My favourite "things" in Bishan park:
Here's what I learn (on top of other stuff) at TPY Sensory park - the name of the plant that I see a lot at Bishan park:
Monday, April 20, 2015
New hairstyle
Nothing much happened in the last few weeks, except for a new hair style, and a public holiday morning spent with sweetie at Bishan Park without WK (out of town), and a Sat morning class outing to Toa Payoh Sensory park. Some pictures
My favourite "things" in Bishan park:
Here's what I learn (on top of other stuff) at TPY Sensory park - the name of the plant that I see a lot at Bishan park:
My favourite "things" in Bishan park:
Here's what I learn (on top of other stuff) at TPY Sensory park - the name of the plant that I see a lot at Bishan park:
Monday, April 6, 2015
Picture post - In remembrance
[Had wanted to complete these 3 posts last week, but finally got to do them only now. It's time to move on.]
(I) 27 March, my time with him
I took a screenshot of my phone at Cityhall MRT, to record the start time of my queue
It was a challenge to hold an umbrella in one hand and to take pictures with the other. Most of the pic didn't turn out nice. Here's one, at 4pm, when I'm already physically tired. But this was where I started to sense that I'm getting nearer.
At the security check point outside the parliament house, tribute cards were handed out to those who wanted to drop a line.
The flag at half mask. So solemn and yet so beautiful against the bright blue sky..
(II) 27 - 28 Mar, TYP CC tribute centre
During the weekend before the funeral on Sunday, I went to TPY CC tribute centre 3 times. The first was with WS to drop her tribute card. The second was Saturday afternoon, to drop the tribute card Lynn made and I wrote. I had wanted to go with WS and gang on Sat night, but because Mabel and Matthew were at my home, so I took the opportunity to bring them to pay tribute (as they have not).
(III) 29 Mar
It's finally day 7, the day of the funeral. It was our last chance to say goodbye. Beyond this day, life needs to and will go back to normal.
Despite being at parliament house, despite visiting the tribute centre 3 times, I wanted to be on the streets to bid him goodbye. It started raining in mid morning. A downpour followed, to accompany the nation in sending off their greatest man on his final journey.
(I) 27 March, my time with him
I took a screenshot of my phone at Cityhall MRT, to record the start time of my queue
The selfie that I took which I whatsapp to WS, to let her know that I had reached and had started my (.. what's an appropriate word?)
It was a challenge to hold an umbrella in one hand and to take pictures with the other. Most of the pic didn't turn out nice. Here's one, at 4pm, when I'm already physically tired. But this was where I started to sense that I'm getting nearer.
At the security check point outside the parliament house, tribute cards were handed out to those who wanted to drop a line.
The flag at half mask. So solemn and yet so beautiful against the bright blue sky..
(II) 27 - 28 Mar, TYP CC tribute centre
During the weekend before the funeral on Sunday, I went to TPY CC tribute centre 3 times. The first was with WS to drop her tribute card. The second was Saturday afternoon, to drop the tribute card Lynn made and I wrote. I had wanted to go with WS and gang on Sat night, but because Mabel and Matthew were at my home, so I took the opportunity to bring them to pay tribute (as they have not).
This card will hold special memory for me. When I started writing, as usual I was at a loss as to what to write. Unlike writing a blog which I can use "backspace", I can't afford to write wrongly on a handwritten card. However, I told myself that I do not need to pre-write on a rough paper. I told myself to just pen down what comes to my mind. And out came my uncensored thoughts and feelings..
After I finished, I was quite embarrassed at what was written. I noticed that the pic below can be enlarged to read what was written, so I had wanted not to post it. Then I brought Mabel and the kids to my aunt's place. There, my aunt read my card out aloud. After she read it, I felt a sense of relief. I came to embrace them as my most sincere and genuine parting words to him.
(Note that all typos were corrected after these pictures were taken)
All these cards, notes and flowers, were the citizens' wishes that ours thoughts be with him.
The kids touring the tribute centre. Doing my part for the education of the next generation.
The end product
That night, grandaunt was at grandma's house. 11 of us went to the tribute centre. Grandaunt placed the T shirt on the stage.
