Little red dot among the white

Funny how it is when you watch movies like The Last of the Mohicans, or The Mission, you think this kinda stuff only happened back then, or happens only in the furthest and most remote part of the Amazon or whatever. You know, like, white man come, take everything. Or even in movies like Braveheart or 300, where a bigger or more developed nation tries to conquer a smaller one. You know, like, they can take our lives, but they can never take away, our FREEDOM...

This kinda shit still happens now man. Right before our eyes. I guess that's why movies like these, of legends or folklore, are still so relevant today. Call it what you want - the representation of masculinity re-presented, hegemony at its sneakiest, or simply, escapism for the man of today (and perhaps a little voyeurism for us girls!).

We watched 300 at the cinema again last week. Guess it's one of the only movies we'd be willing to pay 30 Dirhams to go watch.

If Ben's life in Dubai was a movie, he'd be the victim, left to fend for himself among all the angmoh aggressors. Poor dude from the tiny island country in the Far East has no chance against this army of white dudes sitting high up on their pedestals. So we always root for the underdog right? I would of course... he's my husband.

Many find it extremely difficult to accept that a 28-year old "Asian" is a Sous Chef at such a fine establishment. Especially the mat sallehs. Ben has a mat salleh colleague who's terribly threatened by Ben's presence, and goes beyond what can be deemed "healthy competition" to get ahead. He takes credit for Ben's work all the time. I told my parents once that Ben cooked for Michael Schumacher, Tiger Woods, Laurence Fishburne, etc. They asked me excitedly, so did he get to meet them? Well, if you have someone famous dining in your restaurant, would you get the coloured guy to go out and speak to them, or one of your own white guys?

VIPs and special guests have the liberty of requesting a special menu instead of ordering from the ala carte menu. So it usually has to be something that really wows them. This gives the Chef de Cuisine and Sous Chefs a chance to get creative. The boys in the kitchen are all too familiar with what happens when a special VIP menu is requested. When I say "boys", I mean the junior chefs and cooks. One of them says to Ben, "What's new? You - work, work, work, plan special menu, do special menu... Then white guy goes out, nods his head and says, Yes thank you, I did it."

On one occasion when Ben planned this really 'power' menu for some VIPs, the CDC insisted that Ben must go out and meet them before the meal was over. After the CDC left, and while Ben was busy with other orders, etc, guess who went out to take credit for Ben's work, as usual. Yup, there he was, the "green-eyed gwailo", nodding his head, Yes thank you, yes thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed the meal...

One of the boys now calls "green eyes" by another name, "Tekele". He told Ben of the legend of King Tekele from Sri Lanka. King Tekele would walk about his country, see a statue or sculpture that he liked, and ask who the sculptor was. The sculptor would then be thrown in jail, his name erased from his creation, replaced with Tekele's name. So now, Sri Lankan boy constantly warns Ben, "Don't let Tekele see this" or "Don't let Tekele learn how you created that".

After a rather lengthy discussion with me (Ben would call it a "lecture"), Ben has been a bit more assertive when it's time to meet guests or take credit for his work. Of course it doesn't help that the restaurant managers are angmoh and racist too. So they usually just go straight to the angmoh chef and tell him that the customers wanna meet the Chef. But Ben has had more opportunities to meet guests recently, which makes Tekele feel even more threatened.

Guests are usually surprised when they meet Ben. Oh, you're so young! Where are you from? Etc etc. But at least at the end of each conversation, they would usually say something like, "I'll remember this. I'll remember the young chef from Singapore who cooked this amazing meal for us".

Perhaps this is what happens to all underdogs. They don't go to war with victory as their goal, but because it's the right thing to do. They don't always win the battle, but will always be remembered for what they stand for.

When is enough ENOUGH?

The newspapers in Dubai are always full of typo errors, all the time. So when I read this article “More sharks than estimated killed for fin soup” in the Khaleej Times (October 28, 2006), I wasn’t sure if they got their figures right. Firstly it states that "up to four times more sharks than previously thought are being slaughtered to fill the increasing demand for shark fin soup".

According to this article, it’s estimated that anually, between 26 MILLION – 73 MILLION SHARKS, weighing up to 2.29 MILLION TONNES, are killed for their fins.

According to the Shark Alliance, sharks are among the ocean’s most threatened animals due to overfishing, and because they grow slowly, mature late and produce few young.

There are so many causes to fight for – the environment, poverty, AIDS, pink ribbon, yellow ribbon, blue this and green that… Even if we narrow it down to just marine conservation, there are still so many areas that need our attention. So many diferrent sea creatures and organisms and the ocean itself, needing a human voice to fight their cause.

We need more voices to speak up against pollution in our waters caused by dredging, reclamation, etc. Small voices, speaking up to corporate big wigs. Hard luck, but it’s a start.

We need more volunteers to help create awareness and educate the public about conserving our environment before it’s too late. To realise that serious damage has been done, and is still being done, and we won’t have anything left to conserve if we continue being selfish, taking from nature till there’s no more.

All these little voices that cry out, all these little hands that try to make a difference… Is anyone taking notice? Well some of us think, it’s small, but it’s a start. If you can influence one person out of ten, to stop collecting seashells or to say no to shark’s fin soup, it’s a start. You’ve made a difference.

But I say, it’s not enough. There’s a Malay saying that goes, “Sedikit-sedikit, lama-lama menjadi bukit” meaning, bit by bit, day by day, it will make a difference. But it’s not enough. There’s too little good being done to counter the bad. It’s like 1% conservation versus 99% destruction. We are taking too much, too soon, giving too little, too late.

We have organisations all over Singapore, and all over the world, fighting for all sorts of rights and causes. Blue Water Volunteers, Green Volunteers Network, Shark Alliance, UNESCO, Greenpeace… It’s not enough. We need more volunteers, plus support from the government and the media, to educate the masses.

Volunteering for a good cause is not easy in Singapore. Unless you are backed by big corporations or the government, with big funds, able to carry out big charity events filled with big celebrities. This is how you reach out to the masses, not bit by bit, day by day. How many times have you seen features on TV about dialysis, breast cancer, the yellow ribbon project, or even about dengue? Out of the millions who watch TV, how many take notice and make a difference? Now compare that with the difference volunteers make without much help from the media. It’s not much. It’s not enough.

The answer lies with the people. The future of Singapore’s environment lies with Singaporeans. Singaporeans who are ignorant or just plain selfish. The government, through the media, tells the people what they want to hear, or what they think they should hear. For example, The Yellow Ribbon Project. It’s a good cause, but what makes it more important than any of the other causes that don’t get airtime? Why no public awareness campaigns about the effects of dredging in Singapore waters? Why no campaigns against the sale of shark’s fin soup in restaurants throughout Singapore?

With campaigns like The Yellow Ribbon Project, the government wants the people to believe that everyone deserves a second chance, and eventually, Singaporeans will believe that the government is one that cares for them, giving everyone equal opportunity. So the selfish or ignorant Singaporean thinks, the government is working for me. So the people voice their concerns to the government, who will indeed help them. They complain about the hike in bus fares, MRT fares, taxi fares, complain that there’s no sheltered walkway at their HDB estate, complain, complain, complain. All about how the government can better improve the standard of living in Singapore.

