Sugar Rush

You know you are an unker when you walk into an old-school biscuit shoppe and get all excited with these sugar tops you ate during recess in Kindergarten 30 goddamn years ago!



Some things never change.

And sometimes, you wish the sweet innocence of a 5 year old never did go away...

Driving fast and Eating fast too...

The feeling of driving down Gelang Patah stretch of highway at 205 km/h is soooo thrilling.
It was so surreal, with my engine purring effortless at that speed, I started to run out of highway.
Wish the moment will last longer, as I was pushing for the top speed of 230 km/h.

Sometime, life is like this. The faster you push, the quicker the moment will end.
(Not unlike sex :P)

Now that I am officially 34, I got this mid-30's crisis coming up.
What I have achieved? What I HAVE?

I am blessed that my fiancee is such a wonderful gal.
Liked a friend who told me, "This type of girl, cannot find already. All extincted."
Though I have not dated alot (with other girls) , I would like to say that I do really think that I can't find a better woman to call my own.

I feel time is passing too fast, we must grab hold of "now" and slow it down.
Can't believe that nearly half of my life is gone.












Last night, at a roadside luk-luk stall at Premas Jaya, gobbled down 20 sticks of "junk" food in a short while.
Sigh, and now i can't remember how they tasted like.

Just like living too fast and always looking forward to "weekends".
We forgot to enjoy our "weekdays", life here is such as.
When we are on trips, all days become the day after tomorrow.
There are no labels on each one of them.
Why condemn 26th of Nov, just because it is a "Monday"?
Everyday, is a good day. It is how you make it worthwhile.

Looks like I am raving now.(but it feels so good to get it off my chest)

Have a good day..

Your Chemical Romance

I know you really want to see them Live on 11 Dec.



I also know that their CD has been playing in the Miata for the past month. Maybe two.

Wish we were going. It would have been a welcomed distraction...

Picture Week

The unfavorable weather conditions for diving in Vietnam meant I spent 6 days of my leave stuck on our not-so-sunny little island last week.

But I'm happy I did. Because it was, in large parts, a period where I could get some Me Time thrown in. Waking up at noon, leisurely lunches, reading by the pool and indulging in a spot of photography. The latter being something I really should be getting more of.



And so whether it was triapsing through the Botanical Gardens on a late cloudy evening, sitting by Punggol Beach waiting for darkness to envelop, riding our bikes through the empty barren stretches of Lorong Halus or simply just helping a friend move house and recording the memories of her childhood home for eternity, my trusty Nikons were always by my side.

A great week through the eyes of my lens...

FantAsia

I have a friend who gets lost in Punggol but is extremely adept at navigating the grid-like streets and avenues of New York City.

And it disturbs me that sometimes, we know so much about the 1st World that is America and Europe, and yet ignore our own little neighbourhood that is SE Asia. Is Hollywood to blame? Perhaps. I mean Los Angeles is surely better known and appreciated than say, Udon Thani in the boondocks of Siam.



I've made somewhat of an early New Year resolution to learn more about my own backyard. And the more I read photo-journalistic articles, either on the net or in my lastest copy of Asian GEOgraphic, the more I realise I have a long way to go somewhat before truly recognising the beauty and wonder that is our very own continent.

The newspapers are already rife with the blood-shed, political instability and poverty of this region which always seems to be in some calamity or another.

So lets take a step back and look at things from the softer side. A side that tells us of the beauty of hiking the Annapurna ranges, what it means to be Straits-Chinese, North Vietnam's poor and obscure hill tribes or the fast-fading mix of old and new at the Temple Plains of Bagan, Myanmar.

Lets rediscover this Fantasia.

Faces

An abused pound puppy still finding its way to love humans once more.

Poor Cambodian children for which the Angkor Plain is their past, present and future all rolled into one.

Inanimate miens and complete strangers, stoney expressions that still manage to tell of experiences gone by.

Friends, perhaps individual portions of our own psyche.



A picture paints a thousand words. But really, a face paints a thousand more.

