Hand-painted Water-colour Post-holiday Thank You Cards Just Like They Make ’em In The Country

A quiet day at home making Thank You cards with the nice smooth Pentel Poster Colours and brushes that someone’d brought over from Singapore. Card designs inspired, naturally, by the homey flora and fauna painted on tourist kitsch in Switzerland.

Coupled this with a few choice talks about the importance of systematic theology, several simultaneous conversations on Whatasapp about near-deaths and funding for missionaries and dinners in the week ahead, and attempted to eat pad thai & drink tom yam soup (instead of the paint at the end of the brush that, at times, was mistaken for the fork).

A decade ago, it would be unseemly to give real friends such amateur attempts at painting. But now, one imagines it might possibly be appreciated – because of the supposed authenticity of the gesture, just like home-baked treats and home-brewed beer by home-grown beards (paired with plaid shirts and corduroy trousers and high leather boots).

The cult of authenticity pervades the church as well, but it is usually the self-centered sort that makes excuses for our many sins – mostly, as sins are, of thinking too much of ourselves: “Oh ho! I can’t help hogging the conversation and talking about myself all the time,” booms the self-professed extrovert* proudly to all who will listen. “Erm, I can’t help running away from everyone else and being by my comfortable old self,” mumbles the self-confessed introvert* from his little corner, etc.

*regardless of the veracity of such distinctions

Sunday Afternoon Jaunts: Spitalfields Markets, The Old Truman Brewery, Brick Lane Sunday Upmarket

It’s been really lovely going for Sunday market ganders around London E1 between morning and evening services.

There’re the Spitalfields Markets (Old Spitalfields Market, Spitalfields Art Market etc):

Then, down past Poppies Fish & Chips, Rosa’s Thai Restaurant, and Absolute Vintage,

and hang a left to Corbet Place where you can turn Brick Lane Sunday Upmarket or just enjoy the al fresco dining at The Old Truman Brewery:

Brick Lane Sunday Upmarket featured a range of beautiful new products (like leather shoes from Shoe Embassy), cupcakes, vintage in the basement, posters:

and an international selection of food:

to be eaten at proper tables indoors, or on seated on the pavement with friends:

Sometimes, through the little rabbit hole adjoining the entrance to Sunday Upmarket, you can follows the signs to the bright airy space hosting the Renegade Craft Fair:

Back outside, Rough Trade East, Traffic People, a perfume shop, American Apparel, hipster throngs:

What I love about markets is their diversity of goods and the music, and the energy wrought from the coming together of creatives and people who appreciate them. Similarly, it is the smörgåsbord of ideas about truth and reality that has always rendered philosophy so attractive to me.

A good chat with The Tutor on our way out today helped confirm some of the conclusions I reached last week while re-thinking (Gottfried Wilhelm) Leibniz’s Theodicy and how right Voltaire was to scoff at him in Candide – the poor man really got his knickers in a twist attempting to explain what God hadn’t revealed. While the discussion this rainy evening was first about women and bible college, it quickly devolved into one concerning biblical theology vs systematic theology, synthesis vs Bible as false dichotomy, major and minor topics in the Bible, disagreement about biblical theology as process and systematic theology as product (synthesis as product? but really, relationship with God as aim), summation of the Law as “love God and love neighbour” not being systematic theology but mere summary.

The problem with systematic theology (as distinct from doctrine synthesised from biblical theology) is that it attempts to force the Bible to answer its questions, whereas it is God through his word in the Bible who should dictate the questions. So questions about ontology, for example, are moot. Ah, this explains why I’ve never been convinced by such arguments as might be found in Thomas Acquinas’ Summa Theologiæ.

Now: listening to Vladimir Horowitz work his way through some Chopin to de-buzz.

PS: Brick Lane Sunday Market + Backyard Market:

If Food Be The Food of Love…

The love language of Singaporeans is food. Well, more than the love language; the very center of a Singaporean’s life is food. And by this i mean a concern about food beyond what is necessary for survival.

Want to celebrate something? Go out for a good meal. Want to comfort someone? Go out for a good meal. Want to mark a special occasion? Food. Want to start a fight? Claim you know where the best char kway teow/laksa/chilli crab/chicken rice is to be found.

So according to the diary, the next few weeks are set to pass in a blur of being brought out for makan or being cooked meals. It’s very nice of everyone to do this, though with upwards of 3 farewell meals on some days, I fear I will be made to pay for two seats when I finally roll up the plane, dragging my enlarged liver behind me.

One day last weekend, we ate our way through Katong, also introducing a Japanese girl to the delights of Nonya cuisine. It was difficult to tell if she enjoyed it since her eyes glazed over halfway through the trek, as yet more dishes were placed before her by her expectant hosts.

First up, Katong laksa (with an account of the feud between laksa stalls), then on to kueh and Nonya dumpling snacks at Kim Choo Kueh Chang (facebook. 109A/111 East Coast Road),

then went in to sit next door in its restaurant for a lunch of chap chye, sambal prawns, ayam buah keluak, and babi assam.

After, we strolled past the very tempting soon kueh at Yong’s Teochew Kueh (150 East Coast Road), en route to

the venerable Chin Mee Chin Confectionery (204 East Coast Road) in the shadow of the Holy Family Church. The auntie seemed to have given up her previous grumbling against shutterbugs (probably after the last decade of happy clickers) and cheerfully concentrated on forgetting our drink orders instead. From the open kitchen wafted the smell of fresh cream puffs and the aroma of bread buns toasted on charcoal fires. The cupcakes and cream puffs catered to old skool tastes – harder and drier than the Japanese stuff we get now but tasty in their own way.

Then, drove over to PeraMakan (facebook. Keppel Club, 10 Bukit Chermin Road), slightly late after dropping off the troops at the Peranakan Museum (where the poor Japanese girl was relieved not to find another restaurant waiting), for a second Peranakan meal. Love the stuff. Ayam buah keluak (rather different recipe cf Kim Choo), Penang Nyonya pork ribs, chap chye, apom balik, chendol (do not adjust your screens, the luminous green is real), and durian pengat (the mousse tastes far better than it looks).

I dislike farewells (and in fact, just woke from a nightmare (literal) about one) because the attention is immensely off-putting. But these ones were very helpful for all at the table because the spotlight was on God and how he brought each one of us to know him. These weren’t success stories about how healing sicknesses, or finding spouses, or getting that ideal job; they were how God worked in different circumstances to reveal his majesty to us. The competitive ambitious one was told that looks, money, and brains weren’t good enough if there was no God, and so was determined to find out what was lacking and was then attracted by the truth of it all; the blur one was dodgified by an early experience with a Christian cult group and eschewed all contact with Christian things but decided on a whim to go for a talk one day and was struck by a message from Scripture that God as creator of the world wanted to have a relationship with us humans; the somewhat flighty one was attracted first by an attractive teacher and wanted to find out more about the teacher’s faith; the annoyingly intense one just wanted to get to the bottom of things – the meaning of life and the reason for our existence, but it wasn’t persistence that paid off – rather this truth came along and tapped her on the shoulder when she was looking the other way.

And this is the promise:

that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. (Philippians 1:6)

Yet Con Restaurant on Purvis Street, “Jiro Dreams of Sushi”, and Living God’s Way

It seems to me that hardly anything about Yet Con (“since 1940”. 25 Purvis Street) has changed over the decades. The signboard, the wording on the flanking pillars and that particular font on the aluminium-framed glass doors, the position of the man chopping succulent chickens on an old wooden block, to your left as you enter,

then the white-haired man who oversees the whole operation of the restaurant with an eagle-eye from behind his cashiers’ desk (complete with retro orange pay phone, ancient safe, and abacus at the ready), shouting instructions in Hainanese, and as new orders are made, writing hieroglyphics on pieces of paper neatly lined up and held in placed with binder clips. He does not seem to have aged a day since the 1980s, in his immaculately-pressed white short-sleeved shirts.

Adding to the atmosphere of nostalgia, discarded eggs shells on the linoleum floor, and the garlicky kick of the chilli sauce, and the depth of flavour of the soup that isn’t just all about the Aijinomoto.

The main draw for me – the pork chop: deep-fried then drenched in tomato-based sauce (possibly with the addition of some Lea & Perrins?). Best eaten with chicken rice.

Woah, this is the first time I’ve seen a menu.

The next day, Jiro Dreams of Sushi opened in Singapore. 83 minutes of the whole cinema collectively sucking in their breath (and drool) as sushi after sushi was precisely made and placed on a black enamel platter, the fish coming to rest on top of the rice with brushed sauce dripping from it in slow motion.

Jiro Ono, the subject of David Gelb’s film, started Sukiyabashi Jiro – a ten-seater, sushi-only (as in, “no appetisers; sushi only”) restaurant in the Ginza shopping district of Tokyo. It has been awarded three Michelin stars several times over. The secret of Jiro’s success was that there were no secrets. Sure, the seaweed had to be toasted over charcoal, and the rice was special and had to be subject to a certain amount of pressure and kept at a certain temperature, and the fish was obtained from the best dealers at Tsukiji market (the tuna for example was obtained from a tuna merchant who only sold tuna and was an expert in the fish), and the octopus was massaged for 40-50 minutes (up from 30 minutes) to make it soft, and the fish had to be aged and then sliced in a certain manner at a certain thickness etc.

It was merely repeating the same tasks over and over again every day (with breaks on national holidays) and trying to make sushi more delicious the next day that enabled him to reach such a high standard. The raving Japanese food critic featured in the movie said that he had never had a bad experience with Jiro. He could go expecting that every time, it would be consistently perfect.

Would Jiro’s two sons live up to his high standards? The director cunningly attempts to create this tension/suspense by interviewing various parties, who shake their heads gently or try to be politely optimistic. Then there was a little surprise at the end concerning the authorship of the sushi placed before the Michelin inspectors…

As Christians, our passion and obsession is pleasing God, and God’s standards are higher than that of any Michelin inspector or self-driven perfectionist. If we had no hope of changing from our old anti-God ways, then our lives would be pointless tragedies. Thankfully, this is not the case.

