Parklane Pai-kia

The older we get, the more our memories fade. First we forget little details, then moments, and eventually even huge chunks of time. When I was around 21, I started some sort of journal, something I call my “I Remember… Book” in which I listed little bits of memories from as far back as I could remember. Every now and then if I remembered something, I’d add it to the list. Most of them were memories of the antics of my brothers and I as kids, like how we’d fling my Mom’s rotan (a thin but wicked strip of bamboo that she caned us with if we misbehaved) up onto the roof of our house. Quite often you’d hear my Mom yelling, “Si gin-na! Where did you hide the cane this time?!!”

Anyway, this post isn’t about my childhood memories, as I already have most of them jotted down in that journal somewhere in Singapore. Instead, here’s something from Ben’s ‘archives’. I may not get all the facts right since this is a second-hand account, so if anyone finds something wrong or really offensive, please do let me know.

Sometimes Ben recalls something from his past, not so much from early childhood but mainly memories from his ‘strayed’ adolescence, and happily goes on a long rant about it. Give him a couple more years and I’m quite sure he’ll forget more and more of these snippets of the past that he already vaguely remembers now.

Recently he told me about how he and his friends would go to Parklane every Saturday when they were teenagers… to just lepak or act cool or make a nuisance of themselves, I suppose. A whole group of about 20 of them would ride the double-deckered number 14 SBS bus from the East side of Singapore to the city and back. They would usually take up the entire top deck and… lepak, act cool, or make a nuisance of themselves lah. Back then, most of the buses weren’t air-conditioned yet, and this served these boys well since they could have the windows open, act cool, and make a nuisance of themselves some more.

The bus route would also take them past a particular house in Katong which always seemed to be having a ‘party’ on weekends. So they’d shout, “Oi, party bo chio!” (loosely translated to “got party, never invite”) It was only much later (in life) that they discovered this was a Sai Baba house of worship.

While waiting at bus stops, they also had this “sabo-routine” where all of them would stand in a line in front of the bus stop. As a bus came by, if one of them was standing where the bus door opened, he would be forced to dance in front of the bus. As fate would have it, the bus door would open in front of Cyril almost every time.

Around this same stage in their clueless teenage years, Ben and friends also picked up a Hokkien phrase from Desmond’s Mom. Apparently, she would sometimes be heard saying “Kam kio!”, which literally translates as “suck brinjal” in Hokkien. I guess we’ll have to check with Desmond if it was to be taken literally, or if it was just a figure of speech, like “holy shit” or like how my Mom and aunts always use the meaningless term, “ua-ko” (bowl-cake). But trust Ben, Desmond and guys to make use of this ‘colourful’ new-found term to their delight.

Sometimes, they’d hail taxis for no reason at all. The taxi would stop and then they’d say they didn’t want to take it. Or they’d mention absurd locations like “Uncle, Johor?” But the favourite joke on taxi drivers would be, “Uncle, ai kam kio?” (“uncle, wanna suck brinjal?”) The taxi driver would then say, “Ang Mo Kio?” and they’d say no and ask again, “Ai kam kio?”

So for our next trip back to Singapore, we have a short list of things to do:

1. visit ‘that’ house in Katong

2. ask Desmond’s Mom the real meaning of ‘kam kio’

3. get Cyril to grace us with a dance

Tour of Non-Duty

Planned to write something about my trip home after returning to Dubai but procrastinated till now. Well, better late than never. Before leaving for Singapore/PJ in June, I wrote a post about my "Dubai blues". Well, I made my month-long trip back, recovered, and am back in Dubai, good as new.

The first significant thing I did when back in Singapore was my trip out to the intertidal zone in Changi with Wildfilms, the second day I was home. Great way to start off my getaway. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't "getting away" from my husband. Just Dubai itself - its intolerable service standards, etc etc... the list just grows n grows.


Lots of new sights greeted me in Singapore, like the horrid "Wheel" that's almost done, the new Ikea, Giant and Courts in Tampines, Sheng Siong in Bedok, and VivoCity.


