ThirtyOne

BF 'Graduation Trip': Kenyir 2011

2012-01-30T15:17:00.002+08:00

Last June, the BF classmates made a trip to the other side of the Peninsula. It was a so-called 'graduation trip', as most of us had either already graduated, or were graduating very soon. We descended upon Lake Kenyir (thanks, Phon, for putting everything together!) in Terengganu, a man-made lake some four times bigger than Singapore.

It was a full four days on the East Coast, from the morning of the 15th, through the deep night of the 18th.

Val may have been the first to blog about the trip, here. On the same day, I put some of my phone camera footage on the BF blog here. These were followed by Mel's post here, and Fiona's three-part saga—parts one, two and three. Being the lazy parasite that I am, I will leave the words to them: I have little of my own to add, and I must admit that between the three of them they've covered all the major bases!

I would just like to echo something they all said, that it is indeed the company that makes the trip. We spent four days floating on a houseboat in a lake big enough to be a sea; there was little variety in the sights and sounds (unlike tours that stop at a thousand places), and yet, each day was different in its own way, each place we docked wearing a character entirely of its own.

The houseboat was operated by the excellent Captain Alward and his staff. Val put their website on her blog, and you can access it here as well. In case the URL changes, their email is kenyirone[at]yahoo[dot]com, or you can call +6-012-383-8337 or +6-016-363-6171.

* * *

The Sultan Mahmud Airport in Kuala Terengganu.

One of the most beautiful airports in the country, a successful marriage of traditional motifs and modern functionality. This is what architecture is all about, I feel; not the soulless, sterile, modern airports in many parts of the world.

AirAsia.

A successful shot of an AirAsia plane on the tarmac. Their staff are usually very vigilant when it comes to stopping tourists from taking pictures while on the tarmac. Using a manual camera, I pre-focused this shot and set the exposure, spinning around in a split second to capture Phak Hoe and Pui Pui with the aircraft in the background.

Nasi dagang and friends.

One of my all-time favourite Malaysian foods. Ever since I first had nasi dagang in Mersing (May 2007) I fell in love with it. Move over Hainanese chicken rice, nasi kerabu and even nasi lemak!

The van driver (I think his name was Che Wan) brought us to this stall in the outskirts of town where he grew up for breakfast. It was one of the loveliest breakfasts ever, with nasi dagang, nasi kunyit, nasi minyak and a generous selection of curries, including the king of them all: gulai ikan tongkol (a type of local tuna, curried East Coast style).

Pengkalan Gawi.

The jetty from which we boarded the houseboat was little more than a sheltered platform on the water, and that's the houseboat approaching from the left of the jetty. They are self-constructed vessels, with kitchen, toilets and mess area on the lower level and sleeping rooms on the upper.

We spent most of our time on the deck, however, which is the best place to enjoy the sights, sounds and breeze—not to mention, fish at night!

Kenyir was once a hilly forest. When the government flooded the area, the peaks of those hills became the numerous islands in the lake. They range in size from tiny, isolated pieces of land, to larger forested tracts.

Saok Waterfall.

On the first evening, we harboured at Saok. The afternoon was spent at the waterfall, which has numerous little pools and is relatively easy to navigate.

Group picture at Saok.

This was a lot harder to achieve than it appears. We were all practically freezing (especially evident on Fiona's face) and Phak Hoe had to endure quite a heavy cascade of water on his back. Moreover, we had to hold still during the 1-second (or was it 2?) exposure.

Baung delight.

Wai Loon showing off his catch that night. The baung is a type of catfish, and we had quite an abundance of that, both in the catches and on the lunch/dinner table. One of the highlights of the trip was super-fresh Kenyir fish at our meals!

Boats at dawn.

Three outboard boats were towed along with the houseboat. These were used to ferry us to our destinations on land, like the waterfalls and caves.

Kian Ti.

Wai Loon.

Len Yi.

Tsu Wern, Li Ling and Fiona.

Polariser + red filter = sheer black-and-white bliss. Skin and water textures scarcely get better than this.

Kenyir Dam.

This is the 'great wall' that hems the entire lake in. Water flows beyond this wall into the hydroelectric facility below.

Tranquility.

Li Ling at Lasir Falls.

One of the cascades at Lasir.

While Saok was nice to wade in, Lasir was something quite different. A rather high waterfall, it called for a good deal of hiking to get to the upper regions of the falls. All that power, the sense that we were really standing at the edge of the water cycle, of water flowing into the lake, of a source of Kenyir's awesomeness.

The pools at Lasir were much larger and deeper than those at Saok; we could actually dive into one of the lower pools. We had a lengthy and enjoyable afternoon at Lasir, and harboured there for the night.

Suspension bridge at Lasir.

Mel.

Our first significant experience of Mel's no-nonsense, 'aggressive' photo direction. Must be all the practice from those journalism assignments.

Twister!

I can't remember who brought it, but we had much fun contorting our bodies and demonstrating our flexibility and athletic prowess—or lack thereof. ;-)

We spent the third evening in the vicinity of Taman Negara itself; the southern region of Kenyir is in the northern part of the Taman Negara complex, which spans Pahang, Terengganu and Kelantan.

Bewah Cave.

A significant archaeological site, the Bewah Cave was somewhat dead apart from the huge spiders and occasional bats. A boardwalk navigated the guano-laden cave floor, but it was pretty much just a single giant pitch-black chamber.

The limestone formations at the entrance of the cave, such as in this picture, were somewhat more interesting and photo-worthy.

Taat Cave.

The Taat Cave is unusual in that it is sometimes submerged, especially during the rainy/monsoon season. When we visited, it was accessible. It felt infinitely more 'alive' than Bewah, although much smaller and less cavernous. There were many roosting bats, and Phon and I encountered a snake as well.

The view in this picture is of the entrance to the cave, as seen from the first chamber.

We spent the night across from Taat, near an active campsite. After the cave visit, Phon, Val and I trekked into the nearby forest, where we came across elephant footprints and left with plenty of leeches in tow. Kian Ti accompanied Wai Loon to a nearby tributary to fish.

That night, and incredible storm descended upon us. The boat was stripped from its lashings, and collided with one of the mighty submerged tree stumps nearby. It took a rather valiant effort from Captain Alward and his men to re-secure the boat to shore.

Kenyir at dawn.

In the early hours of morning, at first light, everything is a light pastel blue, and the reflections are nearly perfect. These stumps are the tops of once-great trees, some very tall, drowned forever in the waters of Kenyir.

View on the return journey.

Kenyir lies 177 metres above sea level, which explains the cold nights and dense mist in the mornings.

Fiona.

Tsu Wern and Val.

Val: There's plenty of travelling time [here] for you to contemplate life.
Ben: Life is not about dangling your legs off the edge of the boat. It's about dipping your toes in the water.
Val: Why dip your toes when you can jump right in?

Soo Ee.

One of my biggest regrets on the trip was not jumping into the water to rescue Soo's t-shirt, which flew off one of the rails while left to dry. I can't imagine why I hesitated, when every muscle in my body and every subconscious thought dictated that I should jump.

Captain Alward (in photochromic glasses) and his crew.

Upon our return we lunched in Chinatown before heading to Phon's sister's house. The evening was spent at Pantai Batu Buruk.

Kite seller with sotong kite.

It was my first time actually flying a kite, and it was an unforgettable experience for all of us. Mel has a beautiful picture of that experience here.

Phon and sister.

Many thanks to Phon's sister and her boyfriend for hosting us that evening, for dinner, and for taking us to the airport in record time.

At the airport, we were somewhat harassed by the AirAsia counter staff, who made us rush and all as we barely missed the check-in deadline. The irony of it, though, was that the flight ended up delayed by a whole THREE hours. When we arrived at the airport departure lounge, the plane was still grounded in LCCT. When it finally took off, poor weather forced a U-turn back to LCCT.

So it was, that while Phon, Len Yi, Mel and Li Ling had comfortably boarded their Firefly flight, the rest of us had to endure till past midnight at a barely-happening airport; long waits are a little more bearable in 'theme park' airports like Changi.

Home at last.

That's the rest of us in LCCT, looking deader than dead, at about nearly 3.00 a.m.

(That gash down the right side of the picture was, I believe, caused by the clip as I hung the film strip to dry. For some reason I did not notice that I'd clipped into the frame, instead of at the edge of the roll. On the other hand, it lends a certain authenticity to the photograph—that it's 'real', and not just some binary code that is meaningless outside a digital device.)

* * *

Technical matters:

Early colour shots on Ektar 100, later colour shots on Portra 400. Pictures at Lasir Waterfall shot on Velvia 50. All B&W footage shot on TriX 400.

A polariser was used for the Lasir Waterfall shots (and perhaps for Saok also), the Kenyir Dam and a number of the daytime lake shots, to decrease surface reflection and—in the case of the lake shots—intensify the 'body' of the water. A red filter was used in tandem with the polariser for some of the B&W shots, resulting in deep contrast and unusually fair skin.

Nikon FM10 with 28mm and 105mm lenses.

SEATRU 2011

2012-01-29T10:30:00.000+08:00

When Jia Hui asked if I would like to join Poh Fong, Chern Zhong and her on SEATRU, I immediately jumped at the offer. I think it was Steph Yiau who first told me about it—could've been during the Pangkor 2009 trip—but I never got down to doing it during my undergradaute days.

No longer a student, I had to pay the full fee last year (RM700 for food and board). But it wasn't the kind of opportunity that comes every other day, least of all with a group of friends.

SEATRU is the turtle conservation programme run by Universiti Malaysia Terengganu (UMT). Every nesting season (roughly April to September), they have openings for volunteers, typically no more than eight volunteers a week. There's a lot more about SEATRU, and how to volunteer, on their blog here.

Ours was Slot J, 4-11 June 2011.

* * *

Jia Hui, Poh Fong, Chern Zhong and I met up in KL Sentral on Friday, 3 June, to take the bus to the LCCT for our flight to Kuala Terengganu (KT). Fellow volunteer Cassey (University of Nottingham, Malaysia campus) also met us there; she had gotten in touch with Chern Zhong, having tracked him down on Facebook or something.

We spent the night in KT and took a taxi the next morning to meet the rest—the three boys from the Multimedia University (MMU), and programme research assistants Lionel and Yana—at the UMT campus.

There, we were taken on a brief tour of the campus by some of the Marine Biology/Marine Science students who had showed up to say hello.

Back: Poh Fong, Cassey, Yew Kiat, Xavier, Khoon Foo

Front: Jia Hui, Ben, Chern Zhong

The eight of us, with relatively fair skin compared to the tanned complexion we would all have by the end of the week.

(Can't remember who took the picture, though.)

Now, for a brief run-through on the daily routine at Chagar Hutang, the tranquil northern coast of Redang where SEATRU is based.

First, turtles mate. Alright, this wasn't exactly daily routine, but we encountered this pair on the way back from the round-island snorkelling trip (which wasn't devoid of its own drama—but more on that later).

The pair had surfaced for air, which is a relatively uncommon phenomenon to observe. But of course, turtles being reptiles, they still breathe through lungs. Without a gas exchange system that can function in water, they need to surface for air every now and then.

A nesting female preparing the burrow in which to lay her eggs.

Their flippers are extremely strong, an a first-hand encounter with the might of the swing can be a rather painful experience.

Observing a nesting turtle as she lays her eggs.

In order not to distract or disturb the turtle, we usually sit at a distance while the turtle prepares her nest, and only approach once she starts laying her eggs or so, at which point she would typically not abort the 'mission' anymore. Also, red light (instead of the usual yellow or white lights) is used as it is less glaring; not all torch lights have this feature, but the Energizer headlamp does.

The entire process from landing to camouflaging (covering the nest with sand) and returning to sea can take up to three or four hours. For this reason, turtles usually land before midnight. To land later would mean completing the nesting by dawn, at which time it would already be quite bright.

Turtle tracks.

While these are easy to spot in the day, the challenge is to look out for them at night, during our hourly patrols of the beach. It is one of the ways—short of actually seeing the turtle—by which we identify that a turtle has landed. Because the patrols are only done hourly, a turtle may have worked her way rather inland by the time of the next patrol.

The locations of the nests are marked at night, but detailed location data (e.g., coordinates) are only taken the next morning. The nests are also covered in mesh netting to prevent predation by large animals such as the monitor lizard.

Excavation of nests.

This is usually done in the evening, during which we excavate nests that have incubated for more than 40 days. By then, some of the eggs would be expected to have hatched. Thereafter, the nests are checked at an interval of three days.

(Photo possibly by Yoong Khang.)

If all is well, this is what we should see: a mix of hatchlings and unhatched eggs, in good condition. One of the frequently encountered problems is attack by ants, which love the juicy, meaty, helpless hatchlings. When a nest is discovered to be under ant attack, the hatchlings are either relocated to a different spot, or completely excavated and kept in a shaded container pending manual release to the sea.

Lionel re-buries the hatchlings.

Sometimes, hatchlings are found quite near the surface, in which case they will be expected to undertake their exodus into the ocean within a day or two—more typically, that very night itself. They are re-buried so that they may only emerge when it is dark; the light can really mess up their navigation instinct.

Excavated turtle hatchlings in the container trays.

The average turtle hatchling is no larger than the palm of your hand (or the hand of a small person), and their shells are relatively soft. It is difficult to imagine that these young ones may someday grow into one of the most massive and impressive creatures of the sea.

Part of our daily routine involves making sure that people don't land on the Chagar Hutang beach, including, and especially, tourists.

At the beginning and the end of our week on Chagar Hutang, we carried out gotong royong along the entire 1-kilometre stretch of the beach. Most of the litter is washed up from the distant ocean, and we even found some Vietnamese bottles among the rocks on the western end of the beach.

Turtles are not the only animals encountered at Chagar Hutang.

Comel the squirrel was a regular at the kitchen/dining area in the afternoons. He/she is a rather fat rodent (no prizes for guessing the food source), shy as squirrels are wont to be, but also a sucker for a snack.

The elusive monitor lizard.

They will scavenge for anything, and are frequently seen in the afternoons (when everyone is asleep) near the charred excavation remnants. After every nest excavation, the hatched shells, discarded eggs and dead hatchlings are burnt so as not to allow rotting and attract flies.

I managed a few shots; stalking monitor lizards is by no means an easy feet, and this particular effort required some careful balancing on wooden beams, as well as willful ignorance of Chern Zhong's calls.

The even more elusive mousedeer.

This was arguably the highlight of all the afternoon stalking. It was on the afternoon of the fifth day (Wednesday) that some of us (I think Yoong Khang and Jol Ern were there) noticed a mousedeer, or kancil, prowling about the rubbish pile near the bench at the entrance. We immediately crept up to Lionel's 'office' and took sniper-like positions behind the low wooden walls.

The mousedeer is a very shy and alert animal, and is very sensitive to movement. We couldn't get any closer, and so we had to patiently wait for it to come near again, having darted off a few times into the nearby forest.

It was, I think, my first face-to-face encounter with a mousedeer in the wild.

Hermit crabs were relatively abundant on the shore as well as near the kitchen and at the charring 'pits', scavenging, like the monitor lizards, for anything and everything.

Crabs—usually ghost crabs—were also commonly encountered, though much more difficult to catch. These are among the predators of turtle eggs, snipping them open with their large claws and helping themselves to the yummy egg contents.

Zetty, a UMT student doing her final-year project/thesis on crabs, was based in Chagar Hutang for the semester break, along with her coursemate Yoong Khang, who was working on weighing turtles (using an imposing contraption that took four to five full-sized men to operate effectively).

We had, true to the description in the volunteer handbook, a lot of free time during the day (which is punctuated only by occasional patrol duty and rotational cooking duties). Most of the hard turtle work was only done in the evenings and at night.

Pasta a la Lionel.

There were some fun cookouts, and this was one of them. Everyone usually chipped in to prepare the meals.

Round the table, from left: Cassey, Chern Zhong, Jia Hui, Poh Fong, Yoong Khang, Yew Kiat, Khoon Foo, Xavier, Zetty, Jol Ern and Lionel.

Candlelit nights in the dining area.

Lionel and Jol Ern (a USM graduate student conducting research at Chagar Hutang), being the 'bosses', would sit/sleep in the dining area/office (which doubled as a sleeping space), while the hourly patrols—after midnight—would take turns keeping an eye on the beach.

From 8.00pm until midnight, patrols were done as a group. We did have some inventive variations on that theme (especially with four teachers in the company!), such as patrols by prime/non-prime numbers; we each had a number, according to our list on the roster.

Tuesday night was particularly memorable. We were huddled up in the office as it was raining heavily outside, and thus, no one could go on patrol and no turtles were likely to land anyway. Seated in a circle, we told stories, and it was there that I came up with a practically random long story about the Sky Kingdom (nothing to do with Ayah Pin!) and the Sea Kingdom. It was also on this occasion that a number of the motifs for my short story, 'The Sky is Blue', came about.

The short poem 'All Our Scars are Stories' was written in response to Cassey's injury the day before.

On Monday, we went on a round-island snorkelling trip. At our first stop, I jumped into the water with my camera held above the water, and began swimming to the nearby island, from which I hoped to get some nice shots.

I was some distance from the boat when some of the others noticed I had my camera with me and started exclaiming. It was then that Cassey suddenly realised her camera (a Panasonic Lumix LX3 or LX5) was still slung in its case, round her neck, beneath the life jacket. She immediately climbed back into the boat, and I followed suit to assess the damage.

She'd put on her life jacket earlier, forgetting—probably in the midst of all the excitement—to take the camera off her neck first. It was drenched, in sea water no less, and so we emptied someone's water bottle—the freshest water we could find—into a pail and left the camera to soak in it.

But this was nothing compared to what happened next. Cassey turned around to go back into the water, accidentally slicing her leg, near the shin, on a jutting metal hinge below the cushioned seats of the boat. (In retrospect, that hinge should have been checked for before we embarked; I guess no one thought something like this could happen.)

With some immediate first-aid (hand sanitiser alcohol and my Nikon t-shirt as makeshift bandage), we were rushed off by boatman and staff-on-duty Mahadi to the nearby Laguna Beach Resort, where we hoped to find a doctor. We were very quickly attended to by the very competent Dr Rupar Kyi Tin (of Myanmar), who immediately treated the wound and stitched it up.

That put paid to Cassey's snorkelling over the next two or three days, but later in the week she was back in the sea with the best protection waterproof plasters could afford.

Siesta.

Our accommodation was in the form of mats (not mattresses) in wooden huts, but never once did I sleep in the huts. The afternoons were, more often than not, spent in the hammocks outside the huts, while my nights were mostly spent on the beach itself, which is so beautiful beneath all the stars that, after a week of shared stargazing experiences with the others—especially staff members like Mahadi—I left my copy of Ian Ridpath's Stars and Planets at Chagar Hutang. (I've yet to get a replacement, in fact!)

The river behind the SEATRU base, from which we got our supply of freshwater.

Further upstream, there were a series of small cascades, and a decent-sized pool which was dubbed the 'Prawn Spa' on account of the small crustaceans that would come and nibble at our feet, in the same way the fish of today's popular fish spas do.

Jia Hui on the beach.

It was Wednesday morning at 6.30am, and the dawn sky was the most gorgeous it would get that whole week. I was asleep in the dining area and immediately ran out with my camera, to find that Jia Hui was already there. But I ended up missing some of the best colours due to some fumbling with the gorillapod and cable release.

Thursday afternoon was spent hiking up to 'Turtle Rock', the eastern cape of Chagar Hutang, a very awesome, 'top of the world' experience.

View of the ocean from near the peak of Turtle Rock. When they use words like 'azure', 'turquoise' or 'crystal' to describe water, this is what I imagine it to be, and so much more.

And the plants and shrubs that cling to the rocks, typical of windswept islands. Such a metaphor for life! Life that is not always cosy and comfortable, life that is meant for the living and the roughing it out.

Mann against the sea.

It was he who carved out the trail to Turtle Rock many years ago; he and Mahadi have been with SEATRU for over 14 years, if I'm not mistaken.

Cassey and the souvenir rock we left behind; every group leaves something behind, either an inscription on cloth, on wood, or something of the sort.

Hawksbill Turtle.

Two species of turtle are known to nest on Chagar Hutang, the Green Turtle and the much rarer Hawksbill. It was the final night, Friday, and all we'd seen so far were Green Turtles. When we least expected it, a Hawksbill landed that night, and someone—I think it was Chern Zhong—roused me from my sleep to see it.

It was certainly the perfect end to an already unbelievable week.

SEATRU Slot J, 2011.

Back: Mahadi, Mann, Chern Zhong and Lionel.

Middle: Khoon Foo, Yew Kiat, Jia Hui, Zetty, Jol Ern, Poh Fong and Xavier.

Front: Ben, Cassey and Yoong Khang.

Back in the 'real world', things were not nearly as rosy.

The snorkelling rush.

Snorkellers at the stretch of beach near the Laguna Beach Resort. Sometimes I wonder, when you've got nearly a hundred people in the sea with you, what do you expect to see, seriously? Mass tourism may work for huge theme parks, but for viewing nature up-close?

Turtle eggs being sold at the Pasar Payang in KT.

Demand for this delicacy is apparently still alive and well. One of the methods of consumption involves boiling in pandan water.

Egg poachers are among the greatest threats to the survival of turtles; it is so difficult for a female to surface and nest, and even harder for hatchlings to survive in the cruel ocean, that removal of eggs from their nests is virtually guaranteed to bring about the swift extinction of this venerable reptile.

Waiting for the bus, KT.

The bus was suspiciously delayed; it was there in the bay, but the driver was nowhere to be found. It was later learned that the 30-minute delay was due to the Kelantan-Terengganu football match, which, thankfully, Terengganu won. Had the state team lost, I have no idea what sort of mood the driver would've been in!

Another reason for my not liking buses: we purchased tickets (via the internet, and much earlier at that) for what was supposed to be an 'above-average' bus, with rows of three seats (the 2+1 sort), but we got a normal four-in-a-row bus instead.

