Singapore Sojourn Part Two by Roger Smith

SINGAPORE SOJOURN January 2007 – April 2007

Washing HDB Roger Smith

Extracts from New Zealander Roger Smith’s Blog www.singaporesojourn.blogspot.com

Part 2 – 2007 COPYRIGHT ROGER SMITH 2009

Chiquitita and Chips Sunday, 7 January 2007 How could we ever forget such eloquent lyrics as: "Chiquitita, you and I know, how the heartaches come and they go and the scars they’re leaving" or "Ring, ring, why don’t you give me a call? Ring, ring, the happiest sound of them all”? While not the greatest of verse, it creators, ABBA, were certainly one of Sweden's most successful exports. In Singapore there is another such export with Swedish connections‐ in a word, IKEA. As I have always enjoyed Scandinavian design it has been a great relief to discover low cost furniture with good design principles and of a scale that is suitable to modern apartment living in Singapore. Not only does the local populace flock to IKEA every weekend they also have taken a shine to the restaurant offerings such as Chicken Wings and Swedish Meatballs (see picture). The meatballs in question vary little in design from the traditional English Meatball but are noticeably smaller. Lucky I was wearing my reading glasses at time of ordering or I might have missed them on the plate. IKEA is no 'Johnny Come Lately' on the Singaporean scene ‐ it has been here for the past twenty eight years. At the end of 2006 it opened an even bigger megastore at Tampines and did do with a traditional wood cutting ceremony. Knowing the efficiency of the Swedes, it is quite possible that the table we decided to purchase yesterday was recycled from the same ceremonial log. COPYRIGHT ROGER SMITH 2009

Blending In Monday, 8 January 2007 I have taken an aversion to nonsensical marketing statements, even though I spent many years in marketing myself and can appreciate the value of a good slogan or tag line. A quick walk or bus ride around Singapore reveals many examples where the English language has either been completely mangled, or abbreviated to such an extent that the original context of the sentence or statement becomes totally obscure. This morning as I sat on the 111 bus I was invited to "Blend into the intersection of work and play" on a large billboard announcing yet another condominium development. I would have thought that the concept of "blending into intersections" was promoting an activity that is fraught with danger. At Christmas, a Japanese manufacturer implored me in tinseled tones to “Celebrate the Real". The real 'what' was never explained and the value of such open‐ended statements have to be questioned. (I never did by my new vacuum cleaner from this company). The concern for the 'mangling' of the English language has even moved to the local newspapers. There is a regular column in the Straits Times dedicated to the worst examples on view in public places. In far more humorous vein is the The Coxford Singlish Dictionary , a part of the satirical site, TalkingCock. It contains some good writing and ribald commentary and is not for the faint hearted, but fun never the less.

The panoramic view from our new condominium's lounge window COPYRIGHT ROGER SMITH 2009

Smouldering Credit cards and Biking Follies Sunday, 14 January 2007

There is a certain solemnity about traffic accidents. It reminds one of the frailties of the human body and how one life experience can be so quickly changed to another. I mention this because as I was travelling home in a cab Thursday evening we came across a scene of personal tragedy involving a motor cyclist and a car that had hit him while trying to run an intersection. This event had happened only a few moments before we arrived on the scene and already several passers‐by had rushed to the prone man's aid as he lay, clad in cycling leathers, near the middle of the road. If ever I needed a reminder just how dangerous riding a motorbike can be, this was it. This is very much the case in the torrential downpours that are experienced here where the road can get very slippery in a thrice. It is not uncommon to see huddles of cyclists under over bridges on the expressways as they don their wet weather gear, in the face of an advancing storm. In a far more cheerful vein, we spent much of yesterday visiting our apartment, which is being renovated. The good news is that it will be ready for us by next Thursday. On the strength of this information we swung into action and with credit cards flashing, descended upon 'Bests' which is the local chain of stores that sell electrical and households goods. Several thousands of dollars later we staggered out and then set about alerting removal men, the local Telco's and everyone else who needs to be notified of our impending shift. One quick visit to the local Police station with our identity cards meant that our new address was recorded. They in turn will alert all government departments on our behalf. If only Singtel could emulate the local constabulary's efficiency!

On Being Green Friday, 19 January 2007 It's a Saturday and this particular day of the week in particular is a rather special one for two reasons. Firstly I am back at work. Not an unusual occurrence in Singapore but a first for me for many years. We are about to stage the university's first public Open Day and the official opening of the institution in Singapore. Most of the official formalities are being held in the library and so our team are supporting wherever necessary. The officiating dignitary is the Minister of Education, Mr. Tharman Shanmugaratnam. He also happens to be the second Minister of Finance so is important on two counts. Some of today's highlights will include a traditional Lion Dance and an "Ozzie Barbeque" for lunch. Questioning reveals that this will not be the traditional "Ozzie BBQ" as most of us know it, as there is to be no beer and no cricket blaring from a television. Staff are resplendent in their bright green sweat shirts (see photo left) and visitors will receive a "goody bag" of similar hue. One is reminded of an invasion of 'Kermits' as they scurry around in preparation. The second reason that this is an important day is that we are currently in transition between our current rented apartment and our new condominium. The renovations are and the first lot of new furnishing and appliance arrive tomorrow. It is needless to say a very tiring time, neither living in one place or another and it will be good to have this shift out of the way by Wednesday evening. One final note on 'being green'. The price of greens and other vegetables has risen sharply in recent weeks as a direct result of the severe flooding in Malaysia. Singapore sources most of its vegetable from its immediate neighbour and has now been forced to buy from China and other countries.

