Category Archives: Events

Events I attend.

Freezing in Perth (aka my first winter in Perth).

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It’s officially winter down under and for the life of me, I can’t explain why I thought Perth would be as warm as, if not warmer than, Brisbane this time of the year. Sure, we do crank up the heater once in a way in ol’ Brisvegas during winter, but Brisvegas has nothing on Perth when it comes to mercury plummeting.

On paper, the temperature difference between one coast and another is a minuscule couple of degrees. In reality, it’s the difference between wearing a light jumper in the day (Brisbane) and full winter gear (Perth). So if you are headed this way, consider it a friendly piece of advice from your not-so-local weather bureau to pack as if going to Melbourne – the cold is usually more of the dry variety here, as opposed to Melbourne’s wet, but after a characteristic seasonal downpour, you might think it is one and the same.

I certainly did this past week, taking refuge under the covers the whole of the long WA weekend with the heater turned on high enough for Amanda to have a nose bleed and myself, a very dry throat. On the upside, this presented me with the perfect opportunity to teach Amanda a new word: hibernation.

“Doesn’t that only apply to animals?” she asked, rather miffed we were going to spend 3 seemingly good days (by her standards anyway) in bed.

“Yes, but it should also apply to humans. After all, we would save a lot of food and water if we all just plugged up our bums, the way bears do, before nodding off to a 3-month-long sleep.”

Amanda was not convince of these benefits of hibernation so HRH promised to take her to K-mart in exchange for 2 days of holing up with us in the heated bedroom.

“K-mart!” she squealed, her eyes brightening.

I swear K-mart should pay me for all the free promotion Amanda gives them. She told the owner of our regular Chinese restaurant, Lisa, about the promised trip, when we ventured out of our burrow for dinner (alas, human hibernation has to be punctuated by meal and toilet times), and the way she said it, it was as if we were taking her to Disneyland! But at least that ensured her co-operation as we spent yet another day buried under our IKEA-bought, mid-weight, King size doona.

“Do you know you slept 20 out of 24 hours yesterday?” asked HRH when I opened my eyes yesterday morning.

“I’m practising to be a bear,” I said to him.

Last week I was practising to be a cat (read: took fewer baths). Now, having experienced the difficulty of sleeping on an empty stomach for extended periods of time, I have new respect for hibernating animals. Rather than view them as lethargic, defeatist, elements in nature, I’ve come to see that getting oneself to doze off to a fiercely growling stomach takes incredible will power and forbearance. As for why I would have to endure the discomfort of an empty stomach, let me just  remind you that mine refuses (and has refused for weeks on end) any food offered to it after 6 pm, thereby leaving me no choice but to fast until 7 am the next morning.

To console myself, I’ve marked all 2 months and 26 days until the end of winter; in the way that only humans seem capable of, I’ve also deluded myself into thinking it’s not that long a spell  and it could be worse if I was living in Siberia. Oh, and if there is one thing to be cheery about deep in the throes of winter, it’s Heston Blumenthal’s slated visit to Margaret River for the Margaret River Gourmet Escape, to be held between 22nd and 24th November, mid-spring. Be sure to mark that down in your diary, gourmet enthusiasts. You want to be booking accommodation NOW if you hope to score anywhere for less than $450 a night.

In the meantime, to keeping my frozen bottom warm, I’ve dug out the possum-wool poncho I bought a year ago in New Zealand, especially for dismally cold days like these. I’ve stocked up on the essentials – instant sachets of warm drinks, cream biscuits, what I’ve been told are “toxic” instant noodles – to stop myself from traipsing out more than necessary in the cold and paid up my utility bills – to make sure no one turns off the heat, even if I have to once in a while with Amanda’s bloody nose and me croaking up balls of greenish phlegm. If you feel for me (as you must since I am famished and cold), do send food parcels, knitted jumpers and sunshine my way. PM me for a send-to address. My frozen bottom and I humbly thank you.

 

By Estella Dot Com turns 1 today!

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Dear readers,

I’m pleased and proud to announce By Estella Dot Com turns 1 today. Thank you for your generous support and many useful suggestions thus far. Like many a new parent, I’ve been trying to make this child of mine fit some lofty vision of parenting. To my chagrin, I’ve found it’s no different to parenting a real, flesh-and-blood child, in that the idealised vision swiftly gives way to the needs and practicalities of day-to-day life.

