Determination & Resourcefulness - Gardens by the Bay

It seems strange to give such a title to a little spot of a garden on a spit of reclaimed land, but that was the impression in our heads as we walked away from the Gardens by the Bay near the Marina Reservoir.

Nai Nai has very kindly agreed to act as back-up during this crazy month of almost back-to-back traveling between YL and I, and is spending a few weeks with us in Singapore.  In our usual style, we dragged her out of the comfort of the apartment to traverse the island, and yesterday the Gardens by the Bay was on our agenda.

The iconic Supertree Groves at the entrance.

The inevitable reaction of anyone stepping into the Cloud Forest dome for the first time was one of gob-smacked awe.  A 35-metre tall "mountain" overgrown with dense, lush plants from tropical cloud forests rests majestically in the middle; a cascading waterfall and the (air-conditioned) cool dampness inside the steel and glass structure lent a esoteric futuristic vibe to whole place.  

We don't know much about plants, but it was fascinating to see the unusual colours and shapes even for plant dummies like us.  Notice the "periuk kera" (literally monkey's pot in Malay; known as pitcher plant in English) plant just above the boys, and the shiny white orchids above them.

And these flowers remind me of little forest fairies

A whimsical touch - miniature hot air balloons

Walkways extended out above the "mountain" allowed visitors to admire the dome in its full glory.  There were species from cloud forests around the world, flourishing strong and bold, in this man-made environment.

The Marina Bay Sands Resort seen from inside the dome

There are abundant signs on the exhibits, audio guides to excite nature and plant lovers, and enough interactive displays to keep the kids entertained.  But it still make for a very interesting day out without any of the educational bits.  

Unable to cover the entire place in the morning, we returned in the evening to visit the Flower Dome.

More hot-air balloons

YL was in love with the baobab trees transported from Africa.

We are the boring ones in the family. 

We were there at night, and while the lighting created a soft ambiance, we can only agree that it would simply be breath-taking in the daytime when the riotous colours are allowed to do its magic... The displays are so beautiful and healthy we reached out often to touch them to make sure they are real.  

So we walked away, fully impressed - despite our natural cynicism - by what determination & resourcefulness can achieve, fully exemplified by this little red dot of an island.  Happy Birthday, Singapore.

The Land Beneath the Winds

No, it's not a corny Bette Midler song.

It refers to Sabah, one of two East Malaysian states situated on the Borneo island, separated from the peninsular West Malaysia by the South China Seas.  It is home to Malaysia's highest peak, Mount Kinabalu (4,095 metres), and the Kinabalu National Park at its foothills is a World Heritage Site, due to the richness of its plant diversity and unique geological conditions.

It's that nipple in the horizon... 

(seen from our Air Asia flight, just minutes before landing)

We did not spend any time near any of that during our short trip over the Vesak Day weekend.  There is much to see and do in this part of Malaysia that seems so familiar, and just yet so different.  We will return another time to explore more.  

It is regrettable that us Peninsularians (I made that word up) know so little of our compatriots over there.  Or maybe it is just me?  I only recall vague notions of the main ethnic groups - Kadazan-Duzun, Bajau, Murut - and that those who maintained their traditional lifestyles in the jungles live in rumah panjang (longhouses), and some of them are were headhunters.  

So with the best intentions to learn more about my fellow Malaysians, I signed the family up for a visit to a cultural village near Kota Kinabalu, despite YL's protests that we should just have a non-productive relaxing holiday.

The Mari Mari Cultural Village showcases the lifestyles of the five largest ethnic groups in Sabah - Dusun, Lundayeh, Rungus, Bajau, Murut.  The Bajau are seafarers, so their houses were built high up on stilts.  In this example of a typical Bajau dwelling, a wedding is in the cards for the daughter of the family, as the long colourful cloth hung along the verandah indicates.  

