tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3580935839995710792024-02-29T02:12:29.505-08:00Bits & Pieces... Where Memories GatherLo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.comBlogger243125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358093583999571079.post-67624732378388425852024-01-29T19:36:00.000-08:002024-01-29T19:55:40.751-08:00Remember this wall?<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVCug7Q-YBTY1k74kwRnQB4MEWkoe_oq0ZMZO4gtLbZ7Lygsn0SnqCv3sVv4tPWqAoYLN7OpdSzYuvTg32dnFK8XclYkZT5Lp4g5z2U3X7Bm0qXP9BFSPKs1BkK4xlkKAEUVqrCLY_gSXUY49Z3Nziomy5JlduoOZtXTHB3TSi1tK7jAT8l9oNdYpZQQ/s4080/20240128_093215.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3060" data-original-width="4080" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVCug7Q-YBTY1k74kwRnQB4MEWkoe_oq0ZMZO4gtLbZ7Lygsn0SnqCv3sVv4tPWqAoYLN7OpdSzYuvTg32dnFK8XclYkZT5Lp4g5z2U3X7Bm0qXP9BFSPKs1BkK4xlkKAEUVqrCLY_gSXUY49Z3Nziomy5JlduoOZtXTHB3TSi1tK7jAT8l9oNdYpZQQ/w320-h209/20240128_093215.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><p>Crumbling old wall near the building (below) that was once part of an airport and then the People's Association of Singapore. Glad that it is still standing.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkkMHw5LuFtsTOuA_MTj4AG6Hr_wwSrmtPqSi0Jyz7Bt1heZATsNx_Hh9GJveVZp-YSeSNFQvtGna-tAz_0Kqu5lGfuQmRsZOOVG691LihDJOHAjcaTIb3zOabbKv4vwMnTBJsIk7hU6fGXMkz_flAEE4zdm_fLK-iVkaYswK1SYMqlOFT9tMTN7t4KQ/s4080/20240128_093540.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3060" data-original-width="4080" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkkMHw5LuFtsTOuA_MTj4AG6Hr_wwSrmtPqSi0Jyz7Bt1heZATsNx_Hh9GJveVZp-YSeSNFQvtGna-tAz_0Kqu5lGfuQmRsZOOVG691LihDJOHAjcaTIb3zOabbKv4vwMnTBJsIk7hU6fGXMkz_flAEE4zdm_fLK-iVkaYswK1SYMqlOFT9tMTN7t4KQ/s320/20240128_093540.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Lo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358093583999571079.post-30825941242633595302023-12-29T13:18:00.000-08:002023-12-29T13:18:04.856-08:00Back lane of Emerald Hill<p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn2EdgEySx4wIbOgRO3ylG2OntmWtJiXtGA2B7lFlKmHUJJS4Rf2Azo5ZoSko3sJj0-3vedn7BVZmEhtLfZYXIfH7yTP0flckSpp3a4ojSy757SxgMtzVk6k4NzDsGEVq41rPPKuPeq20hJyb8DyySk8ZG3eyN0sr5dsDNhxWgxo0O-9ma0wPT6dShhw/s4000/20231229_094545.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn2EdgEySx4wIbOgRO3ylG2OntmWtJiXtGA2B7lFlKmHUJJS4Rf2Azo5ZoSko3sJj0-3vedn7BVZmEhtLfZYXIfH7yTP0flckSpp3a4ojSy757SxgMtzVk6k4NzDsGEVq41rPPKuPeq20hJyb8DyySk8ZG3eyN0sr5dsDNhxWgxo0O-9ma0wPT6dShhw/s320/20231229_094545.jpg" width="240" /></a></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC9yTvsOC5Mjg1SsoXBzgIew3G4_9Ja8qOO1rs93c7vCKnAUOb6lKg0shSLoz3Y9ax5tnoODsC9FzWphmAfrWqbPYb-wpRXXVFOlBC7NoafKnuDrR2OpiB9JSjPifoAWThvvZjjkCBAxttvxX4rTiWSNQ_MGLr4EfJdBZ_BlNMqTeWQTq7WtB9UU2ioQ/s4000/20231229_094617.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC9yTvsOC5Mjg1SsoXBzgIew3G4_9Ja8qOO1rs93c7vCKnAUOb6lKg0shSLoz3Y9ax5tnoODsC9FzWphmAfrWqbPYb-wpRXXVFOlBC7NoafKnuDrR2OpiB9JSjPifoAWThvvZjjkCBAxttvxX4rTiWSNQ_MGLr4EfJdBZ_BlNMqTeWQTq7WtB9UU2ioQ/s320/20231229_094617.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2DrSiMAWsWS7OhZDhqSTASp0uksVN1gEG59z_18S8YfyEfay9Nae2YCtYDXFfMUNhtXSfDfNwbHQcqks7ecs0N8guyJDMvw030ioqzneXmKn33QiGWFLE7TM2feQ2z0mq-tU6i7yskzXx9NGOT0OAKRmLCseuCFvi7St2hU6RqvEAFsQHsRgQUkE2aQ/s4000/20231229_094625.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2DrSiMAWsWS7OhZDhqSTASp0uksVN1gEG59z_18S8YfyEfay9Nae2YCtYDXFfMUNhtXSfDfNwbHQcqks7ecs0N8guyJDMvw030ioqzneXmKn33QiGWFLE7TM2feQ2z0mq-tU6i7yskzXx9NGOT0OAKRmLCseuCFvi7St2hU6RqvEAFsQHsRgQUkE2aQ/s320/20231229_094625.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>Lo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358093583999571079.post-10504711790185113672022-09-29T22:29:00.001-07:002022-09-30T03:02:08.222-07:00A fall and a memory<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiifYGHwxjmiqlzb_vbu897BLtWtDvip0Mv_MuI3uTXslSZHROOGenYCPlg3R6nuV1A2iAHfZbPhyHc_Y6kAifzOtWiAivYFbVt8DUtL0px1lUbQxH2JaaxuG9wG7K9hR0Zm7CzYW28YOMfPu1cVezmCpCw7keYXVHxdPm9c8KmlwC88SDMLYropuY/s1088/IMG-20220930-WA0003.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1065" data-original-width="1088" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiifYGHwxjmiqlzb_vbu897BLtWtDvip0Mv_MuI3uTXslSZHROOGenYCPlg3R6nuV1A2iAHfZbPhyHc_Y6kAifzOtWiAivYFbVt8DUtL0px1lUbQxH2JaaxuG9wG7K9hR0Zm7CzYW28YOMfPu1cVezmCpCw7keYXVHxdPm9c8KmlwC88SDMLYropuY/w200-h196/IMG-20220930-WA0003.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /> Can't imagine I tripped and fell... again. The last time was missing a step at an overhead bridge. This time right in front of the Sri Mariamman Temple. Was looking at its shrouded gopuram (the front tower) as well as all its sacred cows perched on its walls. Think it is undergoing a face-lift.<p></p><p>Each time I fell I remembered my mum telling me how she slipped and fell in Chinatown while looking for the stall that sold dried mushrooms.</p><p>I cannot wish hard enough that I had accompanied her. She is gone now but the pain and regret that I had not shown her enough care and love remain.</p>Lo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358093583999571079.post-30723463048411704942022-09-26T03:07:00.004-07:002022-09-26T03:19:32.846-07:00The parrot gang<p> Whatever happened to the parrot gang at West Coast Park? They were my special attraction whenever I took a walk there. Some three or four of them would be at the park with their beautiful parrots 🦜. </p><p>It's always such a joy to see these birds circle the sky, squawking abandonly. But at a command, they would fly back to settle on their owners' hands.</p><p>Of late however, birds and owners are no where to be seen. Hmm, hope they are gone just for a short holiday. </p>Lo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358093583999571079.post-8929141221716296362022-09-23T18:33:00.001-07:002022-09-23T23:40:26.679-07:00Strange coincidence <p> One or two bus stops after Vivo City, I saw a guy bending over the front right wheel of his car. Think he was jacking it up to change a punctured tyre. </p><p>Another bus stop after this. I saw the same thing. Car colour the same ( looked like the previous car though I couldn't confirm it's the same make), punctured tyre same wheel... car parked about the same distance from the bus stop as the last troubled car. Driver bending in the same position.</p><p>Did I somehow get a glimpse of the future? Or just coincidence?