The child, once thought to be a passive participant in the parenting exercise, is no less assertive than a hungry baby left alone in a cot. It demands of you a great deal more fortitude, patience and energy than you bargained for, testing your resolve at every step not to abandon it in favour of a good night’s sleep and some precious “me-time.”

And so it has been with this blog.

Because By Estella Dot Com remains very much a 1 person venture (ie. me), I’ve often found myself holding a squalling infant, technically and editorially. What started out as a bare-bones affair of text and the odd picture, has slowly morphed into a semi-polished site. Excuse the continued use of parenting metaphors, but we’ve gone from nappies to diaper pants, sole milk feeds to first solid foods, not much physical movement to crawling. Much can still be done to improve the look and feel of By Estella Dot Com, but as I have yet to master programming, this will take awhile.

I may mention a business or product from time-to-time but please know, I receive NO remuneration for doing so. Friends and family may lobby me to give them free press but I only do so if the post I’m writing calls for it. Most are only too happy for me to leave them alone or portray them in a sufficiently benign light, given my propensity to reflect on the past.

About that, I suppose my tendency to look back is borne of a deep need to always take stock of where I’m going because from experience, there is no greater predictor of where I’m going than where I’ve already been. I’m a glass half-full kinda gal, so even with all this looking over the shoulder, I still say my best days are yet to come, even if things are already pretty good right now.

Looking forward, I hope to bring you more stories with heart and perspective on matters relevant to modern, transglobal, multi-cultural living. I anticipate more spirited dialogues with many of By Estella Dot Com’s regular readers, who often hold views very different to mine. I welcome comments from others who’ve so far only sent me private messages or stayed silent, even as I maintain the right to moderate such comments. As civilised human beings, we can all say our piece in a peaceful fashion, regardless of the number of raw nerves touched.

With that, I thank you once again for reading my blog. Feel free to share posts with your nearest and dearest or simply folks you think might be interested in my various ramblings and postulations. Ours has been a fascinating discourse between author and reader I’m very much keen to continue.

XOXO

In support of National Assessment Plan for Literacy and Numeracy (NAPLAN)

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I’m well aware I’m in the minority of parents who welcome today’s NAPLAN test. The majority of parents tremble at the prospect; some have openly denounced NAPLAN as nothing more than an exercise aimed at rating teacher’s performances to justify school funding and wage increases. Some say it unduly exposes children in Years 3, 5, 7 and 9 to stress – that life skills cannot be reliably measured using a series of standardised tests.

To them I say: would you rather your child’s first test be in Year 12? Or are you expecting them to be admitted into the University or Tafe of their choice based on a bunch of “feel-good” qualities that only you, as their parent, know of?

Some assert periodic assessment by the class teacher is enough to determine a child’s grasp of the “need-to-knows.” Bah! How do you know it is? I have a lovely tale for you.

There are 3 Year 3 classes in Amanda’s school. Since I get around quite a bit, I know parents whose kids are in the classes adjacent to Amanda’s. Those in the class next to mine have voiced their anxiety over their children not knowing how to tell the time, or gauge probability or even simple things like their 3 times table. One particularly concerned parent even went so far as to request a meeting with the class teacher, who assured her everything is fine. “The kids are only in Year 3,” she said.

“She might say that, but my kid doesn’t even know Year 2 work,” said the parent to me.

“And when your kid gets to Year 4, she won’t know Year 2 or 3 work either,” I said.

Those parents have every reason to fear NAPLAN and every reason to want to blame the system, citing GONSKI’s findings as reason for their child’s underperformance. If you ask me, by doing so, they take on the “poor me” victim mentality and abnegate their sacred duties as parents. But that’s just me.

Meanwhile, those in Amanda’s class are not just ready for NAPLAN, they’re actually looking forward to it. As I told Amanda when we started preparing back in January, “You will silently thank me when you see the NAPLAN test. Unlike the others, you will have no fear. You will cruise through it without breaking a sweat.”

Did Amanda willingly prepare for NAPLAN with me?

