Back to Business Again

I am back in Melbourne again after a month in Malaysia, from the oven back into the refrigerator. Melbourne's winter is particularly harsh this year. It was six degrees when I arrived at Tullamarine.

I am no longer that reluctant to leave Malaysia anymore. Perhaps it is the growing disappointment in the path where my beloved home is heading; perhaps one grows out of being sentimental after being away for too long; perhaps after leaving home six times, the effect wears off; perhaps it is the brand new lens that Cherry bought from Hong Kong for me that made me anxious to return; perhaps there is more to it than I know of.

There are certain things in Melbourne I have missed and will miss when I am somewhere else.

Friends.

Not Crown but beautiful architecture in general.

Coffee that actually tastes like coffee.

The amazing pink tint in the sky after sunset.

I love this place.

Somewhere Over The Rainbow

I was up at six in the morning when I noticed the time on the bottom right of my laptop screen. It was another one of those sleepless nights in front of the computer spent reading, chatting, listening, watching, contemplating, yawning...

I turned to the glass panel on my right and saw that it was just past first light and as I walked toward the panel, three hot air balloons rose from behind the city skyline. To the east, sunbeams peeking through sheets after sheets of grayish clouds, tinted by a sunny orange. As I panned from east to west, there was a vivid rainbow against the cloudy backdrop while hot air balloons were flying across it. 

A breathtaking moment. A familiar tune in my head. 'Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high'.

An inspiration. An epiphany. The world is beautiful when everyone is asleep.

Going Through the Motions

I am staring again, into blank space, just before the white wall illuminated by a strong fluorescent light. Muddled thoughts fill my head but there is no direction in my contemplation. Another sign that I am in the middle of an uneventful stretch in life, devoid of any interest or enthusiasm, just going through the motions.

I am not bored, per se. In fact I have too much on my hands that I have trouble finding the starting point. Whether I should start by drafting the 5000 word Organisational Behaviour essay, to study French and to plan the debate cum speaking test that is happening in two weeks, or to revise for the Business Finance mid-semester test on Thursday or to attempt to understand Econometrics which seems to be drifting into obscurity. While struggling to decide, I usually end up watching an episode of Family Guy or random covers of songs on Youtube.

I just feel an overwhelming sense of laziness, and any willpower to change is quickly extinguished by the strong resistance to change, and before you know it I am lulled into the succour in being static. Time is just slipping away surreptitiously. Ask me how much time I have spent studying and I would fail badly at accounting for that time. However, I would like to think that the time I have actually spent studying was efficacious. In reverse, ask me what I have done other than studying and I will also have problems coming up with a straight answer. I have not spent much time on games, not more than an hour a week on photography and hardly any time on my blog. It is rather amazing how time just gets sucked away while one is doing nothing.

My health is probably going downhill too. Half the time when I wonder what to eat I end up taking away a brown bag from Hungry Jacks. I do not feel like cooking and even if I do I would probably cook and eat the same thing day in day out.

I need a shot of excitement up my veins. I just hope something pops up sometime soon. While waiting I shall resume my blank stare.

Back on the Grid!

Son of a bitch!

That is the only way to start a blog post when you finally get internet access at home after one bloody month.

One week waiting for the application to be approved, another few working days before my address was authenticated for billing, waiting for the internet service provider to get clearance from Telstra, then it is another ten working days until the technician comes to connect the service to the main distribution frame and another wait over the weekend until another technician Keith contacted came to jumper the connection from the MDF to my apartment, and then trying to connect to the internet with an incompatible modem router, buying a new modem router and finally being able to connect.

Yes, this is how Australian ISPs function. If you get your service within three weeks of application, it is excellent service, anything before that is a miracle.

Like Old Times

Last weekend was pretty packed with activities. Not a bad thing for the first weekend back in Melbourne.

The pre-weekend dinner was the usual hot pot (or steamboat for you Malaysians). However, this time, almost the whole company, came along instead of the usual two or three. Keith did not join as usual. He is a good boy hence does not do pot.

At first we wanted to go to the new place on Bourke for hot pot but in the end decided it was not worth it. Two in the company wanted to go to the usual haunt on Lygon while the other two thought that it was too far thus suggested Little Lamb. Holding the crucial vote and being undecided, I left the choice to the one dollar coin.

This restaurant used to belong to Mary.
Spicy sichuan broth; clear broth.
Thin slices of lamb.
Cold lungs.

The service at Little Lamb was excruciatingly slow due to the overwhelming number of customers and that meal being my first for the day, I did not bother taking any more photos at the price of starvation. Besides, the food is not spetacular and the pot was not something you can get high on.