Who’s gonna be crazy enough to go to his MP and say, “Mister MP Sir, we don’t mind paying more for MRT fares if this means it will make Singapore a cleaner place to live and breathe in.”

Or “Mister MP Sir, Singapore should say No to the import of shark’s fin because I’d rather have my future grandchildren visit Sentosa to see real sharks than to look at pictures of extinct sharks in history books”.

Your everyday selfish and ignorant Singaporean isn’t gonna do that.

It’s not easy for small groups of volunteers to reach out to the rest of selfish Singapore or the world. So do we go to the top? Do we speak to restaurant owners and show them horrid pictures of finned sharks left to bleed to death at the bottom of the ocean? [Read about ‘finning’ below] Do we hope it tickles their conscience that they have the blood of all these dead sharks on their hands just for a few bowls of soup?

That’s not gonna work either ‘cos the selfish and ignorant Singaporean is gonna walk in to that restaurant, look at the menu, and then complain to the manager and all his friends and maybe even Mister MP that “this restaurant supposed to be high class one… but got no shark’s fin leh”.

People demand, companies supply, the industry thrives, and another plant or animal is added to the endangered or extinct list.

And this is just the Shark Fin Cause. There are still so many other marine creatures, terrestrial animals, plants, trees, the air, the land, the ocean… all asking us to think less about our own selves, and to think about humanity and Earth as a whole. Just look at Earth’s timeline, from the Pre-Cambrian period, 3800 million years ago till now.

Life on Earth began in the Ocean. Sea sponges, sea lilies and corals existed since the Pre-Cambrian and Cambrian periods, more than 500 million years ago. From 245 million to 65 million years ago, dinosaurs walked the earth. 60 million years ago, Earth was flora and fauna paradise, with all sorts of plants and flowers, creatures big and small, thriving in a beautiful world.

Then came the time of man, just 200,000 years ago. In the few years that man has walked the earth, we have managed to wipe out most of what was naturally beautiful on Earth.

We are our worst enemy with an unquenchable appetite for destruction. Even creatures as big as dinosaurs could only have been wiped out by something huge like a giant meteorite or the Ice Age. With our greedy hands, narrow minds and selfish beings, we have resided on this beautiful planet for less than a day if compared to the BILLIONS of years the Earth has survived. And yet we have managed to cause so much destruction.

Some of us are doing something. But it’s not enough. The rest of us go through life like it’s one big buffet or warehouse sale, taking as much as we can, as quickly as possible, but it’s never enough.

26 to 73 MILLION sharks are killed annually for their fins. Do we really need that much soup to satisfy our appetite?

The Shark Fin Trade
Shark fishing is condoned because sharks are an important source of protein in certain parts of the world. However, it is the high value and demand for fins that endangers sharks, when finning is practised.

‘Finning’ refers to the practice of cutting off only the shark fins, usually while the sharks are still alive. Shark meat is too low in value so the sharks are thrown back into the ocean to conserve space on a fishing vessel. The fin-less sharks then drown or bleed to death. Divers have discovered hundreds of dead finned sharks at the bottom of the ocean in massive shark graveyards.

I love soups – Asian, Western, light, creamy… and I used to enjoy shark fin soup too, till I read an article in Fins magazine and saw pictures of the shark graveyards. Shark fin only provides gelatinous bulk in shark fin soup as it is tasteless. So if it’s the taste of shark fin soup that you enjoy, it’s actually just chicken or some sort of ‘superior’ stock.

Although shark fin is considered by the Chinese as a tonic, it has little nutritional value, and may even be harmful over the long term as shark fins contain high levels of mercury.

If you’re planning a Chinese banquet dinner, like say, for a wedding, please look at the pictures and think twice before planning the menu. Relatives can bitch all they want about not getting shark fin soup, but at least you’ll know that on this beautiful day, you’ve made a difference and saved a shark or two.

The Doha-Dubai Derrama

Ben n I took a Qatar Airways flight back to Dubai from Singapore, via Doha on 12th March. We left Singapore at 6.35am (GMT +8) and arrived in Doha at 10.15am (GMT +3). We discovered that our connecting flight to Dubai was delayed, from 1.30pm to 8.00pm.

The guy at the Transfer Counter said that the delay was due to airport closure in Dubai because of a “crash landing” on the runway. Eerie images of the SQ6 wreckage flashed through my mind, but we found out later that the accident wasn’t as serious as the ground staff portrayed it to be.

I asked if Qatar Airways would divert the flight to Sharjah Airport, which is just a 30-minute drive from Dubai, ‘cos it didn’t make sense that we had to wait 10 hours for a 45 minute flight. However, the ground staff could only say “No, it’s not possible” or “I don’t know”.

I worried about all the frozen homemade kaya and sambal haybee left in cargo in some hangar or worse, the tarmac…

So Qatar Airways put the stranded passengers up in a nearby hotel, and lunch at the hotel was paid for too. We managed to get a nice afternoon nap, then took the shuttle bus back to Doha airport. The bus from the hotel to the airport was delayed for 20 minutes because one of the passengers made a call from his hotel room and didn’t have Qatari Riyal to pay for it. He needed 82 Riyal, so a few people from the bus helped to chip in to expedite his check out.

Airports in the Middle East are quite a mess with not just long queues at Immigration, but Immigration staff who take forever to clear each passenger. And bags are scanned at 3 to 4 different points, passport and boarding passes checked about 3 or 4 times too. Very ‘leceh’.

At the Immigration counter in Doha Airport, I was in the “Ladies’ Inspection” queue and noticed that a few angmoh men and an Arab man with his family were also in the queue. Because it was a shorter queue, I asked Ben to join me. However, the guy who was behind me in the line got aggressive when Ben came over.

He was like “Hey! There’s a queue here and I have a flight to catch!” and I said, “My husband and I are travelling together” and he was like, "So?!! You can bloody well move to the back then!" Ben was not in the mood to argue ‘cos he felt we were in the wrong, so I moved back behind this angmoh a**hole. Just ONE spot behind him. Duh…

Wa lau… wtf… Do you know who he was? He was the same guy that delayed the bus! He made 19 people wait 20 minutes for him, and strangers helped him pay 82 Riyal for his bloody phonecall (that’s about 80 Ringgit!). And now, just moving one place behind in a queue was a big deal? We’re all on the same flight, you bloody ungrateful moron!

I just kept silent and didn’t argue with him. “Budi baik dikenang baik. Budi jahat dibalas jahat.” What goes around, comes around.

Here’s a picture of him, rushing to join the crowd at the flight gate.


We waited another 3 hours till we finally left Doha. When we arrived in Dubai, clearance at Immigration took over an hour!

Dubai may boast that it has a huge airport, but it’s just that. Huge. Passengers have to walk for miles to get from their gates to Immigration, but the airport is chaotic at Immigration and at the departure & arrival areas.

You find you have to walk from one end of the airport to the other, only to be told that your gate has been changed, so you proceed to the new gate, rush to get in queue, for a bus that will bring you to a remote parking bay far, far away. Size doesn’t matter if you have only ONE runway and no aerobridges! Duh…

At the Immigration counters in Dubai airport, the ugliness of a few Caucasian men showed. First, there was of course the same guy who told me off. He was probably really ticked off that this little insignificant ‘oriental girl’ spoke back. And there he was in Dubai, pushing his way around, cutting queues to get ahead at Immigration.