I spent about 10 days in PJ and 20 days in Singapore. My time in PJ was quality time with family and buddies. I think I've had enough Nescafe Ais to last me the rest of the year, as I was out at the mamak with Nat on most nights, sometimes joined by Sher Hui and Wye Li. Also managed to spend an afternoon in Bangsar with Jamie.

Sometimes I feel like a celebrity back home as my many "Ah Ee"s take turns to "chope" me for lunch appointments and such. It felt really nice, and of course, anything to do with makan is great!


Back in Singapore, I joined Wildfilms on a few more trips during low tide to the shore and a few islands. These were really splendid too - being close to nature again, and my conversations with like-minded individuals like Ria and Chay Hoon.

Earlier Wildfilms footage were shot on tape, so there are a few hundred tapes that need to be digitised, and a lepak "tai-tai" like me always comes in handy for nitty-gritty jobs like these. So I lugged back "Ziggy" (our pet name for one of the small handicams), 500gigs of hard disk, and four boxes of tapes to be converted into digital format. This should keep me happily busy till 2008 too!

I've discovered though, that there's a big difference between tai-tai and housewife. A tai-tai has a maid. I am a housewife.


Another eventful "must do" in Singapore was attending Jo and Leong's wedding dinner. I was pretty zonked out that day as I had spent the early morning out on Pulau Hantu, but the wedding dinner was a really refreshing change to the dreary grey of Dubai life.


Typical Chinese/Singaporean style - lots of red and cheery colours, as pictured here. When I'm really tired, my hands get really shaky, so I didn't take any pictures but have compiled a few here, taken by Mei Ling and the wedding photographer.


I was seated with Louis, Rabind and Wayne, and some intimidating-looking guys I've never met before. Felt pretty lost especially since I was half-awake and attending this as "Ben's wife". Introductions to people were like this, Hey, you know Ben? --- Fatty Ben? or Ben the Chef? --- Yea, this is his wife, Mrs Fatty Ben.


I must say, even though this was like, what... only the second time I've met Leong, and one might ask who I am to comment, I think he looked really, really happy. I hardly got to see or speak to Jo 'cos typical in all Chinese wedding dinners, the bride always kena change baju like a Hong Kong superstar at a concert. It was a beautiful wedding, and I'm sure, the happiest day of their lives.

One thing I sure didn't miss when back in Singapore... no, two things:
1. Being made to feel fat just cos I wasn't like all 'em skinny-ass skanks around.
2. Being told that I speak "very good English for a Malaysian".

I mean, what's up with people presuming that Malaysians can't speak English. If you sat in a foodcourt in Singapore, no, not even food court... If you were seated in a nice restaurant in Singapore, you'd notice that all the chatter around you is in Mandarin. Many Singaporeans think they speak "good" English just 'cos they begin each sentence with words like "Basically..." and try to sound eloquent by saying things like "forget a-bow-rit" and "am I right or am I right?"

First of all, there's no such thing as "good English". Learn to speak proper English, get your grammar, Ps n Qs right, before you go 'round questioning another's language proficiency based on nationality.

It's bloody annoying and such an insult when people ask, You're Malaysian? Are you sure? You speak such good English, I thought you're Singaporean. You studied in Singapore or overseas is it?

I'm Malaysian, I studied in Malaysia, I don't hold a degree, and I speak proper English. Lots of Malaysians do. Wake up....

Ok, back to happy stuff. What felt really good about my trip home was the amount of "me-time" I had. Ya, I know I don't work in Dubai so I have full access to "me-time" here too. But when I was in Singapore and PJ, I was a housewife on holiday!


No need to cook! No need to jaga the big baby! No need to worry about groceries. Hungry? Just walk out to the nearby kopitiam and be spoilt for choice. I didn't even have to make my own coffee. Just 80 cents gets me a nice cup of kopi pua sio. So shiok!


I met up with friends, mother-in-law, father-in-law. Mizan works at the i-Shop in Cineleisure, so he was one of the first few people I met and he even gave me a discount on the adapter for my Powerbook. I had a late lunch and coffee with Razmi just before he went off for National Service, and konlomee with Raena and Shorbs! Dinner with Ben's friends, as well as with my ex-colleagues from Crystal Wines.


