d'NA Reunion 2011 at Shern Ren's

A very long overdue post.

So it was the weekend of Yen's birthday, and we had a reunion—the first home reunion since 2006, I think—in Shern Ren's house.

The playground with the dinosaur.

Our 'facilitator', Shern Ren.

We devised a rather fiendish treasure hunt of sorts for Yen.

It ended with her having to make a phone call.

And the mother of all surprises...

The man himself!

Clockwise from me: Teeming, SooT, Chien Aun, Joan, Mich, Tien, Alissa, Yen, Titus, Jon and Shern Ren.

My, we're really growing older together!

You could say it was a rather pillow-y affair. And some of us gravitated towards the pillows more than others:

This being a bunch of nerds, there were books too!

Tien, Ming and Alissa...

... with books!

Next morning, we went to Bangsar Lutheran, in the spirit of old times.

And true to d'NA custom, we brought drinks into the service!

Capping off the weekend with lunch at Nirwana in Bangsar.

Adventures of a Tiny Teddy

Hope to update the blog in the next few days.

Meanwhile, I saw something so arresting I just had to put it up here. This is what life should really be about:

http://lewiscollard.com/gallery/the-adventures-of-a-tiny-teddy/

Gordon Lewis's Shutterfinger

Stumbled upon a cool photography blog while searching for Portra 160 reviews: Gordon Lewis's Shutterfinger.


What I appreciate most about it is what he says in this post:

The fact is that photography for me is often a struggle, the most constant of which is finding the time to practice it. I'm paid to write, you see, not to take pictures. During my "free" time I'm expected to be a good husband and father, not wandering the streets of Philadelphia taking pictures of perfect strangers for no reason other than my own personal gratification.

It speaks, I think, to all of us who are 'normal' people, living normal lives with jobs and families to take care of, and not professional photographers who live, eat and breathe photographs.

I love how he ends the post:

Nothing ever goes exactly as you had hoped or planned [...] you're going to miss shots. On the other hand, there will be times when the gods are smiling down on you, the fates align in your favor, and you capture a once-in-a-lifetime shot you would never have imagined and could never have planned. That's the fun of it all, you see. And that's why I keep at. Because one of these days I'll get it right.

One of these days I'll get it right!


In another post here, he talks about the importance of paying attention.

He says (and I quote):

1. Study the masters, especially those whose work interests you most. Let them open your eyes to the possibilities for location, lighting, color, tonality, framing, timing, and printing. If someone's work bothers you, don't dismiss it too quickly. As yourself why it bothers you. You may discover that the artist wanted you to be uncomfortable—and was successful.

2. Learn to meditate, to play a musical instrument, to play chess, or to play a sport. Any practice that requires you to focus your mind and use it differently than you do in everyday life triggers a new awareness and a sense of new possibilities. You become aware of how much your everyday awareness (or lack of it) is a distraction and illusion in and of itself.

3. Set a creative goal and standard of quality, then reach or exceed them. Unless you have some idea of where you're going and what you're trying to achieve then you're basically just wandering in the wilderness hoping to find a hot meal and a dry place to sleep.

Back to the Futures

Environmental Engineering class at Ulu Gombak, May 2010.

Hey Lance,

Picking up where we left off.

You'll probably read this in Singapore; well, here's hoping you're in a comfortable place as it's gonna be quite a lengthy email ahead, to say the least! Also, I haven't really sifted through or processed all these thoughts, so there might be a bit of a raw edge to them—but I figured I'd retain that, to keep the whole 'conversational' feel intact.

* * *

First off, about the title/header of this email. I just couldn't resist. But yes, back to the futures indeed. Our conversation got me thinking about the postcards I did for the workshop, in context of the discussion with Dr Zeeda. Singaporean kids know what they're supposed to do, and life is pretty much already mapped out for them. But then, do they know why they do what they do? Do they know what they're living for?