</p><p><br /></p>Lo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358093583999571079.post-29496323624495039882022-08-07T23:54:00.002-07:002022-08-08T00:05:10.673-07:00Rock of Sisyphus<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz0MNnUP6h3BGPJ133EK9_qlA6J_ZjlpLUkVACrcqMqmr057hdXbsxy8bccaWfV-AzQ26GsptIsHxfhhb-k-jykjuun-nNNXvRj6zA3tvYln8kGmWjkMo6oFFPzlbnPOOfBuGpCFtZ5SvTTM3yDCHozN2ypueMLwz8blClfvJeaS3WXybs16-gOC8/s3368/20220808_140009.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3368" data-original-width="2985" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz0MNnUP6h3BGPJ133EK9_qlA6J_ZjlpLUkVACrcqMqmr057hdXbsxy8bccaWfV-AzQ26GsptIsHxfhhb-k-jykjuun-nNNXvRj6zA3tvYln8kGmWjkMo6oFFPzlbnPOOfBuGpCFtZ5SvTTM3yDCHozN2ypueMLwz8blClfvJeaS3WXybs16-gOC8/s320/20220808_140009.jpg" width="284" /></a></div><br /> First they tell you 10,000 steps a day is good for you. That would take you approximately about 1 hr and 45 mins. Then they say no good if you just saunter around admiring the view and smelling the roses. Must do brisk walking. Then they say, just brisk walking not good enough, must do some strength resistance exercises to lessen muscle loss. Still not enough, must also do exercises that increase flexibility... stretch those muscles... work towards long, lean muscles.<p></p><p>So for about three days, I couldn't clear my cat litter very well. Couldn't stoop because of some stretching exercises which I either did wrongly or overly. The rock has rolled back on me.</p><p>But hey today, I find I could stoop a bit more! Yay! I have pushed the rock up a little bit.</p><p>Homer got it right, the guy who supposedly wrote about the adventures of ancient Greeks and Greek gods in his poems. Sisyphus, one of the characters, a king no less, was condemned by Zeus to push a rock up the hill for eternity -- a punishment for his wicked deeds. The moment Sisyphus managed to push it up a little, it came tumbling back and he had to push it up again. </p><p>Don't we have to keep pushing this rock -- on a personal-- and macro level. On the macro level, just when we have made some advances in fighting the pandemic, when the economy started to show signs of picking up -- and we have the Ukraine war -- and many other political unrests. We thought technology has come to the rescue. Hurray for cars, aircon and of course handphones! But then there's climate change. </p><p>I guess that's the human condition. We just have to keep pushing the rock. And oh, count our blessings.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Lo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358093583999571079.post-27132925422626197642022-08-05T05:45:00.003-07:002022-08-05T10:22:37.793-07:00When eating an ice cream is so hard<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPWVtkWdnKwtFCqhwpg5B3kL6quarNL44MempAtCgQSl20QfIyt-H1NrgAp3PXxgT8jhLxj0dryZdM5w1eo_1l04xG5o13of3XhmMGf9ZOIrbyvEVLor3KoxVhQ5vq502q0ZzISuaTY5uBu8YYuJnBqwC5iPqBG0xFs0KCb2ZF65Z5ePLYRr8-_bg/s2094/IMG-20220616-WA0004.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2093" data-original-width="2094" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPWVtkWdnKwtFCqhwpg5B3kL6quarNL44MempAtCgQSl20QfIyt-H1NrgAp3PXxgT8jhLxj0dryZdM5w1eo_1l04xG5o13of3XhmMGf9ZOIrbyvEVLor3KoxVhQ5vq502q0ZzISuaTY5uBu8YYuJnBqwC5iPqBG0xFs0KCb2ZF65Z5ePLYRr8-_bg/s320/IMG-20220616-WA0004.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">😖You rush home with your precious tub of ice cream. Just can't wait to dig in. But why, oh why is it so difficult to remove that stupid piece of foil on top after removing the cap? Sure, there is that little tab which supposedly allows you to lift it up with ease. But tug all you like, it wouldn't budge. A tweezer may help offer a firm grip. Where's that eyebrow tweezer when I needed it? Look, I am having a bad day. Is it so difficult to eat a tub of ice cream?</div><br /></div><p></p>Lo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358093583999571079.post-25927307264619015862022-07-21T04:46:00.001-07:002022-07-21T04:49:51.530-07:00Wind catchers<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUEx0yGgyo8QjUGSK149_PffB7apyHbpzODjGxkdF1oMWBhFQFv2bpBvPs5besN0LTw7wyJNrM_moUxk2afLb24m4qpOT1Z8KrnH4deiPjC39nTvEj6HbDgD4cnaAZZnZknCwguVKFrs22wSQWw72iFGgXO5wILq7XsW15Qt0m29OWIr-lVtuS0Vc/s4000/20220721_081730.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUEx0yGgyo8QjUGSK149_PffB7apyHbpzODjGxkdF1oMWBhFQFv2bpBvPs5besN0LTw7wyJNrM_moUxk2afLb24m4qpOT1Z8KrnH4deiPjC39nTvEj6HbDgD4cnaAZZnZknCwguVKFrs22wSQWw72iFGgXO5wILq7XsW15Qt0m29OWIr-lVtuS0Vc/w300-h400/20220721_081730.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /> As I passed by this sun-drenched "valley" along Commonwealth Ave, it occurred to me that this would be an ideal place to fly a kite. See, there's a clear space for one to run with the kite so that it will take off. And, there's no one else crazy enough to do the same here -- so no chances of getting one's kite entangled with another. <p></p><p>I don't remember when was the last time I flew a kite. But I remember the first time I learnt to fly one was down the road outside the house we used to live. I would hold the kite chest level. My brother would hold the string some distance down the road. At the shout of 3, I was supposed to throw the kite up into the air, and my brother would run like the wind. And the kite was supposed to take off. Of course, I would like to be the one running, but usually, I was designated to hold the kite. </p><p>These days, though it is nice to see all sorts of creatures flying in the sky at places where kite aficionados like to go, I still prefer the old rice paper ones with bamboo frames -- with a nice long tail.</p><p>Wind catcher, anyone? I don't mind holding the kite :)</p><p><br /></p>Lo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358093583999571079.post-61368220827221213052022-07-16T00:21:00.013-07:002022-07-17T09:36:57.551-07:00The long walk<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggiRWNs4Q89O20y3YEj2cfXpkJX_LY1gi0ejtSCoJwPC8yGlSD0jSY6opR3qM08EYh5Ceovki7lAFS4bLQ-4doYcZsczBKes15nD_jJq7Ew3sZMucjNlbtq2Tgy1FI7oEMcMv1qnm1-jFLkD65b1fe0-vdcjLoeXCSmCSBy4S5urpT8wHe8Lo8t_c/s4000/20220716_080043.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggiRWNs4Q89O20y3YEj2cfXpkJX_LY1gi0ejtSCoJwPC8yGlSD0jSY6opR3qM08EYh5Ceovki7lAFS4bLQ-4doYcZsczBKes15nD_jJq7Ew3sZMucjNlbtq2Tgy1FI7oEMcMv1qnm1-jFLkD65b1fe0-vdcjLoeXCSmCSBy4S5urpT8wHe8Lo8t_c/w400-h300/20220716_080043.