A man sets out to draw the world. As the years go by, he peoples a space with images of provinces, kingdoms, mountains, bays, ships, islands, fishes, rooms, instruments, stars, horses, and individuals. A short time before he dies, he discovers that that patient labyrinth of lines traces the lineaments of his own face.

Jorge Luis Borges, Afterworld, El Hacedor

Kinda' Nice

We went cycling today.

Well not quite the usual type of pedaling which involves using the two feet in a circular motion. Blame the rain.



But the feeling of doing something together. After so long. Inspite of the oddity of having 2 TREKs hanging on to the behind of a yellow 'coupe' in the drizzle.

Was kinda...nice.

Jokers

Five hours of Karaoke last night.

Croaking out of tune, lotsa beers plus spirits and fooling around like a bunch of giggly teenagers.

And then this 1968 song by the Bee Gees came on before closing time. We just sat there and listened to Robin Gibb's plaintive vocals for a good 2 minutes. Then joined him in earnest for a rousing, melancholic chorus since in more ways than one, we were kinda like Jokes ourselves...

I started a joke
Which started the whole world crying
But I didn't see
That the joke was on me

I started to cry
Which started the whole world laughing
Oh had I only seen
That the joke was on me

I looked at the sky
Rolling my hands over my eyes
And I fell out of bed
Cursing my head from things that I said

'Till I finally died
Which started the whole world living
Oh had I only seen that the joke was on me

I looked at the sky
Rolling my hands
Over my eyes
And I fell out of bed
Cursing my head from things that I said

'Till I finally died
Which started the whole world living
Oh had I only seen that the joke was on me
Oh no! that the joke was on me
Oh...

Unkers & Vino - Gewürztraminer Spätlese 2006

Ask anyone about wines from Germany and a Reisling would almost always pop out of nowhere.

It seems that Reisling is the only grape varietal people know to exist in Deutschland. I can't say they are to be blamed though since of all the Old World wine-producing countries, Germany is perhaps the least glamorous. When compared to her more illustrious siblings France and Italy, alot of connoisseurs snub their noses at the large amounts of mediocre sweetish white wine that has been unleashed to export markets over recent decades.

But I like German whites. The mid-range ones that is when I am in the mood for something light and fruity. And since I am not one to enjoy a dry French Chardonnay, its either almost always a Riesling from Rheingau, a Bacchus from Rheinhessen or this one I tried last night, a Gewurztraminer from the Pfalz region.



This chappie is an aromatic wine with a delicate floral scent. Distinct notes of lychee, blackcurrant and bramble coat the palate, being very characteristic tastes of the Gewurztraminer grape. With a smooth and fleshy mouth feel, this wine pares well with spicy food but we had it with a fantastic cheese platter instead and noticed how it went down so well with the black-pepper chedder.

The thing about Old World wines also is that the labels can sometimes be bloody confusing. We are so used to the New World Varietal Labels that when we are confronted with a old-school Geographical Label, we find ourselves desperately trying to look for the grape variety which is sometimes tucked away in the melee of romanized alphabets.



As a sort of German Wine Label 101, let me point out how one should read a 'neo-Nazi' label.

Pfalz - One of 13 specified quality Wine-producing regions in Germany. Of which Rheinhessen, Rheingau and Mosel-Saar-Ruwer are some of the others.

Gimmeldinger Meerspinne - The name of the brand or Producer

Gewurztraminer - Grape Variety

Spatlese - means 'late harvest' and medium sweet. And 2nd on the rung after Kabinett (medium dry) but before Auslese (sweet), Beerenauslese (very sweet) and Eiswein (intensely sweet) or Ice-wine if you like.

Rudolf Steigelmann - The Vineyard or chappy in-charge of the vineyard

Highly reccomended this one. And at 40 bucks a pop, quite affordable too.

You & Me

Some believe Sepia is for all things past. And yet in my sea of colored pictures, little remain of these old, precious memories.



Happy Birthday.

Wish we had more to say...

You Can Call Me Marx

Hello, my name is Max but u can call me Marx.



