This is the archive of BohemianPhilosophy.com from 2007. Or at least half of it. It was unfortunate that I accidentally my entries on phpmyadmin without making a back up first. I thought I was just deleting one unwanted entry… Thankfully, I managed to restore the last few months of the blog via my rss reader, feedburner and feedblitz and some comments. I’m so sorry for being such a klutz.
You can find the latest entries at BohemianPhilosophy.com
If I can get over the kiwi’s amusing accent (bid and brikfist; can you guess what does that mean?), anywhere in the South island is definitely a liveable place. After one week in bustling cities and towns of the North island, it was a refreshing change of scenery, air and mankind. The first city we arrived in is Christchurch, which also happens to be the last city (one week later) to catch a flight home to Australia. Christchurch has a very relaxing atmosphere in comparison to Wellington, our last leg on the North island. We spent a considerable amount of time just strolling around the Botanic Gardens only to find amazing array of flowers, including dahlias, in bloom. Everything seems to fall into their rightful places. The ducks swimming in the canal river, occasionally fighting for crumbs tossed by visitors. People relaxing on the grass. Humongous leaves beckoning at the mercy of the wind. Roses exuding heavenly scent. Dogs running amok in a nearby park. Council workers repairing roads. Teenagers on benches plotting to take over the world. Food lovers dining away to live music. Shops selling an obscent amount of souvenir merchandise. Everyone else just going about in their own business. It must be a lovely place to live in, I imagine. Believe it or not, I find it has a combined characters of Canberra and Adelaide. Small, cozy and comfortable.
At the heart of the city is the Cathedral Square, a center of endless activities; including the giant, playable chess set and open air market we chanced upon. Being a religiously revelant place, the square was filled with preachers preaching all sorts. An elderly man reading from the bible quietly to a group of audience. At the other corner, an almost eccentric-looking man pacing up and down yelling the words of God in argumentative tone. He sounded like someone who has been reading and memorizing the same text over and over again. It’s just the matter of regurgitating the right passage from his head.
However, nothing beats seeing The Wizard, apparently a great orator. When he started speaking, he could command great attention. Even the yelling preacher was silenced for a few moments. I was standing right outside the church looking at a car (presumably The Wizard’s. It was a Beetles - which I love - and was obviously modified by someone with a great sense of humour) when I saw an elderly man in a wizard outfit carrying a ladder towards the square. It wasn’t until he found a spot and promptly climbed two steps up the ladder and started talking about the wrongs of today’s education system that I went over to listen. I wondered if this is how it was in the times of Socrates or Plato. I could stay on forever listening to his speech. He has the kind of eccentricism I really like. Unfortunately, being a bloody tourist where time is a controlled luxury, we had to go. Fortunately, I’m glad to have seen something as amusing as this which I may not see again. I really like places and societies like Christchurch where uniqueness are welcomed.
A kind and wise face
Let me tell you something …..
Reaching a crescendo in oration
Stepping up
Can you tell what’s so different about this Beetle? (ps: That’s me on the right in my colourful hat)
Hmmm. My second post on craft and it already didn’t go as well as I planned. To cut long story short, I typed it saved it, copied and pasted to another entry, deleted the previous one (smart, eh?) only to find that I didn’t copied the entire text. And I spent at a while typing it too. How disappointing. While I won’t attempt to traumatise my brain into remembering a bunch of text that I no longer remember, I’ll at least give my best:
Recently, I cleared out parts of our wardrobe for additional space. I’ve always been good at folding things neatly away in hope that one day, just one day, I’ll be able to fit into that size 8 again. Apparently not. I found a pair of jeans that I like but was slight ripped and obviously, not longer fit. While I usually give away still-good clothes to charity, I don’t feel exceptionally good about ripped jeans. So, I decided to recycle for something else and head to my sewing machine.
Without a layout or plan in mind, I cut 15mm from the hem (of the leg), sew parts of the denim together using hand and machine, and hammer in some rivets and eyelets. I couldn’t help sewing together the ribbon and button (old and recycled too).
Admittedly, it took quite an effort to punch the rivets in proper place. You can tell that the break is uneven. Fortunately, it’s functional and tight so there’s very little to complain about.
