An Aye for My Eyes

The gum-chewing technician declared the following results as I went through the optical tests at my third annual check-up today:

Refraction: L +25 / R 0 – no worsening at all!
Astigmatism: L 25 / R 50 – no change, so that’s good news!
Eye pressure: Great!
Optical nerves: Healthy!
Overall: Thumbs up!!

Four years and 3 months post-Lasik, and I breathe a sigh of relief that despite abusing the “windows to my soul”, they are in relatively good shape. Excellent shape, I dare say.

To ensure they stay in peak condition, I vow to stop the slave-driving and treat them with more respect. So,

1. No more Bejeweled (I shall not be tempted to out-contest those who taunt me), AND
2. No more straining in front of the laptop (my eyes shall be reminded to take frequent time-outs)

Easy, eyeballsy peasy.

Eine Nacht in Heidelberg

I waited for Renato at the entrance of Denner Hotel till a quarter past ten. I knew it, the guy has overslept! Sure enough, he answered the call with thick overtones of sleep, and then some. “Ohhh, don’t think I can join you today, must have had too much… er, orange juice last night,” he sniggered groggily. Hah, OJ indeed…

Last night, we began with a local beer at one of the restaurants (Cafe Perkeo) along Haupstrasse, the main artery of the Altstadt, a brick-laden pedestrian walkway with eateries, pubs, a church or two, boutique hotels and shops of all kinds on both sides. Sitting alfresco with the cool spring breeze teasing our hair and tickling our faces, it was a welcome breather after a week of cramming details from a product training course in Wiesbaden.

The Altstadt was teeming with folks enjoying the start of a weekend: Kids in herds enrouting to their favourite hangout, mothers with their young in tow eyeing retail displays, couples engaging in public intimacy…

And Renato and me people-gazing. Me while nursing the delish beer, he while more than sipping his, at the rate only slightly slower than a champion of a beer-chugging contest. Renato was a lot of fun though (even before the beer). We continued with dinner inside the restaurant as the weather had cooled to the point where, coming from a tropical climate and even in May, we couldn’t quite appreciate. He shared stories about work, family and life in general as a carioca.

It was past 10PM when we went for a walk. Had I been by myself, I would have retired by nightfall like a vampire. But with Renato around, well, nocturnal creatures we became. We traversed the city’s nooks and crevices, coming across crowds that spilled out of pulsating pubs, obstructing the whole street. Renato managed to grab a beer bottle to go at one of the joints. We then literally held our breaths to squeeze through scores of tankard-grasping jolly makers before reaching safety.

Safety was made up of quieter streets where we did window shopping, stopping at displays of cuckoo clocks, wind chimes, household items and semi-summer apparel. It was even more peaceful when we reached the Heiliggeistkirche at the marktplatz and stepped onto the Karl-Theodor-Brücke. The beautifully lit ruins of Schloss Heidelberg on a nearby hill could be clearly viewed from the bridge. As I took a few shots with my phone cam, the tower clock from a distance struck twelve, and all castle lights duly turned off.



It was time for (Renato to have) a nightcap. We went into a pub with its own brewery (Vetter Brauhaus). This place emanated with sophisticated energy. It felt like a hub where PhD candidates and professors discuss politics, molecular biology and ancient philosophy during off-hours (of course, the Universität Heidelberg is just a stone’s throw away). Aah, my kinda place. The customers were cosily seated on benches around wood tables, discoursing away.

Renato helped himself to two and a half pints (I managed the remaining half). I was amazed he had not toppled over in alcohol excess. In fact, he was holding quite the intelligent conversation about beer-producing friars and hop variety (in between toilet breaks), albeit with a slight slur in speech.

Two AM was upon us, so we brisk-walked along the Haupstrasse to our respective hotels. We were by then quite alone except for the occasional laughter and hollering from night owls beyond the street. The temperature had dipped some more and the ground was strewn with paper and can litter. A group of youngsters ran past, teasing and nudging each other along the way.