First Night and Bonus Offers Wednesday, 24 January 2007 First night in the new "condo" and the body is aching from the unaccustomed physical exertion. Fortuitously there is a gym in our Queens complex so I think it’s about time I got back to an exercise regime. The last time I ventured into such a place the exercise machines were far less complex than they are now. Modern machines have so many dials, gauges and knobs that a pilot's license is needed before setting foot on a treadmill or exercycle. The other disturbing thing about modern gym equipment is the plethora of health signage and lights that appear when one's body fat index reaches critical mass. Signs that your blood pressure could explode like an over‐ripe durian (if you overdo it) are everywhere and none too comforting. The view of Singapore in the evening is very pleasant, with the commercial and HDB building twinkling in the distance. The new shower has been tested and found to be satisfactory while the computerised washing machine has automatically weighed the washing, suggested the amount of soap powder to be used and started of its own accord. Singapore has some wonderful electronics and appliances available for purchase, many of which are models that have yet to reach the Antipodes. The competition is fierce and so sales are often sweetened with "offers". For example our purchase of a 32 inch Samsung LCD television resulted in a bonus home theatre system plus vouchers worth several hundred dollars to spend at the local Robinsons department store. I suspect we will literally be dining out on free supermarket vouchers for the next month. COPYRIGHT ROGER SMITH 2009

Coy About Carp Thursday, 25 January 2007 Yes I know, it's a terrible pun! Koi Carp are very popular in Chinese and Japanese cultures in fact the word "koi" actually means "carp". So the name "koi carp" is in fact "carp carp", which is carping on a bit. On a walk around our new condominium we came across the "Koi Carp Pool" referred in the apartment's promotional literature. The fish in question are quite beautiful as they swim lazily in the direction of the currents produced by the pond's aeration system. Being a cold water fish they prefer a deep pool and we seem to have a predominance of the Kohaku variety which has a white body with red patterns. An adult Koi grows to about a metre in length and ours are probably three quarters of that length and must be very valuable. The Japanese have become fanatical breeders of Koi and have named many colour variations. They are symbols of prosperity in Japanese culture, so judging from the stocking ratio of our pool I should be a wealthy man in the very near future, unless of course I have to share my good fortune with the other 721 residents of the apartment complex. Not that I am tempted to breed Koi myself, as investing in a Cyprinus carpio is similar to investing in a marriage ‐ the average lifespan of koi can reach over 50 years, with the longest life spans over 100 years. COPYRIGHT ROGER SMITH 2009

Springing into New Year Friday, 2 February 2007 The build up to Chinese New Year is neither quiet nor subtle. One minute it is Christmas and the next the golden doves of peace and glowing baubles have been replaced by red paper pineapples, canned music and assorted prosperity symbols. Shops are hawking the sweetmeats (my favourite is bak kwa‐ pictured left) that are a specialty of the season and every hawker centre appears to have a temporary trestle or two with seasonal merchandise and special items such as fruit‐bearing mandarin bushes. Chinese households have live plants in bloom to symbolize rebirth. Flowers are symbols of wealth and elevated career positions. There are a lot of pussy willow and plum blossom branches for sale in the markets at the moment. According to some sources plum blossom reliability and perseverance. Chinese believe that flowers are fundamental to the formation of fruit. Therefore, it is very important to have flowers and floral decorations. If you want to know more about the Chinese New Year festival I would suggest a visit to Wikipedia So how are we celebrating the New Year ‐ by escaping from it, that's how! We have booked a few days up in the Genting Highlands which promises cool airs and the ability to lose money quickly in the local casinos if one feels so inclined. It is a seven hour coach trip from Singapore to Genting so here's hoping the bus is of the highest quality, especially as we need to board said vehicle at 6:30 in the morning. I have alluded to the frenzy of buying that accompanies Chinese New Year with the concept of new clothes "inside and out". This includes footwear but as with most things in town, if you know where to look there are bargains to be had. COPYRIGHT ROGER SMITH 2009

Ten minutes walk from us is the Queensway Shopping Centre, one of the older malls. Its claim to fame is that it is full of sporting and sportswear shops. You can buy a good pair of branded sandshoes much cheaper than in the main shopping districts and it is the same location where I get my large format prints produced ‐ the upper levels are reserved for print shops. Today we walked up past Anchorpoint to Queensway and bought two lightweight windbreakers at less than $25 a piece. These are for our forthcoming sortie to the Genting Highlands. The night airs there range from 13 to 17 degrees and we of course have become acclimatised to much higher temperatures in recent months.

