Monday, August 27, 2007

The red n white pack

Dubai n Singapore aren’t all that different, or perhaps very different, being that each have “qualities” unique to them. Ben n I have come up with a collection of images n things that we find “Uniquely Dubai”. I shan’t list them down here but just highlight a couple.

On my flight from SIN to DXB in July, the lack of video-on-demand got me flipping thru the in-flight magazine n duty free catalogue. When I was on the Duty Free allowances page, two countries stood out from the rest in the cigarettes category. Singapore is the only country that does not allow duty free cigarettes, with NIL boldly stated and a note mentioning a hefty fine plus probably other scary words like PROHIBITED.

While other countries allow 200-400 sticks, the UAE, as one-of-a-kind as Singapore, allows 10,000 sticks. Yes, TEN THOUSAND! No typical UAE typo error here. The odd thing is, following in Singapore’s footsteps, Dubai is trying to be a “smoke-free” city by 2008.


Apart from the ability for each passenger to bring in 50 cartons of Marlboro, Dubai displayed a different show of red n white recently. The 2nd NDC @ UAE was held last Friday at the Movenpick Hotel - the Singapore National Day Celebration in the UAE, organised by a dedicated group of Singaporeans, with support from the Consulate-General of the Republic of Singapore, IE Singapore, STB n many other sponsors.


Ok, time for a bit of flashback and intro to people.

I was informed of this event last month by Mabel n Chi Lin, whom I was introduced to by my friend Merey from Singapore. I met Merey when I was working at SRC some years ago n she was the Sports Manager there. We didn’t know each other that well n I think she tried to avoid me at most times ‘cos each time I bumped into her, I’d be reminding her of deadlines n chasing her for articles n photos for the Club’s newsletter. We lost touch after she left SRC n met again a few years later when I joined BWV. A few of us in the Reefwalk group organised a trip to Kota Tinggi, including Merey, her husband Eng Wan n son Reef.

Eng Wan was working in Doha last year, so on one of her visits to Doha, Merey stopped by for a short stay in Dubai with her friends Mabel n Chi Lin. Chi Lin, who works for IE Singapore, was posted to Dubai this year n Mabel joined him here in June. So that’s how I know Mabel n Chi Lin, and came to know about the NDC.

Ben n I invited Andrew n Arman along but unfortunately, they couldn’t make it since it was being held on a Friday, busy day for people in the F&B line. Andrew’s our chef friend from Singapore whom Ben n I knew from our days at Gourmet Cellar. He’s the Japanese chef at a Japengo outlet here.

Arman’s the Chef at a Noodle House outlet here. I met him when he first arrived in Dubai last December, back when we were living in Ewan Residences in ulu-land. We took the same shuttle bus to the nearby shops and he asked me for directions and found out that I was Malaysian/Singaporean n I discovered that Andrew was his smoking kaki since both their restaurants are located in the Madinat Jumeirah.

Ben invited Jac along, a HR Management Trainee at the Burj Al Arab. She’s the only other Singaporean working there.

Ben was excited about this event especially since I told him they’d be showing snippets from the National Day Parade. I remember how homesick he was last year, his first National Day away from home. So when I was back in Singapore in June/July, I searched the whole country for the Singapore flag to bring back to Dubai. EconMinimart, NTUC, Giant, Carrefour, souvenir shops, Community Centres… (flashback again).


Whether it's in town or the suburbs, none of the shops are selling the flag. The only red n white I see is the latest lian-trend - mini white shorts n ugly red patent PVC stilletos or wedges. It's my last day in Singapore, and still no flag.

I start calling all the Community Centres in the East side, and finally one in Tampines says, Yes, we have the flag! Two dollars only. So I rush over, and when I ask the lady at the counter about the flag, she says, There, this one! and points at a mini-flag that drivers clip to their car’s radio aerial.

No, aunty, I want the big flag, the one to hang on balcony one. Aiya, that one don’t have yet. Still early, RC haven’t sent to us. A second aunty joins in the conversation n I explain that I live in Dubai n will be leaving Singapore in a few hours n my patriotic husband gets homesick during National Day, etc.

Both aunties look so sympathetic n start calling the various RCs, CCs, GRCs, and what nots for me. Sorry, girl. Don’t have leh. You try NTUC or not? Ya, also don’t have. Ayo… sorry lah.

