October Road

Wow, what a month this has been so far. The major material loss suffered, the Myanmar trip, the long hours spent at the office, the free-scoring Arsenal matches before the two recent draws (and missed opportunities, letting the manager and fans down) which ended in last night’s Carling Cup match, the return of the swine flu (at least Paris St Germain and Blackburn had been affected... just today and tomorrow and we can welcome the weekend (and Halloween) and say goodbye to October Road.




Woke up at close to 3 am this morning after fighting a losing battle against the attacking mosquitoes and watched the match (I did plan to watch it anyway but it would have been nice to have got that extra hour of sleep until the kick-off). The Arsenal kids (and men) were good and they could have scored more if not for some poor finishing. But they did enough to ensure our spot in the quarterfinal and give Wenger a win in his 750th game in charge of the club. Captain Cesc and Shava were at the Emirates too (cor! He looked so good in that cap). Speaking of Cesc, check out his interview with the Arsenal FC blog.

Oh, and Happy Halloween. We face the scum Spuds this Saturday.

Monday Meow

*Today’s entry’s illustrations are courtesy of LOL Cats.

I feel like a zombie today.
And all because I did something last night.

I watched the London derby ($#*~_^&*). We scored two early goals only to switch our gears and allow the host to equalise.

I was very mad at this, hey, I still am.

And it didn’t help that today is Monday. How I wish I can cancel the day.

Sometimes I hate Mondays.

You know how it’s like: Mondays at the office are usually not productive.

But like it or not, I had to drag myself to work (if only I had the motivation, like an Arsenal win last night, grrrr...) even if I don’t want to acknowledge Monday.

So I dressed up ...

... and took the public transportation to work.

Tackled some paperwork before lunch...

... and after lunch, we had a meeting. And as you know, meetings are dangerous because they can kill.

*Sigh* If only I don’t have to work hard for the money.

But, this is my job.

And there are days when I have to work overtime - even if I don’t get paid for it.

Joyeux Anniversaire

The Professor celebrated his 60th birthday yesterday. There’s a brilliant video by Arsenal official website on the manager and club. Also Football 365 compiled 60 favourite AW quotes too (similarly brilliant!).




Meanwhile, Captain Marvel aka Captain Fantastic had a live chat via Facebook (Nike Football) yesterday - at 1830 GMT, so of course I missed it ;(. He also did a Nike video earlier where he looked all macho like James Bond with a cat on his lap (meow!). This is what he said of the filming: ‘Remember the recent Nike Total Control film? The one with the cat? Filming was fun. The cat was really restless, I tried to get it to calm down but I couldn’t do anything. The handler had to come in and get it to sit still! I like cats, but that one was hard work!’

Purr, purr, I so, so, so love this bloke. I love cats too, Cesc, but I love you more. Lucky cat!

Arsenal Holdings’ eighth AGM was also held yesterday at the Emirates Stadium. For pictures, go here.

In other news, RvP is talking title, Clichy praises the captain for continuing his influential form for Arsenal after missing Spain’s international against Bosnia to visit his ill grandfather in hospital (‘We’re all here for Fàbregas if he needs it,’ says Clichy. Yeah, I’m here too, Cesc) and Nasri and Fabianski made their comeback against the Wolves reserves. Dudú may be back for the London derby too. Don’t forget, British Summer Time ends tomorrow so the derby will start after midnight here or effectively Monday morning.

The fans showing their support to Cesc as acknowledgement to his family problems at the Birmingham match. Granddad Fàbregas is fine now

On the work front, I wish I can clone myself at times (yes, I know it’s religiously wrong). But then again, it may backfire.

Cesc clones may not be a bad idea though.

Dutch Courage

Busy, busy, busy, with meetings every day this week. Spending long and longer days at work. Joy... NOT.

No live match and yet I still woke up unaided at kick-off time this morning. Finally dragged myself down at 5 am and waited patiently for the results to be shown and finally it was BBC that informed me of the last-minute draw by AZ Alkmaar, denying us of an eighth straight win and three points. All together now: arghhhhh!!!

My Captain Marvel scored his fifth goal of the season (he’s now scored as many as Vermaelen and both are currently top scorers for the Gunners) in the 36th minute. His goal was also the 40th Arsenal goal in 14 matches this season, the largest haul of all the Premier League clubs.

And yet, we conceded a goal deep in stoppage time.

Moral of the story: never be complacent, play the game as if you’re playing for 120 minutes (in case of extra time) instead of only 90 (because the host scored in the 92nd minute), assess where it all went wrong and improve.

I know Liverpool and Barça lost at home (fourth defeat for the former in all competitions this season) and it’s not that I don’t care about their results (for in the long run, these may affect us) but I hope we will concentrate on ourselves instead of consoling ourselves with the results of these two clubs.

Come on you Gunners!

Busy Bee

I will be busy for the next five weeks but will still continue to blog as and when – for this is my outlet to express myself.

