Fashion Focus

Shall I ...

... go all girlie in silver Christmas tree earrings, flowery sundress, and Audrey Hepburnesque red shoes?

... defy all sartorial logic in an unseasonal White lace kebaya-inspired top, a black latex singlet, black skinnies I got from the Bercham market and red shoes?

...or channel Katy Perry in RM3 Esprit factory overrun shorts, black Pack Promod singlet & RM10 Thailand black knit top

Ah. Which girl isn't clothes mad?

Mixing and matching is more than just riding the residual buzz of retail therapy; it's the whole theatricality of the act, like orchestrating my own boutique theatre production.

I love the heightened drama as I clack out of the house in my three-inch heels; the contagious playfulness that colours my mood when I flounce out in my riotous bohemian skirt; garments are not just something to shield me from cold or immodesty, don't you see?

When I was a kid, I practically gobbled up fashion magazines.

Many an afternoon was spent, bent over the fashion pages, while my fingers lovingly traced the clean lines of a box-like shift while the mind marvelled at the fluidity of jersey wrap dresses.

So much so, I became extraordinarily well acquainted with fashion parlance.

I could recite from memory the subtle differences between silk brocade and silk jacquard.

I could reel off the entire spectrum of hues (crimson, fuschia, magenta, vermillion, scarlet ....) with such authority my science teaccher would surely beam with pride.

I was, and still am, a clothes fiend to a T (... or should it be T-shirt? :))

Ergo, what assignment could be more fun than traipsing through the yummiest fashion boutiques ever invented? :)

Dreams from a hot wok

Scratching Post, Weekender, The Star

To read the full article, please click here

Anyone can dream. You don't need balls to do that.

But to actualize that dream takes plenty of guts - and grit. Stuff which Tam has truckloads of.

I've eaten at and known Tam for years. Enjoyed his food, and then later his company, and went on to develop an abiding admiration for his quiet, unassuming ways.

That's the man! :)

There are many reasons why I like going to Tam.

He's just downstairs (i.e. opposite Super Tanker, opens from 6-ish in the evening to 2am)

He's always ready with a smile for me (yes, even through those Sars-struck days)

... and of course, when inspired, his food is Tam's up (sorry, couldn't resist! :D)

Sometimes our conversations resemble chicken-and-duck talk - he speaks in a thick loghat that my bunny ears have occasional trouble unscrambling. Nevertheless their musical quaintness never fail to charm, even his smses:

Like today, "Saya x pandai BI tapi fahamla sikit nanti ptg sy suroh kwn terjemah dkt sy."

"Suroh?" So quaint! So old-school!

Or the other day, "Awak cakap buat saya ketawa hingga berguling. Apapun TQ. BZ ni pelanggan ramai nak masak dlu"

Is it just me, or is it a lot more fun to sms in BM? :)

One of my earliest food pieces, published in 2005 or 6

If you're wondering what sar kok liew is ...

This is it!

Or saa kot. Oh well. Saa kot, sar kok liew - a liew by any other name is still damn drool-inducing.

Best eaten dipped in this tangy and spicy home-made chilli sauce.

Drum roll...Chips off the old block. The Gen X Loo brothers, who took over the reins from their parents, will surely do them proud.

To ensure you don't get lost ;)

Got. To. Stop.

Experiencing. Serious. Sar kok liew. Withdrawal. Symptoms.

Now.

Travelling Light

Trivial Pursuit, Weekender, 28th November 2009

To read the full article, please click here

Long before there was ever a Navel Gazer column, travel stories were my stock-in trade.

Fresh out of corporate hell, my feet were itchy to explore the uncharted universe beyond my tiny factory cubicle.

Kuching - or to be exact, Ran, the charming town I got my first taste of longhouse living - ignited my wanderlust.

Then came Turkey, IMHO the most beautiful country on earth.

The mother of all vacations was my seven whopping weeks in California of course.

I got to know my mum better.

I got to interview the hottest guys on the planet up close (and got my butt grabbed by one to haha)

And most of all, I learnt that you didn't always need a fortune to enjoy the simple pleasures of life.

My most memorable meal in the US (though don't tell my aunt that!) was the USD2-3 chicken nuggets MUm & I ate at a Popeyes outlet. The cashier peered at our identitiy card with curiosity. "Oh, Malaysia ...I've heard of it.. but not too sure where it is though," she laughed sheepishly.

Uh huh. Looks like our tourism folks still have some distance to cover, when it comes to putting our country on the world map. ;)

I've always had wanderlust.

My first major overseas trip was to a town in Southern Thailand called Yala, where I stayed with a Thai family for two weeks. I wolfed down lots of spicy local food, went round helmet-free on on my hostess' scooter and ate towering sundaes in the town's biggest hotel. Pure bliss :)

Writing this article - a light, breezy change from my usual introspective stock-in-trade - reminded me just how much I miss travelling, and writing about my travels.