In some ways I hope the postcards helped them think about such questions—or maybe some day in the future if/when they do think of these questions, they might have some vague recollection of the postcards exercise. But it occurred to me that, in order to move forward sustainably, context cannot be overlooked or belittled. An awareness of history must exist (the 'Merge' postcard), an awareness of what's around in the present day (the 'iSingapore—beyond reality' postcard), and the ability to see/predict where we're headed (the 'Marina Ark' postcard). And I can assure you that none of these are taught in our schools and universities: nowhere in the formal education background of the students going to SUSI (from Malaysia, at least) are these issues brought up or discussed.

For this reason, we have a lot of bright minds and potential movers/changers/leaders who end up applying themselves only to the mechanics of things—driving the car without knowing where we're headed.

* * *

Some attempt at providing an environmental/biodiversity context has been supplied by the university. The environmental engineering class that comprises Nasha, Sun, Wei Qian, Sheng and Grace went on a week-long jungle camp shortly before SUSI 2010. A PhD student/friend from my department was one of the instructors at the camp and I tagged along to take pictures. And one morning while they were out birdwatching, I took one of the most memorable photos of my student-photographer career [top of this post].

Alright, whether or not the picture is awesome, that's not important. What matters is that, in that picture, those five people were there: Nasha, Sun, Wei Qian, Sheng and Grace. And there they were, immersed for a week in the forest, in the true and living natural heritage of our country. (If you've time, you could show the picture to them; I'm sure it'd bring back memories!)

I sense that most students never get that sort of immersion even within campus. They attend classes, sit exams, get their grades and their degree, maybe get a girlfriend or boyfriend—and off they go. The beauty of the campus, the potential to bring about change on campus, the opportunities to make a difference: all of these are glossed over. And I believe this really does happen because of what so many people tell me at their graduation—that they wish they'd had more time, that they wish they could've seen more of the campus, or done more while they were here. But such reflections are short lived, because the working world swallows them up soon after, and there's no time then to stop and think.

And in the midst of all this, sure, many students get involved in environmental 'projects' and other forms of volunteer activities. But then it's very touch-and-go, very surface-limited engagement: enough for an entry in the CV (e.g., "Ben volunteered at a three-day environmental festival"—yay) but not much use for anything long-term.

* * *

I revisited a blog post I wrote about some of my last days in residential college, here. And I found that I ended the post with a photograph of an inscription on a wall in my room, here, and below:

Roughly translated, the words read, "There is no meaning in life if an acquaintance does not leave memories/evoke love in the heart of man; cherish every encounter." These words greeted me when I first entered the room in 2007, lived with me throughout my stay in college, and saw me out when I graduated in 2010. They continue to inspire and influence me.

* * *

Then there was the work on the theatre (the ET project). Here's our official project website, and here's the newspaper clipping.

It is arguably the achievement of which I'm most proud in all my student life. Not just because of the triumphant portfolio of photographs we managed to compile by the end, but more so because of what the university administration had to say about our team. They were most inspired by the fact that this was entirely a student-mooted, student-led and student-executed project—we weren't told to do any of this, and none of it contributed to our grades or any positions of influence within clubs and societies. We gave what we had for the fun of it, for the love of it. And the university as a whole had something to benefit from it, too.

Although I was commissioned to write the UM Cares Sustainability Handbook in late 2010, I really couldn't get things off the ground until we were done with the ET project in mid-2011. The reason for this is that, at time of commission, the handbook was envisioned to be a checklist of "Dos and Don'ts"—something quite technical.

I couldn't bring myself to produce a book that was all technical knowledge, but offered no perspectives as to why we should live in such a way; a book of rules with no motivation to follow them; a book about sustainability with no mention of the campus environment it purportedly calls us to sustain. But after the ET project, things started to make a bit of sense to me; I finally saw how, over the years, I had been moved and motivated by the 'heritage' dimension of living on campus—our environmental and cultural heritage. This then provided me with a compelling context from which to present the observations you now find in the completed handbook.

* * *

Coming back to SUSI, I've always asked myself, since 'graduating' from SUSI and university, what it all meant to me. What did I learn from all of it—both SUSI and my experiences on campus—and in what way can I best contribute to the environmental movement?