Speaking of daughters, it was interesting to see the importance every tribe placed in the protection of their daughters.  In every dwelling, except the Murut's, the girls in the family slept high up on an alcove.  The ladders are withdrawn every night after the girls are in their rooms, to prevent unwelcomed visitors in the middle of the night.  The boys slept on a low platform on the other side of the hut, while parents typically sleep underneath the girls' alcove.  

I am guessing the Murut people did not need to do this as they are known ferocious headhunters, their collection of skulls prominently displayed at the entrance to their villages and in homes.

 Don't mess with them or you will be given a place of honour in their home.

After being "welcomed" with an ambush of the Murut warriors as we neared the entrance of the Murut village, we were questioned as to the reason of our visit in a tongue I did not recognise (each tribe have their own language, quite distinct from the Malay language).  After they were satisfied that we were not there to steal their chickens or women, we were allowed in.

They even allowed YL a go at poisoned darts.  If I were them, I'd be afraid of this benign-looking man who hit the coconut 10 metres away at first try.  He is definitely after the chickens, this one.

Poisoned darts and skulls aside, we were also shown many harmless day-to-day practices of the tribes, such as the making of rice-wine, snacks, ropes, vests, cooking methods, and games they played.  

Rice wine

Roti jala, simply made from eggs, flour and sugar.  I like!

Typical meal cooked in bamboo.  Ours had potatoes and chicken flavoured with salt, basil and ginger.  I like!

The guide explaining the clothing of the Rungus ladies indicated their marital statuses.  Sleeves down - single.  Sleeves up - taken.

Here is the longhouse of the Rungus tribe.  Some 20 families live in a typical one.  On the left are the private rooms for the parents and girls.  On the right is a low platform used as sleeping quarters at night by the boys. 

Each room is occupied by one family. 

Longhouse of the Rungus tribe

Somewhere in the middle of a Murut longhouse is a lowered platform made from bamboo. It is held in place loosely by, well, more bamboo, giving it a bounce.  Think of it as a trampoline.  

The men take turns at night to jump on this platform to try to hit the object hung high up on the ceiling. 

I was most impressed by the fact that the whole place was ran by young people.  They were performing, guiding, and sharing their culture, keeping it alive and making it come alive.  Syabas!

The aboriginal boy-band.  They were good.  And good-looking.  I was mesmerised. (Don't tell the chicken thief with the poisonous darts)

Tribal dancers flexing their muscles.  

Speaking of young people, the young Dusun gentleman who drove us to the village told us some fantastical stories about black magic and its modern day applications (think the recent Sulu invasion in Sabah).  He was a young educated man, soft-spoken and well-mannered.  He assured us that black magic is alive and well in Borneo, obliging my fast and furious questions with stories and personal anecdotes about orang jin (genies working for men in exchange for food), penanggal (disembodied flying heads surviving on the blood of pregnant women), curses, witch doctors, and the impenetrable bodies of the Sulu soldiers who recently tried to claim Sabah for their own (the Malaysian army apparently had to recruit soldiers from Sarawak who are skilled in the dark arts to fight them when their bullets and bombs had no effect.  Of course you won't find any of these in the official media.  Ask me for more juicy details).  

I found all this fascinating, just like my kids did...

OK, so the kids did not thank me profusely after the outing, but they did enjoy our stay at the resort, where they mucked around on the beach (a REAL one....not like the ones here in Singapore), enjoying the sunset,

oogled at two of the four orang utan being rehabilitated by the resort's nature reserve,

became ranger for the day, preparing food for the orang utan, and feeding other animals, 

but mostly just demanding to be brought to the Kids' Club

to see Thomas & Friends.

Sigh, so much for education.  But they will thank me and the dart-shooter one day.

Animal-Themed Mother's Day

Ju's school organised a mother-and-child outing to a small children's farm as its Mother's Day celebration.  I think it is a great idea; better than getting the kids to make crafts or cards, which, as sweet and poignant as they are, get forgotten in a corner of a cupboard after a few years.  This way forces all the busy mothers (i.e. me) to block some quality bonding time with their children.  Do something together and create memories.  Better than any cards or crafts any time, if you ask me. 