Keep your fingers crossed.

If all the planets and stars align, there should be some major globe-trotting on the cards in 2010 ;)

Oh btw peeps, in case you're wondering, here are some crude shots of my "Umbrella bag" and "Adidas kampung" :)

Soaring passions

First person, Going Places, October 2009

For this particular gig, I had to interview six outstanding sports personalities from MAS.

Did somebody just say sports?

Yours truly was a classic kaki bangku. Way back in Form Two, my maiden volleyball serve landed on the head of my classmate Pooi Pooi. I don't know if she recovered fully from the trauma, but I certainly never did. Was it any coincidence that I never had many sporting friends?

Naturally, when the time came, I was filled with excitement, curiosity and not a little trepidation.

What could a writer have in common with a bunch of sportspersons?

Mental strength

Since the interview with Foo Kah Hin took place at a shooting range, I had to find out if I was a, ahem, hot shot.

Once I actually had the gun in my grip, I was calm as still water.

"Ready?" Foo asked in a calm, clear voice. "Now pull the trigger. Slowly. Make it a slow, sustained movement."

Bam!

I tottered unsteadily backwards, more surprised by the relatively tame aftermath, than anything else. No shells flew backwards. The gun jerked back only slightly. Did I miss very wide of the target?

We scurried up to the cardboard target.

There was a hole barely an inch away from the centre of the Alpha Zone. "You are a good shot!" Foo declared.

It must have been a fluke. Beginner's luck. I asked for another turn.

Bam. Bam. I was cool and collected all three times, and I was on target all three times.

Foo had said, "In dynamic shooting, mental strength is as important as physical... like other competitive sports, it is important to keep a clear head and think positive thoughts. It is even more critical in an open competition where you face off against teams from varying backgrounds and superior skill sets."

I decided to retire at my peak i.e. after three shots - hey I don't want to blemish my perfect record ok - and spent the rest of the afternoon picking the brains of the boys, who are more than happy to initiate this neophyte into their world: shotgun, handgun, rifle, winchester, holster, magazine, etc.

Character building

Over the phone, John Engkatesoo had alerted me to expect a "fat, old chap with a big tummy" at a football field to do a shoot.

He was obviously being modest, for he was anything BUT fat. In fact, as I told the photographer later, he looks pretty hot for a guy his age. A healthy crop of salt and pepper curls tops a rangy frame which he modestly tries to pass off as 5' 9" when he's "at least a 5' 11'", I tell him accusingly.

John's only response was a toothy grin. It's not hard to see why he had a legion of fans during his heydays.

After the shoot was over, we adjourned to A & W, where he regaled me with vignettes of his action-packed life, from his short-lived but glorious days as an international footballer, to his invariable foray into the corporate world, which was no less exciting. Football didn't just teach him how to kick a ball around - he learnt about dealing with people, and being a team player, all of which came in handy when he eventually assumed his current position.

Needless to say, my root beer float was all but forgotten.

Grace by example

Devan Dinasan is more than an ace road runner or spitting image of Chow Yun Fatt.

We met up for lunch one time after the shoot. It was raining on the day. When he saw me walking out from the exit, he alighted from his car, unfurled an umbrella and started walking towards me.The last time somebody did that was last century.

"Hey I am not puteri lilin ok?" I said in reflex, as he shielded me from the light rain during the short dash into his car. Two seconds later, he floored me again, by opening the car door.

When I thanked him for this random act of chivalry later, he responded, "The umbrella needs to get wet sometimes and the car door ...no big deal ... it was already there, and can be a little heavy to open to those not familiar ."

Now that's what I call true sportsmanship.

To Devan, John, Foo, Yati, Captain Arif and Captain Aziz, I salute you for inspiring even kaki bangkus like me to reach for the impossible.

For showing me that we're not very different from each other. Writer or sportsperson, we're all creatures of passion.

Every time we jump off a cliff, walk into the roaring stadium, brace for that swing, aim for that impossible shot, break into that stride or, in my case, pick up that pen, it's like falling in love all over again.

In the meantime, I do believe I have an open invitation to redeem. Anybody game for a spot of paragliding?

PS Pei Ling, thanks for helping Ms Photoshop Idiot with the collage :)

Naughty pupils make good teachers

Scratching Post, Weekender, 26th September 2009

To read the full article, please click here

In school, I was known as the goody-two-shoes. The geek. The (cringe) teacher's pet.

Little did everybody know, I longed to be anything BUT. I harboured a burning desire to be the coolest girl in school, a girl like Sharmila.

Some (misguided) teachers might have labelled her naughty, but to me, she was a heroine. A tad rebellious. Witty as hell. But always brave. All the qualities I aspired to.