That's how my Austrian Daddy says it should be pronounced. He's giving me up because he broke his arm while biking. No, I didn't bite him. Although once, while he tied me to his wrist while doing sit-ups, I did try to lunge at that tasty looking jogger who I swear looked like a piece of moving steak. Poor Daddy tore a ligament.

Other then that little mishap, I'm a fit little boy with nice tanned fur and plenty of muscles around my tight, sinewy frame.

I also like running and intimidating stupid humans, who suck their teeth and make funny noises at me, with my set of pearly white fangs.

Today, someone came to see me. I hope he becomes my new Daddy cos I like him. He says he will bring me jogging.

I am a thoroughbred German Boxer. Let me show you how I zoom like a Porsche.

Woof.

Unkster Unwound - CD of The Week

To think I used to call him Prince Mumbly.

All thanks to his trademark lazy enunciation and chic slurring. Anyway since 2 years ago, I've grown to adore Jay Chou's brand of R&B, Rap and Classical fusion-pop. He may not be much of a looker and actor. But since his foray into the Big Screen with Initial D, followed by Curse of The Golden Flower and this year's wonderful directorial debut, Secret, even Chinese Cinema doyen Zhang Yimou has remarked that one day, Mr Chou's skills may even surpass his own.

Not bad for someone who started off writing songs for people like Jolin Tsai, Vivian Hsu and S.H.E. Now the fella composes his own music, directs his own movies and videos plus produces all the stuff. I don't think many of the pretty boys and girls of Chinese pop can claim to have so much creative input into their output.




This year's album release is entitled On The Run (or I Am Very Busy if you take the direct Mandarin translation). In it, Jay once again shows off his smorgasboard of musical styles from American banjo Hillbilly folk to feet-stomping Blues-Rap. But he does it all in a way that the songs still sound distinctly Oriental. However I still love the man for his hauntingly melancholic ballads and Track No. 7 (I'm Not Worthy) does the trick for me. Plus it has an excellent music video which I have just finished watching for the like 12th time.

Yes I know, very star-struck pre-pubescent schoolgirl.



Well wait till I tell you I have tickets to catch his concert on 17 Jan next year.

Oh boy, what a Groupie!

Alien Nation

There is an application in the popular Facebook social network that allows you to show your friends the countries and cities you have visited so far.

Its a map of the world, with little pop-up pins sticking out of the places you have been to. And I know some people take great pleasure in showing off just how many thumb-tacks they have displayed. Its like, look at me, I'm a Globetrotter you know! It doesn't matter to these people, I suspect, that if you take a drive from Nelson to Invercargill on New Zealand's South Island, you actually pass by many of the major towns that can be happily marked on the map as having been 'visited'. Does it matter that you only stopped in Timaru for a pee? That's another city up for the count.

Well at 34, I suppose I count myself reasonably well-travelled. But then again, if you consider that I haven't set foot in Africa, South America or Scandinavia, let alone the Arctic and Antarctic, I think a little reconsideration of the trotter status is in order. But is it really a numbers game? What does it mean when we say we have Travelled. Because if travelling simply denotes the act of getting from Point A to Point B, with a little business or pleasure thrown in between for good measure, then certainly my map would be bursting with pins.

As I sat in 3rd Class, on an old grimy 'Express' train to Ayutthaya just the other day, it suddenly dawned upon me that perhaps I haven't really travelled much the past 3 decades and a half.

This sudden flash of 'brillance' has unglam underpinings. My butt-cheeks were aching badly from the extremely hard seats and we were woefully bemoaning our lack of foresight in having planned this sojourn to the Ancient Capital a little better. We could have gotten ourselves 1st Class plush cushions in an air-conditioned cabin had the tickets been purchased one day before. Gawd! and I thought the old North Borneo Express was bad last September. This was several times worst.

And so when I knocked my head for the upteenth time on the paint-peeled window sill while dozing off, I asked myself, do we plan to travel, or do we travel to plan?