I’m actually quite happy with this unplanned work. Apart from the design, I’m satisfied that I’ve recycled an old pair of jeans and buttons. You can see parts of the fabric that has faded and worn out. Isn’t that cool? However, I can’t quite decide what it is. A zipless pouch or purse?
I can’t exactly remember when I first started taking interest in craft. Was it sewn after watching my aunts and mom working on tapestry? Was it the time when I first discover a bagful of abandoned yarns and crochet needles? Was it after I carved my first block print? Was it during those painful art classes conducted by disinterested art teachers? I don’t quite remember. However, I do remember spending pocket money in my late teens buying colourful magazines on interior designs and crafts.
I remember giving out handmade greeting cards to school friends. I remember visiting paper shops just to look at the wide selection of pulp available. I remember spending hours at art galleries. I remember the crochet competition with school friends to see who can make the fastest and longest single crochet. I remember spending one after-school term watching a family friend working on her sewing machine. I remember working on old singer sewing machine belonging to family members of the previous generation. I remember lots and lots of arts and crafts from the past that warms my heart just thinking about it.
This will be my blog of the regurgitation, relearning and learning of arts and crafts. Enjoy.
Have you ever been intimidated by the sight of unfamiliar cuts of meat at the butcher or supermarket? Like a wounded soldier retreating from a war you were never meant to fight, you reluctantly head to the poultry section to pick up a packet of chicken breasts for yet another nondescript stir-fry. I hate that feeling.
A surge of bravery came forth recently and I picked up a small packet of beef ribs that I’ve seen often enough at the supermarket. While it was frozen to death in the freeze, I cracked my head wondering what to do with it. Should I become slightly pretentious and go all fusion? Or should I just stick to a boring but safe and simple choice? I choose the latter, typical of me.
Beef Ribs with Special Sauce
serves 2 as entree or small dish
4 beef ribs [NOTE 1]
3 tablespoons of vegetable oil
Wash and pat dry the ribs with paper towels. Place the oil in the wok and heat it at middle low heat. When hot enough, carefully [Note 2] put in the ribs, thinner side first, and cook for 2 minutes. Then turn over to the meatier side and cook for another 3 minutes.
Turn the heat to low and continue to cook the meatier side for 4 or 5 minutes until it’s cooked. Thicker meat takes longer to cook [Note 3]. Lastly, turn the over to the thinner side for 1 or 2 minutes before turning the heat off.
Dish it out on a plate lined with paper towel to soak up the excessive oil.
Proceed to make the sauce*.
Sauce recipe from Eggplant in Special Sauce (pg 164), Chinatown by Ross Dobson
1 tablespoon ground bean sauce
1 tablespoon hoisin sauce
1 tablespoon caster (superfine) sugar
1 teaspoon sesame oil
1 garlic clove, chopped
2 spring onions (scallions), white part chopped, green part thinly sliced on the diagonal
2 teaspoons grated ginger
Put the bean sauce, hoisin sauce, sugar and 3 tablespoons water in a small bowl and stir to combine.
*Following the beef spare ribs –> Drain all but 1 teaspoon of the oil from the wok. Add the sesame oil, garlic the white part of the spring opnion and ginger and cook over high heat for 10 seconds, or until aromatic, taking care that they don’t burn, Add the sauce mixture and bring to the boil for 3 minutes, or until the sauce begins to thicken and become syrupy.
Turn off the heat, serve the ribs on a plate, pour a little bit of the special sauce and then sprinkle the remaining spring onions onto the ribs. Transfer the rest of the sauce into a bowl for dipping.
NOTES
[1] Not spareribs. The beef rib is a lot meatier and thicker. However, do try and choose ribs that is not too thick. Otherwise, you might need to increase your cooking time.
[2] Beware of splattering hot oil when you cook or flip over the ribs. If need to, half cover the wok with a lid . Make sure the opening faces away from you.
[3] If it’s not entirely cook on the inside, put in the microwave for one minute. Cheating to save time and effort. That’s not bad….
The organic rose petals came from the garden
I baked some chocolate puddings yesterday.
It tasted very nice.