We were working on Chapter 3 of Matthias Media‘s Back To Basics in preparation for someone’s baptism.

¹¹ For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, ¹² training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age, ¹³  waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Saviour Jesus Christ, ¹⁴  who gave himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for himself a people for his own possession who are zealous for good works. (Titus 2)

The same grace of God that brought us salvation also trains us to live God’s way, because this was the purpose of Jesus’ death in our place. Therefore we are not left bereft and without divine help. Yet, this does not mean we sit around and not do anything – because if we are really passionate about pleasing Him, then we would be even more obsessed about godliness than Jiro is about sushi.

A Saturday at Carpenter & Cook, Old Holland Road, Orchard Towers, and Singapore International Acoustic Guitar Festival

Spent Saturday morning baking for breakfast. Then legged it to Carpenter & Cook (19 Lorong Kilat, facebook, The Business Times article), where we were to check out the subject of blogdom and Twitterverse raves.

A vintage-chic home decor blog post in the flesh! British flag bunting! The retro factor was no token – there weren’t just old Singer factory chairs and tables made from old sewing machine ones, or random old cash registers and Underwood typewriters and weighing scales, but also tea towels!, lovely old plates and cups and glasses and cutlery you could use there and then purchase for home! Are those chairs made from old church pews? Even one wall was plastered with retro wallpaper. It was the experience of being immersed in an eclectic antique shop without the dust. (The Singer sewing machine table and my legs had a bit of a fight though with the knees taking most of the hits.) Yes, the old telephone does actually work. And yes, almost everything is for sale. Retro stock was shipped over from London in a container or sourced locally.

The better thing about the cafe was that so much of the food (even the jams – pineapple & rosemary, blackcurrant & pinot noir) was made in-house by Shenn Sim. This meant variety throughout the week, the ability to tweak recipes in response to feedback, and freshly baked goodness. The two separate groups of people i met prior to arrival highly recommended the passionfruit meringue tart – it was indeed refreshingly satisfying. The quiche wasn’t warmed up but still tasty. Someone gave the thumbs-up for the Valrhona sea salt caramel tart. The pear frangipane didn’t really stand a chance in this company.

The scones were alright (we generally prefer cream scone recipes): no clotted cream to accompany them, liked the unique taste of pineapple & rosemary jam but the sweet kick of the blackcurrant & pinot noir was something else. Coffee from Liberty Coffee beans off an old Elektra machine.

After, a bit of fresh air and sunshine trying out the new boomerang someone got me in Perth, in that lovely big field along Old Holland Road, attempting not to knock pretty RC planes out of the air.

Then dinner at Jane Thai at the somewhat dodgy Orchard Towers before Thomas Leeb and his percussion-hacked guitar took to the stage at the RELC Auditorium.

In line with the week’s discussion about supporting missionaries, headed up North in the early morning to speak with a family there. Which leaves the next few hours for clearing China work.

Many miles to go before i sleep. Chuffed.

Public Garden Flea Market, The Beasties by Kinetic Theatre Company, An Umbrella for 2, Songbird, They Only Come Out At Night: Pandemic at the Singapore Arts Festival 2012

Much of fun of the Singapore Arts Festival 2012 lay in the casual interactivity and natural augmented reality (somewhat) in many of events/activities.

At the Public Garden Flea Market at the Singapore Arts Festival 2012, under the Esplanade Bridge, it was good to see that this wasn’t just another pasar malam (same same but different); aside from cute stalls, on one weekend, a barber and an enterprising ice-cream uncle co-existed happily in the available free space. A good initiative to encourage and leverage on pre-existing interest groups (like Public Garden, Urban Sketchers) rather than attempting to implement similar ideas specifically for this event.

On the second evening, a little way down from Esplanade Bridge, a sizeable crowd had gathered around a young man seeking empathy from the audience for parental objection to his aspirations, probably one of the events at the Esplanade‘s Flipside 2012 (in conjunction with the Singapore Arts Festival, thanks no doubt to Esplanade Theatres On The Bay sharing CEO Benson Puah with the National Arts Council).

And still further on, there were excited children chasing after what was, on closer inspection, a giant moving turd.

Quirky animal-like creations penned up in a petting zoo of sorts, the Beasties were endlessly fascinating in their eccentricities. “I love this,” I said to a zookeeper in a red jumpsuit,”just good fun and the Beasties don’t try to push you a message.” “Ah,” said the zookeep from Kinetic Theatre Company sagely,”the Beasties will try to tell you things, and you shouldn’t believe them of course. But the giant turd there? He is old and he is wise…”

Later we saw this lady walking around with a bridal veil and a sash that said “The Future Mrs W___”. With all the quirkiness going around, no one batted an eyelid, though perhaps we should have congratulated her.

An Umbrella For 2 by Espaces Sonores was a soundwalk through the Raffles City/Marina Square area, with your senses augmented by contextual music and running commentary by several people speaking through headphones jacked into an mp3 player under a shared brolly. (This proved to be a security concern as we walked through the Citylink Mall. The guards told us to lower the big black umbrella (listening chamber), or else…) Aside from the obvious excitement of the adventure of following signposts, not knowing where they were taking you, it was lovely to get fresh perspectives on the usual landmarks and public space, condensed chatter coming from blind people pointing out the deficiencies of the tactiles in the MRT station, others discussing the loss of kampongs in Singapore quite reasonably etc. Much fun, not too marred by the narrative on “qi” in a way that seemed more of an imposition of Western idea of what the exotic oriental Singaporeans would think about things.

Songbird, described as Singapore’s first interactive iPhone play, was conceptualised by Tara Tan under creative collective Studio Now & Then, with app development by Tinker Tanker – a technology and education firm, . The fun wasn’t in the storyline (I can’t even remember the resolution to the mysterious disappearance of a budding songwriter, Songbird), but in scanning QR codes embedded with videos, “SMSes”, instructions, and seeing your own movement on a map. It wasn’t interactive in a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure way either – that would take quite a bit of work!, but we enjoyed the complimentary ice-cream from an itinerant ice-cream cart, a visit to a limousine, and the set up of the “press conference” at the Arts House (complete with press pass).

This was of great interest to me since i’m planning something similar for the wide game for an upcoming youth camp. The experience at camp isn’t meant to be as autonomous as this though.

Having had to don headphones for 3 events at this year’s Singapore Arts Festival, I wonder what theatre will look like in a few years – will it be a trend that the experience be directed at the individual rather than the collective audience? Or is this all about the novelty of it? It is at least obvious that this reflects the way society interacts (or not) in the present. One wonders how pedagogical approaches to communicating the Truth would have to evolve in the next decade.

(Perhaps the reason why They Only Come Out At Night: Pandemic didn’t quite impress locals was that Slung Low Theatre Company failed to consider the modern Asian mindset – the typical Singaporean is fairly tech-savvy and has his mobile surgically attached, so the sight of headphones raised expectations: while in line to enter Chester Rickwood‘s commune/hideout at Old School on Mount Emily, complete strangers were discussing whether the 100 of us would be given different instructions and be forced to separate once in the building. Sadly, the headphones merely sorted out the logistics of delivering the sound without having to set up speakers all around the venue. Also, having been weaned on all sorts of horror movies and ghost stories and Haw Par Villa, the typical Singaporean has a high threshold for fear but at the same time relishes the thought of being frightened half to death. After the first 20 minutes of being sweatily herded from one room to another like tour of a haunted house at a funfair, and another 20 minutes of characters bickering in the humidity and heat, repetitive use of silhouettes of pointy fingers that people didn’t think fictional vampires usually had, everyone was feeling quite let-down and not in the mood to run to the safehouse auditorium. Plus we were possibly too distracted by disappointment to have gotten the purported message of the theatrical experience about the foreigners in our midst.)

The Value of Lo-fi Analogue Vintage Pre-loved Re-purposed Specialty Bespoke Handmade Stuff

Much like the lo-fi photography movement that celebrates imperfect pictures full of light streaks and the gunk from dirty lenses, or the artisan food (bread-making, cake-baking) and beverage (micro/home-brewery, Third Wave coffee) trend, printing too has been going specialty/analogue with the rise of the craft or hobbyist letterpress. The cottage vs mass production thumb-on-the-nose at the Industrial Revolution, ironically inspired by the wedding invites featured on the decidedly mainstream Martha Stewart.

To the layperson, this seemed to be the sequence of events: in 2006, the year Jim Lahey’s No Knead Bread recipe arguably started to spawn the artisanal bread renaissance and attendant micro-bakeries, there arrived, opposite Thian Hock Kheng Temple on Telok Ayer Street, Kenny and Karen and Books Actually (now at Yong Siak Street, Tiong Bahru Estate).

They sold second-hand (and new) books for what seemed an exorbitant amount for those of us who still trawled Bras Basah Complex and lo-fi hand-printed and/or hand-stitched ephemera (postcards, bookmarks, journals, cahiers) that would eventually be parked under the “Birds & Co.” label. The price tag signalled to customers that this was not a thrift shop and at the same time elevated old stuff to objects of desire. The unique quirkiness of the space was enhanced by a series of plastic green soldiers along the stairway to the shop on the second storey, a dunce cap on an olive chair in the corner outside the shop, and retro decor within (including not-for-sale old Polaroid cameras).

Hundredth monkey theory validity aside, a Lomography shop set up before or about the same time on Smith Street before wearing large plastic frames was in fashion.

Then The Little Drom Store, Cat Socrates, and vintage rag and bric-a-brac shops (that somehow also encompass the tchotchke, handmade independent labels etc that inevitably accompany granny’s clothes):

• C K Collection (not Calvin Klein. 586 Serangoon Road),
• David Antiques (215 Rangoon Road),
• Deja Vu Vintage,
• Dulcetfig (facebook),
• Dinky Di’s (Golden Landmark Shopping Complex),
• Dust Bunny Vintage,
• Five Stones Vintage,
  
  
  
  
• Flea & Trees (facebook),
• Granny’s Day Out,
  
  
  
• Nana & Bird,

• Oakham Market,
• Past Image (#03-08 Excelsior Shopping Centre),
• The Attic Lifestyle Shop (04-146A Far East Plaza),
• The Heritage Shop (93 Jalan Sultan),
• Trippies (42 Bussorah Street),
• Salvation Army Thrift Store(s),
• Stevie’s General Store.

