Email from the Past

Pat emailed me today. She hasn't done that since her husband Alistair died. It's been a year since my good friend from Carlisle passed on. What do - should - I write about someone who had been a major part of my life in the faraway boonies of the English Lake District, a land of spectacular landscapes, where the grass is greener than green and every turn a postcard-perfect rendition of nature?

I would always recall with fondness the stunning landscapes of Penrith, Borrowdale, Keswick; but even those could not hold a candle to memories of my friend Alistair, as wicked as his humour was. He would probably have been 60 this year. A self-taught historian and guide at the Carlisle cathedral, his jokes about the local verger and keen appreciation for anything historical (and everything is historical) was what made him, well, great to be with.

Alistair took it upon himself to "educate" me on English and Scottish history. So began the field trips and meals and fireplace conversations that lasted almost 3 years. Thanks to him, I saw the site of the Lockerbie crash, visited obscure and quaint villages, learnt about chieftains and clans and their castles, manors, homes. Buildings and places came alive with their past glories narrated by a learned student... and such was Alistair Davidson, son of the (obviously) Davidson clan. Being with Alistair meant I learnt about different pleats, tartan and crest designs, suits for the infantry throughout the years and you've guessed it... he is an avid modeler. Which means he knew about weapon and artillery designs say... from the medieval era till WW2.

(In return, he got healthy doses of Asian cultural indiosyncrasies and great helpings of Asian food.)

More important than merely being a student of history is the skill of interpretation that makes sense of the present and hopefully, the future. Alistair and I used to have long discourses on God - the sovereign Architect of history. We diverged at the point of being born again.

One cold, unforgiving winter's day, we went fly fishing at the creek. The waters were deep in the countryside so we hadda cross over a farm and walk alongside the fences. All of us (Alistair, Pat, their grandkids Iesha and Angus, and I) were warm inside our windbreakers though the windchill factor was below humane. Alistair cast his line and waited. I did the same and the hook caught my jacket, tearing the fabric in a merciless tow. Great. Wind meets skin. Mine.

Some luck-less hours later, we decided the fish were either:
1. Hibernating or
2. Moved to colder Trans-Atlantic waters to hibernate

So we trudged home, each thinking happy thoughts which included Pat's awesome Yorkshire puddings. At a stopover at the farm, Iesha and Angus patted the pony behind me, which had the snuffles (Later I found out the animal was chewing at the tear in my jacket.)

We arrived home empty handed, but all the more richer for the great company. That turned out to be Alistair's last fishing trip with me. His body was too weak to accommodate another.

Do I miss my friend? Terribly so. Will I see him again? I am not sure. And sometimes I wonder if there was more I could have done for him.

Ah! This side of eternity and all its unanswered questions!

Celestial Steakhouse International

With an acronym as such, there was no difficulty striking a conversation with the owner of CSI, Gary May, to find out more about his "killer" Cajun dishes. Less said is more, so he promptly strutted out his stuff:






































(From top to bottom):
Soup of the day (in this case clear veggie) with the variety of breads and rolls.

New York Cheesecake with strwberry topping and oreo crust. Divine!

Sundae Brownie with pecan and fudge topping. To die for.
























(Fr left, back row):
Seafood Quesadillas, BBQ Beef ribs (yummy!!!!) Taco Bowl with special Ranch dressing.

(Fr left, front):
Rainbow trout glazed with honey, pecan and huckleberries; Grilled halibut with Jambalaya rice, Chilly Fries.




Check them out:
B-G-01, Jln SS6/20, Dataran Glomac, Pusat Bandar Kelana Jaya, Selangor.

Not Worth the Compromise

It was Nick's 11th birthday tonight. Well, technically his birthday was yesterday, but we celebrated it tonight coz there was Krsytle & Jared's wedding yesterday. There were more than 20 people at Nick's bash, mostly adults. I can't believe he's already in Standard Five! Seemed like yesterday when I held him as a newborn, took loads and loads of photos of him, watched as he got disciplined, etc...

During the dinner I had another spasm attack. My facial muscles jammed up first, followed by tingling sensation on my arms. I started to palpitate. Great. Just as I was about to attack the nicest part of the dinner too... in moments like these I really begin to think that I would not be able to outlive the people at the table. Given, some of them are like in their 50s but they seemed to enjoy more robust health.

That's fine with me.

The idea is not to live the longest, but to max it out in obedience to God.

Nick's parents are my godbro and godsis. They took me under their wing when I was a homeless ,persecuted young Christian. Not only that, they invested years of their time and money on me, sacrificed and did things that could only come from Love Above. If it weren't for them and my godparents, I would have become a lesser person.