When an Immigration officer opened up a new queue, all these lemming-like morons ran for it. Among them was another Caucasian man, who bumped into an Indian man. He started swearing at the Indian man, who let him get ahead of him. But ugly angmoh man was not happy and continued pushing and swearing, swinging his luggage at the Indian man. The Indian guy asked him to relax, and another Indian guy tried to break it up between them.

Later, in another queue, another Caucasian man started cussing the Pakistani guy in front of him. Apparently, when it was the Pakistani guy’s turn to proceed to the counter, someone from another line jumped the queue. So the Caucasian man got pissed off, “Hey! What the @#$%!! You’re just gonna let that guy get ahead? So we’re all just gonna stand here all night? Why the %$#@ are you just standing there? Aren’t you gonna move… blah blah blah”. The Pakistani dude just ignored him.

In a region where Caucasian expats are so highly paid and ‘kow-tow-ed’ and Asians are treated as lower class, you can really see how ugly class-conscious people can become. It’s more subtle in Singapore, where you sometimes see customers ordering waiters or service staff around like they owe them a living. Be nice lah. Waiters may wait on you ‘cos they need to earn a living, but they’re not inferior, and not slaves. Good manners usually begets good service… unless the waitress is having PMS or something.

Ben n I get home at around 1.00am (5.00am Singapore/KL time), more than 24 hours after checking-in for our flight the morning before. So much for hoping that our return to Dubai would be a smooth transition after such a nice break back home. But NO… The Middle East once again had to prove how different they are from the rest of the world. At least I’ve learnt a lesson or two...

1. To be civilised doesn’t depend on where you come from. You may come from the most developed or richest nation in the world, but you’re uncivilised once you think that you’re the biggest fish in the sea.

2. We all have the same fate at the end of the road, so why turn ugly just to get ahead? Life is beautiful if only we took the time to appreciate the little things that really matter.

3. And next time, we’re flying Singapore Airlines.

What Time Is It?

Just remembered something funny Louis pointed out on the old Singapore $2 note. The four main races in Singapore were portrayed on the note. I can’t remember exactly what they were, but it was something like the Chinese with the lion dance, Malays with kompangs or smtg, Indians also doing something stereotypically cultural, and then, the Eurasians… What were the Eurasians doing? They were holding balloons.

What did Eurasians holding balloons mean? Life’s a party for them huh… What would have been a better way to depict them? Maybe have my mother-in-law making Sheperd’s Pie in front of a Christmas Tree while singing the “jingly nona” song? :o) It’s difficult to be the ‘lain-lain’ of Singapore n Malaysia I suppose. Not having a distinct cultural background… part Asian, part Portugese, part Dutch, part Mat Salleh…

But then again, it’s not easy being a Singaporean or Malaysian outside of South East Asia. Ben says we’re really ‘lost’ here in Dubai. The Pakistanis think we’re Chinese nationals, the Chinese nationals think we’re Filipino, the Filipinos think we’re Thai, the angmohs call anyone ‘yellow’ an Oriental, and the locals… well, we’re just the ‘golongan hamba’ along with every Chinese, Filipino, Indian, Pakistani, etc who come here to work.

Chinese and Indians have cuisines that are uniquely theirs, and what do we have? Ice kacang. Satay bihun. Red mi goreng.

It’s interesting to study a particular country’s culinary history and influences, apart from geography. Confucius emphasised the art of cooking and enjoyment of life, establishing culinary standards and proper table etiquette. And by fusing these beliefs, the Chinese dine with the mantra that food and friends are inseparable. And that’s how we have communal dining to this day. Taoism however was concerned with the search for longevity and nourishment of the body, studying the medicinal properties in foods. Hence, the liberal use of herbs in Chinese cooking and toasts to long life, good health, etc at dinner parties or the long list of good wishes my fifth aunt makes when we do the Chinese New Year ‘lo hei’.

In Singapore cuisine, there’s always the chicken n egg argument about whether a dish is actually Malaysian or “uniquely Singapore”. I guess if we were to make Singapore’s culinary history interesting, we can’t mention too much about how everything is borrowed from Malay, Indian, Chinese n Portugese cuisines, but that it’s a unique ‘rojak’ of all the above.

And the national drink isn’t that gross stuff from the bottle that you mix with pineapple juice or whatever. How many uncles do you see at a coffee shop ordering Singapore Sling? Singapore is the Lion City. And our national drink is TIGER beer (the Thais stole our Singha). The national sport is played at Singapore Pools.

Perhaps we could make a special paste of durian and ikan bilis... call it tapenade esplanade. By the way, we all know Eight Wonder’s Harry’s Island isn’t really named after some fictional character… So let’s have Roti Harry, cos we still don’t know who John is. Like saying grace before a meal, let every uncle, aunty n child in every restaurant in Singapore shout, what time is it?

Time for some Roti Harry, Chil-LEE Crab and Stamford Waffles!

Size is everything

Dubai's big on everything. Big malls. Big cars. Big spenders. Even the makan stuff is huge. That's not a baguette, it's a masala dosai!

So when it comes to their lucky draw contests, you can imagine how big the prizes are too. Of course one would also need to spend big money to be able to enter any of the big draws here.

The annual 45-day Dubai Shopping Festival started a month back, and with it, mega raffle and lucky draws. Now we're not talking grand prizes such as "A trip for 2 to New York" or "$10,000". No, no. We're talking HUGE-ass prizes. And on a daily basis.

There's the Daily Lexus Mega Raffle - daily prize of 2 Lexus cars PLUS AED100,000, and the Daily Gold Raffle - daily prize of 1 kg of gold. So that's 45 KILOS of gold, 90 Lexus cars and AED4.5 million they're giving away. However, these raffle draws aren't exactly like Toto where you can spend as little as $2 for a chance at hitting the jackpot. Each raffle ticket costs about AED200.

Then there are lucky draws organised by shopping malls and other companies...... "10 winners x AED100,000 each in fortnightly draw"...... "Gold phones worth AED 1 million to be won"...... "AED50,000 in cash + 50,000 in shopping vouchers"......

Virgin Records has a small but interesting draw - buy 2 "Front Row" DVDs, stand a chance to win your height in DVDs. So even if you're kinda short like me, that still makes up a 158cm tower of DVDs!

And you can certainly forget about "cheapo" prizes like a Camry. Think BIG. Like Dubai Duty Free. They're giving away AED1 million in one raffle draw, and luxury cars in another, like this Lamborghini here.

One little, two little, three little……

I remember reading an article a few years back about the Indian diaspora, and thinking ya, Indians are EVERYWHERE! A significant percentage of the Malaysia and Singapore population is made up of Indians, but of course, these are Indians whose ancestors had come to Malaya a long, long time ago. More recently though, you get lots of Indian nationals in the region… y’know, like the I.T. guys you see at work who hang out in the corner sipping tea and chatting. Then you go to London, they’re there! Amsterdam, there! New York, there!