And now, demand has been such that shops (not along Sungei Road) sell vintage / rehabilitated / re-purposed / restored / pre-loved stuff for stiff prices that might shock a person of that certain era. Well it’s a “free economy”, so furniture that you could once get from garage sales or next to the trash can now be acquired in sanitised settings. Though they may not be considered collectibles or antiques (but when do objects make it over that threshold?), retro (including mid-century which may be considered distinct from specifically Singaporean retro) lust can be assuaged at:

• A Thousand Tales,
• Asher’s Vintage Market (facebook),
• Barossa Furnishings,
• Changi Junk Store (facebook),
• Forår: for wood and vintage,
• Hock Siong & Co. (facebook),
• Jennifer’s Vintage and Antique (facebook),
• Journey East (Tan Boon Liat),
• Junkie’s Corner (94 Jalan Senang),
• Koda‘s Commune,
• Belle and Cheu’s Like That One, Long-longtime Store (facebook),
• Lorgan’s The Retro Store (facebook),
• Mad About Vintage,
• Oddyssey – odds and whatnots (facebook),
• ReStore,
• Room of Woods (facebook),
• Rumah Kita (facebook),
• Second Charm,
• Soon Soon Hong Huat (by Booksactually),
• Tong Mern Sern Antiques Arts & Crafts (acerbic neighbour of The Plain cafe),
• Viewpoint Trading.

If replicas are the barometer of popular taste then it would should be of note that the furniture reproduction business is also booming (though mostly for mid-century -> Modern or vague approximations): Comfort Furniture, Gnee Hong, Lorgan’s The Retro Store, Lush-Lush.

Similarly, if wedding accoutrements are any indication, the healthy rental rates for kombis and old VW beetles should attest to the vintage trend: Kombi Rocks (facebook), Ray’s Vintage Rental, as should recommendations for bespoke invitation cards (see also Ri Stationers, Box In Blue).

So now the letterpress gets its 15 minutes with great excitement being generated about its process and the tactile enjoyment it provides (for more, see Briar Press). Excellent for stationery fetishists:

• Kin Yiap Press – for more commercial design printing,
• Paper Tiger Press – “purveyor of luxuriously tactile paper goods”, “evoking a bygone era of sophisticated correspondence”, “it’s got real soul, but it also isn’t exact”, “subtly unique”,
• PapyPress – 1950s Heidelberg Windmill, “letterpressed print speaks to a bygone era when printing required great skills and the printer regarded as an artist. The result is an art piece that aroused romantic and oftentimes sensual feelings in the beholder”,
• The Gentlemen Press – run by two ladies,
• Perched On A Tree Letterpress (facebook) – when they finally get a space to call their own,
  
• possibly a Bureau Press at The Bureau?

If all else fails, there’s always Jonathan Wright stuff at Strangelets, a design shop next to BooksActually along Yong Siak Street, Tiong Bahru Estate.

We were talking about the occurrence of this sort of thing at last week’s somewhat secret supper club, “supper clubs” being unique to urban locations where alienated individuals crave some way of connecting with fellow humans. In the same way, the retro zeitgeist seems to have been propelled by city dwellers so desperate for human warmth that they would pay a premium for anything “artisan”, “bespoke” or “handmade” regardless of actual quality (ah, but who determines quality?).

So what is valuable and what isn’t? If one man’s junk is another man’s prized antique, who is right about such attribution of value? Who is to say that the old couple who have hoarded decades-worth of newspapers in their flat have psychological issues? The fruitfly-lifecycle of these trends tell us this much: some fools sell and some fools buy, but the wise man invests in things with objective value. The Eternal One who is in control of the history and future of humankind tells us as much:

“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name and in your name drive out demons and in your name perform many miracles?’ Then I will tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!’

“Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock. But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash.” (Matthew 7:21-27)

Print Gocco in Singapore

A happy afternoon messing around with the Gocco printer. (Monster Gallery‘s session by Joseph Chiang (via BooksActually) came just as i was directed to ask Su Lin of Pupsik Studio about her printer.) The thick smell of ink in an enclosed space and the murmur of people working at art made me a little nostalgic for childhood Saturday afternoons spent learning Chinese brush painting (and a lot of gossip about the Singapore art scene) from a very nice couple, one of whom was eventually awarded the Cultural Medallion, much to our amusement.

This method of printing is quite simple; it was access to a Gocco printer i really wanted:

1. Draw design with [Micron] pen on a piece of paper.
2. Move over to the printer. Cover the printing pad with a piece of paper.
3. Insert screen (red arrow first) into printer.
4. Insert two new flash bulbs into head.
5. Place design onto paper-covered printing pad.
6. Close lid and press down. The bulbs with expend their lives with a bright flash.
7. The design should have been transferred to the screen.
8. Keep the design on, flip open the plastic film and put a good amount of ink on the screen.
9. Return to the printer, insert the inked screen, place target card on printing pad, press lid to print.
10. Leave prints to dry.

To clean screen, scrape off excess ink with a scrap card first, then wipe with a bit of Gocco ink remover, turn it around and wipe other side once with dry tissue. Clean the plastic sheet with wet wipes.

After, we moseyed down to The Orange Thimble for our first meal of the day at 5.30pm,

and a chat and/or laugh about typography, the font of Singapore street signs, teaching people to really Look at their surroundings, the relationship between typography and architecture, Simon Garfield’s Just My Type (a book about fonts), cross-cultural communications, and silly interpretations of each other’s prints from the afternoon. (And, apparently i am a one-person peanut gallery.)

Despite the problems in determining culture-specific indications of “no!”, words are still far more effective tools of communication than visuals. The Draw Something app (+ fat fingers on an iPhone not an iPad) wouldn’t have provided so many hours of entertainment if trying to understand what the other person was attempting to communication didn’t involve so much guesswork (sometimes!):

And as i was protesting the interpretations imposed on my design by friends (both old and very new), it occurred to me that the Bible featured in my print, taken by them as representing faith or purity, is actually the primary means chosen by God to reveal himself to humans. We are not left with the task of trying to guess at God’s will for us from dodgy visions or shifty dreams (if any); the Bible is accessible to all and tells us clearly our place in this world and how we are to live – we can enjoy our coffee and tea and sweets because they are all good gifts from God, we can love in a way that we were built to love, we know who God is and how to please him. Next time, i should adopt the imagery of Psalm 119:150:

Your word is a lamp for my feet,
a light on my path.

Reading Haruki Murakami’s 1Q84 on the First Day of the Chinese Lunar New Year

After attempting to obey the fifth commandment with some un-inspired cooking for/entertaining guests who had come over to the family home to celebrate the first day of the Chinese Lunar New Year,

settled down for a long read of Haruki Murakami‘s 1Q84 tome that i’d picked up at Kinokuniya Liang Court after some CNY eve grocery shopping at Meidi-ya.

Rather enjoyed it though couldn’t help thinking that Philip K. Dick and Jorge Luis Borges would have written this more succinctly and with more oomph. Still, its 925-page length and generous vagueness would provide something for everyone to feed on: if one wished to view the book as touting the power of literature (eg. Douglas Haddow for The Guardian), well…then as the Little People might say, though only as Marshall McLuhan,”Ho ho.”, as they might also chuckle if one was inclined to contrast the insidious tyranny of the Little People in 1Q84 with George Orwell’s Big Brother in 1984. Someone else (perhaps the scriptwriter for the movie spin-off) might also quite easily read it to mean that only true love will keep people alive.

In 1Q84, Murakami’s usual OCD-ly-disciplined alienated protagonists find themselves picking their way again through the leitmotif sands of shifting reality, only this time, the alternate reality is easy to identify – it has two moons. (For a summary of the plot, try: Boyd Tonkin for The Independent, Christopher Tayler for London Review of Books.) In the parallel world, there are cults with their own version of reality (see New York Books’ quick reference to Murakami’s earlier research on cults) – the suffering Leader willing to sacrifice himself, the prayer of the Society of Witnesses for the forgiveness and for the Lord in Heaven’s kingdom to come, closely referenced Christianity.

It had been my argument, many years ago, that Christianity was just another cult trying to impose its warped version of reality on the right-thinking postmodern public, until someone pointed out that the truth was easily evidenced and that if i actually looked, i would see that twin moons hung in the night sky.

PS:

The lemon almond cake with pistachio and rose flakes, and the cranberry and walnut brownie cubes were delicious in a good homemade way: the barely-discernible almond in the cake kept it moist and the thin icing provided just the right amount of sweet sourness; the brownies were made with melted chocolate and cocoa for a properly chocolatey taste. Everything was baked in situ at All Good Things Bakery (facebook) at Watermark, Rodyk Street, Robertson Quay:

Wholesome Food and Speech?

Was craving brown rice so attempted a fix at Real Food at The Central. Not as unmilled as I was hoping for, but the brown rice mix “containing at least 5 different organic grains including wild rice and barley beans” was rather tasty.

On the wholesome-ness of another matter: after numerous inevitable discussions about the salaries of Singapore ministers with various groups of people, i’ve been wanting to set out my thoughts on the issue for my own reference. Am rather neutral between political parties, since none of them are perfect and have their fair share of duds. But have been quite taken aback by the hatred and personal attacks on Facebook that, in a non-PAP-linked context, would be labelled harrassment and/or cyber-bullying. The vitriol i’ve seen hasn’t been terribly rational nor does it seem to be interested in what is best for the country. People haven’t fought so hard for freedom of speech for this sort of wanton abuse.