And in those years they never murmured. Once when I told my godbro how I appreciated him, he said, "you know, one day I hope you be the same person to someone else."

The dinner tonight was not just another birthday party. It was another chance to be thankful for the friends that we have, to drink in the merriment and cherish the bonding - something you can't buy, shouldn't postpone and can never re-enact.

Everytime I met my godbro and godsis, I am reminded never to compromise on my relationships. It is never worth it.

Dammed (up) Place

Kenyir, Terengganu: No mobile phone coverage. Perfect isolation.






No leeches here, but "ada pacat".





Journey to kelah sanctuary begins here.




Lesung for chilly. Chilly for fish. Fish for hungry people.

Four Sleepless Nights

I can't believe I spent a couple days just poring over the passage in Gen 22, re: the sacrifice of Isaac. Just for a 75-min study. Why would a good God order such a cruel, inhumane deed? Why didn't Abraham intercede for Isaac the way he petitioned for Lot? And what manner of mental retard is Isaac to allow himself to be bound and sacrificed as a burnt offering - the kind that is killed before being wholly consumed by fire?? I mean, literally toast.

Neatly-packaged answers abound. It was a test for Abraham. God would not allow human sacrifices and deemed it an abomination when the Canaanites practised it those days. Which accounted for why Abraham was prevented from slaying his son at the altar. Many of us would never go through the severe test Abraham did. Scripture does not record whether Abraham really did intercede for his son Isaac to be spared, but we know that he obeyed God immediately when the strange command was given. Later, we realise that the test was for Abraham's own benefit. He needed to know the extent of his love and obedience to God. As for Isaac, well, he was a meek character. Not weak. Huge difference coz meekness is great strength under control. And reveals great faith under wraps. Perfect metaphor for the providence of Christ as the atoning sacrifice for mankind.

The thing I like about the Bible is its no-holds-barred description of events - the characters are real, flawed and human. The problem I have is that it does not give me a picture of God that is comfortable. I am uncomfortable with a God Who does not conform to my understanding. I am uncomfortable with a God Who suddenly pulls the rug under the feet of His saints and subjects them to encounters of the near-delirium type. I am uncomfortable with a God Whom I cannot predict.

Call me a glutton for punishment, but this unknown factor in the equation is actually drawing me like a moth to a lightbulb. So I am convinced God is good, holy, faithful and trustworthy. But He is also dangerously unpredictable. Would I be tested on this kinda scale one day? One part of me hopes not, the other is actually (gasp!) entertaining the prospect, wondering what it would be like.

Dear God, You test Your children to bring out the best possible good. Help me live in daily obedience - for that "easy transit" to the biggie test...

Superman Returns... about time too

Yay... Superman Returns in 24 hours!

Yup, watching the world premiere at Midvalley, thanks to a friend who got me a pair of free tickets. Honestly never thought I would be watching it two days earlier, since my chances of getting tickets were pretty slim this year. BUT, as chance (or some would say Providence) would have it, my friend called this morning to offer me the tickets (good to have such friends).

So I am going for the 9.30pm show tomorrow with LP. if its gonna be anything like last year's Revenge of The Sith, we gotta place our handphones in the car (lest we gotta surrender them at the cinema entrance) and dress formal. Don't know which is worse. Still, I can hardly wait.

Oh well..

Sick again... aaargh...

Fever yesterday that blew into massive sore throat and general weakness (er, the kind that makes the entire body quiver and bones ache...)

Sigh.

Hate being sick.

Just as I was about to attack the apple crumble cheesecake too...

(Groan).

Can't Go

Oh no. Everytime - well, most of everytime - I read a missive of sorts from a missionary, I feel it should have been me out there. Me going and not staying. What's wrong with me? I have been home almost 5 years and I should be settled! Should be thinking about furthering my career, getting married, building a retirement fund, getting on with life, etc. But here I am, thinking how to get back to the field and resisiting my own thoughts at the same time! Talk about mental torture... aaaaargh...

Why I like Toronto

1. Don & Ollie (tho they are not there anymore... moved to BC)
2. My 6th Aunt
3. Feels like 'home'
4. People are tolerant, courteous, etc
5. Public library every coupla blocks
6. Tim Horton's
7. Love the Fall and Winter
8. I dunno... I can't explain why, but I sure know the way it makes me feel...

Chocolates & Mudslides

So I spent 3 hours in this chocolate factory. Nice. Swiped some vanillin on my tongue... it's white powder so I could pretend I was clutching a giant bag of heroin waiting for the Feds to close up on me while I hatch an ingenious escape plan outta thin air. Next scene - I am lazing under the Bahamas sun, on a deck chair with reformed Adonis feeding me (peeled & seedless) grapes. Don't blame me. I grew up on pathetic cops and robbers plots on daytime tv.

