Last Sunday we jumped on our loyal scooter and whizzed through the HDBs of north-east Singapore to reach Punggol. Max had been going on for some time about visiting the area of Punggol due to having viewed some particularly handsome photos of it on Flickr. Photos taken at sunset or early morning by an enthusiastic photographer living in Sing showed a somewhat desolate but at the same time intriguing landscape of beaches peppered with round black boulders, wild flower meadows and swaying grasses and Max wanted to have a go as well. During WWII 1000 Chinese civilians were massacred on the beach by the Japanese in what was to be then remembered as "the Punggol Beach Massacre" (!) and according to local historians it was the oldest settlement in Sing famous for superb seafood and veggie and fruit market trading. So, braving the heat and armed with hats, mosquito repellent and a bottle of cold juice, we took the 15 minute ride to the beach of Punggol in search of wilderness and maybe a grilled sea bass.
In hindsight I should have seen the cranes, drilling machines and excavators as being the sign of something rather sinister but I firmly believed that at least an ounce of wild Sing still existed somewhere on this island and that the bricks-and-mortar-laying obsessed Singaporeans had forgotten this remote area. The newly constructed asphalt road leads to an almost finished elegant teak covered jetty. At both sides of the jetty two concrete paths snake along opposite sides of the beach curving gently to accommodate dainty flower beds all perfectly symmetrical and aligned to teak benches overlooking the stretch of sea that separates Sing from the handsome Malaysian shore covered in petrol refineries with their desalters, storage tanks, waste tanks and above all the romantic fire from the flaring towers. Max mentioned what a good idea it was for this area to be spruced up and utilised for cycling and taking the children out for a stroll, I retorted that a good idea would have been to leave the area as it was originally, just clearing the dirt pathways from time to time and managing the forest. We clearly have different ideas on nature care! A couple of people had walked down to the beach in the vane attempt to catch a fish and we jumped off the pathway as well to stroll on the sand. Plastic bottles, abandoned shoes, polystyrene boxes and remains of the usual food and incense offerings adorn the shore and after only 3 minutes we had to end our customary counting competition of washed up right-foot vs left-foot shoes due to having reached very high numbers (a sad habit, I know, started many moons ago while travelling through the Arctic but we still feel a compelling need to do it). Overall the visit was a disappointment, what must have been a beautiful wild landscape until 6 months ago has today turned cold and uninteresting. Clearly now only clever photo editing and camera positioning are able to brush over the sterile landscape, conceal the plastic and bring out what is left of wild Punggol. Clearly Max did not shoot a single photo.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Zen and the art of believing scales
I love my friend Sue,
she is funny, warm and crazy just as much as I am. We have been friends from day one, both just arrived in Sing and stuck at the lovely but slightly jail like Tree Tops apartments for about 3 months.
Having both been through thick and thin during this particularly difficult year I am always happy when we can meet for a light lunch and a heavier talk so when she called me last week to go to Weelock place and the recently refurbished Sun and Moon Japanese restaurant I could not say no.
After our customary slamming of Singapore (you need to vent out your frustrations once in a while) we started talking about health and fitness since I had been nursing and still am, 2 weeks later, a rather nasty cough and annoying cold.
The subject of weight and finding the strength to subject oneself to incredibly boring gym practices all in the name of slim thighs and flat tummies soon followed and this was when she introduced the subject of scales that can measure not only your weight but your water content, your fat mass, in short your fitness and health and therefore your resulting "age".
I was a bit miffed by this contraption but she went on and on about it and how the shocking news revealed by the scale had been sufficient to shove her sorry bum back to the gym. Worried I asked what had happened and slightly abashed she told me that based on all the pointers above, her "age" had resulted as being 53 when she is well below 40. In panic she went back to running, lifting weights, sweating like crazy and little by little her "age" has been reducing reaching a comfortable 43.
