Travel Bug...

I've been bitten by the travel bug again. This is not good. It is almost March and the wheels at work are now on full swing after the December holiday period. I will not be able to take leave from work to frolic on any beach or stake out at any shopping mall or pig out at any quaint roadside stall. And did anyone mention we're deep in recession? What's wrong with me?

Along with the rest of the nation, I must be in the "when stressed, take a holiday" mood. Tonight's news reports of long snaking queues sighted at the NATAS Travel Fair despite the bleak economy. Or rather, because of the bleak economy. Too much doom and gloom in our own backyard, we therefore have to transverse across oceans to experience the same doom and gloom albeit in a foreign land.

Speaking of holidays, I'm happiest travelling alone or with a like-minded partner although of course, travelling with the brood gives you a different kind of happiness. It's just that once in a while, you long for the footloose and fancy-free feeling of being on your own, doing your thing, sleeping when you want and eating what you like.

My most memorable holiday was a trip to New York with a girlfriend to visit another who had settled there after her marriage. Since it was New York, we had packed our suitcases to the gills but with lots of shopping room to spare too. Let it be known that flight attendants are great at maximising space and still turn out like a million dollars. Did you know that a top/skirt/pants ensemble can be worn 5 ways? More when you throw in accessories and other knick-knacks.

For want of a better word, that trip was an immeasurable experience. We roamed the city, chatted with the locals, took all the subways, ate all the hotdogs, checked out the museums and galleries, went to Wall Street for a memorable picture with the famous bull icon and almost froze to the bone on the ferry to Staten Island so we could say "I've been to the Stature of Liberty". And never once did we feel that New Yorkers were snobbish or brusque or uncouth. In fact, some of them went out of their way to help us with directions and whatever else that we wanted to know.

This is how I like my holidays. No agenda, no time limits, no rush. Doesn't matter where the destination is.....just me and a good friend on the same page with the same wavelength. But that was a decade ago, I must qualify. It's difficult to be so free and easy when you're responsible for your kiddo, his dad and the suitcases. Hmmm, why does mum always have to be the one to remember where the shampoo's kept and where the keys to the suitcases are?? When my kiddo's grown, I will continue with my adventures because you can never get to see enough of the world.

Yes, I will. In a New York minute.

Betrayal

In an obscure corner somewhere on this earth, a certain lady sits and stares unseeingly at the horizon. With no more tears to shed, she lets her mind float in the oasis of nothingness. Don't think, don't grieve, don't hurt.

I do not know her. In fact, I would not even have heard of her if not for the scandalous pictures splashed across the tabloids and on the Internet. She is Elizabeth Wong. Young, intelligent and beautiful with an upcoming and promising career in public service. But overnight, she fell from grace - just like that.

No, I am not about to delve into what happened and discuss the moral or political implications of this newsbit. I do not share her values but I have no right to exercise judgement either "let he who is without sin, cast the first stone". From the records, Ms Wong has vehemently defended her private life, her rights to privacy and maintained that she had broken no law. Perhaps so. The pictures were taken in the privacy of her home by someone she trusted then.

Working in an all-women environment, this topic is essentially very close to our hearts and has become the subject of our lunchtime discussions. While my colleagues have different opinions and moral convictions on how the exposure panned out, we all agreed that the saddest truth to emerge from this episode is that of betrayal.

Anyone who has been betrayed can vouch that it is one of the worst feelings in the world. To be betrayed, you must first trust. To trust, you must first share of yourself. To share of yourself, you must first have the courage and humility to put the other person above you so that he can be privy to your deepest thoughts and feelings.

To be eventually betrayed by that person, it is possibly a fate worse than death. The greater the trust, the deeper the hurt. I should know. I've been there. No, not the photo thingy but betrayal in the name of friendship.

With Lent so close, I can't help but think of how Jesus was betrayed by people whom he had served, healed and loved "Away with him, away with him, crucify him!' they chorused at Pilate. And how the ultimate feeling of betrayal sunk in as the cock crowed at Peter's third denial. Although our Lord already knew what was on his plate, did it make the betrayals easier to bear? No, not likely so. His humanity made him feel like we do and hurt like we do.

As long as human interactions abound, no one will be immune to hurt and betrayal. We should not let it stifle our friendships or belief in the essential goodness of mankind. I hope Ms Wong glimpses what's really important in life from this brouhaha and emerges stronger from it.

Sinalco

I will think positive. There are things in life worth savouring and going ga-ga over. They might be little events, things of no particular consequence, casual words, the twinkle in someone's eye, the tilt of the lips in breaking a smile, a chance encounter with a stranger or even an empty can of soft drink.....

Last Sunday was rather ordinary. We were at Holland Village for lunch because it had been ages since we set foot in this bohemian enclave. Amazed at the many changes since, we decided to eat at a former dilapidated structure renovated to the current spanking Holland Village Market & Food Centre. This eatery has been touted to give the ritzy wine bars and fine dining restaurants a run for their money.

I was the drink-taker that day because I just had to have my iced kopi-si fix, fast. The hubby ordered "Sinalco". Perhaps I had been living in Mars but for the life of me, I could not associate Sinalco with any soft drink I knew. It was also not displayed on the stall's shelves.