Anyways, back to chocolate factory. It was just a small outfit but we saw the entire process. It wasn't enough to put me off chocolates forever, not even when they poured the mud sludge into a giant mixer with bits of cereal, nuts and etc. I kept thinking about the mudslides that kill people. Imagine people buried alive in mud, all orifices choking full of muck. Till sludge oozes outta every imaginable outlet in the body.

BUT of course I am not through with chocolate. Not yet anyways. Tho I am slowly but surely losing my sweet tooth.

Working Late

Aaargh! It's late at night and I am still working. Looking for this diamond-polishing facility which seems to be eluding me past couple days. Sheesh! Doing the costing, planning, schedule for the shoot.... but I kinda like this kinda work, so I guess it is still ok.

MK helped me in my search too, so nice of him. Looking forward to working with him again, haven't done so in almost a year! Yikes... I can't believe I have been off-hands in production for that long! Anyways, I have been busy with other stuff so that's ok.

Spent major part of today preparing and typing Bible study notes for class. After that I drew up the study guide for the next coupla weeks. Should be enough to tide me over till end July.

Sure hope the productions don't clash with the Bible studies. The girls are doing so well. Bea is downloading sermons from the internet and getting herself frazzled in the process, while LP insists she is on her way to becoming an atheist. What great encouragement.

As for me, I sure could do with some excitement in my life... think will pray seriously about trip to Toronto again (my favourite city in the entire world!). Been meaning to visit some friends in BC too. Can't wait to slurp some Tim Horton's hot chocolate and sink my teeth into the doughnuts... aaaaaah!

Dream, dream, dream...

Loneliness

Need someone to talk to about...

why people pour out their problems unto me and I don't have someone to do the same to?

why do I seem to be disinterestedly out on a hinge in this world?

why do I think so differently?

why am I so wierd?

According to AW Tozer, it's all right. Dig this article below:



The Saint Must Walk Alone

AW Tozer





Most of the world's great souls have been lonely. Loneliness seems to be one price the saint must pay for his saintliness. In the morning of the world (or should we say, in that strange darkness that came soon after the dawn of man's creation), that pious soul, Enoch, walked with God and was not, for God took him; and while it is not stated in so many words, a fair inference is that Enoch walked a path quite apart from his contemporaries.

Another lonely man was Noah who, of all the antediluvians, found grace in the sight of God; and every shred of evidence points to the aloneness of his life even while surrounded by his people.

Again, Abraham had Sarah and Lot, as well as many servants and herdsmen, but who can read his story and the apostolic comment upon it without sensing instantly that he was a man "whose soul was alike a star and dwelt apart"? As far as we know not one word did God ever speak to him in the company of men. Face down he communed with his God, and the innate dignity of the man forbade that he assume this posture in the presence of others. How sweet and solemn was the scene that night of the sacrifice when he saw the lamps of fire moving between the pieces of offering. There, alone with a horror of great darkness upon him, he heard the voice of God and knew that he was a man marked for divine favor.

Moses also was a man apart. While yet attached to the court of Pharaoh he took long walks alone, and during one of these walks while far removed from the crowds he saw an Egyptian and a Hebrew fighting and came to the rescue of his countryman. After the resultant break with Egypt he dwelt in almost complete seclusion in the desert. There, while he watched his sheep alone, the wonder of the burning bush appeared to him, and later on the peak of Sinai he crouched alone to gaze in fascinated awe at the Presence, partly hidden, partly disclosed, within the cloud and fire.

The prophets of pre-Christian times differed widely from each other, but one mark they bore in common was their enforced loneliness. They loved their people and gloried in the religion of the fathers, but their loyalty to the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, and their zeal for the welfare of the nation of Israel drove them away from the crowd and into long periods of heaviness. "I am become a stranger unto my brethren, and an alien unto my mother's children," cried one and unwittingly spoke for all the rest.

Most revealing of all is the sight of that One of whom Moses and all the prophets did write, treading His lonely way to the cross. His deep loneliness was unrelieved by the presence of the multitudes.

He died alone in the darkness hidden from the sight of mortal man and no one saw Him when He arose triumphant and walked out of the tomb, though many saw Him afterward and bore witness to what they saw.

There are some things too sacred for any eye but God's to look upon. The curiosity, the clamor, the well-meant but blundering effort to help can only hinder the waiting soul and make unlikely if not impossible the communication of the secret message of God to the worshiping heart.