Repainted HDB Roger Smith COPYRIGHT ROGER SMITH 2009

An Antibiotic Episode Sunday, 11 February 2007 This is a short entry after having been laid low by a bout of acute food poisoning in the middle of last week, contacted in our very own university canteen no less. It is many years since I have sunk so low so quickly and it reminded me of the other fact of relocating to a new climate and country ‐ the bugs pick out the newcomer and react more virulently on the unsuspecting stomach! This realisation usually happens within the first six months of arrival and I just managed to squeeze my bout in within this timeframe. At least today my course of antibiotics have been completed (or should that be 'curse' of antibiotics as they too affect the stomach) and I am easing my body back to the realisation that it needs to eat food. For my part I have resolved to give the Malay food (and chili in particular) a miss. My second resolution is to write a short ditty on the subject which I shall do when the moods take. To more edifying matters. We are packing our suitcase in preparation for four days in Genting. This means an early morning start on Thursday as the bus departs at 6:30 am from Singapore and allowing for comfort stops does not reach its destination until about 2pm in the afternoon. The advertising for Chinese New Year continues unabated, the price of Bak Kwa mentioned in an early blog entry has reached $48 per kilo and poor old "Valentine’s Day" (which is this week) very much plays second fiddle as a festival in these parts. As this will be my final posting until after New Year can I wish you Gong Xi Fa Cai! COPYRIGHT ROGER SMITH 2009

A Gentle Genting Caper Monday, 19 February 2007 We have just returned from four days away; a quick respite from the heat of Singapore. Our destination of choice was the Genting Highlands which is an hour’s drive away from Kuala Lumpur or seven hours if you did what we did and went by coach from Singapore itself. We decided to beat the Chinese New Year crowds and went two days before the festivities commenced. This would give us a fair chance of getting a reasonably room on a non‐smoking floor of the rather optimistically named, First World Hotel. We rose at an ungodly hour to ensure that we got to the Queens Street bus terminal in time for the 6:30 departure. The cab we booked for 5:30 am arrived early and so when we got to the terminal (which was in fact a dilapidated shed with a grimy window) it was not yet 6 a.m. Our plans for buying some breakfast evaporated as nothing was open. Eventually, while I guarded the suitcase, my wife managed to find an open shop in a nearby street. The luxury coach was a double decker and we passengers were accommodated on the upper level. The bottom level seemed to be largely occupied by a day bed for the driver and our luggage shared the same space. The bus's brochure proudly proclaimed that it had reclining seats. I now know this to be true, as the catch on my seat was faulty resulting in me travelling the entire journey in a reclining position. Not that I was complaining as the early start to the morning made this a most pleasant position to be in. The roads in Malaysia are excellent and maintained through revenue gathered at toll stations along the way. The landscape is dominated by oil palm plantations which is one of Malaysia's foremost industries. We had two stops en route and a meal in Yong Ping where I purchased and attempted to digest probably the worst bau (steamed bun) I have ever tasted. As will all such bus halts, the prices were steep by local standards. The Malaysian Ringgit is about 2.2 to the Singapore dollar. Having passed through the outskirts of K.L. we climbed rapidly into the Genting Highlands and there looming above us was the multi‐hued, Colditz of gambling and theme park gratification, COPYRIGHT ROGER SMITH 2009

the First World Hotel. Because of the altitude it was almost permanently mantled with cloud which made the entire complex a most surreal apparition (see picture above). For the first two days we had a relaxing time enjoying the coolness of the air which is a marked contrast to the humidity and heat of Singapore. However on the eve of Chinese New Year the experience changed dramatically with a huge influx of guests, many of whom seemed to be on cheap package tours from China. The hotel has 6,000 rooms and each one seemed to have an extended family in it. Every second person was a chain smoker and even on our "non‐smoking" floor the occupants flagrantly ignored the rules and smoked as and when they wished. None of the staff seemed either able or willing to police the non smoking ban. The great irony was that the lobby was meant to be smoke free but other public places such as the casinos and eateries were not. This meant that non smokers such as ourselves and the staff, were subjected constantly to second hand smoke and our clothes and skin stank on cigarettes by day's end. It is not a good omen that one of the successful bidders for the Singapore Integrated Resorts ‐ to be built on Sentosa ‐ is the Genting Group who own and operate the Genting Highlands resort. I hope that Singapore government takes a very tough stand and bans smoking from the start, to protect the staff who work there and patrons in general from the insidious danger of passive smoking. The trend worldwide is move to a smoke free environment and in New Zealand smoking is banned in all restaurants and public places such as casinos. Australia is moving in a similar direction and despite the protestations of the gambling industry, revenue barely dipped with the strict introduction of such policies. Our room in the First World Hotel was small and basic. If we stayed again we would pay more and upgrade to a World Club room which are more spacious and better appointed. No air conditioning was in evidence nor required as the climate was pleasantly cool. We even called for an extra blanket. The food experience throughout the entire resort was sub standard. Breakfast in the hotel's eight floor restaurant was cattle class chaos. People milling everywhere, self help toasters with elements so poor they required four passes through the machine to get anything resembling toast, 'hot' buffet that contained some dishes that were decidedly chilled, watered down fruit juices and fellow diners without a skerrick of table manners between them! COPYRIGHT ROGER SMITH 2009

Food outlets in the resorts were also marginal with the possible exception of Kenny Roger's Chicken and a local variation called Marry Brown. No, this is not a spelling mistake, it is Marry not Mary. I had only been to Genting once before and that was twenty years ago when there was but one hotel/casino. The theme park and the other hotels are more recent developments with the park itself being a very popular destination for children and are of comparable standard to those in the States. Chinese New Year entertainment was not that inspired but we did view a traditional Lion dance as well as some singing groups who performed on the public stages. Lessons to be learned from our holiday? Firstly don't travel to a Chinese‐oriented resort during Chinese New Year as the crowds are indeed madding. Secondly, pay a bit more and stay in a better class of room. The climate was certainly invigorating ‐ the smoking was not.