Jia Hui and B031, Klang Bus Station.

We arrived really early in the morning (was it 5.30am?) at the Putra Bus Station (Hentian Putra), and waited quite a long time for the Komuter (a longish queue at the ticket machines) to Bandar Tasik Selatan, where we saw Poh Fong off.

I then dropped Jia Hui off at the Klang Bus Station, where she took a bus to Banting to meet with Adelene. It wasn't long after that, I think, that the Klang Bus Station was decommissioned; so this became yet another 'last' of recent years.

SEATRU was, on the whole, such an enriching and educational experience. I thought of doing it again this year, but then I learnt that Lionel is no longer there. It won't be quite the same; not returning to see a friend as I'd hoped it to be.

* * *

Technical matters:

I can see why professional wildlife shooters would appreciate cameras like the Nikon D3s, with fantastic high ISO performance. There really is no other way to shoot phenomena like nesting turtles without using external lights, which would disturb the turtles.

B&W images shot on TriX, colour on Fuji Xtra 400. Photos after leaving Chagar Hutang shot on Kodak ColorPlus 200, which I purchased at the Laguna Redang Resort. N80 camera with 50mm and 70-210mm lenses, on which polarising and yellow filters were frequently used, respectively.

The Sky is Blue

2012-01-28T06:02:00.003+08:00

I rarely put my extended writings up on this blog, but since this other piece is easily accessible on the internet, I thought, why not?

'The Sky is Blue' is a short story I wrote last year for The Sun's 'Malaysia & Me' Merdeka essay-writing competition in July. It won one of seven consolation prize; Ai Wei and Pik Tze also won consolation prizes.

The author and his mother (Photo: Ai Wei)

With Ai Wei and Pik Tze (Photo: Mum)

It was Tim who brought the competition to my attention, although at that time I didn't have anything to write about. But then, some things happened in July for which I felt the only way to adequately deal with, was through the writing of a story.

The story's metaphors and devices were inspired by the week I spent in June, volunteering for SEATRU at Chagar Hutang, Redang. The subject matter, on the other hand, encompasses themes as diverse as motherhood, growing up, coming to terms with expectations and, perhaps by a slightly longer shot, deciding for whom you will actually live out your life.

Tee Ming found it a lot more disjointed than 'Evanescent Shadows', and I suppose it's true. I wrote it in the span of two days (having collected ideas for a slightly longer time than that), and there wasn't any time for revision or external proofreading. Still, it pretty much captures a lot of the intense thoughts and feelings I was dealing with at the time, and I am as proud of it as anything I have ever written.

* * *

Turtle crawling back to sea at dawn, last day at SEATRU

The Sky is Blue

A Monologue

She had crawled through a desert of sand, descending a hill’s worth of beach to where the sea called out to her, with only the reflection of the moon on the surface of the waters to guide the way. Too blind to see, too deaf to hear: all she knew was that she had to swim, swim for dear life, swim for all her barely-there limbs could carry her. One minute surrounded by brothers and sisters whom she knew were there, though she could neither hear nor see them clearly; the next, alone against the deep dark abyss.

Between the hither and the further shore lay the ocean—the greatest continent—for that which we call land is but the visible mass of peaks of an underwater world without borders.

* * *

Death almost always heralds an acceleration in one’s growing up, a painful coming-of-age for children and teenagers—those to whom death is otherwise most remote. I am neither a child nor a teenager, but when news of my mother’s death in a car accident reached me a few days ago, it felt just like the slap in your face that tells you to stop dreaming and start getting ready for school. And school was where we stood at attention early in the morning, barely awake, mumbling the Negaraku as it solemnly marked the beginning of the day.

I grew up listening to two theories about that line in the national anthem—“tanah tumpah darahku”. One claimed that it meant ‘native land’, and the other, the ‘land for which we sacrifice our lives’. My mother always thought differently; “Land where my blood is being spilled lah! Vomit blood only, looking after you, your sister and your brother!” And so the tale would be accompanied by the crack of whatever kitchen apparatus there was—spatula, ladle, rolling pin—on flesh, for we did not have canes at home.

All our scars are stories, and while none of those disciplinary beatings left any long-term marks, the ‘scars’ that haunted me for the longest time, and I think will continue to, now that I can never fully resolve them—the dead don’t talk to you—are the instructions we followed without ever questioning.

Like when Mother said my sister, once she had a boyfriend, was no longer to see her male friends on a one-on-one basis, because it “wasn’t nice”. And I could never figure out what this “not nice” was all about. Little did I know then that that maternal edict was not exclusive to older siblings, and when the time came I too found myself face to face with that most indisputable of parental pronouncements. Those two words were a multi-purpose command by which the parent surreptitiously implied that the child had somehow transgressed some unspoken social or familial norm—had somehow committed an indecency—though this was never followed by any sort of justification or reasoning. It was a weapon of limitless impunity, ready to be deployed at a moment’s notice, or even on a whim. Long before I’d ever heard of the Malaysian acronym, “ISA”, I knew it by a different name: the Ibubapa Security Act.

So many years later, when I look back, I wonder if our country’s sometime draconian stances have their root in our paternalistic culture. If grandparents and parents believe they have the right of influence upon the generations to come, is it then so strange to see the same habits in some of our ‘grandfather’ leaders? The great Asian Throne Dream—and Malaysia is no exception—seems to be the wielding of power until the day you die. And then what?

And then, of course, you trust that you have set, and led, your offspring on the right path such that they will succeed in life, as you have; or else, succeed where you might have failed. To this end my parents sought to ensure I had a good education, and it was for this reason that I was abroad when news of my mother’s death arrived.

I looked out of the airplane window, knowing that the endless oceans would soon give way to a lush rainforests and oil palm plantations—a ‘tropical paradise’, some would say. Not me, anyway. When you spend years studying Biology it becomes clear that forests are not paradise; it’s a wild, cruel jungle out there. And biodiversity—what does greater diversity mean, if not more things out there eating other things? There’s more killing and bloodshed—but we don’t see these things, of course. And we parade this diversity as if it is something to be celebrated.

If I seem morbid it is simply because the sea over which I’m flying reminds me so much of when I was attached to a turtle conservation unit off the coast of Terengganu. We spent practically half a year—the entire nesting season—monitoring nesting mothers, incubating eggs and releasing hatchlings into the ocean. They say turtles return to their natal shores (the very beaches on which they hatched) to lay eggs. Why? No one really knows. Perhaps it is because it is considered safe; if it was safe enough for a clutch of eggs to hatch, and for some of those to mature into fertile parents, then perhaps the place is worth returning to for laying the next generation.

The best—and most haunting—memories were the nights we released hatchlings to the sea, waving them off to a future that was as uncertain as ours. We knew predators, nets and poachers lay waiting in the waters beyond, and yet we thought it worth trying. One hatchling leads, while the others follow into the ocean, into the darkness that awaits, braving the dangers because the stories of the sea tell them their journey need not be in vain. Like scars that promise us we can endure pain and hurt again. And it was painful knowing that so many of those hatchlings would never make it.

This was a country where conservation was incongruent at best, senseless at worst. Turtles were protected on some beaches, but anywhere else anyone could do with them whatever they wished. Turtle eggs were still sold in markets, and although demand seemed to dwindle for a bit, it was still there.

Like the turtles, my parents threw me into the deep end. And when that happens, you learn to swim, and then you swim because you can. And so we didn’t scream our lungs out against injustice, at home or in public. We learnt to swallow it, digest it and spew it out the other end. Life is too short to be angry at others. We stood our own against what we considered an injustice in the way some laws were set, because sometimes you just have to take control. In the airplane the sun sets because you move; you’re not just waiting for the earth to carry you across the International Date Line.

In the late evening, the sky outside is blue. Not the happy pastel blue, but a deep, sad, lifeless blue. Though in so many ways we can lead lives as limitless as the sky, yet we are bruised; we are a pale blue-grey, and we are a blue people. Blue means unity and perpaduan, if you may, but blue is also the colour you look after taking a few punches and blows.

I remember all of those moments like they happened before I boarded this flight. The clouds within seek to overcome us, but I guess if we hang on to the little flickering lights that hold out against the dark, we’ll make it. We’ll land where we began and truly begin to know the place as if for the first time.

It was in the middle of the night when I landed, and nothing but little blinking lights on the runway greeted me upon my return to the land of my birth.

* * *

A crescent moon and a thousand stars stand guard over the quiet sea, as memories of red and white stripes in a deep blue sea percolate through the waters. It was many years ago that the white from the reflected moonlight on the waves were tinged with the red blood of brethren who would never finish the journey they began with such promise. Many years ago that the blue sea faded into black.

Slowly, she swims to shore as an airplane fades into the distance overhead.

There is a commotion as people with flashlights hurriedly, and fumblingly, turn their lights off, and slowly inch their way towards the landed giant reptilian mass.

“Penyu, penyu. Shhh...”

And the night begins. She takes a deep breath of air—air from a shore she had not known since she first knew air. She does not remember how she found her way back, or why here of all places, but this she knows: she is home.

* * *

In memory of the fallen

Back to Broga

2012-01-27T20:53:00.003+08:00

I last climbed this hill in Semenyih nearly three years ago, and blogged about that experience here. That was an evening climb, and the sun was setting fast—we barely made it out before sundown.

Two days ago, on Wednesday morning, I returned to Broga, this time with Leanne and Stephanie. Leanne wanted to go for a hike, and she figured Broga would offer better views than the forest behind her house. So, with barely three hours of proper sleep (and the remnants of a suspiciously named cocktail), we were up by 5.30 in an attempt to catch the sunrise. Apparently a horde of other hikers had the same idea!

One wrong turn near the entrance to the oil palm estate, we nevertheless made it before the sun was up, arriving and beginning our ascent by around 6.15 or so. It was a very pleasant morning.

* * *

Dawn: haze and mist, 7.23 a.m.

Steph and Leanne, 7.34 a.m.

O sole mio, 7.58 a.m.

Respite, 8.05 a.m.

Onwards, 8.05 a.m.

View from beyond the second peak, 8.08 a.m.

Rocks, 8.10 a.m.

The world above below the world below, 8.15 a.m.

Morning on oil palm, grass and lalang, 8.26 a.m.

Top of the world, 8.37 a.m.

* * *

Postscript:

The best time for photographing warm colours (at least at this time of the year) is during the 8.00-8.30 window. Light is very poor before 7.30, and from 7.30-8.00 there is just enough light for pastel-y portraits, but foreground detail is a bit difficult to manage.

KB/Thailand Trip, May 2011

2012-01-26T14:20:00.001+08:00

It's Chinese New Year 2012, and I am finally getting down to writing about my major trips last year.

And what a year of travelling it was! Two trips each to Thailand and Terengganu, and trips to two major national parks in Malaysia. That particular season of travel stretched from May to late August—during summer holidays at the centre where I teach.

The series started with a trip to Thailand (19-23 May) via the 'dark side', via Kelantan, with George. We took a compartment on the overnight train to Kelantan, hung around for a bit in Kota Bharu with Teeming and friends, literally walked across the border to Thailand, and spent a night each in Hat Yai and Songkhla, before taking the train back to KL from Hat Yai, via the Padang Besar crossing.

* * *

It all started with dinner at Kenny Rogers', KL Sentral, with Kaun, Ai Wei, Yen and Tim. Kaun was supposed to join us on the trip, but pulled out due to other commitments.

It would seem that Kaun and Ai Wei are bad luck when it comes to dinners before train rides; the last time I missed a train was when the three of us were having a leisurely dinner at the E&O hotel in Penang! Thinking the train would either be just on time, or even five minutes late, we were at the dinner table until 8.30, whereupon George left to check if the train had arrived. Five minutes later, he called and said, in a rather shaky, shocked tone, that the train had left.

My immediate reaction was one of panic, and I think I spent a whole five minutes thinking of what other options we had. By the time I joined George near the KTM ticket counter, it was about 8.45. It was then that a bright idea came to mind: we checked what time the train would arrive at Seremban, the next staion. The stop was scheduled at 9.45. I figured we could get there in 45 minutes by taxi, arriving a narrow 10 minutes before the train, assuming the train would not be ahead of schedule there.

And so we bundled ourselves in a taxi, trying, for the first time in my life, to overtake a missed train. A dramatic 50 minutes later (we took a wrong turn at Terminal 1, Seremban), our enthusiastic and flawless taxi driver got us to the station where we discovered, much to our joy and relief, that the train had not yet arrived.

It would arrive only at about 9.50, five minutes behind schedule.

George and I kept silence on the platform, and it was only after we had put our luggage down in the compartment that we burst out laughing quite like we'd never burst out laughing before. It was almost too good to be true. Almost, because there we were, for real, inside the compartment and safely rattling away on the journey we had meticulously planned weeks in advance.

Sea of green, Kelantan.

The night in the compartment was one of the best train experiences I'd had. It wasn't particularly spacious, but there was privacy, and the lower berth doubled as a nice sitting space. We had the convenience of a sink and mirror in the compartment, as well as a giant window through which to view the passing landscapes.

The buffet coach was operating, much to our delight; it sometimes doesn't run on the west coast trains. For breakfast, we had toasted sandwiches; I had coffee as well, and George had iced Milo and (I think) nasi lemak.

We arrived at Wakaf Bharu on Friday morning, 20 May, and took a taxi eastwards into Kota Bharu.

Man with kopiah on trishaw, Kota Bharu.

Kota Bharu is about as Malay a town as it gets. Separated from the rapid urbanisation that characterises the west coast of Malaysia, it retains some of that suburban tranquility that is fast becoming extinct in places like KL and PJ (though it does exist if you know where to look).

But one of the most pleasant surprises was to discover that trishaws still existed—real trishaws used by real people for real purposes, not those touristy ones that crawl all over Malacca and Penang.

Every weekend there is a bird-singing contest at the padang along Jalan Sri Cemerlang, in the northern part of the city. I don't know what the origins of these contests are, but apparently the same species of singing bird is popular across the border as well, for we saw some of them in the border town of Sungai Kolok.

We paid a visit to the padang, and had morning tea at one of the houses across the road, which had opened up its premises as a tiny eatery of sorts, catering to the bird crowd. I think George went for the nasi lemak, while I had some sort of gulai ikan, fish in heavy coconut curry. The family—from grandmother to granddaughters—speak excellent English.

A city's signboards are often revealing, subtly—though sometimes overtly—declaring its values and priorities. Here, apparently, even burgers get parking spaces!

I don't know how true it is that the burger stall operator actually has a city council-issued permit to take up those parking lots, but it's the first time I'd ever seen such a bold signboard!

While this looks like a pro-environment message, one can't help but wonder if a rather different meaning was intended, given that the state is run by PAS, the Malaysian Pan-Islamic Party (Parti Islam Semalaysia).

This made me think of SooT, what with its very communist colours. Furthermore, the wheat stalks reminded me of the sickle, a symbol of the Soviet Union. I know that SooT doesn't consider himself a communist, but then communism and the Soviet Union remind me of people like Marx and Lenin, and they, in turn, make me think of people like SooT.

Teeming drove us to Pantai Irama, southeast of the city, where we spent some time wading in the water and just taking in the seaside air.

We then headed to Teeming's campus, USM's Health Campus (Kampus Kesihatan, Kubang Kerian), to take some photos of her around the campus grounds. There was a green area with a lake and a few impressive trees, and we had a good evening there.

Along the way, we spotted at least two half-drunk drink plastic bags. It seems that I most frequently encounter them on trips—random or otherwise—with George, hence he also (subconsciously?) takes notice of these things whenever we're out together.

Border crossing at Sungai Golok, Kelantan-Thailand border.

In Kota Bharu, we spent the night at the KB Backpackers hostel, run by the enigmatic Pawi (we still quite haven't figured out if he's Malay, Thai, both, or neither). Disregarding his advice to go to one of the Thai islands instead of Hat Yai and Songkhla ("Why you go Hat Yai and Songkhla? You want to see Malay man, you go Hat Yai. Songkhla? Nooo. You go Ko Samui..." and so on and so forth), we boarded one of the Cityliner buses to the Kelantan border town of Rantau Panjang.

The border conveniently runs along the river known as Sungai Golok in Malay, and Sungai Kolok in Thai. The Thai border town on the other side is called Sungai Kolok, after the river that separates the two countries.

It's not every day that you see a signboard like this, let alone enter another country by foot. Most people fly these days, and even when crossing overland, people take buses or trains. Here, we literally walked across the border.

Muslim man, Sungai Kolok.

I was trying to pull of a Steve McCurry-style portrait, with my 105mm f/2.5 lens and Fujichrome Astia film. McCurry always created the most striking portraits, but then he was also known for spending a good deal of time building rapport with his subjects, something I didn't do in the least.

(Come to think of it, great portraits are never candid ones. Martin Schoeller's subjects are always fully aware of being photographed, as are McCurry's portrait subjects.)

The Sungai Kolok railway station was surprisingly busy, and I think there were a fair number of Thai travellers (judging by the language spoken), though I'm sure there were probably also a sizable lot of Kelantanese.

We caught the 2.20pm (though I think it was delayed to 3-something or so) train to Hat Yai. Thailand is an hour behind Malaysia, because Malaysian time is pegged to Sabah time.

It was a pleasant journey, although the armed soldiers onboard the train served as both a reminder of the general unrest in these southern parts of Thailand, as well as a small insurance against any terrorist attacks. Riding through the countryside, though, all I could feel was that life still went on in spite of the sporadic bursts of violence, and that, for the residents of the 'deep south', it was literally business as usual.

True to accounts of train rides in these parts, hawkers were present at nearly every other stop along the way, selling all sorts of food. We had, I think, a light lunch at the Sungai Kolok station (or perhaps it was only a drink), so at this time I was already feeling quite hungry.

I bought a rice dish served on banana leaf with friend chicken and something like a cross between sayur lodeh and green curry, from the Muslim lady on the right. Rice is called khao in Thai, and so whenever someone came up along the side of the train—or along the aisle inside—calling out "Khao, khao!" it meant they were selling food, usually, but not always, rice.

We got into Hat Yai before sundown, and George managed to exchange some money before the banks closed for the day; Teeming lent me some Thai baht, so I was alright for the time being. We checked into the Cathay Guest House along Thanon Niphatuthit 2 (thanon is Thai for 'road'), near the railway station. At 200 baht (RM20) for a twin room, it was the cheapest I'd ever paid for accommodation with en suite bathroom.

We spent the night walking the pasar malam near the guesthouse, passing on Pirates of the Caribbean in a local cinema, and had dinner in a western restaurant called Post Laserdisc (several hundred metres down Thanon Thamnoonvithi from the railway station). The food was good, and reasonably priced; but the best part was the 'happy hour' mixers, which could be had as cheaply as 50 baht for, say, a standard mixed like Bacardi and Coke.

The next morning, I was up just after sunrise and went out for a morning walk while George slept in. I walked further on along Thamnoonvithi and came upon this Roman Catholic church, which I photographed against the early morning sun.

Along the same road, I also saw some buses with Malaysian registration plates and yet another half-drunk drink hanging from a bus stand! I got lost thereafter, trying to find my way to one Wat Romankathorik (no prizes for guessing what inspired the name) that was on the map (one of those useful WEM maps which I've been using for my travels around Malaysia).

I ended up taking a big loop around the southern part of the city, before finally regaining my bearings and heading back to the hotel.

Hung out to dry, Hat Yai.

It was a Sunday, and along the way the streets declared that it was a public holiday, with many shops and stalls closed (or not yet open?). The sudden quietness stood in stark contrast with the noise and liveliness of the night before.

As I was walking, many motorcycle taxis stopped to offer me a lift. I declined, wanting instead to explore the city—and find my way—on my own.

Back on Thamnoonvithi, just a couple of blocks from the guesthouse, I stopped to pick up some breakfast yew char koay for myself and George. This old man was making and selling some by the roadside—one of the few signs of life other than the busy coffee shops nearby.

He was a rather shy man, and even when telling me how much to pay he barely whispered "Sip baht" (ten baht).

When George finally got up we headed to this air-conditioned café called Daothiam, also along Thamnoonvithi, for noodles.

I must say that, for what it's worth, I like Thai noodles quite a lot. Nothing beats the curries and laksas of Malaysia, but as far as clear, brothy noodles go, the Thai ones are way up there. This was only my introduction to Thai noodles, and a little more than a month later, I was back for more—but that's another story.

Hope for tomorrow, Hat Yai.

Being a Sunday morning, we thought of dropping into a Thai church for service. We found one—although I cannot now remember the name—along Thanon Phetkasem, on the way to the fountain circle. There, we were greeted by a church elder called Chan Wit, who incidentally spoke English, being a lecturer/researcher at a hospital/medical school.

The sermon was delivered in Mandarin, and translated into Thai, as the pastor does not speak Thai; apparently he is Korean or something, and married a Thai woman. I could pick out a few words and phrases, but by and large George and I couldn't understand anything. Still, it was a good experience, and I believe the fellowship of believers goes beyond the languages we speak or don't speak. Chan Wit's hospitality was already such a pleasant start, and to be welcome at the post-service lunch along with the rest of the congregation was a further blessing.

We were introduced to a young seminarian from Bangkok, who was sent to Hat Yai for a short stint at the church; and things like this, missionaries and all, we can understand though we come from such different cultures and backgrounds, because these things lie at the heart of the entire Christian movement. It hit further home some months later, when I discovered, during Convo Dinner, that Ruth Vinoth was spending some time on mission work in Hat Yai itself.

In this part of Thailand, at least, they still hand-paint movie posters. There's George with Vin Diesel and Paul Walker.

Contrary to Pawi's advice, we barely found any obvious Malaysians in Hat Yai; it Thai enough for us, but still not quite as Thai compared to our next stop, Songkhla. There is so much to be said about Songkhla, and it would merit a study on its own, but the first impressions I got went along the lines of 'mighty ancient kingdom on the coast'. There are many ancient Thai settlements, and famous sites like Ayutthaya come to mind, but this is one of the few (if not the only one) that sits proudly in between a sea and a 'lake'.