Christina called me a 'poet-scientist', and I think there is some truth to that. I think, with the hindsight of two years, that I'll very likely always be on the spiritual/emotional side of the environmental movement.

I appreciated the lessons learnt on the Hokule'a, but most of all the experience with Julia Neal in Ka'u, and also my solo visit to the Dumbarton Oaks estate in Washington, D.C. When you consider these in light of my work on the ET (the theatre), you'll see one strong thread that binds them: they're all about redeeming old buildings and land, and making something good and useful of them.

That's why I was so intrigued by the video, The Greenest Building (link here)—because I could identify personally with it on some level. I don't know much about engineering and the technical aspects behind LEED-certified buildings or all the nitty-gritty of materials science, but I do know something about taking an old shell of a building and breathing new life into it. I do know that doing that sort of thing helps preserve a sense of history and appreciation for the land on which the building was built.

And I do know it brings about a deeper sense of ownership and responsibility, i.e., that we inherit the land and space in which we live, and that we don't just break down and bury the past, as if every generation is a clean slate.

(Some of this appeared in that poem I wrote for the EWC Impulse, 'To Salvage a Ravaged Land', in the line, "Hermits moving in and out of old messes.")


It seems, two years down the road, I am finally able to make sense of all the input, and finally get a more refined idea of what my 'life action plan' will be about. I'm glad to say that the handbook and biodiversity map are done (hence completing part of the action plan I set out on at SUSI), but there's a long way to go to developing a sustainable database of campus biodiversity—it could take between 5-10 years to really make it happen and become a strong and influential 'institution' on campus. Perhaps less time if we actually have a dedicated team working on it, but I think a minimum of 5 years is reasonable.

And all this in the midst of uncertainty as to where I'll be, and what I'll be doing, a year from now.

I also appreciated the meeting with Azira. Writing, photography and story-telling have always been close to my heart. To use these talents/interests of mine to serve the environmental movement is something that does interest me, but I haven't found a suitable outlet for that just yet. Perhaps Azira might be that missing link. I'll keep in touch with her and we'll see where things go from there.


So these are the things that remain close to my heart: writing, art and photography, heritage/history, cool colonial buildings, conscientious architecture. I'm probably not going to build any high-tech, cutting-edge buildings; probably not going to develop solutions for solid waste; probably not going to make headway in the energy equation; probably not going to run for office and become Minister for the Environment... I only say 'probably' because I don't know, and I'm not going to discount the possibilities that any of these may happen.

But somewhere deep inside (and I think it shows on projects like the ET photo project, the Singapore postcards, my SUSI portfolio, the environmental photojournalism award, and the published poems), I think my ideal 'operating matrix' is none of the above. I'm still searching for it, and still communicating my vision of (and for) the world, along the way. And I am so grateful for all the conversations and insights we've shared along the way—the time in Singapore last year, and this week here in Malaysia, have not been in vain at all.


Have a great SUSI 2012!

Victorians: From Diwali to Chap Goh Mei

This is the 950th post, and easily the last major ‘checkpoint’ before the next milestone of 1000. As I think about it, I realise that the whole thing about journalling, about blogging, is centred around two areas: the experiences that make up your life, and the people who bring about—and give meaning to—those experiences.

These are some of those people who've stuck around over the years:

30 October 2011

Kishan, Diwali breakfast/brunch at his house last year.

Danial.

With Danial, Jon, Kishan and Kishan's friend, Matthew.

4 November 2011

Jon, the great 'unconstitutional' illustrator, VI Library.

Jon and Miss Shanti.

The visionary INTP look, Form 6 Biology lab, VI.

26 December 2011

Fang Hai and Kishan, after post-Christmas brunch at Nirwana Bangsar Baru.

31 December 2011

Jon and Kuhan, after Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows, Times Square.

With Jon and Kuhan, in suitably Christmas-sy colours.

3-7 February 2012

With Victorians Jeru, Kuhan, Fang Hai, Jon and Kishan, Sauce@Esplanade, Singapore.

Jon and Kuhan, Tanjong Piai, Johor.