Anyway, since Alvin Yeo’s speech sets out most of the points in my mind (much more succinctly of course), am reproducing it here merely for future reference (not for yet more debate ad nauseum). Sadly, despite the best laid plans of mice and men, no system or policy can be made proof against the inherent sinfulness of all men:

Speech by Chua Chu Kang GRC MP Alvin Yeo (Debate on Political Salaries, 16 Jan 2012)

It is certainly fashionable now to lay into this whole topic of minister’s pay, to attack perceived ‘fat cat’ salaries and decry the loss of the spirit of public service that was the hallmark of our pioneer leaders.

But amidst the cacophony of sound, it is essential that we maintain a level-headed perspective about this debate, to temper idealism with realism, to remember that nothing exists in a vacuum (least of all, our country), to strike a balance between the ethos of public service and the need to attract and retain talent in our leadership.

One of the sub-plots that has drawn considerable comment is the benchmark adopted by the committee – the median income of the top 1,000 citizen earners, less 40 per cent. It is criticised by some to be elitist, there’s no relation to the lot of the common Singaporean, and likens public office with the profit-driven occupations of commercial enterprise.

Far better, it is said, to peg salaries to the median income of all Singaporeans, or of the lowest 20 per cent – and now with the latest proposal by the Workers’ Party, to that of senior civil servants – and then apply a suitable multiple to that figure.

I feel that much of this criticism overlooks what the committee was trying to achieve. The committee was not seeking to monetise the value of public service or to treat the Cabinet as an extension of the private sector, as the honourable member for Aljunied Mr Chen Show Mao has alleged.

Rather the committee was looking at the talent pool among Singaporeans, from whom the Government would seek to draw its future leaders. It is true that income-earning capacity, just as academic qualifications and lofty positions in corporations, are not a conclusive determinant of the qualities to be a leader. That is where the ethos of public service comes in, and what the 40 per cent discount was meant to address. But make no mistake, our citizens demand top performance from our ministers, who in turn are drawn from what is considered to be the likely pool of top performers.

Purely by way of illustration, there was considerable excitement in political circles when Mr Chen Show Mao himself threw his hat in the political ring. This was not because Mr Chen was considered to be a ‘median-income’ sort of guy, or somehow an emblem of the lowest income quintile of society. But rather, with his sterling qualifications and his position then as a partner in a international law firm, he was proof that opposition parties could also attract the sort of top talent, that one day perhaps may form the Government.

What about the other suggested benchmark of median income, which is then multiplied by a ‘reasonable’ number?

The first issue is how you derive this multiple – is it five times, 10 times, or 20 times? Whichever multiple you use will be arbitrary, and appear to be an exercise in backward rationalisation. You work out the salary figure you want, and then you derive the multiple to get there.

The second issue is – how does this method better justify the salary as identification with the man-in-the-street? Once you apply a multiple, any multiple – five times, 10 times, 20 times – you lose that identification with the median income, and you can be equally accused of being elitist.

To me, the most significant metric that appears in the committee’s report was the Mercer’s figure of $2.29 million for the average pay for a CEO of a similar public-listed company. That was considered by Mercer as the closest approximation to a minister’s job.

That may be so but in my view it is still not that close. The budget of a ministry runs into the billions of dollars, more than that of the typical public company. The number of employees of a ministry can be in the tens of thousands, bigger than most public companies. The impact of a minister’s decisions and policies affect a far wider group than any public company.

When there is a breakdown of the MRT trains, the Transport Minister is called to account. When a portion of Orchard Road floods, the Minister for the Environment and Water Resources has to answer questions on ponding and pumps.

No one is complaining about this – that is the nature of public office. But if the closest approximation of a minister’s job, which is still less onerous than that of a minister, pays $2.29 million, and the Committee’s recommendation would mean that a minister earns less than 50 per cent of that, is that a not a reasonable balance to strike? Is that not an appropriate financial sacrifice to make for public office?

There are those who think that is not enough, that public office should not be linked with competitive salaries, even with a 40 to 50 per cent discount. I respect their view, but would caution that idealism must be tempered by pragmatism, by a sense of the world we live in.

We would all like our leaders to be not only honest, clever, hardworking, probably good-looking as well, but so public-spirited that they would take office regardless of the pay, regardless of whether they could provide sufficiently for their family, or for their own retirement. Ms Denise Phua dubbed them ‘superhero politicians’. There are such people around, but are there enough for one to form a government, generation after generation?

The bulk of the population would like to earn a good living, and to earn more if they could. Does it mean that a potential leader is not public-spirited, if he or she is willing to take a pay cut but still wants to ensure a certain standard of living for their family? Or are we confining our choice of leaders to those who not only are extremely capable, but also have the disposition of religious or social workers when it comes to something as mundane as a salary? Is it wise for us to confine our pool of potential leaders to such a restrictive category?

Quite apart from that, a symbolic salary, or one that is not linked in any way to the potential income that a leader could make if he chooses a different path, brings with it other dangers. It is difficult to speak about it diplomatically, but it is well-recognised that there are many political leaders in other countries, who draw an official salary which appears very low, but are rich beyond imagination because they use their power for illicit gain.

There is a list circulating around the Internet about the 20 to 30 highest paid political leaders in the world, and all of them are from the Singapore Government, presumably to make the point against high minister salaries.

But if the list was expanded to include the 20 to 30 richest political leaders, I believe there would not be a single Singaporean minister among them.

Clearly a low or symbolic salary would not put off such persons, who see public office as the route to great riches but through indirect means. The complete opposite to the clean wage that Mr Inderjit Singh was talking about. But are these the sort of persons we want to vie for leadership positions?

Still another side effect of having salaries which are not being pegged to private sector benchmarks, even with a hefty discount, is that it tends to limit those coming forward to serve, to those who have inherited wealth or who have already made their fortune.

The United States and the United Kingdom are two countries which are acknowledged as leading democracies, with First World political systems, if not always parliaments. It has been pointed out many times that their leaders get paid less than our ministers, despite ruling over larger countries. What is sometimes overlooked is the background and composition of their leaders.

Quoting from ThisisMoney.co.uk, an article called ‘The Cabinet Rich List’ by Glen Owen, talking about the United Kingdom:

‘It is the £60 million (S$119 million) Cabinet. David Cameron’s coalition government may have adopted ‘fairness’ as one of its defining slogans, but his team of ministers has been drawn almost exclusively from the ranks of the financial elite – leading to accusations that politics is once again becoming the preserve of the wealthy.’

On No. 3 of the Cabinet Rich List is George Osborne, Chancellor of the Exchequer, with a net worth, which means assets less liabilities, of £4.6 million. The description is: ‘The youngest Chancellor for more than a century holds a £2 million stake in his father’s luxury wallpaper company, and lives in a £2 million family home in London’s Notting Hill. His constituency property adds another £600,000.’

At No. 5 of the Cabinet Rich List is the Prime Minister David Cameron, with a net worth of £4 million.

The PM and his wife both come from wealthy backgrounds and enjoy substantial property assets of their own: their London home has been valued at £2.7 million and their constituency house at £1 million.

Both are in line to inherit fortunes from their parents: the combined wealth of the Camerons’ parents has been put as high as £30 million.

Then at No. 12 on the list is Deputy Prime Minister Nick Clegg with a more modest net worth of £1.9 million. This is the description of his state of wealth:

‘Like his coalition partner Cameron, Clegg’s father made millions in the City. While Clegg Sr has an impressive international property portfolio worth several million pounds, the Lib Dem leader’s own wealth comes from a £1.5m property in Putney and a constituency house in Sheffield.’

Turning to the US, citing figures from OpenSecrets.org which is published by the Centre for Responsive Politics, of the estimated net worth – again, assets less liabilities – of members of the executive:

In 2008, the Republican government contained figures such as Henry Paulson, the Secretary of the Treasury with an estimated net worth of US$125 million (S$161 million), and Dick Cheney, the vice-president, of over US$30 million. Even the President, George Bush was worth about US$9.5 million.’

In 2010, the Democratic government contained figures like Hillary Clinton, the Secretary of State with an estimated net worth of US$31 million, and William Daley of over US$28 million. Even President Barack Obama, perhaps thanks to his book sales, was worth US$7.3 million.

I do not seek to criticise these countries or their political systems. But it reinforces the view that every country must choose its own system based on its own economic conditions, social mores and particular limitations. What works for the UK and the US may not be right for Singapore. We are a small country, true, but that is precisely the challenge – how to make this little red dot, with no natural resources, small population, tiny domestic market, relevant against our giant neighbours and in this ever-changing world. All while trying to maintain our multi-ethnic, multi-religious identity.

To institute a system of remuneration that tends to draw our leaders from the saintly, the power-hungry and the already-rich, is not a course we should take.

We need the best government we can find, regardless of race, religion or background, provided they have the public interest at heart.

We need a system of remuneration – not to attract candidates to public office with the promise of riches, but not to deter them either, by imposing over-large sacrifices of a financial and personal nature. The committee sets out a fair and reasonable balance between these competing requirements. We should support it and move on with the challenging task of coming up with the best policies to improve the lives of all Singaporeans.

Since any attempt at quantification of salary has gotten the raspberries, i do wonder, if one took a ministerial appointment as some sort of national service and so if ministers were paid their last drawn salary (just as employers are currently compensated for any recall of their employees for reservist), how much more or less the bill would be. But certainly the horizontal inequality of pay then amongst ministers would throw up a whole different set of issues in theory and practice.

This reminds me somewhat of how lunch with colleagues sometimes goes:

A: Where shall we eat?
Everyone: Anywhere lah, anywhere. You decide lah.
A: Ok, let’s go to X.
B: Too smelly!
A: Ok, how about Y?
C: Food not good and too expensive!
A: Err, Z?
D: Too far away.
A: ……

Appointed as leader but everyone finds fault with your decisions and provide no viable alternative. And when the decision-maker accedes to demand of each person’s opinion of what is best, and we all know how “The Man, The Boy, and The Donkey” from Aesop’s Fables ended.