Trivia: Songkhla is Sai's hometown.

National Museum, Songkhla.

Situated on a piece of land in between the Gulf of Thailand on the east, and the Thale Sap lake on the west, Songkhla is the site of an ancient civilisation, the remains of which are displayed in the small but well—presented and informative Songkhla National Museum.

The museum is housed in an old Chinese mansion, with the lovely courtyards typical of the Chinese mansions of time past. Several giant anchors from ancient ships are on display in the museum's large lawn.

Admission was 150 baht (RM15)—pricey if you think of the Smithsonian Museums, which are free, but well worth it for a glimpse into the history of the city, hard to be gotten any other way.

In the evening—and it was an ominously cloudy evening—we climbed the naga (dragon) stairs all the way to the 105-metre-high Phra Chedi Luang temple on top of Khao Tang Kuan (Tang Kuan hill/mountain). Along the way, we stopped at the King Rama IV pagoda/rest house, where George took some particularly awesome photos.

The chedi offers a superb, panoramic view of the city, the Gulf of Thailand and the Thale Sap.

Royal colours in a stormy sky, Songkhla.

One of my favourite photos from the trip. I know the dynamic range is a bit problematic, but I found this picture symbolic of what I felt about Thailand, both on this trip and the next. In the midst of the political storm, bright rays shine; not just the royal connection in the reverence of Thais for the monarchy, but the whole idea of yellow being a hopeful colour.

And on the subject of literal storms, look what happened in Bangkok some months later!

Gulf of Thailand coast, Songkhla.

The storm did hit, and we were trapped at the foot of Khao Tang Kuan. A couple of bottles of orange juice later, we decided to run towards the beach (near BP Samila hotel) for one of the seafood restaurants we saw there earlier. It was still raining, albeit much lighter than before, but we figured that if we didn't start running, we'd be stuck for a long time.

It was a beautiful sunset on the coast, a beauty not even the storm clouds could extinguish (and some might even say the best sunsets come after the worst storms). I've always felt, perhaps subconsciously since Pangkor 2009, that seascapes ought to have boats in them.

This sunset was captured on Portra 160VC. Not as wildly saturated as Velvia—or a crossed process slide film—would've been, but just alright.

George in songtaew, Songkhla.

After a somewhat filling dinner, we started walking back to the guesthouse. A songtaew (pickup with two rows of seats) stopped by and the driver offered us a ride. It was agreed we'd pay 10 baht (RM1) but we ended up paying 20 baht (RM2) because, according to the driver, it was 10 baht each. I didn't think that was our initial agreement, but it was late and I had neither the mood nor vocabulary to argue, and besides, it was only RM1 extra and not worth the effort.

After a shower (we were still slightly messy from the rain, I think) at the Romantic Guest House (Thanon Platha) where we lodged for the night, we were out again looking for drinks. Countless 7-Elevens later (they seem to be everywhere in Thailand), we ended up in the nearby Thanon Sisuda, which was more like Mat Salleh central than anything else.

We had some mocktails at the Irish Pub, before settling for some heavier stuff at the Corner Bier (where I had a glass of white wine). The Corner Bier was rather dead, but the decoration was tasteful, if simple: there was an impressive collection of liquor bottles and a large-enough Soviet Union flag, among other flags and paraphernalia.

The best part of the night, however, had to be the drinks and snacks we had at a place whose name we never figured out, but which, from the signboard outside, seemed to be "63, Thanon Sisuda". It is an easy enough place to spot, with its generally youthful clientele and candlelit tables. It was such a laid-back place, and obviously popular with the locals; it always seems to be a good indicator that, to find good food, go where the locals go.

Porridge stall, Songkhla.

Next morning, I somehow convinced George to rise early—before sunrise—and follow me to Khao Noi (Khao Tang Kuan's sister hill) to catch the sunrise, if possible from one of the sites of the ancient ruins. He agreed to come, reasoning that he couldn't leave me walking the streets of Songkhla alone in the dark.

We failed to locate the ruins, which we probably overgrown or completely excavated, but we did have a pleasant-enough walk on the hill. On the way back to the guesthouse, we stopped by a porridge stall on Thanon Sukhum (or nearby) for breakfast. The porridge was very nice, and seemed to be popular among the locals, and many school children stopped by for breakfast, too.

The rest of the morning was spent asleep in the guesthouse—one of my first long knockouts, a rarity for me while on trips—and we finally checked out, walking past the scary owl painting in the stairwell, and returned to Thanon Sisuda for lunch at a restaurant called Parlang.

There, the women running the restaurant didn't speak English, but they were so resourceful and enthusiastic—they looked up Google and translated the Thai menu for us!—that we had to stay for lunch. We had the famous Thai mango salad, which was perfectly zesty and spicy, among other things. After lunch, the proprietors even went so far as to drive us to a bus stand from which we could take a bus back to Hat Yai!

Porters outside railway station, Hat Yai.

We arrived early enough in Hat Yai, where the train was scheduled to depart at 4.00pm. I did not check earlier if the 4.00pm on the KTM schedule was in Malaysian or Thai time. If the latter, it would mean 3.00pm Thai time, and we'd have to get to the station earlier (our watches weren't set to Thai time).

Turned out the 4.00pm was Thai time, so we had a whole hour to spare. We managed a quick tea of noodles and iced tea at one of the coffee shops on Thanon Thamnoonvithi—I was desperately searching for some of that dark red milk tea we were served at Sabai Dee in Honolulu—where the tea was redder than our usual teh tarik, but not quite red enough.

That would be our last meal on the trip, as no food was served on the train.

Packed buffet coach on the Senandung Langkawi, Hat Yai to KL.

And so the journey came to an end the morning of 24 May. George and I have not been on a trip since, although we are very much looking forward to April and, if all goes well, Aug/Sept this year.

* * *

Technical matters:

I used Portra 160NC (colour, Kota Bharu), Portra 160VC (Songkhla, KL Sentral), TriX (all B&W pictures), Astia (Sg Kolok, Hat Yai) and digital (railway to KB, George in songtaew, Hat Yai noodles, and those signboards and miscellany for which I did not want to waste film).

While I've really settled into TriX for B&W, I've yet to settle into a colour film, although Portra looks like the obvious choice: Portra 160 for controlled shoots (e.g. portraits/indoor where I can use flash), and 400 for everything else.

As a colour film, Astia has always been my number one, but it's not very forgiving in less-than-perfect light. This was the last roll I shot before discovering that Astia had been discontinued, and I haven't shot any of my remaining six rolls since.

I used the FM10 with 28mm and 105mm lenses. A red filter was used for most of the outdoor B&W photos.

Martin Schoeller says...

2012-01-26T05:39:00.001+08:00

"If you're going to take a picture, really try to make it the best picture you've ever taken, every time. Always strive for the best you can do. If you want to be a photographer, be a photographer ten hours a day instead of spending five hours retouching some half-ass picture you don't like in the first place."

From here.

Bumi Nyata

2012-01-23T19:51:00.002+08:00

"Rata-ratanya masih ramai [di Bangladesh] yang berpijak di bumi nyata, tidak hilang hubungan dengan alam semula jadi dan dunia sebenar."

~ Sergio Ramazzotti, 'Sinar Bangladesh'; terjemahan oleh Rosmin Darus, Going Places Jun 2011, MAS Airlines

Di persada dunia yang kian moden, kian menghampiri visi yang diungkapkan dalam kisah-kisah sains fiksyen beberapa dekad yang lalu, apakah kita makin hari menjelma menjadi warga bumi maya, bumi yang makin hari didefinisikan oleh perhubungan dan komunikasi alam maya?

Apakah harapan untuk generasi akan datang, sedangkan generasi ini makin hilang hubungan dengan alam semula jadi dan dunia sebenar, seolah-olah bumi dihakis di bawah kaki yang tidak lagi kenal rasa bumi nyata?

Butterfly Rhyme

2012-01-21T17:48:00.001+08:00

Butterfly, butterfly

Waiting for your wings to dry

Butterfly, butterfly

Look into the sky

A man in red shirt, passing by

Butterfly, now try

To spread your wings and fly.

10.00 a.m., Saturday 21 Jan 2012

Ruined and Bleeding

2012-01-13T21:36:00.001+08:00

Chinese New Year in red and yellow.

* * *

So we found this abandoned corner house in Section 17, near UM's International House.

The following is a treatment of some of the scenes in the house, edited to the theme of 'rust red'—red, not full-bodied and bursting with life, but the red of decay and decomposition.

From dust you came, and to dust you shall return.

The rafters have fallen in.

Remnants of Golgotha, Tree of Life and Death.

In and out of old messes.

Warped wooden doorways.

Hanging by a nail.

This, to me, resembled a to-do note, scribbled on paper and pinned on a board or wall—as if something that was to be done, was not. Life in progress, suddenly and irrevocably halted.

The Phantom and his cloak, carved into the wall.

The Throne Room.

Water, power and mottled plaster.

The ubiquitous half-filled drink plastic bag: what started out as a joke in the ET on Merdeka Day, 2009, seems to be taking on a much more serious turn. These things really are everywhere—and always half-drunk!

Kisses blown, love flown.

Roaring Tiger, Sleeping Station

2012-01-10T00:43:00.000+08:00

Dear friends,

Mensa Heritage proudly presents: "Roaring Tiger, Sleeping Station"

This cross-peninsula trip begins with a visit to Singapore’s now-defunct Tanjong Pagar station. Itinerary from then on includes a stopover in Kukup for seafood, a visit to the old train town of Kluang, a midnight ride through the jungle-clad interior of Peninsular Malaysia (catching the sunrise somewhere on the border of Taman Negara), and a final stop in Kelantan, where, if adventurous, we may cross over to Thailand on foot via Sungai Golok.

Some background: this particular night train from Johor to Kelantan is a new service called the Malayan Tiger, which uses ‘recommissioned’, refurbished Blue Train coaches from Japan. Check this website out for more information on the Blue Train: http://forums.sgtrains.com/showthread.php?tid=1177

Deadline: Wednesday, 18 Jan. But we will monitor train ticket sales, and may close earlier if tickets are selling fast. So don’t hesitate—confirm quickly! If you’re interested, but need a bit more time to mull it over, at least let me know so that I can alert you if we’re going ahead with ticket purchase.

This trip is OPEN to all; bring your friends/family!

For more information, including full itinerary, email benjamin[at]dimanajua[dot]com.

2012-01-08T09:54:00.000+08:00

Preludes (II)

T.S. Eliot

The morning comes to consciousness

Of faint stale smells of beer

From the sawdust-trampled street

With all its muddy feet that press

To early coffee-stands.

With the other masquerades

That time resumes,

One thinks of all the hands

That are raising dingy shades

In a thousand furnished rooms.

* * *

Tim cracking his head over the foreword.

At last, it is finished—well, the first draft anyway. Some editing will be required, but at least it's out!

Zest is practically now our 'official' café.

On Children and the Environment

2012-01-07T23:41:00.001+08:00

This is Thary Gazi, an ecologist in the making and perhaps one of the most brilliant minds of his generation, of my generation.

This picture was taken immediately after a rather nasty slip on muddy, slippery, somewhat thorny, and rather steep terrain. It looks nothing of the sort here, because photographs—even the most raw—have a sanitised quality about them. We are so inoculated against the horrors of the world that not even massacre and grotesqueness offends us anymore.

But it was certainly treacherous terrain—treacherous enough to cause him to slip again some 30 minutes later, this time slitting a finger on the blade of his parang.

In their excellent book As If the Earth Matters, authors Thom Henley and Kenny Peavey write about ways to introduce children to the environment. They say:

It is important that [immersion in nature] be comfortable and enjoyable in the early stages in order to promote further exploration. Later, it becomes an opportunity to expand the 'comfort zone' once the individual has developed the self-confidence and skills to push their limits.

There was nothing comfortable and enjoyable about hacking our way through that forest, and push our limits we certainly did.

* * *

At a neighbour's open house this evening, I noticed that there were four widescreen television sets in the house, and not quite enough bookshelves.

Which makes me wonder about the present generation. I think children—especially urban children—are generally divided into two categories:those who cannot live without digital/modern conveniences, and those who are convinced that there must be something more in the world 'out there'.

But this is not to say that rural kids are more aware. The generation of politicians and business magnates who plunder our natural environments, most certainly grew up with a lot less in the way of 'digital (in)conveniences', most certainly grew up surrounded by a lot more nature. The difference is this: they don't care. And you can be sure to find people who don't give a damn in the country as sure as you will find them in the city.

What I believe is that teaching children to care for the environment calls for a certain type of imagination on the child's part: in an information-saturated age, there seems to be less and less need for the child to imagine, for the child to come to terms with real things, to work out solutions on his or her own.

With Thary, and with myself, I think we grew up in quite positively urban environments, surrounded by the subconscious knowledge that science had figured many things—maybe even everything for all we knew—out, and yet... we must've felt there was something more. That there were still unturned stones in the forest, still unearthed secrets beneath river beds, still mysteries in the deep blue sea.

I am quite convinced that, if we can bring about this realisation, this sense of mystery and wonder in children, we shall not be on the wrong track.

To Start the Year

2012-01-05T12:30:00.000+08:00

At Mel's New Year's Eve dinner, PH talked about his enduring interest in computers, and how his father always said he loved tearing computers apart and putting them back again when he was younger.

We talked about doing the things we love, the things we are passionate about.

And I think that was a good thought with which to close the year. Along with a number of other things that happened in the second half of last year, I really 2012 ought to be the 'Year of the Heart'—a year to be honest with my feelings and myself, for I believe that only in attaining harmony with myself will I be able to do the same with others.

* * *

I told myself in 2010, when I graduated, that I would take something like a year off to decide on what to do next. It has since been a year and a half, coming to two years this June. So it's really quite about time I decided!

Remember this post? Denise suggested, "The least predictable one, of course, because you know it's gonna be an exciting and rewarding (monetary or otherwise) experience, no matter what!"

I have more or less decided that, whatever I do next, it will not be a PhD in the sciences. I really enjoyed my undergraduate days, but then I was reminded last year that I never chose Ecology in order to make it a career; I chose it because that was what I wanted to study, to experience, at that point in my life.

I learnt yesterday that an old primary school friend is starting a diploma in Digital Animation at The One Academy. Apparently she wanted to do it four years ago, but was advised against it by her father. As such, she did a course in business economics and management. In my reply to this news, I reflected on how life really is too short to be stuck doing the 'safe' things, especially if your heart is elsewhere.

Of course, I am aware that there are many who don't have a choice, either because of extenuating circumstances, or because they are not sufficiently qualified for certain jobs, and so on. But by and large, I do feel that many have a very real choice—besides, it's not as if the 'safe jobs' are any better a guarantee of a secure and comfortable future.

The latter half of 2011 was replete with 'visits' to the past, to my roots and the things I've been true to, and that have been true to me over the years. I found myself thinking about the artists in my life—those who have shaped how I see the world: people like Uncle Hui, Eric Peris Christine Peh, and even my own doppelgänger, Jia Ming herself.

* * *

So what's ahead for 2012?

First of all, I think this is the year I'll write my 1000th post here! So that will be something to look forward to, not so much because of the 'record', but because it will be a good time to look back over the last eight years or so since I started blogging, and see how I've grown, developed and changed over these years.

Anyway, this is just a short post to kick-start the year. The long reflections on last year will come later, as will all the trip 'reports': so many trips made last year, so many places visited, but none properly featured here yet. I hope to get this done—or at least, get the ball rolling—sometime mid-Jan, hopefully, once I've settled the UM Cares sustainability handbook project, which is finally near the end!

And I have a number of projects lined up, about which I'm very excited. More on these later, but one thing I can say about them: I really feel they've been delayed too long. If we don't put our skills and powers to good use when we can, they really will atrophy!

The last photograph of 2011, taken at Mel's:

Evening with Yaël and Conan

2011-12-28T18:52:00.001+08:00

What an unusual day.

I looked up Yaël Naim's 'New Soul', which Joel identified at Audrey's wedding reception with that incredible smartphone app that identifies songs.

And a brilliant live version:

And then, on Google Plus, I saw Alpha's posting of Conan O'Brien's secret Santa project. You can access the link here.

Curious about Conan O'Brien, I looked him up on Wikipedia and learned that he won an essay competition back when he was 17. I found the Boston Globe article here, and reading it reminds me once again of what I love so much about writing, that it's about characters, about people—and real people at that.

I like what he says about Hemingway, which I have found to be true as well: "[Hemingway] has a vocabulary about as extensive as mine, but he puts it together well."

The article is here. But just in case the digital version disappears, here it is in its entirety.

* * *

EXTRA CREDIT
STARTING OUT WITH STYLE

By Phyllis Coons -- Boston Globe -- December 3, 1980 -- Section: LIVING

This weekly series focuses on Massachusetts high school students in the classroom and their EXTRA CREDIT - the hobbies, jobs and interests that round out their lives.

He writes stories in a garret, but he's no starving artist. He lives in a large house in Brookline with a large family . . . five bothers and sisters, his parents and grandmother . . . in a comfortable style which his friends call "The Corporation."

"I live in the corner of the attic because it's quiet there and nobody can shuffle my paper around," says Conan O Brien. The 17-year-old Brookline High School senior's latest story, "To Bury The Living," won him a top prize in the National Council of Teachers of English writing contest. "The competition was very stiff, " says Marcia Castellon, administrative assistant for the Council's 1980 Achievement Awards in Writing. More than 5500 students from schools in every state and American schools abroad were nominated by their English teachers to take part. "The writing performance of this student was compared with other able students and was adjudged to be of superior quality," says O'Brien's citation.

O'Brien's story is about a middle-class Irish undertaker who can't take it seriously when his son wants to enter a writing contest for a college scholarship because it is understood that he will work at Leigh Herlihy and Son Funeral Home. As O'Brien described the situation: "Leith felt numb at first. What his father had said (about Herlihy and Son) didn't shock him, simply the fact that it had finally been said. Without looking at his parents, Leith knew how to focus on his grandmother. She alone had the power to change it all, she alone had witnessed it twice before. Better than anyone else, Grandmother Herlihy knew the cycle. After a long pause, she looked into Leith's eyes and nodded her head.

"Leith, sick with frustration, felt the smallness of the room. He stood up and kicked his chair from under him. Without looking at anyone, he ran from the table and up the stairs leading to his room. The door slammed and the entire house shook with the force. As the china in the cabinet rattled, Grandmother Herlihy thought back to a similar scene 30 years before."

The story ends with the boy crumpling up the contest application and dropping it into the wastebasket. "I wanted it to be about real people and not end it with a walk off into the sunset," O'Brien says, running his long fingers through wiry red hair and shifting his 6 foot 3 frame as he put the pages of the story in order.

"No, it isn't autobiographical, but it comes from a sense of family tradition. We have a lot of it in our family. We all know where to sit at the table for Sunday dinners, and we always used to go to our grandparents, the O'Briens in Millbury or the Reardons in Sturbridge, for holidays.

"It had a big impact on me when both grandfathers died within days of each other. Grandfather O'Brien was a banker and Grandfather Reardon was a policeman, who also sold real estate so that he could support his large family. "In order to enter the contest we were asked to write about something that was a real experience for us, and that's what I wrote about, how hard it was for me then in the 7th grade to understand that that part of our family tradition was gone."

O'Brien's father, Thomas, is a microbiologist who does research at Harvard. His mother, Ruth, is a law partner in Ropes and Gray. Neither profession appeals to him. "I'm interested in writing, history, and politics. That's my dilemma. I like all three. I worked as a congressional intern for Robert Drinan and then for the candidate he endorsed, Barney Frank . . . street work and mail drops. It's a chance to meet all sorts of people."

"My family says that I've been scribbling since way back, but the writing I do now is mostly for the school paper, The Sagamore.' I was editorial editor last year and managing editor this year, which means that I don't have as much time to write, but I am freer to choose what I'll write about."

John Medearis, editor in chief, says, "Conan's contributions are extremely valuable. He is able to bring out the points which aren't predictable. My favorite piece of his was the spoof on the typical high school student . . . boring, boring, boring. He's a good mimic, too, especially of movie star heavies and he's co-captain of the debating team."

Tom Bresnahan, a classmate in English, says, "We all have to re-write the simplest of assignments in order to get the word choice and the sentence structure clean, but Conan probably does the most re-writes until they come out sharp."

O'Brien's English teacher, Christopher Reimann. says Conan's writing is very good. "Unlike most high school students, he is able to communicate what he is thinking very clearly. That can be a two-edged sword. If your thinking is confused, you have to have the ability to handle ambiguity. I criticize Conan's papers not on a high school level but on a more mature bassis and he handles criticism fairly well. It is clearly important to him."

O'Brien says, "There's not that much that separates me from other students, except that I take English very seriously. If I get a mediocre mark in math, I let it slide, but not in English.

Adds Conan, "I wrote to E.B. White, one of the writers I admire most, once and asked him how he handled criticism of his writing. You put so much of yourself into it that it's hard not to take criticism personally. White wrote back that he never minded critics much except when they had their facts wrong."

"I like Hemingway, too. He has a vocabulary about as extensive as mine, but he puts it together well. And Woody Allen. He's made up a style of his own. Everytime he starts with a thoughtful sentence he slips in something totally absurd."

Asked about the name, Conan, O'Brien says it is not for mystery writer Conan Doyle, but for Gaelic priests. "Something so simple that you can't make a nickname out of it.

"College? I'll take the best one that picks me. I tell my parents that next year they'll have to ask someone else to drive the little kids around and do errands, but I'll miss it just the same. There are a lot of real characters in this family."

Thoughts after lunch with Eric Peris and friends

2011-12-22T08:38:00.002+08:00

I reflected on my first meeting with the legendary Eric Peris in this post. A year and eleven months later, I found myself having a meal with him—and friends!—again.