Sometimes we react by a kind of religious reflex and repeat dutifully the proper words and phrases even though they fail to express our real feelings and lack the authenticity of personal experience. Right now is such a time. A certain conventional loyalty may lead some who hear this unfamiliar truth expressed for the first time to say brightly, "Oh, I am never lonely. Christ said, `I will never leave you nor forsake you,' and `Lo, I am with you alway.' How can I be lonely when Jesus is with me?"

Now I do not want to reflect on the sincerity of any Christian soul, but this stock testimony is too neat to be real. It is obviously what the speaker thinks should be true rather than what he has proved to be true by the test of experience. This cheerful denial of loneliness proves only that the speaker has never walked with God without the support and encouragement afforded him by society. The sense of companionship which he mistakenly attributes to the presence of Christ may and probably does arise from the presence of friendly people. Always remember: you cannot carry a cross in company. Though a man were surrounded by a vast crowd, his cross is his alone and his carrying of it marks him as a man apart. Society has turned against him; otherwise he would have no cross. No one is a friend to the man with a cross. "They all forsook Him, and fled."

The pain of loneliness arises from the constitution of our nature. God made us for each other. The desire for human companionship is completely natural and right. The loneliness of the Christian results from his walk with God in an ungodly world, a walk that must often take him away from the fellowship of good Christians as well as from that of the unregenerate world. His God-given instincts cry out for companionship with others of his kind, others who can understand his longings, his aspirations, his absorption in the love of Christ; and because within his circle of friends there are so few who share inner experiences, he is forced to walk alone. The unsatisfied longings of the prophets for human understanding caused them to cry out in their complaint, and even our Lord Himself suffered in the same way.

The man who has passed on into the divine Presence in actual inner experience will not find many who understand him. A certain amount of social fellowship will of course be his as he mingles with religious persons in the regular activities of the church, but true spiritual fellowship will be hard to find. But he should not expect things to be otherwise. After all he is a stranger and a pilgrim, and the journey he takes is not on his feet but in his heart. He walks with God in the garden of his own soul - and who but God can walk there with him? He is of another spirit from the multitudes that tread the courts of the Lord's house. He has seen that of which they have only heard, and he walks among them somewhat as Zacharias walked after his return from the altar when the people whispered, "He has seen a vision."

The truly spiritual man is indeed something of an oddity. He lives not for himself but to promote the interests of Another. He seeks to persuade people to give all to his Lord and asks no portion or share for himself. He delights not to be honored but to see his Savior glorified in the eyes of men. His joy is to see his Lord promoted and himself neglected. He finds few who care to talk about that which is the supreme object of his interest, so he is often silent and preoccupied in the midst of noisy religious shoptalk. For this he earns the reputation of being dull and overserious, so he is avoided and the gulf between him and society widens. He searches for friends upon whose garments he can detect the smell of myrrh and aloes and cassia out of the ivory palaces, and finding few or none, he, like Mary of old, keeps these things in his heart.

It is this very loneliness that throws him back upon God. "When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up." His inability to find human companionship drives him to seek in God what he can find nowhere else. He learns in inner solitude what he could not have learned in the crowd - that Christ is All in All, that He is made unto us wisdom, righteousness, sanctification and redemption, that in Him we have and possess life's summum bonum.

Two things remain to be said. One, that the lonely man of whom we speak is not a haughty man, nor is he the holier-than-thou, austere saint so bitterly satirized in popular literature. He is likely to feel that he is the least of all men and is sure to blame himself for his very loneliness. He wants to share his feelings with others and to open his heart to some like-minded soul who will understand him, but the spiritual climate around him does not encourage it, so he remains silent and tells his griefs to God alone.

The second thing is that the lonely saint is not the withdrawn man who hardens himself against human suffering and spends his days contemplating the heavens. Just the opposite is true. His loneliness makes him sympathetic to the approach of the brokenhearted and the fallen and the sin-bruised. Because he is detached from the world, he is all the more able to help it. Meister Eckhart taught his followers that if they should find themselves in prayer and happen to remember that a poor widow needed food, they should break off the prayer instantly and go care for the widow. "God will not suffer you to lose anything by it," he told them. "You can take up again in prayer where you left off and the Lord will make it up to you." This is typical of the great mystics and masters of the interior life from Paul to the present day.

The weakness of so many modern Christians is that they feel too much at home in the world. In their effort to achieve restful "adjustment" to unregenerate society they have lost their pilgrim character and become an essential part of the very moral order against which they are sent to protest. The world recognizes them and accepts them for what they are. And this is the saddest thing that can be said about them. They are not lonely, but neither are they saints.

Strange yet Familiar

Strange things often happen in my shower/ bathroom.

