Category: Diary

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Diary

So I Tried Out The 1-For-1 Exchange Policy

Technology hates me.  That is an open secret.  Millions of people may have no problem with a particular product or service.  But when it comes to my hand, things just go wrong.  Friends would point their fingers at me and say: It is you!  Fair enough.  How am I to dispute?  Like the two phones of the exact model I bought a year ago.  One for Cynthia and one for me.  Mine has to die first.

I always return to a particular shop to buy technology related stuffs.  Not only because they allow me to do a bit of bargaining.  But also at the bottom of the pricing sheet it says 30 Days 1:1 Exchange.

This is the first webcam of my life!

One day after work, I drove 20km shopping for two webcams.  One for my front view.  One for my side view.  Yes, that is how much I love myself.  I bought Logitech HD Webcam C525.  Two of them.  And I have bargained the price down by 10%.  That is fair, I think, since the sales assistant has no value add except telling me that most people buy Logitech webcams.

I am sure millions of people have no problem with Logitech webcams.  I did.  Cynthia and I tried out Google Hangout (you don’t think both are for me, do you?!)  One with acceptable quality.  The one was blurry.  The white balance was off.  Could it be the subtle difference in lighting condition?  I put both webcams side-by-side.  The difference in quality was vast and obvious.  Had I bought one, I guess I would accept either one as it was.  But I bought two.

I have tried re-installing driver and software, swapping the webcams from the two computers of ours.  Nothing changed.  When I held out a piece of Sudoku newspaper cutting as the yardstick, one webcam was clearly blurry.  Perhaps something to do with auto-focus.  The only thing I haven’t tried was to flash its firmware.  On a hindsight, had I done that and purposely killed the webcam by interrupting the update, I could have had a much easier job in asking for an exchange.

So I packed the sort-of-faulty webcam back into its original packaging condition.  On the next day, I drove 20km and requested for a 1-for-1 exchange.  I first approached the Filipino.  He is a friendly guy and he has assembled a few of my computers.  I explained my problem, he looked at my receipt and said, “Talk to the blue shirt guy, the one who sold you the webcam.”

I moved deeper into the shop and approached the Blue Shirt Guy who looks like one of the vampire from Twilight Saga.  The better looking one.  Blue Shirt Guy remembered me and I explained my problem.  Yada, yada, yada.  From his expression, I could almost mind-read him saying, “Hold on a sec.  Let me get you a new one.”

In reality, he said, “Let me talk to my boss”.  His boss looked scary, located at the deep end of the shop.  The most unfriendly looking guy on this floor.  Blue Shirt Guy explained my problem – yada, yada, yada – in Chinese.  Somehow his speech didn’t seem to have the punch.  Therefore I offered my help, put on my charm, trying my best to present my case on why this working webcam has to be replaced.

Then there was whispering between Blue Shirt Guy and the Boss.  Like some sort of argument.  After what appeared as an eternity, Blue Shirt Guy said, “Come, walk with me”.  He led me to his back office operation center, which is a few shops round the corridor.  New computers are assembled in there.  Faulty computers are fixed in there.  As we walked, he explained, “I told my boss we don’t have a computer to test but he insisted.”  He then let out a long sigh.  All these seemed like an extra unnecessary job for him.  I got it.  It was an extra unnecessary walk for me too.

I always bond well with back office guys.  Because I am one too.  After Blue Shirt Guy explained Boss’s request, Back Office Guy protested, “We don’t have a spare computer for testing!”  Blue Shirt Guy concurred, “That is exactly what I said to him!”  Almost too comical.  I would have laughed out loud had my fate not hung on these two’s hands.  Blue Shirt Guy left shortly after the brief introduction and returned to the shop.  What was I suppose to do again?

Casually, Back Office Guy grabbed a newly assembled computer from the ground.  One that I assumed to be delivered to a customer very shortly.  We installed the driver and software, turned on the webcam.  I almost felt sorry to the unknown customer who now has some irrelevant stuffs installed into his or her computer.  Once we started the software, lo and behold, the sort-of-faulty webcam worked almost too perfectly.  The color seemed right and the auto focus seemed fine.  I was dumbfounded.  Without a comparison, it was hard to tell if the webcam was at its finest quality.  I wished I have brought the other one along.

So I stood there, totally awestruck.  And I tried to reason with the Back Office Guy that I wouldn’t have driven 20km had this thing worked perfectly.  We stood in front of the webcam for ages, with me trying to making faces to it from near and afar.  It just worked.  But I could not bring it back because I knew this one was not as good.

What’s next?

The Back Office Guy looked at me sympathetically and said, “I tell you what to say.  You say the image is a bit blurry and I have tested it.”  I repeated the password after him, word-by-word, and he nodded.  I almost wanted to give him a hug when I bid him goodbye heading back to the shop.