(Many thanks to Aunty Sheila who made all this possible in the first place.)

During lunch, one of the things Eric talked about was the careless shooting attitude digital photography seems to encourage—it seems to be a recurring topic for him—in which photographers these days seldom think before they shoot, partly because we are no longer constrained by the 36 exposures of a 35mm film roll, and partly because 'bad' shots can be erased later. The conversation—principally with Uncle Rahman, Danial's father—began with Eric talking about why he doesn't bother getting larger capacity memory cards.

He summed up his stance in three words—"Think of 36." We would do well, he believes, to imagine we are still shooting with a limited roll of 36 exposures; then, he says, we will be more careful before pressing the shutter.

This led me to think of two recent shoots I did for a UM friend's company. At the first, I had forgotten to charge my camera's battery the night before, and to make things worse, I had forgotten to bring along the spare. Every shot counted, and—thank God, really—the battery lasted. I ended up making just about 200 exposures in four hours; I have a feeling the company may have wanted more—or at least, more shots taken so that we'd have a larger pool for selection.

At the second shoot, I went all-out and shot something like 800 frames in six hours. Were the shots from the second engagement necessarily better than those from the first? Not necessarily! More varied, yes; capturing more random nuances, yes; but more compelling as a portfolio on the whole? Not necessarily.

I do believe that photography is about knowing what you want and going for it; yes, you do approach the subject from different angles—but from a FEW angles, not by racking off 100 frames or so, hoping to record the anatomy of a yawn. (Then again, some people seem to like this sort of stuff these days.)

* * *

Later in the day, on the way home from a five-hour whirlwind errand run—which included the said lunch—I thought about the Penang workshop/trip I made with the PCP people in May 2007. After the morning photo walk, I remember hearing one of the guys at the workshop asking another, "So, how many gigs [gigabytes] did you shoot?"

Strange that the question wasn't, "How many good shots did you get?" let alone, "Did you encounter anything interesting?" or "What did you see?" It wasn't even, "How many shots did you take?"—the question was about the total size of the digital files!

At that time, I secretly thought to myself, "I think I took more pictures than that dude, but because my camera's files are small, I probably didn't hit anywhere near a few GB."

We are no longer Hemingway's old man, out there pursuing that great marlin, but mere trawlers, sweeping the sea with our giant nets and hoping to get lucky. We think—as these modern 'fishermen' do—that we can easily dispose of with whatever we don't want.

As I look back on those photographs, I find that I had shot nearly 500 pictures over the morning and evening photo walks; I can barely count 10 gems, looking through them. Amidst all that trawling I did get this picture:

But it was taken in the evening, when I was less obsessed with shooting every moving object, and more attentive to texture and form—when I was relaxed enough to look down at the beach and notice the extremely long shadows the strolling pigeons made.

This was the shot that received praise from renowned studio and advertising photographer Kelvin Chan during the group sharing session.

* * *

Plug: A photography exhibition on Nepal, curated by Alan Ng, is on display at Kokopelli Travellers Bistro, 4 Section 14/46, PJ, until the end of this year. So hurry, drop by and see it!

The photos include a stunning silver gelatin series by Alan Ng, and photographs taken by restaurant owner Ariff Awaluddin, Soraya Yusof Talismail, young Ushuaia Arif, Ange Choy, Choy Khye Fatt, Wong Lee Ling and Tovee Wan HL.

How do we maintain relevance in a world where photographs are so effortlessly made, and, perhaps for that reason, so arbitrarily disposed of?

I think this is what Eric Peris has been going on about all his life, and his photographs give us a strong clue as to the direction in which to head.

So I got my copy of Gitanjali signed, but unfortunately Soraya could not make it; Imaging Selfs will have to wait!

It's really not about being 'green'

2011-12-20T15:46:00.003+08:00

People get it wrong. They think I'm against plastics, styrofoam and the like because I'm an eco-fanatical tree-hugger sort. Well I'm not green; the grass is green, but I'm quite positively some shade of brown or tan.

I'm against wasteful use of synthetic materials simply because I like aesthetics. I take photos, I paint, I write. And my subject matter often comes from the world around me. Needless to say, plastic bottles generally don't look good in photographs—certainly not in nature photographs! And no one looks good eating out of a styrofoam container.

I believe in wildlife conservation not because I'm enraptured by the cuteness of dolphins, turtles and elephants, but because I think natural ecosystems are awesome. And when it comes to conserving an ecosystem—be it a coral reef, a rainforest or an arctic tundra—every member of the ecosystem needs to be conserved. In fact, it's often the small creatures that keep ecosystems alive; rainforests can survive without tigers, but they can't survive without the fungi and microorganisms that break down dead matter.

I endorse responsible and independent tourism, not because I think tour operators are crap (though of course, some are), but because, honestly, who wants to go snorkelling with hundreds of other day-trippers? Who wants to go for a jungle hike that feels more like a weekend school excursion? And who wants to take pictures of impressive architecture and sweeping landscapes with a menagerie of tourists in the foreground?

I support local agriculture and sustainable fisheries—and generally the whole 'going local' thing—not so much because I'm convinced of a creed or something, but more so because—let's face it—this is the only way that's going to work in the long run.

The December issue of National Geographic features an article on city living (link here—KL made it into the pages!), in which it is suggested that sustainable cities are the best bet for survival on earth. It must be realised, however, that sustainable can mean anything from perfectly synthetic (we don't need rivers because we can manufacture water) to a 'ruralisation' of cities (by going back to the natural way of things).

I know my opinions may well be a wet blanket in the dreams of many engineers, but I truly believe the key to the future is in the past, and that future cities really worth living in, will bear the unmistakable hallmarks of the best villages of the past and present.

Totally made my day

2011-12-17T18:42:00.000+08:00

At the Rantai Art Event 'Revisit' at Urban Village, next to BLC.

Jia Ming, meet Jia Ming. Yes, same characters. ;-)

I vaguely remember having met another Jia Ming before, some time ago. But what are the odds!

This is Jia Ming Suen, artist, sketchbook and notebook designer, among many other things I'm sure! Blogs here: http://suenster.blogspot.com/

Rock: It Matters if You're Black and White

2011-12-07T18:17:00.002+08:00

I am convinced that rock music, more than any other art form, is best expressed visually in black-and-white, or sepia-tinted, photographs.

I would go further and assert that these ought to be film photographs, and medium format at that (though I use 35mm), but these points are, I suppose, a little more debatable. For me, at least, I find the N80 so much more responsive than the D50 when it comes to autofocus in low light, and there's less camera shake when used with long lenses, too. I believe the newer cameras have superior autofocus, but I don't intend to spend that kind of money on a new digital SLR when most of my work is done on film.

Anyway, for my rock guitarist brother's 21st birthday, I prepared a portfolio of images I had taken, primarily during the later parts of 2010 and 2011, of him 'in action'. These are some of them.

* * *

Studio. 6 Strings, Taman Connaught.

Stage. The Library, e@Curve.

Stage. Opera, Sunway Pyramid.

* * *

The following were taken after the portfolio was completed, at UCSI's Contemporary Music Festival, 27 Nov 2011.

Bass and guitar.

The band performing Dream Theater's 'Endless Sacrifice'.

Thoughts on Street Photography

2011-12-07T17:26:00.000+08:00

The moment I saw these guys walking my way, I thought of a friend in Singapore whom Kishan described as wearing a cravat of late.

I barely had time to whip my handphone camera into action before they disappeared behind me. And then I realised a few things about street photography.

It is commonly held that street photography benefits from a wide and fast lens, and fast film or a high ISO. It also benefits from a small and inconspicuous camera, which is why rangefinders—especially when painted black—have been an enduring favourite of street photographers. SLRs, while perfectly black, are in no way subtle, and compact cameras, while subtle, are often not responsive enough to capture split-second moments on the street.

But there is, I believe, an approach to street photography that leaves less to chance, and enables the photographer to get compelling shots even with an SLR. And that is to use a tripod and a wide lens, to disappear into the busyness of the street, to capture the subjects walking by, using a cable release or remote control to trigger the shutter. This way, the photographer becomes a 'passive hunter' of sorts, crouched and all but hidden behind the camera, making passers-by and other people on the street less self-conscious. No doubt, many will try to avoid the camera. But pedestrian pathways are usually narrow enough for a wide lens to prevent any possible escape on the part of potential subjects.

Bring a friend along, put two stools out on the streetside, and have a conversation over drinks in one hand and the cable release is the other, being mindful of what's going on in the corner of your eye. Pre-focus the camera and set it on Manual, and trip the shutter whenever something of interest happens within the camera's field of view.

Because in all of this, street photography, I feel, is not so much about capturing random scenes you pass by, as it is about capturing scenes of people and things that pass you by. And this calls for a certain discipline, patience, and directed focus more typically associated with the 'passive' art of landscape photography.

O Donna Eileen Peris

2011-12-04T08:14:00.000+08:00

Eric Peris's mother passed away on 30 November, at the age of 96.

At the memorial, the Sinhalese Buddhist priest, who is somewhat familiar with the Peris family, mentioned the family's artistic tradition, that it fulfilled one of three areas of the complete life, that is, the area of Aesthetics.

Aesthetics, the part that relates to how you see the world, to your artistic sense of things around and within you. "This requires discipline, especially so when the whole family is involved."

Ethics. "This is how you relate to others, and to society."

Religion. "This is the redeeming of space and time."

* * *

Dixie, the family dog, died earlier this year at the incredible (by dog standards) age of 19.

They are indeed a long-lived family. But what is even more enduring is their art—indeed, it would appear that long after every last Peris is gone, the works they have created will outlive them and continue to influence and inspire many generations to come.

The 'McCurry Moment', and Changes in KL

2011-11-29T06:42:00.002+08:00

It was last Friday, and the moment I saw the image appear on my handphone screen I knew I had somehow broken new ground. It was like a 'McCurry moment'; Cartier-Bresson developed the idea of the 'decisive moment'—in which split-second gestures are anticipated and captured by the photographer—while Steve McCurry went on to interpret this in context of juxtapositions.

McCurry's images frequently depict the 'shared' decisive moment, the point when the individual decisive moments of two or more individuals meet.

For me, it began with the (apparently) homeless/jobless man. And then the woman came along. Because of the phone camera's ridiculous shutter lag, I really had no idea which part of her walking would be captured. When the final image was recorded, it turned out to be that moment when she picks up her skirt (and pace) and prepares to descend the stairs—her motion and momentum juxtaposed against his stillness.

(Note to self: I need a faster lens, both to counter hand-shake and reduce motion blur when taking pictures like this.)

* * *

There have been some observable changes in town, particularly at and around the Central Market area.

View of KL Tower from the Dayabumi-Central Market bridge, 5 November 2009.

Same view, 1 September 2011.

Note the new HSBC building, otherwise known as Quill 6.

Man descends steps at the Dayabumi-Central Market bridge, 5 November 2009.

Same view, 1 September 2011.

A roof has been built over the bridge. While this makes walking in rain somewhat more tenable, it obscures the view and the feeling of 'openness' which so characterises that area. Kinda like the effect of the roofs/canopies of Petaling Street and Jalan Masjid India.

* * *

According to the KTM website, the Kuala Lumpur station (Old Railway Station, as distinguished from the KL Sentral station) has been reinstated as a stop on the intercity route as of 1 October 2011.

I think it's only been about a year since they pulled the plug on the station (for the intercity routes), but I guess you can't keep a good station down. Elton John had this song called 'This Train Don't Stop There Anymore'. Well I suppose it won't be said of the intercity trains!

This applies to west coast trains on the North Line only, as the KL station is north of Sentral; South and East Line trains terminate at Sentral. An exception is the venerable Ekspres Rakyat, which plies almost the entire west coast, from Singapore to Butterworth.

Departure/arrival times from KL, to:

JB Sentral; 1400/2000
Butterworth; 0850/1615, 1510/2120, 2300/0630 (next day)
Padang Besar; 2120/0835

To KL, from:

JB Sentral; 0912/1500
Butterworth; 0800/1400, 1400/2100, 2300/0630 (next day)
Padang Besar; 1830/0525 (next day)

(All information correct as of 29 November 2011.)

The Mogul-inspired façade of the Old Railway Station at dusk, designed by architect A.B. Hubback. The station started operations in 1911. It is officially 100 years old this year, and I didn't know that—there doesn't seem to have been news on it at all!

More information here.

Titus, Joy, Yen and Jia Hui on Platform 1, waiting for the 6.30 a.m. ETS train to Ipoh, September 2010.

View from intercity train rattling through Platform 1 en route to KL Sentral.

Driveway, front of station.

Photographed 30 October 2011, while mistakenly waiting for Juin at the wrong place.

* * *

A promo display for the KTM Komuter 'transformation plan' has been put up at the main entrance foyer in KL Sentral. Looks like quite a complete overhaul of the existing system—about time too!

(That cartoon-like character next to the boy in green T-shirt is a person in the KOMI suit. KOMI is one of the KTM Komuter mascots, the other being MIKO.)

Meals Station has taken over from Warong Kita.

It is open 24 hours—one of the few outlets in Sentral to do so. Can't remember if Warong Kita used to be 24 hours also, but I think not; it just opened very early in the morning.

* * *

The other night—I think it was Saturday night—I dreamt, among other things, of Kaun, Yen, Jia Hui and Adelene.

Before that, in the dream, I was making some sort of Milo concoction for Mich. She said an average cup the way I did it would be RM20, and I said that it was impossible. I was being very generous with the Milo powder, the extra chocolate powder and the milk, but it couldn't have come up to RM20.

How did such an exchange find its way into my dream? I think it comes from what I do with my cocktails: Mich and Joan have observed that, if I made cocktails commercially as I make them at home, I would quickly go bankrupt!

KL Observed: Random

2011-11-27T07:45:00.002+08:00

Some scenes around town, this month.

Face lift, front façade, Pudu Plaza.

Pudu Plaza, front façade.

The Sphere, Bangsar South.

I concur with Yen; one of the foodie gems in the area, still relatively undiscovered. Among other things, Strongbow draught pint RM15 at S'Mores on Wednesdays, and Guinness draught pint RM12 from Thursday to Saturday (albeit till 10pm only)—yet to try!

Entrance to Lift Lobby from parking, Menara SSM, KL Sentral.

Talk about gender correctness!

Replacing road signs, at and around Jalan Abdullah, Bangsar.

1NasiLemak, Hang Tuah LRT station.

Seriously, the government should consider a campaign to promote nasi lemak as a 'unity symbol'. Then again, Namewee got there first.

Filing into the Monorail, Hang Tuah Monorail station.

View of the Asian Heritage Row, from Faber Imperial Court.

I wonder what aspect of 'heritage' this street embodies... unless it's the Asian drinking heritage you're talking about. But then again, there's not much in the way of Asian drinks here!

Chatime, Cheras Leisure Mall.

Seems like no matter where Chatime springs up, a queue is guaranteed.

Alexis with Kishan and Jean

2011-11-13T23:17:00.000+08:00

Jazz nights are really the bomb. And it's hard to beat Alexis Ampang for an overall great evening out with friends.

Kishan was back again over the weekend, and I met up with him and his friend Jean. In a world choked by the "iPad culture", it was great hanging out with real people, listening to real music. Nadia Aqilah, an up-and-rising R&B/soul singer was performing; the band included Emmanuel on drums!

We admitted we'd probably never understand what people find so enjoyable about clubbing. We paid less for a lovely bottle of wine than what people pay at clubs for alcohol they can barely truly enjoy; we had a meaningful conversation while people in clubs probably can't get a word across; we sat down to great food and great music, while club music is so loud it's barely audible.

Fire oven pizza—one of the highlights at Alexis. We mixed the Quattro Formaggi (four cheeses) and Al Funghi (mushroom) toppings.

We also shared a bottle of Salisbury Chardonnay, a plate of honey-roasted root vegetables (pumpkin, carrot, onion, garlic), a meringue-strawberry pavlova, and a pot of passionfruit tea.

And then, when they cleared everything up, we took some concept photos with the upturned/stacked chairs.

Kishan says I can compensate for any deficiencies/problems in photographic situations. That is evidently an overstatement, but I would indeed like to think that that's principally how I approach photography—as an attempt to overcome challenges in conveying how I feel about something or someone or someplace.

Kishan, Ben and Jean.

Metal barstool and shadow, with stacked wooden chairs.

Remains of supper.

On another note, I mentioned how Lewis Pragasam hasn't been playing the Alexis for a while now. And then, lo and behold, turns out Pragasam and band will be anchoring year-end celebrations at the Alexis!

Friday 30 Dec, 10 p.m.
Saturday 31 Dec, 9 p.m.

Free admission. Come one, come all!

Deepavali 2011

2011-10-26T12:36:00.000+08:00

Mist and roofs.

Diagonal shadow.

'Slow' food, fast food.

The Return of the Bike

2011-10-23T09:11:00.001+08:00

I spent the better part of yesterday morning cleaning and sprucing up my bike, the one my parents gave me for my 21st birthday. An adventure is coming, I hope!

Taken on the first day of Haluansiswa (orientation week) 2009, this is, as far as I know, the only picture of me and my bike, on campus. Somehow I just never got down to asking anyone to take a picture of me riding the bike, although the idea did lurk in the back of my mind for some time.

I told Kaun the other day, after completing his Convo shoot, that, for all the shoots I've done for various friends over the years, there's one shoot I never did—mine! (Except for the MPM shoot, but even that was only at/around DTC.)

And so when I look through the photos of my friends at their shoots, I always tell myself that there's no such thing as a 'bad' Convo shoot, because it is better to at least have photos, than to have none.

Demimu Kurshiah

2011-10-23T08:10:00.000+08:00

Untuk Juin.

Cahaya lampu satu,

Cahaya lampu sayu,

Bunga mekar di waktu malam.

Tiga tahun di tanjung, di tangga,

Setahun lagi hilang (entah ke mana),

Bayu lembut sampaikan salam.

Bagai lilin membakar diri,

Mekar kini

Nescaya mati di siang hari;

Api terpadam, cinta terbenam

Bagai kawan lama, tak kenal lagi.

Jalan lurus, jalan selari

Tapi kita menoleh ke kanan kiri,

Manusia mengejar barang fana.

Bukan sia-sia

Haruman dibawa ke mana jua,

Mengharumkan nama kita berdua--

Kamu dan aku, menunggu, menanti

Bara cinta, biarpun sementara

Bagai mentari, menerangi malam.

Kaun, Kang and Fikri

2011-10-16T23:07:00.000+08:00

Today I did a convo photo shoot for Kaun, Kang and Fikri. Not, of course, my first such shoot, but this one brought back memories, in no small measure because they were some of the people I actually started the whole UM journey with.

I'm down with sore throat (and fever looks like it's just around the corner), but thank God, we completed the shoot. It's been a rather long two weeks, but given the rest I had last week, I can't seem to figure out the cause of this present illness.

Anyway, the thing is, I was reminded of how I was very frequently sick during my undergraduate days. I used to have very long spells of flu, and even during my Student Council campaign I barely did any campaigning as I was down with the flu then, too. I remember re-joining debates at the beginning of my second year, and then withdrawing a few sessions into the semester. This was almost entirely due to fatigue, as I found myself feeling very drowsy and falling asleep almost every session.

And yet, in spite of these recurring seasons of illness, I pushed myself to make the most of my time on campus. I think this is one of the main causes of my irreversible weight loss, and my irreparable facial textures. I pushed myself because I wanted to live life literally to the very fullest; at the end of my three years I was able to look back with pride and satisfaction at everything that I'd been through.

Something that is not widely known, but that people like my ex-roommate, How (and possible Adrian) noticed, was that I was never really interested in photography. It was something I could do, and back in those days before the ultra-proliferation of DSLRs my 'talent' was an asset which I was able to put to some good use.

Nonetheless, the things I enjoyed most were physical activities like cycling, walking and swimming—just exploring every corner of the campus.

On Kaun's convo day, we talked about chasing sunsets. The conversation went like this:

Kaun: Cool sunset wei!
Ben: We can shoot it from Bukit Cinta.
Kaun: By the time we reach, gone dy.
Ben: Then we should chase it.

[pause]

Kaun: That's a good one!

And these were my thoughts after that:

I guess that's what rainbows and sunsets are for - chasing. We had both on Wednesday evening, after the rain. They don't last, and that's precisely why we must go after them while we can.

Congrats again, Kaun. Here's to the sunsets and rainbows we've chased, and will continue to chase!

* * *

Well, guys, today's was one last UM sunset for us all. We really couldn't have asked for a better way to finish this part of the journey. Thanks for inviting me to be a part of it all over again. ;-)

Lanterns at 3rd

2011-09-16T12:57:00.000+08:00

It was after the PKV Junior Visitation on Monday (Mooncake Festival) that I bumped into this group on the way out of college.

This obviously wasn't the official 3rd Lantern Walk. I guessed it was the PM group, having some fun after Haluansiswa last week.

I asked Gabriel, "Ah, all of you PM this year is it?"
He said, "Yeah, second time."
"Hah?! Second time? Oh, you're in third year already!"

I still find it hard to believe that people like Emily are in third year, and people like Firdy, Adila, Hwei and the law gang in fourth/final.

It was so nice to see Uncle and Aunty Foong again. A welcome, familiar sight in a rapidly transforming campus.

Mr & Mrs

2011-09-10T10:18:00.002+08:00

Ryan and Audrey Lo.

Showers of blessings!

Well, not quite yet. It's only 10.00 p.m. on Friday on the other side of the planet.

But here's a hearty congratulations, in advance!

Dewan Tunku Canselor

2011-09-10T07:28:00.001+08:00

[The Dewan Tunku Canselor is] unsurpassed in concrete plasticity. Despite its concrete expression, the building is appropriately tropical and has weathered well over the years. Every year, convocations are still held in this building, which is the iconic centre of the university.