(III) 29 Mar
It's finally day 7, the day of the funeral. It was our last chance to say goodbye. Beyond this day, life needs to and will go back to normal.
Despite being at parliament house, despite visiting the tribute centre 3 times, I wanted to be on the streets to bid him goodbye. It started raining in mid morning. A downpour followed, to accompany the nation in sending off their greatest man on his final journey.
In remembrance - my fav tributes
There were many great tributes and eulogies of Mr. Lee shared in social media. It was very assuring when our countrymen showcase such unity. The love we had for him is unpretentious. The sense of gratitude that we exhibited was praise worthy. Here are my 2 favourites.
Stefanie Sun on LKY: My loved ones are testimonials of his legacy
I am a product of the late 1970s. At the edge of Gen X, not quite Gen Y.
Those in my generation have parents who are part of the "grateful old" - a term I coined not to offend, but in recognition of the fact that they had witnessed the transition from what was to what is under the rule of the PAP.
But my peers and I grew up in a different era. We read English literature and watched American sitcoms. For us, leaders are not idolised, change is openly embraced and alternative opinions are often taken to be "cool" and to be a sign that one has personality.
As we entered the workforce, we heard phrases such as "Lee dynasty" and "false democracy".
Suddenly, it was deemed intellectual for one to have another opinion about the man behind the Singapore Story.
Human rights and freedom of the press were pressing issues of the day for my generation - not wealth or capitalism. Mr Nelson Mandela won universal reverence, as did Ms Aung San Suu Kyi. What about Mr Lee Kuan Yew?
In the midst of this, I remembered my father's advice, that I should always strive to have a mind of my own.
I believed it took special insight, otherwise known as wisdom, that comes only with time, to pass judgments or form opinions. More so on a man. I remained circumspect then.
Today, I do not see myself as a direct result of Mr Lee's exceptional accomplishments. I do, however, look to the people whom I love the most as living testimonials of his legacy.
My mother once lived in what was effectively an illegal opium den, but later moved into a beautiful HUDC apartment by working long hours and walking home to save on 25-cent bus trips.
My father washed dishes to pay for his doctoral studies, but later could afford to take us on holidays to Malaysia and, eventually, New Zealand.
Eventually, my son will have a shot at making it to the best university in Asia.
He will be able to afford an HDB flat on his own and will enjoy beautiful greenery and waterways wherever he chooses to work or live in Singapore.
He will not have to worry constantly about air pollution, clean water and two-hour-long traffic jams. And he will be secure in the knowledge that hard work, good ethics and a good education will get him somewhere.
Perhaps these have come to be taken as basic expectations of many of my fellow Singaporeans. But these are needs that I have decided are important to me and my loved ones, now and for the future.
I remember vividly my meetings with Mr Lee. Some were formal and austere, rather quiet and awkward - or at least in my imagination. But there were also fleeting moments of intimate friendliness and genuine warmth.
It was hard to not be in awe of this man. I remember thinking to myself: This must be what it feels like to be a fan.
I remember one incident when we were to be photographed together. As I kept a respectful distance, he impatiently asked me to move closer to him.
Another time, he was in good spirits and asked me jovially who was the lucky man whom I was married to.
I like a smiling Harry. (This is how I address him - a rather rude way, I know, to speak to the founding father of Singapore, and therefore, I do it only in private.)
It felt like a very precious moment for me.
I remember singing his wife's favourite song, Que Sera Sera, at the Business China Awards in 2011, not long after her demise. (Senior Minister of State) Josephine Teo later told me in private that she saw tears in his eyes. That was probably one of my proudest moments as a singer.
In remembrance - my fav tributes
There were many great tributes and eulogies of Mr. Lee shared in social media. It was very assuring when our countrymen showcase such unity. The love we had for him is unpretentious. The sense of gratitude that we exhibited was praise worthy. Here are my 2 favourites.
http://www.businesstimes.com.sg/opinion/lee-kuan-yew-dies/by-gum-the-west-is-wrong-about-Singapore
28 Mar5:50 AM
http://www.businesstimes.com.sg/opinion/lee-kuan-yew-dies/by-gum-the-west-is-wrong-about-Singapore
28 Mar5:50 AM
Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose
- Me & Bobby McGee, Janis Joplin*
IT must be nice to be Western and superior. It must be nice to judge from afar a grieving and poorly understood nation that is often confused with China. As Singapore came to terms this week with the loss of a titan, the country also came under scrutiny, a great deal of which was admiring in a back-handed way.