PS: In many respects, an interesting speech by Tan Chuan-Jin:

Speech – Parliamentary Debate on the recommendations of the Committee to Review Ministerial Salaries (18 Jan 2012)

Thank you Mr. Speaker, for allowing me the opportunity to share my thoughts.

A lot of views have been shared over the past few days in Parliament and much has been exchanged on the topic both in and out of this house. Many have taken an interest in this topic.

I would like to take a different tact and share more on the rhetoric and reality of service.

I am a new Member of Parliament, as many of my friends are on both sides of the house. This debate is useful for us to take a few steps back and ask ourselves very fundamental questions.

I will address 3 themes today.

Why we serve? What price our service? And the rhetoric and reality of service.

We serve

We serve because we all in this House believe that this place called Singapore is our home and it is worth fighting for. We may have different views, but if you strip the politics or rhetoric out of these few days’ exchanges, there is a lot more in common than we care to admit.

We should not try to speak as if we are the most committed, most passionate, principled etc. We all are, in our own ways.

Secondly, as honourable Mr. Chen Show Mao states so eloquently, we serve because it is a privilege and I agree. I would add that we serve because it is a calling. It is not a career. It is an honour that all of us do not take lightly. I think all of us here believe in this.

Importantly, we make sure that we do the real work on the ground and we serve because we want to make a difference. For example, there is the prospect of an economic downturn coming. Not everything is within our control but we have been planning on how best to ride it, manage it, and to look after Singaporeans. Livelihoods are at stake. We do what we can, as we do on a whole range of issues. It is not just talk and debate.

Things are not perfect by far, but we continue to try and do as best we can.

On balance, Singapore is in pretty good shape considering the difficulties in the last decade or so.

Our work continues.

Who do we serve? We serve our people, our country, for today and for tomorrow. As the honourable Mr. Yee Jenn Jong states, Singapore is not a company nor a business. It cannot be run as such. All of us agree. It is far more than that. But should we not be prudent? Should we not put in place systems and processes to keep things going well? Should we look at numbers? Should we look at details? Should we make those difficult decisions that are sometimes necessary but painful for some?

We face these decisions everyday in our households, do we not? At our work place? These are the realities of life. There is no point pretending otherwise and it is no less for a country. Does addressing these things make Singapore a company which is indicative when you made your statement? We address these because we are responsible and we care for well being of our people and our nation.

Let me share with you this card I received on Monday during my Meet-the-People Session from one of my residents. She is a single mother with an abusive ex-husband, with school-going children and was finding it difficult to secure a rental flat.

It was addressed to Member of Parliament, Mr. Tan, not Minister. (I highlighted this because of statements made that we were Ministers first rather than being an MP first)

谢谢你给我的帮助, 孩子们已经搬进新家了。心里对您的感激永远不会忘记。您帮助了我重新开始人生的第一步，也是最困难的第的一步。我会好好珍惜和努力往前走。 在这里还是要多一次说谢谢您。 祝您新年快乐、万事如意。

(In English) Thank you for your help. The children have moved into their new home. In our hearts, we will never forget your help. You have helped me to take the first, which is also the most difficult, step to begin our lives afresh. I will treasure this and will continue to work hard to move forward. Thank you once again and Happy Lunar New Year.

This is not unique – I think all of us from both sides of the House receive such cards, acknowledgements from time to time.

What price our service?

We are all Members of Parliament, elected by the people.

Can we price our responsibilities? Impossible. This effort is not about pricing the office. But we all know that once we move beyond the proclamations of service, we need to work the mechanics of this. It is something we need to do, whatever the formula.

As we have seen, Worker’s Party accepts that we need to do that as well. Honestly, I think these principles are not dissimilar and are in the same ballpark. The numbers don’t necessarily differ greatly, depending on what the performance is and so forth, and I don’t intend to go into details on this.

So is the opposition also pricing our service as well in this effort? Of course not!

Are the models very different? So let’s look at this.

A very emphatic statement was made about us being MPs first. Indeed we are. But I was curious when Honourable Member Pritam Singh made these grand statements of a political nature – that for us, we are Ministers first, before MPs. There is no such thing. He added that there is only the top tier that can become Ministers. I would suggest that it is rather untruthful. We are MPs first unlike certain MPs who have stated that it is not their responsibility to look after the low-income group, that it is the Government’s responsibility.

That is why all of us as Members of Parliament, even as office holders, make sure we look after our residents as best as we can. We push the Government to do more, and complement the national efforts when we are able to. We do not wish away our responsibilities. We walk the talk as best as we can.

The Worker’s Party suggests that an MP’s pay be based on MX9 because it is an extension of public service. But then again, MX9 is also based on market considerations. This is part of the entire pay structure of the civil service – from MX 9 to beyond the Admin Service pay. We look at the private sector pay and adjust it accordingly. MX 9 is the entry level to the Super scale level. So I suppose we add in some multiples to make up a credible political number.

So on one hand – you have multiples of a top civil servant’s pay at MX9. On the other hand, as proposed by Mr. Gerard Ee’s committee – a so-called discount factor on the top 1000.

Mr. Chen states that political service is not a discount factor. I agree. It is not. I have talked about why we serve.

So in the same spirit, would it be correct to say that in WP’s reckoning, that Political Service is a “mark-up factor?”

I don’t think so. That would be a cheap political shot. Because that is not what you mean.

My main puzzle is a logical one: The Workers’ Party formula must come from some foundational perspectives – either it chooses the market-peg that we have worked on, or it puts forward another basis all together. Pegging it to the public sector sounds good at first glance, but it does not count because the public sector too derives from that market-peg. So statements like “Cabinet is not an extension of the Private Sector” again sounds very good and we agree. But does it not then follow that under the Workers’ Party formulation, “the public sector is an extension of the private”? Surely not, as well.

Pays are linked across sectors not because their missions are similar but because the empirical reality is that the same pool of people can flow to either side. There is no point pretending otherwise.

So I suggest that we are, in many ways, on the same song sheet. Which leads me to the last point.

The rhetoric and reality of service

As I said earlier, I totally agree political service is a privilege.

But you know it’s not a credit card-sort of privilege and membership in Parliament does come with some privileges. I don’t primarily think of it that way nor many of my fellow members. For me, it is a calling to serve. It is a hard-won honour, but more importantly, it is a responsibility. Our responsibility as leaders is to apply our hearts and also our minds to best serve our people. There are practical issues we need to manage – the budget, sustainability, and trade-offs. They may not be emotive or gut stirring, but that is what responsible leadership is about.

Responsibility is not about flowery rhetoric but about translating this belief into reality on a daily basis, to make things better for our people.

Establishing a fair, transparent and pragmatic pay structure is part of that responsibility. Why do we pretend and paint it in negative political tones when in reality, you are doing very much the same with your approach?

What I found most troubling was that a committee was set up in good faith to seriously review the political salaries. Yet it now appears that the opposition has chosen not to share with the Committee the ideas that they are so passionately championing. I understand that Mr. Yee has explained. But two days ago, Mr. Gerald Giam would not give a clear answer. But I thought Mr. Yee’s response yesterday was illuminating. In essence, the thrust of what he said was – there is no need to share that much with the Committee because they would rather table it in Parliament. But the fact of the matter is that the Review Committee was set up to review the structure and the robust debate that we have today can still continue.

So what does this suggest? I think if we are sincere in trying to make things better, we should help the committee do the best job possible rather than focus on gamesmanship in Parliament.

Is this the First World Parliament that they are talking about? I see many First World Parliaments out there floundering. They consume their future and are embroiled in rhetoric and politics that keep them from helping their countries get out of their respective ruts.

But I trust that that is not the First World Parliament that you are talking about. And I think all of us want a model that works for us – regardless of what you want to call it.

There is this matter of sacrifice that I would like to address. It was shared that political service is not about sacrifice.

We don’t all wrap ourselves in a flag and proclaim our patriotism. I believe all of us on both sides of the House serve for the right reason. We all take different routes. The Honourable Mr. Chen for example left Singapore for many years. He became exceedingly successful and then returned to serve our people. Some of us have stayed on and served our nation in various capacities. For some of us, it is our entire lives. And in our own simple way, we are proud to have served and to continue serving.

I admire those who proudly proclaim that there is no sacrifice in stepping forward to political service. It took me a long time to decide even though I had been serving in our Army. Political service is public service but somewhat different. Does this make me a less committed Singaporean?

I am pained by the knowledge that I will miss the many moments when my children are growing up and time with family. My parents are not getting any younger. Those moments missed do not return. Ever. In time, I will look back, and there will be gaps. But that’s life.

I’m not sure how one considers it a privilege to miss these precious moments. It trivializes all of us who do cherish these.

Does that make all of us lesser beings?

Political office is a privilege, a calling and a responsibility. Whatever sacrifices there may be, we do so because we believe there is a higher calling and it is worth this effort to step forward.

As a Christian, I believe that serving my fellow-Singaporeans is my responsibility and count it as a blessing that I am able to do so.

As a soldier, I know and I have seen with my own eyes that real and true service involves sacrifice all the time. We sacrifice what we hold dear to serve something bigger than ourselves.

There is no dollar value that can be attached to this.

And neither should we play games by competing to see who can proclaim their credentials louder with savvy emotive laden language. Or who is more noble with the cleverer turn of phrase.

It is ultimately about human lives and our people’s future. There are real concerns that our people struggle with, and it is our duty to make lives better.

While it may not make for good politics, we believe that it is the right thing to address this pay issue head on.

In being an honest government and I am not talking about corruption here, we try our best to deal with realities and to squarely address them.

Rhetoric is important but it is more important to carry out our responsibilities as best we can.

Ministerial Pay is something we need to decide on. Before the elections, I made a statement that this is something that we should review. I believe the recommendations are fair, and provide us a reasonable basis to implement it sensibly.

With that, Mr. Speaker, I support the motion.