Genting Roger Smith

Making Hei While the Sun Shines & Funky Gibbons Friday, 23 February 2007 Yesterday our staff celebrated Loh Hei, which involves the very pleasurable pursuit of tossing large quantities of raw fish and vegetables into the air while reciting various auspicious sentiments related to the New Year desire for prosperity, health and general well being. You are a natural 'tosser' I hear you say, so you would be in your element. Quite so! The above mentioned vegetable/fish dish is actually named Yee Sang and the Lo Hei which is one of the statements made as one's chopsticks are held aloft, refers to liveliness, prosperity and longevity. Newcomers to this ritual were well briefed by one of our Chinese Singaporean colleagues although I should record that some were a little too enthusiastic in their aerial acrobatics as growing piles of noodles on the floor bore testament. As a staff bonding session it sure beats the more conservative European team building exercises much beloved by management consultants. Do, Do, Do the Funky Gibbon was a lyric from a song of the same name by the Monty Python cast. Even though the song is never likely to make a comeback to the charts, gibbons are very much to the fore at the Singapore Art Museum. Late morning we paid our first visit to the converted St Joseph's College (right) and thoroughly enjoyed the exhibitions. Chen Wen Hsi was a pioneer artist in Singapore and mastered both traditional Chinese and Western art forms and media. COPYRIGHT ROGER SMITH 2009

He had a fascination with birds and animals and his gibbon and wading birds paintings were very stimulating and full of life. The other thing that impressed me about the SAM was the permanent collection of South East Asian art. A very impressive addition to the Museum was the Venezia Cafe where I enjoyed their lunch special of a generous helping of Slipper Lobster linguini, soup, bread and coffee for $15++. The Slipper Lobster was not wearing any footwear but did resemble the Australian Morton Bay Bug and I suspect that its name comes from the splay of its tail which does vaguely resemble a slipper. We will definitely return to the SAM from time to time to take in the exhibitions. The 111 bus from outside our condominium took us practically on the museum's doorstep so we are fortunate with the public transport. On the way back we dropped into Deli France and picked up some of their discounted chicken patties, which we had previously observed drop to $1 in price after 1pm. Tonight is the big Chingay parade down Orchard Road. Although the event is now largely associated with Singapore, it actually started as a float parade in Penang in 1905. I watched the show on television and then quite by chance discovered the Malaysian equivalent on their television channel. The Malacca Chingay appealed to me more as it retained a focus on the traditional Chinese performances associated with the New Year. The repetition of unstructured 'dances' by community groups in the Singaporean parade made it a bit tedious. That said, Singapore had floats and Malacca did not. COPYRIGHT ROGER SMITH 2009

Simply Not Cricket Friday, 2 March 2007 I work for an Australian university that is establishing itself here in Singapore and this week is D Day (or more precisely "O" Week) when our first students arrive for their orientation. Quite naturally we retain a certain 'Ozzie' flavour in our programmes and approach to education so it came as no surprise to see that a cricket match was scheduled as part of the week long activities. An invitation has been issued to any staff member who understands terms such "square leg" and "googly" to step forward and join the team. Not surprisingly most of my Singaporean colleagues seem somewhat bemused by the cricket jargon and Australian fixation for this game. This year I shall not be taking up the invitation to participate but shall cheer from the sidelines. There is a reason for this ‐ my last cricket outing forty years ago ended in somewhat humiliating circumstances. I was a fifth former at a New Zealand boarding school at the time and a good rugby player although only adequate at cricket. I came from a cricketing family and my father had been a provincial captain, so I recall that in my infancy our family often travelled to cricket matches to watch my father's team compete. Very pleasurable memories they were to as the journey home often meant fish and chips wrapped in newspaper was the evening fare. By the fifth form I had managed to wheedle myself into the Fourth Eleven. To celebrate this elevation my father bought me a pair of white leather cricket boots. Nowadays cricketers wear much lighter footwear but in the '60's heavy white, leather lace‐ups where all the fashion and they had small metal sprigs in the sole for grip. One had to install the sprigs oneself and I was given implicit instruction on where to place them and the need to hammer them firmly home. I spent considerable time positioning the sprigs and considerably less time hammering them in. Came the day of the match on the Gully ground and I was ordered to bat in the middle order, such was the confidence of my team mates in my abilities. There were no artificial pitches in those days and the wicket was overlaid with mats made out of woven jute to protect the grass underneath. COPYRIGHT ROGER SMITH 2009

My moment arrived with our team struggling to meet the opposition's first inning total and the need for a 'solid knock' from the middle order. I strode purposely to the crease, surveyed the surrounding fielding position and faced the first ball. To my surprise, the opposing team's bowler was a worse player than I. His first ball was so slow that it allowed me to connect with it and hit it to the boundary ‐ a most respectable 'four' was recorded and my team mates sat up and took notice. It would be stretching the truth to say that they were awe struck, but as they had never seen me score in this fashion before it was no doubt somewhat of a novelty. Play continued with the odd darting run between the wickets and several other boundaries. I actually started to enjoy myself and was brimming with confidence as I reached a score of twenty six. Could this be the start of a century partnership? Alas it was not to be. The very next ball was delicately nudged past the slip fielders requiring a quick single between the wickets. It was at this moment that my ill‐hammered sprigs ruined my ambition. Down the wicket I sprinted, bat in glove. Half way to my destination a loose sprig went through the weave of the jute, bringing me to an immediate halt. Such was my momentum that I pitched forward, midway down the wicket. Try as I might, I could not extract my boot from the jute and was run out. Five minutes later after I had unlaced the boot and the groundsman had been called to extract it from the wicket; I limped off a cricket pitch for the last time, to the accompanying cat calls and hoots of laughter from friend and foe alike. So this coming week I shall be watching from the sidelines and admiring the skills of my Indian colleagues as they and I enjoy the crack of ball on willow. That is of course if it doesn't rain. COPYRIGHT ROGER SMITH 2009

