Chinatown, Singapore. Needless to say, it was sardine-packed full of people. But I don’t believe I’ve gone down to S’pore’s Chinatown during CNY before, so it’s an experience. They sell the traditional Chinese New Year goodies, cultural arts and crafts, and many random things like special anti-bacterial socks (the stall attracted quite a crowd), Power Showers (showerheads), and some imports, mostly candies and sweets, from Japan, Taiwan and Europe.

Stalls line the streets. I don’t think the shophouses’ windows were specially painted for this occasion though, matching as they are.

Everything’s red - this stall must be oozing with good luck

It never does harm to bargain.

Safekeep your pennies in these blue-eyed red-nosed golden-year-of-the-rat piggy banks!

Photos :: Chinatown CNY night markets

Since I like to hop all over the place, I thought that it’ll be nice if there was a plugin that would link the IP to the country and display a little flag, just so that there was an icon showing where I made the post from. I found this, and other similar ones, but all of them deal with comments and comment authors only (have a try - post a comment, or click on an old post with comments to check it out). I’ve tried but I haven’t managed to find one for posts and post authors; I’m not sure if WordPress logs the author’s IP?

I thought it goes that the less active a blog is, the less readers it’ll have. So I wonder why it is that visitorship has rocketed despite there not having been a single new post in almost two weeks. Are readers that curious about what’s been happening in my life? Voyeurs, the whole lot of you! Move along now, nothing to see here.

I made a couple of mental notes of a few memorable bloggable encounters throughout the week but sitting here now, I can’t recall what they were about exactly. Turns out they aren’t *that* memorable after all.

The condo block next to ours is now being demolished. Bit by painstaking and thundering bit. The entire facade has been enveloped by a mesh netting, and backhoes have found their way to the rubble on top - some 20 storeys high. Early every morning, I’d be rudely awakened by these machines doing their work, the concrete slabs and glass pieces they’ve dredged tumbling all the way to the ground, hitting against the steel scaffolding that surrounds the building, just under the mesh. They create a disharmonious melody of booming, banging, screeching and tinkling sounds, joined in by the bass death-drumming of a nearby thumper.

It is both unfortunate and inconvenient that that building is less than a hundred metres away. Too much dust forces me to keep my windows closed at all times. Once when I opened a tiny slit just to let some stale air out and fresh air in, the breeze brought in some dust particles and I was sent diving into a box of tissues for the entire day and night.

What a most useful invention, tissue is. My allergies have been assaulting my nose and my sinus is having the hardest time of it. I don’t know what I’ll do without tissue. Thank goodness for tissue.

I saw an ad on a cab - it was a picture of a rainforest and a painting of a hornbill that caught my eye. I read the caption - Visit Malaysia, it screamed, followed by a smaller Tourism Malaysia. And the website? ineedabreak.com.sg

Oh, bribery of briberies. More blisters and callouses on toes, and tense calves. Dare I admit that I have had my brows shaped too? Just very, very slightly mind you, but still, the horror of my face being molested, powered, blushed, pinked-up! On not one but two occasions, too. Playing mommy’s doll.

In a more than equal return, I was allowed to acquire a Nikkor 50mm f/1.8 prime lens, the Nikon R1 close-up speedlight system, and I’m still contemplating that juicy Nikkor 17-55mm f/2.8 which sits so rightfully at home in a professional’s kitbag (frightfully, too, considering its pricey tag). *smacks lips* Sigh sigh sigh, what to do, what to do? To get or not to get?

I love the sharpness and speed of that 50mm. My first time toying experimenting around with an AF f/1.8, I fell in love with it. For low-light photography and portraits, it does wonders. People might have thought me weird though, when I had to stand meeetres away when taking full-body shots of them. Kept swapping that for the 18-200mm VR and vice versa every few minutes. I think I blinded a lot of people with the flashgun that day.

The backcover of this first book in the chronicles describes Dune as a ‘stunning blend of adventure and mysticism, environmentalism and politics‘, in what is ‘undoubtedly the grandest epic in science fiction.’