Mr. Tan Chuan-Jin
Minister of State (Manpower & National Development)
MP, Marine Parade GRC

Dreams and Reality: Masterpieces of Painting, Drawing and Photography from the Musée d’Orsay, Paris at the National Museum of Singapore

The several hours of talking loudly down the line to folks in India were thankfully balanced by a more peaceful evening of Claude Debussy, with Melvyn Tan on the piano at Dreams & Reality: Music at an Exhibition (Dreaming Debussy), at the Singapore National Museum.

Amongst the Musée d’Orsay loans, curated in an exhibition titled “Dreams and Reality: Masterpieces of Painting, Drawing and Photography from the Musée d’Orsay, Paris“, he put the ivories to work on:

Debussy – Suite bergamasque
• Prélude
• Menuet
• Clair de lune
• Passepied

Debussy – Préludes Book 1
• Danseuses de Delphes
• Voiles
• Le vent dans la plaine
• «Les sons et les parfums tournent dans l’air du soir»
• Les collines d’Anacapri
• Des pas sur la neige
• Ce qu’a vu le vent d’Ouest
• La fille aux cheveux de lin
• La sérénade interrompue
• La cathédrale engloutie
• La danse de Puck
• Minstrels

The acoustics were surprisingly good – you could hear every nuanced note on the Steinway despite the airiness of the venue, providing the aural intimacy of a salon. Being someone who hears in shapes and colours, it was a special treat to listen to Debussy while gazing at (one of) Monet’s “Lady With Parasol” – evoking the colours, sunshine, and summer breeze i’ve somehow come to associate with Claude.

Mythology

But it was difficult to sit still with all the rest of the paintings yet to be viewed. Happily, we had the gallery to ourselves after the performance. A curious mix of work. All curation is interpretation of course, as are programme notes. And one attempts to create some coherence from the material at hand.

History and War

Family

However, having repeatedly been the subject of such unwarranted enthusiasm, i’m particularly leery of any third-party pronouncement of the meaning behind a piece of art or music, even the assumption that it is a reaction to the zeitgeist of the day. As far as i understand it, sometimes, you feel a painting coming on and just paint whatever’s infront of you or on your mind, or you are just larking around with a tune and suddenly it fits.

Leisure

The Human Figure

It was very useful, though, to have representative paintings from a certain period of time in human history in one place; snapshots of an era. It is even more useful to know what comes before and after an era – knowledge of the past should make us more humble: there is nothing new under the sun; the pendulum of human history swings back and forth from one extreme to another, building upon or reacting to what came before. Confronted with such a broad vision of humanity, we should then resist being blinkered by myopia of the present (eg. rebelling against institutions (all status quo being institutional) without understanding how they came to be and why they were put in place in the first instance, or without realising the predictable consequences of our naive idealism). After all, today’s rebels are tomorrow’s institutions.

Landscape

Man As Solitary Being

But of course, all history too is biased. And it is not necessarily written by the victors alone (since conspiracy theorists, random speculators, activists for perceived victims, historians who want to present a fresh exciting paper at the next conference etc have always had their say).

Two things occurred to me that night: (1) when God is described as eternal, it means, amongst a host of other things, that he alone stands outside human history and has a holistic view of it and is therefore in the best position to tell us what’s going on (of course, he’s also Creator of the world so he controls it too); and (2) Jesus is described as the Word because he alone tells us what God knows, accurately, not by a drawing or through music or dance, but in words. So when we testify, it should mainly be in words too, so that the content of our communication can be understood. (This makes the lyrics to the current earworm, Avalon’s Testify To Love, somewhat suspect.)

A Bunch of French Wines and Hofesh Shechter’s Political Mother

So this is what growing old feels like: the organ in the cranial cavity is whining and the detoxing organ threatened to throw a hissy fit yesterday morning for having to work on a white Burgundy before breakfast.

Hadn’t even made much use of the ethanol department of the liver this week, just introduced a few French acquaintances:

on Monday: Osmose Vins Cotes du Rhone Blanc AOC 2009 and Château Teyssier Pezat Bordeaux Rouge 2008 to accompany eye-opening wine gossip and prolonged discussion about the F&B industry in Singapore;

on Friday: several bottles of Jean-Paul Schmidtt Rittersberg Alsace Riesling 2008 (kept cold in rice-cooker ice-baths) and some cosmos while laughing about politics, literature and the difficulties of people who, like some of us, look pan-asian (but not in a gorgeous MTV Asia VJ way);

on Saturday: Jean-Pierre Berthenet Montagny 1er Cru Vieilles Vignes 2006 and Château les Bertrands Côte de Bordeaux Vieilles Vignes 2007, while the brain, after a whole work week of toggling between talking to people in Bangalore, Bangkok and Ho Chi Minh City, tried to absorb a few years’ worth of knowledge on the physiology of taste and wine-tasting procedures, wine chemistry, wine faults, wine service and Old World wines.

So i was grateful for the loud driving rhythms of Hofesh Shechter‘s Political Mother, showing at the Singapore dan:s festival 2011, and the mesmerising energy of the dancers, except it got rather repetitive in the middle and i was almost lost to sleep. After a week of cross-cultural communication and since we had only, a few hours ago, been discussing the different thinking of the Old World wine countries – France, Germany, Spain, Italy – and how this was shown in their styles of wine, wine laws etc, it was difficult not to watch the dance (or really, the theatre, since the music, lighting and costumes were equal partners) without trying to grasp the vocabulary of its movements. I’d been told previously that you couldn’t do this for Hofesh Shechter – he wasn’t like Martha Graham who had her own unique vocabulary (to which i’d countered that one seeking to express a message or theme with bodies as medium must surely attempt to communicate this in a series of movements that are meaningful or that can be made meaningful to the audience).

Already, aesthetic excitement got the camera trigger finger itching from Lee Curran‘s very evocative and effective spotlighting that negated the need for curtains, the grouping of dancers and use of stage space, and the manner in which chaos and confusion suddenly yet organically melted into conformity. The ambiguity of dancers’ movements at first frustrated understanding (eg. were their hands raised in supplication or adoration or were they held aloft by chains? was the vigorous trembling fear or excitement?), then there were the repeated motifs of dancers (prisoners? “the people”? rock band fans?) running in herds before one dropped out/got left behind and also of crowds protesting/celebrating before some of them seemed to lose interest and shuffled off (somewhat like the bear who ferociously attacked a couple in Pennsylvannia, then apparently “lost interest and left”). Also: samurai commiting hari kiri! ape suit inspecting prisoners! The hook in for me was the splicing between ranting dictator and crazed rock band frontman on a raised platform above the crowds – perhaps these scenes were not chronological per se but different interpretations of the same event: were the people being oppressed or were they choosing to be controlled? were they really political activists rebelling against a dictatorial regime or fan boys and girls protesting with the herd? did they really believe in what they were doing or just blindly following the in-crowd of the day?

It’s been something that i’ve wondered about all the political upheavals and other watershed moments in 2011 – the so-called Arab Spring, the freeing of Aung San Suu Kyi by the Burmese/Myanmar junta, the ouster of Libya’s Muammar Gaddafi, the parliamentary and presidential elections in Singapore. “الشعب يريد إسقاط النظام” (“The people want to bring down the regime”) – but for what reason? Did the masses consider both the good and bad of the current regime, the current reality?

Ending with Joni Mitchell‘s Both Sides Now was a clincher – “It’s life’s illusions I recall/ I really don’t know life at all”.

(A very humorous and humble Shechter seemed to confirm this interpretation in the post-performance Q&A session, saying that the idea for this dance was sparked by an argument he had with a stranger on a London street and how frustrated he was at the different realities perceived in close proximity to each other, conflicting with one another but that can somehow co-exist because people remember in one moment and then forget at the same time; the issue of parallel worlds within the same reality and the sense of being lost.

When asked if this dance was inspired by the conflict in his homeland Israel, Shechter laughed and said everyone seemed to think that all the conflicts in the world would be solved if they solved the problems in the Middle East, and no, there was no specific link.

In answer to someone’s question where the “Mother” was, he said she was back in Israel and that the title of the dance was not what was seen in the dance. And the sign “Where there is pressure there is folk dance” was just something he bought off Fos and thought he might throw it in for the audience to get thinking.

Perhaps he was being cheeky since he was reported to have indicated something quite different in the education pack for Political Mother, or perhaps there is a continuing evolution to the genesis and theme of the piece, even from the perspective of the choreographer.)

It’s interesting that this awareness of parallel worldviews within the same reality has permeated our ongoing study of the Book of Revelation (and in fact, the whole of the Bible), but without the uncertainty and lostness of Political Mother. Presented with reality, humans think that this world is all there is and therefore:

• we worship created things blindly without thinking that there is a Creator we should worship;
• we attempt to solve the little problems but refuse to see the corruption that attends every aspect of our lives or that it is incoherent to identify problems to be solved without considering why we should even think human rights abuses or the slaughter of dolphins wrong; and
• we look to our own devices for salvation (internally inconsistent philosophies, idealistic politics etc) without realising that through the whole of human history, we have never managed to solve any problems with communism or democracy or the political theory of the day.

It’s more interesting to consider that the Bible presents a God who continually challenges the psychotic human interpretation of reality and who always seeks to reveal the real reality to humans. Of all media, he uses words (surely the most accurate of all forms of communication) – through his prophets in the old days, through Jesus “the Word”, and today, in his word in the Scriptures. Cool stuff.

fka The Land of a Million Elephants (and the White Parasol)

Can one tell, solely by observing the urban design of a city (ignoring any suggestion of Brutalist etc architecture or design), that it is communist?

It hadn’t registered that Lao People’s Democratic Republic was a communist state until we drove into Vientiane from Thanaleng train station and there, the newly constructed Chao Anouvong Park promenade next to the Mekong River and parallel to Fa Ngum Road seemed to me an extraordinarily communist space.