-- Ngiom, on Dato' Kington Loo. From Ngiom (ed.), Shapers of Modern Malaysia. Pertubuhan Arkitek Malaysia 2010.

* * *

They built the KPS Auditorium, they built a ghastly white 'new' Chancellery, and they built a so-called 'second' DTC.

But there will ever always only be one Experimental Theatre, one 'old' Chancellery, and one DTC. Dato' Kington Loo left behind a legacy set in stone, and one that will continue to weather well... just like the students of this age-old institution.

Here's to all of you, to all of us.

Convo 2011. Happening this 3-8 October!

Post-Hōkūle'a

2011-09-07T12:07:00.001+08:00

What was I thinking, camwhoring with a fisheye lens, that night after the 'voyage' on the Hōkūle'a.

The last night of our first leg in Honolulu, before our week on the Big Island.

Good times.

1Malaysia, 1Week to Merdeka

2011-08-27T02:59:00.001+08:00

A few days ago, on Wednesday, I found myself in my favourite part of town. I'd dropped by the camping store (Evergreen) in Campbell Complex, and thereafter decided to have lunch at the Capital Café along Jalan Tuanku Abdul Rahman, opposite Sogo.

It was a colourful and busy day, to say the least. The (daytime) Ramadhan bazaar was in full swing in that area between Jalan Tuanku Abdul Rahman and Jalan Masjid India, and the merdeka mood was in the air with Malaysian flags everywhere. It was then exactly one week to Merdeka (Malaysian Independence Day).

It was after lunch, walking down the road, that I noticed the scene above. Young Malay woman surrounded by textiles in her shop; old Chinese aunty picking up her things; and the Indian money-changer behind the glass of his little kiosk. It was such a 1Malaysia scene, and yet the very sort that the politicians are most likely to miss -- both to miss the presence of the scene, and also the point of it.

I suppose that's because there's really no interaction between the three 'characters': it's almost as if their existence (and differences) is acknowledged but not explicitly referenced in any way. And to me, the 1Malaysia that has always existed is the one where we live together, oblivious to the notion that our differences were/are ever a problem.

You don't see it very much around these days; our hurried, media-saturated lifestyles make it so easy for the wrong kind of propaganda to infiltrate our hearts and minds. But I'd like to think it is alive and thriving in some pockets of the city -- the confluence of people just as Kuala Lumpur is literally a confluence of two rivers.

* * *

Discovered over lunch on Thursday with Li Ern, that she likes Big Fish too.

So I found a clip of the ending on YouTube (not sure where I placed my DVD), and watched it awhile ago. Never fails to leave me teary-eyed, that scene where everything comes together. One of the best endings of any film, ever, I would say.

The reason why I looked it up is not only because of the conversation with Li Ern, but equally, if not more so, because of the events that happened yesterday -- from the news of this little victory and Alissa's email, to the two Skype conversations -- events that made me think about storytelling all over again.

All Our Scars are Stories

2011-08-24T09:22:00.000+08:00

For SEATRU, Slot J 2011.

All our scars are stories,
Ongoing moments alive beyond the healing of the wounds,
Like tracks laid in the sand
Or a deed purchased today in the promise of land for tomorrow.
One hatchling leads, the others follow
Into the ocean, into the night
Into the fight
Into the darkness that awaits--
Braving the dangers because the stories of the sea tell them
Their journey is not in vain;
Like scars that promise we can endure pain again
They depart beneath stars that one day they may return to that land
On which they, as eggs, were lain.

(3.02 p.m., 7 June 2011)

O Mighty Cross, O Tree of Life

2011-08-18T23:37:00.000+08:00

Be my guide, O Lord.

Lead me in the way that I should go.

The Medium is the Message

2011-08-01T12:32:00.000+08:00

Nathan Jones quoted this famous Marshall McLuhan quote in his defence of film photography (link here). One of the things he said about film photography, was that it involved "[transferring] the responsibility for technically competent shots from the near infallible machine to the very fallible me."

And this was the first thing that came to mind when I read about (DPM) Muhyiddin's food stamps proposal. Whatever the merits, or otherwise, of this proposal may be, I leave to parliament--and the thousands of online forum theorists--to debate. What follows are just my wayside thoughts on the subject.

People like SooT believe that moving forward in politics necessitates a move away from the 'policy' framework we are so entrenched in.

I agree, and I believe this also entails a move away from dependence on political systems/parties, and towards a sort-of taking of things into our own hands. And nowhere is this probably more true than in agriculture. For all that SooT and I disagree on, we are agreed that it is probably a good idea to start small community--akin to subsistence--farming.

Have a need? Don't wait for government to meet that need. Transport woes? Get that bicycle out; don't wait for fuel prices to come down, because they won't. No government can stop the rise in prices of a commodity that is only getting scarcer by the day.

The medium is truly the message: long-term sustainability requires a complete overhaul of the way we are leading our lives. Those who know my environmental views intimately, know that I care very little for the Green Movement that is taking the world by storm. My position on the environment is very simple, and twofold: love nature, and live simply. But a simple life is not the way of the world, nor is appreciation for beauty that cannot be price-tagged in our money-driven society.

So regardless of how the Muhyiddin move works out, I'll still have my bicycle. And I'll still be shooting film.

Shirt and Stairs

2011-07-29T10:58:00.000+08:00

Back that way again?

Light Movements

2011-07-27T04:01:00.000+08:00

[G]o out and photograph light. I spent a lot of time doing that years ago, but even today, I will see some interesting light and photograph it just to see what it looks like when photographed. This means literally looking for interesting light to photograph, not subjects. Try going out for an afternoon and just photographing light. You may never feel any of the resulting shots are worthy of printing out and putting on the wall, but I guarantee you will learn a lot about seeing light.

-- Rob Sheppard, Outdoor Photographer article here.

And when I saw the subtle light from the waning sun yesterday evening, I immediately thought of this article which I'd read a few hours before.

For the first time--I don't know why I'd never quite noticed it before--I realised that, while the sun sets, the evening light actually climbs up vertical surfaces. As the sun peeked through the kitchen door, it first illuminated the worktop, working up the wall to the hanging pots and pans, to the cabinets above, before disappearing for the day.

First Movement.

Second Movement.

Third Movement.

Cartier-Bresson on Memory

2011-07-24T20:40:00.001+08:00

Memory is very important, particularly in respect to the recollection of every picture you've taken while you've been galloping at the speed of the scene itself. The photographer must make sure, while he is still in the presence of the unfolding scene, that he hasn't left any gaps, that he has really given expression to the meaning of the scene in its entirety, for afterward it is too late. He is never able to wind the scene backward in order to photograph it all over again.

-- Henri Cartier-Bresson, The Mind's Eye

* * *

It struck me as I read this, that the word 'memory' would mean something quite different to the average photographer today.

Yes, some things have not changed; scenes still cannot be wound backwards in order to be photographed again. However, we now speak of large storage capacity (i.e., digital memory) that is purportedly able to lessen our chances of missing the shots we desire. What I mean is this: a photographer who has enough space on his memory card, can keep firing and worry less about missing critical split-second moments.

Right? Well, it depends. For sports and wildlife photography, I believe so. But for reportage and journalism, I still think the restrictions imposed by the 36 frames of a roll of film (considerably pathetic compared to the hundreds of shots that can be stored on SD or CF cards) helps one craft a story more thoughtfully.

I don't mean that everyone should shift to film (although it wouldn't hurt if they did). But as many have wisely observed, today's digital photographers would do well to practise some of the values of film photography--not least of which is a careful, thoughtful approach to shooting.

No photographer can capture everything, and so in every scene there will always be the 'missed shots'. But the photographer can capture enough of the scene in such a way that will adequately communicate it to the viewer, and that should be the aim, I believe, of photography: not to shoot so much so that nothing more can be added or said, but just enough so that all that needs to be said, is.

Yen at 25

2011-07-21T10:18:00.000+08:00

Four years ago I wrote this post, in which I included a photograph taken at the KLCC park in the company of SooT and David.

This girl was then just beginning her second undergraduate year in UM.

Four years later...

Two years into her master's degree, with an incredible boyfriend to boot, and still as gorgeous as ever!

How much has changed, and how much hasn't?

So once again, happy 25th, Yen!

Cartier-Bresson: l'Amitié, l'Amour existent

2011-07-19T23:29:00.000+08:00

Dans un monde qui s' écroule sous le poids de la reutabilité, envahi par les sirènes ravageuses de la Techno-science, la voracité du pouvoir, par la mondialisation--nouvel esclavage--au delà detout celà, l'Amitié, l'Amour existent.

(In a world that is buckling under the weight of profit-making, that is overrun by the destructive sirens of Techno-science and the power-hunger of globalization--that new brand of slavery--beyond all that, Friendship exists, Love exists.)

~ Henri Cartier-Bresson, 15 May 1998

* * *

I find this quote to be so true.

The words were uttered more or less a decade before social media as we know it took the world by storm. Now many know my stand towards social media platforms like Facebook, but in all honesty (and if I daresay, biaslessness) I'm inclined to agree with Cartier-Bresson that our 'connectedness' is not far from another form of slavery.

And I say this because although Friendship and Love exist even within the 'matrix', they require a source from without the 'matrix'. Friendship and Love within our globalised, techno-ised lives exist only insofar as they penetrate from a reality far greater than any man-made platform can fathom.

900

2011-07-10T04:25:00.003+08:00

My story begins with two Chows, and ends with a third.

Emily, Old Town Bangsar South.

The inspiration for the content of this 900th post came from a teatime chat I had with Emily (Chow) the day I left for the SUSI reunion in Singapore, which took place over the April Fool's weekend.

She marvelled at the size (or lack thereof) of my 'luggage', which comprised the smallest backpack ever (that fantastic JP Morgan bag which has followed me on several memorable trips) and a laptop bag (the enduring East-West Center bag whose zip has just gone bust). Little did I know that I would be outdone by Chow (Geh Tsung) at the reunion, who carried what appeared to be half of what I had.

SUSI/USIE Malaysia, MacRitchie Reservoir, Singapore.
(Photo by kayak station staff.)

Chow (fourth from left) inspires me in many ways, but one that has left a lasting impression is his simplicity. I guess that also frees him up to enjoy life better and be more fully immersed in the moment.

I think it was a Ken Rockwell post that first got me thinking about the concept of simplicity (plus fragments from my d'NA days; I think there was a lot of discussion and input on simplicity, especially of the monastic sort, then). Click here for that Rockwell post.

I guess 900 is a good point to distill what really matters, to share my thoughts on a few things close to my heart at this point in my life:

1. The environment
2. Photography
3. Life lessons learnt, and values going ahead

The year that has been since the 800th post, has been an extremely eventful one, filled with unexpected successes and experiences; things I never believed I could ever be a part of. These include going to the States on SUSI, winning the Royal Education Award, winning IGEM, successfully 'staging' Operation Resurrection, and getting more teaching jobs than I ever thought I would within a year of graduating.

Part of the cast and crew of Operation Resurrection,
Celebration dinner at Poco Homemade, Bangsar.

And then there were the trips. Between March and June, I travelled to six places on seven trips: The Dusun in Negeri Sembilan, twice to Singapore on SUSI-related stuff, Kelantan and the south of Thailand, Redang for SEATRU, Tasik Kenyir, and most recently, Bangkok and the surrounding region. I depart later today for my last trip this season: Kuching.

A preview of the posts and pictures to come:

The Dusun with Tim, Nasha and Mich.

Trip to Kota Bharu, Hat Yai and Songkhla with George.

SEATRU, with Jia Hui, Chern Zhong and Poh Fong.

BF graduation trip to Tasik Kenyir.

Mensa trip to Thailand by rail.

* * *

The Environment

I've always grown up liking nature, and though born and bred in the city--the capital, no less--I've always felt that I belong in the wild. My decision to take up Ecology in university was partly fuelled by this desire to see the natural world in Malaysia, to build on what began as a childhood hobby.

One of the things I never expected was the sudden mushrooming of the present-day environmental movement. Over the last three or four years, the word 'green' progressed gradually from being little more than the colour of the PAS flag, to its current status as the number one buzzword on everyone's lips, whether or not they give two shits about the environment.

In light of this, whenever people asked about what course I was doing and all, I would answer 'Ecology' first, and then whenever I received blank stares accompanied by, "Psychology? Biotechnology?" I would spare my inquisitors the pain and just translate my course as, "Environmental science". And because of the popularity of the word 'environment', those people would immediately think of me as some sort of activist, and go, "Ahhh.." as if they understood what ecology was about.

The more well-informed, of course, know what ecology is. And their replies would be along the lines of, "Oh that's really good, what you're doing; we need more people like you to save the world."

And therein lies the problem. I took up Ecology because I liked it, because I liked nature and plants and animals and natural landscapes. I'm not one of those recreational types who love hiking in forests for the sake of it; on the contrary the forests remind me of homework and assignment and (sometimes) interminable field trips. But I still love the natural world. And I did not take up Ecology in order to save the world or anything.

To me, environmentalism is not just about preserving nature, dealing with energy, population and waste issues. It’s about education and everyday decisions. It’s also about heritage. How did what we have, what we see, what we live in, come to be? Why are these things here? In Hawaii I was led to think about the Polynesians and early settlers; natives and aliens; builders and destroyers.

The practical question, and one which very few are actually considering, is, how do we develop a future-looking perspective that is also informed by the past? (Incidentally it was only while waiting with Nasha for the train from JB Sentral, that I rediscovered that Ramsay Taum mentioned this in his lecture early on in SUSI).

Ramsay shared a Hawaiian quote with us; "I ka wa ma mua, ka wa ma hope", which means, "The future is in the past".

And then, there is this whole dimension of Sustainable Development. To me, there are many sustainable ways to do unsustainable things. What exactly is sustainability anyway?

To this end, I am grateful for the SUSI experience. What I appreciated most was the time we spent in Hawai'i, both on O'ahu and the Big Island, in particular the instances when we could observe and experience first-hand the ways of life of some communities at the forefront of environmental action: not action as in activism, but action as in living out the very ideals the environmental movement is trying to achieve.

Looking through the pictures I prepared for the SUSI slideshow, the overarching theme seemed to be heritage: from the Hawaiian customs, to the buildings and the spaces built by communities past, etc. How are we stewards not just of these gifts, but of the gift of earth itself? How do we appreciate, or else not appreciate, what we have?

Maybe it is because of this, and because of what I see happening to Brickfields (thanks, Poh Wah, for organizing that walk), that I started the Mensa Heritage SIG. And I owe it, in no small part, to my VI days, this awareness of, and interest in, the significance of heritage.

There will be more to write on this subject, but I mention it here because it is one of many ongoing trains of thought in my mind. Although it was my lifelong dream, I opted out of medicine because it seemed a bit saturated; too many friends were doing it. When I chose Ecology, it was practically unheard of by the masses (and it still is, to a certain extent), but the overall worldwide emphasis on 'green' in recent times is turning me off somewhat.

The thing is, I want to continue studying, and the path to a higher degree in Ecology has been all but paved for me. But is it what I really want? And even if it is not what I really want, is it the area in and through which I can make the biggest contribution to society and the world?

* * *

Photography

There is a reason why I am not, in spite of my enduring interest in photography, a professional photographer: I am too much my own person to do things like food, furniture and wedding photography.

It's like when people say, "Ben, you like writing. Why not become a journalist?" Creative writing for fun, and journalistic writing for magazines and newspapers, are quite polar opposites, I should think. The former allows you free rein over your subject matter, content and style, while the latter almost always involves censorship and heavy editing at some point or other.

My thoughts on commercial photography are based on some actual experiences (i.e., jobs) I've had over the last few months. And I am convinced that there is a big difference between the usage of the camera as a 'tool of the trade' and as an artistic device.

With Mustapha Kamal, Experimental Theatre, UM.
(Photo by Tim.)

I was pleasantly surprised to discover that Mustapha Kamal, the architect of the present Experimental Theatre is, like the architect of the Dewan Tunku Canselor complex (the late Dato' Kington Loo), a VI boy. It was only when I met him again at the VIOBA Dinner, that I learnt of this.

We interviewed him for the Operation Resurrection project (an interview I have yet to transcribe, and which is long overdue). Little did I know that a passing remark he made, would leave a lasting impression on me. When we told him we used film for a number of the photographs, he asked if we used those old mechanical cameras. And I said yes, because we did in fact use a mechanical camera, the FM10, for the colour film pictures (including the ones of Fit in the doorway and Yen at the dressing table, below).

'Doorway, North Wing'

Experimental Theatre, UM. Fujichrome Velvia.

'The Dressing Room'

Experimental Theatre, UM. Fujichrome Velvia.

The trip to The Dusun happened a few weeks after the interview with Mustapha Kamal. It so happened that that weekend coincided with Earth Hour, and so I thought it would be a good opportunity to leave all electronic gadgets (save the mobile phone) behind. I thought it would be interesting to sweep the dust off the FM10 and chance the exposures (the meter was somewhat faulty, although it miraculously got better by the next trip, and seems alright now), using negative film.

I've come to the realization that I really like negative film. While slide films look better if you get it right, they are a lot less tolerant of low light, being slow films, and have a relatively poor exposure latitude. Negative films are also cheaper and easier to process; the C-41 chemistry is still available at a number of small-time photo labs, while E-6 is, as far as I know, only available at E-Six in Pudu Plaza and Photo Media, SS2. It also helps that there are really impressive negative films out there like the Kodak Portra family.

Anyway, the long and the short of it is that I've been bringing the FM10 (and the 28mm AI and 105mm AI-s lenses) on a number of my recent trips, and will be bringing it to Sarawak. It has been a liberating experience, using the manual camera again, and while the N80 is still a fantastic film workhorse with second-to-none handling, the FM10 is a very pleasant holiday/trip camera.

One of the most startling revelations of late was Fujifilm's announcement, a few months ago, that it would be discontinuing its Astia slide film, leaving only Velvia and Provia in the professional line, and the consumer Sensia.

I found out when I tried to order a few more packs of Astia via B&H, only to find that it was no longer listed. The only Astia I ever shot, before last year, were the few rolls that Kelvin Chan gave me; I never saw Astia on the shelves here, neither in E-Six, nor in Keat's. And then when I went to the States I purchased 10 rolls, about half of which I shot on SUSI. Later in the year, I ordered another 5-roll pack; now it would seem that these 15 rolls are all I will ever get to shoot.

There are six left, and the last roll I shot (i.e., the 9th) was on the Kelantan/Thailand trip with George. I shall dedicate an upcoming post to Astia, my favourite slide film by far. But for now, here's a sampling of the pictures I took on Astia, in the south of Thailand.

Border crossing, Sungai Golok.

Muslim man, Sungai Kolok train station.

George, train to Hat Yai.

Catholic church, Thanon Thamnoonvithi, Hat Yai.

Four days ago, I finally met the illustrious VI photographer, Chan Bing Fai (picture below, second from left).

Mr Chung (third from left), who is now back in Vancouver, had a lunch appointment with Mr Chan, Mr Vincent Voo (first from left) and one Mr Saw, who was a senior assistant in the school in the early post-Merdeka days. They very graciously invited me, this little boy so many decades removed from them, to join in their luncheon.

It was at Hanazen, Jaya One, and incidentally we bumped into Datuk Mahadev Shankar (fourth from left), who was Mr Chan's ex-classmate.

If I remember correctly, Chan Bing Fai was the first Malaysian photographer to be awarded a Fellowship in the Royal Photographic Society, UK. Mr Chung was singing my praises, and I must admit it was somewhat intimidating to sit next to this great while he was going through the photographs I had brought along to show (selected 8R prints and mounts, plus slides from SUSI).

I'm looking forward to meeting him again to catch up and talk at length about photography. I believe there is so much to learn from the 'old guard'--people like him and Eric Peris who have so many decades of experience to share with the new generation. Photography then was arguably different from photography today, but some principles I believe ought never to be forgotten, and these are not principles you can learn from today's books and photographers, who are much younger than these living legends.

In early April, Nasha and I attended the opening of the 3 Young Contemporaries exhibition at the Valentine Willie Fine Art Gallery in Bangsar Baru a.k.a. Telawiville.

It was Alissa who told me about it. Curated by her supervisor, David Teh (third from right), it featured works by three contemporary Thai photographers; Arin Rungjang (second from right), Kornkrit Jianpinidnan (first from right) and Pratchaya Printhong (absent).

The talk/dialogue at the launch was quite inspiring. I appreciated most of all the insights into photographic philosophy as expressed by the Thai artists; the discourse covered, among other things, photographic logic and the unfairness of life. I jotted most of the dialogue down on a piece of paper.

One question in particular, during the dialogue, stood out among the others. A member of the audience, Erna, asked about defending ‘simple’ pictures, such as shots of everyday furniture, which some viewers disparage as "something even I can shoot". And that's a legitimate question, because a lot of these 'art photographers' often shoot mundane subjects. I see a lot more 'wow factor' in shots taken by some wedding/portrait photographers.

But then, like Alissa says, for these art photographers, a lot of the art lies in how the photograph was made, and the circumstances in which the photograph was taken. There is a lot more context to their work, and it's not always merely about aesthetics that pop.

I think, if you attempt to shoot merely for the aesthetic aspect of it, you would run out of steam after a while. I cannot help feeling that people like Eric Peris and Chan Bing Fai need a much more solid driving force than merely 'pretty pictures' to keep them going all these years. Photography becomes something of a discipline, an exploration of the world, which, now and then, yields truly spectacular results, but which must, like any other discipline, be undertaken with patience and perseverance especially in seasons of photographic 'drought'.

With Eric Chan.
(Photo by Tim.)

Eric's last big job from his Puncak Bukit Jalil base, was preparing the prints for Operation Resurrection. I owe it to Doulos for discovering this amazing photographer, and to Eric himself for guiding and encouraging me in developing (no pun intended!) my photographic technique, especially in black-and-white.