The Boss looked too fearsome.  So I approached the Blue Shirt Guy and repeated my password.  He smiled, more than willing to grab a new one for me.  I was pleased and said, “Would you like to call your guy to verify?”  He waved and mouthed: no need.  While he explained this glorious and groundbreaking finding to the Boss, I chitchatted with the Filipino for a bit.  Blue Shirt Guy returned with a white piece of paper and he asked, “What shall I write?”

I suppose he needed to return this sort-of-faulty unit to Logitech with a report.  I repeated the problem – yada, yada, yada – and he said, “Is that all?”  I was unsure how to make the report more dramatic so I nodded.  He passed me a new unit and I bagged it.  Then it was my turn to ask, “Is that all?”  He nodded and I left the shop.

The replacement unit definitely works much better than the sort-of-faulty one.  The same quality level as the other one I have.  Why this inconsistency in product quality?  Now I recall.  I once imported a Logitech Squeezebox from US.  My buddy bought one too.  His remote control worked well with a headphone while mine did not at all.  Perhaps with Logitech, there is a 50-50 chance that you would end up with a faulty unit?

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On Lora’s Birthday Bethany And I

Lora is my sister.  Bethany is my niece.  On Lora’s birthday Bethany and I built sand castles at Palawan Beach, Sentosa.  After that joyful afternoon, it took me two days to recover from my muscle strain.  Oh little Bethany.  How you have worn me out.  But that was worth it.  Because  she seems to be friendlier towards me after I have spent some quality and quantity time playing with her.  Her mom was munching under the shade most of the time.  My wife Cynthia too was munching and has elected to supervise the end-to-end process instead.  Her daddy’s job was to fetch sea water.  As for me, I was the designated photographer and the co-sand castle builder.

So the plan was to meet at 10am.  The night before we went to sleep, Cynthia asked if we needed to set the alarm clock.  I casually and confidently waved her thought away and said, “How is it possible not to wake up by nine?”  At 9.50am, Cynthia woke me up from my beauty sleep and we both screamed at the clock.

A few days ago, my sister has this sudden urge wanting to build sand castles by the beach.  Jolly well.  I love the sand and the beach.  It was a warm day.  The afternoon sun was rather punishing.  Fortunately there are shades everywhere in this resort island of Singapore.  I often think that Bethany – like my sister – is a more indoor sort of person who prefers air-conditioning to tomar el sol.  I was quite surprised that Bethany could be pretty active in the outdoor.  Her determination to build sand castles was admirable.  Except, no matter how hard we tried to show her, she used dry sand instead of wet sand.  That did not work out.  Halfway, she gave up and played with sea water instead.

I cannot fathom why she deliberately avoided the wet sand.  Maybe she prefers the lighter color to the darker one.  I do not know.  I tried to teach her to add water to the dry sand inside the cup.  But she tended to pour in too much sea water so much so that the sand turned mud got stuck inside the cup.  What should I do?  Instinctively, squatting next to her, I took the larger bucket and started to fill it up with wet sand.  Bethany followed what I did and fill it up with her personal preference: dry sand.  I mixed our sand as we worked our way and fill the bucket to its rim.  Before I flipped the bucket, I would ask Bethany where she wanted it to be placed.  She would pinpoint a precise spot and we would do the count together, looking into each other’s eyes and said …

1 – 2 – 3 … Wow!

OK.  I have to admit.  It was fun.  It went on and on and had I not stopped, the Great Wall of Sentosa would extend all the way from the tree that shaded us to the shore, which must have been fifty to a hundred meters away.

Normally I bring my 24-70mm f/2.4 lens for a general purpose photography session like this one.  That day, I brought my 70-200mm f/2.4 telephoto zoom lens instead.  I love my zoom lens.  It produces a nice bokeh.  And it collects less background distraction.  No distortion to the faces at 90mm and above.  The only drawback is that it is heavy and it requires quite a distance between my subjects and I.  In an open space like Palawan Beach, the latter is a non-issue.  It has only become an issue when Bethany got friendlier with me and started to get nearer to the camera.  That was when I had to jump backward in order to take a photograph.  All in all, no regret in bringing along my zoom lens.  My intend was to be able to take pictures of Bethany without getting too close and become intimidating.  Objective achieved.

In the past, I host my photographs within my website.  But time has changed.  I am more involved with Google+ these days.  So I am giving it a try and have uploaded the photographs there instead.  I am not sure how this will affect the non-Google+ users.  I hope it doesn’t.  Do let me know your feedback in the comments below.  I would love to hear.

  • Click here to view the photo album (29 photographs)

I am delighted to have found a new way to bond with my niece.  Sand and sun at Sentosa is very doable.  Next time, I may wish to bring my chilled picnic box and stock it up with ice cold Apple Cider.  That would be an ideal way to spend a Sunday.

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Art & Craft With Children At KK Hospital

The corporate volunteering event organizer remembered me.  At KK Hospital, while we were waiting for our lift, she turned to me and said, “We haven’t seen you this year!”