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Back in the 90s, when I first explored this stretch of the Ulu Pandan park connector (from Clementi towards Jurong), it was a narrow clayey, sandy lane with tall lallang on both sides. I remember walking endlessly in my Japanese slippers. It was afternoon and hot, hot, hot. But there was no return as I had proceeded quite far into the unknown. Must find out where it leads to. Surprise, surprise, it opened into Boon Lay Way or was it Boon Lay Road, can't really remember. So from there, I took a bus back. Luckily, I had some coins on me!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Long walks are not alien to me. I think it was primary 3? It was art and craft day and after the exhibition of our works in the morning, we had the afternoon off. My friend suggested I should visit her home. So both holding our handicrafts (a wooden stool done by the boys with a seat cover decorated with cross stitches done by girls) we were off.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">If I remember rightly, the sandy lane (Lorong something starting with G) branched off old Cheng San Road and ran parallel to Tavistock Avenue for a bit. Then it ran amok, winding through villages and wells. It took forever to reach her house somewhere in Sembawang (?). It was a wonder I could find my way home, with strength enough to carry that blessed stool.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">One day, I shall go to the National Library and dig out an old street directory. I would really love to relive that walk. How did my friend walk such a distance every day to school in Serangoon Gardens? BTW, she was a skinny girl with a thick pony tail who suddenly out of the blue one day, vomited a huge round worm in class.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Hardy creatures we were. <span style="text-align: center;"> </span></div><p></p>Lo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358093583999571079.post-27724423915821122822022-07-13T08:43:00.005-07:002022-07-18T14:04:58.295-07:00Huckleberry friend<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBa7nHM88no-wdfYxv5TBBpVveKvewNz7JTQ_2Bgr-H3L4rfsk2hqLywLOIydxQdQB5lop_3U-6nep0uUsoIvwruOC20nxAL3CriYDEnpGeJzAKrt0tjtlySmfhWz3nz6nkv4mh26T9MW3EEaz8zvmL2KeYGblv_Lgmg3USsMP9SoyJ3D3ILMwrIA/s1102/IMG-20220714-WA0000.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1102" data-original-width="1097" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBa7nHM88no-wdfYxv5TBBpVveKvewNz7JTQ_2Bgr-H3L4rfsk2hqLywLOIydxQdQB5lop_3U-6nep0uUsoIvwruOC20nxAL3CriYDEnpGeJzAKrt0tjtlySmfhWz3nz6nkv4mh26T9MW3EEaz8zvmL2KeYGblv_Lgmg3USsMP9SoyJ3D3ILMwrIA/s320/IMG-20220714-WA0000.jpg" width="319" /></a></div><p>Moon River has been my favourite song since childhood. I especially like this part: Waiting round the bend, my huckleberry friend...</p><p>It must be fantastic to have a "huckleberry" friend waiting round the bend for you. I visualise someone with a backpack waiting for you at an appointed place and time. And once you have arrived, the journey continues, with arms round each other's shoulders (silhouetted against a round, fat moon).</p><p>I didn't manage to catch the 1961 movie "Breakfast at Tiffany's" which featured Moon River as its theme song. It is a romantic comedy and has a happy ending, so I read. But the melody and the lyrics didn't sound that upbeat. In fact it sounds a little sad, to me. Somehow, it brought to mind, the story of a loyal dog waiting at the station for his master to return day after day... The master of course, could not, having died in the war.</p><p>Poor huckleberry friend. </p><p><br /></p>Lo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358093583999571079.post-90107708160767506222022-07-09T11:26:00.000-07:002022-07-09T11:26:10.036-07:00COVID-19 funnies: No. 3<p> Me (masked): Shui jiao mian ta.</p><p>Hawker (masked): Ha?</p><p>Me: SHUI JIAO MIAN TA... dabao.</p><p>Hawker: Chilli?</p><p>Me: Ha?</p><p>Hawker: CHILLI?</p><p>Finally went home with my noodles. Opened packet and to my dismay, it was feng jiao mian (phoenix leg aka chicken leg noodles). Alamak.</p>Lo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358093583999571079.post-83481777792197957452022-07-08T13:10:00.000-07:002022-07-08T13:10:24.969-07:00COVID-19 funnies: No. 2<p> One of the best jokes WhatsApped to me during lockdown last year:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOK69iWBwcxjbXPctHlr80kvV9w1FyEtVNqJ2b8vtP59fjpRUSvBgQ2kWqUnGkZZ4nJDQc088Yic_85zW1ihKKwU0v2ZO-N30HNIKUjsIB7_sy2yEmy2mMtXwVHZ0MwFmZAKhOD4K-kulaTGv71yGn6B4h7ivGpiSkaZalg6Ea460wwvYZ-3C251w/s1024/joke.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="947" data-original-width="1024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOK69iWBwcxjbXPctHlr80kvV9w1FyEtVNqJ2b8vtP59fjpRUSvBgQ2kWqUnGkZZ4nJDQc088Yic_85zW1ihKKwU0v2ZO-N30HNIKUjsIB7_sy2yEmy2mMtXwVHZ0MwFmZAKhOD4K-kulaTGv71yGn6B4h7ivGpiSkaZalg6Ea460wwvYZ-3C251w/w433-h400/joke.jpg" width="433" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Lo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358093583999571079.post-18808395879883644202022-07-07T12:31:00.003-07:002022-07-07T12:32:57.779-07:00Covid-19 funnies: No. 1<p> I guess the funniest thing that happened to me during the pandemic was in 2020 - can't exactly remember when - but I think early part of the year. A time mostly filled with anxiety. I made myself a breakfast of chicken noodles (from a chicken dish leftover from the day before). Then I settled down to watch YouTube. Then I bit on a piece of tiny bone that broke a bridge. </p><p>A few frantic calls to my dentist and I was finally on the dentist's chair. There was a brief conversation that went:</p><p>Me: "Must take out mask, right?" </p><p>Dentist: "I also wish you don't have to."</p><p><br /></p>Lo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358093583999571079.post-74654015795028597912020-01-25T17:43:00.001-08:002020-01-25T17:43:35.577-08:00Cake fit only for kitchen god<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizvdfmQbSLRu2pegzMmiaA2bg62sYwqCl_N78_qe7Ze5b2hrPYQvS1KyeUKvkogbim0oOEBTSBv4HhHfhD_wxewuEtZmHhv1annjNd12eCzFY3OZogsVa9xym1Xf3_PkZt5J0ycNV2V1c/s1600/20200126_085118-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1451" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizvdfmQbSLRu2pegzMmiaA2bg62sYwqCl_N78_qe7Ze5b2hrPYQvS1KyeUKvkogbim0oOEBTSBv4HhHfhD_wxewuEtZmHhv1annjNd12eCzFY3OZogsVa9xym1Xf3_PkZt5J0ycNV2V1c/s640/20200126_085118-1.jpg" width="634" /></a></div>