And so I took some photos.
Some nice, some not so nice.
I had a long day today so I said, “Freck. Let’s just post it”.
And off I went blasting to the tunes of Regina Spektor’s.
dark chocolate puddings with rich coffee liquer mocha sauce
from Tempted: 150 very wicked desserts (Murdoch Books)
serves 6
Ingredients
125g (4½ oz / ½ cup) butter, softened
115g (4oz / ½ cup) caster (superfine) sugar
1 teaspoon natural vanilla extract
2 eggs
125g (4½ oz / 1 cup) plain (all-purpose flour)
60g (2¼ oz / ½ cup) unsweetened cocoa powder
2 teaspoons baking powder
100ml (3½ fl oz) milk
60g (2¼ oz / heaped ⅓ cup) finely chopped dark chocolate
coffee liquer mocha sauce
30g (1 oz) butter
80g (2¾ oz / ½ cup) chopped dark chocolate
170ml (5½ fl oz / ⅔ cup) pouring (whipping) cream
1 teaspoon instant coffee granules
2 tablespoons coffee-flavoured liquer (such as creme de cacao or kahlua)
23g (1¼ oz / ¼ cup) roasted hazelnuts, skined and chopped [Note 1 & 2]
pouring (whipping) cream, to serve (optional)
fresh berries, to serve, optional
Preheat the oven to 180°C (350°F / Gas 4). Grease six 250ml (9fl oz/1 cup) metal moulds and put them on a baking tray. [Note 3]
In a medium bowl, beat the butter, sugar and vanilla with electr beaters for 2 minutes until thick and creamy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Fold in the combined sifted flour, cocaos and baking poweder with ametal spoon, adding the milk alternately with the flour mixture. Stir in the chocolate. Spoon the mixture into the prepared mould and smooth the surface. Bake for about 15 minutes or until risen and just firm to the touch. Leave for 5 minutes, then run a small flat-bladed knife between the puddings and the moulds and turn them out onto a wire rack.
Meanwhile, for the sauce, combine the butter, chocolate, cream and coffee granules in a small saucepan over low heat. Stir until the chocolate is melted and the mixture is smooth. Remove from the heat and stir in the liquer. Keep warm.
To serve, put the hot puddings on serving plates, pour over some of the sauce, scatter over a few chopped hazelnuts and serve with cream and berries, if liked.
The puddings and sauce can be reheated in a microwave oven just before serving.
NOTES
[1] To roast and skin hazelnuts, spread in a single layer in a roasting dish and toast in a moderate oven for 10 minutes or so, stirring occasionally, until fragrant and golden. Tip the hot nuts into a clean tea towel (dish towel), gather up the corners and rub to remove most of the skins. Not all of the skins will come off don’t worry about those that don’t.
[2] You don’t have to necessarily some ingredients especially the last 3 garnishing. It taste just as nice with the sauce.
[3] I don’t have a metal mould of the exact volume. I tend to use the one I always use for muffins and fill to the instruction. If you have something similiar but don’t want a big pudding, fill each mould to three quarter full instead.
[Storing] The puddings can be kept in airtight container for a maximum of two days. Chocolate sauce can be kept in the fridge for a couple of days too.
[Baking] I use fan-forced and the puddings actually needed another extra 5 minutes after doing a skewer test.
The inside of the pudding is quite moist and I can still taste chunks of chocolate which I deliberately did not chop too fine. The ingredients may some lot but they are rather basic and easily available. This is a must try.
I don’t normally do this but I couldn’t help writing this post after reading this article, “Where the beautiful people are” on Sydney Morning Herald’s Travel blog.
I respect that it is entirely based on the perception and experience of the writer but I have to laugh out loud when he said, “And finally, I have to go to an old favourite: South Africa. There’s a touch of arrogance there, but probably for good reason. The women, as I’ve mentioned before, look like little Charlize Theron clones.“. Ha ! Ha! Ha! When did he go there? 1950s when the apartheid was still in force? For the record, I haven’t been to South Africa but to be conceived with the thought that there are a lot of white Charlize Theron there is a little bit, urm, naive, no?