Jon and Kuhan, on the Sinaran Selatan from JB to Kluang.

18 February 2012

Jon and Kuhan, convinced we need a real cocktail party, Royal Oak at Jaya One.

Sri Melaka

Ash Wednesday, 2012.


We live in strange seasons
Desiring pain in prosperity, and emptiness
Where there is more than enough.

Peeling tangerines, the hands fragrant
Reminiscent of the celebrations of years past
(The years have passed so fast.)
“Oh, look how he’s grown,” to “Are you married yet?”
The world itself a smaller place—
Or, perhaps we, having grown, now occupy more space.
The ceiling lower, or we’ve grown taller
Our parents aged, and we’ve grown older.

I saw an egret alight on a tree,
A rarity in the rampant emptying of resting places.
Our social graces extinct in the gentrified gutters of the city,
Sunk like stones sinking in koi ponds,
Which, for the most part are coy ponds
In their deception—
Teeming, apparently, with life, while the only life
Is wheels turning, water recycled, fish floating
Suspended in the mirage of a living pond.

Somewhere between the sleeping station and the roaring jungle river
My destiny awaits.
I greet it with stale oranges bearing my name,
Kept for this very purpose
To be flung into the darkness
In hopes of being found.
There’s no one around, "Quick, into the cabin!
Into the shower while no one’s watching—"
Midnight masquerades with ourselves
While the moon shines bright as day.

We live in strange seasons
Desiring pain in prosperity, and emptiness
Where there is more than enough.

The survivor, seven times struck by lightning
Severed the cord of his life
On account of a failed relationship;
Depression—the electrical impulses within,
More powerful than those without. 
Emptiness, where there is more than enough
To discourage, to disrupt, to destroy—
Who would not desire a simpler life,
The yesterday of India over the tomorrow of Japan?
Two futures, but we proceed into neither
For the future is every decision we make today.

Pierced bodies in procession, momentarily
Interrupted for political interludes, birds caged,
Aged eagles with unspreaded wings
Chattering into an impatient crowd.
Silver and gold have I none, but such as I have
None of these can give—
No manifestoes, no mock cheques, no masterful orations or oratorios
But the blind see, the deaf hear, the sick are cured
The dead are raised to life.

It’s a long night’s journey.
Realistically, I’ll need four hours—
I’ll start at seven,
Work will take me till eleven.

A suicide wish: four snails, several metres apart,
Crossing a three-foot pathway, no fear
Of jogger, or childer, or dogs
With dogged determination at the hour of death.

I came by this way before; I’ll come by this way again
With nothing left to lose, and everything to gain.
The world is your oyster. Thank you,
I’ll have mine with lemon juice and Tabasco sauce
My magnum opus in six days because
It’s all I have.

Watch me in seventy-two
(Between sunset, moonset and sunrise too);
O you who look to seaward, sit still
Among these rocks, in ship-filled docks
And windowsills.



* * *

Written on Ash Wednesday, the poem incorporates thoughts, events and reflections since Chinese New Year. The title itself draws from several particularly strong childhood memories of Chinese New Year.

New Beginnings

Looking through my 'draft' posts, I discovered this entry/poem which was meant to go up in early 2011—over an entire year ago.

It was something I wrote at the BLC 'New Beginnings' retreat at Peacehaven, Genting Highlands, from 7-9 January 2011; Sivin's 'farewell' retreat.

* * *

New Beginnings

You cannot write when it is too bright; there is a glare.
Window light, muted through matted glass is best;
It will pass for the part that matters—
Pen or pencil, and paper—
While the rest sits within the darkness, recessed.

Blow wind, blow away the masked charades of yesterday—
The hiding and not wanting to be seen, and all the lying in between.
How can you lead when you can barely follow;
How can you eat when you can barely swallow
A drop of the cup that is fire and briars?

Noel said to Tim,
Come up, you'll feel like the king of the universe
And also scared.
I wonder if the kings of this world were similarly
Unprepared to live on the mountains
They had dared to conquer,
To tread between the gaining and the losing,
And the hiding in the upper rooms.