When I was training at SIA, there were just 6 of us girls from Malaysia, 1 girl from Indonesia, and the rest (like about 20 of them) were from India. I have nothing against Indians of course. Our instructor actually made me some sort of Chinese-Indian liaison ‘cos there was hissing and scratching between the Indian and Chinese girls from Day One. The Indian girls kept saying we spoke funny and made fun of the way we said “lah”, “aiya” and “can, can”. They believed they did not have an accent ‘cos they spoke “Queen’s English”. The Chinese girls kept complaining that the Indian girls were so ‘how lian’ and ‘sombong’. To make things worse, all of us, new to Singapore, had no idea what the heck people meant when they mentioned “P.I.E., E.C.P., C.B.D.” and how to pronounce Tampines without sounding vulgar.

Anyway, back to Indians. I think it was my brother Jeremy who mentioned before that we seem to find really good friends in Indians. My grandfather’s best friend was an Indian. My dad has some really good Indian friends whom he’s known since his university days. My brothers have some pretty close buddies who are Indian too. And me, well, let’s just say I’m so un-Chinese that I actually respond if someone on the street shouts “Hey, macha!” You can thank my INDIAN friend, Jamie for that. You can also thank the ‘mats’ back home for that since I especially don’t respond to “Ah Moi”.

For my brothers and I, I guess a big reason why we have as many Indian, Malay, Eurasian and ‘lain-lain’ friends as Chinese ones is probably ‘cos we don’t speak Chinese! So in school, we either hung out with the non-Chinese or other un-Chinese Chinese like us. My brother, Andrew, is so ‘angmoh-fied’ that when he was young, he’d fill in “English” under the “Race” field in forms.

Now, here in Dubai, Indians everywhere too. My first few ‘friends’ in Dubai are from India. Ben laughs each time I say “my friend” ‘cos they’re actually the bus drivers lah. First there was the small, short guy who drove the shuttle from Ewan to the nearby shops. Actually, he’s from Nepal. I guess the drivers see me so often ‘cos I’m always at home, taking the same shuttle every other day, and not many people take the shuttle in the afternoons. So after a while, my Nepalese ‘friend’ recognises me and waves or nods when he sees me. Ben thinks it’s hilarious how we nod to each other like, “Ay, macha…” Anyway, my Nepalese friend disappeared one day and was replaced with a different driver, from Bangalore. He’s my new ‘friend’ now and we nod n wave too! Sometimes we chat – about casual stuff… like the ‘veather’.

Guide to the friendly nod n wave:
Nod head upwards = “Ay”.
Return with 2 nods, pausing between each nod = “Ay. Whazzup”.
Tilt head left, then right, followed by nod = “Ok lah. You?”
Tilt head left, then right, then wave.
(Note #1: Quick tilt = Good. Normal tilt = Ok. Slow tilt = So, so lah)
(Note #2: If you’re too lazy to nod, raising your eyebrows works too)

My other friend is one of the drivers on the Ewan-Gardens route. His name’s Subriano and he’s from Goa. He’s my favourite driver ‘cos he drops me off right outside Ibn Battuta Mall so I don’t have to make the long walk there from Gardens. Among all the drivers, he speaks the best English, so if I’m taking his bus I usually sit in front so we can chat. We chat about lots of stuff lah… How’s my job hunt getting along… Friday Mass at the church in Jebel Ali… Christmas in Dubai… His family back in India… Life in Singapore……

Angmohs speak English so why don’t I have a whole lot of mat salleh friends? I just realised that I still find it difficult to be ‘buddy-buddy’ with Caucasians probably ‘cos I just can’t do the kiss-the-cheek thing without feeling terribly uncomfortable. It’s like so muah-muah. And here, it’s done three times so muah-muah-muah. Ugh… Maybe it’s ‘cos I’m not sure if I should go left cheek or right cheek first? Or most probably it’s ‘cos it’s difficult when short Asian has to tiptoe to reach tall mat salleh’s cheek. Some just do it cheek to cheek but some actually kiss each cheek and actually verbalise the “muah”. And sometimes you meet someone who’s quite a good friend by now, and so you think it’s gonna be a hug, but you get the cheek-to-cheek thing instead as you’re reaching out for a hug, and it just ends up really messy and dumb. Ugh…

I know I’m not anyone’s brother-in-law, but next time you see me, just do the wave, nod, “Ay, macha”.

The Singapore I Miss

I miss the “kopi pua sio” and the aunty from one of the stalls at Marine Parade Central, which I used to frequent during my time at Gymboree. I miss the girls at Gymboree, Sue, Nadia and Joyce, and the kids like Yan Zhen, Yi An and Khrisha… I even miss doing the darn Gymbo dance and "The Wheels on the Bus" ride, jumping about and having as much if not more fun than the kids.


I miss being able to call Shorbs and Raena for no reason at all or just to ask or say weird things like “I’m lost in Raffles Place and all the buildings look the same” or “I just saw another ad with Andrew Poh’s face plastered on a SBS Bus” or “Ben wants to wear a mustard yellow suit for the wedding!”


I miss knowing that home is just a five-hour bus ride away, where family and friends are always just round the corner.


I miss reefwalking. I miss public reefwalks and camping out on Kusu Island, chatting and laughing with Pam and Ming after a walk, getting nagged at by Doreen, teased by Freddy, Daniel and Darius, and treated like a big sister by Lotus. I miss Wildfilming on any patch of sand or mud we can find in Singapore, or just exploring the shore at Changi on my own in the wee hours of the morning. I miss preparing for these trips out… Ziploc-king everything, the sound of silence at 3 in the morning… I even miss the morning afters. Like trying to stay awake at work after exploring a shore from 4 – 6 am, and knowing I’m gonna be waking up at 3am again the next day. I miss how it’s dark all around you except for the beam from your torchlight and you don’t really know what to expect or what’s in store, and the thrill of not knowing if you’re just gonna stumble on rocks or on something amazing like an octopus or the ever-lovable sea slug, even if it means getting bitten alive by sandflies or sinking knee deep in mud.

I miss Singapore’s libraries! All the books! And my membership which lets me hoard 8 books at a time! Even if my arm aches after carrying 8 hard cover reference books on the MRT from Bugis to Pasir Ris.


I miss just sitting at 136 with Ben and Peng or his other buddies, or just with Ben alone, having breakfast or lunch or dinner or supper, watching a game or just talking nonsense. I miss going for Sunday evening Mass with Ben at OLPS and the super-power choir and trying hard not to laugh when someone sings out of tune or says something wrong. And going for dinner at 85 after that… Barbecued stingray, chicken wings, mixed grill…

This I can’t believe I miss. I miss HDB life! Yeah, like I know I’m all alone here when Ben’s at work, but I’ve been all alone in Singapore many times too and just as happy alone as I was when I wasn’t. Make sense? Ok, here, when I step out onto the balcony, all I hear are crickets and an ocassional car or truck passing by. All I see is the ocassional car or truck passing by, and now and then people from the other blocks coming and going. Angmohs, Indians, Filipinos… Back home, you look out the window and you see life! Just regular, everyday life going on… People walking to and from the nearby market and central area… Kids going to or coming home from school… Makciks and aunties putting the laundry out to dry at the corridor, or taking their “galah”s in before sunset… People walking around with umbrellas, rain or shine… People waiting at the bus stop, and the buses going by every few minutes… Kids playing football at the open space below… Old Mr Lim watering his plants outside his flat… Minimart aunty scolding kids for opening the fridge for more than 10 seconds… Karanguni man making his rounds… Realising that you’re just like everyone else yet unique in your own way, not superior nor inferior, not out of place but feeling like you just belong.