Arsenal are also busy – and they just completed the first of five matches in only two weeks on Saturday. Unfortunately, the match against the classless Birm was not shown live; the ManUre-Bolton and Sunderland-Liverpool matches were shown instead and I had to content myself with reading with one eye and watching the TV screen with another to keep tabs on the score-line. Speaking of the match at the Stadium of Light, who let the red balloon out? Why, it was a Kop fan after all, a boy of about ten years old. He may very well cost his club the season, silly boy! Hugs to my Liverpool friends – you are always welcome to cross over and support the team in Red and White.

I actually set the alarm for 2.30 am to watch the delayed match as scheduled by Star Sports but when I turned on the TV in my semi-comatose state, found they were showing the Brazilian GP qualifying session instead, or rather they were waiting to re-commence the session as it was pouring. Trudged back to bed at 3 am when there was no sign that the promised delayed match would be shown ever.

Sunday programmes were disrupted and all because of baseball. I normally don’t mind watching baseball (and the New York Yankees were playing too) but I was still sore at having been deprived of my 90 minutes of Arsenal viewing that I got increasingly irritated as the match went on and on and on.

Anyway, as we all know, van Persie, Diaby and Shava all scored to give Wenger an early birthday present (let’s hope the Gunners will give more presents to their fans in the upcoming matches). We let in a goal though *expletive*.

In other Arsenal-related news, Clichy talks to the Times and Shava to Henry Winters. In other news, go here for the list of nominees for the 2009 Ballon d’Or.

Before I forget, I’d like to express my gratitude and appreciation to everyone who met me in person to convey their sympathy, who contacted me via phone calls, text messages and emails, and who treated (and promised to treat) me to meals in an effort to cheer me up over my recent misfortune. Thanks peeps. I really, really appreciate it ;’)

Girl With A Pearl Earring

It was customary for her to wear her strands of pearl necklaces and pearl bracelet to work on Fridays regardless of what she wore – baju kurung or kebaya (traditional attire worn here) or the usual office-wear. She does wear accessories on other days but pearls, just like Fridays, are special and hence she always wore them on Fridays.

That was until two Fridays ago.

This morning, as she dressed for work, she pondered on what little accessories she has left that she could wear to work. And she couldn’t help remembering her loss and she started feeling sad all over again.

The pain and the ache in the heart were still there apparently and she wondered how long they would stay and how many Fridays she would have to go through before she comes to terms with the loss.

When she was pick-pocketed and had her handbag snatched (leaving her with lifelong physical and emotional scars), she consoled herself into thinking that maybe she didn’t pay enough tithe. Now her weak attempt at a joke is she doesn’t have to pay tithe on her jewellery because there’s nothing left to pay tithe for.

For all she has left are some rings, what she wore and still wears on herself, and strangely enough, one half of a pair of pearl earrings (that must have been dropped in the thieves’ haste). So, like that painting by Johannes Vermeer (or the novel and the subsequent movie), she is now a Girl With A Pearl Earring.

What the f*cking heck is she going to do anyway with one half of an earring, pearl or otherwise?

Pretty In Pink

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month and the pink ribbon is an international symbol of breast cancer awareness. Everyone can wear it to show support for those whose lives have been touched by this disease. Let’s do our little bit, shall we. Darn, that reminds me, I used to have an AVON brooch shaped just like the pink ribbon but even that was stolen. WTF* indeed.

* What’s The Frequency, Kenneth?

Burma Road

I remember being shown the countries of Myanmar and Laos in the distance while riding the boat on the Mekong River when I visited Chiang Rai in January 2008. I remember thinking, ‘OK, I’m so going to visit those countries one day.’ In fact, I did step onto Laotian soil when we docked at the small village by the river for a short while. I had since managed to visit Laos at the end of last year, alhamdulillah.

Now flights to Yangon from KL on the national carrier don’t come cheap. They average more than RM1500 for a return trip so when I managed to get a return flight for RM507, I was chuffed (only to find the fare went down to RM3xx a few weeks later $%#!&_%&^*). And so this is my account of my trip to The Golden Land. (Before I forget, thank you, Rosman, for lending me your camera).

Friday, 9 October 2009. KUL-RGN

Mingalabar, The Golden Land!

Left home early on Friday morning for my flight to Yangon. Checked in my bag at KL Sentral and then hopped onto the ERL Transit to KLIA. Here’s a confession: I always fantasise on sitting next to a single, handsome, eligible, witty chap and we’d chat for hours on the flight. But just my luck, my fellow passengers were not ‘appetising’. We landed at Yangon International Airport at 1115 in the morning local time (Myanmar is 1.5 hours behind). The arrival process was pretty quick: thanks to the small terminal, the immigration area was only a short distance from the arrival hall. As is normal in other countries, there were separate counters for foreigners and locals. Two officers sat at each counter (and it took both of them to process each passport). My bag took a short while to appear (I read that every piece of luggage would be x-rayed before being put on the conveyer belt) and when I walked out, the bloke from the hotel was already waiting. I’ve already alerted the hotel that I needed to pick up some tickets at the domestic terminal (next building, separate entrance) so he drove me there and waited while I went in.

The Yangon Airways office, just like the rest of the domestic airline terminal, looked like a setting straight from the 1970s in ambience and character (I’d be depressed if I worked there for sure). One girl wrote out my tickets (yes, manually) – you’d think this had already been done as they knew I was coming to collect the tickets but no, the tickets were only written out there and then. I paid the rest of my fare amount in USD (half had already been charged against my credit card at the time of booking – this is standard procedure for the airline).