Between the coffee and the spoons of sugar, a piece
Of bad news, yet for now, life resumes.



[Written on Saturday, 8 Jan; during the morning reflection. "And the hiding in the upper rooms" added later.]

* * *

The young men of BLC.

Mich and Joan, one.

Mich and Joan, two.

Mich and Joan, three.

Girl, Sivin and Mich.

It would seem the three of them are really living quite the life now. Sivin and family are doing great in Norway, Joan's having quite the experience of a lifetime near Sivin and SooT, and Mich—well, let's just say Mich is in the midst of something very life-changing. ;-)

62811

Welcome to Indonesia!

Dial 121 for your Voice Mail and 123 for Customer Care, the same way as you do in Malaysia.

Have a pleasant stay with Telkomsel.

[Tanjong Piai, Johor, 6 Feb 2012.]

Imagine

Receiving everything someone in your position could ever want, and walking away from it.

Imagine looking the girl you've wanted to be with for 'donkey months' (so a friend says) in the eye, and walking away from her.

Some things don't change, like the ice-cream man outside school.

You've got to figure this road out for yourself. You're not living somebody else's life.

Good Will Hunting is such an apt movie for times like these. And a great movie to kick Lent off.

Taman Negara, August 2011

When the family went on a trip last year with Aunty Daphne's family, I was excited—at the prospect of the trip more than the destination itself.

While I'd never been to Taman Negara before (unless you count the part where the BF Classmates crossed the north border of Taman Negara via Kenyir), I must confess I wasn't particularly thrilled about entering a rainforest yet again. Three years of walking through rainforest was quite enough for me!—hence even the Bukit Tinggi trip with Thary was more of a favour for a friend than anything else.

We were there over the Merdeka/Hari Raya weekend, and left on the first day of Raya.

I didn't take many pictures on this trip, partly because I just wanted to relax and have a real holiday, but also partly because it was a rainforest and I'm not much of a wildlife photographer. Don't get me wrong; the rainforest is a beautiful and majestic place, and Malaysia's rainforests are about as good as it gets. But while factory visits may be fun for school groups, they are probably not nearly as fun for the factory workers themselves.

That is not to say the trip was devoid of interest. I very much enjoyed the solo trail run at 6.00 a.m. on the third day (we stayed three nights), in the darkness and the rain. It was a misty and overcast morning, but the run itself was worth every centimetre of ground covered. And no photographs can capture experiences as awesome as that—you have to be there to do it yourself.

* * *

Flora

Big buttress roots.

Fiddlehead at dawn, Bukit Terisek.

Mist over canopy, view towards Gunung Tahan from Bukit Terisek.

Fauna

Roosting (sleeping) birds at night.

(A rare sight!—thanks to our guide, Abdullah, for pointing it out.)

The boar, Mutiara Taman Negara.

Careful where you put your fingers! I got bitten—gnawed on, more like—trying to get closer for a super-close-up shot, and saw myself across the river for an antitetanus jab at the Klinik Kesihatan.

Termites on (tree) trunk.

I thought the 'formation' kinda looked like some sort of bird—or an elephant's head and trunk.

River

Jetty at evening, Kampung Kuala Tahan.

The village is named for the confluence of Sungai Tahan from the north and Sungai Tembeling from the northeast.

Rapids shooting—splash!

Cruising up Sungai Tahan.

The two families.

* * *

Technical matters:

I shot Tri-X and Velvia 50. Still can't really wrap myself around Velvia! Nikon N80 with 18-35mm, 70-210mm and 50mm lenses.

It was the last significant film outing of the year—not counting the rolls of Portra and Ektar used at Val's and Kaun's Convo shoots, Diwali season, and Audrey's wedding reception in December, and the odd roll of Tri-X shot every now and then.

Photographically, the KB/Thailand trip with George yielded perhaps the most balanced portfolio of the year; but there was still a long way to go in reconciling the photographic 'liveliness' of the Kenyir trip (brilliantly colourful, if somewhat 'unfocused', with the extensive range of films used) and the more intentional streamlining of Mensa Thailand and Kuching.