At first I had to threaten her, withhold privileges and offer up rewards in exchange for compliance but the day she aced a practise maths test, as the only one in her class (and I suspect all 3 classes) to get a perfect score, she came to me and said, “Thank you mama. You were right. I have nothing to fear now.”

Oh, and in case you think tests like NAPLAN only produce book-smart children, think again. Preparing for NAPLAN has taught Amanda discipline, perseverance, the need to read and understand a question before tackling it, it has primed her to think critically, to see how what she knows can be extrapolated to fit different scenarios.

Unlike in Asia, where it is all about memorising tables or facts, the Australia education system puts emphasis on knowledge application. Take maths for instance. Due to Mrs B and Mrs D’s stellar teaching of the current curriculum, Amanda can not only tell time but tell me how many hours and minutes there are until a particular time. She can convert hours into minutes and back into hours, if need be. Or divide a bag of 64 cookies among 4 people with ease. She can tell me how much change I should get from $10 if items purchased are $1.50 and $2.70. Or the probability that the items I’ve bought are one kind or another. She knows that ½ can be expressed as 2/4, 3/6, 4/8, 8/16 and an infinite number of fractions, and that they all mean exactly the same thing.

When it comes to English, she can easily write 2 to 3 pages in support of a particular argument, with a decent introduction, ending and 3 points in between. She can spot misspelled words, faulty grammar, provide correct punctuation. She comprehends syntax and semantics. What more can I, as the parent of an 8 year old, Year 3 student, ask for?

Since you don’t know my child, you may ask me, “How does all this help foster creativity? Independent thinking?”

I will answer you, “Look at that wonderful house you live in. Would you still be happy to live in it if it wasn’t built to safety standards? What are safety standards but a bunch of numbers calculated based on size of dwelling and strength of materials used? Yet, those numbers are necessary, aren’t they? Regardless of how wonderful the building looks, how eco-friendly the design is, how well it blends in with the environment, you wouldn’t want to live there for a second if you couldn’t be sure that the thing will hold its form without collapsing on you.”

“Same goes for the bridge you drove across this morning on your way to work. Or the medicines you took with your morning coffee. You want quantifiable facts in support of what you consume, because “feel-good” based on nothing solid is simply a con.”

The same, dear readers, goes for education. You want to be dead certain your child is on track for his or her Year; not just based on your personal bias because that’s playing a very dangerous game with your child’s future. He or she will not thank you when failing to get into the course or university of their choice. Of course, if you’ve been playing the anti-establishment, anti-system, anti-convention game so far, you can continue to do so by blaming the system, the establishment, convention and everyone around you.

However, since the dye has yet to be cast, I urge you to cast your view towards wider society where progress is made by mastering and building on the basics. Even if your child were to be as creative a person as Lady Gaga, for whom neither maths nor English is necessary, aren’t you the least bit concerned that he or she might be taken for a ride by his or her accountant or manager? Think about your various criticism’s of NAPLAN and broaden your perspective to take in ALL of your child’s future. You’ll realise that if you embrace orthodox schooling, embrace regular attendance, embrace standardised testing, and help your child prepare for these challenges, you have nothing to lose but everything to gain, in the form of a well-educated, well-rounded child.

7 ways to change Malaysia (apart from voting in GE13)

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Presented with the opportunity, we must certainly exercise our constitutional right and privilege to vote. However, there are others things that we, as citizen Joes and Janes, can do to combat rampant corruption, escalating crime, rising living costs and declining education standards.

Based in Australia, where people are not only encouraged to speak up but to get actively involved in community affairs, I’ve come to view societal participation of the individual as key to effecting change.

I’m not suggesting that these simple measures will wipe out RM500billion worth of national debt or narrow the divide between the super rich and hardcore poor, but if everyone adopts them, change will be imminent, even if at times, very hard won.

1)  Stop paying bribes.

This came to me when a friend said, “Even if there is a change of government, so what? There will always be corruption because we’ll choose to pay coffee money instead of receiving a summons from a traffic officer.”