I met the guy who showed me the way to the airline office and he asked me for a tip. I apologised and said I didn’t have any small change, which was the truth anyway. And whatever happened to good old-fashioned doing something without expecting to be rewarded, I felt like asking. He repeated his request, I repeated my apology and walked off to find the car, muttering an expletive along the way. Turned out he followed me to the car and again I apologised and then pointedly ignored him. Even Indonesians don’t ask for tips when I asked for directions. And whoever heard of tipping for getting some direction?!

We drove to the city in the dilapidated vehicle. Free pick-up so no complaints (and no AC either. You’d have thought in a country as hot as Myanmar, they’d have air-conditioned vehicles). We passed by Inya Lake (the largest lake in Yangon) and the beautiful villas along the lake (I read they belong to the military leaders), Yangon University, the huge and imposing Shwedagon Phaya (Shwedagon Pagoda), Kandawgyi Lake with the floating restaurant Karaweik, some roundabouts, numerous junctions and sad-looking buildings. It’s a huge city, I can tell you that much.

We reached Ocean Pearl Inn at about 1220. I checked in and performed prayers before venturing out and made my way to Botataung Pagoda near the Yangon River (didn’t go in). Then I turned back and asked for directions for Bogyoke Aung San Market and was told it was very far away (one person said it was 15 km away. Another told me it was 3 km away). Best to take a taxi, I was told. I decided to just walk and explore the neighbourhood and before long, found myself passing landmarks on the little map provided by my hostel and 20 minutes later, found the market. Hah! This was when I got my first taster of Burmese roads and sidewalks. They were terrible! The city, the heat, the dust, the bad sidewalks, even the people all reminded me of India; I was only surprised that I didn’t see any homeless people living on the streets. You will also see men walking in their longyi, women smothered in thanaka (traditional make-up) and betel-chewing enthusiasts chewing and spitting blood-red juice almost everywhere (the roads and sidewalks are all stained because of this). Still, it’s authentic Asia with overflowing buses and pick-ups, potholed roads, and no 7-11 or McDonald’s in sight. Anyway, back to Bogyoke Market: it is renowned for its gem, handicrafts and fabric shops. You can also find musical instruments, ethnic goods, lacquerware and longyis (long sarong favoured by the men for everywhere everyday wear).

The market is the best place to go change your USD into Kyat (black market) and before long, I was approached by some Indian guys. Oh yes, there are a lot of Indians (as I discovered in the plane this morning) in Yangon. I wanted to buy some pictures made from pieces of gemstones carefully and beautifully arranged to depict sceneries, Makkah and Haram, Madinah, Quranic words, etc and had already selected a few. But I needed Kyat (pronounce as chart) to pay for them and followed a guy to change money. ‘Are you Turkish?’ I was asked (ha! Me, a Turk! That was the first time). They quoted me some rate (larger denominations of the greenback are quoted differently than smaller denominations) but when they saw my USD20 notes, they quoted me another (lower) rate. I was not happy with this as I had only changed my MYR into USD the day before and besides, those notes are legal for tender anyway. They explained that banks in Myanmar would not accept those bills. I couldn’t help it, I lost my temper and said, fine, I wouldn’t change my money after all. I took back my bills and stalked off. As if it was my fault that I got old USD notes!

I left the market empty-handed (after two more encounters with picky moneychangers) and walked back to the hostel. I changed money there instead – the hostel manager just took my bills without commenting. Ha!

An early night tonight as I was already sleepy by 8.30 pm local time (hey, that’s 10 pm in KL!). Oh, and another thing: there’s no network coverage in Myanmar for my mobile number.

Saturday, 10 October 2009. RGN-NYU

The Amazing Race

Another early morning start for me. Woke at 4 am local time and left at 5. Taxi was already waiting since 4.40 am but I told him to wait as I wanted to perform prayers first. We drove out into the dawn and yet there were already people in the street: women balancing pots on their heads, workers sweeping the streets and buses already full with passengers. There were no street lights in some parts/areas of Yangon and I was glad I didn’t venture out for dinner the night before. The roads and sidewalks were bad enough during the day, how does one avoid the potholes in the dark? As poor as most of them are, I didn’t see any homeless people sleeping on pavements and whatnot. During the walk yesterday, I was thinking if the Myanmar people have any idea of the oppression and suppression they are under and if they do, whether they plan to do something about it or not. It’s such a shame to see a big country rich in natural resources and gems fall into such a state.

I do not in any way condone the oppression of the military junta in Myanmar and I hope my visit will not indirectly contribute to the funding of the military junta activity. My trip was solely to experience a new country, a new culture, a new adventure and meet new people and get a taste of the local life.

Anyway, back to my story. It was a silent ride to the domestic airport. We reached the airport at 5.30 am and I quickly checked in. Nothing to browse so I went in to the boarding area immediately. There was a shop selling titbits and some postcards, a lady manning a newspapers stall, an airport restaurant on the first floor (which seemed empty), seats for passengers, restrooms and that was it. Oh and by the way, announcements were made by some guys walking around with placards announcing the destination and airline and calling out to passengers. Primitive, eh.