This being Singapore, the "farm" is a stretch of imagination, and can be better described as a typical Malaysian kampung backyard.  (Sorry, my dear Singaporean friends.  I love all of you, but I really can't help the jabs)  Anyways, it was all good fun for the children.  The farm has a shallow sinuous trench filled with water and tiny fishes, where children are allowed to "fish" using plastic nets and buckets.  Ju & I were not a very successful team; we caught one miserable fish each.  (It is not as easy as it sounds!) 

Longkang (drain in Malay) fishing

Then the kids were given animal food pellets where they can feed the animals - rabbits, ducks, goose, chickens, turtles, and fishes.  They wrapped up the afternoon with a raucous "animal show" where they introduced several varieties of rodents - gerbils, mice and the like - and allowed the children to pet them. 

These koi fishes were seriously aggressive, wriggling madly against each other in the scrimmage for food, almost threatening to jump out of the pool.  I stood far behind the kids.  

We continued the animal theme the next day by visiting the Singapore Zoo.  And once again, like all choice-deprived families in this island state, we joined as members.  No no no, I'm kidding, OK?  There are a lot of interesting activities and places that have cropped up here in the past couple of years.  I am just not tuned-in enough to know where and what.  

A tapir!! My first time seeing a real one...

The stars of the zoo are the orang utan.  The granddaddy of them all was Ah Meng (actually a female), who was the zoo's mascot for many years until she passed away in 2008.

This one looked like she was breastfeeding.

Rhinoceros

Feeding the giraffes carrots and potatoes.  Look at that tongue!

The infamous white tigers, through no fault of their own.  In 2008, they mauled and snapped the neck of a zoo cleaner who jumped into the enclosure in full view of hundreds of visitors.  The man was deemed to be suicidal.  

I think not many will disagree that the Singapore Zoo is the best tourist attraction/theme park in Southeast Asia.  I have yet to visit the Universal Studios in Sentosa, but I think the zoo should win based on originality, on educational terms and on relevance to the local environment.  For example, do you know the difference between a leopard and a jaguar?  (A: the shape of spots)  Do you know how komodo dragons mate?  The story of how their baby komodo dragon was conceived was entertaining stuff.  

I also applaud the zoo for giving meaningful employment all the passionate and budding zoologists in the region.  It is basically run by a colourful mix of Malaysians, Indonesians, Burmese, Singaporeans of course, and most notably the Filipinos, who animate some of the shows.  

And oh yah, I was a little worried that Soph has lost her zest for discovery and learning, to be replaced by rote memorisation and syllabus regurgitation, but today she proved to me that it has not been completely snuffed.  We were at the penguins enclosure, when I wondered aloud how penguins can survive in this tropical heat that even humans born and bred in the tropics (i.e. me) surrender to it.  She nonchalantly corrected me that those are Galapagos penguins, not Arctic penguins, so no problemo.  Ooohhh....

A new park has opened next door, the River Safari, where the two pandas borrowed from China, Kai Kai and Jia Jia, are hosted.  (yeah the link is so obvious, right?  Pandas?  Send them over to that muddy humid river over there!)  By the way, China never gives away their pandas; if you are nice to them, they lend a pair to you for a couple of years.  That's the extent of their goodwill; take it or leave it.  We will make the River Safari the next stop on our weekend circuit, and keep you posted if it is worth a visit...

Happy Mother's Day!