If you feel corruption is endemic in society, then don’t be part of it. You can’t pay your way out of traffic infringements and around the bends in the law and then suddenly expect people to be honest mid-way through the food chain or at the top. If you want corruption gone, work within the framework of the law. Pay your summons; refuse to grease wheels to make them turn in your favour. If enough people put their hands back in their pockets, the bribe-taking folks will soon get the message they’ve to ask proper authorities for higher wages instead of moonlighting as toll collectors.

2)  Join your local neighbourhood watch (rukun tetanga). Know your neighbours. Watch out for each other.

Yes, it’s a dog eat dog world, but we can’t prosper, even if we can survive, alone. When you are friendly with the neighbours, they’ll watch your house for you and you for them. Someone will take in the mail when you are not around so you don’t alert the robbers to your absence. Someone will water the plants for you or feed the cat, so you won’t signal to low lives, “I’m not home. Come and rob me!”

By joining the neighbourhood watch and knowing your neighbours, you’ll know the faces that belong in your neighbourhood and those that don’t. Those that don’t, if not neighbour’s guests, are most likely thieves, robbers or similar scumbags.

3)  Call the police if you see suspicious behaviour.

This is common sense and they actually teach this in school, but how many pick up the phone if they see something untoward happening in the house next door? The old Chinese will say, “Less one problem is better than more one problem. Mind your own business.” Well, it will become your business sooner or later if you do nothing about it. I’m not asking you to be a vigilante or a cape and mask-wearing Marvel Comic Book hero; I’m asking you to exercise your civic duty as a concerned citizen. Pick up your handphone to record suspicious sightings when you are out and about to show to the police. Jot down car license plates of strange vehicles rounding your neighbourhood – they’re probably scoping out which house or person to rob. Police need tangible leads to work on. Be the eyes and ears that keep your area safe.

4)  Volunteer your time. Form Groups. Get involved.

Do you want to have greater say in your child’s education? Or perhaps have ideas to improve the education system? Apart from writing in to the papers to complain about the current system, ask your child’s school if you can spend some time volunteering in class. Get to know the current curriculum first, before tearing it down. If you still have reservations, join action groups to agitate the government for change. There is power in numbers. If none exists, consider forming your own group. Don’t have the time? Then you don’t have the time to complain either. Don’t be a backseat driver. Do something about your own complaints.

5)  Stamp out the money culture.

Sure, money makes the world go round, but did you know that overt materialism is also responsible for deforestation, poor air quality, poor water quality, corruption, blasé attitudes among the civil service…the list is pretty endless. And do you know why this is so? When everyone is focused on materialism, no one thinks that the new toys of today might end up in landfills of tomorrow, or the ink used to dye the perfect, must-have, pair of blue jeans might be polluting the drinking water of an impoverished riverside community somewhere…The desire for more money, more goods, just more of everything manifests as a money grab by everyone from the trash collector who demands his New Year ang pow all the way to the highest echelons of society who plunder the national coffers.

Ask yourself: are you contributing to the problem through conspicuous consumption?  

6) Vote with your feet.

Often, the price of essentials like flour, sugar, oil and salt, might go up a paltry couple of cents per litre or kilogram, but shopkeepers and restaurateurs see this as an excuse to raise prices across the board. If you think  a price hike is unjustified then don’t fuel demand. Use less, walk away, or find a substitute. If enough people react to price hikes by turning away, prices will come down to reflect a downturn in demand.

Similarly, there is no reason to tolerate shoddy treatment from your service providers or vendors. If they don’t value your business, take yours elsewhere.

How about rising petrol and toll costs? Car pool. It’d also help with the congestion on the road and protect you from would-be muggers who target drivers of single occupant vehicles.

7)  Enrol your child in a national type school.

As Chinese schools revert from teaching science and maths in English to Mandarin, another friend lamented the potential divide between those Chinese-educated and other Malaysians. As she rightly pointed out, people need language to communicate so how does only speaking a language not spoken by others, help national unity?

Even non-Chinese educated Chinese think and act differently to Chinese-educated Chinese. There may be a growing number of non-Chinese attending Chinese schools but they are still a minority. Unless Chinese schools halt the decision to return to teaching science and maths in Mandarin, I’d suggest you send your children to national type schools where they have better chance of picking up decent English and the official language of the country, Malay. Like it or not, Malay is the language used at all levels of government and their inability to read, write or express themselves adequately in the language won’t just make them aliens on home soil but also make them vulnerable to fraudsters who capitalise on this deficiency.