No, I don't mean horrifying strange things. I mean the kind of situations where one goes into the shower with one kind of mindset and emerge from it with a totally different one.

Let me explain.

I do a lot of thinking in the shower. Way too much, I think. There must be something about being in an enclosed area, undressed before no one but God, that immediately stimulates my mind to overdrive in a "supernatural" way.

To put it simply, God speaks to me in the shower. A lot. Profoundly too. And in many occassions I have found this to be a pervailing pattern. I cannot explain this phonomenon, I sure didn't stage it in any way. Heck, I don't even think about it much, but numerous times throughout the years, many an important decision was sealed in the bathroom. And it is not like I take forever to conduct my business (usually it's 10 mins, 20 mins max) . I guess Moses had his burning bush, and I have my bathroom. (Moses had a rod too, what am I supposed to do with the shower head???)

As I see it, God is sovereign, so He can speak to us any way He chooses. In my case, it may not be the most common method to communicate, but it rings with a tone of loud familiarity. It is a tone that is easily recognisable by the person to whom it is addressed. Man, do I hear it!

So yesterday, while I was down in bed the entire day with a severe nausea and headache (suspect it's anaemia aggravated by menstruation), I called the girls to cancel our Bible study. I could not get up from bed / chair without a splitting headache and fainting. Life sucked.

After that I went into the shower and wow, like immediately when I latched the door shut, a strong thought came, "...by faith Abel, ... Enoch... Noah... etc". That was followed by another, "it is not by flesh, nor circumstances, but by faith..."

I could not allow my physical condition to assail my commitment to God. No way. I decided to go ahead, and if I faint, then I faint. But at least I have done what I should have.

So I conducted the study. Man, the headaches were terrible. By the time the study ended, I was almost vomitting and about to faint. The girls had to send me home in my own car.

Was it worth it?

Yes.

Was it stupid?

My mom thinks so.



Dear God, people say I try too hard to live for You. That may be true, but I am not one who takes chances in these matters. If I die tomorrow, I sure want to hear the familiar voice again, but this time saying "Well done My faithful servant..."

A Bit(e) of Italy

I am not exactly a fan of Italian food, but given time and practice, I may just turn out to be one. Had some great Italiano at Buono Sera in SS2 Petaling Jaya. Good food, good company, good service and dessert to die for... mammamia!




Australian Rock Melon with cured Italian Parm ham. Appetizer not easily found in these parts...









Rosemary Chicken. The taste of fresh herbs permeated every part of the meat. My bro's favourite.











Seafood Spaghetti. Check out the giant shrimp and mussels. Has a wonderful homemade flavour.









Pork Sausages. One of the better ones I've tasted in a while.








My favourite - dessert! Homemade tiramisu with chocolate pot and vanilla ice-cream and rum & raisin gelato

Created for Something

So I rediscovered the meaning of shopping. And it is while I was filling up the first aid kit for the car. Strange that such a simple excursion would bring so much... satisfaction. Maybe it was the mental gymnastics trying to figure out what to put inside the box. Maybe it's because I know them things would serve a valuable function when needed. It is the assigned purpose for which each element in the box is created.

Kinda like humans.

Can only find fulfillment in knowing and doing what we have been created for.

Carlisle Remembered

A friend from Carlisle visited recently. He came with his mom to attend a wedding. We met for a meal and some sightseeing, and he brought me up to speed with some updates of the people I know and places I frequented. Looks like things have changed (as they would, for sure) in this town (or city, as Carlisleans call it), but mostly the place remains recognisable still.







St Paul's. My church for two years. Pastor Alan was quite a "happening fellow".

Streetshops: Never bought anything from this street...



Franco's: Walked past it every day, but never had the chance to eat there - could ill-afford it.

Market Square. Where I hungout every day during lunchtime, just to get a sense of having a crowd around me. Pathetic, I know...




Outside WH Smith: Summer blooms in full force. Took pix for my mom.

Different Kinda Hot

The first time I had authentic Szechuan (I hadn't known the ones I had before weren't the real McCoy), I started to palpitate. But it wasn't because I wasn't warned ... t'was more like I didn't believe that I could be outdone by some lame excuse for chilly from some province in China. Or so I thought. Well, we know where unbelief brings you. There weren't much sensation when I first ate the fishball cooked in super hot "mala" soup (the red soup with berries - actually different kinds of Szechuan chillies - floating on it), but a few seconds later, this sudden gush of piercing sensation shot right up my head. My heart started to beat fast and then, wildly. The pressure in my head felt like a reverse hangover, like someone twisted my neck and forced my head to pop. If you particularly like this kinda rush, then check out the Szechuan cuisine at Eric Paradise in Hartamas Shopping Centre. Make sure you tell the kitchen to prepare it hot and full strength.