I fully agree with this claim, although I like Star Wars too (more for its vast alien universe and action, less for its black-and-white, good-and-evil, Jedi-vs-Sith morality). George Lucas himself did once say that it was Dune which inspired Star Wars. And Dune is much, much more sophisticated and draws more parallels to the real world. Ecology, religion, politics, philosophy, and lots of action and plot twists - it’s everything I could have asked for in a book. All my interests… all in one package!

The Fremen were supreme in that quality the ancients called “spannungsbogen” - which is the self-imposed delay between desire for a thing and the act of reaching out to grasp that thing.

“To the working planetologist [ecologist], his most important tool is human beings,” his father said. “You must first cultivate ecological literacy among the people.”

Deep in the human unconscious is a pervasive need for a logical universe that makes sense. But the real universe is always one step beyond logic.

“You must gauge the approaching maker carefully,” Stilgar had explained. “You must stand close enough that you can mount it as it passes, yet not so close that it engulfs you.”

When law and duty are one, united by religion, you never become fully conscious, fully aware of yourself. You are always a little less than an individual.

Beyond a critical point within a finite space, freedom diminishes as numbers increase. This is true of humans in the finite space of a planetary ecosystem as it is of gas molecules in a sealed flask. The human question is not how many can possibly survive within the ecosystem, but what kind of existence is possible for those who do survive.

“There’s an internally recognized beauty of motion and balance on any man-healthy planet,” Kynes said. “You see this beauty a dynamic stabilizing effect essential to all life. Its aim is simple: to maintain and produce coordinated patterns of greater and greater diversity. Life improves the closed system’s capacity to sustain life. Life - all life - is in the service of life.”

“The thing the ecologically illiterate don’t realize about an ecosystem,” Kynes said, “is that it’s a system. A system! … A system has order, a flowing from point to point. If something dams that flow, order collapses. The untrained might miss that collapse until it was too late. That’s why the highest function of ecology is the understanding of consequences.”

Two summers ago in Singapore, I wondered aloud at the extra layers of clothing that people were wearing on the streets. These days, I see people walking about with scarves around their necks. I thought I spotted a youth with a red wool-knitted scarf, no less! When people talk about individuals ‘living in their own worlds’, I never did realise that it could refer to them having their own climes as well.

What had drawn me to Milan Kundera’s bestselling novel, unbeknownst to me when I first glanced through it in the bookshops, was its underlying existentialist nature.

Are our lives burdened by the weight of our chores and our missions, or are we burdened by life because of its very lightness, for it is afterall but a sketch, and we struggle to attach some significance to our existence? Einmal ist keinmal?

At times comical, at times tragic, at times - once too often - lusty, this is, despite its title, a heavyweight. Although only 300 pages long, it took me more than two weeks to finish this book (compared to a few days for Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy!). In its interwoven stories tracing the lives of a few entirely believable characters (including a German Shepherd), it explores some (sometimes very mature) philosophical and political themes amidst an Eastern European historical backdrop. This is not a book for everyone, but if you have the patience, you’ll definitely be rewarded.

Some excerpts:

He remained annoyed with himself until he realized that not knowing what he wanted was actually quite natural.

We can never know what to want, because, living only one life, we can neither compare it with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come.

There is no means of testing which decision is better, because there is no basis for comparison. We live everything as it comes, without warning, like an actor going on cold. And what can life be worth if the first rehearsal for life is life itself?

Our day-to-day life is bombarded with fortuities or, to be more precise, with the accidental meetings of people and events we call coincidences.

They are composed like music. Guided by his sense of beauty, an individual transforms a fortuitous occurrence int a motif, which then assumes a permanent place in the composition of an individual’s life.

Without realizing it, the individual composes his life according to the laws of beauty even in times of greatest distress.

It is wrong, then, to chide the novel for being fascinated by mysterious coincidences, but it is right to chide man for being blind to such coincidences in his daily life. For he thereby deprives his life of a dimension of beauty.

Being a woman is a fate Sabina did not choose. What we have not chosen we cannot consider either our merit or our failure. Sabina believed that she had to assume the correct attitude to her unchosen fate. To rebel against being born a woman seemed as foolish to her as to take pride in it.

… living in truth, lying neither to ourselves nor to others, was possible only away from the public: the moment someone keeps an eye on what we do, we involuntarily make allowances for that eye, and nothing we do is truthful.