On hindsight, there was no logical reason for this conclusion. Yes it was very similar to the riverside promenade of the Shanghai Bund for the sheer number of people using it as a communal space – cycling, exercising, rows of street snack vendors (selling food, souvenirs, toys including that yappy pink toy dog that does flips, now zhng-ed out with green laser eyes); the mere existence of photographers offering their services also recalled the Shanghai Bund as well as places of local interest in Vietnam (eg, the HCMC zoo). Perhaps it was the communal use of the public space that gave it the commie feel? But the Doha corniche is similarly occupied on Saturday evenings, and Qatar assuredly not of that political persuasion.

Also, the towering statue along the promenade isn’t of a Communist great but, in fact, of Chao Anouvong – the last Lao king of Vientiane. Altars had already been set up in front of the statute and there was a constant stream of worshippers. Just slightly ironic? Marx would have had words.

Up in northern Laos, no trace of practical communism either in Luang Prabang, which was very pretty in a self-conscious gentrified way. According to an ex-local monk I happened to chat with, many of the buildings were actually newly-built to look historical and you can see this in progress about town – old buildings smashed and colonial-style architecture rising from the rubble. The epitome of Baudrillard‘s Disneyland? Well whatever the heritage of Luang Prabang pre-UNESCO World Heritage List, the influx of tourists coupled with a healthy double dose of both observer effect and observer-expectancy effect must surely have messed with The Real so that by the time i visited, simulacra would have been splattered everywhere. Like a theme park, the whole get-up of the town exists to be seen by tourists, yet like residents of Ubud, Malacca and Penang, there are those make their livelihoods outside of the tourism/hospitality industry, and to whom the tourist-saturated markets are, like Souq Waqif in Qatar, a place for groceries (thereby partaking and encouraging the simulacra?).

Since present-day tourists have become conditioned to the stimulation of hyperreality, they act as if they are in a theme park. The tak bat (or bintakbhat or sai bat – daily dawn alms-giving for making merit, according to the Buddhist system of thought), especially, is a major performance for them – the temple drums at 5am, the roosters crowing, a line monks emerging from the morning mist from 6am to 6.20am…and despite pleading signs posted everywhere, loads of people either literally shoved their SLRs in monks’ faces yelling at each other as they ran after the monk line:”Oh my this is wonderful! Did you get that, Sue, didya? Hey Sue? Did you get that photo?!”, or buying inferior rice from touts (the women with baskets hung on poles across their shoulders, offering you rice and biscuits to give to the monks) and getting themselves photographed and videoed giving alms, looking straight into the monks’ eyes and talking to them (“Hey how are you? Here’s a big chunk rice for you. I’m sure it’s tasty. Right?”) and then declaring in rapturous voices afterwards how spiritually good this made them feel.

Every camera-touting tourist should read: “Important information concerning the monks’ morning almsround (tak bat)“.

In any case, one would be hard-put not to meet a saffron robe going about his business amongst the more than 34 wats that dot the city: after receiving the sticky rice alms (plus biscuits or fruit), the monks return to their temples and place a ball of rice as an offering to a Buddha statue. Then after some chanting, they eat communally in silence – some folk bring tiffin carriers with more food straight to the temples. Later, you’ll see novices sweeping the temple grounds and by 7.20am when the sun comes up, they head off to classes across town with their bags and brollies.

On a far less photo-opp scale, the Hmong people sell their goods at the night market – some seem to be the real thing but others are Lao-tian who allegedly sell “weavings” from Chinese or Thai factories. I wonder if they have all been told to tell tourists that they made the goods themselves. After all, we’re very accepting of horrendous imperfections if what is on offer is marketed as ethnic authenticity.

Still, it’s early days yet. The tuktuk drivers are not too insistent, and though children selling exorbitantly-priced tchotchke (“Sir buy something otherwise tomorrow I no school sir”) – that barometer of the impact of tourism, have already made their appearance, they aren’t at all driven by the enterprise and will wander off to look at something else before you can respond.

Unfortunately, thievery is on the rise – two Caucasian women (one Amercian and one English) separately said they had recently been robbed by people on motorcycles – one at night and the other in broad daylight.

What to think about the different systems of government? What to think about countries or towns moving to tourism as the main source of income generation – tourists want the mod-cons and yet authenticity and the locals want mod-cons and not the authenticity of outhouse toilets and lack of money or education? What to think of the attractiveness and aesthetic beauty of the spirituality of local belief systems?

Happened to be reading the Book of Isaiah during the week. Since Isaiah was written so long ago, it is relevant to us in a somewhat different way – Judah has long been destroyed, as predicted by Isaiah, but God has not changed and will act in the same way to similarly rebellious people .

1. God claims to be God over all the earth, not just the provincial god of Israel. Therefore we do not have the option of saying it is ok for Christians to have their God and other religions to have their own gods or their own beliefs about ultimate truth (Isaiah 13-23).

In Isaiah, God is the one directing the nations (Isaiah 5:26, Isaiah 14-20, Isaiah 23) and judges all who do not obey him (Isaiah 24-27, 34).

This is perfectly legitimate because it is God who gives rain for food and pasture for cattle, and who has control over all the natural world (Isaiah 30:23-26). He consults no one (Isaiah 40:9-17), since he himself made everything.God has authority over people and not people over God – humans cannot tell the true God what they want done by many offerings or rituals. Neither should people who successfully persecute God’s people think they are more powerful than God. Rather in certain cases, they are merely instruments in God’s hand (Isaiah 10:5-15) to punish his people for their rejection of him.

2. In the presence of this great and living God, the absolute folly of worshipping helpless and dead idols:

” Thus says the LORD, the King of Israel
and his Redeemer, the LORD of hosts:
“I am the first and I am the last;
besides me there is no god.
Who is like me? Let him proclaim it.
Let him declare and set it before me,
since I appointed an ancient people.
Let them declare what is to come, and what will happen.
Fear not, nor be afraid;
have I not told you from of old and declared it?
And you are my witnesses!
Is there a God besides me?
There is no Rock; I know not any.” All who fashion idols are nothing, and the things they delight in do not profit. Their witnesses neither see nor know, that they may be put to shame. Who fashions a god or casts an idol that is profitable for nothing? Behold, all his companions shall be put to shame, and the craftsmen are only human. Let them all assemble, let them stand forth. They shall be terrified; they shall be put to shame together.

The ironsmith takes a cutting tool and works it over the coals. He fashions it with hammers and works it with his strong arm. He becomes hungry, and his strength fails; he drinks no water and is faint. The carpenter stretches a line; he marks it out with a pencil. He shapes it with planes and marks it with a compass. He shapes it into the figure of a man, with the beauty of a man, to dwell in a house. He cuts down cedars, or he chooses a cypress tree or an oak and lets it grow strong among the trees of the forest. He plants a cedar and the rain nourishes it. Then it becomes fuel for a man. He takes a part of it and warms himself; he kindles a fire and bakes bread. Also he makes a god and worships it; he makes it an idol and falls down before it. Half of it he burns in the fire. Over the half he eats meat; he roasts it and is satisfied. Also he warms himself and says, “Aha, I am warm, I have seen the fire!” And the rest of it he makes into a god, his idol, and falls down to it and worships it. He prays to it and says, “Deliver me, for you are my god!”

They know not, nor do they discern, for he has shut their eyes, so that they cannot see, and their hearts, so that they cannot understand. No one considers, nor is there knowledge or discernment to say, “Half of it I burned in the fire; I also baked bread on its coals; I roasted meat and have eaten. And shall I make the rest of it an abomination? Shall I fall down before a block of wood?” He feeds on ashes; a deluded heart has led him astray, and he cannot deliver himself or say, “Is there not a lie in my right hand?”
(Isaiah 44)

3. Yet many to whom God has revealed himself and to whom he has given many opportunities to turn back to him; many to whom knowledge of the truth has been gifted, have scorned Him for worthless idols and rejected truth for lies (Isaiah 5:1-7). They, like all of us, rely on things that cannot help us – not just physical idols but also the idols (so-called because they promise to save but are powerless to do so) like diplomacy, the latest advances in warfare technology or the advice of seemingly powerful or successful people (Isaiah 31:1-3).

Whom should we trust and worship? Surely not our own fallible thoughts or the constructs of other similarly fallible humans but the One who made all things and controls all things and will judge all things in the end.

**************************************************************

Maps
While nice ladies at Vientiane banks might give you a local map together with the kip they are exchanging for your Thai baht or US dollars, you’ll need to purchase one in Luang Prabang.Very useful maps for Vientiane and Luang Prabang are produced by Hobo Maps. You can obtain an LP map at the Luang Prabang International Airport tourist information counter for US$3.

Because I love different modes of transportation:
Getting to Vientiane from Bangkok













Travelling from Bangkok to Laos was fun. Thanks to The Man in Seat Sixty-One, i knew to book a ticket online or at Hua Lumphong station itself. Boarded Train 69 – an overnight sleeper from Hua Lumphong, Bangkok. Air-conditioned second class was not bad at all – a man said to give him two minutes and very quickly and expertly laid the two facing seats flat to form a bed, made up the bed with clean sheets, accessorised with a clean comfy pillow in white case and sterilized cloth blanket in a sealed plastic bag, and hung up privacy curtains. At the “head” of the bed, there was an individually-controlled lamp and netting for small items. Dining staff came to take orders for dinner and breakfast from small kitchen in dining carriage. The toilets weren’t wet or smelly and there was even toilet paper. People also kept coming through to clean stuff and pick up rubbish. There were  hot water flasks in each carriage and when they took them away an hour before we arrived at Nong Khai at the Thai-Laos border, people charged their phones at the sockets. THB778 (S$31.35) was a good price for a nice night’s sleep (if you like me love to be lulled to sleep by the motion of a travelling vehicle) and the soft adventure of staring out at padi fields and getting snapshots of farmers’ lives.

At Nong Khai, the town at the border of Thailand and Laos, I bought a THB20 ticket for a much smaller ferry train (“International Train: Nong Khai – Thanaleng”) that would bring us into Thanaleng, Laos. No Lao PDR visa was necessary for citizens of ASEAN nations.

Chatted up a bunch of Japanese and Thai travellers and we shared an airconditioned minibus into Central Vientiane for 40,000 kip.