<br />
Look at this sticky mess... I was trying to replicate the panfried nian gao (年 糕 or New Year cake) of childhood -- slices of nian gao dipped in beaten egg and fried. But the nian gao sold these days are only meant for the kitchen god -- so awfully sticky and sweeeeeeeeeet.<br />
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It will definitely seal his mouth when he reports to the jade emperor of any misdoings of this household. His ascent from your stove to heaven is supposed to take place a week before the Chinese New Year -- according to Chinese beliefs of olden days. But it is definitely not for human consumption, not when health gurus are advocating zero sugar consumption. Whatever, it is way too sticky and sweet for my liking.<br />
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When we were kids, mum would fry nian gao on the first day of the Chinese New Year for our breakfast. It was the highlight of the day. All members of the family would be wrapped in utter bliss till lunch, when more bliss followed as the bak-cham gai (Cantonese for poached chicken) literally flew from the kitchen to the table -- with whoever carrying the dish running at top speed.<br />
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The nian gao of those days wasn't at all sticky, as you can cleanly slice them into neat pieces. And they were not overly sweet. So what's with the modern day nian gao which was impossible to cut -- and eat? All I can say, in Cantonese, is: "Chay, deow jaw ker!" Which means "shucks, throw it away!"<br />
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<a name='more'></a>Lo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358093583999571079.post-65052193506671276932019-12-19T16:13:00.002-08:002019-12-19T16:13:56.391-08:00The underground singerShe has been busking at the underground link from Isetan to Tang's -- for the longest time. But she doesn't seem to have aged a bit. Guess that's what passion does to one's face.<br />
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She does a great rendition of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah. That never fails to get me digging for my wallet. Not sympathy, but an appreciation for her talent. Wonder how Bird on a Wire would sound like -- through her voice. I have heard her doing Judy Collins' Both Sides Now too. Good.<br />
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Actually, there's another guy at the other corner of the undergound. He accompanies himself on the accordion. He's been there for the longest time too. He's not too bad.<br />
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But I prefer the lady on the other side :) No offence.<br />
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Come Christmas, I hope their suitcases get filled up -- with bucks of appreciation.Lo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358093583999571079.post-16726547387136731652019-09-08T17:38:00.002-07:002019-09-08T17:45:54.942-07:00The postmanThe postman was a very important person in my life -- when there would be letters replyig to job applications, exam result slips, exciting letters from friends overseas, sometimes even a parcel (!) -- compared to the mostly bills of today. Well, actually he or she is still an important person today but I can't place a face to any of them as I hardly bump into them.<br />
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In my childhood days, the postman would be dressed in khaki-coloured uniform, riding a red bicycle. He would crashed onto our gate (maybe his brake wasn't working too well, and there was a little slope from the road to the gate) and slot the letters into our letterbox. He would then ring his bell to alert us to collect the mail (as though the "crash" wasn't loud enough) before he back his bike out -- and crash into the next gate. Delivery was twice a day, around 11am and 4pm, if I remember rightly.<br />
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If there were registered mail, he would let himself in through the side gate and gave us a surprise by suddenly appearing at the window, peering in. Spotting one of us, he would grin and hand us the registered mail and a receipt to be signed. On hot days, mum would ask me to offer him a cold drink. He would thank us profusely, mopping his brows.<br />
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At times when there were no letters for us or for our neighbours, you could see him soaring down the road, probably enjoying the breeze in his face. I had never seen a woman postman though, in my childhood.<br />
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Nowadays, there are quite a few woman postmen. In fact, those whom I have seen at my block, inserting etters into boxes with much alacrity, were all women. And of course, they don't ride bicycles anymore.<br />
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Here's a song we learnt in primary school, in celebration of our hardworking postmen:<br />
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<i>I like to be a postman</i><br />
<i>I wake up with the sun</i><br />
<i>And on my back</i><br />
<i>I'd carry my sack</i><br />
<i>And onwards</i><br />
<i>I would go</i>Lo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358093583999571079.post-38259330656708420282019-09-06T18:44:00.003-07:002019-09-06T18:44:44.167-07:00The cat who loves fresh laundry<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS0nCvxPrBOn8kbJ9r3puuVLqvNE2WIsZOqhbwz981cGt5DRKJnR8hNrSgcp1D9xWPqOZMB5mxWaLALKB3wJulW_fpfujd6YzWJcMDHatDInqr9LPHxH5Fm5qw67F-2XShx42LJVDKZAA/s1600/20190907_091800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS0nCvxPrBOn8kbJ9r3puuVLqvNE2WIsZOqhbwz981cGt5DRKJnR8hNrSgcp1D9xWPqOZMB5mxWaLALKB3wJulW_fpfujd6YzWJcMDHatDInqr9LPHxH5Fm5qw67F-2XShx42LJVDKZAA/s640/20190907_091800.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I must rub my hair on all these nice, clean laundry....</td></tr>
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<br />