Saucy Tales Sunday, 11 March 2007 Three days ago we held the last event for our university's orientation week ‐ a traditional 'Aussie barbeque'. As with the cricket match mentioned in the previous posting, the barbeque further highlighted the cultural values of our Australian‐sponsored institution in its new Singaporean environment. As Singaporeans enjoy food of all varieties we were on to a winner before the first 'snarler' hit the embers. Most students would have experienced barbequed food but few would have tried the 'dinkum' Australian version. I am pathologically ill disposed towards vegetarian food that attempts to masquerade as the 'real thing' and I include so‐called vegetarian sausages in this aversion. At the barbeque three types of sausage were provided ‐ beef, pork and vegetarian. The latter had the texture of sawdust and a taste to match. Interestingly, at the event's conclusion the only food remaining in any quantity were the vegetarian sausages, which I guess tells us something. There was another surprise as we prepared our food for consumption. Most aficionados of Aussie tucker will tell you that you can't have a sausage without tomato sauce to smother it. Most Kiwis will tell you exactly the same. Our food caterers entered into the spirit of the occasion by providing extra large bottles of sauce, or at least that is what we supposed them to be. The first person in the food queue soon discovered that the providers had not completely understood the menu and had instead provided tomato juice. The result was a very sodden bun that was barely edible. Our salvation was the discovery of two bottles of the 'real thing' which someone else had kindly provided. The barbeque was a great success and a credit to our senior staff, who entered into the spirit of the event and collectively turned their hands to operating the barbeques. Today being a Sunday, we ventured out of our condo to have lunch in town. COPYRIGHT ROGER SMITH 2009

At the risk of turning into yet another Singapore food blog, can I mention the Lao Beijing restaurant on the third floor of Plaza Singapura. "Lao" means old and this restaurant specialising in the simple, classical food of Beijing and Northern China. Their handmade noodles were excellent with a nice firm texture and nourishing broth. I consider this luncheon further preparation for a trip later in the year to the Chinese capital. Noodles have been around a very long time, well before the ubiquitous instant noodle graced our supermarket shelves. In 2005, archaeologists dug up the remains of neolithic noodles which were 4,000 years old. Today's "lao" noodles were thankfully not as old as these!

Student BBQ Roger Smith COPYRIGHT ROGER SMITH 2009

The Brilliantined Babu and Callisthenic Carol Wednesday, 14 March 2007 I seem fated to sit down wind from people. If there is a seat at a bus stop and I am the sole occupant, invariably the next arrival will position themselves between me and the prevailing breeze. As you may well presume there are disadvantages in this unfortunate juxtaposition, especially when the sun is at its zenith and my new neighbour has run breathlessly to catch the next bus. There are products on the supermarket shelves of Asia that once similarly graced the groceries of the western world but no longer do so. Bay Rum is a classic fragrance that brings back childhood memories of barbershops and cut‐throat razors. It is a fragrant toilet water with a long history and is made from the oil extracted from the leaves of the Bay tree. Brilliantine (image right) is another that I had long forgotten but seems never to have gone out of fashion in parts of Asia. I have discovered that there are several different varieties and fragrances ranging from the century‐old, Pashana Original whose principal binding ingredient is glycerine, to various others types with combinations of rosemary and sage, blended with castor oil. Its overly‐liberal use is much favoured by some members of the local Indian community and each morning I have a mildly obese gentleman with coiffured and slicked‐down locks who obscures my view of oncoming buses. Another morning favourite of mine is a Chinese lady I have affectionately christened "Callisthenic Carol". She makes her way to the bus stop with regimented regularity, timing her arrival so as to allow her to undertake a set of vigorous warm‐up exercises behind the bus shelter. Her flailing arms and muted grunts of exertion are a marked contrast to the posture of the sedentary Babu. Incidentally, I use the term Babu in its Indian derivation not that of the Taiwanese, where the same name is given to an ice‐cream cart. COPYRIGHT ROGER SMITH 2009

Using the public transport of Singapore is a great way to meet the real people of this country. The MRT is often too packed to take in the personalities and private cars tend to shield one from the rest of the world. Buses are our preferred mode of transport. Yesterday we took the 970 bus to Holland Village. Up until then I had largely resisted any temptation to frequent expatriate haunts. Holland Village is one such location. Having come to Singapore to live with the locals, a visit to this part of town was not high on the agenda. However I must confess that the experience was enjoyable and I succumbed to a large steak meal at the Hogs Breath Brasserie ‐ they also served a large green salad on the side which was delicious. And there wasn't the slightest whiff of Bay Rum anywhere!