It is true.  It was one year ago when I joined the weeding program at Pulau Ubin.  That was hard work.  Since then, I have been looking for something less laborious and less shocking.  In fact, another option is to spend an afternoon at a mental hospital, which I still haven’t got the courage to sign up yet.  Now that I appear to bond well with my two to six years old nieces and nephew, I thought, perhaps I could contribute my time doing art and craft with children in a hospital.

Except, I have totally forgotten that these children are residing in a hospital for a reason, and they are quite big.  I can’t possibly play hide and seek with them screaming at the top of our lungs and let them beat me up while pretending to be a big bad monster, can I?

Uh oh.  All of a sudden, I realized that I had zero experience for this particular event that I have happily signed up for.

Meet “Lisa”, my proudest creation at KK Women’s and Children’s Hospital witnessed by two children whom I spent time with this afternoon.

Before meeting the children from different wards, 12 of us were briefed inside a room specially prepared for the volunteers.  The dos and don’t’s.  And we have a crash course on how to play the games brought in by our corporate event organizer.  Since I am a balloon phobic, I could not join the balloon making team.  Since I am not that good at playing children’s games, I could not man the common playground area either.  Instead, I was paired up with a female volunteer to visit the children at their beds.  Best practice says that children bond better with women.  I was happy to tug along and let my volunteering partner did the introduction.

Drawing is something I love to do.  So I was delighted for this arrangement.  The tool we have is simple, yet utterly fun.  First, we picked a template with the children.  It could be a bee, a flower, or anything that came with the deck.  Then we put a clear sheet of plastic on top of the template and traced the object with some thick ink.  As and when the ink dries up – hours or days – it can be peel off from the plastic sheet.  I told the 12 years old boy that he could stick it onto his daddy’s Apple laptop and we giggled.  OK, I am jumping ahead of my story.

The girl was 19 years old.  We chatted while we drew.  She said she could not draw.  But nothing is impossible after a few words of encouragement.  We talked about K-pop and J-pop.  We talked about seeing the world.  She liked photography and that was quite frankly my favorite topic.

At the other end of the ward, a 12 years old boy saw the three of us having fun.  He also wanted to join.  With my new found confidence, I headed over to him, alone.

Again, he told me that he could not draw.  And he seemed slightly frustrated by the mistakes he made.  I said, this is art, you don’t have to follow the template!  I showed him what I have got, which was totally abstract and random.  All of a sudden, he smiled.  We removed the template underneath so that he could draw freely.  Halfway he stopped and asked me, “What is this that I am drawing?”  Honestly I have no idea.  But it truly looked beautiful.  So I started rotating his drawing and showing him how we could interpret an art from different perspectives.  I then showed him that we did not have to see the picture from above.  Instead, we could turn flip it over and observe its mirror image.  The boy seemed enlightened and he asked if it was OK to add a sun (that later turned into a hand) onto his drawing.  I smiled and said, “Sure you can!”

He said, “I really love drawing!”

I replied, “That is great!  Now keep drawing!”

“I want to be an artist when I grew up.”

“Me too!”

“What do you do?”

“I love to paint and I love creating music.”  (OK, I did not tell him that I write emails and minutes for a living.  That would have been rather uninspiring, I reckon.)

We talked about many things.  He asked if I have a Facebook account and I said no (as briefed by the hospital staff earlier on).  He asked if my band has a video clip on YouTube and I said no (which is true).  He asked how long I would stay with him and I said till I am hungry.  So we have a few hours, he said and I nodded.  I did not stay long because the medication seemed to have zapped his energy away.  At least he has completed his drawing with me by his side.  And I left my drawing titled “Lisa” for the little boy as a souvenir.

What a fulfilling day today in getting to see another aspect of life.

I took a picture from the garden before the event started.
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On My Birthday My Wife And Buddy

On my birthday my wife and buddy took me for a health check, at Universal Studios.  To see if my heart is still as strong as ever.  Oh, those mechanical rides.  I will get to that later.

My buddy TK has decided to take me for a ‘date’ at Universal Studios Singapore on my birthday as he has a pair of complimentary ticket. Cheers mate! My wife was super excited on our excursion. Photographs of this entry taken using my phone.

Rewind to late last evening.  My mother knew that I would take leave on my birthday, like I always do, and hence I would be home late the next day.  So she called wishing me an early birthday.  How sweet of her.  I love you ma.

At the stroke of midnight, Cynthia and I were battling demons in Diablo III.  Act III, Hell difficulty.  Since we did not need to work the next day, we pushed on with our public game and completed the act.  We were ecstatic on this milestone achievement.  It was tough but we did it.  We went to sleep happy.

Since last weekend, my buddy TK and my wife Cynthia have planned what we should do on my birthday – a visit to Universal Studios Singapore.  How sweet of them.  While both appeared to be more excited than I was at the time of planning, once I stepped into the theme park, I was in high spirit, as excited as they were.  Adding three of our age up well exceeds a century, but yet we were like kids and tourists seeing the attraction the first time.  It was a weekday therefore the queues to most of the rides were under 10 minutes, which was an icing on the cake.