The bottom line is if you want a more caring, safer society, you are going to have to become involved. You are going to have to take a stand against corruption at all levels, not just the fat cats at the top of the tree. You are going to have to make yourself heard and visible somehow. If you keep saying, “I don’t want to get involved”, “It’s not my problem”, “I don’t want to court problems” then you have no one to blame for society’s decline but yourself.

P/s Do remember to vote on 5th May!

Dear Future Government of Malaysia.

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Dear Future Government of Malaysia,

I have no interest in politics or politicians. However, since Malaysia’s General Election is once more upon us, I see it fit, as a proud, if absent, daughter of the country, to share with you the average Malaysian’s dream for our beloved country.

Many might contend I am the wrong person to speak for the average Malaysian, since I live abroad, and have done so for close to 15 years, but believe you me, the human heart knows neither reason nor geography. Although Australia has graciously housed my family over the years, affording me the freedom of speech and expression you see here, a large part of me still hankers for the familiarity of roots, of home.

It’s true what they say about childhood: it’s the time of our lives when foundations are laid. In my childhood, I played hopscotch and  ”five stones” under trees raining red saga seeds, lost a couple of baby teeth munching on leathery keropok lekor, and every monsoon season, especially on the East Coast where I lived for 3 years, wondered if the Malay boys kicking football in the rain were going to catch anything more than a cold.

Thanks to the national-type schools I attended, I made many friends of different races who I’ve kept in contact with until today. My Malay friends in particular, are often surprised I not only still speak Malay but do so rather well, choosing to do so when communicating with them, even though we can all speak English. Given the persecutory policies that led to my being based in Australia and the generally tense state of affairs between Chinese and Malays, I’m glad our friendships have survived time and distance. It’s testament to the fact that regardless of race or religion, Malaysians have more in common with each other than we do with anyone else.

Outside of Malaysia, or at least in cyberspace, away from the racial polemics typifying Malaysia’s social and political landscape, we get on like a house on fire, united by concern over the same issues: increasing costs of living, declining personal safety, affordability of education for our young, welfare for the old and infirm. Over here, we’re all minorities, indistinguishable by the local population from one another. On the world stage, we are one among many Asian nations – something I hope voters think about when they arrive at the polling booths this 5th of May, for Malaysia’s General Election. Regardless of race or religion, we are all bound for the same destination. As a people, we can put our racial and religious differences aside and concentrate on the important issues at hand, or we can bend to the will of those who will use our differences against us and go backwards.

It is my fervent wish that one day, when I speak of Malaysia, I won’t have to qualify my statement with, “But I’m Chinese,” (actually, I’m Peranakan) or give my audience a synopsis of the many issues hindering our progress from third world nation to first. I want you, the future government of Malaysia, elected with the mandate of the people this General Election, to address these issues without resorting to blame or racial polemics. Restore the people’s faith in you. Roll up your sleeves and get the job done. Make good on your election promises, whatever they are. Let the peoples of other nations, who achieved independence when we did, see us as equals, worthy of their respect and (positive) attention.

Thank you.

 

 

 

 

Our first month in Perth.

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Since a picture paints a thousand words, I’ve decided to allow a selection of photos I’ve taken this month do the talking. Do enjoy!

Amanda's swimming teacher would be so proud of her. She can now swim 25m freestyle and backstroke, do tumble turns and recently mastered survival backstroke too.

Amanda’s swimming teacher would be so proud of her. She can now swim 25m freestyle and backstroke, do tumble turns and recently mastered survival backstroke too.

A picture of the noodles I prepared in our Fraser Suites kitchen in Perth, Western Australia.

Who says tasty can’t be healthy? This bowl of noodles captures the essence of summer with of punnet of grapes tomatoes, 1 yellow capsicum and 200 gms of spinach. It’s low in fat but high in flavour.

My little Aussie has a sausage roll to start the first school day of the year.

My little Aussie has a sausage roll to start the first school day of the year.

Here come the dragons! Please welcome the snake year!