After Lee Kuan Yew died, The Guardian newspaper devoted an entire article to his policy on chewing gum. Decades of phenomenal GDP growth, the lowest crime rate in the region and top-notch healthcare, and Westerners are still talking about the friggin' chewing gum. This is like being complimented on your English.
And this week, a Telegraph piece called Singapore "proud and prosperous", but could not resist throwing in "somewhat antiseptic". This almost made me regret learning English.
These articles share a churlish and tired subtext, that Singapore is somehow less of a country because it lacks some kind of personality that foreigners expect this part of the world to have.
The Western lexicon for Asia is a funny thing, and I have a real estate agent's relationship with it. When a house is advertised as having "charm", it means that its toilet doesn't work. When a country in this region is lauded for its "charm", it usually means that its people have a touch-and-go relationship with indoor plumbing.
"Quaint" means paddy fields where white-collar jobs should be. "Plenty of character" means the roads are not paved and you get diarrhoea from the ice cubes.
If this is what "charm" is, Singapore does not need it. And if it is handwoven baskets and barefoot children you want to see, go to another country that was not farsighted nor fortunate enough to avoid being charming.
For a long time, Singapore has been denied the gloss treatment other cosmopolitan cities get. Fifth Avenue is worshipped as a glamorous shrine to shopping, but Orchard Road is frequently portrayed as soulless. When outsiders report on Singapore, words like "gleaming" and "spotless" are used as though they were epithets.
Once in New York City, thanks to my dithering, my husband took too long to order a sandwich at Katz's Deli and got snapped at by one of the legendarily ornery servers. "This is Noo Yawk," the server said, as if that explained everything, and it did.
Likewise, this is Singapore. Everyone is in a hurry and they will hold pre-briefings for briefings, a post-briefing after and a break for a cost-benefit analysis. This is Singapore, this is what made it great. This is also why I became a citizen of this country - because I got tired of "charm".
Besides, if anyone has the right to complain about Singapore, it is the Singaporeans. This right, they have exercised as though it were the Second Amendment and they were Americans. According to Mr Lee, the Singaporean is a "champion grumbler". He said this in 1977, so citizens have been practising for at least 38 years.
These days, the complaining is the loudest it has ever been, and some of it doesn't even make sense. Mr Lee's passing has unearthed old chestnuts about the stifling of creativity and freedoms. This grousing was understandable 15 years ago, but who is stopping you from being creative now?
For how long do you intend to blame the spectre of a man before taking responsibility for the limitations of your own mind? What books have you been unable to gain access to, what TV shows have you been unable to BitTorrent and what poorly informed, anonymous comments on the Internet have you been unable to write?
If any party is censorious and forbidding, it is the society we have allowed ourselves to become, one that drives people into hiding in Perth when they've done something we find unacceptable.
Today, the prevailing attitude is miles away from Mr Lee's hard-driving, survivalist one. Now, people want to trade a few percentage points of GDP growth for the balance of work and life, as though work were not part of life. They want a softer approach to this idea of competition or betterment, a more consensual form of governance.
What the people want, the people will eventually get - that is both the beauty and the horror of democracy.
And such has been the earlier success of Singapore that its people have the middle-class wherewithal to demand change, and the government has the resources to provide it.
Like many other migrants, I came here to escape corruption, injustice and water that came out of taps brown in colour. I came here because I understood this to be a place that rewarded industry and ability while tolerating - if not welcoming - extreme dorkiness.
I've had the luxury of being able to mind my own business, largely because the government had minded everyone's. This is not for everyone, I'm sure, and as Singaporeans clamour for more self-determination, they will get it, if only because tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis.
I have my reservations about what this country will become, but as for how it came to be, my appreciation is unequivocal, without qualification and unreserved. Thank you, Mr Lee, for Singapore. There was nothing more you could have done.