First stop, Transformers the Ride: The Ultimate 3D Battle.  I am not really a fan of Transformers though I once held a contest here.  The ride was fantastic.  It is similar to watching a 3D movie and gets to experience the G-force as our vehicle dashed in and out of the battle between the super-sized robots.  I felt as though I was in the movie.  When will video gaming give us a forth dimension of experience, I wonder.

The Battlestar Galactica (1) Human and (2) Cylon rides are intense, especially when you experience one after another immediately.

The Battlestar Galactica themed roller coasters are no joke.  They are intense, meant for the strong hearts.  Red is the Human ride while blue is the Cylon ride.  Both rides run in parallel with each other.  The main difference is that Human ride is the traditional roller coaster that boosts the speed up to 82.8 km/h while the Cylon ride is a suspended coaster that goes up, around and upside down in a corkscrew and cobra roll style.  The pamphlet says that the roller coasters are over fourteen stories high.  That is as high as the condominium Cynthia and I are staying.  Imagining such height sends a chill down my spine.

Three of us have completely different spontaneous reactions to the ride.  TK would go wah, wah, wah.  Cynthia would scream at the top of her lung, with her eyes closed.  It scared me a little bit because I have not heard her screams with such power and intensity before.  Even as the ride came to an end, when no one was screaming, Cynthia would continue to scream, with her eyes closed.  As for me, I would go hahaha, hahaha, hahahah.  It was a fun ride and a funny ride.  I could not stop laughing out loud, literally.  You should see Cynthia’s condition after the Human ride.  Her hair was moist, flying everywhere.  Possibly the most hilarious thing we have seen that day.

At a fountain somewhere in the Far Far Away land.

After the three intensive rides, we passed by Ancient Egypt that features the Revenge of the Mummy ride.  Cynthia has decided to sit herself out on this one.  Totally understandable.  TK hesitated but was convinced by my enthusiasm.  Basically, it is an indoor roller coaster somewhat similar to the Transformers one, but much shorter, without the 3D glasses.  There were some scary moments.  But nothing two grown men who have come, seen, and conquered the Human and Cylon rides cannot handle.  We skipped the Lost World and headed straight to Far Far Away.  Yes, three of us love Shrek and welcomed a more gentle form of entertainment.  The Shrek 4D Adventure is pretty fun, especially when you are a fan.  I had to keep my mouth shut throughout the show so as not to swallow the water of suspicious origin sprayed onto us.

We hopped into a restaurant when the rain started.  By the time we were done with lunch, the rain has stopped.  We reentered Universal Studios.  Just nice for a final family oriented ride – Madagascar: A Crate Adventure.  An indoor boot ride whereby we sat back, relaxed, and enjoyed watching the animated mechanical animals having a party together.

I have this for lunch.

Then we headed out to the mall next door – Vivocity – for our Amazing Spider-Man treat.  That was my idea.  Though I dislike remakes, Emma Stone is too good to be missed.  And I love it, TK loves it, Cynthia loves it.  I wonder if there will be a sequel.  How would this story tie back to the original story whereby Peter Parker dates Mary Jane?  No idea.  And please don’t tell me.

By the time we reached home, after yet another sumptuous meal, I was shagged.  Time to watch F1 Silverstone online via ESPN Player.  mioTV did not broadcast F1 live last weekend, boo.  Thanks to ESPN posting a video thumbnail of Mark Webber opening champagne at the podium, before I watched the race, I could already guess who the winner was.  Common sense is indeed not that common.  Who would choose that as a thumbnail for the audience planning to watch the feed?  In any case, I am happy with the result.  Although I would want Alonso to win, Webber has a special place in my heart.

I seldom log onto Facebook ever since I have switched to Google+.  And I am thankful for the birthday wishes I have received from both social networks.  I am also thankful for God’s blessing in surrounding me with wonderful friends and families, and providing me with all that I need.  What a wonderful day.  That video of my 2 years old niece singing birthday song to me simply melts my heart.  Thanks Lora and Benny.

And I have this for dinner.
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On The Same Day Three Unrelated Events

June 15, there were three unrelated events.  It was the high, the low, and the melancholy mid that filled up the in-between.

Every half an hour, horses are led to the starting point for a race that lasts a minute or so.

I was born in Hong Kong.  So naturally, horse racing or rather horse betting should be in my blood.  Indeed, as far as I can remember, it is a big thing in Hong Kong.  Newspapers run full length articles on everything they can find for each horse.  Reporting both comprehensive quantitative and qualitative information so that betters can make decisions.

I was inside a phone booth at work when one of our department managers asked via email if we wished to buy some tickets for charity.  It is in support of providing early treatments to kids in Africa so that they don’t go blind.  Being able to see nature’s beauty is one of the gifts in life.  It is sad to hear that some lose this gift at young age that could have been avoided.  So I bought a deck without thinking much about whether or not I would be one of the seven lucky winners for an evening at Singapore Turf Club.