Obviously I couldn't be her. So what was the next best thing?

To be with her, of course. Form 2 and 3, the two years I spent a lot of time with her and the ZOPFAN gang (you know who you are) were two of my happiest.

Judging from the responses I received, this story struck quite a few chords, though the only person's response that I was worried about was the story's heroine - Sharmila.

I've written about heaps of people in the past. The difference is, they knew of my intentions. I usually forewarned them at least a day before the article was due to come out.

In Sharmila's case, I wanted to surprise her. Consider it a revenge for calling me "Dangerous."

"She's going to freak out," my ex-colleague Poh See hooted with laughter.

I send Sharmila an sms first thing in the morning. No reply. At 8-ish am, an hour I deem suitably decent, I call her. "Have you read?"

"Dei," she growls in a sleep-slurred voice. "I got your earlier sms already. I am not so fast wei. I just got up lah. You think I'm superhero ah dei."

10am. 11am. 12 noon. Already, five readers have written to me. Not a word from her.

I text Chang. "Could she be angry? So long also no response one."

"She is probably busy at her husband's clinic. Remember, teacher by day, clerk by night, and sexy wife at midnight."

"Cannot be. Today is Saturday and a holiday. "

"Holiday means data entry girl the whole day. What I see is only praises. She might be crying her heart now, touched by your magic words." (I have always maintained that I'm not smart or witty in the least; I am merely fortunate to have smart and witty friends, who have a propensity for poking gentle fun at me)

I am not convinced, so I sms Sharmila again. "Are you angry?" I ask timidly.

"No. How can I be angry at a bunny?"

Her cryptic reply plants the first seeds of suspicion. Maybe ... she... hadn't... read it?

At noon-ish, she texts me. "My husband read already. I just got the paper. Will read after lunch. Reaction at 1400 hour.

1400 hour?????

GRRR!!!!

What kind of a human being can be so cool and clinical while her friend is practically apoplectic with anxiety???

At five minutes past five, my phone lights up.

"Now my husband thinks I put frogs in people's pockets..." she says before dissolving into laughter.

"Didn't you? Hmmm. Maybe old already, foggy memory."

We speak for a while before putting down the phone. A text comes in. "Thanks mate. I hope others read and make a difference."

So do I, Sharmila, so do I.

Conservation through Children

Community, Going Places, Sept 2009

This story was special for two reasons.

One, it afforded me another welcome opportunity to return to Penang, where I spent my formative adult years. As usual Penang didn't disappoint. Its streets are as colourful and lively as ever. It would seem, from the outset at least, that the charms of Georgetown are relatively insulated from the recent economic meltdown.

Most importantly, it brought me face to face with two extraordinary women: Janet Pillai and Chen Yoke Pin, who along with Kuah Li Feng are the main drivers behind Arts Ed.

Anyone who has lived in Penang would have heard about Anak-Anak Kota, the Arts Ed-initiated programme that aims to preserve local cultural assets through children. Getting secondhand information and actually being part of them are, I discovered, two very different things.

On Saturday morning, I joined the kids on a heritage walk. They streamed in and out of hallowed institutions around the Streets of Harmony, armed with nothing but pencil and paper, maps and a boatload of curiosity. We visited St George's Church, Acheen Mosque, Masjid India, and lots more, all beautifully-preserved, legacy-rich landmarks I'd driven past a zillion times and never even stopped to look, until now.

The weather did little to dampen our spirits. For starters, the facilitators' own enthusiasm for their subject was infectious. Gamely toting umbrellas, we trekked through puddles, huddled on roofed pavements when the rain got too heavy, and even stopped over at a warung where an be-saronged uncle sportingly demonstrated how to pull teh tarik and make roti canai.

Heh. If only my own history lessons were half this fun ...

In that too-short span, I began to develop an appreciation for what Arts Ed has been trying to do in the last ten years: to conserve our legacy through children (thanks for that great headline, Viv!)

Anak-Anak Kota - and by extension, Arts Ed, are a living testament of what real passion can do. Salute, Janet and team.

If you'd like more information about Arts-ED activities and program, Tel/Fax 04-263 3471 or visit www.arts-ed-penang.org

PS Swee Wah, thanks a million for providing the link.

Papa the storyteller

Navel Gazer, The Weekender, 29th August 2009

To read the full article, please click here

"Wah. Now I know why your mother fell for him. Your father looks so handsome and smart."