City of Gold

After my solo adventure into Bur Dubai n Deira, Ben decided to follow in my ‘footsteps’ the next week on his day off. So we started out on the same route, but briskly walked through the Bastakiya area and Old Souk cos there weren’t many interesting things to see. And instead of taking the long route on foot all the way to Shindaga, we skipped the Heritage & Diving Village and hopped over to Deira on an abra.

This guy whizzes up and down the creek in his speedboat. The traditional costume that he’s wearing is called a dishdash, so Ben calls these guys “dishdash brudders”. Most of the time you’d see them speeding through the streets of Dubai in a PRE-release car (they upgrade their cars like how Ah Bengs upgrade handphones, so the latest models are always sent to Dubai first), and like this guy here, they’d be chatting on the phone. Either that or you just see a luxury car or Hummer with fully-tinted windows speeding by, or hear a really fast car, see a blur of colour, and go “Whoa… Lamborghini? Maserati?”


It was mid noon so almost all the shops in and around the souks were closed. It was like walking through zombie town. Only one shop was open in the Spice Souk, and a few other shops selling household items and children’s toys (the made in China type).

The Gold Souk was partially open, with shop after shop displaying all their ‘bling’ in mighty splendour.


Huge-ass diamonds, jewels, gold, gold, gold… more than all the Poh Kongs put together!


The streets however were paved with sleepy shopkeepers having their afternoon siesta.

The Perfume Souk is not exactly a traditional souk but rows of shops selling perfumes, incense, etc. Further away from the Gold Souk and close to the Al Sabkha Bus Station, we entered a shop selling spices, nuts, sweets, etc. Most of the shops here sell the same stuff, either spices, nuts & sweets, or household items & toys, plus a couple of haberdasheries.


Ben n I walked back to the creekside and sat at the Creek Park to watch the sunset, then took an abra back to Bur Dubai cos we were too bored and tired to wait for other shops to open.


The souks in Bur Dubai and Deira are places you’d go see once, just to say you’ve seen it. After all, it’s not like one shops for gold, frankincense and Superman suits on a regular basis, if ever.

Rain in no-brain-land

We have rain! Two weeks ago, there were dark clouds n I sms-ed Ben excitedly that it might rain. He told me to wait long-long, and he was right, the dark clouds just passed by. Two days later, the sky was grey again, and after a couple of hours, it rained for the first time since we came to Dubai! It was just a very, very light drizzle that lasted for about 30 minutes. Actually, it was so light it was almost like mist.

I took a picture but of course you can’t see rain here, although the ground is wet.

Then last week, Ben n I went to the Etisalat office at Sheikh Zayed Road to apply for home internet access. It rained again, and this time it was a heavier shower that lasted for about an hour. We walked in the rain without complaint cos it was so refreshing and the wind was quite cold.

The guy at Etisalat told us that we still couldn’t apply for internet access at home cos there aren’t any landlines and cables at Ewan yet. Although a wasted trip, we were pleasantly surprised by this fella’s attitude as we expected the same old rude reply of an ignorant idiot. Instead, he was polite and actually knew what he was talking about. No wonder he probably draws a 5-figure salary. Ben says he’s gonna buy a dishdash from Carrefour and apply for a job in a government agency.

Receptionists of UAE nationality get paid 7,000 – 8,000 dirhams (S$3,000 plus), so you can just imagine how much local men with an office job earn. Don’t quit your job just yet and come running to Dubai. The ridiculously high salaries are reserved for nationals and Caucasian expats only. A Graphic Designer (UAE National or Caucasian) can draw a monthly salary of 10,000 – 15,000 dirhams. If you’re Indian or Filipino, you get about 2,000 dirhams if you’re lucky.

Anyway, back to our rainy day at Sheikh Zayed Road… We took a few pictures of this really cool old-skool Maserati. Very Starsky-and-Hutch-A-E-“ba-liu” (ask Ben what that means if you don’t know)…


Then there were these two Harleys parked together. Check it out… even the foot-pedal-thingie is a skull.

It drizzled very lightly again yesterday. On other days, it’s still hot & sunny during the day, although quite cold in the morning and night. People are actually walking around wearing sweaters and jackets in the evenings now. And today, it rained from morning till night! Just light rain, but enough to cause flooding on some roads since the drains are either clogged with sand, or the drains don’t exist. I spent the afternoon at Battuta Mall and had difficulty walking back to Gardens are most of the roads were flooded.

Then I met Budak Busuk on the bus back from Gardens to Ewan. He recently moved to a studio apartment at Gardens. And guess what I found out from him? He’s had internet access at his apartment in Ewan since October!

So the Etisalat guy wasn’t that great after all. You know how when you watch movies like Hamburg Cell and see how potential terrorists are sent to Afghanistan for special ‘training’… Like man, they really have special places to train you to blow yourself up? Now I guess certain ‘people’ at any ‘pejabat’ or ‘imigresen’ back home probably come to Dubai for ‘kursus khas untuk orang bodoh n malas’.

Chef Invasion

Last week HR told Ben that they would get the Swedish guy to swap rooms with a Thai guy who lives in an apartment on the ground floor, cos the Thai guy is a Junior Sous Chef working with Ben so they think they might get along. It was a really stupid suggestion cos Budak Baru actually wants to move to some place closer to work, not to another room where he’ll have to share the flat with two other guys. I dunno if they did propose the idea to him and then realise how stupid they were.

But anyway, Budak Baru moved out on Friday to Jumeirah Village. Yup, to a tiny ratty studio like the one Ben viewed. At least he’s a little closer to work and the place has a gym, pool, pool room, internet access etc. So great, he’s here less than a month and he gets what he wants.

That’s what it’s like here. All hail the angmoh gods! If you’re not Arab or angmoh, you’re treated like pond scum. Chinese, Indian, Pakistani, Filipino, Bangladeshi… all Asian, all bottom dwellers of the Dubai ‘caste’ system.

So we’ve got the apartment to ourselves again, till Wednesday when Tinnakorn moves in. Tinnakorn just started at the hotel about a month ago. He’s supposed to be working at the new restaurant too, but like Ben, he’s now at Al Mahara till the new restaurant opens next year (now they say June 2007). So I’ll be living with two chefs. In the words of wacky Form 2 Geog teacher, Mrs Nathan, “Tuhan selamatkan saya”.

Maybe more like “Tuhan selamatkan dia” cos at work, it’s like “Yes, Chef”, “No, Chef”, “Ok, Chef”. Then when he comes home he still has to see Chef and live with Chef. Poor guy. Ben already stresses him out at work, and now tells him, “So you can teach my wife to cook Thai food yeah”. I guess with him being South East Asian and a chef, he should hopefully be more “normal” – the “normal” Ben n I are used to. At least he won’t be put off by stuff like belachan and durian.

Hopefully it’s third time lucky and we all can live happily ever after. But Tinnakorn’s very unhappy at work cos he, like many others, specialise in Thai or Chinese or Japanese cuisine, and come here only to find out that the opening of the new restaurant has been delayed till mid next year. Then they’re thrown into any kitchen to do something almost alien to them.