Hot Pot set



Dessert - Mango pudding with sago and pomelo

Aftermath

Unplanned Conversation

Something unexpected happened today. I was talking to a new client over the phone during lunchtime, and the conversation went a totally unplanned direction.

It all started with me asking an innocent question:

MY: Hey, are you local?

Client: I am as Malaysian as can be, born and bred in this country. My great grandfather was a Scot though, and he brought the education system to Malaysia.

MY: Wow! What a rich heritage!

Client: Yeah, I am Chinese, and look very Chinese. How about you, eh?

MY: Well, according to my deceased uncle, my grandfather was escaping the authorities after killing someone in China. That's how he ended up in Malaysia and started a family.

Client: Wow, your grandparents still around?

MY: Nah, my grandma was the last survivor of that generation, and she died a couple years back.

Client: Sorry to hear that.

MY: It's ok, I will see her in heaven though.

Client: You a christian?

MY: Yeah, how about you?

Client: My dad is. I am a buddhist.

MY: What a coincidence. I was a buddhist before I became a christian. Looks like we've got reverse situations between us.

Client: Really? So how did you become a christian?

MY: (Shares an overview of the journey to faith)...

Client: No way, I can;t believe it... it sounds like a faitytale!

MY: Yeah, it does, doesn't it? But the thing is... it is TRUE...

Client: In that case, we'd better stop you from coming to our office *giggle* we don't want to get 'converted' *laughs* just kidding, ok? I am looking forward to develop a good working relationship with you, and also to get to know you as a person.

MY: Hey, same here. Really looking forward to working with you too.



Dear God, thanks for all those opportunities from time to time, and please continue to open my eyes and ears (and guide my speech!) so that in my clumsiness I don't screw up what You are already working on.

To move or not to move?

I had been losing sleep over this issue with my church lately. Should I move or should I stay? What is God saying (or NOT saying)? Should i just be content and "comfortable"? Living my life quietly and minding my own business? What is God's take?

Questions, questions....

Sibling Talk

Why do people have discourses? I dunno, but I sure am going to ask my brother (the Discourse King) about it one day when I get myself untangled from our conversations. To be honest, it's kinda fun talking to my bro, and the multi-way conversation between the family usually tapers off to a dialogue between siblings. We would be the last two people taking differing positions on the same issue. (My family, with the exception of my dad sometimes, don't have much of an opinion on / could not really be bothered - much - with most things that irk me).

The state of national education, the Da Vinci Code, Prosperity Gospel... anything to the price of beans. Once we got started, it would heighten to a debate, which would least interest the family pet fish but nevertheless necessary coz as much as I hate to admit it, my bro has a logical mind (which I congenitally lack) that I hope would sharpen my deficiencies by regular contact.

Has it worked? I really don't know. But I do know that I am in awe logically-inclined people. Namely coz I am not one. But I think God is fair. My brother doesn't daydream that well, so his life has somewhat less hues than mine. Hah.

Mutual Influence

I have my friend Blanche to thank for introducing me to European cinema. (She's the one with shades in the photo, taken at the Edinburgh Jazz Festival).



I was a HK & Hollywood film junkie before Blanche came into my life. Met her on the street one day and we just caught on like dry sticks to bonfire. She was studying textile, but much preferred fine art and wasn't really sure what she would do with her degree.

We spent most weekends scouring the library dry renting every piece of European film we could lay our hands on. Never mind we could not understand what was spoken (thank God for subtitles!), it felt close to heaven just soaking in the ambience from the 14-inch noisebox at home, which became a ritual of sorts after a while. We were living and breathing films and even had people over to share the obsession, although some of them petered out after a while.

My first European movie was White from Kieslovsky's classic epic Three Colours. Had a strange feeling after watching it, and then I wanted more. And more. Discussions would ensue after each viewing and it got more intense and stimulating over time.

Blanche and I parted when I left England for good after finishing my 2-year commitment with a Christian organisation. The day before I left, she stayed over for the night and helped me pack. As my transport to the airport arrived, we hugged and said goodbye. She watched me get in the vehicle and I looked as she disappeared around the corner.

Whilst I grew to appreciate the depth, realism and stark reality often portrayed in independant films, Blanche, the last I heard, has gone back to Hong Kong (her birthplace) and enrolled in a Bible seminary. She is now working with young people trying to find their place and meaning in this world.