And I won a pair of ticket.

The event was held in one of the air conditioned room that overlooks the race course.  I have not stepped into Turf Club before June 15.  In fact, I have not seen a live horse racing before that evening.  Cynthia was as excited as I.  On our way to the booth, we were escorted by a friendly staff who has worked in Turf Club for 30 years.

30 years!

He must have loved his job.  Indeed, he was passionately telling us everything about horse racing.  Level 4 of Turf Club is full off corridors with rooms that can be rented for approximately S$800 a night, or for a year at a discounted rate.  There are betting counters manned by friendly receptionists for those who place the bets and collect the wins.  Horse racing happens on Fridays.  On weekend, Turf Club provides live broadcast of horse racing in around the region.  I suppose if you like to bet on horses, Turf Club is the place to be at.

According to our friendly staff, after each race, horses have to go through the urine and blood test.  There is a ‘podium’ like Formula One for the wining horse and its rider to be photographed with their sponsors.  Riders are weighted after the race, just like F1.

If you bet, I reckon the race that happens every half an hour is an excitement to watch.  The race, it seems to me, lasts for a minute or so.  My colleagues were cheering for the horses and at the end of each race, prizes were put into a glass jar as a donation to charity.  Too bad, gambling is not my cup of tea.  To quote my mother, you are already a winner when you have decided not to bet.

I can safely say that F1 motor racing is a million time more entertaining than horse racing. Maybe because I don’t bet.

On the same day, my sole team member called it his last day in my department.  I am 80% happy that he has finally found a permanent position in our company.  He is a smart kid, fully deserves something more than a contract job.  Besides, returning to the front line probably aligns better to his aspiration.  He was put into my team more for headcount administration’s sake.  19% of me is going to miss his company.  What a great guy he is.  As for the remaining 1%, I am concern over the extra work load.  Fortunately, through last minute negotiation, I have secured an alternative arrangement to outsource his role to a foreign country not too far away from here.

At about the same time Cynthia and I arrived at the Turf Club Singapore, my father’s operation started in Hong Kong.  It was hernia.  It does not seem like a major operation so my sister and I stayed put in Singapore, praying for father.  According to my mother, the operation involved the surgeon operating on my father through small holes opened on his abdomen.  I was worried, of course.  Before the event ended in Turf Club, Cynthia and I have excused ourselves for the evening so that I could wait for mother’s phone call at 9pm.  The call came much later due to time the required for my father to wake up from anesthesia.  I am glad that my father managed to receive early treatment.  Praise the Lord.

I do not know how long I will live.  Events like this make you wonder about random things.  Regardless, I think it is important to be surrounded and to treasure those who love you.  And at the same time, reach out to those who need your love.

Since I planned to photograph horses, I have brought a 70-200mm lens to do the job. It is not a lens I often use. But I do love the effect it has on human portraits. I took this photograph of Cynthia at 7pm, outside Singapore Turf Club.
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The Gemini At Home Is One Year Wiser

Traditionally, Cynthia and I take leave on our own birthdays.  This year, we take leave on each other’s birthday as well.  I mean, who would want to face the ever exciting work items and hyper friendly colleagues on our birthdays?  This year, my wife chose to spend her birthday in Sentosa, with the family.  Her mother from Indonesia happens to be in town.  As always, I am the designated transporter and photographer.  And I tugged along for the adventure.

Over the years, Sentosa has changed quite a fair bit.  There is a new casino, or rather integrated resort and there are so many more tourist attractions these days.  The Sentosa I remember of has a musical fountain, a pier, a Merlion statue, a beach, and an Underwater World.  Today, I don’t even know half of the attractions in the island.  The tram service that runs along the southern coast of the island seems to have received an upgrade too.  It now looks more like a long bus.  As an avid F1 fan, I was eager to try the gravity powered go kart.  Then I divide the ticket price with the game duration.  I think I would rather have some Chinese dumplings for lunch, which we did.

Maybe my gigantic camera appears to be intimidating.  Or maybe my mother-in-law is not used to being photographed.  Capturing her smile requires patience.  At times, patience pays off.

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So I Married An Indonesian Who Has Become A Singaporean

In a drastic turn of event, Cynthia shocked the world my world by submitting an application for Singapore citizenship, in her own right, couple of months ago.  My first reaction was: Are you sure?  Indonesia is a vast country rich in natural resources.  From Papua in the east, to Aceh in the west, it is a land overflowed with cultural and biological diversity.  Millions of years ago, when descendants of Adam and Eve left Africa, they did not head northwest to America.  Instead, they headed east, arrived at where Indonesia is today, then moved up to today’s China, and etc.  Two thousand years ago, Indians arrived in Java and constructed the magnificent Borobudur.  With the money we earn in Singapore, we could possibly retire in Bali in a farm, overlooking the beautiful volcano with beer in my hands every day.  My flock of animals would stare at me – their master – curiously while I would dream of roast lamb for dinner.  All of a sudden, my wife wants to be a Singaporean?