So he may decide to up and leave. Like Ben’s first flatmate, Hiro-san. He stayed here at Ewan for less than a month cos he works at Emirates Towers and had to move somewhere closer to work too. He went back to Japan after two months cos he told Ben the standards here “cannot make it” and he couldn’t bear to watch the restaurant serve such sub-standard food and pass it off as some sort of Japanese fusion fine dining. Against his principles. A chef with pride.

I’m afraid this place is really killing the chef in Ben too. He says, everything he’s learnt, all his blood, sweat, tears, and the blood, sweat, tears of all the chefs who have been a mentor to him, all gone. Everything good they’ve taught him doesn’t apply here, and it kills him to watch how the so-called chefs and cooks here commit what a chef back home would consider sacrilegious. They have no pride in the work they do, even when they act so proud.

Of course they have the right to act all high and mighty. They’re angmoh. Chef Julien used to always tell Ben and the rest, “You can cheat the customer, but you can never cheat yourself”. Ben says now he really knows what Julien was talking about. And now it makes sense why lots of things here get by if you just close one eye. You know how they say, in the land of the blind…

He's Out!

Yup… Budak Busuk has moved out! We’re not exactly sure if he requested to move out or if he was asked to leave cos we have different parties giving us a different story each. Here’s what happened, according to our side of the story.

First there were his China gang “parties” where he’d invite his noisy mates over and have a big cook-out and makan. So Ben told him nicely, “You can have your friends over but keep the noise down”.

Then there was the big get-together with almost 10 of them here, making damn a lot of noise, messing up the whole kitchen till they cooked the pot black, drinking, eating like pigs (they really eat like there’s no tomorrow, stuffing their mouths while talking at the same time with bits of food flying about)… So Ben was stern but nice when he told him, “You’re earning good money, a lot more than what your friends are earning, so be wise about the kind of friends you keep”. The aftermath of that party… a blackened Tefal pan and a melted spatula.


So after that, he had fewer friends over at a time, but even with just 2 girls or guys, it was still really annoying cos they’re just so loud, and of course they made themselves at home, switching channels while I was watching TV, cooking almost every night using rice, sauces, etc that I bought.

Ben wasn’t happy about these fellas coming over and watching TV as I hid away in the bedroom. There was one time when Ben came home early and The Housemate’s friend (we shall call him Freeloader) was in the hall watching TV. When Ben brought his dinner out to the hall, Freeloader asked “Eating dinner?” and Ben said, “Ya, do you mind?” and the fella buggered off.

I started keeping cooking stuff in the bedroom – rice, olive oil, vinegar, kitchen towels… Ya paper kitchen rolls. Each time they had one of they’re cookouts, they’d use up an ENTIRE roll of my paper kitchen towels!

I even asked Ben if he wanted to keep away his expensive Global knives, cos you know about chefs and their knives. No one touches a chef’s knife right, so I say to Ben, “The Housemate had broken a few glasses, melted the spatula, scratched my rice pot… do you wanna hide your knives in case he spoils them too?” Ben wanted to, but then he decided against it cos he said it may be “pantang” to keep knives in the bedroom.

And whadya know… Just a few days later, he MUTILATED Ben’s Global chef knife! Useless dumbass used it as a hammer! I heard a lot of hammering one afternoon and knew that he put up a small mirror opposite the mirror in his bathroom, cos he wanted to cut his hair on his own instead of going to the salon. But that night as I was preparing dinner, I picked up Ben’s knife and realised something was wrong with it. The Housemate used the butt of the knife to hammer in the nail. So now the stainless steel surface is pock-marked all over with rough and slightly sharp dents/scratches.


I sms-ed Ben immediately, and the other Sous Chef insisted Ben leave work early when he heard what happened. So Ben came back earlier that night and came into the kitchen to inspect the knife. The knife itself is still ok, it’s just that the handle bit is like crap now. So Ben purposely screamed out “Wahlaneh!!” and went out to the hall where The Housemate was watching TV. He asked him if he used the knife to hammer something and the fella said yes and apologised. Ben didn’t raise his voice at all, but just started grumbling on and on… “This is my personal item… brought all the way from Singapore… expensive and personal… I’ve had it for so many years…now it’s destroyed…” and about how he didn’t say anything when the fool broke glasses and all cos it’s company property, but this knife was HIS.

After that incident, the tension between Ben and The Housemate was obvious. Ben showed his disapproval when The Housemates friends were over by mumbling stuff like “Ya get out of the way” and “Useless!” if he had to walk past The Housemate’s friend in the apartment. One night we came home really late and found Freeloader sleeping on the couch without his shirt. Ben gave him a pissed off look so Freeloader ran into The Housemate's bedroom to sleep.

Then one evening, Ben said “The Housemate has moved out!” And I thought how could that be when he just asked me that same afternoon if we wanted to apply for an internet connection and cable tv service for the apartment. So Ben n I checked the apartment. His shoes which usually lay astrew near the front door… gone. Most of his stuff from the kitchen… gone.

The next afternoon, The Housemate came back and took a few more of his things and I asked him if he was moving out. And he said he met a friend of his who studied with him in Switzerland, and the guy just arrived in Dubai and is a Management Trainee with Jumeirah too. Since he just moved in to his apartment here at Ewan, The Housemate requested to move in with him too, and it was approved immediately.

Now all this time, Ben had already put in a request to move to a single-bedroom apartment which is his entitlement. After the big “China party”, Ben went to HR again to complain about The Housemate and his noisy gatherings. Then after the knife and other smelly incidents, Ben and the other Sous Chef made a couple more complaints to HR to expedite Ben’s move to a better apartment, or get The Housemate to move out.

So the day The Housemate moved out, he and Freeloader came over to get the last of his stuff, and Ben came back that night saying that HR told him that The Housemate was asked to move out. So I don’t know if he was really asked to move out or if he requested to move in with his friend. Ben said he could hear the usual noisy gathering going on in The Housemate’s new apartment cos it turned out he moved to the unit just diagonally across from us, and I wonder why he didn’t dare tell me that when I asked him where he was moving to. So that night, Ben n I celebrated the fact that the Budak Busuk was out.

That same night at about 3am, I heard a sound in the apartment. Ben was really tired and fell right to sleep, so I didn’t wake him and just said a decade of the Rosary for safety. Then in the morning when Ben’s alarm went off at 7.30, I heard The Housemate’s bedroom door open and his bathroom door close. So I got out of bed and sat on the couch, waiting to see who was gonna come out of the bathroom. Ben woke up and asked what I was doing in the hall, and when I explained what I heard and that someone was in the bathroom, Ben got real mad.

He must have literally scared THE SHIT out of the guy in the bathroom. It was Freeloader who was in the bathroom. Ben hammered on the door really hard and shouted, “Who’s in there?” No answer, so he hammered some more. “Who the @#%* is in there?!!”

A shit-scared Freeloader answered “It’s The Housemate’s friend” and Ben continued, “Come out NOW!! @##$$%^%$!!#!!

Freeloader sounded like he was almost crying, “Wait wait… I in toilet”

“COME OUT NOW! @#*%^KNN#*^%#!! What’s your staff number? Give me your staff number?!! Get the #*^%# out!!!”