Something that wasn't quite addressed until the 'Roaring Tiger, Sleeping Station' trip earlier this month. But that's a story for another post. ;-)

Valentine's: True at First Light

In Africa a thing is true at first light and a lie by noon and you have no more respect for it than for the lovely, perfect weed-fringed lake you see across the sun-baked plain. You have walked across that plain in the morning and you know that no such lake is there. But now it is there, absolutely true, beautiful and believable.

~ Epigraph from Ernest Hemingway's True at First Light


The phrase 'true at first light' came to mind when I saw these sunrise scenes unfolding before me at Chagar Hutang, Redang.

* * *

Eric Peris says, "Don't worry too much about what people think of your photographs. If they don't like your pictures, it's their problem, not yours."

He says, "Look at pictures in books and magazines, but don't copy them because they have been done before. Do something different. Be a rebel, but not a rebel without a cause."

We met over lunch on 28 Jan with Aunty Sheila, Alan and another friend of theirs.

In the week that followed, I decided I was ready to be a rebel with a cause. A rebel against the current trends in which cameras are vested with so much power. Against 51 AF points, against 5 frames-per-second, against high ISO and fancy lighting and more megapixels than you can wrap your head around. Even, against flawless metering.

There must be some room for error.

Photography should not be about the ability to compensate for bad light—unless you are a journalist and you don't have a choice under some circumstances. If the light is poor, why bother shooting? Go where the light is already great, because there, no matter what, the pictures will always be awesome.

* * *

I saw this quote on Sam's blog yesterday:

"Why didn't I learn to treat everything like it was the last time. My greatest regret was how much I believed in the future."

~ Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close


It's so true. And I don't want to let this year slip through my fingers as I often have allowed the years to. There is no future—the future is now and everything I do in the present becomes whatever I imagine my future to be.

In Africa, Hemingway writes, a thing is true at first light and a lie by noon. That which is true now, may not be true later, or tomorrow, because by then we would have changed and it would be too late to recapture what we felt, and knew, to be true now.

The time is now, and this is the year to act.

* * *

And then there are the people you love, across seas, across mountains.

I can never forget 2006.

A place where everything was unexpectedly possible. I don't think it would be an overstatement to say, once again, how much I owe to you for recording that video, but most of all for being there.

For always being there.


It was my 'Lemon' moment.

A man captures colour
A man likes to stare
He turns his money into light to look for her

Bono was writing about the experience of seeing video footage of his mother in her childhood, about how we seek to immortalise our experiences in photographs and videos.

And when I see myself again, I see her. Now I know what Eric Peris means when he says that he is in his photographs, because she was there with me in the captured light.

* * *

Photographs replicate reality, it would seem. But I think it is more accurate to say that photographs distort reality. A thing is true at first light, and a lie by noon, because you are not the same person who saw what you saw when at first you saw it. And when others come to see what you claimed to have seen, they naturally do not see it either.

The first photograph, the colour photograph at the top of this post, represents the light I saw, the sunrise I experienced. But if you—or someone else—stands where I stood, looking in the same direction at the same time, expecting that light, you would not find it.

I actually like the black-and-white sunrise better. Mind you, this was not converted from a colour photograph! I shot in on B&W film, on a different morning.

The colour photograph is closer to what I saw, but then it is a little too real and leaves too little for the viewer's imagination. Good photographs, like good novels and good art and good music, should always leave room for the viewer's imagination, should always draw the viewer in, and to do so they must never say too much or say things too obviously.

That is why black-and-white, by stripping the world of colour, forces us to engage with the photograph on a different level. Why is shooting in B&W different from shooting in colour and then converting to B&W? Because the photographer himself must also engage the world on this other level, and before stripping the viewer of the crutch of colour, he must first strip himself.


Colour is illusion, colour is distraction.

But amidst all the changing, swirling colours of life you have been as consistent as black-and-white. You have always been there.

Kuching 2011

Five days. Three hot girls. Trouble if I ever saw it coming.

