hunt for an underskirt: see, I remembered to pack a couple of kurung but forgot to pack my petticoat (duh!). Of course, this was a shopping challenge for English ladies don’t seem to have the need for long underskirts. After hunting high and low, going in and out of shops – there weren’t many in that God-forsaken city and this in itself made it even more difficult for me to achieve my mission – I finally managed to find one. Otherwise, it’d be a freezing Eid for me waist down.

The first year I celebrated Eid abroad, I celebrated the first day of Eid twice: first in England before hopping on the train and then ferry to Dublin [all by myself] because that year, the Republic of Ireland celebrated Eid a day later. No, I didn’t skip any lectures as it was spring break then.

Our second and third Eid fell during term time and we showed up for lectures in our colourful kurung and baju Melayu. It was an eye-catching sight for our classmates as normally we’d be clad in our t-shirts/shirts/sweaters and jeans. I remember making visits in the evenings and playing in the snow in between, yes, in our Eid outfit!

When I did MBA, Ramadan was in early winter. And because I didn’t really mix with Malaysians then, I celebrated Eid by visiting but was spared the request of having to host any open house. Phew! Not that I was mentally prepared to do that, not even now!

And now, back to reality. It’s just so hot, hot, hot here (OK, it’s pouring now but the weekend was simply scorching. But apparently not hot enough to deter shoppers from thronging downtown KL in search of their Eid preparations. It was bumper-to-bumper traffic in downtown KL on Saturday afternoon it seemed). Global warming has set in, y’know. And now, I simply must get up for pre-dawn meal (my beauty sleep is still important but I’d risk fainting if I don’t have pre-dawn meal). Even with pre-dawn meal, I sometimes still feel weak and tired. Thankfully, I don’t sleep through alarm clocks anymore.

And at the weekend, Arsenal shot one goal, enough to hammer West Ham.

Hamilton was the fastest in the wet, wet, wet Japanese circuits.

Irish eyes were not smiling as they got knocked out of the Rugby World Cup.

Cor, lunchtime is going to end soon. Ta, y’all.