When I told Mich that Eric had shut down shop, her first reaction was, "Eric really quit dy? Not even taking pics issit?"

My answer was probably truer than I knew it to be: "Still taking pics. Photographers may quit their services like printing and all, but they never really quit taking pics. At least, the real ones, the great ones, never do."

Tim and the new Chancellery. T-Max 100.

And the experiments haven't ceased! This roll of film was developed in 'caffenol' (quite a lot of information online; for a good intro try this link), a combination of vitamin C and coffee, an everyday alternative to more expensive film chemicals. The best part is that it actually works, albeit with much longer development times.

One of my ongoing reads is Geoff Dyer's book, The Ongoing Moment, an extended essay on photography, in particular its development in America in the first half of the 20th century. There is no doubt in my mind that, in the last few years, I’ve really built up my technique, but as I expressed to Yen, there is now a need to put some muscle into themes, subject matter, etc; to narrow the scope, and deepen the art, of my photography.

In a way this has brought me back to thinking about my photographic roots. I owe it to Tsu Wern for asking me shortly after the Kenyir trip, "Why photography?"

My reply was somewhat lengthy, and perhaps I will share all of it in an upcoming post, but this was the opening of my reply:

It seems that these days, it is nearly impossible for people not to associate me with my camera and/or photography. But it wasn't always the case. I only started taking photos in Form 5; before that I took watercolour painting classes from Form 1 to Form 5.

My foray into photography began as an attempt to record things that happened in class; and it started with a really simple point-and-shoot film camera. I took pictures of classmates, of lab sessions, of crazy things VI fifth formers do (including 'fly' school by jumping over the wall) and so on. I brought this same camera to NS and shot 20-something rolls of film there (if I remember correctly). Then I got the digital camera, which I used throughout our Form 6 days.

* * *

Values

So what have I learnt since post number 800? What are some of the most important life lessons I would do well never to forget?

1. It always pays to wake early.

Nowhere was this more true than that morning when Sai Dong and I decided to rise early and go hiking with John Cusick and Sandy the Labrador, on the hills near the University of Hawai'i, Manoa. It was our last day in Hawai'i, and while the rest of the company were fast asleep after last night's dinner at the Thai restaurant, Sabai Dee, we were up and viewing Honolulu from a radically different point of view.

2. It’s not worth fighting and being sour.

Nasha at Muse, Jaya One.

One of the most unpleasant experiences of the past year was the argument, and subsequent cold period, with Nasha in the States. Deep inside I hoped and prayed that we would be able to talk again, never quite expecting that we'd become such good friends in the months ahead. In Nasha's own words, "Life is too short to be angry at each other."

3. Romans 5.

Suffering produces endurance; endurance, character; character, hope; and hope does not put us to shame.

4. Never stop, never quit.

In a sermon, Pastor Sunita said, "Discouragement is to stop moving, to quit."

I ended my Convocation speech with the Martin Luther King Jr quote; "If you can't fly, run; if you can't run, walk; if you can't walk, crawl; but by all means, keep moving.” And it seemed to leave enough of an impression on the Chancellor, Sultan Azlan Shah of Perak, for him to quote it back to me at the post-ceremony reception.

One of the most heartwarming movies I watched in the previous year was Crazy Heart, which won Jeff Bridges his first Oscar in five nominations over four decades. At the turning point in the movie, Robert Duvall's character tells Bad Blake (Jeff Bridges) that it's never too late to try again. And I think that's true of Jeff Bridges, how he's been at it all these years without giving up.

It's like that line in the epic Seabiscuit (another movie starring Bridges); "You don't throw a life away just because it's a little banged up."

I continue to be driven by the realisation U2 had after the PopMart tour, before their incredible comeback with All That You Can’t Leave Behind, which Bono summed up like this; "Deep down inside we weren’t as shallow as we’d like."

* * *

This story ends, as I said it would, with another Chow: Samantha Chow, of Mensa.

What can I say, this incredible young woman, barely 21 and already on the verge of taking over the world in her own way.

Samantha at the Rama VIII Bridge, Bangkok.

When she shared her thoughts on turning 21 soon, and the responsibilities that will come with it, I realised that I probably only turned '21' on my 23rd birthday; almost as if time stood still for a couple of years in University. Or maybe it was Form Six; you grow up, but you take your time doing so.

Celebrating both Mother's and Father's Day this year at Ben's (where else?) in KLCC, it felt like celebrating them for the first time in a long time. I think the world changes when you begin to learn what it is like to occupy your parents' shoes; perhaps the best gift a son can give his father, is to be a good father to his own son.

And nowhere does this hit home more clearly than when I see Dad with Ah Kong, when I ask myself what sort of father I will be to my own children when the time comes; will I honour my own father and grandfathers in the way I conduct myself as a father (and, God willing) a grandfather?

Perhaps the deepest-driving lesson from the past year, was one which manifested itself graphically as the train rattled into, and then out of, the Taiping station on our way to Butterworth a couple of weeks ago.

The station itself is under renovation, undergoing what I can only imagine must be a relatively massive transformation into something along the lines of the modern-ish stations of southern Perak. This means that the photos I managed to get of it, during the d'NA trip in 2009, and on the way to Penang from Ipoh last September, above, are the first and last I'll have of one of Malaysia's very earliest train stations, pre-renovation.

I do not bemoan the loss of the 'old look'; certainly things change and with renovations come many much-needed upgrades. I do, however, celebrate the beauty and character of the Taiping station--this most historical of Malaysia's railway stations.

And the lesson is this: whatever the future may bring, the best parts of the past go with you.

I like what Bono said when he introduced 'Miracle Drug' at the Chicago 2005 concert:

We don't really look back in our music, we don't look at the past. The best bits of the past we try to bring with us. There are songs, songs like 'Pride (In the Name of Love)', songs like 'Sunday Bloody Sunday', songs like 'Where the Streets Have No Name'. They're the best bits of the past and we'll take them with us. 'Cause we're interested, we're excited, we have faith in the future. That's where we're headed.

The best bits of the past we'll take with us.

Pastor Augustin prays for the Kits, Bangsar Lutheran Church.

Saying goodbye to Sivin and the Kits was something of a coming-of-age experience, I think not only for myself, but for The Father's House, the community Sivin spent the last decade building and nurturing. It reminds me of what St Paul wrote; that he may have planted the seed and Apollos may have watered it, but only God causes growth.

A reminder that churches do not survive, let alone thrive, on the power of man (or the power of a man), but by the grace and power of Almighty God. But then God works through the hands and feet and minds and mouths of men and women, and in a sense saying goodbye to Sivin was an ironic reminder of the bittersweet verse he so aptly chose as the 'motto' of the Bangsar Lutheran Church:

"As the Father has sent me, I send you." - John 20:21.

It never really made sense to me when I first heard it, a teenage boy of 16 then. Over the years its meaning would slowly sink in; the height of the command, the depth of the promise, the sadness of knowing it was one of the many ways Jesus would say goodbye. I cannot help but feel that the disciples of Jesus must have carried these words of his, truly to the very ends of the earth.

Pastor Augustin Muthusami is quite different from Sivin, but I suspect we trust him, not so much because he's one of many Lutheran ministers ordained by God (perhaps if we had more faith we would trust on such grounds)--but I suspect we trust him because Sivin entrusted us to him. It's one thing when the church appoints any other someone to replace your outgoing pastor; it's another when that replacement is your outgoing pastor's best friend.

I like what Pastor Augustin said at the Genting retreat when I asked him which was his favourite Star Wars character. "Darth Vader. Here was someone dressed entirely in black, and there was no doubt that he was evil. And he could go to council meetings and if he didn't like anyone he could strangle them." That sure took us aback; and for a moment we wondered if it was a thinly veiled message for the BLC council!

But the 'Darth Vader' pastor of BLC has been doing, in my opinion, a great job so far of steering the church into the next phase of its existence.

Ben and Li-Shia, VIOBA Dinner at the Royale Chulan.
(Photo, I think, by Azim.)

Going to the VIOBA Dinner with her, it really felt like the last four years did not happen.

The people we met, the questions we fielded, the smiles we so kindly and politely returned.

You see, if it were any other community, I wouldn't have thought twice about that night. But these are Victorians, who are living and breathing and laughing and partying many decades long after they have had any right to; people like Mr Chung who are not content just sitting down and waiting for life to pass him by.

They make me wonder about where and what I want to be many years hence. And so I cannot evade Praba's prompt, "Big picture, Ben. Think about what you want. 30 ringgit? Is that what you want?"

And I cannot think about the future while simultaneously ignoring the past. Ramsay Taum, "The future is in the past." There are some things, I think, we really cannot leave behind.

It is 2.00 a.m. now, on Sunday, and I just woke up from a three-hour nap, unfortunately missing Gran Torino. But in that dream I was at the ISKL, and I won the Extemp Gold again, and Zer Ken (I think) won the OO Gold. What an unusual dream.

The VI has been on my mind in so many ways, from the dinner to the Kenyir trip, from returning on the day of the Indian High Commission's Rabindranath Tagore celebrations, to the day out with Mr Chung and company, meeting Chan Bing Fai, Vincent Voo and M. Shanmughalingam.

In less than 11 hours I will be on my way to the other side of the country with this girl. How much has indeed changed over the years? Sometimes I feel, so much, and also so little. I am looking forward to the trip, but also loathing it; and yet, after all these years what is enjoyment and what is dread? What is sorrow and what is joy? Who are those people you're not interested in talking to, and yet talk to anyway?

I remember that late night--or was it an early morning?--when I shared with Mum. And she said, "I know exactly what you mean." And her answer, "Aunty Siew Khim."

Perhaps my recent exchange with SooT over email can best be summarised: the unchanging faces amidst the faces of change.

d'NAers, Robot Sushi, One Utama.

d'NAers, Oval, One Utama.

Coming to eight years, strength to strength. Praise be to He who brought us together in the first place.

Bumping into Bei Shan at the junction of Rama IV and Surawong might have been a most uncanny coincidence, so much so that, I realised that very moment C.S. Lewis was right: a few minutes' difference, a walk taken or else not taken, is all it takes to prevent or permit two people from meeting for the first time, for ever.

* * *

Epilogue

Two significant things happened yesterday: the first was the Bersih 2.0 rally, which Yen and I followed with more than the usual degree of interest. The second was my pleasant surprise at the articles on local trains in The Star.

The articles can be found, albeit with fewer pictures than appeared in print, at the following links:

1. End of the Line
2. Trainspotting in the Klang Valley

Undoubtedly it was the recent termination of the Tanjong Pagar station in Singapore that has generated all this railway-related buzz. A generation is coming that may never know what rail (real!) travel is, with the advent of somewhat more convenient, and faster, air travel. I'm glad to have been born somewhere in between, and to have actually experienced taking the train from the Old Railway Station in KL, instead of from KL Sentral.

Sultan Ibrahim of Johor on why he drove the last train out of Tanjong Pagar, here.

And then I wondered if I might be able to link the two for an epilogue of sorts to this post.

Family on Raya eve, Taiping station.

This photograph was taken at the Taiping station last year, en route to Penang from Ipoh. I think it was the very eve of Raya, and I can only imagine the understated excitement that must have been bubbling in this family who had just endured the longish journey home.

I don't know if I realised it then, but I like how the Malaysian flag features in this picture. And I like how its colours are intact in spite of how Ektar practically jazzed everything else in the odd (I think) sulphur lamplight of the station.

Ekspres Rakyat crossing Tasik Bukit Merah.

This was taken on the journey from Penang, back to KL. It was, in some ways, my take on an Eric Peris classic, 'The Ekspres Rakyat crosses Tasik Bukit Merah'. Indeed Ruth and I were on the Ekspres Rakyat (Citizen's/People's Express) that morning, and I was shooting the scene from within the very train Peris shot from a position in between the tracks and the lake.

In his photograph, the train is but a blip in the distance, a somewhat static presence slowly but surely entering an otherwise serene scene. In mine, the train is a roaring vessel, speeding across the lake; and you can see this speed in the blurred grass (thanks, in part, to Velvia 50, which necessitated a slower shutter speed than I might have liked to use).

[Oh no.. 'speed' and 'grass' in the same sentence. No reference to non-photographic substances!]

Remember that old Curtis Mayfield song, 'People Get Ready'?

People get ready, there's a train a-comin'
You don't need no baggage, just to get on board
All you need is faith to hear the diesel's hummin'
You don't need no ticket, you just thank the Lord.

I wonder why he chose the train as a metaphor for social change. Maybe it's the momentum of trains, something relatively unstoppable. Or maybe it's how trains are such powerful equalisers, where everyone is a fellow passenger, a traveller on the same road.

Bersih and the People's Express, the trains that unite us in spite of all our differences. This relic of colonial Malaysia that has become so much a part of our fabric; the people of all walks of life who board the same trains to the same destinations, who travel the same routes in the truest spirit of the 'one Malaysia'.

This is Malaysia. This is my country.

This is who I am.

Lens Stories

2011-05-30T17:31:00.001+08:00

As I look forward to the many trips that await me over the next two months, I find myself spoilt for choice over which lenses to bring (or add to my collection!).

Lately, I am eyeing the Nikon 85mm f/1.8 AF-D, touted to be among the best lenses for portrait work. I love my 105mm f/2.5 AI-s lens, but it can be difficult to use in the field owing to its being a manual-focus lens. While people usually hold still for portraits, short telephotos are also good for action photography, for which autofocus is a huge advantage. Plus, the large 1.8 aperture would suit film perfectly.

And the other day, I saw that the 24mm f/2.8 AF-D had surfaced again. Everytime one comes out of hiding, I contemplate buying it and take so long that someone or other invariably buys it before I can. I have an excellent 18-35mm lens, but the 24 offers wide-angle performance at half the size of the 18-35, along with the excellent 52mm filter diameter.

Both these lenses cost upwards of RM1000. There is no doubt that they are worth the money, but I'm wondering if I should just work with what I have first, and shelve the experiment for a few months, to a year, later.

* * *

70-210mm f/4-5.6 AF, resurrected

One of my favourite lenses, it came apart on the day of the Chinese Premier's visit. Fortunately, Tim brought his 55-200mm DX lens along, which surprisingly worked perfectly well (with VR!) on my N80.

It cost me RM150 to repair it at YL.

It is the lens I used for most of the BF trip to Kuala Selangor. And it is one of the lenses I brought to the States, which, in retrospect, I don't think I could have done without. The f/2.8 zoom, in contrast, would have been too heavy to lug around.

Halema'uma'u Crater at sunrise.

Even with the slow f/4-5.6 aperture, and the 100 ISO of Fuji's Astia film, I got away with some really nice pictures of the volcanic crater.

Nasha at Halema'uma'u.

It doesn't have a killer f/2.8 aperture (often considered a must for portraits), but I don't see this portrait any the weaker for that.

In Washington, D.C., on one of those mornings after a stressful previous day, I took a walk and carried nothing but the 70-210mm, looking for photo opportunities around Dupont Circle.

Joggers.

Comedian Alex Powers and Parker, the Shetland Sheepdog.

Books-a-Million.

The escalator down to the Metro station. I love that Whitman quote; so melancholic yet so true of what that week was like.

Ironically, sometime in late 2009 (or early 2010), I'd wanted to sell it to help finance an f/2.8 zoom. When Daniel Khong said it was good (he tried it over supper one night at Sahur), I didn't think much of his comment.

I guess as time goes by, and I use it more and more, I find it harder and harder to give up. I remember how nervous I was, wondering then in early 2009 if I should purchase it. It wasn't a particularly huge purchase, but I was so undecided then. But she said to go ahead. And in no small way, because of her, I did it. Today, it ranks among one of the best photographic decisions I'd ever made.

* * *

So, on the one hand, I have this lust for new fast-and-light primes, the 24mm and 85mm. On the other, I have excellent wide and tele zooms, the 18-35mm and 70-210mm, that have hitherto served me well in spite of their small apertures.

The trouble with having all these lenses, is that no matter what their limitations, I have always seemed to work around them to produce decent, memorable and, once in a while, downright impressive, photographs.

Speaking of limitations, this brings me to the third path I am now considering. My film work really took off when I started using the FM10 (thanks, Teachers' Christian Fellowship!) in early 2009. That manual camera doesn't tolerate camera shake nearly as much as the N80, and after an accident in Honolulu, has metering issues.

As system, the N80 works somewhat better with slow lenses, than the FM10 does with fast ones, mainly because the N80 is such a steady camera even at slow shutter speeds, and somewhat more solidly built, too. But the FM10 has a few small, yet significant, advantages over the N80: it is smaller and lighter, does not require batteries, and is an absolute joy to use with my manual-focus lenses owing to its large split-screen focusing viewfinder.

Without a meter, however, I'm left in a bit of a lurch. Tim says my 'inbuilt meter' is quite good (judging from my pictures of The Dusun), but that is partly because I used relatively forgiving negative film. There are two ways around this: use slide film and learn to meter without a meter, the hard way; or, use negative film and take advantage of the 2-stop-each-way buffer.

I lean more towards the second option, as I can't risk slide film at this point, and I don't think I can afford, financially, those mistakes either!

* * *

What is really compelling about using the FM10, is the choice of lenses I have. I've always been reluctant to let go of my 28mm and 105mm AI (manual focus) lenses. They are, as Rockwell describes, works of mechanical perfection. In his own words on the 28mm, "You won't appreciate its image quality and mechanical precision until you use one for yourself."

I first put it through its paces in Taiping, here. The header picture on this blog was taken with it.

Taiping train station, Ilford FP4.

Old KL station; not long after, the intercity train would no longer stop at this station. This is one of those 'last of' pictures. Ilford FP4.

SUSI, one crazy Saturday morning, hiking up Diamond Head in Honolulu. Kodak Tri-X.

The following pictures were, so to speak, self-metered. The meter hasn't been too reliable lately. (Although I must say, it performed spectacularly on the Thailand trip. More on that later.)

Dusun pictures shot on Fuji Pro 400H, Singapore pictures on Kodak Ektar 100.

Mich, Nasha and Tim; Tembusu House at The Dusun.

Mich stretches her legs in a river in the Berembun forest reserve.

Christina and Dingyen, Marina Barrage café, Singapore.

On the rooftop park, Marine Barrage, Singapore.

* * *

The 105mm f/2.5 Ai-S lens, like the 28mm, has been a solid performer since I first used it. Its claim to fame would probably include surviving quite a fall in Taiping, when I did not realise it was on my lap upon exiting the Land Rover. And so it went crashing to the tar road from over a metre high.

One minor dent on the filter thread (which has made attaching filters a pain) but otherwise it is cranking out great photos like nobody's business.

Allied Veterans' cemetery, Taiping. Ilford FP4.

Table detail, Tembusu House, The Dusun.

Mich in the morning, Tembusu House, The Dusun.

Nasha and Zul, Marina Barrage rooftop park, with a view of the Marina Bay Sands in the background.

Hyma, Desa Parkcity. Kodak Portra 160NC.

George, Desa Parkcity.

What I like about the 105mm is that, at maximum aperture, the out of focus highlights are circular. The bokeh is much better than that of the perennial favourite budget 'portrait' lens, the 50mm f/1.8 (which on DX-crop DSLRs is equivalent to a 75mm).

Also, 105mm provides a tighter crop than the 75mm-equivalent 50mm, which is better for head-shots.

* * *

Just a bit of a postscript here, since it's just a few days over a year ago that I first set foot in the States.

I’d brought to Hawai’i only the FM10, with 4 lenses (28mm, 50mm, 105mm and 70-210mm), not expecting to:

1. Find the N80 (which worked miracles with the 70-210 and unleashed its true potential)
2. Rent the 16mm fisheye (which produced some really memorable, killer shots)
3. Get the 18-35mm (which opened a whole new world of practical wide-angle)
4. Rent the 14mm (which produced some interesting perspective shots in D.C.)

Of course, along the way, there were a couple of (relatively) ill-advised decisions, like renting the 70-200mm. A great wedding and indoor stage photography lens it may be, it is the embodiment of masochism for the travel photographer.

I was glad I’d researched photo stores in Hawai’i, and ordered film from B&H before flying over. That's how I found the miracle Hawai'i Camera shop on Waialae Avenue:

And then there was the eleventh-hour collecting of my B&H parcel from the UPS station, both of these happening the day before we headed to the Big Island. All these things falling into place, thanks in so many ways to Christina and Lance, who were patient enough to entertain a mad Malaysian photographer's requests!

Had they not done so, I wouldn't have made most of the Big Island pictures.

Hawai'i has lots of great photo resources (well, actually only two, but they're all anyone needs!). One is Hawai'i Camera, and the other is Rainbow Photo Video, across the road from Wal-Mart.

* * *

Everywhere I went in the States, I carried a lot more baggage than I should've. I'm glad I travel much lighter these days.

The trip to The Dusun happened the same day as Earth Hour this year, and I think simplicity is a big part of what environmental consciousness is all about, i.e., the eschewing of a commercially driven lifestyle and all these 'creature comforts' we could learn to live without.

Finally, though they may never read this, I'd like to thank Kelvin Chan and Jonathan Siao.

Kelvin, for giving me that whole batch of expired slide film, which worked perfectly!

Jon, for selling me your EOS 300. It's an excellent camera, and it was used to take a good portion of the E.T. photos, but above all, it got me going on a path I don't think I can ever really turn my back on!

Operation Resurrection, 2008-2011

2011-04-23T12:53:00.003+08:00

I find that it is the random daily occurrences that are the easiest to write about in a blog post. Those long, deep, meaningful journeys are much harder. For how does one find adequate words to express just what such journeys mean?

Operation Resurrection was taken down yesterday, albeit on short notice because the display boards are, apparently, needed for an exhibition that will be prepared in conjunction with the Chinese Premier's visit to the university next week.

Such is the irony: the exhibition that went up on Ash Wednesday (9 March) was taken down on Good Friday (22 April) and will, it is hoped, be resurrected soon enough once the E.T. itself is ready to house the works.