Dejected, I leave the CC and walk about, stopping at any household n convenience store I pass. I walk till I reach “Afghanistan” and stop at a household supplies shop there. Aunty, got Singapore flag or not? The big one for balcony. You wait ah, I check.

She goes to the back of her shop that sells everything, from melamine kitchenware to fishing nets, PVC pipes to gas stoves. Aunty is gone for a really long time, and finally, she emerges from the chaos of hanging pots, pans n bubble-wrap with the Singapore flag! Ah, girl, si-kor-pwa.

So this $4.50 piece of red and white polyester follows me all the way back to the UAE, and on 8th August, is hung proudly in our hall. I didn’t dare hang it on the balcony ‘cos people here can be quite ignorant n mistake it for a communist banner.


So back to the National Day celebration here. Tickets were sold at only 42 Dirhams (Singaporeans will know why 42), which was really, really cheap ‘cos a KFC meal for two here already costs at least 45 Dirhams. The dresscode for this event was smart-casual but I was told quite a lot of people would come dressed to the nines, gowns, gloves n all.

The ballroom n foyer is already bustling with guests when we arrive at 6.15pm – very early by Singapore standards since the time stated was 6pm, meaning most people would arrive at around 7.30 - 8.00, especially if it was a Singaporean wedding dinner.


Ben, Jac n I stand by the side, feeling awkwardly out of place. Jac comments that everyone here is “so old” and this looks like a function that her dad would attend. So like typical Singaporeans, we stand there commenting on what people are wearing, saying, doing, and I’m pretty sure some of them were doing the same too.

We probably stick out like sore thumbs as a man named Adrian approaches us to break the ice. He informs us that they are expecting at least 500 pax this evening. We can tell he’s with the organising committee from the huge orchid pinned on his lapel.

Only an exclusive few in the crowd don the national flower, including a lady who looks like she could be a descendant of Miss Joaquim herself, in her shiny lilac kebaya.

With Asia Pacific Breweries being one of the sponsors, uncles feel right at home with the free-flow of Tiger beer. Only thing missing is ice cubes, the Tiger aunty or ah huay, and live screening of a match.

Soon, guests are ushered into the ballroom to await the arrival of the Consular-General, Mr Dileep Nair. Adrian, also emcee for the night, leads us in a few cheers. Yup, the crowd is asked to shout “Hallo, Singapore!” and “Happy Birthday, Singapore”. One uncle seems to have had one Tiger too many as he bellows, “Hallo, Sing-GABURRRP-pore!”


Just when I feel my goosebumps are gonna burst out from my skin, we are invited to sing Happy Birthday to Singapore as a huge cake resembling the flag is wheeled out. We also recite the Singapore pledge and sing the national anthem. I’m tempted to shout “Malaysia Boleh!!” at the end of the Majulah Singapura, just to see if I’d get thrown out :p


Finally, it’s time to eat! We’re hoping to get good ol’ Singapore food, but the only thing resembling dishes from home are the names of some of the dishes – rendang, gado-gado, goreng pisang, Hainanese chicken rice, assam fish… But all cannot make it lah. Ben and Jac join the extremely long queue of suckers for the chicken rice, only to find that it’s plain white rice with chicken that looks like it’s been boiled.


I meet Mabel n Chi Lin, and we’re introduced to a few of their friends. We also meet Eng Wan, who moved to Dubai just last month, and chat with him for a while.

The highlight for the night, for Ben, is the 2007 NDP screening. Unfortunately, they only screen the first 15 minutes as the screens are used to display winning lucky draw numbers the rest of the night. Jac hopes to win the Creative mp3 player while Ben n I eye the LCD flatscreen TV.

Unfortunately, we leave only with small goodie bags. One has a Tiger beermug, and the other bag doesn’t but has a soft-toy of a red crab, the Singapore Chilli Crab. And the other “goodies” are brochures, an SIA paperbag n cheapo-made-in-China keychain n calculator.

Of course, it’s typically Singaporean to complain that this n that cannot make it lah, blah blah. As much as we poke fun at events like these or the people who attend them, I always say I’m almost-Singaporean because of how much I’ve assimilated into the culture n lifestyle there. I remember how I got all teary-eyed when I watched my first NDP on TV. The crowd, a sea of red n white, waving their little red n white flags about, and singing proudly in unison as the big red n white flies past overhead.