You know I used to draw up beautiful itineraries for all my trips. With every minute detail covered to the second. How else did we manage to complete 11 Japanese cities in 2 weeks? Or take in almost all of New South Wales, Victoria and Canberra in 11 days? It was sheer precision at work. Much like the efficient Shinkansens that pull up at the sterile Nipponese platforms, plus or minus a few milliseconds from the scheduled timetable. I also had EXCEL spreadsheets on the laptop I brought for holidays where the battle plans of which sights to visit, and at what time of day (or night), were meticulously drawn out. The result of it all? I usually got to see almost all the major points of interest in the shortest time possible. The Plans became my comfort zone.

But I realise now that although I saw alot, I really experienced nothing.

Is this what we call travelling? By the sheer number of miles and sights it is. But if you have ever made that unscheduled detour only to be pleasantly surprised by the wealth of smells and sounds the Guidebooks don't tell you about, or had a long impromptu chat with the security guard of your hotel over a takeaway coffee at midnight about the imminent return of Thaksin to Thailand, or having decided to skip the buffet breakfast for a morning jog to the neighbourhood grocer for some fruits, you find yourself reading the paper at the corner newstand till lunchtime while munching an apple, you will know that sometimes, we really need to just travel and see where the next plan (or whim) takes us.

I suppose its this fear of the unknown that compels us to strategize and agonize over details. We then become slaves to our own plans. I haven't met anyone who has totally embraced the unknown. And yet, it is only when we venture into the Unknown, the wild blue yonder as it were, would the envelop of unfamiliarity, ironically, bring us out of our shells and make us real Travellers. The outcomes need not always be favourable and no doubt, the thought of being on a packaged tourbus with the warm and reassuring spectre of the Guide upfront babbling into the microphone, will sometimes tempt us.

However I reckon we will be richer for the experience of thinking on our own 2 feet, of being able to resolve real-time issues with real-time logic, and of reaching that final destination clinging onto the behind of a swerving schoolbus only to discover that your camera has fallen and rolled into a ditch 10 miles behind. Of doings things in a foreign land you would normally not even think about, let alone plan about.

We must start being aliens in a strange land, before we can even begin to call ourselves Travellers.

In some ways, such isolation is a pre-requisite.

A Dispatch From Siam 4

I didn't wake up in time for the 3hour bus ride to Kanchanaburi to see the infamous Bridge over the Kwai.

It was not unexpected. Considering we haven't done one iota of shopping yet and the tiredness from all that travelling out of Bangkok these past few days hasn't quite dissipated. Well I am considering taking the ungodly 5am bus up 130km Northwest tommorrow from Sai Tai Mai terminal before my flight home in the evening, since that would give me a good 4-5 hours to look around the Death Railway and perhaps triapse the JEATH War Cemetary and its environs. But since its almost 3am Thai time now, I won't wager much on getting my butt off the bed in an hour's time.

So the 'masterpiece' of thousands of malnourished and severely disease-afflicted Allied POWs will have to wait till next time I suppose. Pity.

But we did a spot of shopping today. Scarce consolation really. After waking up late and popping into the gym across at the Baiyoke Sky Hotel for a quick 45min workout and swim. Well at least I did. Hell I've drunk 3 Oktoberfests worth of alcohol these past 5 days and really, I don't want a souvenir beer belly from Thailand. I'm almost scared to pat myself on the tummy.

The shopping scene has changed somewhat since my last trip here in Apr 06. Back then, Siam Paragon was the jewel of Pratunam at the heart of Bangkok. Seriously putting the 'futuristic' Bladerunner-esque MBK to shame with its glitzy shops and cavernous, Ritz-Carlton lobby of a Cineplex Box Office. Now, lo and behold, Central World has risen from the ashes of the old World Trade Centre diagonally across from the much Wai-ed-at Erawan Shrine. And I must say, Ngee Ann City, Eat Your Heart Out!