Here come the dragons! Please welcome the snake year!

T'was 42 degrees on the day but we were glad we braved the heat to be part of the festivities.

T’was 42 degrees on the day but we were glad we braved the heat to be part of the festivities.

Picture of the crowd taken by HRH, who seemed to be the tallest one there.

Picture of the crowd taken by HRH, who seemed to be the tallest one there.

You can tell how much sun there was by how tan I am. Since I bought Amanda a sam fu in Singapore, she could dress up for this year's Chinese New Year with me.

You can tell how much sun there was by how tan I am. Since I bought Amanda a sam fu in Singapore, she could dress up for this year’s Chinese New Year with me.

It was the Chinese New Year but we had every race known to man at that street fair.

It was the Chinese New Year but we had every race known to man at that street fair.

What Chinese New Year is complete without Choy San, God of Prosperity? Here he comes to give out red packets with gold-colored tokens to children.

What Chinese New Year is complete without Choy San, God of Prosperity? Here he comes to give out red packets with gold-colored tokens to children.

You wouldn't believe it but the lion dancers were Latin Americans!

You wouldn’t believe it but the lion dancers were Latin Americans!

Bite-sized pieces of Nyonya kueh were real good.

Bite-sized pieces of Nyonya kueh were real good.

To escape the 42 degree heat, we ducked into a desert shop along the main street in Northbridge, Perth.

To escape the 42 degree heat, we ducked into a desert shop along the main street in Northbridge, Perth.

Amanda enjoying a ride on her new two-legged scooter.

Amanda enjoying a ride on her new two-legged scooter.

Another lovely evening in Perth. You can always admire the yatches even if they don't belong to you.

Another lovely evening in Perth.  You can always admire the yatches even if they don’t belong to you.

A picture of the crabs in a tank in a restaurant in Northbridge, Perth.

Snow crabs look better than they taste. These babies here were destined for someone’s Chinese New Year feast.

Having a light moment in a regular shopping centre.

Having a light moment in a regular shopping centre.

Such lush grass at the Nedland's Esplanade.

Such lush grass at the Nedland’s Esplanade.

If only I could cart that tree home. I reckon it'd look marvellous in my lounge.

If only I could cart that tree home. I reckon it’d look marvellous in my lounge.

That building in the background is a hotel.

That building in the background is a hotel.

Capitalising on the Chinese's love of gold and money, this restaurant has both as part of its decor.

Capitalising on the Chinese’s love of gold and money, this restaurant has both as part of its decor. Not sure about the spiral josticks hanging from the ceiling.

10 out of 10 for presentation and taste. A picture of the Sunomono we had at Kido Japanese restaurant in Nedlands, Perth.

10 out of 10 for presentation and taste. A picture of the Sunomono we had at Kido Japanese restaurant in Nedlands, Perth.

"If I don't learnt to skateboard now, then when?" asked HRH before buying that hazardous contraption.

“If I don’t learnt to skateboard now, then when?” asked HRH before buying that hazardous contraption.

A picture of HRH and Amanda in Perth City.

Enroute to buying me a new handphone. A picture of HRH and Amanda in Perth City.

 

A picture of the all at Gino's in Fremantle, Perth.

A picture of the wall at Gino’s in Fremantle, Perth.

Gino's is a gastronomic institution in Fremantle, Perth, that started long, long, long ago when a Italian tailor dreamt of opening a coffee shop selling good coffee. Today the place has coffee, a wide selection of cakes and perfectly-cooked main meals.

Gino’s is a gastronomic institution in Fremantle, Perth, that started long, long, long ago when a Italian tailor dreamt of opening a coffee shop selling good coffee. Today the place has coffee, a wide selection of cakes and perfectly-cooked main meals.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2012, the year that was.

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So we have come to the end of yet another year. Now wasn’t that fast? It seemed like only yesterday we were ushering in the new year and now, we’re farewelling it in readiness for another one. How was your year? Was it good? Did you get up to plenty of mischief?

Even though I saw family in Melbourne around Easter, I had a largely forgettable first quarter. By the time April rolled around, I was more than itching to up the ante on my social life. One of my good pals who you’ve heard heaps about, Tania,  had gone abroad the previous August, and I was bemoaning the lack of a regular Thursday date. We get on like a house on fire when we’re together but since her move I had not heard from her. Then suddenly on the April 1st, she called saying she’d returned!