I know some people say the NDP is the biggest PR event in Singapore, propaganda at its finest. I say, who cares, it works. The sense of unity, pride and passion, expressed through the reaction of the spectators is brilliant. And I still get a little teary-eyed now when I watch the NDP flypast n fireworks each year.

So yesterday Ben n I had to settle for watching the 2007 NDP webcast on a tiny 480x360 pixel window online. Although lacking authentic Singapore food and the full screening of the NDP, the NDC @ UAE event was still enjoyable. Ben n I got to see the macam-macam of the Singaporean community in Dubai - a couple of bengs and lians here n there, typical aunties and uncles, SPG also got!

And of course, those who believe their sense of fashion isn’t just restricted to Orchard Road.


Happy Belated National Day to all Singaporeans, and Happy Merdeka to the rest!

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

While My Guitar Gently Sweeps

I remember as kids, my brothers and I would pretend to be all sorts of people or legends. Armed with some raffia string as rope, and his schoolbag as haversack, Jeremy would take on the role of brave adventurer, dragging us younger ones around the garden on exploratory trails and making feeble attempts at climbing the rambutan tree. Another time, he decided to be a deejay and assigned Andrew and I as back-up chorus while he came up with corny intros and jingles to songs – all recorded on a cassette like an actual demo tape. And of course, which kid never dreamt of being a rock superstar?

All you needed was props or just a wild imagination. We had three choices:
1. air guitar
2. badminton or tennis racket
3. broom
Mine was usually the latter since it’s more likely you’d find me daydreaming while doing household chores, and I was never really the sporty type. Lidi brooms served best cos you could actually strum ‘em lidi sticks.

I’m turning thirty soon, very soon, yet I feel I never really left my crazy, clueless adolescent days behind. Either that or I’m suffering from a very early onset of the mid-age crisis. I wanna be a rock-guitar-legend! The next Ratu Rock. Malaysia’s answer to Avril Lavigne.

I pathetically whined to Ben about how, growing up, I was forced to take piano lessons just cos I was a girl, when it was glaringly evident that I had such bad sense of coordination that I couldn’t even get my fingers to play Chopsticks. My parents should have realised that I wasn’t your typical princess in a pink tutu.

Instead of ballet lessons, I took Taekwondo. Instead of masak-masak, I had to engage in combat and guerrilla tactics with my brothers and the Shori boys, armed with mighty ping pong bats. After eight whole years of torturous piano lessons (not just for me but the teachers), I was still only in Grade 4! My dad finally said these exact words, Getting you to play even one song on the piano is like FLOGGING A DEAD HORSE.

Years went by and my brothers went for guitar lessons. I couldn't cos I had wasted eight good years on an instrument I could never conquer. So now I just play the radio.

I remember how I used to sit in my brothers’ room and listen and watch in envy as Jeremy showed off his guitar skills. He even taught me to strum a few chords, the basic chords for Every Rose Has Its Thorn. But that’s as far as my “guitar-rocker-dreams” went. Then Andrew got an electric guitar. Man! Lagi jealous.

The worst part is, I hardly ever see him pick it up. So it just sits there in the room, all glossy and black and white, next to the amp that collects just as much dust. He’s got guitar tabs of some of the best rock songs all over the place, but I’ve never once heard him really goreng the guitar. Sometimes I’d annoy him and go, Hey Drew, play the intro to Stairway to Heaven lah. . . Just once lah. . . But he wouldn’t budge. Sigh.

Some of the sexiest things I’ve ever heard are from a guitar (No, the guitar doesn’t speak to me… I’m not that corny). I’m not talking about so-called romantic guitar scores like Extreme’s More Than Words or something similar from Firehouse.

I mean REAL sexy. All the strumming, picking, bending, sliding, muting, inversions, distortion… The power goreng bits from Metallica’s One and Fade to Black. U2’s Without or Without You and Mysterious Ways. The intros to The Freshmen, One Last Breath, The Reason. . . Songs like Creep, Glycerine, Come As You Are. . . Lots of stuff from Deep Purple. . .

So as some of you dream of being rich or successful or thin or popular, you’ll find me lost in the clouds playing some of the best guitar riffs ever heard.

On air guitar or broom, of course.