But I am getting ahead of myself.

* * *

Operation Resurrection is the culmination of everything that the University of Malaya has meant to me over the past three years; it is, in many ways, the summary of my life as an undergraduate.

I will not go into length about the exhibition here. Like the MPH Search win, the experience was so much more than words could ever describe, and I will probably revisit it from time to time. Like the MPH Search also, I don't think I will ever forget what it was like, to go through the preparations and see it through to its triumphant culmination.

It all began when Kaun and I 'illegally' let ourselves into the (then) out-of-bounds Experimental Theatre (E.T.) behind the Dewan Tunku Canselor (D.T.C.), in April 2008. We wore blazers (can't remember why) and carried backpacks. We were denied an audience with then Vice-Chancellor Datuk Rafiah Salim, and shoo-ed away (with a warning not to enter the E.T.) by an administrative official (an Indian man) in the reception area of the VC's office.

But upon reaching the barricades around the E.T., we found that there was an opening, and some labourers were hanging around. We asked if we could go in and have a look; they said OK. What we saw blew our minds. Armed only with Kaun's camera phone, we took a few snapshots. I can't remember if we'd ever thought we'd come back.

Over a year later, in August 2009, I was keen on doing something on Merdeka Day. What ended up as a romp through town involving myself, George, Hannah, Ruth Choy and Hyma, began as a morning exploration of the E.T. by all except Hyma. This time, I went in with the wide-angle lens and got quite a bit of decent footage.

It was really the announcement of the E.T.'s impending restoration that got us rolling out the random idea into a full-fledged project. Then Deputy Vice-Chancellor for Development, Datuk Khaw Lake Tee (above; photo by Alan Teong), issued a notice on UMISISWEB stating that restoration works would commence near the end of 2009. Knowing that the E.T. would never look the same again, we proposed a photo shoot to Datuk Khaw; George and I went to see her in person. She liked the idea, and soon enough we got the go-ahead from the (then relatively new) VC, Datuk Ghauth Jasmon.

The process of gaining access into the construction site was an arduous one. Suffice to say, the JPPHB (Department of Asset Maintenance and Development) was a thorough pain to work with, first demanding that every member of the team obtain Green Cards (standard procedure for construction site personnel), but then later changing their minds when it became obvious that we would not be able to obtain the Green Cards prior to commencement of works.

But that was not the main problem; the issue at the centre of it was that the JPPHB personnel assigned to assist us on the project, did not conduct themselves very professionally, in terms of the scheduling of meetings, efficiency in replying email, and in their general knowledge of the E.T. and enthusiasm for the project. Nonetheless, by the grace of God we got everything mvoing.

Principal shooting was on 24 October 2009, and for this we came in with models, props, musical instruments, and a primitive but nevertheless impressive lighting rig. We'd wanted to shoot through the night, but the contractor had us shoo-ed out by late evening as there was, apparently, no one to supervise our work at night.

We had the black-and-white footage developed at Eric's, and the rest done at E-Six. Scanning was at E-Six; I had then not yet known of the existence of Applied Imaging in TTDI, which is, as far as I know, the best place around for scanning.

Dr Nor Edzan, the Chief Librarian, came to know of the project through Datuk Khaw. She expressed an interest in preserving a copy of the photographs taken, and so talks with the Library commenced shortly after principal shooting. Kaun, Hannah and I went to see Dr Nor Edzan at that first meeting, and she was very supportive and enthusiastic. However, that was also the time that the Library was getting a lot of upgrading work done, and so our project was pushed aside for a while.

We jump-started it a year later, after Convocation 2010, and within a few months had the exhibition up and running. In contrast to the JPPHB, the Library was an absolute pleasure to work with. En Mahbob Yusof, the Deputy Chief Librarian assigned to oversee the project, was enthusiastic and supportive, and as a photographer himself, understood where we were coming from.

Although the budget was slashed heavily from what was initially suggested by Dr Nor Edzan herself, we were able to find a fantastic printer at a reasonable price in the Ng family of Photo Media, SS2. Boon and Winnie of Aidea Art & Frame in Hock Choon, Jalan Ampang, did the framing for us. The black-and-whites were hand-printed by Eric himself, as a fitting closure to our work on this project, as well as the last major project he would undertake before going on hiatus.

* * *

There is so much more to be said, but I shall let the following do the talking for me.

The Star ran an article on our exhibition. Written by Allan Koay, you can find the online version here.

But for the original article as it appeared in print, click here. There is one very telling difference: the title was changed from "Witness to a Resurrection" to "Witness to Revival of UM's Experimental Theatre". Someone must've felt the Christian references were a little too overt!

Sivin's comment to that was, "From resurrection to revival? :-) Well done."

A lot more resources and information can be found on the project's blog, here.

Among other things, there's a video of the set-up, pictures of the launch and profiles of the team members. Coming soon, updates and snapshots of some of the first few shows at the E.T., and a transcription of an exclusive interview with the architect, Mustapha Kamal.

* * *

I would like to dedicate this exhibition to Kaun and Yen, two people who made every moment of my life in U.M. worth living.

Yen remains, as SooT has aptly described, my favourite model. A personal highlight of the whole process was the making of the concept shots; the girl in the changing room, the Staircase Cinderella, the girl who traipsed in, and many others that did not make the final selection.

In retrospect, I told Yen, the one photograph that probably best summarises how I feel about the whole thing (the shoot as well as the E.T. itself), is the one in the dressing room (published in the Star article, linked above). Somehow, I'd wanted, more than any other shot, to get that one right. Which may explain why I blew nearly a third of the roll of Velvia on that same angle, same scene. After a whole morning of shooting, it felt as though we'd finally settled upon something special, something different from all the earlier shots.

And so it turned out to be, at least in my opinion, a picture that had 'timeless' written all over it.

* * *

I would also like to thank Tim, George, Fit and Adila.

Tim, for enduring everything from that first meeting with Datuk Ghauth, for all the work on the hardware and logistics, and for sorting through all the nitty-gritty of actually putting up an exhibition.

George, for August 2009; for giving me hope that my third and final year could be the best of my undergraduate life. And indeed it was.

Fit, for sticking through all the admin work, for accompanying us throughout the entire project.

Adila, for being the best Library liaison we never knew we could have.

LAB Tour, December 2010

2011-04-08T23:30:00.001+08:00

The LAB Tour was undertaken in the company of Suit Lin, Adelene, Jia Hui, George and Tim, from 9-13 December last year. Ask any of us and we'll tell you what 'LAB' stands for; I would like, however, to remain off the record on this blog.

George, Adelene and I travelled northwards on Thursday night, picking Jia Hui up from Ipoh en route, arriving in Arau on a drizzly Friday morning. George and I spent the day exploring the smallest state in Malaysia (at 821 square kilometres still bigger than the 710-square-kilometre Singapore), and we concluded the day with a brilliant sunset at Kuala Perlis, where Tim joined us for dinner, having flown into Langkawi that evening.

The next couple of days were spent on Langkawi. Tim returned to KL Sunday night, while the rest of us headed back to Arau on Monday. It was an unfortunately overcast and rainy trip, but thoroughly enjoyable nevertheless. Ironically, the best weather was to be had in Perlis instead of Langkawi; whether the sun goes on holiday over the weekend, or whether Perlis is just sunny, I don't know for sure.

We had three film SLRs, two DSLRs and an iPhone on the trip.

This was our adventure.

* * *

Fare forward, travellers! not escaping from the past
Into different lives, or into any future;
You are not the same people who left that station
Or who will arrive at any terminus,
While the narrowing rails slide together behind you;

-- T.S. Eliot, from 'The Dry Salvages'

I think Eliot had this in mind when he wrote of the 'narrowing rails' sliding behind the train. We were fortunate enough to ride in the last car, and so had a first-class view to the world we were leaving behind as we travelled north.

Being a night train, this was only possible once we were near Alor Setar, but what a view it was, witnessing the transformation of night into day!

A view of the rolling Kedahan countryside from one of the doors on the train. Another reason why I love the old train so much; it doesn't seal you up as in planes and buses. Of course, you can wind the window down on cars, but then roads don't take you into the heart of the country; rails do.

Arrival in Arau, around seven or eight o'clock.

It started to drizzle and the rest of the morning was somewhat wet. We had a decent enough breakfast at one of the coffee shops in town, before checking into the MLC Motel near the Perlis Matriculation College (Kolej Matrikulasi Perlis), where Suit Lin teaches.

While Adelene and Jia Hui opted to stay in and rest in the afternoon, George and I set out to explore the state in Suit Lin's Viva, with him on the wheel and me (as usual) on map and compass. (Yes, the traditional navigational tools; I don't quite believe in GPS, and always take Google Maps with a pinch of salt.)

First stop was the Timah Tasoh lake, which is actually a large dam, reflected in its Malay name, Empangan Timah Tasoh. At a whopping 1300 hectares, it is only 700 hectares shy of Singapore's 2000-hectare Central Catchment Nature Reserve, and the latter has to provide for a population 25 times larger than that of Perlis.

The largest Mimosa leaves George and I had ever seen.

We travelled right up to the Malaysia-Thailand border, and the signboards along the way started hinting that we were drawing near.

South of the border, we found ourselves in Chuping, home of Malaysia's largest sugar cane plantation. Apparently it also holds the national title for hottest temperature ever recorded.

Near the flag roundabout in the previous picture, was this corn gerai. Pretty good stuff, and a most welcome tea for two hungry young men who had not lunched!

Naturally, a cob of corn wasn't going to be enough, and so when we got back we took a walk around the block and landed in this corner shop which served, among other things, nasi ayam wongges. It turned out to be something of a rather tasty chicken rice-chop hybrid.

That evening, we drove to Kuala Perlis on the coast. The sunset was, as Suit Lin predicted, marvellous.

Another take on the sunset. I wanted to deviate from the typical sunset composition, which is, among other things, usually a horizontal picture with lots of clouds. Here, I wanted to explore, a little more exclusively, the textures of light and water.

We had dinner at a seafood restaurant which had hosted, among other guests, the Raja of Perlis.

The next morning, we took a ferry across to Langkawi. Upon arrival, we checked into the Grand Beach Motel on Pantai Cenang, and set out for lunch.

It was an overcast day, and it drizzled most of the way. Nevertheless, we were able to get out of the chilly rain and into the (relative) warmth of the Red Tomato, where we had a hearty lunch of pizza, said by Lonely Planet to be 'some of the best on the island'.

Jesus Christ was there, too. ;-)

Humans, papayas and chickens. The kind of scene you would expect only at a tropical beach. For the grey day that it was, the evening brought slivers of sun and warmth.

Later that night, we had dinner at an Arabic food establishment, and had drinks on the beach at the Babylon Bar near the motel.

Sunday morning was spent hiking up and around the Seven Wells (Telaga Tujuh) in the northwestern part of the island, albeit in the rain. It was no mean feat climbing the steps to the 'wells', which are actually a series of connected pools; we really learnt the meaning of 'we get to carry each other'.

Tim, George and I went further on and further up into the hills above the wells. We didn't reach the highest point, but the views from up here were good enough.

I seem to realise, after many hills climbed, that the peak rarely offers the best views of the surrounding landscape. Often, the 'peak' is an isolated enclave surrounded by impenetrable vegetation. The more enjoyable parts of the hike are almost always along the way.

River, near Telaga Tujuh.

The Mat Salleh and the macaque, Telaga Tujuh.

We went cycling that evening; well, Jia Hui and Adelene mostly, anyway. There were only two bikes available, so George, Suit Lin and I took a leisurely walk to the southern end of Pantai Cenang while Tim stayed behind to munch on chocolate (he developed an obsession with Ritter Sport's yoghurt milk chocolate).

When the trip was first mooted (as early as Ipoh, I think), Adele expressed interest and said we might be able to stay at Bank Negara's accommodation on the island. It certainly looked quite grand!

In contrast to the first evening on the island, Sunday evening brought us overcast skies. Still, it made for a pleasant walk and some soft, muted photographs.

The sunset was nothing like the one in Kuala Perlis. Still, it had its charms; the great ball of fire struggling against the low-lying clouds. In fact, the day before, George made some dramatic shots of the sea, using the inclement weather to his advantage.

The five of us are cast as shadows across the sand, while Tim gazes out at the sea and a trio of of people walk into the distance. I like how the scene seems divided into two zones differentiated by the colour of light.

Exposure was one second at f/3.5.

Tim parted ways with us after dinner at the Thai restaurant a couple of lots away from the motel. Later, George and I cycled further south towards Pantai Tengah (never actually arriving as the road was very dark and wound uphill) before returning the bikes.

We came across this building under construction. Reminded us of the E.T. and other architectural landmarks, well-known and obscure, around town.

This was a two-second exposure. Exceptionally sharp for a hand-held effort if I do say so myself!

We spent the night at the 1812 Bar, which received glowing reviews in Lonely Planet. The place is simple, but it's worth visiting for the host/owner/barman alone, an Englishman from Bolton named Joe. We found ourselves in the company of some Irish (or was it French?) tourists.

The sign outside the bar read, "Our chef worked on the titanic, our food goes down great." Apparently this was a response to Debbie's Irish Pub, which boasted of Debbie's ex-husband's experience on the Queen Elizabeth II.

The bar had just been reopened after some renovations, and so the girl who usually helped with the cocktails and food wasn't around, and the decorations weren't up yet. Still, the laid-back atmosphere was very welcoming, and Joe made us feel at home with a robust supply of beer, wine and simple mixers.

That night, Bolton was playing Blackburn at home, and Bolton won, 2-1, for the first time since 2000. Joe served up butterscotch-vodka shots all round, on the house.

Midnight brought an experience that could not be captured on photographs, images we will never see; a storm we will never forget.

We'd set up deck-chairs on the beach and wanted to do some stargazing. But the clouds rolled in and without notice the heaviest storm since our arrival was upon us. The girls managed to get back to the chalets in time, but George and I had to hide under the meagre cover of my poncho for nearly 40 minutes.

When the worst was over, we ran for it during a drizzly respite, and found ourselves in drier conditions by 2.00 a.m.

It has, I think, been said that the darkest night heralds the brightest day. And the next morning's sun was nothing short of glorious; something for which we (or at least, I) had been waiting four consecutive mornings since our arrival in Arau.

I finally got the shot of the surfboards the way I'd imagined them, along with the pro-environment message ('Hargai Alam Sekitar' means 'Value the Environment').

And then there was the hippie VW van with the word 'Babylon' emblazoned across its side. This was parked at the entrance of the pathway leading to the Babylon Bar.

One of the best spots Lonely Planet did not cover was the Melati Café which serves, among other items in an extensive menu, delightful breakfast sets. I fell in love with their eggs benedict the first morning, and we had breakfast here on Monday, too.

It's on Pantai Cenang, about a third of the way from Grand Beach to The Zon, and is open throughout most of the day. This includes late-night supper, when most other restaurants are already closed.

Construction site, Pantai Cenang.

(I think I really like photographing subjects like this.)

Back in Arau, we decided to have a slow afternoon/evening visiting the paddy fields in Simpang Empat, in the southwestern part of the state. This was the only area George and I did not cover during our two-hour whirlwind tour on Friday.

On our way out of Arau, I noticed this billboard. I find it somewhat amusing (and maybe in some ways telling) that while five of our Prime Ministers are looking at the viewer, the Tunku is looking somewhere else.

And in that gaze of his I seem to sense a visionary spark, a certain 'looking ahead'. After all these years, perhaps it would do the country good if we could somehow recapture a bit of the Tunku's zeal and spirit.

Street scene near Kampung Sungai Baharu, near the coast, west of Simpang Empat.

Fishing boats along the river at Kampung Sungai Baharu.

Cat on the docks, with nets and Perlis-coloured fishing boats in the background.

We noticed that the people of Perlis seem to take their colours very seriously; almost everything is blue and yellow!

View of paddy fields and sugar cane plantations near Simpang Empat. The sun was virtually perfect, and the skies an impeccable pastel-blue, that evening.

Detail, sugar cane plantation.

A trough of water runs through the paddy field.

The mosque near the Arau train station. Another example of Perlis colours worn with pride.

View of the Arau KTM station at sunset, from the nearby pedestrian/bike bridge.

Mr Alagasan looks down at the railway tracks from the bridge.

Motorcyclists and pedestrians use it to cross the tracks. While I was taking photos of the railway tracks from the bridge, a Malay man stopped by on his bike and asked if I were from the media or something. He said that he wanted to air a complaint, a protest against the proposed demolition of the bridge because it was important to the local community.

A family prepares to board the train.

Sleeping berths for the journey home. Jia Hui would get off at Ipoh, while Adelene, George and I were bound for K.L. We would all finish, fittingly, where we began.

* * *

Film used (for pictures above):

Kodak Ektar 100 for the first day in Arau, the Telaga Tujuh hike, and the last day in Arau.

Fujichrome Velvia 50 for Kuala Perlis and the first day in Langkawi.

Kodak Portra 160VC for the second evening and last morning in Langkawi.

Kodak Tri-X 400 for the black-and-white shots.

(A polarising filter was used for the Monday evening paddy field, mosque and train station shots.)

What I love about film is that so little post-shoot editing is required. The caveat is that one must get everything right pre-shoot, which is the hard part. Nevertheless for the shots that I did get right, pre-blogging workflow was a breeze. In contrast, even great digital photos need a good deal of lighting, contrast and, sometimes, colour correction.

With film, you just shoot, develop, scan from negative, and enjoy.

None of the pictures above were corrected for colour, except the last shot (in the train coach). You choose a certain film stock because of the colour it gives you; and there is a good variety to choose from.

* * *

I shocked myself the other day when I realised I'd shot seven rolls of film during the LAB Tour last year. This comes after a one-roll weekend each at The Dusun and in Singapore. When I told Fit this, she said it was because LAB was specifically a photo trip, while the others weren't. There's some truth in that, but still, SEVEN!

Anyway, as I was putting together the pictures for the post, I had a rather hard time deciding which to include, and which to omit. I had the 200+ photos whittled down to a lean 40; any less and it would be difficult to do the trip justice. In the end, I decided to go with photographs that did not just show what we did on the trip, but which also mirrored technical photographic breakthroughs; for instance, things like succeeding in hand-holding a long exposure.

I'd like to think that a photographer does not merely grow in making nicer and nicer pictures, but also in pushing the boundaries of the medium.

We appreciate Ansel Adams for his breathtaking pictures of the American wilderness, but his greatest legacy is perhaps his mastery of all aspects of the craft -- from the camera, to the negative, to the print -- demonstrated in his ability to capture incredible tonal and dynamic range with the arguably primitive hardware and materials of his day.

The Fruit of Your Labour

2011-04-04T12:03:00.000+08:00

I wrote this for Datin Maimun's farewell last year. After 20-odd years at the V.I., she finally retired last year. It has been a fruitful two decades, I daresay.

I didn't publish it here earlier because it always felt incomplete. But when time passes, poems lose their urgency and, for lack of a better word, solidify. As lime water changes into stalactites and stalagmites, so are poems glimpses of spontaneity frozen in time.

* * *

The Fruit of Your Labour

The fruit of your labour
Lies in the vessels you have helped shape
Not merely in what you have filled these vessels with,
But how you taught them to be filled.
The chipping and the knocking, the scraping and the firing;
The times we resisted, the times you persisted.

The roots of your labour
Anchored in 23 years between these walls
On fertile ground you found us, and we found you.
And this is God’s favour,
That after all that has come and gone
When the sands of time and waves of the world
Have chiselled away and eroded the things we do and say,
When our castles are shown to be but castles in the air
(These fortresses are no longer there.)

You will not be remembered for board or for beam,
If you fought alone or in a team,
If you were as you are, or much more than you seemed.
In all these men will differ, and argue to their hearts discontent.
But what remains—the kernel of your intent
To see boys grow, to know the heart of the gentleman
Endures.

The storm may sink the vessel
And the sun bring it to float,
No longer to sail the seas;
But the crew of men it carried—
The sailors and rookies with which it tarried in darkest night
Continue to ply the ends of the earth,
Carrying your light and all
Your life here had been worth:
Each kind gesture,
The debates in patience and courage,
Never to back down;
Each year, each new wrinkle on the face
Each new burst of faith to run this race.

So, teacher,
Fare not well,
But fare well above and beyond the thoroughfare,
Beyond what is expected of one at the end of life at school.

You know us well, you know we live to break the rules;
So you, too, teacher, break this rule—
That having been wound to the end of the spool
Carry on with purpose and zeal
Till the paths of life reveal
The fruit of your labour borne in us and you.

Curtain Falls on The Majestic Station Hotel

2011-03-14T12:47:00.000+08:00

So I heard from Yen sometime last week that the Majestic Station Hotel in Ipoh would be closing down by the end of the month or so. It was designed by A.B. Hubback, the same person behind the Old Railway Station in KL. While both stations have been turned into hubs for the new Electric Train Service (ETS), the station hotels have both shared a similar dismal fate.

Read the report here. And more on the hotel at its website here.

Last year some of the PKVians visited Ipoh and stayed from 6-8 September at the Majestic. It was quite an awesome experience; the connection with the past and all.

Jia Hui waiting for the Electric Train at the Old Railway Station, KL. We caught the first train at 6.22 a.m.

Sleepy passengers Divya and Ruth in the Electric Train. The serene rural landscapes are punctuated by factories and industrial landmarks.

Ipoh Station. Grander than I last remembered it from the visit in early 2008.

The spacious dressing area (there's a word for this but I can't seem to remember it) in the Majestic's rooms.

Adele, Jia Hui, Divya, Adelene, Suit Lin in the room, while Joy peeks out of the dressing area.

Girls again; sidelit shot.

Ruth sitting on one of the lounge chairs along the long, tiled, open-air corridor.

Photographing the photographers, outside a room. Yen said that the floor reminded her of Alice in Wonderland.