We boarded a shuttle the short distance to the plane. It was a small aircraft and before long, we were strapped in our seats and the plane began to taxi down the runway. It took only an hour plus to fly to Bagan/Nyaung Oo as opposed to hours on the old trains (more than 15 hours from Yangon to Mandalay and from Mandalay, you need to take another train or boat to Bagan. Too long and I didn’t have the luxury of time). And no, I didn’t plan to stay the whole duration in Yangon; if I do that, I’d be bored out of my skull.

Landed at Bagan Nyang Oo Airport at 0750. All foreign passengers have to pay USD10 Bagan Archaeological Zone Admission Fee (and your lodging would also want to look at this when you check in). Took a taxi (Kyat5000) to Golden Village Hotel whose manager showed me two single rooms (the one with TV cost USD10, the one without cost USD6), I doubted I’d watch much TV anyway so took the room without the TV. He also offered a taxi-cum-guide service for USD27 (the cabbie and guide from the airport quoted me USD35) so I agreed on the fee. Now, there are more than 2,000 pagodas and stupas around Bagan (previously, there were more than 4,000 but about half was destroyed in the earthquake in 1975).

We left for our Amazing Race around Bagan Archaeological Park and visited the following: Shwezigon Phaya, Kyan Zit Thar Cave (with cave paintings), Gi Byauk Kyi, Htilominlo Gupha-gyi, Upalithein, Khay Min Gha Phaya (which I climbed up for a view over the plains), Anadha Phaya, Shwe gu-Gyi, Thatbyinnyu Phaya (tallest structure), Dhammayangyi Pahto, Sulamani Pahto, Gaw Daw Palin Phaya and Mahabodhi Temple (where a lady applied some thanaka on my face) before stopping for lunch at The Moon Vegetarian Restaurant for lunch. It was a good thing I finally decided to wear my Crocs over my Converse shoes as you need to open your shoes and socks and walk barefooted into all the pagodas; in fact you need to walk barefoot from the entrance all the way leading into the pagoda! It’d be troublesome to slip in and out of my socks and Converse (plus I could always wash the dust and dirt off my Crocs). So if you’re going to Bagan, bear this in mind. It’s essential to pack the right footwear and apparel.

The driver sent me back to the hotel as it was too hot to go around in the afternoon. And it sure was blinking hot. At my last pagoda, the pavement was already too hot to walk on that I felt like I was walking on fire in some Thaipusam ritual.

We continued our Amazing Race at 3.30 pm. It was still hot but at least the sun had gone down a bit. We went to Iza Guwina Pagoda, Phaya Thonzu Phaya, Tayako Phay Temple (for a view of Bagan), Dhamma Yi Zi Ka Pagoda, Lawkananda Pagoda (in New Bagan, by the mighty Ayeryawaddy River), Marudha Phaya (where there was a gigantic Buddha) and a last temple (which name I didn’t catch) to catch the sunset.

Then it was back to the hotel. I ventured out for dinner and had dinner at a restaurant called Wonderful Tasty. A set meal cost me only about USD2.5 or Kyat2500. The service was painfully slow (I waited about 30 minutes) but the food was quite good.

I was repeatedly told that my one-night stay in Nyaung Oo/Bagan was too short and that I should ideally stay for 2-3 days but really, when I reflected on it, there are only so many temples I can see before they all start to look the same. And I wasn’t too pleased to take off my footwear before entering the temples but after a while, I got used to it. But doing that for two/three days, hmmm... The best time to go to Nyaung Oo/Bagan (and the country as a whole) is November-January as it’s just too hot in other months. The upside is though there are less tourists outside these months and the locals have more time to chat with the tourists. The downside is it’s just too blinking and blinding HOT.

Sunday, 11 October 2009. NYU-MDY

The Road To Mandalay

Set the alarm for 0530 local time for prayers. I’d earlier requested for an early breakfast at 0630 as my pre-arranged cab would come at 7 to take me to the airport. At about 0615, there was a blackout (this is normal throughout the country)... just like in Hanoi. Good thing I’d already dressed and packed and ready to go; besides it was already bright outside. Left after breakfast and reached the airport at 7.10 am. Thankfully, there were other passengers who checked in after me. Somehow there were a lot more foreigners at Nyaung Oo Airport than at Yangon domestic airport (not to mention, the former was so much more modern too).

It was a 25-minute flight to Mandalay Airport from Bagan (as opposed to eight hours by road) but the Mandalay Airport was about an hour from the city. Thankfully there’s a shared taxi (van, more like) service for Kyat4000 pax. I joined a couple from New York with their little son, a Chinese guy and a Chinese-looking couple (from Thailand I think).

I asked the driver to drop me at the Royal Guesthouse which I earmarked from various other lodgings in this list. They have two types of rooms: one with fan and shared bathroom at USD5, the other with fan and air-conditioning and own bathroom at USD8. After looking at both, I decided to take the USD8 room. Another upside to visiting Myanmar during off-peak season: you’ll always get a room!