Tereza kept stroking Karenin’s head, which was quietly resting in her lap, while something like the following ran through her mind: There’s no particular merit in being nice to one’s fellow man. She had to treat the other villagers decently, because otherwise she couldn’t live there. Even with Tomas, she was obliged to behave lovingly because she needed him. We can never establish with certainly what part of our relations with others is the result of our emotions - love, antipathy, charity, or malice - and what part is predetermined by the constant power play among individuals.

True human goodness, in all its purity and freedom, can come to the fore only when its recipient has no power. Mankind’s true moral test, its fundamental test (which lies deeply buried from view), consists of its attitude towards those who are at its mercy: animals. And in this respect mankind has suffered a fundamental débâcle, a débâcle so fundamental that all others stem from it.

Sometimes you make up your mind about something without knowing why, and your decision persist by the power of inertia. Every year it gets harder to change.

Here be random scribblings from my jotterbook, not necessarily in sequential order…

The fares to Japan usually cost more than flights to elsewhere, relatively speaking. I noticed that the in-flight menu had better quality paper and finishings. The meal trays too, were more aesthetically pleasing and had a Zen feel to it. The stewardesses and stewards spoke both English and Japanese. Trying to make the fares their worth?

Upon arrival in Tokyo Narita, ushers were standing by near our gate, directing passengers to the connecting flight to Los Angeles. A Causasian couple walked past, and the lady Japanese usher waved them back and told them, “Los Angeles, this way please.” To which the man replied, “No, we just came from there. We don’t want to go back!” It was said in a lighthearted manner, meant to be a teasing joke. But the poor usher was made embarrassed at her slight and kept bowing apologetically. She looked distraught, despite the couple’s attempts to assure her that “It’s perfectly alright!”

They had a new fingerprinting system at immigration control. You had to press both pointing fingers on the machines, and then it’d go ‘click’ and a snapshot of your fingerprints would be taken and show up on the control officer’s screen. It didn’t work for me. I was told to try my thumbs. Then my pointers again. Then my middle fingers. The machine was designed so that you had to fold in your other fingers other than the one being fingerprinted. So for a few seconds, I was relishing the amusing situation of having my both my middle fingers pointed directly at a figure of authority and not being reprimanded for it…

We had our Christmas dinner at a restaurant at Haneda Airport, since we were staying at the airport hotel for a night. There was still more than two hours to midnight when we walked through the airport, but already the airport staff were taking down Christmas trees and decor on shop and cafe windows. Talk about efficiency!

There are Hong Kongers everywhere in all the major cities… crowds of them. Tour buses full. Can’t avoid them. I’m not sure if it’s because we speak Cantonese ourselves and thus I am trained to pick it up when I hear it… or is it that HKgers do in fact speak in louder tones than other people?

Tokyo was hot. Over 11 °C. I was in short sleeves and with scarf wrapped around my neck, it was not uncommon to find me perspiring in the ovens of the department stores - their heaters are too much to bear! Once outdoors, I’d continue to sweat it out if I wore an additional jacket layer, so I’d have to take it off. My sis was in long sleeves, and she was complaining and wished she was in short-sleeves instead. I do not understand how the people both on the streets and inside the shops can stand it - the former dressed as people do in Hokkaido (we’re talking insulation, not fashion, of course. People in fashion-conscious Tokyo would never dress as sloppily as their northern neighbours), and the latter dressed as if they were still outdoors, keeping all their layers on. I am forced to assume that their sweat glands are rendered inactive in winter.

I love spotting humourous instances of Engrish:

On a hotel fire escape route map: ‘Robby’ was used in place of ‘lobby’.

‘Do not splash water’ on the toilet seat or it ‘may cause cause fire or trouble’.

A drawer in my hotel room was labelled ‘green tea things and glass’. The Japanese translates as ‘tea set’.

And more, only that I can’t remember them at the moment. Took pics of them with my mom’s camera, so I don’t have them with me right now.

Oh, my favourite was finding out that DSLRs can double up as flamethrowers, with some camera models capable of shooting up to 5 ‘flames per second’.