Yesterday, inside the office of Commissioner for Oaths, my mother-in-law and I watched Cynthia proudly took up the citizenship in front of a Singapore flag.  We clapped, or rather I clapped and then my mother-in-law followed, after the formality was concluded.  Fourteen years ago, I was in the same office, taking up the oath alone.  On that particular day, I wish someone was there for me.  Witnessing Cynthia swore allegiance to Singapore led me to reliving my moment when I took up my citizenship.  Memories juxtaposed.  That piece of memory does not seem that lonely anymore.

“How do you feel?” asked Cynthia.  Emigration is a personal journey.  We emigrate for reasons that only we alone can fathom.  It took her thirteen years to arrive at that decision.  It took me much shorter than that.  I guess, suddenly, things become very permanent.  Previously, there was always this tiny element of doubt, every five years depending on current policy, whether or not Cynthia’s permanent resident status would be renewed.  Now, we have the same home country.  The feeling is overwhelming.  And it is still sinking in, to be frank.

Cynthia’s journey to her new citizenship was not without hiccups.  On the day of taking up the oath, which by the way, she was momentarily stateless for a week, the Customs ran into some fingerprint verification issues.  Apparently, Cynthia’s fingerprints have changed!  Is she who she claims to be?  The same wife I married to?  Can she modify her fingerprints at will?  How well do you really know your wife?

And of course, there is this Family Card episode that we can now laugh about for many years to come.  It was not funny while we were stuck in the process.  To renounce an Indonesia citizenship, you would need to give up your Indonesian passport and IC, as well as the family card and certificate of citizenship of your father (if you are a Chinese I suppose).  If you ask an Indonesian, I doubt he or she would know what a family card is for.  Basically, it is a piece of paper that documents the family tree of a particular housing address.  So if you are no longer an Indonesian citizen, your name should be taken away from the family card.  That makes sense, I suppose.  But what is a family card for?  No idea.  My mother-in-law in Indonesia had to send the family card via DHL, after sending Cynthia’s renewed IC also via DHL the day before (yet another stressful episode).

“Where shall we visit next?” asked Cynthia.  Having a Singapore passport means visa application headache is gone for many countries.

Perhaps US of A?

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Diary

Feast of the Ascension

Cynthia and I, to be frank, picked Cathedral of the Good Shepard due to convenience.  A six thirty evening Mass in town on a weekday was just nice.  Our Cathedral is the oldest Church in Singapore.  It shows.  Part of the ceiling is falling apart.  There are cracks on the walls and there is no air conditioning, unlike the modernized neighborhood Churches.  Maybe the crowd comprises of mainly tourists or short term visitors, I often find that there is a lack of passion in the community compares to the enthusiastic neighborhood crowd.  The fans that regulate the airflow tend to be exceptionally noisy.  So is the traffic outside.  I can barely hear what the priest says through the mic.  The echo does not help.

Today, we were pleasantly surprised.  I arrived before Cynthia and was greeted by the students wearing Catholic banners ushering worshipers into the Cathedral.  Seventh row seemed agreeable and so, I was seated close to the alter, next to the choir.  Cynthia joined me shortly.  Before the Mass began, the students who wear the banners handed us the song sheets.  We saw music notes.  This is so old school!

The choir, was magnificent.  Jaw dropping it was.  The harmony, the dynamic range, and the tone accuracy.  There were three organists.  Church music is meant to inspire, giving us a feel of divinity.  More often than not, Cynthia and I cringe hearing those who sing in Church.  The pamphlet says the the resident choir is Cathedral Choir of the Risen Christ.  Could this be that famous choir in Singapore?  It could well be.  The last time we heard their music was at Toa Payoh, Church of the Risen Christ.  After the Mass, Cynthia turned to me and said, “Perhaps we shall from now on attend our Sunday Mass here?”

Perhaps.

This evening we Catholics celebrated the Feast of the Ascension.  It is the the fortieth day of Easter, always on a Thursday.  Jesus was ascended to Heaven on this day, thousands of years ago.

Then they gathered around him and asked him, “Lord, are you at this time going to restore the kingdom to Israel?”

He said to them: “It is not for you to know the times or dates the Father has set by his own authority.  But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

After he said this, he was taken up before their very eyes, and a cloud hid him from their sight.

They were looking intently up into the sky as he was going, when suddenly two men dressed in white stood beside them.  “Men of Galilee,” they said, “why do you stand here looking into the sky?  This same Jesus, who has been taken from you into heaven, will come back in the same way you have seen him go into heaven.” ~ Acts I 6-10

The priest who gave the sermon looks old.  The little hair he has left was silvery in color.  Yet, there is such energy and fire radiating from within.  Instead of diving into Jesus’s ascension, he started with a rocket launch back in the sixties when everyone was glued to the television watching the lift off.  Eventually, that rocket took the astronauts to the moon and back.  There was excitement, and anticipation.  It was a successful lift off.  People screamed.