Happy Food

Aaah... check these out. Had a meal with some friends at The Rakuzen in KL. (clockwise starting at 12: Sashimi, Dragon Roll, Beef slices, Salad, Hotate)

Bento

Dessert

The entire meal was 3 hours long, plus dessert. By the time the bento arrived, we were stuffed silly and unable to consume even one more morsel. Happy but satisfied, I left the restaurant, only to spend another 3 hours in Dome with a longtime friend discussing deity and religion.

Aaah... a day well spent!

Grace Sufficient

Today is my second day in bed. Severe tummy cramps and headache. An ongoing menstrual condition for many years. Everytime I bleed, I collapse on bed in pain... ALL DAY AND NIGHT (sometimes two). During these times I often wonder why my grand plans for hysterectomy didn't hatch; maybe it was because of protests from everyone who knows. But then again, I am hardly one who adheres to popular opinion.

However, this morning a radical thought flashed across my mind. I have never thanked God for menstruating. Always seen it an inconvenient body function, a hindrance, a pain, a curse of fallen (wo)mankind if you will. But I have never thanked God for having a normal body. And Paul said we are to give thanks in all situations.

OK, fine. So I thanked God for my menstrual pain. I really did, in all sincerity and honesty, I burst out in heartfelt gratitude to God despite what I was feeling.

Well, I wish I could say that the pain went away immediately, I was transformed and given a spanking new body with perfectly-formed organs draped over by flawless cellulite-free skin. I wish I could declare that the pain that plagued me every month for years and years was finally gone, and I can go around telling everyone how God has healed me. What a great testimony! What faith it will build in its hearers!

The reality was - the pain grew worse and I could not even go downstairs to eat (much).

Paul also spoke of a thorn in his flesh. We all can relate to that, I suppose, to some degree. Everyone has one embedded somewhere, some of us have more. There is something in God's reply that was universal too. "My grace is sufficient for you."

Is this some kinda joke? What kinda cold, uncaring retort is that supposeda be? Did someone mistakenly slip this statement in the Bible? Why won't God spare us the pain? He loves His children, doesn't He?

To be fair, God didn't spare His son either, when he hung on the cross and bled. And guess who he died for.

Then when I think about it, I am actually thanking Him for the privilege of the pain that helps me draw nearer to Him in a helpless, dependant sort of way. Makes me sound like a loser and wimp, but that's ok. Christians live in an upside down world where the first shall be the last, and what is important in this world (money, fame, health, status, etc) is but a passing vapour in the eyes of eternity. The bigger question is: Am I living like His grace is sufficient?

Gulp.

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Pokhara: Woman finding respite from the afternoon heat. Just a short distance away, the astoundingly beautiful landscape of the Annapurna range beckons - snow-capped peaks, crystal clear lakes, turbulent rivers with deep gorges and Tibetian monasteries.

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Pokhara: This lady in Tibetian-inspired garb is quite someways from home.

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Kakarvitta (Indian-Nepali border): Young girl, about 4-years old, was running around in tattered garments, playing with an old comb. This is my favourite expression - carefree, innocent and full of possibilites for the future.

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Kathmandu: A woman watches as the world passes her by at the market square.

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Pokhara: Passed from one generation to the next, carpetry is a trade involving long hours, nimble fingers, a good eye for detail and an abundance of patience.

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Pokhara: It is not easy earning his keep, as this elderly peddlar found out. As his wares are targeted at locals, his market in this tourist town is considerably curtailed. Nevertheless, it seemed a good way of ekeing out a living.

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Terai, near Chitwan National Park: "Namaste" means 'may the gods be with you', a standard greeting in Nepal, equivalent to a hello.

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Kathmandu: So what if the gods don't sleep. Local shamans need to take a break. Especially when the afternoon gets long and ... drowsy.

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Kathmandu: Found this woman outside the temple in Durbar Square. She's probably used to foreigners (aplenty in Thamel), but still stared intently at the camera. Being the only Hindu kingdom nation, Nepalese are deeply religious and there are plenty of shrines and places of worship scattered around Kathmandu.

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Kathmandu: Man selling his ware at the busy market of Thamel, where the souk is a perpetual maze of shops, peddlers, restaurants, motorcycles, bicycles, trishaws, tourists and locals. The smells, sounds and sights of this place make great distraction for the traveller en route to the Himalayas and Annapurna.

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Terai, near Chitwan National Park: Children gathered to play and gawk at the camera on a dusty gravel road one hot December afternoon.

A boy enjoying his burden.

These excellent photos were taken by my friend Adriel McIntosh.

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Pokhara: Handwashing her clothes by the alley next to a busy street, this elderly lady shyly obliged for the camera lens.




Despite being the "Disneytown" (re:tourist trap) in Nepal where prices are escalated, poverty is commonplace amongst its folk. 'Retirement' is a hardly-known term for the elderly.