Condos Roger Smith

Avian Aspirations Saturday, 24 March 2007 In the late 70's I spent three years on contract working in the Eastern Highlands of Papua New Guinea. As so often happens, one remembers most of the more interesting times and forgets much of the rest. A highlight for me was a trip in my Landcruiser up the Highlands Highway to Wabag and a two night stay at the lodge there. The lodge consisted of thatched huts and I recall that the traditionally‐clad cook delivered an inspired western style three course meal complete with carrots in a white sauce. The other thing I vividly recall was a visit to a nearby nature reserve to view the many and varied Birds of Paradise. I hadn't seen a Bird of Paradise since, until yesterday when we paid a visit to the Jurong Bird Park here in Singapore. To get there we took the MRT to Boon Lay, the last stop on the line and then boarded the 194 bus from the interchange which is right next to the station. This took us directly to the park. Having been in the museum / heritage business I am always judgmental when it comes to such attractions but I have to record that the $20 (which included a monorail ride around the park) admission price was well worth it. Jurong Bird Park is a tastefully and thoughtfully operated attraction and conservation values are skillfully integrated into their displays. Be warned though, even with strategically placed fans, on a hot day such as it was yesterday it can be quite exhausting if you choose to walk everywhere. The highlight is undoubtedly the huge Waterfall Avery (photo above) and this is also a very good place to pause on your journey through the park as it offers a shady respite from the Singapore sun. If you are visiting Singapore, or are living here and have visitors, then a visit to the Jurong Bird Park is well worth the effort and a colourful introduction to tropical flora and fauna. COPYRIGHT ROGER SMITH 2009

We did not lunch at the Park and decided to have a look around the adjacent neighbourhood to see if there were dining alternatives. A walk across the car park from the Bird Park brought us to the Reptile Park and what a sorry state of affairs this former attraction was. It had obviously closed down sometime before and was rapidly decaying in the tropical environment. Only a small prawn restaurant survives nearby with a few locals fishing for their supper ‐ yes you had to catch the prawns yourself. The Reptile Park provides a salutary lesson for all attractions; they either adapt or die. It is a lesson that no doubt the Jurong Bird Park is well aware of.

The Cold Shoulder Friday, 30 March 2007 Early last week I awoke with a shoulder that refused to work and when I attempted to use it, proved to be extremely painful. I was apparently one of the 'lucky 2%' 0f the population that succumbs to an ailment called Frozen Shoulder or, if you want its medical title, adhesive capsulitis. Until you lose the use of a limb you are never truly aware just how debilitating it can be. Everyday tasks become mountains to climb and sleep becomes elusive. I was never even aware such a condition existed but I have subsequently discovered scores of web sites dedicated to the subject. I did however have one ace up my sleeve, in the form of a great physician, Dr. Toh who is based in the Camden Medical Centre (photo right). Toh Keng Kiat is one of the old school of doctors who actually listens to his patients and has the experience to provide sound advice. He is also very keen on using new technologies where they might assist and he hooked me up to the latest Japanese machine. For those interested its full title is: ASIAS, AH 300 series, Encoded Electronics Therapy Equipment (see image below) This amazing device provides pain relief and heals tissues etc. down to the basic DNA building blocks. It should not be confused with the much simpler electropulse massagers which simulate acupuncture techniques Frozen shoulder can take months to correct but three sessions with the electropulse device have seen me regain more than 80% mobility in the past few days. The fact that I can type this blog entry is largely down to him. COPYRIGHT ROGER SMITH 2009

In our conversations I also became aware that is a former Singaporean MP and he provides some interesting perspectives on the challenges that lie ahead for Singapore. Dr Toh is a visiting consultant haematologist at Singapore General Hospital and also crosses the Causeway to tutor medical students at Monash's Johore Bahru campus in Malaysia. All in all a busy man and I consider myself lucky to be under his care. Today is my first working Saturday in Singapore. The library is open from midday until 7pm each Saturday during the semester and we take it in turns on the management roster. It would be fair to record that we have not exactly been inundated with students thus far! In fact we are lucky if one appears at all. With seven hours to kill I have taken the opportunity to update the Image Gallery I am building for the university. Our large screen television in the Library has also provided me with coverage of Aussie Rules and NRL games so time passed relatively easily. I can now look forward to the Monday off and shopping in Singapore without the accompanying weekend crowds.

The Hired Help and Samsui Chicken Friday, 6 April 2007 I start early. My aim is to be in the office by 7:20 am each morning. I am not however the first to get there as the cleaning staff commence their duties a good quarter hour before my arrival. The cleaners are in the main a mix of Malays and Indians as well as a smattering of Chinese "Aunties" seeking extra retirement income. What I didn't fully appreciate was that many of our cleaning staff don't actually live in Singapore ‐ they reside in Malaysia's state of Johore Bahru and come across The Causeway each day to take up their employment. Their day starts at 7 am and doesn't finish until 7 pm (Monday to Saturday) and they then face a two hour bus journey back across the border. I questioned one of the younger Indian cleaners and discovered that she rises at 3:20 am each morning to ensure she catches her bus. She doesn't usually get back to her home until about 9:30 pm so by my calculation, after completing a full day’s work, she gets about five and a half hours sleep before the cycle starts all over again. It is therefore little wonder that there is a high staff turnover and our cleaning contractors are recruiting replacements all the time. But why is it necessary for 25,000 Malaysians to cross the border to fulfill these necessary services? The short answer is that few, if any, Singaporeans wish to undertake these menial tasks anymore. The same applies to other service areas and the construction industry. To overcome this shortage Singapore has an active policy of fostering 'foreign manpower'. These are temporary residents and in the year 2000 government statistics indicated that 29% of the workforce were in this category. Not to be forgotten are the 160,000 domestic helpers, mainly comprised of women from the Philippines and Indonesia, although there are also a significant number from the Indian sub continent. The former gather each Sunday at Lucky Plaza and spill out onto the footpaths of Orchard Road in gregarious huddles. COPYRIGHT ROGER SMITH 2009