I also met up with Peng a few times for kopi or makan. I told him I planned to ta-pau half a roast duck to bring back to Dubai for Ben, and he went ahead and bought it for me. Peng also introduced me to the latest drink fad, those awful cans of "Anything" or "Whatever"! And I finally met Brownie, his chow chow puppy!


All in all, it was a marvelous trip, and it was even nicer knowing that the end of the trip would signal my return home to Ben, so leaving didn't feel so bad. The housewife, refreshed and rejuvenated, is back on duty.

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.

Like A Fine Wine

My husband Ben loves durian. The last time we were back in Singapore, we ate durian till we felt like puking. I hesitate at first, then, I finally break the news to him.

YOUR UNCLE HAS A DURIAN ESTATE?!! OH, MAN! When can we go? When can we go?

On my recent trip back to PJ, my family made a trip to Port Dickson (PD), Seremban for a "family durian fest". My Mom's sister Gina (I call her "Dee Ee", meaning 2nd Aunt), is married to Uncle Johnny who owns a durian estate in PD. So one Saturday morning, my mom, brothers, sister-in-law, aunts, uncles, cousins and I squeeze into 3 cars, making the 1.5 hour trip to durian paradise.


Before heading to the estate, we visit Dee Ee's home in Pasir Panjang, a quaint little one-street town. There, we have chicken rice at a nearby coffee shop. Uncle Johnny takes care of everything, from Uncle KB's requests for 3 whole chickens for lunch, plus tau yu bak (braised pig's trotter) and two tables specially "reserved" in this small town kopitiam, just for us urbanites.

It's been a long time since I've had REAL homemade barley, like the type I used to get in Malacca. It reminds me of the old Ujong Pasir house where I spent most of my Chinese New Years and birthdays as a kid, cycling around the Portugese settlement, and the cold, refreshing homemade barley from our favourite kon lo mee shop. Of course, those came in plastic cups unlike this whopper here.

Barley, ungge lekke nalade

After lunch, the REAL feast begins!


I'm still trying to get used to the heat and humidity, so durian on a full stomach at high noon is a bit too much for me. Instead, I allow my mind to wander off as everyone eats to their hearts' fill (it's gotta be the heart 'cos how in the world could one's stomach take in anymore after THREE kampung chickens and tau yu bak).


My family makes sure they keep my cousin Paul busy, as he pries open durian after durian. Seriously, I lose count of how many durians he opens. Growing up half his life on the estate, Paul is a pro! Swift and unwavering, and I'm not just referring to the thirteen hungry hands reaching out for fruit.

Now to savour durian perfectly ripe and fresh from the estate takes some skill too. As one hand reaches out for the fruit, you've gotta keep your eyes set on the prize, choosing the juiciest and most golden yellow piece. The other hand has to remain in constant motion, chasing away flies that are trying hard to get a piece of the pie.


Then you've gotta keep a mental picture of where the bin is to throw the seed, keeping your eyes glued to the open fruit, while pretending to chase off a fly hovering over the fruit when in fact you're already "chope"-ing your next piece.

In between all this, sometimes you may find a few free seconds to lick your fingers and wipe the sweat off your brow, while engaging in conversation with others around you --- "Wah, shiok ah" --- "Ayo, so many flies!" --- "Ay Paul! This one man-in-the-net or the other one?"

Man in the net? That's your crème de la crème of the estate. The fruit that is so good that nets are placed all around the base of a particular tree, about 3 feet off the ground, to catch a falling fruit, leaving it... flawless.


Like a fine wine, Uncle Johnny describes the durian varieties and the perfect fruit - its strong bouquet, elegant mouthfeel, lingering aftertaste... And the estate, like any good vineyard, with its terroirs and susceptibility to bad weather or just plain bad luck. Like en primeur wines, some trees are even "booked" by durian purveyors or gourmands based on "vintage" predictions.

Besides helping out around the estate, Paul has occupied himself with harvesting "escargot". He leads us to the cement tanks that used to house "tin kai" - frogs bred for human consumption, like for frog leg porridge. But the frogs are gone, and in its place, hundreds of snails!