Getting around Vientiane
Most of the attractions were within walking distance – The Presidential Palace, Wat Si Saket, Wat Ho Phra Keo, Sacred Heart Catholic Church, Talat Sao morning market, That Dam, Lao National Museum, Lao National Cultural Hall and the Nam Phou Fountaine which people use as a landmark.

The Russian Circus, Patuxay and That Luang were a little further out so I hired a jumbo tuk-tuk for 40,000 kip (S$6) for an hour, down from 100,000 kip after some smiling and laughing at the ridiculous first price offered.

Guesthouse charged 50,000 kip (S$7.58) for an airconditioned minivan to Wattaya International Airport. I was late, so didn’t have time to shop around.

Getting from Vientiane to Luang Prabang
Car: Two Thai chaps I met when we shared a cab into town were on a southeast-asian Harold & Kumar roadtrip and asked if I wanted to come along for the drive along route 13 from Vientiane to Luang Prabang. I declined, suspecting they might appreciate their couple privacy.

Coach: The young people at hotel counters (except for the girl digging her toenails at Lao Youth Inn who said she’d never heard of The Plain of Jars) said domestic travel by VIP coach would be “no problem”. But I decided to go with the advice of an older Laotian travel agent in a little bare office who warned me against travelling by bus during rainy season:”Yes you can travel on coach but I am not sure what time you arrive.” There were reports that a bus got bogged down along a narrow muddy road for 3 days, causing an enormous tailback.

Plane: Since I’d promised to meet friends in Bangkok over the weekend, this meant the Vientiane – Phonsavanh – Sam Neua – Luang Prabang route had to be nixed, so I took my chances with Lao Airlines direct to Luang Prabang instead.

Lao Airlines, the national carrier, was a pleasant way to fly, even though the German chap next to me was sweatily nervous. In its previous incarnation as Lao Aviation, it didn’t have a good record of arriving at its destinations intact. If you’re headed from Vientiane to Luang Prabang, definitely get a window seat on right of the plane (an A320). There were beautiful views of lush hills and winding rivers when the plane tipped its right wing several times and even a fantastic rainbow (pointed this out to German neighbour but he only managed a grim smile).

Getting Around Luang Prabang
Taxi transfer from Luang Prabang International Airport is run by a monopoly charging a fixed fee of 50,000 Kip (S$7.58) into town. Price is same-same per minibus for up to 3 people.

While quite a few attractions were about the central area (thereby making said area the central area), there were some places further away so I rented a bicycle that came with a basket and China-made bicycle lock for 20,000 kip for the day (S$3). It would have had been prudent to check the brakes before encountering the first downhill slope. Helmets are apparently necessary only for mountain bicycles not city bicycles, and policemen are known to enforce traffic rules (eg. not travelling against traffic on one-way roads – see maps for details) against farang.

Luang Prabang to Bangkok

No time to faff about so grabbed the next available flight out. This is how much the Bangkok Airways flight cost in kip – ONE MILLIIIOOON! = US$230.

Jumbo tuktuk cost 30,000 kip from Central Luang Prabang to Luang Prabang International Airport, which was a cosy affair.

The left window seat on Bangkok Airways flight PG942 gave lovely panoramas (if you can stop your brain screaming “ox-bow lake development in progress!”) of the landscape between Luang Prabang and Bangkok.

The inflight Lao meal was surprisingly tasty – tuna laab, grilled chicken with spicy chilli dip, Luang Prabang sausage, sticky rice in banana leaf, mango crumble. Unfortunately, no Beerlao. 😦

Accommodation


Souphaphone Guest House seemed to be in a central enough location. Ensuite bathroom and toilet, television, air-conditioning worked fine. There was a cupboard with hangers and a safe. Heavy sliding doors were secured by padlocks, the keys to which you had to leave at the reception on your way out. My bed contained stray hairs from different parts of the body(ies) of previous occupant(s). No problem – I just slept in a silk sleeping bag instead.

Ban Pack Luck Villa also seemed similarly central but was more sumptuously decorated and the bed runners and sheets were very clean. No safe in room. The best room was the newer superior double (No. 3) room upstairs. You could soak in the bathtub and look at the top of Wat Nong Sikhounmuang or sit on verandah in the morning and watch the monk procession, out of the way of the milling crowd. It’s also across the road from L’Elephant Restaurant and Ock Pop Tok, and round the corner from Saffron and the Mekong.

Food
There are loads of restaurants willing to give you an introduction to Lao cuisine.

In Vientiane, there are the farang eateries around The Fountaine or

Khop Chai Deu where locals bring guests and monks. The tasting platter above includes a full shot glass of lao-lao, local whisky.

The night market in Vientiane gives you an idea of what locals really eat but they only do takeaway.

There are also loads of other small shops in what appear to be people’s houses to pop into and point randomly at menus.

If I had the time, I would have totally gone to the Beerlao factory just outside of Vientiane – nothing like a cool, refreshing lager from a company half-owned by Carlsberg.

In Luang Prabang, Tamarind (they’ve moved to King Kitsalat Road) is most well-known, with an Adventurous Lao Gourmet set as well for a minimum of two people. Tamnak Lao has ethnic performances some nights.

Both Tamarind and Tamnak Lao hold cooking classes, which are helpful for identifying flavours and generally understanding what you’re eating.

Most of the food places in Central LP were restaurants, though Canadian-owned Dyen Sabai has the added advantage of being in a slightly more exotic location across the Nam Khan river.

You get there by boat during wet season and by bamboo bridge that will be built during dry season. They have tasting platters and happy hours for cocktails while you lounge around and stare at the milk-tea-coloured river. Platter 2 consisted of smoky eggplant dip, Luang Prabang sausage, dried pork topped with sesame seeds, dried Mekong seaweed (usually called riverweed ‘cos Mekong is a river), sweet chilli sauce, sticky rice.

The night market in Luang Prabang accommodates tourists with 10,000 kip buffets – this includes just one serving of the carbs and veggies with fish and meat are extra. This wasn’t a really Lao food experience but a tummy filler for sure. With all the charcoal-grilling going on under the canvas, it was really hot and smoky – the Korean lady i was chatting with was dripping sweat into her Beer Lao.

Even if you’re not self-catering, the one-lane affair known as the morning market in Luang Prabang is well worth a visit, just to gawk at the weird and wonderful, like the tourist you are.

In a special category of its own:
Coffee and pastry

There was a little house called “The Little House” on Rue Manthatourat in Vientiane which advertised, intriguingly, “house-roasted coffee”. Unfortunately, they were closing when i got there. To be investigated.

I had a good latte at Joma Bakery Café in Vientiane made by the chap in the photo above at the branch near the Fountaine. Smooth and very much dark chocolate. But stodgy pastries. The quality was passable at their Luang Prabang branch though the Bagel Egger (egg, ham and cheese bagel) was warm and nice. Bought a bag of their beans – from the Jhai Coffee Farmers’ Cooperative (JCFC, Fair Trade), allegedly through middleman Lao Mountain Coffee. In any case, most coffee in Laos comes from the Bolaven Plateau in Champasak Province – Arabica beans in cool climate and volcanic soil.

Le Banneton in Vientiane and Luang Prabang were excellent for croissants and other pastries were crispy and flaky out but hot, buttery and chewy inside. It would be magnificent if they could be paired with the coffee from


Saffron. The even more intensely rich dark chocolate in the milk (compared to Joma’s) made for a delicious cup.

Grabbed a bag of their shade-grown organic Saffron Peaberry Medium Light Roast and another bag of Saffron Prime Medium Dark Roast for home experiments.

Cafe Ban Wat Sene in Luang Prabang (run by the same folk who own L’Elephant, Coconut Garden, Le Patio Cafe at TAEC and, allegedly Les 3 Nagas) was populated by older French men. Lonely Planet says they have the best croissant in town but these had been sold out by 9am. The remaining pastries seemed to have spent a touch too long in the microwave and were difficult to cut through even with a knife.

The best things about the American-run Arthouse Cafe along King Kitsalat Road were the bottomless cups of coffee (nutty chocolate, drip-brewed), very lemony lemon pound cake and Nam Khan River-side views. Their complimentary water comes from bottles – just so you know.

Shopping
Silk
Lao silk weaving in the country now known as Lao PDR has a long history. It was suppressed when the communists came to power but in the recent decade they have seen the economic and political benefits of legitimising links to royalty, encouraging Theravada Buddhism and entrepreneurship. You can purchase couture-quality silk products from Oudone Phimphrachanh‘s atelier or several Falang-owned air-conditioned shops in Vientiane: Mixay Boutique, Lao Silk Store and Carol Cassidy‘s >Lao Textiles all on Rue Nokeokoummane

In Luang Prabang, the Traditional Arts & Ethnology Centre is a good place to learn more about Lao textiles. In town, Sandra Yuck’s Caruso Lao sells pretty homeware with prices to match. Hmong folk sell some silk at the Handicraft Night Market (but keep an eye-out for Chinese/Thai reproductions) or you can trek out to Ban Phanom, the former royal weaving village 4 km to the north of Luang Prabang.

Ock Pop Tok runs weaving classes (US$45 for half a day!) at its weaving centre out of town – go to their town store to book a class and they’ll drive you out in their tuk-tuk. I won’t be changing my day job any time soon… The beal fruit tea and silk worm poo tea were interesting.

Personally not too keen on purchasing from foreign-run places especially when the interaction between farang boss and native employee in full sight of customers sounds very much like the good old money-making colonialism of the East India Company days and less about care for the disadvantaged or preservation of tradition or other such feel-good marketing spiel.

See also:
Lao Silk
New York Times’ In Laos, It’s All About The Weave
Weaving a Story in Laotian Silk

Basketry
Mr Bounma’s Bamboo Crafts in Ban Som
Basketry in Muang Ngoi Kao

Silver
Thithpeng Maniphone used to craft silverware for Luang Prabang royalty before 1975. There are other silversmiths around Ban Wan That as well.