On Saturday, I met up with secondary schoolmates, Glenn, who had just arrived in Melbourne a week ago and Kar Hao who has already been here for long. We had lunch at Universal Steakhouse on Lygon.

Chicken schnitzel.

Noticing that the prices of red meat on the menu have increased by a good twenty or so percent, I went for the chicken schnitzel instead. I do not know why I chose chicken schnitzel, it is after all a battered piece of flattened chicken breast which makes it even tougher and drier than it already is. Luckily the dish came with a sauce. The beer batter fries on the other hand were good. I have always loved chunky fries instead of the crispy shoestring ones.

We had a long chat about old times and the future at lunch and the chatter continued as we moved across the street to Freddo's, the ice cream place.

Freddo's Surprise, pandan and cookies.

That night, Keith and I went over to a friend's place for games from 9 p.m. to 4 a.m as we used to do last year. Warcraft III custom games were on as usual and we had something new that night, a card game called Sabotage. It is highly addictive and I expect to be playing more of it from now on.

I slept in on Sunday and woke up at about 1 p.m. Noticing there was not a single cloud in the sky, I left for Southbank in search for good vantage points for photography, again. I wanted to stay until sunset but after a short while under the scorching summer sun, I went home to wait for the sunset and for dinner.

Eureka tower.

I left home for Southbank at 7.30 p.m. to catch the blue hour. The sky was not pink as I hoped it would be. Looks like I will be making this trip again in the near future.

HDR of the cityscape from Southbank.
HDR of the sunset and part of the city.

I need a wide angle lens.

Back to Business

Probably not such an appropriate title. I do not have any business unless it is walking in the streets of Melbourne taking random shots of people or interesting things.

Many would think Melbourne is a good place for photography. It probably is if you like to take bad photos of buildings or just stuff few hundred people crossing the road into the frame. Other than that, there is probably nothing worth taking. However, being stuck here for most of the year and with a camera, I can only work with what I have. Armed with that belief, I went out yesterday with Keith into the streets and alleyways of Melbourne CBD. Here are the results:

A contrast between the pace of the old and the young.

Walking into the graffiti alley.

The interesting bike with a lot of wood on Little Collins. Probably not the best composition.

Rear view of the bike.

Last night was the reunion dinner among my group of friends, Keith, Henry, Mimi, Cherry, Edwin and Amanda. As much as I would like to think it was a welcome dinner for me, it was probably not. Anyway, we had Korean food in Oriental Spoon.

Korean appetisers.

As usual, there is always a serve of beansprouts and kimchi before the mains arrive. This time there was some sour, chewy, springy, noodle-like strips which most of us did not appreciate.

Stone bowl bibimbap.

Probably the only Korean food I know other than kimchi and bugolgi. Nonetheless, I still had high expectations despite knowing next to nothing about Korean cuisine. However, I was disappointed with Oriental Spoon's version of bibimbap. Being such a pricey and posh (for my standards at least) restaurant, the quality of the bibimbap fails to justify. The shitake mushroom slices had the texture of rubber and the chicken lacked flavour.

Korean seafood pancake.

I forgot the name of this dish in Korean, but the taste is definitely unforgettable. This is probably the dish I will be ordering if I ever return to Oriental Spoon. Being a great fan of seafood, I could not resist the fresh octopus, cuttlefish and prawns in that crispy skin batter. It was savoury but not yet salty enough as to overpower the freshness of the seafood, a big plus. This is the dish that single-handedly or should I say tentacledly saved Oriental Spoon from the big bad blacklist.

After dinner we went for a drink at Max Brenner's in Melbourne Central. I did not bother taking any photos due to the bad lighting and high ceiling which makes my external flash almost useless. Another reason was probably my long time disappointment with Max Brenner's drinks. I ordered a thick Italian milk chocolate. It was really thick, I give it that, but the flavour was not full enough. It was far from the complex amalgam of various nuts; all I tasted was thick, sticky chocolate.

Nights out never end until after a congregation back in my place. Last night Keith's guitar was in the limelight. Keith, Edwin and I took turns to play a guitar but none of us could play an entire song. The rest were just lazing around, being bored and sleeping. Somehow, I have a feeling that there will be many deja vu moments of this moment for the next few months.

Melbourned

Melbourne, here I am fifteen and a half hours since arrival. The eight hour long flight did not feel like an eternity. Maybe my back has been molded to fill the AirAsia seats nicely after all this while, or maybe I was seated next to a pretty white girl instead of a sweaty, pimpled teenager tapping away on a PSP. The long wait at the baggage claim feels like an instant in retrospect. The taxi ride on the way back to the city was probably the only thing that affected my emotions due to the meter that skips a few dollars every time I look away.