I rode a pick-up to-and-fro Kuthodaw Phaya, the site of the world’s largest book, at the foot of the Mandalay Hill. 729 white stupas within the complex contain the complete text of Tripitaka, Theravada Buddhism’s most sacred text. Then I went to Zegyo Market and after confirming that it was indeed closed on Sundays, walked to another market instead at 77th street between 26th and 27th streets (this is how addresses in Mandalay are like). A late lunch was had at a small restaurant and I had Panthei Kausweh (Muslim Chinese noodles). The restaurant hygiene looked suspect but the noodles tasted very, very good. Cheap (at Kyat700 only!) and very tasty.

Summary: Mandalay is the second largest city in Myanmar. I found it like a big cowboy town. Dusty and dirty in some places with really horrible roads. Again, I was so happy I decided to wear Crocs as I could wash them every time I returned to my room. And the dust! It’s like there’s a desert nearby with all the sand and dust blowing into the city. I suppose the city inhabitants just accept the dust and sand as part of everyday life and live with it. Just like Yangon, walking in the city especially after mid-morning is a challenge and you feel like you’re walking in a sauna and at the end of the day, you feel like you’ve lost so much weight from all that sweating. Not exactly a work-out I was looking forward to. I don’t mind walking and have done a fair share of it if I may say so myself but really, walking in Asia is so much more challenging than in dry Europe. And had Kipling actually been to the city, I doubt he’d be impressed either.

I returned back to the guesthouse after my late lunch and showered the dust and dirt off. Stayed in for the rest of the day as was not keen to collect more dust and sand on myself and clothes.

Monday, 12 October 2009. MDY-HEH-RGN/RGN-KUL

Going Gaga Over Gems

Another early start as airport ‘taxi’ pick-up was at 0630. Another bumpy hour-long ride to the airport was endured.

The flight was scheduled to depart at 0850 but it departed at 0835 and stopped at Heho en route to Yangon. On hindsight, maybe I should’ve just flown to Heho from Bagan and on to Inle Lake near the town of Nyaungshwe. Oh well, maybe next time, if there’s a next time. All this domestic flying is not cheap (they all totalled to more what I paid for my return flight to Yangon).

But really, flying is so much easier to bear than say, a gruelling 8-hour bus ride from Mandalay to Bagan. And it’s such a vast country, Myanmar is, and the ground transportation either not reliable or slow. What also depressed me is the level of poverty evident everywhere. I reckon it’ll take decades just to eradicate or overcome if at all.

Anyway, we landed at Yangon International Airport (this was what was announced and what was stated on the building but in reality, it was the sad old domestic terminal) at 1015, some 35 minutes ahead of scheduled time. I was very impressed with the service of Yangon Airways and would recommend it. I was initially worried about getting back to Yangon in time for my 1250 flight (what if there was a delay?) but I needn’t have worried after all. Throughout my stay and time at the airports, I only saw one domestic flight being delayed (can’t remember what airline); the others all took off on time or way before scheduled time. Impressive!

There were already dozens of porters standing by ready to grab our bags. I hate this. I hate having someone assuming the liberty of carrying my bag and then expecting to be paid for it. In KL, this service is free (free porter service at ERL Transit and Express stations) but in Myanmar, just like Indonesia, you have to be wary of all these people profiting from unsuspecting tourists.

I quickly got hold of my bag and walked out of the building into the sun and walked the short distance to the international airport. There were a lot of people outside the airport (equally many to send those flying off) and I checked in immediately. Went to the immigration where again there were two officers at every counter. The duty-free area was dominated by gem kiosks and I spent considerable time going from one kiosk to another (I was reminded of my stolen jewelleries and felt a bit sad looking at them). I stopped browsing for a while and went to perform prayers and resumed browsing after that. So much so when I looked up, I saw ‘Gate Closed’ on the screen and all but ran to my gate. So many gemstones to see, so little time and USD left (and credit card not accepted, which was probably a blessing).

Reached KL at 4.55 pm and ran to get the 1722 train (good thing my bag came out early). So that was my trip to Myanmar. Will I be back? If yes, not outside the months of November-January, I should think. Anyway, I think it was a good trip. Sometimes we need a trip like this to remind ourselves of what we have, instead of just focussing on what we don’t already have.

Note: Malaysia Airlines flies to Yangon (not daily) and so does Myanmar Airways International. Everyone needs visa to enter the country (you need three passport-sized photos and pay some amount to get the visa processed). I’d recommend flying within the country especially if your stay is as short as mine. You get anything from Kyat1020 to Kyat1070 for every USD1, depending on the greenback bill denomination.

Dilemma

Abah called me last night while I was watching the season finale of CSI: New York (he had, during the day, overseen the contractors re-fixing the window grilles) and asked if I was still going for my next trip. I asked why and he launched into his tirade of long advice that maybe I should just stay put at home, that I should recite a verse in the Quran repeatedly, that I should perform special prayers and that I should cut down on watching footie and instead concentrate on reciting the Quran and prayers.

I listened to him without saying a word while a dozen thoughts raced through my mind.