Then she said "why not go to Takashimaya and try one out for yourself?". Taki (as I call it for short) is a very nice department store with everything from clothes to kitchenware to groceries so we meandered through the different areas until we found the scale. It took some time to set up as it wanted to know my age, my height and other bits and pieces. During all this time Sue kept insisting that I should not worry about the initial "age", that it was going to help me move in the right direction, that it would be a push to do more and feel good about myself. By this time I feel a bit panicky and start regretting saying yes to this experiment. I take my shoes off to allow for the scale to bombard my feet with some kind of radiation (hmmm!) that will read my fat mass and water mass and wait anxiously for the result. The display starts to blink, it reads my actual weight, my water percentage, my fat levels and the numbers do not really mean anything to me , all I am waiting for is the only number that counts. Sue is by my side ready to console me when the horrible truth is revealed and all of a sudden.....age 27. Well, what a relief, I am so far away from "age 27" by now that I do not even remember what being under 40 is all about let alone under 30. I am beaming and grinning side to side but I feel a disturbance in the force...Sue's eyes have reduced to little slits and I can feel rather than hear the swearing and evil words cutting like blades through my fit self, with a couple also being addressed towards the useless scale and the world as a whole. I smile, hug her and take her hand saying it is not that bad, that this technology is for the birds and should not be taken too seriously, all marketing fluff after all as usual....but inside I feel a little nugget of warm and happy feelings spreading across my 27 year old body.
she is funny, warm and crazy just as much as I am. We have been friends from day one, both just arrived in Sing and stuck at the lovely but slightly jail like Tree Tops apartments for about 3 months.
Having both been through thick and thin during this particularly difficult year I am always happy when we can meet for a light lunch and a heavier talk so when she called me last week to go to Weelock place and the recently refurbished Sun and Moon Japanese restaurant I could not say no.
After our customary slamming of Singapore (you need to vent out your frustrations once in a while) we started talking about health and fitness since I had been nursing and still am, 2 weeks later, a rather nasty cough and annoying cold.
The subject of weight and finding the strength to subject oneself to incredibly boring gym practices all in the name of slim thighs and flat tummies soon followed and this was when she introduced the subject of scales that can measure not only your weight but your water content, your fat mass, in short your fitness and health and therefore your resulting "age".
I was a bit miffed by this contraption but she went on and on about it and how the shocking news revealed by the scale had been sufficient to shove her sorry bum back to the gym. Worried I asked what had happened and slightly abashed she told me that based on all the pointers above, her "age" had resulted as being 53 when she is well below 40. In panic she went back to running, lifting weights, sweating like crazy and little by little her "age" has been reducing reaching a comfortable 43.
Then she said "why not go to Takashimaya and try one out for yourself?". Taki (as I call it for short) is a very nice department store with everything from clothes to kitchenware to groceries so we meandered through the different areas until we found the scale. It took some time to set up as it wanted to know my age, my height and other bits and pieces. During all this time Sue kept insisting that I should not worry about the initial "age", that it was going to help me move in the right direction, that it would be a push to do more and feel good about myself. By this time I feel a bit panicky and start regretting saying yes to this experiment. I take my shoes off to allow for the scale to bombard my feet with some kind of radiation (hmmm!) that will read my fat mass and water mass and wait anxiously for the result. The display starts to blink, it reads my actual weight, my water percentage, my fat levels and the numbers do not really mean anything to me , all I am waiting for is the only number that counts. Sue is by my side ready to console me when the horrible truth is revealed and all of a sudden.....age 27. Well, what a relief, I am so far away from "age 27" by now that I do not even remember what being under 40 is all about let alone under 30. I am beaming and grinning side to side but I feel a disturbance in the force...Sue's eyes have reduced to little slits and I can feel rather than hear the swearing and evil words cutting like blades through my fit self, with a couple also being addressed towards the useless scale and the world as a whole. I smile, hug her and take her hand saying it is not that bad, that this technology is for the birds and should not be taken too seriously, all marketing fluff after all as usual....but inside I feel a little nugget of warm and happy feelings spreading across my 27 year old body.
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