He points out the different tanks used for different stages in the snails' growth - those for juvenile snails, those just for breeding, and snails that are almost ready for the pot! Paul sells these escargot to vendors at the market or food vendors who use seafood for zhe cha (stir fry) dishes such as lala (mussels), siham (cockles), sotong kangkung (cuttlefish with morning glory) and ikan bakar (barbecued stingray).

Escargot eggs

Afterwards, we are given a walk-a-round to check out the "special" tv satellite dishes installed. One's "only" 3metres in diameter, and the 5metre one receives channels from Thailand, Taiwan and China!

Now if my Uncle KB can request for 3 whole chickens just for lunch, you can be assured that we didn't leave the estate empty handed either...


Chicken rice, tau yu bak, durians-to-go... Looks like Ben married into the right family : )

Seeing Stars

The 8th and 9th of May is our wedding anniversary. 8th and 9th, 'cos Benjamin and I were officially married at the Registrar of Marriages in Singapore on 8th May 2006, and then married in Assumption Church, PJ the following day.

Ben won a free night's stay at the Burj Al Arab from a lucky draw held at a senior chefs' party last year, so we celebrated our first anniversary a few days ago at the Hotel.

Inside view of the hotel floors from mezzanine, night, and day.

Burj Al Arab boasts that it's the only SEVEN-star all-suite hotel in the world, but the 6th and 7th stars are self-appropriated. So Ben and I thought, 7-star? Let's put their name to the test...

Check-in time is 3pm, and we are greeted at the entrance by Hanna, a personal guest services executive, whom we know.

The "white" part of the Hotel (the "billowing sail" part). Pictured on the right is the view of the lobby and mezzanine from above.

While waiting for Hanna to process our check-in, I look around the lobby, flanked on each side by floor-to-ceiling marine aquariums. There are two divers in the "tanks", feeding the fish. Ben says they are not contracted divers, but regular staff of the Hotel.

The walls on each floor is painted a different colour tone to create that rainbow-gradient effect.

Hanna escorts us to our suite on the 9th floor, and introduces us to the concierge. Every floor has a personal concierge, who is at the guests' beck and call 24 hours a day. Apart from the usual housekeeping personnel, there are also personal butlers should you wish to have things "done" for you.

The view of each floor from above, and the concierge desk on each floor.

We are upgraded from a "normal" suite to a panoramic suite, which is supposed to be about two and a half times the size of a "normal" one. Panoramic suites are located at the "corners" of the Hotel, two per level.

We have mentioned before that all suites are made up of two floors, and so the first thing that greets us as we enter the suite is the grand staircase from the first floor, up to the bedroom.


Ben n I spend the next few minutes taking pictures all over the suite. I skip and sashay from one end of the suite to the other, as Ben performs cartwheels and stunts.


The view to our left is Jumeirah Beach Hotel, and Madinat Jumeirah to the right. On the other side of the suite, the whole length of the Palm Jumeirah is visible on the horizon.


We are given fresh fruits (served on a silver platter, literally), dates, Arabic sweet and savoury tidbits, orange juice and a complimentary bottle of red wine.


Ben and I also enjoy the last piece of our wedding cake, saved from last year, frozen and brought over all the way from PJ. (From the lovely cake from Aunty Rita, not the ghastly, gaudy blue one).


A remote control works the TV, as well as the curtains. If someone rings the doorbell, a camera connected to the TV shows you who's at the door. Movie and Playstation DVDs are available from the concierge should a guest wish to have some "clean" in-suite fun.


Another TV is located on the second level, facing the infamous bed with the large mirror above it. This one's not the kinky revolving one though... That bed is only available in the Royal Suite.


The pillows are SUPER soft! I mean, really, seriously, super-duper soft. You feel as though you're lying on cotton candy as your head softly settles into a pillow of clouds...

The bathroom on the second floor is probably the most extravagant of all. One look at it and you go, Whoa...

All the toiletries are super-sized, free to use as you wish or to take home. We're talking full-sized bottles of Hermès perfumes, lotions, shampoos, shower gels, plus bath salts and bath effervescents... Even the men's razor isn't one of those cheapo disposable ones that one would have to pay for at a hotel in Taiwan. It's a Gillette Mach-whatever one!