As I told Delia and Akak this morning, I have every intention of going on the trip – and not just because I have paid a substantial amount for it (the flight ticket, the visa application, the various domestic flights and even the deposit on the hostel) but because of other reasons as well. Yes, I have only recently suffered a major loss but hey, life goes on and no matter how much I grieve for the material loss, it is gone now. Life goes on, like it or not, happy with it or not, and it’s business as usual. The thieves have robbed so much from me and I have no intention of letting them rob me of my life as well. And having lost so much, I’d only stand to lose more if I cancel this trip. Yes, it’s unfortunate that the break-in happened too near to the trip but it’s one of those things you don’t plan for of course.

So should I stop living and start barricading myself in my own house, keeping vigil and watching out against other intruders out there? With more repair work that we’re going to embark on, barricading myself indoors is not what I have in mind, what with all the dust and noise. And wouldn’t it be better, as I pointed out to Akak, that I be away than be in when an intruder comes? (Maybe I’m still too pissed, livid and seething with anger and fear, or traumatised over the loss that’s why I’m not yet scared. No, I’m fully aware that this is the price I have to pay for staying alone and I chose to do it anyway knowing full well of the risk. In any case, if I’m too chicken-shit to continue staying there alone, I know I can always pack my bags and go back to live with my parents). But I will not stop living my life and I sure am not going to let them from living my life. I won’t give them the satisfaction of robbing my life, of ruining my life, of terrifying me into a state of fear.

I also pointed out to Delia and Akak that I can always recite the Quran and verse and perform special prayers wherever I am; I don’t have to only do it in the comfort of my room. Besides, I already do read the Quran on a regular basis and perform special prayers regularly too. As for football, well, I view it as a form of therapy from my everyday angst and problems, and believe me, it really, really helps. Sure, you can view it as escapism on my part but it works for me, it gives me relief (providing Arsenal win of course) and is therapeutic. So please don’t use it against me and tell me I should stop.

I for one believe that if things are meant to happen, they will happen, no matter where you are and when, what you’re doing and what stage you are in your life. Take the H1N1 for example. The outbreak happened just days before my Europe trip in May and Abah called me to advise me to cancel the trip. I had by then, paid a substantial amount for the trip (the return flight, the intra-Europe flights, the hostel deposits, the ticket to Alhambra, the train ticket from Bonn to Frankfurt Airport, etc), spent a considerable time planning for my trip, applied for leave, made trips to the money-changer... and I said no, I’d still go. He tried to reason and I said something like if you’re fated to contract the disease, then it doesn’t matter if you stay put or continue with the trip (and what do you know, the only people I saw wearing masks were at KLIA when I left and came back! No one in Europe was donning it at all. And what about those local people who contracted the disease because some visitors from abroad came to visit and brought along the virus with them? They stayed put and still were unfortunate to contract it). He wasn’t happy with my reply and said I shouldn’t be arrogant and I said no, that wasn’t my intention but rather I was just making my point of view forward. My views may be flawed but surely they don’t smack of arrogance.

What do you think? Am I wrong in my views? Am I, God forbid, being arrogant about all this? Should I stay put and kick myself later for not going on the trip (or worse still have life-long regrets) or should I just go? I know what I want to do, I just wish my dad can see it the way I do. Yes, I understand and respect his views, but I hope he can see and respect my view too. If there’s something my parents know about me, it’s that I’m terribly stubborn and once I’ve set my mind to do something, I would do it no matter what people say. Of course, I do not dismiss people’s views, I will take them into consideration, weigh the merits of their views before making my own decisions. Am I being stubborn and obstinate this way? Perhaps. Am I being selfish for putting my consideration ahead of other people’s expectation? I hope not.

I sometimes wonder if I disappoint my parents with my stubbornness and hard-headedness. But this is my life. I can’t let a setback like this affect my life, nor do I want to. I will fight back, guns blazing and all (figure of speech, y’all. But of course if I can buy a weapon for self-protection, maybe I might just do it). I will not sit back and wait for things to happen. That’s not my style. I will continue to make special prayers and read the Quran but I’m already doing that anyway. Do I stop living my life and cut down on watching footie/TV just to make my parents feel better that I’ve done something (at the very least, for having listened to their advice) and make myself feel a bit better (for having followed their advice), or do I just go on as before, yes, with extra prayers and extra Quranic reciting but other aspects of life remaining as they were and be practical about it?

Misfortune

I was at work yesterday afternoon when Abah called (he was over at my pad to oversee some chap mow the lawn) to inform that my house had been broken into over the weekend. He advised me to return home early and my colleagues who heard of it told me to go home immediately. Mas was kind enough to offer me a lift home and when we got there, I asked that she accompanied me into the house.

The hall, the kitchen and two bedrooms upstairs were in disarray. I saw bottles of Vitagen and Ferrero Rocher wrappers – yes, even the fridge was raided. The f*cking bastards (excuse me but I’m going to use strong language in this entry) drank all ten bottles of Vitagen, ate all the Ferrero Rochers there were in the fridge, some Loacker biscuits and even chewing gum. WTF.

I don’t know why I felt like checking out the bathroom near the kitchen and guess what, they even sh*tted in there – without flushing but of course – and peed on the floor. And I’ve only just cleaned and mopped the house and washed the bathrooms on Saturday. Damn you to hell. (When I told a mate, he said the bathroom activities sound like they employ some black magic hogwash to put intended victims into a trance).