The moment I dump the content of my laundry basket onto the bed after a trip from the washing machine, guess who will be lolling on them. Never fails to happen. Only clean laundry, mind you, not dirty ones before washing.Lo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358093583999571079.post-51120670391021251512019-09-04T22:53:00.000-07:002019-09-04T22:53:06.908-07:00Lost keysTwice, I saw them -- resting on the bus stop seat -- forlornly. Both times, people were sitting respectfully about a foot away from the keys, with expressions that said "Nope, not mine." The first time, at the bus stop near the Zion Road food centre, it was a singular key with no chain or anything else attached (looked to me like a house key, oh dear). The second time, at the bus stop near my house, it was a bunch, including something that looked like a key to a cabinet.<br />
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What do you do with them? Take them to the nearest police station? But would they find their owners? I had vision of the police testing the key on all the households in the vicinity and finally exclaiming, "Aha! This one fits! Yoohoo, come and get your lost key, ye occupant of the house!"<br />
<br />
Maybe should take the key and place an ad in the papers: "Please claim your key from.... Found at..."<br />
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The elderly couple who was seated at the Zion Road bus stop said wisely, "Leave it here. The owner may come back and look for it."<br />
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Anyway, it is always better to lose a key than to lose a wallet. You can always call the locksmith. Some are on service 24 hours. But they charge a bomb.Lo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358093583999571079.post-77685245824499052522018-11-13T13:51:00.001-08:002018-11-15T15:57:04.402-08:00Service!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-PayY40ZWgk-MN19U6Ic11UWaOgrlhqDXcUh2EnoH6QMpIzY32oYCLNk3dlunBzCgrUa4k30LZhoDZS0c9iO7e3v3d8xPK-vRF4iOI5z2hkiwf1cJHWs-mTVdd3zIt_5kc8hX0a_0kMc/s1600/20181113_224535-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-PayY40ZWgk-MN19U6Ic11UWaOgrlhqDXcUh2EnoH6QMpIzY32oYCLNk3dlunBzCgrUa4k30LZhoDZS0c9iO7e3v3d8xPK-vRF4iOI5z2hkiwf1cJHWs-mTVdd3zIt_5kc8hX0a_0kMc/s640/20181113_224535-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Singer, actor, entrepreneur...Chef Nic. His kitchen is one of the most delightful places on earth. Creativity and re-engineering is the name of his game. His determination though, must be the biggest factor. </td></tr>
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WHEN watching Chef Nic on YouTube, I always look forward to hearing Nicholas Tse's "service!" as yet another dish in his kitchen is ready to roll.<br />
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No other chefs I know (in cooking shows which I have watched) say this with such an air of confidence and authority -- even the way he slams the service bell -- is unique.<br />
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I am talking about the son of Hong Kong star Patrick Tse, who has his own cook shows. I am a great fan of the father and watched all his movies on YouTube. Now in his 80s, he still holds his charms. But I must say his son absolutely beats him in this department, and I guess in many other departments as well.<br />
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It's such a pity that McDonald's doesn't sell his designer burgers here. And one can't find Chef Nic's packet noodles here as well, alas! And worst of all, one can't find his cooking shows on TV here except on YouTube -- and most of those are bits and pieces -- precious excerpts :(<br />
<br />
But still, am so glad the kind folks uploaded them. An interesting aspects of the series is the Chef taking his celebrity guests through a gamut of experiences all over the world weathering sun, snow, slush, rain -- the works. Too bad, Nicholas' Chinese name being Ting Fung (which in Cantonese sounds like "stop wind") -- sun, rain or snow is outside his jurisdiction -- as he used to joke in the shows.<br />
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A sense of humour, a very important ingredient too. Cheers, Chef!<br />
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My earlier post on the father: <a href="https://bitspiece.blogspot.com/2015/06/something-about-patrick-tse.html">https://bitspiece.blogspot.com/2015/06/something-about-patrick-tse.html</a>Lo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358093583999571079.post-64182875648235931232018-08-29T23:00:00.000-07:002018-08-29T23:00:17.391-07:00Pearl of a hill<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlARwp_seGqGcLJ0fBz7qEWz5DBYQHXZ2JMIgAeux1NiSMWMvdRm003tHbLy8hUYShr9EBvtjLYl4mpLFI1APE8RUP4yGZk2AEVrNYhlgi2c5A5V1pyg3I5bgVq0IKuyNNe3iDHLDQLnw/s1600/20180827_104054+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="961" data-original-width="1600" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlARwp_seGqGcLJ0fBz7qEWz5DBYQHXZ2JMIgAeux1NiSMWMvdRm003tHbLy8hUYShr9EBvtjLYl4mpLFI1APE8RUP4yGZk2AEVrNYhlgi2c5A5V1pyg3I5bgVq0IKuyNNe3iDHLDQLnw/s640/20180827_104054+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On a cool evening, it may be very nice to sit here and watch the home bound traffic below. In days of yore, you might perhaps be able to see the Chinese Pauper Hospital (which was moved to Balestier and became Tan Tock Seng Hospital), the Seamen's Hospital which moved to Kendang Kerbau -- and Outram Prison which wasn't demolished till the late 1960s to make way for Outram Park which was in turn pulled down, along with the <i>char kway teow</i> stall that everyone loved. </td></tr>
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Pearl's Hill is one hill I have never climbed until recently. I have climbed almost all the hills in Singapore, from Bukit Batok, Bukit Timah to Mt Faber -- but I have never been to Pearl's.<br />
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It was not at all difficult, a mere 147 ft. (It used to be higher but the top was sliced off with the help of Chinese coolies because there was fear that the enemies might attack Fort Canning from Pearl's Hill as it overlooked the fort). So, all it needed was plain walking. I took the path from where the old Police HQ used to be in Chinatown.<br />
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I was almost at the top when a strange figure in the distance grabbed my attention. He seemed to be doing some kind of strange exercise which reminded me of the gait of a <i>dang-ki </i>(Chinese temple medium) -- swaying from side to side. This guy was in exercise gear and even had a Good Morning towel round his neck -- so I thought he was probably practising some newfangled walking exercise.<br />