So, many hotels have jacuzzi-equipped bathrooms... But here, we also have "power in the shower"! An additional 3 jets for the ultimate shower experience!


Ben and I head down to the beach before sunset. A buggy takes us to Majlis al Bahar, the cafe/bar by the beach. We walk towards Jumeirah Beach Hotel, and then back the other way towards Mina a'Salam (at Madinat Jumeirah).


We order some snacks and drinks which cost AED220.


Our dinner reservation at Al Mahara is at 10pm, and we are escorted to the waiting area for the "submarine" ride to the restaurant. After sitting in the "submarine" for about 10 minutes, we are informed to take the elevator instead 'cos the sub is out of order. We're told this happens quite often and just last week, a few guests were trapped in the sub when it broke down halfway.

The "submarine" seats about 8 people. It's supposed to be a "simulated submarine ride" but is actually just a tram of some sort.

We are seated next to the giant aquarium, and the restaurant seats about 70-80 guests.

Our table is the only one in the restaurant with two wine buckets, as we are served rosé champagne the minute we're seated, and have a bottle of Riesling too. I probably had only half a glass of each.

Darrell, the Chef de Cuisine, comes up to our table a few times to present a particular dish or just to chat, as the menu is specialised for us. Ben turns pale and looks at me wearily as Darrell describes one of the dishes... "Shark's fin broth, shark's fin springroll..."


The caviar dish is superb! And the amount of Beluga caviar we're served (30gms each) can pay for 2 return tickets back to Singapore!

Throughout dinner, Ben insists that the huge humphead wrasse is terrorising him, as it swims past slowly and stares at him with its big, bulging eyes.


The soup course, lobster bisque with cognac, kinda gets us hammered. The ratio of cognac to bisque is like 3:1. I still finish half of it 'cos you know how I love soup, but Ben is a gonner after a few spoonfuls. So that spoils the rest of our dinner 'cos our heads are pounding and we can no longer enjoy any more wine or champagne.


The palate cleanser before the main course is also laced with hard liquor, so after a few sips, Ben n I are both cross-eyed and seeing stars.

It really is a pity that we're both so full and mabuk by the time the main course is served 'cos it's really yummy. Turbot and foie gras... a REALLY huge piece of FG. I have to say though, I can't be a fine dining gourmand leh... I don't really like foie gras! I find it kinda yucky and "jelak". But paired with the turbot and sauce, it's really good. If only I could have "ta-pau"ed my leftovers, 'cos I must have wasted at least 80gms of super expensive FG there.

Ben brings me to the kitchen to meet a few of the guys and see where he works. After dinner, we're presented with a lovely chocolate mousse gateau, which we have to "ta-pau" as we're too full to even look at it. Boris, the manager, sits with us for a while after most of the guests have left, enjoying a glass of wine while talking about fine wines, terroirs, etc.

Not your ordinary carpark

After leaving the restaurant, we walk around the Hotel to take photos.


We get back to the suite at about 2am. The turndown service presents us with red roses, heart-shaped chocolates and a pair of souvenir face towels on the bed.


Ben K.O.s right after a shower. I find out that the super-soft pillows aren't that super after all 'cos Ben's drunken snores seem to vibrate through the clouds of Egyptian cotton and add to the pounding in my head. I manage to get just about an hour of sleep, and Ben n I are both up by about 6.00am, feeling really lousy.


We have our complimentary breakfast alfresco at Bab al Yam, and take more photos of the hotel.

Lobby and tiered-fountain

Check-out time is at 12noon, but we're both so sleepy and hungover that we leave the Hotel at about 10.30am.

Mezzanine level

Apart from the excess alcohol that killed our night and morning after, we still had a marvelous time, and were truly blown away by the Hotel.

Complimentary cake and bouquet of roses

Pampered with flowers, and goodies, and gifts, amidst luxurious and extravagant interiors... treated like royalty... Ben says it's gonna be hard to top this anniversary. And we both agree, they deserve their 6th and 7th stars.

More pics at Flickr or Multiply.