Today's food recommendation is The Soup Restaurant in Basement Two of Centrepoint on Orchard Road. The set lunch for two is $38++ and has a wonderful home‐cooked quality to it with traditional (they term it heritage) cuisine of the Cantonese variety. Despite the name, soup it just one hearty component of the menu and their Samsui Ginger Chicken is excellent. Their sliced cod dish is equally yummy!

……Maketh The Man Sunday, 15 April 2007 I can't remember when I had my first meal of Phoenix Claws but I can certainly recall my first Yum Cha meal in Hong Kong. On that occasion in a multi‐floored restaurant, bemused by the loud vitality of the eatery and not being able to read or understand a word of Cantonese, I summoned up courage and pointed at the first wicker basket atop a passing trolley. With a deft movement my card was marked both literally and figuratively. A steaming container of Duck's web (feet) was placed in front of me. No other part of the duck was attached to the feet ‐ it was just the webs with no strings (should that be tendons?) attached. While not the easiest of introductions to Yum Cha I record with pride that I did at least attempt to eat these items. Which brings me to Phoenix Claws ‐ a euphemism for chickens' feet. Evidently, the only real trick to preparing these is that you trim off the toenails first! I discovered early on that I rather enjoyed this delicacy but one has to choose the company in which to devour these glutinous morsels. A former colleague who once shared a table turned a decided shade of green when he saw me devouring the contents of the small bamboo basket and never again accepted my invitation to Yum Cha. Over the years I have learnt the staccato skill of spitting the left over bones with unnerving accuracy into my rice bowl. This is the Chinese way. My English mother would have been mortified by such a practice as she drummed into her children the elements of refined English table manners and the removal of bones was neither to be seen nor heard. It is interesting how living in a different culture brings with it different customs and manners. I am sure that I unintentionally offend through my lack of knowledge in such fundamentals as chopstick etiquette . The reckless placement of these eating utensils is thought to bring bad luck to your fellow diners. I can assure you that learning to expel a stream of chicken bones into a tiny receptacle can be equally distressing for those who witness it.

Out With The Old Sunday, 15 April 2007 It goes in cycles ‐ one item of property 'gives up the ghost' and then a second, a third and so on. So it has been here in Singapore. Fortuitously this city is a shopping mecca and finding a replacement for any item is relatively easily and usually the latest model is featured. A fortnight ago I adopted my wife's sensible suggestion (one that she had made many times before!) that I jettison my heavy attaché case and buy something lighter. I am now the proud owner of a soft leather case of Japanese design which is about half the weight of the former one. Seven days ago my watch, which caused sane jewellers to shake their heads in dismay every time I had it serviced, took on an even more decrepit look. Its winder threatened to detach from the inner mechanism. I opted for a new Seiko as a replacement as value for money they bettered the Swiss versions. Most other new models on offer were so chunky that every elevation of the wrist reminded one of lifting weights in the gym. I had also promised myself the replacement of a further piece of technology ‐ my IPAQ (PDA if you will). This replacement came sooner than expected as my mobile phone, which I had brought over from New Zealand, developed a fault. Rather than buy a new phone and a new IPAQ, I seized the moment to buy a device that combined both. My new "brain in a box" is an IPAQ rw6828 Multimedia Messenger (see image). It does just about everything except cook crumpets. About a year from now I hope to have discovered all of its functionality and features. COPYRIGHT ROGER SMITH 2009

Let’s Hear It For St. Luke Sunday, 22 April 2007 I was not aware until coming to live in Singapore that the apostle was also the patron saint of prickly heat. At least I suspect this is the case, as his name adorns a well known brand of powder designed to combat the sweatiness of the tropics. The title also suggests a British pedigree but this powder which was formulated sixty years ago is actually produced in Thailand. It is marketed in other parts of the world under the Snake brand. St Luke’s Prickly Heat powder has one disturbing problem ‐ it is mentholated. An overly liberal application to the nether regions can leave the unfortunate crying out to their maker. Perhaps this is where the true religious association comes from? Which brings me none too subtly to the point that we have been living in Singapore for more than six months and our bodies are acclimatising. Two weeks ago we stopped using the air‐conditioning throughout the night in our bedroom and now sleep with a fan in perpetual motion instead. This is not to say that either of us actually enjoy the very draining effect of the humidity, especially from mid‐ morning to mid‐afternoon. However a quick glance at the minimum temperatures on the internet reminded me of just how miserably cold a New Zealand winter can be, so I am not complaining too much. A case in point: Today we took buses to the Singapore Botanical Gardens leaving as the sun reached its zenith. There was not a breath of wind when we got there and apart for one or two of the lunatic fringe who were out jogging (yes, jogging!) in the noon day sun, everyone else was seeking the shade. The shade seekers included clusters of Filipinas who, released from their maids' duties on a Sunday afternoon, congregate for picnics in the Gardens. COPYRIGHT ROGER SMITH 2009