“Wait wait…”

Freeloader finally came out of the toilet and Ben demanded for his staff number and the apartment keys, warning him that he was actually “breaking and entering” and Freeloader said he didn’t have the keys cos they were with The Housemate who was sleeping peacefully in his new apartment. So Freeloader ran out saying he’d go get The Housemate. From the hall I could hear Freeloader wailing to The Housemate in Mandarin like really kau-peh really really loudly and it really sounded like he was crying. Of course, The Housemate was too scared to come over and hand the keys to Ben, even though they actually took the same bus to work that morning.

Ben of course went straight to HR to report what happened, and this time it wasn’t just the other Sous Chef with him, but one of the Exec Sous Chefs, who then went straight to the HR Director. The HR Director then got the Accomodation Manager in charge of Ewan Residence to get the keys back from The Housemate by that evening. The manager Habib came by the apartment that afternoon to get a full report of what happened, so I told him, and also showed him the melted spatula and told him about the broken glasses.

We’re guessing The Housemate must have gotten a warning or something cos Ben saw him the other day and he of course wasn’t happy to see Ben. So now we actually have someone living just across from our apartment who hates Ben. We don’t think he’ll dare try anything funny, and Ben’s pretty sure he’s gonna piss off his new flat-mate soon enough too. His new flatmate, although a “friend” of his, isn’t a Chinese national but an African, so with all the regular “Chinese-nationals-unite-and-make-some-noise” get togethers, the flatmate may either request to move out, or if he’s just as immature and irresponsible, he may piss The Housemate off with his own gatherings and stuff.

On the other hand, I guess it must be pretty hard for people to live with chefs, unless they too are chefs and have that same obsessive compulsive standard of cleanliness, hygiene and order. So here’s hoping the next flatmate we have is more mature and responsible, and maybe even from Singapore or Malaysia, cos we now know how the Chinese here live. The Filipinos here are just as noisy cos they make friends with everyone and sing all the time. And the angmohs here think Dubai is just one big night club where you can party and pick up girls all day and night.

Dunwannabe

I just realised I'm a dunwannabe. Never wannabe this or that, always dunwanna be this and that.

I’m turning 29 tomorrow! Ben managed to get this Sunday & Monday off, so it’s our first birthday together. A HSBC rep who handled Ben’s banking stuff insisted that Ben must cook for me… Don’t you think that’s so expected? Like, “oh, your husband’s a chef so you probably get to eat really nice food huh” or “oh, your husband’s a chef so you don’t need to worry about cooking huh”…

If that’s the case, then I wonder what people say to Ben? Like, “oh, your wife’s a housewife who was a graphic designer and who’s in limbo between graphic design, early childhood education and 'tai-tai-hood' so you probably get really creative lectures about how to wipe your nose while keeping the kitchen clean?”

We've realised that time, or the day, passes real quickly here. We figured it’s cos since you get more hours of daylight here (it’s bright n sunny from 6am till 7.30pm), your body automatically works on “daytime mode” right up till sunset. Ok, firstly I wake up rather late lah… Say about 11.30am or sometimes even later in the afternoon! Then I either prepare cover letters to fax or email out, get something to eat, do laundry or house cleaning when necessary… By 5-6pm I may go out to the nearby shops for grocery shopping, faxing or internet surfing till 7-9pm… Then by 10-11pm it’s time to prepare dinner, read the papers or Dubai guide books, wait for Ben to get home, have dinner at 1-2am, sleep.

I’m still looking n applying for graphic design jobs, cos the teaching jobs require you to be British, American or “western educated” – their way of saying “we only hire angmohs”. Like out of 5, I get a call back from 1, and find out that the company is located far from our Timbuktu home. So what I do now is go for the interview anyway and ask them if I can do freelance work for them… which is usually no cos most employers of course want someone whose neck they can breathe down all day.

Ben n I have sorted out our monthly budget and hope we can stick to it cos based on how much we have to send back to Singapore to settle bills, etc, and the amount we spend here, it’s quite alarming that Ben doesn’t get to save much. That’s why I’m still hoping I’ll get a job soon so we can at least have a bit more to save (and splurge…). But it’s a good thing I was jobless last month or the Summer Sales would have killed me! So tempting… It’s like 80% of the stuff goes on sale at 50% discount, and the last week of the sale (that was last week), it gets slashed another 50% so it’s 75% off the original price.

So back to our monthly budget… We spent like about Dhs.800 on groceries (foodstuff only) last month! I guess it’s hard to calculate how much we actually spend/need cos The Housemate and I take turns to buy stuff like rice, oil, eggs, etc, and even though I use it more regularly than he does, when he has his “China Parties” he uses up a lot of stuff at one go, so I’m not sure exactly how much foodstuff Ben n I need a month. Right now I’ve set the budget at Dhs.500 and hope I can keep it to that or less.

We also spent damn a lot on cabfare, so now I’ve downloaded all the routes, maps n timetables for the public bus service so that we can budget our travelling expenses a little. But Ben doesn’t really like the idea of me travelling by public bus here. I guess I’ll try it out at least a couple of times first to see how “convenient and efficient” it is and whether it’s considered “safe” by Ben’s standards.

There’s a restaurant/café in Ibn Battuta Mall that is equipped with wi-fi whatever-you-call-it and I tried it out a few weeks back. In the end, it’s still better to pay Dhs.10 an hour at the nearby shops, cos connection at that wi-fi place was really slow, and to take a cab back from there costs me Dhs.30, plus another Dhs.10 to buy a drink and sit there… So even if I sit my butt there for 5 hours, I can’t get much done due to the slow connection.

Before I left Singapore, I applied online for a cabin crew position with Emirates Airlines. When I got here, I got in touch with my bro’s friend, Juline who flies with Emirates to ask her whatever I wanted to know about the job. She used to fly with SQ too, and comparing working with both airlines, with Emirates, much better pay, but shorter layovers and horrible passengers. Apparently the economy class cabin is converted into a dump after each meal service as the pax are really messy and demanding. It’s like an SQ Madras turn, but on almost every flight! And she said to be able to make it and enjoy the job, you have to be very “garang” and get your way with the rest, no need for the SQ “please go ahead cos you’re senior n I love your hair n nails” culture. It’s a dog eat dog world for Emirates crew.

So this kinda got me worried cos I totally cannot be “garang” lah so for sure kena bully by the big angmoh “girls”. And on top of that, Drew’s friend said that Emirates wasn’t hiring married girls anymore because of some maternity leave and benefits thing. So I decided to forget about “a rewarding career with Emirates”.

Then one day I get a call from them asking me to attend a group interview. Ben said I should just go, see-see, get free makan… So I went even though I wasn’t looking forward to working with “garang” people, but only cos they pay really well (like ten thousand dirhams a month including allowances, plus lodging, transport, etc) … It was supposed to be a whole day affair, from 7.30am onwards. Of course, it would be a whole day affair if you were lucky to get through the various rounds of “elimination”. My “whole day affair” ended by 10.30am!