What about Jesus’s ascension?  Are we excited, in a trumpet blast?  Or are we dwelling too much with our worldly matter and have forgotten that with our love and bonding with God, we too are having a piece of Heaven on Earth?  The priest then reminded us: Look up to Heaven as you walk!

It is a powerful reminder that wherever we go, God is with us.  All we need to do is to gaze upon Heaven, with love.

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Diary

Dead Ants Swimming

“Death is everywhere.  There are ants in my cereal, for a start.  Reminding us, we may have a stomachache tonight.

Death is everywhere.  There are ants in my bottle, already drown.  And I can sense the water finished, by tonight.”

– An unknown artist’s adaptation of a well known song.

I don’t get it.  My water is as plain as it should be.  Yet, there are ants drowning inside my sealed water jar.  At home.  Everyday.  I no longer use drinking mugs that are not white in color.  Because I need to see what I am drinking.  In case if I need to fish the bodies out from the water.  Those floating on top that is.  I suppose I could ignore the extra protein content and drink up.  But ants annoy me.  I love the house lizards and I hate the ants.

I am 1.72m tall.  Let’s say, if I am to be represented as a disc in a two-dimension model, I have an effective area of 2.32m² (assuming that I am walking on all four for reasons that will become obvious later).  Singapore has a land size of 704km².  In effect, Singapore is 300 million times bigger than me.

Using the same model, by my calculation, my home is 100 million times bigger than a typical ant that shares the same address as I do.  Yet, if I drop a piece of chocolate on my keyboard right here right now, I bet within minutes, the ants will find it, and munch onto it.  This is mind blowing.  If someone was to unload a truck full of ice cream at Orchard right now, I doubt I would even know about it.  Do ants tweet to each other or what?

Not long ago, I have an ant invasion problem with my breakfast.  Cynthia would prepare cereal for us.  I often stare at the computer screen while having my first meal of the day.  Halfway through my breakfast, I would spot black dots floating on top of the milk.  At first I thought those were pieces of wheat.  In close examination, those were ant bodies.  I would pick them up one after another and dump their bodies onto the kitchen sink.  A dozen, or more.

Cynthia and I have brainstormed on our situation.  And we have come up with the following possibilities.

  1. The ants got into the cereal at the factory and become part of cereal.
  2. The ants got into the cereal during transportation.  Possibly inside a container on a ship.  Because ants swim.
  3. The ants got into the cereal at the supermarket.  In that case, we have some complaint letters to write.
  4. The ants got into the cereal at my home.  We have since locked our beloved cereal inside an airtight container stored in the fridge.  It did not seem to work.
  5. The ants find a way into our fridge, and somehow survive a near zero temperature.  This is evolution.  Ice age ants.
  6. The ants got into the cereal while Cynthia was preparing breakfast.  Cynthia protested that this is preposterous.  Because how can a dozen of ant commandos get into a bowl full of cereals while she fetches milk and makes coffee?  Two minutes top, she said.
  7. The ants were already swimming inside the milk carton!
  8. Edit: Upon reading this post, Cynthia asked, “How about ants that were already hiding in our cereal bowls before breakfast was prepared?”  I guess since this is brainstorming, there are no right or wrong answers.  Could ants be that smart?

Just like that, our mysterious cereal problem has mysteriously disappeared.  Now leaving us to deal with a new problem: Ants inside our sealed water jar.  Were they inside the kettle and died a horrible death?  Or they were merely drown inside the jar?

I have no clue.

“Death is everywhere.  The more I look, the ants I see.  The more I feel a sense of mystery, tonight.”

– An unknown artist’s attempt to finish the song.

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Diary Snippet of My Life

Snippet Of My Life Episode 35 – Keep Talking

Love Those Pictures

Unless you are really attractive, I have this tendency to talk to you even if I hardly know you.  That is, despite the fact I am believe it or not, a rather shy person.  I seldom work at the office in town.  But I am there long enough to know that the pantry cleaner’s wife is also a pantry cleaner who works in the same pantry, taking the morning shift.  Or that estate management staff, I presume, from China finds our Sentosa resort charming.  One day, she was happily showing me the evening photographs she took on her iPhone.  I didn’t like her phone.  But I found her affection towards one of our top tourist spots engaging.  When I first started living in Singapore, I was not agreeable with the warm weather.  My sensitive nose sneezed for more than a month.  Long enough to make me wondered if this flu was going to disappear.  My first impression of Singapore was certainly different from hers, it seems.

Who is Going to Pay the S$100 Petrol Bill?

If you are from overseas, you may wonder why Singapore petrol stations need petrol attendants to pump petrol for us.  I always politely decline their service.  Instead, we chat while I work with the pump.

Did you know that as a petrol attendant in Singapore, besides helping customers to pump petrol, it is also your job to clean the outdoor area, including the toilets?  Do you know what happen if someone drives away without paying the bill?