<br />
Then he stopped and definitely did a Monkey God pose -- I have seen many mediums doing this when they were seemingly possessed by this deity. I quickly side stepped to let him pass and he proceeded to sway peacefully on his way.<br />
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Maybe it was indeed a new form of workout. These days who knows.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6nyKxNarxFNyPXrZG_T7F2qehMmFgmDG3Cdb_cCmVjB2IcO-wiv7UAmRVFwclAoOhjfuq4IQ5jFVL-sdpSwI6ag53U8CsHEZEAVfu4u8cDdUl5cxebA1FZWWdgoGZ9zr9SeZnCwyCzhw/s1600/20180827_104101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="961" data-original-width="1600" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6nyKxNarxFNyPXrZG_T7F2qehMmFgmDG3Cdb_cCmVjB2IcO-wiv7UAmRVFwclAoOhjfuq4IQ5jFVL-sdpSwI6ag53U8CsHEZEAVfu4u8cDdUl5cxebA1FZWWdgoGZ9zr9SeZnCwyCzhw/s640/20180827_104101.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the path that leads to the top where the Pearl's Hill reservoir still provides water to Chinatown. </td></tr>
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Anyway, just a bit of background on <a href="http://eresources.nlb.gov.sg/infopedia/articles/SIP_116_2004-12-14.html" target="_blank">Pearl's Hill. </a>It was owned by Captain James Pearl, commander of Indiana, the ship which carried Raffles to Singapore. In honour of Raffles, Captain Pearl named the hill Mount Stamford. But Captain Pearl decided to name the hill after himself when Raffles got upset with him for acquiring the hill without his consent.<br />
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Just as well, as Pearl's Hill sounds rather nice -- there are so many things in Singapore already named after Raffles.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9p71kvqgC7Kv3RBX_cXlnLKqCWq4hNy1DvtVu2ZI2y7LhRJ5WIucz0LN-dMMTB3PJAthfICT4UXVn4hF6yvotzCgQes_HDsIn5r2b0RNuWi9ve2gG1h0otzZHhWGescVGbGHVyz-mpDM/s1600/20180827_102522-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="961" data-original-width="1600" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9p71kvqgC7Kv3RBX_cXlnLKqCWq4hNy1DvtVu2ZI2y7LhRJ5WIucz0LN-dMMTB3PJAthfICT4UXVn4hF6yvotzCgQes_HDsIn5r2b0RNuWi9ve2gG1h0otzZHhWGescVGbGHVyz-mpDM/s640/20180827_102522-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Preservation is apparently not on the cards for Pearl's Apartments -- probably reduced to rubble soon as a new project is slated to take their place at the foot of Pearl's Hill in 2019. Picture taken from Keong Saik Road, August 2018. The Sri Layan Sithi Vinayagar Temple, a vastly popular temple for all races and tourists, is in the foreground.</td></tr>
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<br />Lo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358093583999571079.post-81068678352935386822018-06-08T20:27:00.002-07:002018-06-08T20:56:44.804-07:00Who's that elephant running along the corridor?<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQNGD__JFgAwDYnPrVr151z7IM3IpQN4PGYeJf8YRhaR1QDf_bLrahxsYlSXvAZDJScPTCJg1OOvdKLfK3vV1vOtc12Kc_DnavNEFeVyHx5xSbt0D-LEyqzTXOlqn79o2i0TCkFaBh3o/s1600/20180524_091937-1+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1009" data-original-width="1600" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQNGD__JFgAwDYnPrVr151z7IM3IpQN4PGYeJf8YRhaR1QDf_bLrahxsYlSXvAZDJScPTCJg1OOvdKLfK3vV1vOtc12Kc_DnavNEFeVyHx5xSbt0D-LEyqzTXOlqn79o2i0TCkFaBh3o/s640/20180524_091937-1+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was what my primary school looked like. Schools are no longer built like this. Signboard pointing to this building says MOE Adventure Training School but it doesn't look like this building is in use.<br />
Picture taken out of a bus window. <br />
(May 2018).<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">MY old primary school, Serangoon Garden South School looks pretty much like this -- three storeys with nice long corridors for running up and down when waiting for the bell to ring. Teachers would pop their heads out of the saloon doors to ask who was that elephant outside? (The doors were made of wood and painted a light blue -- and yes, they did swing.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">And on the top floor, right at the end of the corridor, was Nature Corner. The most exciting thing here was a snake in a bottle. There were some dried up insects of course. But the snake in its murky bath was what we always wanted to see when we ran up to Nature Corner.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The canteen was on one end of the ground floor with long wooden benches for seats and long tables with tops protected by metal sheets for easy cleaning. My favourite food was a small bowl of fish ball noodles (plump yellow ones) laced in ketchup, with a small bowl of soup on the side. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">My other favourite food was mee siam -- the dry sort with very little gravy -- sold by an Indian who was so skinny that they said he was actually lifted up from the floor a few inches when strong wind blew.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Another favourite food was ice popsicles. After you finished it, you could use the stick to draw patterns on the sand patch near the canteen. This small patch was not intended as a play area. Somehow no grass was able to grow here -- so it became a sandy patch. But it was great for playing tit tat toe using ice cream sticks to draw the notch and crosses.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">A grass field separated Serangoon Garden South School from Serangoon Garden North School. There was some invisible division I think. It was a thrill to cross this "line" -- as there were talks that if you were caught "on the other side" you would be hauled off to the principal of the "other side" and then you "will gena".</span></div>
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<br />Lo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358093583999571079.post-7477383799252119062018-04-24T22:14:00.002-07:002018-04-24T22:14:31.441-07:00The egg beater<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi22eATtmyMbZzSBO3PGdYjj-9PYsrrE20L5McpaIdhyphenhyphenDsVtmXxSGQln2pzK3VZ5v1qvCXIS_sQ6Zuk73IJZxdzE_7K1nFrstI7AjzvR0QKJGKvW14EqdFmNvh3gnnSbHzeWocsrnlGaa0/s1600/20180425_103217-1+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1123" data-original-width="1535" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi22eATtmyMbZzSBO3PGdYjj-9PYsrrE20L5McpaIdhyphenhyphenDsVtmXxSGQln2pzK3VZ5v1qvCXIS_sQ6Zuk73IJZxdzE_7K1nFrstI7AjzvR0QKJGKvW14EqdFmNvh3gnnSbHzeWocsrnlGaa0/s640/20180425_103217-1+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the process of making a souffle pancake. You have to whisk the egg white till peaks form, i.e. when you turn the bowl over your head, nothing drips.</td></tr>