Arriving back at the apartment felt like returning home after a tiring game of mahjong or a heavy dinner. Opening that clean, snow white door is probably an invitation to a routine. Walking to class and back, cheap a la carte Chinese food for dinner, listening to the same old music, watching old episodes of American series, refreshing Facebook every half minute. All those thoughts came to my mind as I walked in a state of apathy into the place I left vacant three months ago.

After waking Keith up while changing bedsheets and pillowcases, I played around with his electric guitar that lacked an E string, then fiddled with his new Tamron lens. Other than that, life is pretty much back to where it was.

Wanting to break the routine with increased productivity, at least for the coming month, I made a to-do list which I would most likely disregard sooner than desired. So far, I have crossed off payment of bills and revising one chapter of French. I had also, for the first time, cleaned my bathroom.

University life also did not feel any different. My first class of the semester, a French tutorial with only five students in it felt a bit strange. The tutor thought the class was at 3.15 while the students thought it was 2.15. In the end, most of the students left save five. Three of the five took French in VCE and were a lot more fluent than those who took French Beginners back in year one. Due to lack of practice, my French is very rusty by now. Looks like I will have to work harder.

Merde.

The Reluctant Return

Some say leaving home for the first time is the hardest. For me, I have already experienced leaving home on four occasions and I am about to face the fifth a few hours from now. From what I gather, it only gets harder each time.

When I left for Melbourne for the first time two years back, I had little or completely no hard feelings. I was strutting into that bright red AirAsia A330 with gusto and sky-high spirits, anticipating of what was in store for me in this new place I had heard so much about but had never seen before.

Today, much of that freshness has worn off.

Furthermore, there is still much for me to miss in Malaysia. After all, home is where the heart is.

I will have to admit that family rises above all the things in mind. Mom's constant nagging, heated disapproval and eventually the helpless acceptance of my behaviour; dad's persistent attempts to bond and his wisdom conveyed in silence; cheh's relentless jabs at my (non-existent) ego and her expression of relief when she has me to share her thoughts with; kong kong's doting and his series of advices; and just the presence and concern of family members mean so much to me. After spending a good three months with them, the thought of being in their absence for four months weighs my heart down.

In second place would be the food. Although I have been (over) indulging, gaining five kilos in the process, and have ticked off most of the boxes in my to-eat list, I still look forward to my next meal in Malaysia.

Farewell dinner: Balitong and Hokkien Mee

I understand that the reluctance in leaving is short lived and once I am back in Melbourne and not left with a choice of returning, I can do little other than sobering up and trying my best to enjoy the time I have there.

Inevitably, there will also be times when the thoughts about home will creep back into mind but that is the pain I have to live with. Perhaps I would find succour instead of agony in these thoughts in times of need.

Until next time, selamat tinggal Malaysia.

Chinese New Year 2011

Beware: Long post below

Chinese New Year has always been a period of conflicting emotions for me. On the one hand, I look forward to Chinese New Year, expecting family togetherness, a week-long festival of eating, drinking, gambling and attempting the absurd; on the other hand, I hate the potential disappointment that future Chinese New Years can bring. Experience from recent years shows that the past few Chinese New Years pale in comparison to those of the good old days.

This year may be the year of the rabbit, but I surely was not hopping joyfully in anticipation of Chinese New Year. I lowered my expectation by a great margin and swore that no matter how bad Chinese New Year may be, I would not lose any sleep over it. Fortunately, the New Year turned out to be nothing like I pictured it to be.

Ironically, the most important day in the 15-day long festival is New Year’s Eve. This is because reunion dinner is held on this day. Theoretically, every member of the extended family gathers for a feast. Chinese societies are usually patrilineal so the married females would gather at their in-laws' place. However, the domineering women on my mother's side, my mother including, would never let that happen.

Spot the domineering women.

Reunion dinner this year was hosted by jee ee, my mom's second sister. Before the dinner, there was much of the usual mingling going on. Christopher and I playing around with the camera, Sunita trying to read her book among a cacophony of chatter, mom and jee ee in the kitchen and the rest of the family just making loud noises in the background.

Scoring some artistic shots.

Black and white candids.

The eccentric extended family photos.

Experimental photography.

Toilet humour.

The downright disturbing.

Unlike typical Chinese families who eat proper Chinese food during Chinese New Year, mine feast on salted chicken that looks unfit even for dogs (kay char iam), meat in thick, black, sweet sauce along which looks nowhere as good as it sounds along with rubberised eggs (kay hong) and traditional Malay food like rendang, acar and keropok.