We went up and while they explored my bedroom, it was nowhere as bad as the other room where all the contents of my wardrobe were on the floor. I spent the next few hours cleaning up: I allocated a half-hour in the hall and another half-hour in my bedroom. But I spent close to two back-breaking hours putting my wardrobe back to order. Damnation. I blocked everything out of my mind but as I was waiting to perform Asar prayers, I couldn’t help thinking of my loss and cried. And for a while, I thought I’d never stopped crying.

I know it’s not going to do me any good to ponder on what I have lost but I’m going to list them anyway, for the memories I had with them. It’s so f*cking bloody annoying that everything I bought with my hard-earned money from all my toil at work to reward myself had been snatched away just like that. And I did work hard for them; it’s not as if I have some rich sugar daddy who buys me fancy things, it’s not as if I do money-laundering job on the side to earn extra cash, it’s not as if I buy and win lotteries that enable me to spend lavishly, and it’s not as if I have a rich husband who gives me regular presents.

I lost all these:
- Jewelleries: all of them - anklet, ruby rings, earrings and pendants, white gold necklaces, earrings (yellow gold, white gold, diamond and jade), yellow gold and platinum rings, all pearl necklaces and bangles. All I have are what I had on me over the weekend and some rings they somehow missed which cost way less than what I lost
- Tag Heuer Alter Ego watch with diamonds (and they no longer carry this line)
- Gucci accessories: two leather bracelets, one stainless steel bracelet, one silver pendant, some silver earrings, one pair of yellow gold earrings, one white-gold-with-diamonds ring
- Foreign currencies: hundreds each of Euros, Dollars, Pounds and other currencies
- A LeSportsac pouch containing foreign currencies (another pouch also containing foreign currencies was emptied and left behind)
- Gucci sunglasses: at least four of them
- Leather-ware: Prada wallet
- A bottle of Gucci by Gucci perfume, gift from Peach and Elle
- Both my Olympus digital cameras
- Other accessories/stuff: all my brooches (even those bought from the Avon catalogue), Ferragamo scarf ring, a silver Arsenal keyring (which was my doorgift for joining the Emirates Stadium tour in May 2008), a pedometer and a Casio G-Shock watch
- Gucci keyrings (at least two)
- Never-worn brand-new Burberry belt (which I spent a long time contemplating to buy or not)
- Some RM5 notes
- My Fujitsu laptop
- A pillowcase, leaving my pillow (like me) naked.

Thankfully they didn’t take my handbags or credit cards or IC. And a good thing that my passport is currently with a travel agent.

Again, I must say how f*cking annoying and heart-breaking it is to lose all those. Yes, they are material stuff but I bought them with my own hard-earned money after some time of slaving and slogging myself. And I doubt I’d be less annoyed if the things I lost are not branded. I really hope the bastards will rot in hell, I really do. Yes, I am thankful that I wasn’t in when it happened, for who knows what would have happened (would I have been harmed or tied, would I be killed, or would I remain oblivious and dead asleep because of whatever trance they cast?), but it still hurts, irritates, annoys and saddens me to have lost a substantial amount of things. It will take me a very long time to forget and equally long to replenish whatever I have lost if I want to. Surprisingly I’m not scared (yet), I’m just livid and seething with anger and fury now.

Now do you understand why I am in favour of hudud? God’s law is the best, who are we to argue with Him?

I wouldn’t have minded this form of intruder

Crazy Weekend

The traffic jam was especially bad over the weekend. Roads were clogged in my part of the city and I spent so long on Saturday waiting for a blinking bus to come. Why call the buses Rapid KL when they are hardly that, I wonder for the umpteenth time. Fed-up with the wait, I hopped onto a Metro bus but since it was content to linger, I jumped back down and ran to a Rapid bus that just arrived... only to discover a few minutes into the journey that it was not bound for Ampang. I didn’t know there were buses heading to Keramat that passed Ampang Park and I felt a bit embarrassed that I got onto a wrong bus.

I got down at a stop near Jelatek LRT station and was about to contemplate walking the considerable distance in that hot scorching sun to that main city artery, i.e. Jalan Ampang, when a feeder bus pulled up. I checked before boarding, yes, it would go to Ampang Point! Thank God for that.

I suspect it must be the open-house craze or the mid-autumn festival that was the cause of the jam.

The situation was not any better yesterday. We had to endure a four-km stretch of traffic jam back from Akak’s place.

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It was a crazy first 35 minutes of last night’s match between Arsenal and Blackburn Rovers with five goals scored in total! It has been 13 years since a bespectacled Frenchman few people had ever heard of walked into Highbury and played his part in revolutionising the British game and in fact, Wenger’s first match in charge was against Blackburn in October 1996, with Ian Wright bagging a brace in a 2-0 win at Ewood Park. Titi Henry was in attendance and he was greeted warmly by the fans. For more pictures of Titi, go here.