It would be another 3 weeks before we actually saw each other again, during which time I had a whole spate of other reunions. Friends I’d not heard from in years called, texted or wrote to me, and in every instance we were able to take up where we left off, as though we’d never been apart.

At the end of May, after much nail-biting, His Royal Highness found he had passed his specialist exams, a culmination of ten years of hard slog as he balanced work with studies and family life. The truth, as any surgeon’s wife knows, is that we had not had much family life in the YEARS leading up to the exams, so I had to learn to stomach his company anew, one of the challenges being to cater to his food preferences, since up until then, Amanda and I often dined by ourselves.

To celebrate His Royal Highness’ passing, all three of us flew to New Zealand for a ski holiday at the end of June. Being virgin skiers, Amanda and I were both thrilled to see the snow. New Zealand in winter is simply stunning and I was glad that our stay there coincided with my birthday, at the beginning of July.

We took a few more celebratory trips in August and September, but they were mostly to nearby Gold Coast where we often stayed just the one night, leaving on a Saturday and returning on a Sunday. His Royal Highess found it odd at first not to lug around his books, whilst we found it hard to believe him not to buried in them.

In October, after yet more nail-biting, it was confirmed we were moving to Perth in 2013. Being a city-chick, I was relieved to know we’d be swapping one capital city for another, although sad to be leaving our home of 3 years, Brisbane. We’d made many friends here, lived through the floods of January 2011, savoured the cities many delights, all in all had a mostly rollicking good time.

That month my family of 3 also made our first trip to Hervey Bay, home of whale watching on Australia’s East Coast, to spend three days with Tania and her family. Days later, I flew up to Cairns to visit Frances, my astrology guru and great mate, with whom I had and continue to have many conversations about the unknown in our special language.

At the end of the same month, Amanda and I followed His Royal Highness to Sydney for a work conference, where I had the chance to meet up with a former classmate, Yuens, who owns a lovely cafe there. Like a kid from the backwaters of civilisation, I was shocked to see the number people in Sydney, all dressed like they were attending some gala function.

In November, my preparations for our move to Perth kicked into high gear. I arranged to have our place here in West End rented out and after much shopping around, booked a storage unit in Macgregor, in the Brisbane’s Southeast. His Royal Highness and I devised a definite route to travel to Perth by car, which would allow us to do get there in good time, comfortably. It is a 4800km journey across some of the loneliest stretches of road in Australia, so we’ll be sure to carry enough water and fuel to get there.

In December, Amanda’s school, like most schools in the Southern Hemisphere, finished for the year. We flew back to Malaysia to see family and friends, for the the first time in 5 years! Because of time-constraints, we were not able to meet up with everyone. At the top of my must-see list were Sheau Jing and Keng Yew, who I went through university with, with whom I have remained the staunchest of friends. They were welcoming their first child and as such, unable to travel to my parent’s home in Ipoh to see me. Hence, my rendezvousing with them in Kuala Lumpur instead.

I paid visits to many aunts, uncles, a couple of cousins and in-laws; I ate the foods of my childhood, heard the singsong voices I know so well, and reminisced, as Cancerians do, of yesterday. Oh yesterday, all my troubles seem so far away, now they look as though they’re here to stay…

Which brings me to the end of 2012. Catch me in 2013 for MORE parenting, lifestyle and relationship stories with a cultural, nostalgic bent to them. I wish you a happy new year and  a blessed and safe holiday season.

 

 

 

Related Posts

Will Brisbane flood again?

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I was going to make today’s post about beauty practices from around Asia but the bucketing rains all weekend have caused me to ponder whether another flood is in store for us, Brisbanites. The astrological chart I cast before purchasing my apartment says it is safe, but what about the rest of Brisbane? Rest assured, I will get down to fulfilling your curiosity about the weird and wonderful beauty practises Asians indulge in the very next post. For now, let us consider the rains.