I think I’ve become immune to delays, waits, queues, and traffic jams. Living in London does that to you. And a good thing too. Why rush if there’s no point in rushing, if your impatience cannot solve anything? Enjoy the moment! Even if you’re not doing anything. Much.

We were talking with our Japanese hosts, who organised the dog-sledding and ran the pension house we stayed in during one of our stops in Hokkaido. They are both in their mid-fifties - but you would never have guessed if you hadn’t known! The wife is a F1 driver, and still races with her pals from around the country, and the husband likes to go caving and cliff-climbing in Hong Kong. They keep about a dozen sled dogs, a mixture of huskies and shiba inu-lookalikes. They had moved out of the city a long while back, now living a peaceful existence in the countryside, away from the frustrations and the stresses of a modern society. I found myself envying their lifestyle, in a certain way. They were extremely hospitable, friendly but quiet folks who admitted that they weren’t that used to having noise in the house - now, my family doesn’t exactly make a racket where we go but they did describe us as ‘うるさい’!

Such contradictory consumption behaviour. Recycling bins are everywhere. But the Japanese love elaborate packgaging and wrapping up simple items in layers and layers of quality paper or in cute, tiny little bags. Among other things that serve no practical purpose save for aesthetics. I was waiting in the car, which was parked outside a 7-eleven outlet in the outskirts of a small town in Hokkaido. A car pulled up next to ours, a lady got out, opened the backseat door, and took out a few plastic bags of what looked like trash. She walked over to the recycling bins outside 7-eleven, and poured out the rubbish which were all sorted into plastic bottles, cans and paper. Then she got back into her car and left. I looked on with keen interest.

What if snow wasn’t white? What if snow was any other colour other than white? Would snow still be as beautiful then? Or does white naturally encompass purity and beauty?

Never knew that the Japanese cranes would be this difficult to shoot. I hadn’t thought of it. Perhaps I was looking forward to just seeing these majestic, slender birds and not so much of actually photographing them. Did a couple of technical boo-boos when I was shooting them - too high an ISO, too much noise, overdid the shutter speeds, exposure was wrong. Hard to get the details out for both its black and white plumage. It was freezing out there, standing still in in the chilly winds, my bum wet from sitting on the snow when trying to shoot in level with the cranes, my fingers numbed and nearly frostbitten since I had to leave the tips exposed to operate the camera and lens. But to see them in real life and not in magazines and winning photographic entires, at long last - these red-capped cranes that can be found nowhere else in the world but in eastern Hokkaido - to watch them up close, through my lens, dancing and singing in fields and hills of white… what a feeling. I watched as one, then two, then some, then all heads turned to look as a canine (looking suspiciously like an artic fox-dog) approached the flock, and then all the cranes lifted and sailed off together in one direction, landing a few metres further to the east. There was no sense of alarm; only an aura of grace and confidence.

Why is there always that curiosity among wildlife photographers of one another’s kit? Is it that we envy what the other has (or if ours is ’superior’, then we would lay claim to boasting rights) or that we subconsiously gauge a photographer’s worth by the size of his lens - the higher quality a piece of kit, the more expensive, and the more passionate the man is about his art, or do we simply feast our eyes on these beautiful babies (the way I’d look at the lens on display in a camera shop), or are we seeking to open a gateway to interact with fellow wildlife photographers, and use talks of camera equipment (later leading on to discussions of wildlife) as an excuse to engage in a conversation? There seems to be an unspoken code that to stand in silence, to have our faces glued to our camera panels, even while the shutter is at rest, is impolite behaviour. You are expected to talk. Not that I protest. I greatly enjoy these brief periods of understanding among strangers bound by a common passion.

We flew on new year’s day. It was a short flight from Kushiro to Tokyo, and so it was a small aircraft and we flew low, just under the clouds. To observe the vast expanse of mountains, rivers, forests, meadows and towns beneath you - it is a humbling experience. When a train on a rail track appears no larger than an ant’s antennae, individual beings on earth seem so insignificant.

Back in civilization, with access to the ‘net! In Tokyo now, having spent the past few days at various towns and outposts in Hokkaido.

Some photos have been uploaded. Have a look!

Photos :: Japan Dec 2007-08

明けましておめでとう - Happy New Year to all!