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BACK in the days of my childhood, the "tock-tock-tock" sound of pounding chili and belacan was not all that common. At least not in my household. It was more the sound of "flop-flop-flop" -- that of the spring egg whisk working very hard.<br />
<br />
My mum was into making cakes. We weren't always that successful. Our old oven was not able to heat up evenly. Often, you get only one side of the cake well risen. You had to open the oven door after a while to turn the cake around so that the other side would rise as well. This needed precise timing. Too early, the cake would just sink when you open the oven door.<br />
<br />
More often than not, our cakes were lop sided. Cakes which never rose also happened once in a while. These were fed to the stray skinny black dog which foraged our dustbin regularly. He always lapped them down with great gusto.<br />
<br />
I was the chief egg beater, a task I enjoyed very much. The whisk we had was a giant one with a huge spring and red wooden handle. You flop it up and down on the eggs and sugar mixture till they are white in colour and quite firm in texture. Then you sieve in the flour and melted butter.<br />
<br />
These days, it is rather hard to find such a whisk. More common are the ones shown in the picture. Most people use the electric egg beater of course, which gets your egg whites to peak within minutes. <br />
<br />
But I don't own one and much prefer to hand whisk -- preferably one with a huge spring and red wooden handle.Lo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358093583999571079.post-61870053009902808032018-04-07T23:27:00.001-07:002018-04-07T23:27:43.060-07:00House on Mt Faber slope<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzeMUfQn9AfO44VChakdNoLflPRV21eYS-gVw5VTizJrpwmkhVmxtlrEKftYUbYIEMVUhpoXvmWczwh1IXfJIncpTpOddkDRro_l9IGV5AdOmFTNVOKjtW8a9DHKlnDZAGfglsfwm9_rk/s1600/house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1253" data-original-width="1600" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzeMUfQn9AfO44VChakdNoLflPRV21eYS-gVw5VTizJrpwmkhVmxtlrEKftYUbYIEMVUhpoXvmWczwh1IXfJIncpTpOddkDRro_l9IGV5AdOmFTNVOKjtW8a9DHKlnDZAGfglsfwm9_rk/s640/house.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anyone home? One of the two "mysterious" bungalows I see on my left each time I clamber up Marang trail.</td></tr>
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I always stop to see whether there's any thing happening inside or around this house when I clamber up Marang trail. Anyway, it's always time to take a breather after climbing all those steps. (According to a write up I found online, Marang trail which leads up to Mt Faber, is about seven storeys high. So this spot here must be about four storeys high according to my own estimation).<br />
<br />
But each time, I saw absolutely nothing, no matter how hard I peered. No one hanging out the laundry or such homely acts. Except for once when I saw a very busy grass cutter clearing the lawn in front of the house.<br />
<br />
Much of the view of the house was obstructed by trees, being nestled on a slope of Mt Faber. There's another house lower down the slope but it is even more hidden by the thick foliage.<br />
<br />
I wonder how the occupants (if any) go in and out of these houses. Surely, they didn't have to bash through all those undergrowth each time they want to go to the market.<br />
<br />
Recently I seemed to see something being constructed though I couldn't really decipher what in the world it was. And today, I saw the construction was done and it seemed to me to be a little bridge! Can't be sure though.<br />
<br />
More updates next time I go up Marang :)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ8QHN4i5WEXmyl6mANeQxQgNE04K4PYxkvNA8t6boNfROCGlBfmjLPQagLZDUbiSF8OjE0AOJYE61d1IS2DnIDfY_RzZdnD1F7mH8V8gTkCaNbzuWC1Mbn2dA2XnqoU6DFYtNHLCEDUA/s1600/map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ8QHN4i5WEXmyl6mANeQxQgNE04K4PYxkvNA8t6boNfROCGlBfmjLPQagLZDUbiSF8OjE0AOJYE61d1IS2DnIDfY_RzZdnD1F7mH8V8gTkCaNbzuWC1Mbn2dA2XnqoU6DFYtNHLCEDUA/s640/map.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Map showing Marang trail and Mt Faber Park. The "You Are Here" spot is near where my blogger friend, Streetsing emerged from his "Keppel Hill lost reservoir" trek once. </td></tr>
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Just a little note on the first time I heard about Marang trail: A former colleague, just before he resigned, when asked what he was going to do, said he was going to smell some roses first. One of the things he would do was to explore Marang. There are so many things to do in Singapore, he says. No need to travel out of the country. Time flies. That was 12 years ago? <br />
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Of course, one does not have to resign or retire before one goes on this little trip. On weekends, tonnes of people scramble up. It is a wonder the trail doesn't get eroded down to five storeys.<br />
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<br />Lo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358093583999571079.post-42971471863577920782018-01-07T22:25:00.000-08:002018-01-08T04:04:15.599-08:00Desker's gable<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHU0ue-MpFMue2UnKBXlhRAdi2CE0n_QCjsUHAdhhye6Xb7XOtOCl8FGJOAFLIt4nu7cGKFSrqEA9ZqS-T7oWPBHQJepPrrehKdl9mKgYVkSNcbUd3j0JA1DoTywNvJU1pYetnnk9nge4/s1600/20180104_105128+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHU0ue-MpFMue2UnKBXlhRAdi2CE0n_QCjsUHAdhhye6Xb7XOtOCl8FGJOAFLIt4nu7cGKFSrqEA9ZqS-T7oWPBHQJepPrrehKdl9mKgYVkSNcbUd3j0JA1DoTywNvJU1pYetnnk9nge4/s640/20180104_105128+%25281%2529.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gable at Desker Road. Pic taken 4 Jan 2018.</td></tr>
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I haven't been gable hunting for some time in Singapore. But recently I came across this nice one at <a href="http://eresources.nlb.gov.sg/infopedia/articles/SIP_737_2005-01-24.html" target="_blank">Desker Roa</a>d. See, it has a nice design on the side. The steep knob at the tip of the gable suggested wood element or water element.<br />