At the entrance of Denner Hotel where Renato left me, we bade each other an early guten morgen. Till 10AM, we both arranged.

This Hero

It’s been almost two months since we parted ways. This Hero had been such a trusted, faithful element of my life. Never letting up when needed, never complained when overworked or perhaps neglected, and never disappointed despite its ilk receiving the worst of criticisms.

In our final moments with each other, my thoughts reeled high with emotion. Of eight years of frequent excursions and explorations, often with music blaring from its system and accompanied by my way off-pitch vocals. Of its engine revving so enthusiastically while mine, at the end of an arduous work day, goes into semi-hibernation. Of it being a part of one adventurous episode after another,
manoeuvring the troughs and peaks of my life’s highway.

I had told myself it is not a living being and as such would not require my bidding it goodbye while saying “thanks for everything” with a handshake or a hug as human decorum dictates. But as I turned my back from it for the last time, I felt it deserved much more than that... I sincerely hope it will be well taken care, so that it continues to be the best 4-wheeled Hero on the road, as its name has implied.

The History Assignment

The write-up on Coliseum Café from the May issue of Malaysia Airlines’ Going Places sure brought back sweet memories.

As second Form students, we were given a group assignment in Sejarah (History) class to chronicle a subject that has shaped itself into the larger context of the country’s historical journey. Being given full independence to decide on the topic, my brainchild was to research on Lat’s life.

It was a selfish choice as I was a fan. Dato’ Lat, as he is known in recent years, was already at that time the nation’s foremost cartoonist whose illustrations of his own and the Malaysian way of life captured many hearts and imagination. As an impressionable child, I was entertained, provoked and marveled by his earlier publications, panel by panel, page by page. I must have leafed through all the sketches at least dozens of times during my childhood.

With the team’s agreement, we set to work. Of course, during the heydays, resources for research were scarce. The internet, for one, was non-existent. The school and public libraries were of no help. The only realistic way of researching the life of a tokoh tempatan (local hero) was to meet him for all the digs.

So on a hot afternoon after school, the group of four walked from Convent Bukit Nanas to the Coliseum Café on Jalan Tuanku Abdul Rahman. None of us had ever set foot in this place. We sheepishly pushed the swinging doors and toddled through. Needless to say, the din died down as patrons stopped their conversations to cast bemused looks at the school-uniformed ensemble set on approaching the pub section.

We waited by the bar counter till we were spoken to by the gentleman behind it. I recalled describing our school project and asked if he could so kindly point Lat out to us if he was around. The gentleman listened patiently and then told us that Lat so happen was not there on that day.

He could have just left it at that but he went on to scribe neatly on a piece of paper Lat’s real name and home phone number and suggested we try calling him instead. I was grateful to the core but due to shock I think I managed to just mumble something resembling “thank you” and we left.

I did call the number. The wife answered. She was another kind soul. She gently explained that unfortunately, he was at the hospital and was due for a medical procedure and as such would be out of commission for some time. We could of course re-pursue when he’s back.

Regretfully, the project had its deadline, so we soon moved on to another topic, which I recall was on KTM, the country’s railway service provider.

It would’ve been so exhilarating, and such a potential scoop, if we really got to meet Lat. But many a time, the journey to getting there is just as noteworthy, if not more.

I retain the slip of paper given by the bartender to this day. I wonder if he is still there (I didn’t see anyone resembling him when visiting the Coliseum years later) and would surely like to thank him properly if I met him again. Another mystery remains. How did I get the lead that Lat was a frequent patron of this restaurant? For the life of me I cannot remember.

Coliseum Café is for many the place to go for a good sizzling steak, a historical monument of the bygone days, or simply a convenient hangout place. For me, it’s a place where an adult stranger had shown genuine kindness to some kids during a brief encounter.

Non-chaos at the eKiosk

It was that simple. Take a couple minutes to renew your passport using the automated teller and you get a new book in two hours.