One fine afternoon, an attendant pulled out a white receipt from his wallet, showed me the amount, and told me that someone got away this morning.  And his colleague and him would need to pay back S$100 to the petrol station’s owner because of their negligence.  I was shocked.  S$50 must have meant a lot to him.

My first reaction was: Why didn’t the petrol station owner install a surveillance camera and send the footage to the police?  He said there is no such camera and the owner would not go into such a trouble.  I wanted to ask why but I think I know the answer.  Why go through such hassle when you could get your money back from your staff?

Oh No, Please Don’t Go!

Cynthia and I have lived in our condo for more than twelve years.  We love our current cleaner who has worked here for two years.  During the daytime, he is always being seen working.  Either mopping the floor or cleaning the lift.  He greets us every working morning with a warm smile.  He greets us every time he sees us.  I cannot imagine how life is like mopping 14 floors and the lobby as well as cleaning the three lifts and the windows at the corridor every day.

Yesterday morning, Cynthia and I met him inside the lift, cleaning.  His usual zest seemed diminished.  He told us that his last day will be the end of this month.  How come, we asked.  It appears that our condo committee has complained that the lifts are not cleaned to satisfactory.  There are fingerprints all over the mirror.  So he is not happy and he quits.  I was speechless.  I mean, people do stupid things inside the lift.  I have seen liters like empty bottles.  I have seen scratch marks made by sharp objects against the lift’s interior.  I have seen spits inside the lift.  Or puddle of water on the floor because people don’t bother to dry themselves after leaving the swimming pool.  Our lifts can never be cleaned to satisfactory because people are stupid and inconsiderate.  The lifts are as clean as they can be, taking into consideration of the unforeseeable yet not entirely unexpected circumstances.

I am going to write to our Management Office and sort this out.  That is the least I can do for our friend.

What a Stone Can Do

Recently, a car behind me hit the back of our car during a traffic jam.  That is an old story.  Merely two weeks after we got our car back from the workshop, I found myself return to the workshop.  I was so familiar with the procedure that at the reception area, I even knew the claim officer by his name.  Except, he was no longer with Honda.

I had no idea.  OK, looking back, my previous claim officer told me that he has worked in Honda for five long years.  He seemed knowledgeable, no doubt.  But I could see a lack of sparkle in his eyes.  Change of environment could do him good.  Secretly, I was happy for him.

Was it a stone?  Cynthia and I would not have known.  We were on our way to work when a small object hit the windscreen at 90km/h.  To be more factual, the actual relative speed of the stone was faster than this because it must be flying towards us when we hit it at 90km/h.  In this age of speed reading, people may think that I was speeding if I am totally scientific on this.

The first reaction when we saw the crack was, Oh no.  At that moment, I vaguely remember that the windscreen is insured so I was not too concerned.  It was the hassle that got me a bit down.  My second reaction was that I began to see mathematical formula flying inside my mind.  If force is mass times acceleration and I remember impact has something to do with force and area of contact.  Say if I could find out how much impact a windscreen can withstand before it cracks and I know the speed of the stone, I could work out the object’s mass, correct?  And potentially work out its size?

Curious mind knows no bound.

What About Retirement?

Recently, I am reviewing a book called Boundless Potential sent to me by the publisher McGraw-Hill.  Maybe because of its content, I keep thinking about retirement these days.  I start to doubt if our home today is retirement friendly.  It is going to be noisy because of the upcoming highway.  And it is in the middle of nowhere.  A car is highly useful.  But looking at the trend of the car prices, I am unsure if I can afford one when I am older.  Perhaps, Cynthia’s idea of moving to town is not that crazy at all.

When our government revised the retirement age upward, I remember some were not happy with the policy.  The first reaction would be: What, we have to postpone our retirement plan and work longer years?

Boundless Potential is an inspiring read (which I will share my view later once I finish with it).  It says we shouldn’t stop working just because we are old.  We shall continue to be active and to contribute.  Be happy, and stay alive.  Now that I think on it, a higher retirement age cap could in fact work for us.  We could still retire early if we wish to.  And if we wish to continue working – for whatever reason – we  can.

Keep Talking

Fans may prefer Pink Floyd‘s older pieces.  Professor Stephen Hawking’s audio samples found in the song Keep Talking haunts me till today.

For millions of years mankind lived just like animals.  Then something happened which unleashed the power of our imagination. We learned to talk.

I was in UK when what would have been Pink Floyd‘s last album The Division Bell was released.  It was a euphoric moment in the history of popular music.  Magazine articles ran pages over pages analyzing the music.  Bands don’t make this sort of quality music no more.  Not even comparable to what was left of a legendary band.  During the Division Bell era, the sole driving force behind the band was David Gilmour.  Pink Floyd in the nineties was like a fearless samurai who was blinded in one of his previous battles, left with one arm, but still stood tall against all those wannabes.

As Gilmour’s epic guitar lick contorted into a muffled human voice struggling to form words and talk, Hawking wraps the song up with two sentences.

It doesn’t have to be like this.  All we need to do is make sure we keep talking.