Of course there isn’t any mention of Asia. I think half the women in Singapore, Malaysia, Indian, Japan or even China (and others I left out) are extremely beautiful. Of course everyone Joe Block wants a catalogue wife from Thailand or the Philippines but nobody wants to admit how beautiful they are. And they are.
One country that deserves the mention is of course Australia (but I’m not sure why it wasn’t mentioned. I assume the writer has travelled to every nook and cranny of Australia enough to leave it out of his list. Psst, Melbourne girls are gorgeous!). However, I do agree with the writer when he put the English people in the list. Give me Hugh Grant, Colin Firth, Matthew MacFayden or Prince William anytime!
There goes my confidence. I feel like an ugly duck now.
Will you be surprised if I tell you that 6th February this year marks my 10th year away from Malaysia, where I was born and grew up? I couldn’t believe it it either.
Two weeks ago in New Zealand, I realised that it’s been ten years since I left Malaysia. Once we arrived back in Canberra, I had a look at my old passport to confirm my departure date. So wow, it has been ten years.
I was just 17 when I had my very first full-time job as a bank clerk in Malaysia. While I was working there, I almost applied for a banking course which, upon graduation, will qualify me to apply for a higher position as a bank executive. There was even comtemplation of getting staff loan. Fortunately, as destiny would have it, I didn’t. And I’m glad it didn’t happen.
Instead, I crossed the border, started a fresh job, fresh life and breathe in the air of freedom as an 18 year old. At that age and phase in my life, I really thought that I was immortal. At 21, I naively (and arrogantly) thought that I’m really that old and I’ve experienced life. Little did I know, there’s still a long way to go.
I’ve now reach an age that I’m actually quite proud of. The last two years battling with personal and family problems have actually serve as a foundation and lesson to the life I have today. The life I want to lead tomorrow. I still don’t know what life is ahead when I’m thirty eight, fourty eight or fifty eight.
But what I do know is that I’m trying very, very hard to live in the present and the future and try to achieve the things I’ve said I want to achieve. For a sentimental person like me who cling on dearly to a past and ideals that no longer exist, it’s going to be a challenge.
There were ups and downs, sweat and tears, anger and joy that will probably take more than a blog entry to tell. But then, there really is nothing to tell. As amazing as it is so far in this journey I call mine, it’s exclusively mine in which I share with a few others. The only storage place I can afford to fill in right nnow is the organic thingamajic that lives inside my head. Of course there are people that I wished I’ve never met and things I’ve never done but what’s bygone is bygone. Memories are the reference to the good times and bad times we have had.
10 years is perhaps a meaningless number, especially to someone who might’ve taken one lifetime to achieve a single goal. I am still a non-achiever. But who knows? Maybe the next coming ten years will bring better future and better luck. There’s a lot more to learn and a long way to go. I’m really looking forward to the next ten years ahead.
I wonder. I wonder what’s life down ahead in the next ten years? Will I look back in 10 years wondering what I have achieved and what I’ll be achieving in another ten years?
I can’t wait.
Steer - Missy Higgins
This is for those who have been at the edge of that ledge.
Nightminds - Missy Higgins
—–
In addendum: Before posting this entry, I gave a call to my mother and we actually had a very nice conversation though mostly was of her asking me about my current status in life while I try to field it. At one point while telling her about something, I was almost tearful but was soon suppressed enough to carry on the conversation. I think I’m finally learning how to not take to heart the way she transpire her thoughts and concerns about me. I also think she must’ve somehow learnt to correctly express what she wants to say. It’s a two-way communication, I told her. She wants many things of me (good things, mainly expectation and hope of a daughter) that I cannot promise or deliver at the moment. Some day soon, I hope I can.
You’ll be utterly disappointed if you thought that I’ve disappeared from the face of the earth. We jetted over to NZ to attend a wedding before taking on a road trip all over New Zealand that started from the North Island and finished at the beautiful Christchurch in the South Island.
While it was only a short two weeks and only to New Zealand, coming home to Australia made me realise how much I actually miss Australia. I hope that many who’ve travelled far more and further than me will agree. I will perhaps not mind living in Singapore again in a heartbeat but right now, my home is in Australia and boy!, am I glad to be home.