Bye to the bygone days* of...
...reaching the immigration department before the crack of dawn
...lengthening the already snaking queue of applicants
...jostling for a proper seat within the air-conditioned waiting area
...waiting endlessly for the digital board (cum digital voice) to flash (to announce) the number corresponding to the one on your slip
...filling the ample time with people-watching and newspaper/textbook-reading

The two hours were spent reminiscing with much fondness over spending almost the whole day, inevitably, in the quest for the precious passport.

A big thank you to the implementers of the ekiosk, from a hopeful citizen.

*Circa 1990

In Memory of 2008, Categorically

(And the award goes to...)




Movie of the Year
The Dark Knight. The villain was so acutely disturbing that during the movie I actually prayed he wouldn’t jump off the screen to wreck havoc in my City (coz let's face it, Cicakman is no match for him).

Song of the Year
David Cook’s version of Always Be My Baby. Oxymoronic, but what an original remake!

Book of the Year
John Grogan’s Marley and Me. (Although a 2007 publication, I read it only this year, so by this technicality it qualifies as this year’s.) I will never be able to describe it adequately to convince anyone what a rare gem of a book it is. Read it and you’ll know what I mean. I have a copy if anyone wishes to borrow it.

While on this category, I’d like to note two additional high points:

i. This year, more than ever before, friends and co-workers just came up to me to either give or lend their books, almost for no particular occasion. Strange but true. And so I read the dozen or so books with much gratitude and diligence. Book lenders and givers, you know who you are – I thank you for your generosity!
ii. This is also the year I exposed myself to chick lit. I was one of those who'd reject them haughtily, them being such frivolous works. But surprise, surprise, they're actually rather cathartic, and philosophical too. Have read a few already, and so far none are froufrou frivolous.

Material Possession of the Year
My trusty HP laptop bag. Which has a ripped right shoulder strap as proof of its sacrifice in bearing the weight of my daily belongings. Which has faithfully accompanied me to so many meetings, workshops, conferences, and trips for more than two years.

Eatery of the Year
Café Café, in downtown Kuala Lumpur (this place has been around for some time but was only frequented this year). The following comes to mind - Art nouveau. Delectable cuisine. Dramatic setting, but in a comfy sort of way. Lurve the dreamy crystalline suspensions. Ooh la la... me wanna hum La Vie En Rose thinking bout the place.

Travel Spot of the Year
Bali. It was a dry year, traveling-wise. Nevertheless, Bali easily wins this spot for showcasing its beautiful sunset at Ku De Ta and for affording the luxury of skinny dipping in Alang-Alang Villas’ private pool.

Event of the Year
My moving on to another place of work. Surreal, but happen it did.

Non-Event of the Year
My spending copious amounts of time at the (old) office and at home too, dedicated to conquering the mountainous piles of tasks, paperwork and whatnots. Only to be defeated. Again and again. It was A Dark, Depressing Period. Am glad the serotonin levels are back up to where they rightfully belong.

And finally...

Mantra of the Year
"We do what we can." I'd say 7 Habits' Habit #1 says it all. To focus on what we can control and bugger off with those that we can't.

Annus, Ex Post Facto

By the time I’m over the fact that 2008 had gone by forever more, the 12-tonne truck of 2009 would’ve sped by me as well. Time is passing far too quickly, especially so for yours truly who admits to having a perpetual snail-paced grasp in coming to terms with the end of yet another year that promised to be, er, so promising.

Oh 2008. How regretful I am to have squandered your youth, your potential, the abundance of your inheritance! Now, I have very little to show for, albeit for personal consumption.

“Tomorrow, tomorrow but not today, all the lazy people say.”
No more of this child's play, or I will dearly pay
So come what may, 2009 -
I will honour you, solemn and benign.

Wish me luck in reaping the most from the coming year. And wishing you a peaceful, progressive and health-wealthy new year.