Skepticially, I asked the elderly drinks seller "Uncle, do you have Sinalco?" With a twinkle in his eye, he said "You're really lucky. This is my last can." With that, he went to the fridge at the back of his stall and took out that precious can of Sinalco. "It must be before your time. This is a very old drink, at least 40 to 50 years old." I remember Kickapoo and Green Spot but not Sinalco. That's strange.

As we were finishing our lunch, another elderly man approached us and asked if we could spare him our empty can of Sinalco. To say there was a stunned moment of confusion was an understatement. Two Sinalco encounters within 45 minutes? Was Candid Camera lurking around to make fun of innocent diners?

He was a distinguished-looking man in his 60s and came across as articulate and pleasant. He explained that he had wanted to order Sinalco but the drinks seller had sold his last can to me. He had been waiting for us to finish our lunch so he could collect the empty can.

With a sheepish smile, he confided that he has been a Sinalco lover since childhood and now collects all its memorabilia. He went on to share that Sinalco is one Germany’s oldest soft drinks brand and had surpassed Kickapoo and Green Spot in popularity during his time.

A little chance encounter but so much history to learn! I felt particularly put in my place (and rightly so, I mused) because all I knew growing up was McDonald's and Coke. There is this great big world out there with rich history of food and beverages from different eras and cultures. Sometimes it's not even about the food but rather, a fad of following, an identification, a reminiscence and a slice of history a person wishes to preserve forever.

Just like the elderly uncle and his Sinalco memorabilia. I can't help but smile whenever I think of our empty can taking its place in his home.

Humility and tolerance?

Some of the basest human behaviours emerge as our society continues its progress in science, technology and medicine. Ironical? Yes, but justifiably so.

Today's world leaves no time and place for graciousness and basic humanity. Incidentally, a blog I've been following has this to say about acquiring knowledge "If such acquired knowledge simply serves oneself and demanding the entire universe to circle around one's life, it creates a utilitarian attitude that will serve no one in general and eventually degenerate to a life that hints of arrogance, pride and self-love." Arrogance, pride and self-love. The world is full of them camouflaged as human beings walking, eating, breathing and working among us. In all likelihood, they might even be us.

Where is humility and tolerance? It is in the teacher forced to apologise to her student over a misunderstanding. A misunderstanding that occurred only because she was trying to do her job. A misunderstanding that occurred only because the girl had not liked being reprimanded for her misbehaviour and had gone home to exaggerate the drama.

As a professional, the teacher had called the girl's mother to make peace but was instead ordered to apologise to the daughter. Humility and tolerance is in the lone tear silently rolling down her face as she put down the phone. It is in the quiver of her lips as she bit back the bitter taste of this humble pie.

Humility and tolerance is in a domestic helper bearing the brunt of her employer's tirade....over a dish at dinner. It is in not having a voice to refute the employer's version of the story even though the story was flawed and lopsided. It is in putting up with indignity because of the mouths to feed at home.

Why are all these atrocities committed with nary a night's lost sleep? Why do bullies thrive whereas the weak just suffers in silent desolation? Matthew 7:12 is my one of my favourite verses but does it have a place in our lives today?

The visual of the lone tear snaking its way down the teacher's cheek and the echos of stifled sobs will forever be etched in my mind as a stark reminder of this arrogant, proud and narcissistic world we live in.

My Chinese New Year Musing

Okay, I'm so going to confess this even if it means getting rotten eggs and stale cabbage in my direction. I never did like Chinese New Year and all the festivities associated with it. There, it's finally out in the open!

While I go through the motions every year, the underlying emotions have always been the same. I cannot identify with all the ado about preparing for the festival because most of them are steeped in traditional Chinese culture dating back centuries.

A convent girl married to a Peranakan, my mother could not even speak Mandarin until recent years when she started mingling with church folks from the Chinese ministry. She now watches Channel 8 and spouts proverbs and idioms effortlessly. But decades ago, she was just another baby-boomer who wore James Dean on her sleeve and embraced the Twist more than anything her Fujian-immigrant father could impart to her.

So you can imagine the Chinese New Year scenario in my home as a kid. It was never a big thing with us except for going to grandma's place on the first day (年初一). When I was in the airline, I started to go overseas for the occasion and just chill out in a hotel somewhere. The low-occupancy rate and lull period meant I had more time at the pool and more privacy at the sauna. Truly, I could only withstand so much visual assault of everything-red and the clang of loud cymbals!

With a family of my own now, have I mellowed or should I say.......begun to accept in-your-face loud colours and equally deafening 'Dong Dong Chang' music as part and parcel of being a Chinese? I still cringe when these songs are blasted at the supermarkets but I do not hurriedly scamper away by the middle of 恭喜, 恭喜, 恭喜你! Well, the loaf of bread and carton of milk still have to be bought. Duty over preference now.

Chinese New Year has also taken on a deeper significance because my in-laws are a little more traditional. They would spring clean the house, deck it with beautiful red and gold ornaments and array potted plants along the porch. I especially treasure the reunion dinner on the eve, attending mass together on the first day and the sumptuous lunch at Ah Zuo's (grandma-in-law) house on the second day. This year, I even braved the hustle-bustle Chinatown crowd with my mother-in-law to pick out a cheongsam for myself!

I'm not sure if I can say I've come into my own. I guess I've grown and am less obstinate about a lot of things. Chinese New Year is here to stay. As a Chinese, I have a duty to pass on the tradition to the next generation.