Its clear to me, that when it comes to design aesthetics and a flair for creative spatial ingenuity, the Thais whip our sorry little obiang arses quite soundly. They are also much better at window dressing and branding, eschewing the cliched advertising campaigns around the 4 alphabets, S-A-L-E, that we see so much of around our sunny Orchard of a Shoppers' Paradise. Its almost as if one would pay alittle more for the branded items you find in Bangkok just because the shopping experience and level of service are several notches higher. And yes, when I say branded, I mean Calvin Klein, G-Star RAW, branded. Not the RedBull, Singha, Chang Beer sleeveless rags adorning the stuffy alleyways of Chatuchak.

But being on a tight travelling budget in view of another diving trip (I hope) next week, my final Bought-list shows a pathetic longsleeves Rashguard and Crew-neck from Quiksilver and a pair of camou-printed flip-flops from a Thai brand (I think its De-Fry or something) that unabashedly wants to be the Siam-equivalent of Abercrombie & Fitch.

I'm also absolutely hooked on Thai roadside fried chicken. You know, the push-cart vendor kind where the crispy brown wings and drumsticks are swarthed in an aromatic Tuk-tuk exhaust marinade. Absolutely lovely. Colonel Sanders can take the next NOK Air flight out to the boondocks. I'm a 30-Baht-for-six-pieces convert. But for old times sake (I used to work in Bangkok), I brought Kat to the Foodloft at Central Chitlom for a late lunch and the nice high-rise view of Sukhumvit and Silom. Great place to sip a Cappuccino really and look down on the vehicular mayhem down below. Dinner was more road-side fare. This time, a whole Catfish caked in salt and grilled over a charcoal flame. We tried not to think about where the fish came from. Considering that back home, the amateur Thai-worker anglers usually fish from filthy canals. Well, that's what the tabs of Lomotil are for.

Right?

A Dispatch From Siam 3

It costs 200Baht an hour for the Broadband connection they have here at the Baiyoke Boutique hotel in Pratunam, Bangkok. That's about 10 SGD, thereabouts, and yet I am here. Fixing a fix that has to be fixed or else I cannot go to sleep. Its called Internet Addiction.

We spent a lovely day in Ayuthayya today.

With 2nd Class train tickets on the way up and 3rd Class hard seats in a dining car on the way back. 2 hours each trip. And yet I enjoyed the ride. I'm beginning to see myself on trains much more in the coming years. Observing the people getting on and off, gazing out at the countryside, drifting in and out of slumber as the rattling locomotive meanders its way across the countryside. Its a little romantic if you ask me. And somehow, I find myself immersed in my own thoughts and reflections on these trips.

I also rode my first motorbike today. Well we each had a 125cc baby Honda to ourselves for a measly 250 Baht from 11am - 6pm. What a steal. And really, that's the best way to see the ancient Khmer ruins in this old city. You phoot phoot phoot your way from one temple complex to another in quick time, leaving yourself to take a leisurely photo-walk through the Stupas, Chedis, Prangs and Bots. But Ayuthayya is not the Angkor Plain. So really, calibrate your expectations when you arrive here. Don't expect to get the same spine-tingling episode you experience when Angkor Wat first looms into view from the Causeway. The ruins are, how shall I put it, alittle too ruined. But still there are sufficient large bits lying around to make the rickety train ride worth it.

And oh yes, I had a little accident today. Poor inexperienced 'ole me. Revved the throttle with a little too much gusto and had to brake (and fall) to avoid crashing into Kat. Nothing much, a grazed knee and slightly swollen right foot plus torn pants. Sob.

I don't know if we're doing Kanchanaburi later. It'll probably be a day off shopping. I guess...

A Dispatch From Siam 2

I am in Pattaya.

Yes don't ask me how I ended up here. It was definitely not in our initial plans to arrive in this Farang Paradise of Ah-qua A-go-go's and sinful debauchery. But being only about 30km from Si Racha down the coast in Chonburi, and having had a friend drive us down in his zhnged up Vios, we thought, What The Heck.