A bad break-up

Don't worry, YL is still safe :)

After the shameful shenanigans that resulted in a stolen election last week, I was absolutely devastated.  I languished in a roller-coaster of emotions - from anger to anguish, from crying uncontrollably to spouting F-words every other sentence.  It was like someone trying to get over a terrible break-up.  The world came to an end, and I was fumbling in the dark looking for meaning in life but every road I took brought me to a dead-end.  I looked for comfort in fellow Malaysians at work and at home, but none seemed as plagued as I.  YL told me he was affected, but he seemed pretty normal to me, his burgeoning list of patients probably a good source of distraction.  In hindsight, it was a good thing that only one of us was an emotional wreck, because what was to be done if we were both out-of-order?  The kids would be confused why Baba and Mama are angry and sad, but not at each other.  :)

Erstwhile innocuous words started to take an evil form and triggered a serious vile loathing in me: words like "phantom" (OK, this is not a good example), "lights", "bus", "black".  I could not concentrate on work; I was on Facebook 20 times day commenting, sharing, liking.  I moaned to friends who cared to listen Whatsapp; I trawled Facebook for feel-good positive messages to help me see the light at the end of the endless tunnel and downward spiral.  I subjected innocent non-Malaysian colleagues to a diatribe on Malaysian politics.  <sounds of wide-eyed, fear-filled colleagues scattering in the background>

I wore black every day for the whole week (that's the extent of the black stuff I have in my wardrobe).  I was probably the only one silly enough to do that, but it was a state of mind.  Mourning for my country.

Now the week is over, and I am happy to report that I have slowly but surely recovered from this nasty business.  I continue to mourn for many things - fellow Malaysians abroad within arm's reach of a foreign passport finally picking up that option; fellow Malaysians who feel a heightened sense of shame when calling oneself Malaysian; fellow Malaysians losing momentum in this fight for change; fellow Malaysians being influenced by all the hate messages in the mainstream media, etc.  

But the stories, messages and pictures I see on FB tell me not to worry.  Stories like the one where two Malay chaps defended a Chinese when another Malay called him derogatory names.  Messages from compatriots dissecting the situation rationally and pledging to continue the support for fairness and integrity.  Pictures of 100,000 Malaysians of every colour cramming the stadium in Kelana Jaya in a show of solidarity to reject the dirty tactics.  With these positive reinforcements, I press on with hope, still proud of my country and its people.    

Never change, anak bangsa Malaysia! 

Black

Am in black today.  But my heart is bleeding red.  Like everyone back home. 

If they played fair, I would have congratulated them.  Alas, it was the blackest, dirtiest elections ever in the history of the nation.  Blatant, arrogant dirty play.

But let's celebrate the small victories.  The opposition won more parliamentary seats compared to 2008.  They made inroads into Johor, a bastion of the ruling coalition.  The people are more determined than ever. 

We are young, we will continue the fight.

All for 2 slips of paper

Up at 3:45am.  Drove 400km there and back (thanks, bro!).  All for 2 slips of ballot papers.

It was worth it.

I have been very quiet on the blog because work has consumed all of my waking hours, of which there too many, what with the demands of the kids and husband.  But all the whirr around me here in Singapore are drowned out by the fervour over the elections in the country that I am still proud to call mine.  Tempted several times to blog about my thoughts, but deterred every time by the lack of words to describe this heavy, leaden feeling of gloom threaded with hope, I do not think I can say any more or any better than what my compatriots all over the world have put out on various online media.  With every new revelation of tricks, schemes, and shameful ruling from the Elections Commission, the weight in my heart grows.  

Despite that, the bond amongst ordinary Malaysians continue to grow across ethnic lines.  I saw it during the two Bersih rallies.  I see it again now.  Malaysians are grown up now; we have opened our eyes.  It finally dawned on us that "the other race" is no longer the enemy.  We are in the same boat together.  We are ready for change.  

On Saturday morning, barely caught my two winks, we roused at 3:45am, picked up a fellow Malaysian, and headed for KL, hoping to beat the traffic and to avoid troubles with the authorities, legal or otherwise.  It was a smooth ride, barring a one-hour traffic jam due to an overturned and charred vegetable truck.  We spent the rest of the day with family, trading election news, warning each other about being absolutely compliant with voting procedures and reminding each other to be vigilant of suspicious activities on that day.  

