Sunday, July 05, 2009
Walking The Walk
I never had the pleasure of walking to school.So I'm obviously making up for it big time. Especially with my workplace barely a stone's throw away.
You learn early on that children walk to school. After all you see the cheery fresh-faced students in teenage American dramas taking that brisk morning walk to school. Down those endless tree-lined sidewalks pass cookie-cutter suburban houses straight out of Pleasantville.
Back home, I only had a couple of friends who biked to school. For reasons unbeknownst - perhaps a paranoid suburban fear of perverted paedophiles - hardly anyone walked though. Most of them boarded lumbering schoolbuses ( cramped up to the gills with screaming schoolkids ).
Unfortunately the only way I could do that walk was by waking up the night before since I lived more than ten kilometres away from town. Schlepping my way across town with my inordinately heavy bag of textbooks would probably kill me.
If I wasn't run over by a fleet of runaway schoolbuses.
Country boys!
So now I walk to work with my laptop bag - dawdling my way across endless green meadows, dusty country lanes and busy vegetable patches. All very rural, I assure you. Almost feel like chewing on a bit of grass ( do country folk do that out of boredom? ). Hardly any sexy country boys horsing around though.
Still here's hoping that the fresh air does one good. Pity I can't take a walk to the friendly neighbourhood tuckshop though since the majority of the stores lie miles away in the town centre.
Still I think there's a little grocery store half a mile down the road.
Think I might take a walk.
Not at midnight though.
Labels: Me
Posted by savante at 9:11 AM
4 comments
Friday, July 03, 2009
The Childish Inquisition
Children are such inquisitive creatures, aren't they?And none quite as inquisitive as my niece, Chatty Carmen. Not only does she chatter a mile a minute ( perhaps a garrulous genetic legacy I shared ), she also asks the most uncomfortable - and frequently inappropriate questions.
Incredibly awkward for us adults.
Though sometimes I find myself astonished by her sheer perspicacity. Possibly a budding Nancy Drew.
Still can't get over how Carmen has managed to suss out something that has confounded half the intelligent, discerning adults I know! Perhaps she's psychic. But just today our aspiring interrogator Carmen came up to ask me why men don't marry men while women marry women?
Carmen : Why don't men marry men and women marry women?
Paul : I have no idea. Did your mom put you up to this?
Carmen : No. Why don't boys marry boys?
Paul : You're preaching to the choir, babe.
Seriously. A loaded question. Out of the mouths of babes.
Really had no idea how such a thing cropped up in her prepubescent lil brain. Perhaps some partially hidden cues between me and Charming Calvin played out in front of her highly-suggestive mind?
Maybe I could get these boys to explain!
Now how do you answer that?
Do I tell her what the religious right have to say? Had a trenchant rant chock-full of biblical hellfire ( with examples based on Leviticus and the Genesis with the wild orgies in Sodom ) ready on my tongue since I've heard quite enough from the homophobic zealots but I stopped myself. Certainly no need to fill her head with such small-minded prejudice when I'm far from proficent in Christian theology myself.
Neither do I see the need to leap onto a gay rights soapbox tirade. How to explain our desperate fight for equal rights to a pint-sized gal?
So there I was cracking my head trying to come up with a suitable metaphor for a kadult of 4 years. Finally came up with the flavours of an ice-cream ( inspired by the infamous oysters and snails argument in Spartacus ) to illustrate the point. Some just like vanilla. Some just like chocolate. And that's all there is to it. Since Chatty Carmen raised no argument, I assume she accepted that fact without demur.
Now if only the other homophobic rednecks would agree quite as readily.
Things were surprisingly simpler way, way back then...
Bet some of the impressionable young'uns would be puzzled by what I meant on the oyster and snails issue... well this is a brief excerpt from the film Spartacus where a lustful Roman master finds himself trying to explain certain habits to his comely new slaveboy.
Marcus : Do you eat oysters?
Antoninus: When I have them, master.
Marcus : Do you eat snails?
Antoninus: No, master.
Marcus : Do you consider the eating of oysters to be moral and the eating of snails to be immoral?
Antoninus: No, master.
Marcus : Of course not. It is all a matter of taste, isn't it?
Antoninus: Yes, master.
Marcus : And taste is not the same as appetite, and therefore not a question of morals.
Antoninus: It could be argued so, master.
Marcus : My robe, Antoninus. My taste includes both snails and oysters.
Talk about subtle.
Labels: Family
Posted by savante at 7:02 PM
5 comments
Thursday, July 02, 2009
Meeting of Mothers
It was inevitable.After this many years of being with Charming Calvin, it was inevitable that our parents would meet - especially with the increasing number of times our families have crossed each other paths. There were times I half thought they would stumble upon each other though I tried my very best to stall such a watershed moment.
But Calvin's redoutable mother Lady Borgia insisted on coming along to meet my mother the other day. Had half a dozen plausible excuses at the ready but the wily Lady Borgia forestalled me by appearing suddenly at my place.
Fight!