On Saturday, the beach party at Si Racha was not to be. Instead, we found ourselves at the most unusual of parties. The 4th Anniversary celebrations of the Harley Davidson Motorcycle Club of Pattaya/Si Racha. Yes, here we were, 4 Asian faces in a sea of big brawny Americans, Scandinavians, Aussies and an assortment of other leather-clad Europeans with their equally brawny, chromed-polished, two-wheeled mammoths. But after the initial culture shock, we mingled right in. They're really nice people, these bikers. Most of whom are expatriates working in the area by day. And monster-machine wielding demons at night. There were a couple of really cool Ducatis as well and really, I should be getting my motorbike lessons going again when I return to Singapore.

In an hour or so, I take the bus back to Bangkok. The rest are still in bed, thanks to the 5am Lights Off last night after another intoxicating sojourn out at the Disco. This time, the place was aptly named Lucifer along the Walking Street that has become Pattaya's most famous.

The beach outside is still devoid of the Farangs who are still under the sheets too I suspect. But the colorful ubiquitous umbrellas that dot the entire 4km stretch of fairly white sand are out in full force. And so are the vendors that try to sell you everything from BBQ-ed prawns to a Henna tattoo. Yesterday while lazing at the beach with a couple of Heinekens, we had to fend off at least 20 of these itinerant hawkers. Yes we counted.

Anyway, I'll catch you guys later when I get to Bangkok. If I am still sober that is...

A Dispatch From Siam

A splash and dash in here.

4 hours I spent at Suvarnabhumi yesterday, waiting for the others to arrive on Swissair. 4 hours of bliss spent reading at Starbucks with my Venti-sized Cappucino. Make that 2 Cappucinos.

The airport's just a big hulking mass of bare concrete with little aesthetic decorations here and there. Big yes, pretty no. They tried to give it an industrial-chic look. But I think it just looks cheap. And poorly maintained to boot.

Anyway I am hungover from a night out partying at Hollywood Disco down in Ratchada. Major headache. And the noon sun beating down now on the denizens of Bangkok is not helping one bit.

Chatuchak's gonna be one big sweat fest I tellya!

Later Peeps

My tentative itinerary for the next week or so.

2 Nov (Fri) - Touchdown Suvarnabhumi 1900hrs. Hang around in airport to await arrival of friends at 2100hrs. Late dinner and drinks.

3 Nov (Sat) - Chatuchak market in the morning and a medical supplies shop at Saphan Khwai. In the late afternoon, by taxi to Si Racha, a coastal town before Pattaya in Chonburi province for a Beach Party hosted by a friend.

4 Nov (Sun) - Return to Bangkok. Free & Easy. Will perhaps check out a half-day Spa thingee.

5 Nov (Mon) - Leave early for the floating market at Damnoen Saduak, 110km west of Bangkok. Visit old colleagues upon return. Get day trips organized.

6 Nov (Tue) - By boat along the Chao Praya River to the ancient capital of Ayutthaya. Day Trip.

7 Nov (Wed) - By bus from the Southern Terminal to Kanchanaburi town to see the bridge over River Kwai. May or may not do the Tiger Temple to frolick with the Big Pussies. Day Trip.

8 Nov (Thur) - Chill out. Fly home in the evening.

Will log in if I manage to get myself on the Internet.

Suntory san

Sigh.

Ask a teetotaller to buy you a bottle of whisky and she can completely screw up the alcoholic assignment. And this is after you SMS her the exact wordings on the label.

Having recently been converted to the taste of Japanese 'Scotch', I had asked for a bottle of Suntory's Single Malt Yamazaki, 12 years, to be purchased from Narita.



Instead, I got a bottle of its Royal Blended Blue Label, 15 years.



Older bottle better no?, she says. Its not just about the age girl.

Well, Suntory's Royal blend of whiskies was launched to commemorate its 60th Anniversary way back in 1960. And I read that the company is justifiably proud of this excellent blend. It may not be Single-malt but the giant beverage conglomerate has supposedly blended the fermented grains to perfection.

Having taken a swig of it only just, I must concur. Simple, unfussy flavors when it first hits your palate. Then gently deepening into a sensuous, oakey complex befitting a good ole Scotch from the highlands.

Kan pai!