But, I didn't. And 10-14 July 2011 was spent in Kuching with Teeming, Tien and Nasha. The trip turned out to be great fun in a laid-back sort of way, with all sorts of unexpected little twists and turns.

Tien and I had been meaning to visit Bako, Teeming hadn't been on a holiday with us in some time, and I wanted to hang out a bit with Nasha before she left for the States.

We arrived on Sunday, spent Monday in Damai and Santubong, Tuesday in Bako, Wednesday in Semenggoh (after which Nasha parted ways to return to KL) and Kuching, and Thursday just hanging about town, before nearly missing our evening flight back to KL. We were joined now and then by Teeming's friend, Lynn.

Tien got us a room for all four nights at the Anglican Guesthouse, St Thomas [sic] Cathedral.

* * *

Arrival

St Thomas Cathedral, where Teeming and I went for evening service on Sunday.

Main hall, Anglican Guesthouse.

A simple accommodation, but reasonably priced (it was something like RM40 a night for a twin-sharing room) and managed by the very friendly Pilot.

They don't call the city Kuching for nothing.

Damai and Santubong

The stretch at Damai Beach, my introduction to Sarawak in 1999.

Water carves its way, Damai Beach.

The rose amid the rocks, Damai Beach.

Bako National Park

The second oldest national park in Malaysia, after Taman Negara in Pahang. The park warrants a four-day stay, although we could only manage a day trip, as accommodation was fully booked way in advance.

On the cliff overlooking the gorgeous beach at Teluk Pandan Kecil.

Sandstone formations, Teluk Pandan Kecil.

The young woman and the sea, Teluk Pandan Kecil.

Some think Taib's Sarawak is a good place to start. ;-)

Kuching

50-sen river crossing, Sarawak River.

The day awakens, Jalan Gambier.

The hidden Indian Mosque, Jalan Gambier.

Tucked away behind shops and stalls selling enough spices to sink the Portuguese armada, the Indian Mosque is perhaps one of (old) Kuching's most understated charms.

Newspaper wallah at the open-air market, end of Jalan India.

The huge mosque in the distance is the Kuching Mosque. The open-air market, at the west end of town, is one of the best places to eat in Kuching—if the locals say so, it must be so!

Tien and archway, Bishopgate Road.

There was once an entrance/access from this road to the compound of the Anglican Mission complex (the present-day St Thomas Cathedral grounds). A giant brick wall separated the complex from the shophouses of the bazaar, but today most parts of the wall have been torn down to make way for a new road.

View of Kuching from the Star Cineplex building.

The large compound in the foreground is part of the Anglican Mission complex. This is the view facing west.

Variations on the 'Tak Nak' theme.

This sign was spotted at the shop selling herbal tea at its front counter. We stopped for a glass or so each.

Cobbler, Kuching.

No such thing as a free pee, somewhere near Jalan India/Jalan Gambier.

Old and new, Kuching.

I loved the juxtaposition of the Main Post Office with all its Corinthian pillars, against the signboards proclaiming 'new development!' just across the street.

Anglican Guesthouse, rear.

Shot with a red filter with polariser, hence the vignetting and slightly more dramatic sky.

Departure

Rainbow over traffic, Kuching.

Stuck in a traffic jam with barely 15 minutes left for check-in, we were really pushing it. But the rainbow gave us some sort of hope, and in spite of a pit-stop for petrol, the taxi driver got us there just in time.

Tien in ERL.

This shot, taken on the ERL from KLIA to Bandar Tasik Selatan, reminded me of the quote from Georges Simenon's The Man Who Watched the Trains Go By, which was used as the epigraph for Paul Theroux's Ghost Train to the Eastern Star:

"That feeling about trains, for instance. Of course he had long outgrown the boyish glamour of the steam engine. Yet there was something that had an appeal for him in trains, especially night trains, which always put queer, vaguely improper notions into his head."

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Technical matters:

All B&W footage shot on Kodak TriX. All colour photos shot with the phone camera.

Nikon FM10 with 28mm and 105mm lenses. Red and polarising filters for some of the landscapes. Yellow filter for the 'Kuching awakens' shots.