- Me & Bobby McGee, Janis Joplin*
IT must be nice to be Western and superior. It must be nice to judge from afar a grieving and poorly understood nation that is often confused with China. As Singapore came to terms this week with the loss of a titan, the country also came under scrutiny, a great deal of which was admiring in a back-handed way.
After Lee Kuan Yew died, The Guardian newspaper devoted an entire article to his policy on chewing gum. Decades of phenomenal GDP growth, the lowest crime rate in the region and top-notch healthcare, and Westerners are still talking about the friggin' chewing gum. This is like being complimented on your English.
And this week, a Telegraph piece called Singapore "proud and prosperous", but could not resist throwing in "somewhat antiseptic". This almost made me regret learning English.
These articles share a churlish and tired subtext, that Singapore is somehow less of a country because it lacks some kind of personality that foreigners expect this part of the world to have.
The Western lexicon for Asia is a funny thing, and I have a real estate agent's relationship with it. When a house is advertised as having "charm", it means that its toilet doesn't work. When a country in this region is lauded for its "charm", it usually means that its people have a touch-and-go relationship with indoor plumbing.
"Quaint" means paddy fields where white-collar jobs should be. "Plenty of character" means the roads are not paved and you get diarrhoea from the ice cubes.
If this is what "charm" is, Singapore does not need it. And if it is handwoven baskets and barefoot children you want to see, go to another country that was not farsighted nor fortunate enough to avoid being charming.
For a long time, Singapore has been denied the gloss treatment other cosmopolitan cities get. Fifth Avenue is worshipped as a glamorous shrine to shopping, but Orchard Road is frequently portrayed as soulless. When outsiders report on Singapore, words like "gleaming" and "spotless" are used as though they were epithets.
Once in New York City, thanks to my dithering, my husband took too long to order a sandwich at Katz's Deli and got snapped at by one of the legendarily ornery servers. "This is Noo Yawk," the server said, as if that explained everything, and it did.
Likewise, this is Singapore. Everyone is in a hurry and they will hold pre-briefings for briefings, a post-briefing after and a break for a cost-benefit analysis. This is Singapore, this is what made it great. This is also why I became a citizen of this country - because I got tired of "charm".
Besides, if anyone has the right to complain about Singapore, it is the Singaporeans. This right, they have exercised as though it were the Second Amendment and they were Americans. According to Mr Lee, the Singaporean is a "champion grumbler". He said this in 1977, so citizens have been practising for at least 38 years.
These days, the complaining is the loudest it has ever been, and some of it doesn't even make sense. Mr Lee's passing has unearthed old chestnuts about the stifling of creativity and freedoms. This grousing was understandable 15 years ago, but who is stopping you from being creative now?
For how long do you intend to blame the spectre of a man before taking responsibility for the limitations of your own mind? What books have you been unable to gain access to, what TV shows have you been unable to BitTorrent and what poorly informed, anonymous comments on the Internet have you been unable to write?
If any party is censorious and forbidding, it is the society we have allowed ourselves to become, one that drives people into hiding in Perth when they've done something we find unacceptable.
Today, the prevailing attitude is miles away from Mr Lee's hard-driving, survivalist one. Now, people want to trade a few percentage points of GDP growth for the balance of work and life, as though work were not part of life. They want a softer approach to this idea of competition or betterment, a more consensual form of governance.
What the people want, the people will eventually get - that is both the beauty and the horror of democracy.
And such has been the earlier success of Singapore that its people have the middle-class wherewithal to demand change, and the government has the resources to provide it.
Like many other migrants, I came here to escape corruption, injustice and water that came out of taps brown in colour. I came here because I understood this to be a place that rewarded industry and ability while tolerating - if not welcoming - extreme dorkiness.
I've had the luxury of being able to mind my own business, largely because the government had minded everyone's. This is not for everyone, I'm sure, and as Singaporeans clamour for more self-determination, they will get it, if only because tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis.
I have my reservations about what this country will become, but as for how it came to be, my appreciation is unequivocal, without qualification and unreserved. Thank you, Mr Lee, for Singapore. There was nothing more you could have done.
- This piece originally appeared on Miss Ann Thrope, a blog on The Business Times website. For more, visit btd.sg/missannthrope
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