Chang's probably just joshing me, but isn't that what all starry-eyed little girls feel about their father? And woe betide any unfortunate suitor who falls short of her daddy's lofty standards, ahem :)

Dad is one of those rare beings the Chinese call hoe sin sang. In Chinese, being an onomatopeic language, the phrase could mean one of two things: 1) Good man 2) Good teacher. As if all the forces of fate conspire to converge, my dad fits both the bills :)

He is legendary among my good friends for storytelling skills. On the eve of my gall bladder operation, he pinned my two besties Chang and Wendy to the hospital canteen chairs with horrific high-drama (his painful encounters with kidney stones) and feelgood fables (more Chinese fairy tales with an uplifting moral). Even I, who'd heard it all before, couldn't help grimacing when he recalled, with a relish he could afford on hindsight, the gruesome pain of kidney stones.

We were sitting in the hospital canteen when a faraway look entered Dad's eyes. He recalled, "The worst kind of pain is kidney stone pain."

I looked at mum. "How did Dad get it?"

"He grew up in Pangkalan, where there were a lot of tin mines. I guess it could be the minerals in the water they drank..."

"The stone is passing through your urethra, a tube so slender.." he shuddered. "It was so painful that my entire body broke out in sweat."

Mum nodded gravely. "He was bellowing like a cow. I drove him to the clinic and he couldn't even climb out of the car. The doctor had to come to the car and administer the jab..."

Suffice to say, Dad wasn't the only one who shuddered.

"I used to think, gallstones, kidney failure, back pain, all these things only happen to old people like our parents..." I said ruefully. "Guess what, we got old too. Or at least, are getting older.

"Yeah look in the mirror woman, face the facts staring right at you," Chang chipped in.

Indeed. Like it or not, I've got to deal with the fact that my body isn't an invincible machine anymore, able to withstand the vagaries of an unhealthy lifefstyle with no wear and tear.

"Can't sing that song by Corrs anymore...how does the refrain go, "We are so young, so young, so young now," Chang continued.

"No more fatty food. OMG." I facepalmed melodramatically.

"Look on the bright side," Chang quipped, "at least you save on liposuction."

What was that again ... Sai Ung Sat Ma? :)

People stories

Perak Food Trail, Going Places, May 2009

What's the greatest thing about being a writer?

Is it the travel perks? The free food? The schwag?

"Lexicophilia," I used to answer without hesitation. I did go into writing because I loved words. As much as I enjoy word-play, these days I've uncovered an even more powerful dope - the chance to live vicariously.

During an interview which will be published in October, I found myself saying, "Every time I meet someone for a story, I learn something new," when he asked me why I chose to write, rather than say, sell computers for a living. (My old job, if you didn't know)

You don't just write stories about people's lives - in the process of coaxing the story out of them, you LIVE that person's life. When you talk to people who are still madly in love with their work/craft/pursuit, you get the privilege to relive their highs and lows, see through their eyes, walk in their shoes.

The heroes from my favouritest burger stall in the world :), Thum's Burger

What other job provides you with this window of opportunity, over and over again?

....

Sorry for lack of updates. Byline also made recent appearance in:

The Star Weekender Last Saturday of every month

Going Places June 2009 Rustic Rendezvous; August 2009 Renewed Wows

Quill (Jul-Sept '09) That's the way the cookie crumbles The Hard Life of Writers

Millionaireasia (Sg & Malaysia) Personality Profile Tiah Joo Kim, TA Group's Heir Apparent

Malaysian Insider Numerous. Please visit http://www.themalaysianinsider.com/index.php/blogs/category/food-blog/

The Iron Horse Driver & Ipoh's Mother-lode of Liew

Food, Weekender, The Star

For the full story, please click here

On lucky occasions, writers stumble upon stories they feel an instant affinity for: stories they enjoy exploring, reliving, and in some cases, eating.

These were two such stories :)

Above is my ode to an all-time Ipoh favourite - liew! Be still my wagging tongue :D

On the same day, this came out:

Scratching post, Weekender, The Star

For the full story, please click here

By now, I already know that these kind of low-wattage pieces about everyman don't register nearly as many hits, but my ode to Abang Azmi of KTM surely ranks as my favourite of all time for now, next to the jungle rain piece I did for Going Places in March 2009.

I must have met Azmi in January or so. After getting down from the train, I jotted down my experience in one breathless rush as soon as I could get my hands on a pc, and filed it away with the dozens (maybe hundreds?) of other drafts I've written and tucked away in my computer.

While I knew his story was too compelling to reserve for my own enjoyment, I just couldn't hit the perfect final note. Even after dozens of drafts, I felt none of them were good enough to do justice to him, nor stand up to public scrunity. At one point, I despaired of it ever seeing the light of day.

The day it came out, I duly sent Azmi an sms in the morning, citing page, section etc.

One of his replies was: "I dah war-war kan artikel you pada kawan-kawan I."

Wow. Don't you think that single sms captured the zeitgeist of his personality, far more eloquently than my 1K whopper?

That man sure has a way with words ;)