While in NZ, I observed certain things that I’ve come to dislike but when put in perspective, it’s not that different from anywhere else. Fortunately, the memorable experiences we had superseded the unpleasant ones. My photographing activity was rather irregular while in NZ. In fact, he took more photographs than I did. Instead of uploading a whole heap of photos, I rather follow-up with posts that highlight the memorable ones (not necessary in chronological order). So here’s the first.
Queenstown, South Island
This is the last leg of our trip before flying back to Christchurch to catch a flight home. It’s a touristy resort town (also popular amongst the working backpackers) but also a breathtaking place to be at. The surrounding scenery was amazing. Watching the sun setting behind the mountain over dinner is even more amazing.
Tourists seem to be in abundance. Queenstown is pretty much a resort town and thus not surprising to see foreign faces and hear foreign languages all the time. Half of the people working in the restaurants, shops and such are foreigners, presumably backpackers. During winter, the town in transformed into a ski resort courtesy of the neighbouring, surrounding mountains. There are of course locals from neighbouring states and town visiting this pretty little resort. We encountered a couple who came from Milford Sound while jetboating. Yes, we did jetboating and that’s about the most extreme of an activity I’ve done in NZ. Hang on a minute. There was another one in another place so I’ll leave it for another day to tell you the story. With the jetboat, it was the excitement of all kinds in a pack. It didn’t give you the sort of adrenalin rush a bungy jumping would. However, it was fast, it was crazy and it was cold as we gusted through the wind. The water in the lake and dam was extremely clear, the scenery was just amazing and we had a fun guide who kept us entertained.
Being a resort town, Queenstown can keep you entertained with other extreme sports like bungy jumping, paragliding, luge ride (we did that too. 3 times, heh) and other activities requiring a little bit of travelling or booking to reach (read: That’s when things get a little bit extreme - white water rafting, rock climbing, sky diving, canyon swinging). I would’ve love to do half of those if I have the money or stomach for it. But alas.
(EDITED on 14 Jan: Realised I didn’t really give a better description of Queenstown so I”ve added two paragraphs above.)
I have a couple of dislikes that I couldn’t help noticing. The thought of hiring backpackers to work in the hospitality industry (including restaurants, pubs, souvenir shops) is lovely. However, I find half of those I’ve come across are not as motivated as one should be in the hospitality industry. They are not rude but just somehow lack the warmth to make you feel welcome. And this is not limited to Queenstown. However, I might be wrong and would’ve certainly liked to know the thoughts of the working backpackers if we had enough time.
The Chinese blood that run in me couldn’t resist a good bargain. If not a good bargain, I want to at least make sure that I’m not being ripped off or taken for a ride. I spotted a facial product at Wai-o-tapu that I liked, bought and use during the trip. It cost NZ$12.50. Deciding to get another tube afterwards, I started looking around but find that the price gets higher and higher until it reaches NZ$18.50 at a tourist shop in Queenstown. The shop, over-ran with Japanese staff is obviously catered to the Japanese tourists.
—–
Lake Wakatipu, just before entering the town. Stopping at the lookout was a bad idea as it was freezing cold and I was almost blown away. Note the continuous stream of cloud.
Staying at the Rydges, we had a million dollar view which overlook the lake and its surrounding mountains.
Riding the gondola up to the top. Not my favourite ride. Height doesn’t scare me but it intimidates when you couldn’t help thinking what would happen if that thang fell.
View from the top. Chilly, windy and still amazing
Caught the sun retreating behind the mountains
The same lake, slightly past glenorchy and before the next town, I think. The water is as clear as a spring
Today’s blog entry is all about mystery.
When my family was over here recently for a visit, they brought over a very descriptive packet of pastry (amongst other things including peanuts & heong peah) and my aunt proceed to describe to me what was inside the pastry. Being a good Chinese, I ate at anything given without looking at the label. It was a lovely sweet pastry with pork floss and some bean paste. The better side of my curiousity got into me as I want to know what I just ate. So I looked intently at the package. Lo and behold, the packet was full of descriptions and even ingredients of every other cookies and pastries that this particular company manufactured, save for the one the packet is carrying. I looked and looked and looked again. Nada.