The doors open out into the corridor, much like how kampung and colonial houses open into a verandah. These were the days before the cramped, dark corridors of many hotels today.

One of the highlights of our stay was the old-fashioned lift. This was nearly exactly like the lift leading to Lionel Logue's office in The King's Speech.

The main stairwell runs around the lift well, somewhat like a 'backbone' in the layout of the hotel.

Adrian, Jia Hui, Titus and me taking a ride in the lift. Both doors had to be closed before the lift could be operated.

Adrian and the access to the attic/lift control chamber.

On our last day, while waiting for the train the Penang (for the second part of the trip, coming soon!), George and I climbed into the lift control chamber.

Gears, circuit boards, odds and ends... and a fire extinguisher! (Got Yen the shot she'd assigned me.)

Flags flying majestically atop the Majestic.

* * *

This post is for the group of PKV Ipoh II; Jia Hui, Suit Lin, Adelene, Titus, Yen, Ruth Choy, Emily Chow, Mun Siong, Adele, Adrian, Joy and Divya. It was one memorable trip!

Photographs shot on Kodak Portra 160VC, Kodak Tri-X 400 and Fujichrome Astia 100.

Reflections on Teaching

2011-03-02T07:41:00.000+08:00

If you cannot ignite a fire of passion as to set a forest ablaze, at least let your flickering flame light the way in the darkness.

In teaching I attempt to apply the methods and assume the attitudes of the teachers who made the biggest difference while I was a student -- if I can be said to have turned out well, then surely they must have done something right.

My first goal/task as a teacher is to develop an interest in the subject I am teaching. This is the steepest part of the learning curve. Once the interest is there, no challenge is insurmountable and even the most fiendish puzzles stir in the pupil a sense of thrill and delight.

(In the car on the way back from PhotoMedia, 21/2.)

The photographer and the place

2011-02-19T10:41:00.000+08:00

It's important to recognise those times when it isn't worth your while taking a picture at all. That is rarely the location's fault and is usually down to the photographer.

You might go somewhere and not make any photographs, but return a few months later and see images everywhere. The location hasn't changed, but the photographer has.

-- Travel Photography Masterclass, Ailsa McWhinnie (ed.)

Sivin's Last Bow

2011-02-14T00:04:00.000+08:00

I don't think this is Sivin's last bow in the Sherlock Holmes's last bow was his last recorded adventure. But it is nevertheless a very significant hiatus after ten years of momentum-gaining ministry inside and out of BLC.

But first... we're back at The Father's House, 23 Jalan Abdullah, Bangsar!

Celebrating the Eucharist with Dr Phil, 5 December 2010; first Sunday back at the renovated premises.

The Anderbecks on the front façade.

* * *

Christmas 2010 was Sivin's last official outing as the pastor of BLC, and he went out with all the gestures and nuances that have come to define him thus far.

Sheryl and Leigh led worship.

The crosses in the walls were maintained, now occupying a more prominent position with portions of the walls removed.

Rama, the 'voice of God', reading Scripture. He was chief of the building committee.

Sivin used to say that "Jesus sat while he taught", and so he felt entitled to do the same. To date, he's the only 'sitting pastor' I have ever met.

Reciting the Apostles' Creed at the children's baptism.

Sivin baptising Joash... or is that Jaden? Even Daddy Larry got mixed up that morning! ;-)

Delivering his final 'official' benediction at the customary service-ending BLC circle.

Sivin, Rama, Judith, Wolfgang... and a now-liberated Aung San Suu Kyi.

Christmas we celebrated with those whose names are neither known nor recognised by the powers that be, but who are loved beyond words can describe by the Power that is, was, and evermore shall be. The Father sent the Son, and so the Son sent us.

* * *

Sivin may have left (for a couple of months anyway), but he remains connected in more ways than one.

Yu Chiet watching over the new media system which allows live video telecast of services; NOT an excuse for members to 'spectate' from the comfort of home!

At least Sivin can watch us, if he so wishes, at 3.00 a.m. in Kristiansand, Norway.

The family who will soon join him: May Chin, Gareth, Elysia, Ewan... and Number Four!

* * *

(Colour pictures shot on Kodak Portra 400VC. Black-and-whites on Kodak Tri-X 400. 50mm lens.)

Back to Black-and-White

2011-02-09T14:20:00.000+08:00

When I saw this photo on Ken Rockwell's site, and when I read on the first page that he'd used a Leica M9 (digital) rangefinder for the Route 66 trip, editing in Apple Aperture 3, I thought, "Wow, digital is getting really good!"

I knew you could transform digital files into film lookalikes in Photoshop and Aperture, but this came a little too close for comfort. And then, as I read through the article, I realised it was actually film all along; Ken used the M9 for the colour pictures, but an M3 loaded with Agfa APX 100 for the black-and-whites.

So there we have it: when it comes to silver halide contrast and texture, there's still nothing like the real thing!

Read the full piece here.

Collected Thoughts on Photography

2011-02-09T10:04:00.000+08:00

Some collected thoughts on photography, since December last year.

Nikon P7000 vs Canon EOS 60D

In the December 2010 issue of National Geographic, Nikon ran an advertisement for its flagship compact camera, the semi-pro P7000:

Some four pages away, Canon's featured its semi-pro DSLR:

The comparison could not be more disproportionate. But then perhaps Nikon has the better understanding of the National Geographic spirit in this one. After all, which camera is likely to enable the photographer to travel further and wider?

Back in the heyday of Cartier-Bresson and company, the 35mm rangefinder was the definitive tool-of-the-trade. It's not hard to understand why: the lightweight rangefinders were a lot less intrusive than large-format press cameras.

Today, there are no compact cameras with equivalent performance to DSLRs in terms of speed and overall handling, and there are no affordable digital rangefinders (the Leica M9 costs a bomb). I have toyed around with the P7000, and it seems that a D3100 (Nikon's smallest DSLR to date) is a much better bet. I have yet to try out the Olympus PEN system, but that might be the best compromise for performance of DSLR-standards in a compact.

Still, that ad from Nikon was a good reminder of what photography is all about: getting out there and being in the right place, at the right time. Galen Rowell would've loved the P7000 I think.

* * *

Further Thoughts on Film

I have time and again shared the reasons behind my preference for film. Here I would just like to dwell on three ideas: legibility, simplicity and character.

Ken Rockwell said it, and I cannot help but agree: with film you don't need any software to read the photograph. Don't get me wrong: I love working with my RAW files when utmost quality is needed, but even RAW files get illegible sometimes. I couldn't read Doulos's D60 RAW files on my first-edition Capture NX software. Programmes like Photoshop need to be updated from time to time in order to be compatible with the latest RAW firmware, etc.

In contrast, there is no risk of film shot today being illegible decades from now, as long as there is light and humans have eyes.

What, then, of chemicals? Unlike proprietary algorithms employed in RAW, chemical development methods like E-6, C-41 and silver halide processing, are available to anyone and everyone. While some of these chemicals are no longer manufactured en masse, the workings behind them will be readily apparent to anyone trained in the chemical sciences.

On simplicity, I read this article on Photojojo's 'Ultra Wide and Slim' camera page (link here):

Remember when all it took was a roll of film and a trip to 1 hour photo?

Now that we've gone digital, we spend hours in Photoshop, pore over 300 page camera manuals, and spend our life's savings on photo gadgets we don't even know how to use. We kind of love it, most of time.

But sometimes we wonder, what happened to simplicity?

I looked the camera up because Nasha's brother had given her one for Christmas, which means she now has two 'old school' film cameras, the Recesky 'twin lens' and now this. Can't wait to go out shooting with her, really.

And finally, character.

I think the reason people shoot film, is because of the particular character of different types of films. You are not just a 'film' photographer. You are a Velvia, or a Kodachrome, or a Tri-X photographer. You use film because of the character and look imparted by these stocks.

The masses have moved to digital because, in many ways, digital does a better job of reproducing colours accurately and more effortlessly than consumer films (the sort you get in supermarkets and in the everyday photo shops).

But the art and landscape photographers, who care less for accuracy than for mood, like how film exaggerates and gives its own spin on colours and tones. You can probably design an algorithm to replicate these stocks in Photoshop; or you could do the easy thing and go out there and shoot. You could convert to black-and-white, add grain and play around with contrast levels, but it just wouldn't be the same as working on a roll of Tri-X in the darkroom.

* * *

On Attitudes in Photography

Meet Timothy Wooi, photographer and social worker from Kedah. We encountered him at the restaurant in Kuala Perlis during the LAB Tour (more on that to come), and he gave us a lecture on photography against the setting sun.

One of the things I struggle with is talking to strangers. Being naturally an introvert, I don't mingle very easily. On this occasion, as with Alex Powers, it was the other person who made the first move.

I have come to learn that it pays to make friends, to talk to the people you meet; they are more likely to pose for you and share what they know about the place you're visiting, especially if you're foreign to it. Of course there is a risk when making contact with strangers, but given a healthy dose of discretion and wisdom, an open attitude towards the locals in a strange land can prove more beneficial than not.

* * *

On Lighting and Composition

In this Outdoor Photographer article, Adam Barker writes;

If we could bottle up the light that blesses most of our five-star imagery, we could sell it for billions of dollars a bottle—that’s how good the light is that we crave most.

Where do we find this light? We find it in the early and late hours. We find it when most other sane individuals are warm in their beds or swishing their glass of evening wine. You must be committed to getting up early and staying out late.

[...]

I believe that composition is the rawest demonstration of a photographer’s ability to create. Subject matter is most often already existent. Light can be happened upon. Composition, however, is entirely dependent upon the artist’s intrinsic ideal. It’s the outward arrangement of an inward vision.

I recall that many of my best photographs were made early in the morning and late into the evening. But more so, they were made when it was considered inconvenient to do so; when lunch or dinner was more tempting, or when the rain was too intimidating.

I recall also, something Eric Peris said when we visited him about a year ago, about composition. He would look at something, and if the composition wasn't working for him he would say it was because he didn't understand the elements in that prospective photograph, and he would walk away and maybe come back to it later. Perhaps he would then understand the elements and be better able to produce a satisfactory composition.

There is something in this more contemplative approach to photography that is missing in today's 'shoot first, think later' (or don't think at all) attitude. I suppose that is why landscape photographers still haul their large-format gear and bulky tripods into impossible terrain: it makes them take only the really great pictures, as it would not be worth the effort to set up for a mere snapshot.

* * *

Where To, From Here?

And now this is the part that matters most. Seven years of photography, four-and-a-half of those with the DSLR, and three of them with the addition of film; the big question is, where to from here?

I find it hard to let go of my lenses.

I have some eight lenses or so, and it might seem an intimidating amount (by today's standards), but most of these lenses were purchased cheap off the second-hand market. The total worth of all my lenses would barely buy you a pro lens today.

But there is a story attached to each (which I may explore in coming posts), and also because most of them don't have much of a resale value, I don't intend to let them go just yet.

Over the last several years, three things have remained consistent: my love for teaching and writing, and my visual perspective of the world via painting and photography.

I like how Eric (Chan) put it in one of his last messages to me, before closing shop; "Photography is poison but also mystery."

The IGEM win last year was one of the sweetest experiences of my photographic career so far, and failing to land the Magnum scholarship one of the bitterest. Well, who am I to complain? I'm really not quite up to Magnum's standards, I suppose. But all this just goes to show how much I need to work to improve my craft and skills.

And the big question is, how?

I was with you in weakness, in fear, and in much trembling. And my speech and my preaching were not with persuasive words of human wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power.

-- 1 Corinthians 2:3-4 (NKJV)

How will the Spirit use my passion, and whatever miniscule talent I have, to achieve the great inexorable ends that are beyond the power of mere mortals to frustrate?

One of these days I will share the results of a certain photo hunt Yen put me on last year. Doing the exercise made me realise certain things about the way I shoot and see the world.

* * *

Ending Quote

I've always loved this John Sexton quote;

"It’s so bizarre to me that I can show you a picture that’s black-and-white and you somehow think it represents reality. When’s the last time you opened a window and it was black and white outdoors?"

Photography was never about reality; it was about communicating something about the way we see the world around us.

BF Classmates in Kuala Selangor and Sekinchan

2011-02-04T11:35:00.000+08:00

Last Saturday some of the BF Classmates made a trip to Kuala Selangor and Sekinchan, the former to visit Bukit Malawati and the latter for seafood and a visit to the fishing villages.

Soo, Len and Li Ling. Summit of Bukit Malawati.

Mel and her D3000. (And an old friend of mine; the 55-200mm!)

Silvered Langurs (a.k.a. Silvered Leaf Monkeys) in a tree.

The Silvered Langur, Trachypithecus cristatus is a common monkey in the mangrove and riverine forests of Kuala Selangor.

In troops it resembles the Long-tailed Macaque (Macaca fascicularis) but it is nowhere near as aggressive.

We had a good time watching the monkeys, many of which were very photogenic; they must be used to all this tourist traffic.

It is said that the tram's 'nose cone' was designed by an uncle of Wai Loon's, who turned a wok, or kuali, over and attached it to the front of the tram.

The lighthouse on Bukit Malawati.

Silvered Langur and young, the fur of which is orange.

Group photo near the amphitheatre at Bukit Malawati.

Group photo, vertical.

Had some fun with the convex mirror. Cheapest way to get the fisheye effect!

A fishing boat pulls up along the river behind Loong Hua restaurant in Sekinchan.

Fishing boats, Sekinchan.

Fishing boat lashed by the wind and rain.

Fishermen mending their nets.

Empty pails, baskets and fishing containers.

In order to possess what you do not possess
You must go by the way of dispossession.

~ T.S. Eliot, 'East Coker'

For how can you be filled if you do not first empty yourself?

A fresh catch of fish and eels.

Mel watches as Phon sets up the camera for the group shot.

Motorcycle in one of the fishing warehouses overlooking the river.

An old man, probably a fisherman in his youth, who kindly obliged when I asked to take his picture.

They were serving free Old Town White Coffee (Hazelnut and Classic flavours) at a Petronas station on our way back.

The hot drink was perfect for a cold and rainy afternoon.

Two Poems from Dead Poets Society

2011-02-03T12:13:00.000+08:00

I thought it worth remembering these.

* * *

O Me! O Life!

By Walt Whitman (1819–1892), from Leaves of Grass, 1900.

O ME! O life!... of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle ever renew’d;
Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer.

That you are here—that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.

* * *

To the Virgins, to make much of Time

Robert Herrick, 1591–1674

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he 's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he 's to setting.

That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry:
For having lost but once your prime,
You may for ever tarry.

* * *

(Thanks Johanna, for putting the rosebuds quote on your MSN. I was inspired thus to look it up.)

To Kodachrome

2011-02-03T11:51:00.001+08:00

One well-known film I will never get to shoot is Kodachrome. It was still in production when I started venturing into film back in 2008.

If I had taken some initiative I might have purchased a few rolls off the net, shot them and mailed them all the way to the States to have them processed and mailed back to me. I would've thought nothing of the cost, because it would've been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to speak the same language as some of the greatest photographers in history, including one whom I very much admire, Steve McCurry.

But I did not have that sort of initiative then. Now things are different, and Eric's shutting down shop has spurred me to consider buying what I used to buy off him, off the net. One of these products is Tri-X, which he used to sell at RM11; B&H will mail it to me in bulk at the price of about RM15 a roll, which is still cheaper than most B&W films here. And besides, I really love Tri-X.

Even products like second-hand cameras can be purchased off the net cheaper than what we may find in shops here; the legendary Nikon N90s is available at the moment for no more than USD150 (including shipping to Malaysia) on B&H.

Sometime last year, I came across this 2008 USA Today article by Ben Dobbin, and I thought I'd like to share an excerpt:

Yet aficionados like [Magnum photographer Alex] Webb remain bewitched by Kodachrome's "vibrant but not oversaturated colors."

"It has an emotional punchiness that really always seemed right for me," especially in tropical urban locales he gravitates to in the Caribbean and in "mucky light" near dawn or dusk. Digital boasts "remarkable clarity," he says, but "it's almost too clear and doesn't seem to have depth and texture the way film does."

Webb was "incredibly distressed" when Kodachrome 200, his all-time favorite, bit the dust in November 2006. He stockpiled 600 rolls and is using up the last 150 to complete a photography book on Cuba this fall.

"It seems kind of appropriate because Cuba is a world of the '50s on some level," Webb says. "It has existed in a bubble outside the world of globalization now for 50 years, and Kodachrome goes hand-in-hand."

Steve McCurry paid tribute to Kodachrome in this article here.

And speaking of Cuba, McCurry followed up the Kodachrome tribute with a post on Havana, featuring pictures mostly, if not entirely, shot on Kodachrome.

Of Stateless Capitals

2011-02-01T21:43:00.001+08:00

So today is Federal Territories Day in Malaysia. Usually the first thing that comes to mind when one thinks of Wilayah Persekutuan is Kuala Lumpur. But there's also Labuan and Putrajaya.

As I was thinking about it yesterday, I realise I for one don't make a big fuss of this 'celebration', in spite of being a K.L. boy through and through. While driving to school this morning I considered my experience in Washington, D.C., last year and it occurred to me that Washington is very much like Kuala Lumpur in that both capitals are situated, not in states, but in specially appointed territories.

D.C. felt very much like K.L., from the sweltering summer heat and humidity (in contrast to Honolulu's cool, dry and sunny climate) to the gritty 'city' feel. The biggest difference between the two capitals appeared to me not to be the people, the culture, or even the currency, but the town planning. The streets and buildings in D.C. are arranged in a gridlike fashion, while K.L. landscape has a rather unruly, sprawling feel.

Today I shall consider some of the experiences I had in D.C. that reminded me of home, and this shall suffice as a short reflection on Federal Territories Day this year.

We were fortunate enough to be able to catch a 'street protest' while in D.C. It was our last day there, and the gathering was organised by the Hands Across the Sand movement to protest our excessive reliance on petroleum.

But while it was an interesting experience, in front of the White House no less, it didn't come close to matching the power of our local street protests in recent years. Whether either government was listening or not, I don't know. But the K.L. protests felt somewhat more focused, and there was a fervency amongst the protesters that clearly permeated the air.

Some of the churches in D.C. are really magnificent, made of brick that is that the brick we know today, brick from whichever age in the past that makes it look like the brick of Arthurian legend. There was an impressive church near the Hotel Palomar where we were based, but for some reason I don't think I photographed it.

In K.L., we have magnificent churches too. But we have something D.C. does not: equally, if not more so, magnificent mosques, like Masjid India along (where else?) Jalan Masjid India.

A lot of these old places of worship were built during colonial times, and their architecture reflect that of the colonial powers' own countries, as well as their colonies the world over. And so we see such elements as Indian Mughal motifs as well as traditional Western European designs, sometimes alone and sometimes in fusion, in structures like Masjid Jamek and St Mary's Cathedral.

I sometimes wonder what would happen, architecturally, if an Asian superpower were to colonise a European nation.

And then there was the food. Having been denied of proper Malaysian food for four weeks, we decided to give the Lonely Planet-recommended Malaysia Kopitiam a try. It turned out to be one of the best gastronomic decisions while we were in the States. Run by Larry and Penny, an Ipoh couple, the food is so good I had to concede that some of their dishes are 'even better than the real thing'.

But then the 'real thing' often lies as much in the experience as in the taste itself. For what hot dog vendor can match the incomparable Ramly Burger Man, the hope of hungry schoolchildren? I still think there are few experiences quite as surreal as Ramly burgers and beer!

Sometimes you don't discover your own city until you bring a visitor around. So it was that while we were prowling Brickfields with SooT's friend Paola at the end of last year, that we discovered this tau fu fah seller who used metal bowls and spoons, harmonising with the Indian community in the area.

I love tau fu fah. I never thought it would ever happen, but many mornings in my very final semester were spent at the SS2 market, hoping for crabs but always assured of a bowl of steaming hot bean curd. It was at that time so much of a staple that in some ways it became a ritual of sorts.

Finally there are the streets. I think the streets of a city really are its soul; from the feel of the pavement beneath your shoes or slippers, to the way buildings grow up from the sidewalk as if they were trees taking root by a river, from the chatter of passers-by, to the words on posters and billboards, from the buskers to whom the street is an endless stage, to the motorists who staunchly believe that a street can never be too wide.

The corner of Queen's and Kapiolani. Waialae Avenue. The history of a city, of a state, of a country weaved into the names of its streets.

M Street, P Street. Corner of N and 3rd. So well-organised, so geometrical and mathematical; an apt reflection of the 'motherboard of the motherland'.

And then there are the streets named after significant buildings on those streets. Jalan Masjid Jamek, Jalan Gereja.

'In the sidestreets and the alleyway', to use a U2 quote, the heart of the city beats on and on, as it did in the beginning before it became a city, as it will to the ends of time long after it ceases to be.

* * *

All black-and-whites shot on Tri-X 400.
K.L. protest shot on expired Fuji X-Tra 400 courtesy of Alissa.
Ramly burger and tau fu fah shot on digital.
Masjid Jamek alleyway shot on Fujichrome Astia 100.

January the Second

2011-01-16T16:10:00.000+08:00

It occurred to me that one of the virtues of obeying one's parents is that one might learn to live with his/her own will suppressed.

For if one cannot bear the occasionally illogical restrictions and demands laid by his/her parents, how would one learn obedience to an even greater Father whose will may often seem not only unreasonable, but downright preposterous?

Buechner and Moses

2011-01-12T09:07:00.000+08:00

[There is a] longing for truth that I think is a deep part of all of us even at our most jaded. [...] Even at our most believing, I think, we have our serious reservations just as even at our most unbelieving we tend to cast a wistful glance over our shoulders.

-- Frederick Buechner, from the preface to 'A Room Called Remember: Uncollected Pieces'

And these words which I command you this day shall be upon your heart; and you shall teach them diligently to your children, and you shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise.

-- Deuteronomy 6:7 (as quoted in Buechner, ibid.)