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Deep at the foot of the Himalayans, the border of the Kingdom of Sikkim and Tibet: A very young girl carries her infant sibling as she climbed up the hillslope. They do not go to school. The nearest school was miles away, and had no electricity nor water. Her parents worked at the farm. This girl helped to care for her younger siblings. They served salt tea to visitors (no cream). Respect for the local 'Lama' is prevalent and runs deep. "He helps us protect our crops".

Cholesterol City!

Had this (amongst plenty others) for dinner two weeks back at a restaurant in town. Good thing I didn't wipe off the entire plate. Would have needed a plunger to unclog the arteries.

Thru the Lens

Sometimes things become clearer when we use the right lens. This photo was taken several years back in my bedroom in Carlisle, England. I used my old faithful Nikon F50 SLR (a relic now by most standards) with a Sigma-compatible lens mounted.

It worked fine. Did the job despite the heavy beating it took with my crazy travelling schedule back then. I am so used to its timing, settings and everything else that it is getting hard to adjust to a digital counterpart.

OK, OK... given that film cameras are going the way of the typewriter, I am still clinging to my old faithful contraption. After all, it gave me countless snaps of great (and some totally disastrous) shots, and it stuck with me through all the abuse across the foot of the Himalayas to the summer nights at the train stations in Europe to the slums of India and back again to the rainforests of Malaysia. And all that was in between too.

Through the lens of this camera I saw the world. And myself.

I guess one day, I would really have to put aside my film cam and go totally digital... more cost and time effective. But as for now, I am allowing myself to linger...

Go Local

Was at the MATTA fair this weekend with LP and we scoured every available booth selling packages to Egypt. Turned out the cheapest trip was going to blow our budget. Sigh. Blame it on the fuel hike. Malaysian Airlines' profitable route's gonna stay that way to bail out the rest of their no-gooders. Sheeesh...

We were pretty tired after walking around the two main halls and decided to eat instead. Started to exit the building when it began to drizzle. Looked as if we were in for a thunderstorm. So we went back inside and had nasi lemak instead.

By then both of us were fizzled out, LP from disappointment and I from hunger. I wasn't really that disappointed - God must have wanted me to steward my resources in other ways; by using the travel funds elsewhere. It's cool.

Anyways, we decided to go inside Hall 3 to see what's going on. They have some really nice local tours. LP spotted the Kenyir package. I wasn't really that keen, as I had been there before, trekked up the waterfall, visited the caves, survived a raging river with deep undercurrents, fell into the lake while riding the jetski, ran into a really frightening thunderstorm which almost sank our boat, camped at an elephant feeding site, etc, etc... (fun!)

So we booked the Kenyir package, which is open for occupancy all year. Great. Now we can drive across Peninsula and just lepak while sinking our teeth into all those wonderful Terengganu / Kelantan delicacies.

Sinai, Sinai...

Oh no... now that I've discovered St. Catherine's monastery in Sinai, I'll just have to go there. After all, if I am going to Cairo, Alexandria, Luxor and Aswan, what's a little trip eastward to the shores of the Red Sea and then to Mt Sinai???

LP and I spent 3 hours at Borders last Sunday after church so we could pore over every single travel book on Egypt that we could lay our hands on. We wanted to get the Lonely Planet (the ultimate travel bible), but the last print was Jan 2004's and the next one will only be published in May. So we piled up all the other travel guides, settled on the sofa and started ploughing. Of course the staff were none too happy when we turned our sofas to face each other, but they didn't stop us. Hah!

Result - must-go places: Egyptian museum (yay!!!), Islamic & Coptic Cairo, Pyramids of Giza. Fayoum Oasis. Thebes. Karnak. Valley of the Kings (yipee!!!), Temples of Seti, Rameses, Hatsheput, Abu Simbel (if we can make it that far... it's near the Sudanese border).

LP thinks I am nuts. I think she's a killjoy. All I could think of when I turned the pages of colourful artifacts and landscapes were how and when I am gonna get there to photograph them; and all LP said was, "how much is this gonna cost, how much do we have to pay..." I guess we come from different planets. But complementary ones, mind you.

Anyways, I would love to be able to get to Sinai, climb up the mount and do some camping. After spending more than a year studying the life of Moses, a field trip would be a perfect wrap to that experience. :)

Wow... imagine just standing at the shores of the Red Sea and facing the vast impossibility, like what Moses experienced before the parting. Ok, ok... so I am a hopelessly romantic dreamer, but hey, it's free and who knows, maybe I will get to stand on the ground where Moses once stood and relive in my mind's eye the miraculous deliverance of the Lord.