How on earth am I ever going to tell my family to get the exact same snack for me the next time they are going to be here? I don’t even have a generic name to refer to. For the time being, I can only refer it to, “Pork Floss Mysterious Pastry”. Hah.
—–
I hate being sick. But sick I am:
17 Jan 2008
Mid-morning: Chatted with Ms Sayang and my family on MSN. Immediately afterwards, my head hurts so I took two panadols. Ms Sayang even said, “A couple, not a few”, when I told her I’m taking a few.
Noon: I felt a chill and wore a jumper. It was summer and outside was scorching hot. I bet the house was like a giant heater, except that I couldn’t feel it. The headache became more like a “I’m burning like I’m getting fever” pain and not “I’m having a migraine” pain. It didn’t escalate though.
Afternoon: By then, I was much better and thought it was gone. I even made a nice Vietnamese-like beef noodles based roughly on the book, Secret of the Red Lantern.
18 Jan 2008
Midnight: The temperature outside started to drop and it became slightly cooler. By then, I was already in my long sleeves, long pants flannel pyjamas. I resisted putting on a pair of socks and hid under the summer doona.
Morning: Feeling slightly better, I get on with my work.
Afternoon: Feeling like shit. Took two panadols. Or more. I don’t remember.
Dinnertime: He came home to sort dinner out because I was feeling too shitty to do anything.
Night: I thought I was slightly better. I didn’t even chuff when told that I’ll be receiving 46MB word document relating to the editing assignment I’ve been working on.
19 Jan 2008
Midnight: I have a love and hate relationship with medicine since a child and resisted taking anymore panadols since I’m feeling much better. Boy oh boy it was the worst decision I’ve ever made.
3-ish am: I was tossing, turning and grunting in pain. My head hurts like someone had just cut the top of my skull open. Woke him up and he told me to take a couple of panadols. Took panadols and continue whinging until I settled. My tummy was not feeling as glorious a while after the panadols went it. I thought it was just normal, along with the splitting headache I had. Still, it was miserable.
5-ish am: The panadols seems to be effective for a short while. I woke up tossing and turning again until I felt my stomach churning. I made a small burp, hoping that it was just a burp I needed to get rid of the heart-burn/indigestion like pain. It didn’t help as I tossed, turned and grunted more. Instead of fighting the pre-puke agony (you know what I mean if you’ve bonded with enough toilet bowls), I let it keep coming and head straight to the toilet bown. All out it came. Brushed my teeth, got rid of the horrible taste in my mouth and went back to sleep. Unfortunately, the pain still persist.
7-ish am: Woke up in agony, again. Not only the top of my skull is being removed, it was also being smashed. Thinking that sleeping might not help (duh!), I went outside and watched a taped episode of Gordon Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmare. Had one panadol and fell asleep in between advertisements. Tummy was still feeling awfully akward and I thought all that is needed is some food. Miss Wise proceed to consume half a Heong Peah (courtesy of the family that came here recently). What a bloody waste of that Heong Peoh for in less than 10 minutes, I rushed straight to the toilet bowl and puked again. Lovely.
I try to continue watching the show. Couldn’t. I to to fall asleep on the couch. Couldn’t. I paced around the family room whinging something along the line of, “Oh, it hurts” over and over again until it creeps me out. I was contemplating waking him up to send me to hospital so they’ll put me on drip and knock me out with some sedative.
8-ish am: So I went back to the bedroom, whine a little more and then fell asleep until 11.40am. In between all the interrupted sleeps, I think I only had 5 hours which is by many standard a good one. Not discounting the fact that I feel like shit during those interrupted sleeps.
I’m feeling much better now, eating as cautiously as I can and even able to finish a short assignment forwarded to me yesterday. I think I will not be a smart aleck so I’ll go and pop two panadols before bed as a precaution. Thinking back, the entire episode felt unreal like a scene from a horror movie that flashes, “24 hours earlier….” when it was all calm and quiet before the storm. Phew.
I still don’t know why I was sick. Was it a fever, a bug I caught or just a case of migraine gone bad? It was nothing but a msytery.