Blackburn didn’t sit down for once and to the boys’ credit, they bounced back. Classy Cesc also managed to get himself on the score-sheet with Arsenal’s fourth goal – after trying to pass it around, the ball still came to him and he decided he’d just thump a left-foot half-volley of his own right into the top left corner from 19 yards. Sweet! Cesc ran over to the corner of the ground where former captain Titi was sitting, made a big show of grabbing his shirt and kissing the club badge before pointing to every part of the ground. It was a gesture not just designed for Henry but for the home fans, to signal that he was dedicating his sensational performance to the supporters, to send a clear message about his love to Arsenal and to underline his commitment to the club despite Barca’s public declaration that they wanted to sign him. He has Arsenal DNA, you hear?

Man of the match: With four (or five?) attempts saved by Robinson, four assists and one goal for himself and countless other stunning passes, it was definitely Captain Marvel aka Captain Fantastic Cesc Fàbregas.

As for Titi, hey, he may very well return to Arsenal and even manage the club!

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Cesc has been speaking of his manager in the wake of his becoming the longest-serving manager at Arsenal. Check it out here, here and here. Go here and here for galleries on Wenger, his thirteen years of transfer, top five signings, the Wenger years and Froggie’s comments on Wenger.

Love Life

More than a decade ago, Abah discovered he had high cholesterol. He used to and still does receive a lot of invitations to feasts (kenduri) and wedding reception that he somehow forgot to monitor what he ate. In a way, the discovery helped make him realise the importance of watching his diet – we all need to watch our diet especially as we grow old.

Since then, I have been conscious myself of what I consume. I am determined not to get high blood pressure and/or diabetes. I want to live a long, healthy life and while health is not free, being sick is even costlier (think of hospital bills and medications). I cut down on my sugar and sodium intake – so much so sometimes I feel faint (because of low sugar) and other times, I get leg cramps (because of low sodium).

It’s still a work-in-progress - I’m still trying to eat a balanced meal and live a healthy life. I still succumb to the evils of MSG-laden junk food but on the plus side, I’ve cut down on eating processed food and visiting fast food outlets. I also try to eat moderately – hey after all, too much of anything is never good. I don’t drink fizzy drinks, coffee and dubiously colourful drinks (because of the colourings). I’m now hooked to watching The Biggest Loser (ever since Ramadan where I broke fast in front of the TV watching the programme) but if you want to start living but not diet, check this out (disclaimer: I shall not be held responsible). I don’t really watch my weight because I’m blessed with a high metabolism but I still must watch what I eat because I believe our metabolism slows down as we grow older (on this note, I just went to weigh myself at the gym and must say I’m unimpressed with my stagnant weight. It’s like the month-long of fasting and then some has no effect whatsoever. It’s not as if I’m hoping to shed weight, it’s just that I feel that the weight reflected on the machine is not reflective of my fasting efforts).

No, this is not part of The Biggest Loser programme

I’m still too lazy to work out on my own and I don’t like to go the gym; I much prefer to go for morning or evening walks and I do walk a lot. I hope I can run one day though and be fit (even better if I can run for a good cause) and anyway, I just read that it’s not necessary to join a gym. Simple exercises do count too and you can even multi-task your exercise regime, for example by walking on the spot while waiting at the traffic light (some people spot jog), standing on one foot while brushing your teeth, parking far away so that you walk longer to your destination, taking the stairs where possible, in short multi-task your way to easy fitness. I have no patience for people who take the elevator one floor up or down, nor can I understand people who stand immobile on travellators (hello, escalators and travellators/walkalators are invented to help us get from one point to another in shorter time, not to make us lazy).

Good good-looking Gunners running for a good cause

I try to protect my eyes and skin from the sun’s harmful rays and wear sunglasses and use the brolly as much as possible (I still get amused when people comment on my use of brollies). There’s been a lot of news about people dying from cancer of late and I think I have enough experiences of that, thank you very much. I also believe in pampering and indulging myself occasionally with facial treatment and massage. I think I deserve it and it makes me feel good about myself and I believe I’m worth it. (Hello, my name is Adek Fàbregas and I love myself).

I believe we owe it to God and ourselves to live a healthy life.

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Speaking of life (but in a different context), it has been thirteen years today since Wenger joined Arsenal, becoming the club’s longest-serving manager. Charlie George asked us who visited the Emirates that one fine day in May 2008 who is the club’s best signing. The answer: Arsène Wenger (and when asked who he thought should be captain, without hesitation, Charlie replied, ‘Cesc.’). Wenger must really love life at Arsenal for he turned down the job at Real Madrid (go here for Wenger’s top ten signings at Arsenal and his best quotes).

And guess who else is loving life at Arsenal and happy in London. Why, Cesc, of course. Real Madrid and Barcelona, please take note. Oh sure, I know he would want to play for his childhood club again one day, but not yet. For now, he’s The Untouchable.

Hands off, he’s mine - and Arsenal’s!

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It’s hard life now for those affected by typhoon Ketsana in Manila, Vietnam and now Cambodia, tsunami in Samoa and recurring earthquakes in Sumatra. According to Andrea, the flood water reached the first floor (second floor if you speak American English) of her home in Manila and mid-way to the second floor. She and family are unhurt but have been busy cleaning the house since Sunday.

Take care everyone. God bless.