There were about 23 of us “candidates”, about 4 guys, the rest girls. 80% Filipino and the rest a mixture of Kenyan, angmoh, and the “lain-lain” like me. So first off, they make you wait in the bloody cold reception area for an hour till your fingernails turn blue. Then in a room, two ex-crew tell you all about the airline, the job, life in Dubai, etc. Then each “candidate” goes into a room for the “Reach” test, where they test if you can reach a certain mark on the wall with your arm/hand, which is the minimum height requirement to access onboard safety equipment. I managed to reach it on tiptoes lah.

Then, we’re divided into two groups, do some icebreaking intro thing and given a topic to discuss in 10 minutes. The topic for my group of 12 was, imagine you have to create a new world. You have to name this new world and come up with 10 professionals who will belong to this new world. Professionals must be creative, not the usual engineer, doctor, etc.

So my group starts discussing, and waste probably 8 minutes with one guy giving a detailed bio of Lance Armstrong and why he should be in this new world, and the next girl stating why that Princess Di, Prince Charle’s “wife” (didn’t she mean late ex-wife?) should be part of this new world… only to be interrupted by the facilitator that we don’t have to name specific individuals.

So finally, based on one of the facilitators' suggestions and because we had only 2 minutes left, we came up with an imaginary underwater world called Sea World (oh wow, sungguh kreatif), and we have a king, queen, doctor, driver, etc, etc. I didn’t really come up with anything except stupid smart ass remarks which was probably the cause of my “elimination”! Like someone said that Sea World needed someone to keep the water clean, like a filter, so I was like…

Bernie: Ya, a sea sponge! We can name him Bob.

SOUND: WEAK LAUGHTER FROM A FEW PEOPLE JUXTAPOSED WITH THE CHIRPING OF CRICKETS.

Then there was this girl from Lebanon, who at the start of the day had already told the room about how sad a state her country is in, oh war, war… I’m really not being a bitch, and we all feel sad about Lebanon and war-torn countries, but she just kept this sad and pathetic look on her face all day, and all her remarks were like, “oh my country war…” So when someone mentioned that our Sea World should have a warrior, she said “oh, no war, our world must have no war”. Which is of course utopically true, but smart ass Bernie then said…

Bernie: The only way you can have a world without war is if everyone was identical so that no one will envy each other…

SOUND: MORE CHIRPING OF CRICKETS.

So of course, those who didn’t say a word during the discussion, and the insensitive smart ass one didn’t get through to the next round lah. And those who came up with creative suggestions like King, Queen, Warrior, Doctor, Driver, Consultant, etc, as well as Miss Lebanon got through. Some more, no free makan, man!

So now I wonder, if they don’t want smart asses as cabin crew, why does SQ now prefer to hire degree holders, and offer early promotion to cabin crew with degrees? I mean, all an airline needs is a stewardess who wants world peace. Now with SQ dropping in ranking for Best Airline, Best Cabin Crew, etc, I've come up with a solution for SIA to boost their image and re-invent the Singapore Girl - a Singapore Girl Search reality show.

An intense regionwide competition to see who can suck up to the seniors the best while eating humble pie till she pukes without messing up her super wayang make-up, and she should puke whatever she eats cos she has to make sure she's skinny enough for SQ standards, so stick thin that she can squeeze through two carts parked side by side but can hardly lift a fire extinguisher. Then she has to hold a degree in any discipline but ensure she entertains passengers with really intelligent conversation like how she wants to study 'law', and ponder before n after each flight why she's called a Singapore Girl when she's from Malaysia, Indonesia, India, China, Japan or Korea, and why people say she's "a great way to fly".

The Start of Ben n Bernie's Dubai Adventures

Yesterday evening I took the shuttle to JBH to meet Ben after work. Caught my first glimpse of the Burj Al Arab from a distance. Although it’s really hazy here, just seeing the Burj for the first time in real life kinda gives you goose bumps. I guess cos each time I saw it on TV I’d think to myself, my husband works there, how cool is that? And now to see it for real…

Then we took the shuttle to Lamcy, and a cab to the Dubai Museum where we were supposed to meet Andrew. But due to miscommunication, Andrew was waiting for us at Deira City Centre. So Ben and I took another cab to City Centre to meet Andrew and had dinner at Japengo. Andrew’s one of the chefs at the Japengo outlet at Madinat Jumeirah.

After dinner we took a cab to Regal Plaza Hotel and had drinks at an English pub there. There were a few Chinese men at the next table conversing in Hokkien, so Andrew said must be Malaysian or Singaporean. But of course once you hear familiar phrases like “wa lau eh” and “k-n-n” you know for sure where they’re from lah. Before we left Andrew n Ben chatted with them a bit. They’re in the Construction business here, and come to this pub often for live soccer matches. They also said there was gonna be some kinda gathering or party the next weekend to celebrate National Day at the Singapore Consulate or whatever.

After that we got Rana to send us home. We dropped Andrew home first and had a look at his place. He’s paying 3,500dhs a month for a really crappy place. He lives in Deira, in a tiny one-room flat. It looks clean n new inside, but really cramped with only enough space for a bed, tv, small cupboard. The ‘kitchen’ is the same size as the bathroom… like ‘hobbit’ size, and even his laundry has to be hung at a funny angle in the kitchen or it wouldn’t fit. Poor guy’s still asking Rana to help him find a better place. Even the location is really bad. It’s like in some dark n dingy back alley, and it’s true that it’s like Geylang… just that those living n ‘working’ there are Nigerian ‘kai’.

Today Ben brought me to the “white house”, Jumeirah’s HR office, to get my paperwork done and apply for my medical check-up. So now it’s my turn for the big Dubai run-around. Apparently I have to go to Rashid Hospital to get a Health Card, and then to the Immigration Typing Center to pay 150dhs to get my visa application typed. This is after Ben’s crazy Dubai run-around plus a few hundred dirhams to apply for my visa that got me here in the first place.

The “white house” is located opposite Jumeirah Beach Hotel and Burj al Arab, so I finally got to take some pics of the Hotel. But this is the closest outsiders like me can get to the hotel – the security gate.

Then we headed over to the Mall of the Emirates.

Apart from being a huge-ass mall, Emirates Mall has this Star-Wars-X-Wing-Fighter-docking-bay-looking thing sticking out at one end. This part of the mall is actually Ski Dubai, an indoor ski and snow park.

Ben waited till I was with him to step into their posh “department stores” like Harvey Nichols n Debenham’s. You have salespeople dressed in designer suits waiting on you so it’s really quite intimidating to walk around the store. Then Ben n I had tea at Armani Café cos he says when ever or where else would we be able to have kopi at ARMANI café… Paid something like 80 dirhams for a skinny latte, a fruit cocktail, tiramisu and apple pie.

We bought some household stuff from Carrefour – electric kettle, laundry basket, foldable laundry hanger-rack thing, etc, then headed home. We watched a rented DVD on my laptop – Wicker Park. Really nice movie… Why was it rated R(A) in Singapore? Or is the stuff we get here really censored big time?

Anyway, how DVD rental goes here is, Ben pays the shop 300dhs. He gets to borrow 30 DVDs (no time limit). Each time he borrows a DVD, whether one copy or 3 at one go, he has to return it within 12 days. Once he’s completed renting 30 DVDs, the shop will return him 150dhs. So it costs about 5dhs a DVD lah. A movie ticket here costs 35dhs!