<br />
In Chinese architecture, the five different shapes of gable ends denote the five elements: wood, fire, metal, water and earth. (Reference: <a href="https://nanyangtemple.wordpress.com/category/2-visiting-guide/" target="_blank">Handy Guide for Appreciating Chinese Architecture)</a>. Apparently, different gable ends were employed to counter the adversity of the land which the houses were seated on.<br />
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The region around Desker Road was once swampland, so the wood element depicted by the gable ends may be used to counter the earth element. (Purely conjecture on my part!)<br />
<br />
Desker Road, with its rich history, was named after a butcher, Andre Filipe Desker, a resident in the area who opened Singapore's largest butchery during the 1860s. BTW, I have great respect for butchers since I was a kid when I trotted to market with mum. The butcher with his blood-splatted white singlet rolled up to his rounded belly, would nearly always slip a bonus piece of pork into the the lot that mum wanted, quietly wrapping them up with newspaper. (Many a times, I would be sent back to the market with the "bonus" as mum insisted that we need to return it to the dear old butcher.)<br />
<br />
Anyway, back to the story of this Desker Road butcher -- he was from Malacca, married in Singapore and eventually had 13 children. He was known for his generous donations to schools and churches.<br />
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<h2 style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; padding: 0.6em 0px 0.5em; position: relative; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b>Old gabes </b>II:<a href="http://bitspiece.blogspot.sg/2014/11/old-gables-ii.html" style="color: #4d469c; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank"> http://bitspiece.blogspot.sg/2014/11/old-gables-ii.html</a></span></h2>
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<h4 style="background-color: #fb5e53; color: #2198a6; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 24px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Old Gables Again: <a href="http://bitspiece.blogspot.sg/2015/06/old-gables-again-along-havelock.html" style="color: #4d469c; text-decoration-line: none;">http://bitspiece.blogspot.sg/2015/06/old-gables-again-along-havelock.html</a></span></h4>
<h4 style="background-color: #fb5e53; color: #2198a6; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 24px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Old Gables: <a href="http://bitspiece.blogspot.sg/2014/06/old-gables.html" style="color: #4d469c; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">http://bitspiece.blogspot.sg/2014/06/old-gables.html</a></span></h4>
Lo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358093583999571079.post-61889877743402514142017-11-02T21:14:00.001-07:002017-11-02T21:20:47.481-07:00Lost child, lost tune<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAyHEJWXCSLVCDB3bKxXceCvoKFkCKfq7Ztf6PHZZEGn5tIdhttqxX25deZ52JBzTJi3qgUDKqv530OGPPINrkWy4X2fvjVMY2bX_Hvuv9JJkOyjDIzDxR9dTuywLPxkFCkIoJens-OdA/s1600/view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAyHEJWXCSLVCDB3bKxXceCvoKFkCKfq7Ztf6PHZZEGn5tIdhttqxX25deZ52JBzTJi3qgUDKqv530OGPPINrkWy4X2fvjVMY2bX_Hvuv9JJkOyjDIzDxR9dTuywLPxkFCkIoJens-OdA/s640/view.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A slope at Fort Canning Park overlooking Liang Court and Clarke Quay. Pic taken 21 Oct opening of the Downtown Line 3.</td></tr>
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ONCE there was a child who was lost here -- long, long ago -- on one of these slopes. Here, at King George the Fifth Park (now known as Fort Canning Park of course).<br />
<br />
My parents, my brother and I were seated on a slope when the announcement of the lost child was made over the loud speaker. There were massive crowds there that day. Maybe it was a fun fair. The loud speaker (the type that looks like a fat trumpet) was blaring out songs after songs.<br />
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I asked my mother what it was all about as the music suddenly stopped and the announcement took over. My mum explained to me, adding that children must behave and stay by their parents' side.<br />
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I kept wondering whether the poor child was found. All the music from the loudspeaker suddenly seemed very sad after that. I still remember one tune because it was a familiar one and played over the radio rather regularly. I later thought it might be Je ta'ime (with snatches on the electric organ) but this French song wasn't written till 1969 when I would be in secondary school. But dad was with us then that day, so I should still be in primary school at that time.<br />
<br />
That tune still plays in my mind sometimes. An elusive tune with no title.<br />
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Today, it is still a very nice walk at Fort Canning. The numerous slopes are as appealing as before. But the River Valley Swimming Pool is gone. The old changing rooms are still there, and the pool has been converted into a playground with slides and swings.<br />
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Also gone of course<a href="https://www.lta.gov.sg/apps/news/page.aspx?c=2&id=5c4e424c-1a46-44cb-92d0-212e37a2b6df." target="_blank">, the National Theatre and the Van Kleef Aquarium</a>,to make possible the construction of the Fort Canning MRT station.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXLtJnFlMnhU95gRGoaPNDuab4lh9oWKi5BBxk66GnZFiMQK9-v5TypocCilVkDdEyJNEVhN_G2x0lsDj8tD5XA43fvfI4XeTLZTG162fqunGb042AyExMuA-ON9EchxAcVy_XzTSdYfE/s1600/wall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="958" data-original-width="1198" height="506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXLtJnFlMnhU95gRGoaPNDuab4lh9oWKi5BBxk66GnZFiMQK9-v5TypocCilVkDdEyJNEVhN_G2x0lsDj8tD5XA43fvfI4XeTLZTG162fqunGb042AyExMuA-ON9EchxAcVy_XzTSdYfE/s640/wall.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Interesting walls -- many of them at Fort Canning.</td></tr>
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<br />Lo Tien Yinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373209243311424836noreply@blogger.com2