Would your dog eat this?

The good shit. Almost literally based on appearance.

Hari Raya?

Some acar to improve our appetite.

Look! Chinese food!

These people ate all of the above.

First day of Chinese New Year means an abundance of red: old people still making a point to wear red, red packets, ten ringgit notes on the gambling table and of course red underwear to assist the process of acquiring those notes. It also means taking boring old family photos. Deciding that the old ways only produced fake smiles had to go, much to the chagrin on jee ee, the fake smile expert, we tried candids!

True smiles.

My favourite family photo thus far.

The next day, we embarked on a journey to my hometown, Kuala Terengganu. I was pretty hesitant on going back as we usually spend most of the time visiting distant relatives that I cannot remember or have not met. Coming from a small town like K.T., I have hundreds, literally, of relatives that my parents and grandfather keep in touch with. Visiting relatives is such a chore to me that I dread going back to K.T. Sure, angpows make a good monetary incentive but above that I prefer spending the meagre amount of time I have with close relatives. It is common sense to me, quality over quantity.

Lucky for me, the trip to K.T. was a short one, hence an unprecedented plummet in the number of visiting we had to do. We did visit the more significant, as I would say, relatives like my father’s siblings, grandfather’s siblings and cousins. Yes, that is the definition of significant to Terengganu folks. I was quite happy as we spent more time with close relatives instead of visiting my grandfather’s cousin’s uncle’s son-in-law or something like that. On the way from Kuala Lumpur to Terengganu, we stopped by my da gu, dad’s sister’s house for the usual gathering. Other than having a rare opportunity to meet my paternal relatives, da gu’s hot pot broth (boiled fish, chicken, pig bones and pig stomach) is to die for.

Savouring the soup.

Women of the Chong clan. Not so domineering.

This trip was quite refreshing to me as K.T. has changed quite a bit since my last visit in 2009. The main street of Terengganu, Jalan Kampung Cina underwent a major facelift. Many of the century old buildings were given a new façade and painted with bright colours. Behind the row of shops in Kampung Cina, what used to be a river decorated by rubbish is now a canal embellished by metal bridges and mosaic tiles. Were there any developments that would benefit the lives of Terengganu folk and are not just exorbitant white elephants? Probably not.

However, the things I like about K.T. are those that did not change one bit. Quality of food for example, and I can do no better than to begin with mm po’s nasi dagang. If nasi dagang is most commonly found in Terengganu, then her nasi dagang is, dare I claim, the best in the world. Fragrant, soft glutinous rice served with mackerel in sweet and spicy gravy, just heavenly.

A bold but honest proclamation: Best nasi dagang in the world.

Tied at second place are jee chim po, my grandfather’s sister-in-law’s laksa Terengganu and bubur lambuk. There’s nothing I miss more than the fishy goodness in Terengganu cuisine and I got a fair share of that this time. I could not resist the food, hence no pictures.

There is also Kari Asha's roti canai. Best roti I have tasted so far. Far better than the thick, floury roti from the usual roti joints in K.L. or Ipoh, Kari Asha's roti is crispy on the outside but soft on the inside and most importantly, not at all burnt.

Definitely gold standard.

Other than piling on the pounds by gobbling down ridiculous amounts of food, gambling is the next best thing to do during Chinese New Year, especially in Terengganu where there is nothing much else to do. Almost every relative’s house we step foot in becomes a gambling den. Despite my greater than desired share of losing, it was great fun.

5th meal of the day.

Before I noticed the passing time, it was time to return to K.L. again. Spending the rest of Chinese New Year in K.L. is something new for me. For most of the nights we had dinner with family friends. There was dinner with Aunty Dorothy and family at Jaya Palace.

Smoked duck in sauce on the left, smoked duck breast with coleslaw and mayo. Heavenly, nothing less.

There was also an eight course dinner that Aunty Koon Hwa cooked with assistance from her maid, but no small feat nonetheless.

Homemade dishes. Seriously.

Another event during New Year was gathering at ku Kiang's new house. There was definitely no shortage of eating and gambling there.

Abundance.

Ku Kiang and family.

To mark the end of the fifteen day long festival, we held a family gathering in Armanee. Hotpot was the order of the day as usual but this year it was I who prepared the broth. Gambling is also high on the agenda at every family gathering, and I got a chance to redeem myself at the table for one last time this year.

Trying to sneak a good shot before the eating starts.

Hotpot.

For the first time in my life, I celebrated the full duration of Chinese New Year. It started on a good note and ended with a bang. I could not ask for more, but I ask for a similar experience in 2012, since it might be the last Chinese New Year I get to celebrate.