It was Sir Stamford Raffles who established the first Botanical Gardens in Singapore in 1822. His interest was largely economic as he wanted to establish the viability of crops such as cocoa and nutmeg. The existing gardens were established on their current site a little later, in 1859. I vividly recall my first visit to the Singapore Botanic gardens in the early 1980's as I was cornered by a troupe of monkeys, baring their teeth and demanding to be fed. These Macaques became such a problem that they were removed (exterminated?) and no longer harass visitors. They remain a problem in other parts of Singapore, especially where housing estates border wildlife reserves. The highlight of our trip today was the National Orchid Garden, a feature in its own right within the boundaries of the Botanic Gardens. A $5 entry fee gets you into this garden. The orchid is the national flower of Singapore and it is easy to see why. There are some examples in this article.

Cruising In Calcutta Saturday, 28 April 2007 Five days ago our Library staff were invited to lunch in the Tiffin Room at Raffles. I had been to Raffles once before, but only to wander around and visit the coffee shop. This time we were treated to the full splendour of the grand old building. The Tiffin Room features Indian cuisine from the days of the Raj in the form of the Tiffin Curry Buffet. It's about now that I have to confess that Indian food is not high on my preferred list. Apart from the fact that it is often very rich and full of gee, there is another reason to my losing any real interest in Indian food ‐ namely a visit to India a few years ago. As I have recounted this story verbally many times since, I thought it wise to record the detail for posterity! I was once an executive member of the International Council of Museums Marketing and Public Relations Committee (ICOM MPR). It was our habit to meet in various far flung parts of the globe on an annual basis and one year we received and accepted an invitation to hold our meeting in Calcutta, or Kolkata as it is now known. When the British decided to move their capital to Delhi in 1911 it was all down‐hill for the infrastructure of Calcutta from that historic moment. Indeed, I have it on good authority that town planners from as far afield as New York come to Calcutta to study what happens to a major city after 80 years of amenity neglect. It was into this environment that our happy band of museologists went. Things did not start well as the deposit money for the hotel, sent in advance via the local Museum for payment, had "disappeared". It miraculously re‐appeared after much ranting and threatening from our then President. It got progressively worse after the third power cut in the hotel, experiencing the theft of some personal items from my conference bag and a minor traffic accident in a taxi. In the latter case, both the drivers of our vehicle and the car that we 'rear‐ended', had adopted the practice of driving around the streets at night without their lights to save their battery power. They only flicked the beam on when they saw another vehicle approaching on their side of the road. COPYRIGHT ROGER SMITH 2009

The 'highlight' of our weeks stay was to be the Hooghly Dinner Cruise, hosted by a senior member of the Indian Museum profession. The date duly arrived and we traipsed on board the vessel. There was a near mutiny when it was discovered that our sailing date was a "dry day" in Bengal and so no liquor could be served ‐ not even a glass of wine with the meal. The River Hooghly at dusk has all the charm of a slow moving cess pit. As we surged into the current the factories on either bank belched out purple and green smoke reminiscent of a scene from Dante's Inferno. The dinner was a buffet and pre‐prepared. It was presented in covered silver tureens with small spluttering candles underneath that were doing their best to keep the food warm. A light wind got up cooling both the ambient temperature and the food we were about to consume. The light wind became a small zephyr and the candles went out. The locals were inordinately proud of a new structure called the New Hoorah Bridge and the structure was pointed out to us many times and from many different angles. This should not be confused with the Old Hoorah Bridge of which more will shortly be said. The New Bridge can be seen in the top photograph and looks more aesthetic in the photo than it did in the flesh. I made the mistake of looking over the edge of the second deck where we were seated, down to the deck below. There were three beaming waiters looking up at me as they squatted below with our evening's silver cutlery strewn on the wooden planking (picture right). This was to be the very silverware we were expected to use for the buffet and one look at the dirty deck convinced me that I had better polish my own provided set with a clean tissue and bottled water before partaking of any food. The air got thicker and people reached for their handkerchiefs (see photo of my colleague Barbara below with masked face). Up ahead the atmosphere was really hazy and we could just discern the outlines of what appeared to be a bridge, its outline almost obscured by a heavy mist. COPYRIGHT ROGER SMITH 2009

We were approaching the Old Howrah Bridge which is reputed to be the busiest in the world with more than 100,000 vehicles and 1 million pedestrians crossing it each day. This figure does not include the livestock that accompanies them. Even in 1946 (shortly after it opened) there were 3,000 cattle moving across it. The mist we had observed was in fact a steady stream of dirt and debris from the bridge and we were about to sail under it. With immaculate timing and just as we passed under the first span, the waiters removed the protective silver covers of the buffet service. All aboard lost their appetite at that point in time, which was hardly surprising. Travel in India is to be experienced but is seldom enjoyed in its entirety. Endless meals of chick peas, dhal and undercooked chicken took their toll on even the strongest constitution and after a week in Calcutta we were ready to leave and see other parts of the country. You will understand then that I brought to the Indian Curry Buffet at Raffles a certain prejudice, which I am pleased to record was ill ‐founded. The food was delicious and to a standard that would I am sure have pleased the likes of former guests, Kipling and Somerset Maugham.