Sunday morning, again with hardly two winks in my reserve, I left KL for Ipoh at 4am, reaching my hometown just after 6am.  It was another smooth drive, with Kau Fu Zai (my dearest brother who gamely drove 400km to escort me to vote) updated me with more election news and politics.  Nourished by Ipoh dim sum and tea (dim sum restaurants open at 5am in Ipoh...we are purists in this aspect), we headed to the voting center which was a primary school, and arrived just after 7am.  We were one of the earliest ones, and queried the mostly Malay staff about the procedures.  They were a little flustered with the setup of everything, but were pleasant and polite.  A good start so far.

I joined the queue behind a young Chinese lady, and started chatting with her and the young Chinese man behind me.  (I belong to a constituency with a predominantly Chinese population)  The young man was going to take up a shift at noon as an observer at another voting station, and gave us tips about the process.  We reminded each other again to check the ballot slips in the presence of the third clerk to avoid any risk of having our ballots thrown out as spoilt votes.  

We also started chatting with the elderly rotund Indian policeman who was watching over our voting station.  We asked if he had voted (yes, on Tuesday - 5 days earlier!), whether the setup in the classroom was ideal and confidential (yes, just cover what you are doing with your butt!), where was the best place to place the queue (over there, but sorry for the sun), etc.  At some point in the exchange, he said with a warm smile, "we serve the public".  At 8 am sharp, he put on his cap, brushed off the wrinkles in his uniform, stood up, and said in a serious tone, "OK, we go slow and steady."  To which the young man behind me chirped, "...slow and steady wins the race."  Smiles all around.  

When it was my turn, I entered the classroom and greeted the Malay clerk in Bahasa Melayu, which was returned with equal sincerity.  Identity card checked, I proceeded to have my left index finger painted with indelible ink (indelible my foot!), and while doing so, overheard the young Malay lady who seem to be the head of that station telling the third clerk not to allow the voters to unfold the empty ballot slips at the registration counter as it will hold up the queue.  I told her in a soft voice that I *would* like to check the ballot slip before I take it with me to the voting booth.  She reconsidered, and said, OK let them check.  Hands shaking now but grateful, I opened up the ballot slips with only my right hand to avoid smudging it with my left, and scrutinised every printed corner of the pink and blue slips.  Satisfied, I gamboled over to the booth, and willed my brain to absorb and digest the symbols carefully.  ("OK, now this is the scale and this is the rocket.  Sure ah.  Rocket is here and scale is there ah")  Finally, hands shaking, I put pen to paper once for the state seat, and then a second time for the parliament seat.  Folding them up again, I walked over to the ballot boxes and dropped them in, along with all my hopes for a fair and clean election.  

Brother and I left immediately after that for the drive back to KL.  Traffic was normal on the roads.  But something in the air was different.  It smells of ... unity.  And change.  It is not whether it is the scale or the rocket.  We just want our leaders to know that we choose who gets to lead.  

Ethnicity is mentioned several times in this post, because it has been used in Malaysian politics and society since her colonial days.  Our past leaders drew these lines loudly and boldly.  Divide and conquer.  It is important for you to know that what is happening now is blurring these lines.  We are no longer Malay, Chinese, Indian, Eurasian, Kadazan, Bajau, or Dusun.  We are Malaysians.   

No matter what the results of the elections are, I pray with the ardour that only a desperate, lovesick citizen can muster, that we will remember to keep up this spirit - united we stand, divided we fall.  

Kusu Island

After our Friday outing to Legoland during the Easter long weekend, we crawled into our dark cool bedrooms and slept through Saturday.  The next day, we pried open our groggy eyes and decided to venture out again, this time out to the sea, at YL's behest.  

Many of Singapore 60+ islands are nothing more than bits & pieces of rocks, but there are are handful bigger ones worth a jaunt.  A half-hour ferry ride takes you to St. John's Island and Kusu Island, where one can picnic and take a dip in the sea.