Cursed with an overactive imagination ( unlike my more placid other half ), I expected copious bloodshed. Perhaps even a vicious scrabble for dominance over the dinner table with one maternal figure blaming the other for condoning the perverted homosexuality.
Lady Borgia : 你害我孩子变同志！( Your son turned mine gay! )
Mother : How dare you! It was your deceitful monster of a child, not mine.
Lady Borgia : 你这城市臭婊子，看招！Take that, you citybred bitch! )
Mother : Keep quiet, you provincial simpleton!
I already had the emergency services on speed dial.
There was no such encounter however.
Don't think my mother has all that much in common with his - don't think they'll be playing mahjong together soon - but they seemed to have gotten along. Thankfully. Perhaps they bonded over shopping for edible ferns called midin.
Labels: Me
Posted by savante at 10:12 AM
9 comments
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Noodles, Nanas and Nabobs
So what is the first thing I did after I landed in the wilds of Borneo?Headed straight for kolok mee. Seriously. After being subjected to endless encomiums in praise for the humble noodle, I knew I had to try it. So have I been converted into a devoted sycophant? Doubt it. I much prefer the thick, tangy kueh chap easily found around the coffeeshops in town.
Then it was off to meet the 'in-laws' so to speak. Does Lady Borgia know? Does Papa Borgia know?
Frankly I have no idea. After the traumatic coming out a few years ago, his disapproving parents already know about Charming Calvin and his deviant sexual predilections. If they know about me, they're definitely keeping it close to their chests. Certainly no homophobic parang throwings as I'd half expected.
Learned quite a lot about our lazy, placid fellow when I visited his rustic farmhouse. Hard to be rabidly hyperactive when you're slowly whiling away the hours in a pastoral Arcadia where time moves at a snail's pace. If it even moves that fast. Listen close enough and you can practically hear the grass grow.
Didn't see anyone like this though? Where are the hot white boys?
Slow drives around the town gave me an opportunity to people-watch. With the locals here mixing in a spicy, diverse melange, it's not as easy to distinguish the different races here. Say farewell to racial profiling! Wonderful for a Malaysia concept that's for sure.
Oddly enough the ethnic Chinese folks here have a darker cast to their skin. Whether a mixed heritage, a serious lack of serviceable sun block or a peculiar fetish for tanning booths, I have no idea. Perhaps the sunburnt scions of the hardworking farming community around the outskirts of town?
Not sure how Charming Calvin manages to remain lily-white.
But the folks here are spectacularly wealthy. Nabobs the lot of them. From the shockingly pretentious pseudo-French-inspired chateaus to the more modest homestays, fair-sized bungalows dot the hills and vales of the city. Land, they have aplenty. No doubt only those in desperately straitened circumstances live in cramped terraced apartments.
Small wonder everyone automatically assumes that the clannish Fuzhous from here are rich as nabobs. Starting to believe that myself :)
Labels: Me
Posted by savante at 9:20 PM
15 comments
Monday, June 29, 2009
The Seahorse makes An Impression
Travelling eastwards hasn't been without its difficulties. Even the bureaucratic hassle of getting the plane ticket itself was frustrating enough. And I haven't even come to the complexity of transferring my belongings ( car, furniture etc. ) across the sea in a container.But I figured I could rough it out for a month or two.
So I packed all I could the night before leaving. Two boxes. That's all I could come up with. In less than an hour, my mother and I had cleared up my room, tossed away the detritus of my old life away and packed everything else into two convenient boxes. Tagged as books and clothes. Amazing yeah?
Charming Calvin offered to tag along ( after much arm-twisting and verbal threats ) to show us around his lil town of Homosex-oil. Otherwise known as Miri. Or the Seahorse City. Though the mind boggles why anyone would randomly pick a mascot that boasts of nothing in particular. Seriously. Think of a seahorse. Any distinguishing characteristic come to you?
Apart from being particularly crispy after being barbecued on a stick in China.
Time to move!
My first impressions of the place?
Certainly not - as we die-hard urbanites fear - the uncivilized back of beyond. Though it's not very far from it :)
Quaint lil town ( and it's a town no matter how you put it ) spread generously across an expanse of sandy coastline with rolling hills and vales to break the monotony. Sparsely populated town centre with a few hulking SUVs ruling the wide empty roads - hence no traffic jams! Happily the annoyingly buzzing motorcycles aren't as common here. Quite evident that the younger locals have fled the area seeking greener pastures elsewhere. I don't blame them much. Unless you desperately crave the peace and quiet of the countryside, this dull, humdrum Pleasantville life here ain't for everyone.
But just like the infamous kolok mee, I believe the place grows on you.
Or at least that's what I'm hoping. Been out hunting for native decorative items in the endless rows of sundry shops but they are seriously hard to find. Seems the local gentry prefer the generic IKEA stuff instead. Fortunately I've been assigned a lovely semi-detached with a vegetable patch attached ( odd, I know! ) so I'll probably have my hands full! More than cosy with three bedrooms for lil ol me.
Maybe I need to rent out some rooms. Starting to wonder if any sexy hot-blooded Kelabit paramedics are in need of a spare bed.
Labels: Me