It does usually pour at this time of the year but Saturday’s storm was so fierce, both my balconies turned into shallow swimming pools. I estimate there was roughly 4 to 5 cm of water in both, even though I live on the third floor! At one point, the accompanying winds were so strong His Royal Highness had to use our wrought-iron chairs to prevent our outdoor cupboard from toppling over. Before this, the very sturdy thing, holding everything from a laminator to empty Mac boxes, had never showed signs of falling down.

A picture of Saturday's (17/11/12) storm in Brisbane, Queensland.

Usually you can see the words “Cellarbration” in the distance and catch glimpses of Musgrave Park. This was all I saw on Saturday.

On Sunday, we even had HAIL in the evening, to accompany the downpour and thunder. I sat at this new pizza place called the Burrow, in Mollison Street, with His Royal Highness and Amanda, thankful for cover as the skies belted down on us five minutes into dinner.

A picture of the hail coming down in Brisbane on Sunday (18/11/12).

Can you see the hail? It’s the tiny white dots in the picture.

A picture of Amanda preparing for the storm outside.

The weather was foul outside. Inside, Amanda, sporting her new hair-cut, was preparing for the storm.

The experts say we are facing a wet weather pattern (La Nina) and that rains of this kind, which precipitated the flood of January 2011, are due to global warming. I sincerely hope we won’t see a return of the floods anytime soon, since most of my suburb, which houses Brisbane’s famed Cultural Precinct, is in a flood plain. During the height of Saturday’s storm, the management of my building asked residents to remove cars from the basement; we didn’t because where can you remove your cars to when other cars have already taken up the spots on higher ground?

Jackie Trad, our new MP for South Brisbane, is chairing a community meeting soon to discuss emergency action in the event of another flood. I’d share with you the details except it appears that His Royal Highness, in his eagerness to rid our house of thrash, in preparation of our exodus West, has thrown away the mail, with it any info I might have.

Walking home from school today, I saw council workers on most street corners cutting down fallen trees and branches. There were so many curb-closures to enable this work to be carried out, I had to walk in a roundabout fashion home, instead of taking my normal route.

While my apartment itself is definitely high enough to avoid future flooding, unfortunately the basement, where all electrical systems for the building is found, is not. It’s a common situation for most Brisbane apartments built before January 2011. According to the developer for a new project in South Brisbane I met yesterday while surveying a possible new home for myself on my return from the West, flood-proof architecture is now the new buzz-word in building. It’s more imperative for large scale projects like apartment buildings since damage usually runs into the hundreds of thousands of dollars.

To meet this cost, which may or may not be covered by insurance, even when insurance is taken out to cover such an event, owners are slapped with a special levy for repairs. Owners of units in my apartment for instance, had to pay an average of $5500 each, on top of our annual $7200 body corporate fees and $1500 in rates, to fix the flood damage. You’d appreciate that for many people, $14200 before any mortgage repayments is a lot of money; that’s what many single people living in the city, or small families living in the suburbs, pay in rent for a whole year.

With apartment buildings, flood-proofing includes putting electrical systems on higher floors or the roof instead of the basement and using the first few stories as car parking. Same goes for houses. Some quarters propose we raise all Queenslanders in flood plains above the flood levels of 2011, while others say this is pointless since many will be tempted to build under the raised house in order to have more living space; the normal reason why most Queenslanders are raised anyway.

Regardless of the Newman government’s plans to flood proof Queensland, I do so wish our coming summer to be a pleasant one; if not so that we may enjoy our beaches, then at least to avoid hip-pain from being slugged with another special levy.

 

Birthday blues.

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It’s no secret I’m getting older. Officially, in another two weeks time. Unofficially, every time Amanda and I pass a cake store. She loves asking me which birthday cake I’ll be getting and which candles I’ll be picking to go with the cake.

On our walk home from school the Thursday just past, she ramped up the birthday talk even more by asking me, “Are you going to have a birthday or are you going to have BIRTHDAY?” It must be all the American sitcoms she’s been watching because she thinks exaggerating a word makes me sit up and take notice.

“My birthday’s not for a while yet,” I told her. When she’s older I’ll tell her how I share the same birthday as 2 Rockefellers – both Godzillionaires – but have none of their talent for making money. Coincidentally, Amanda’s birthday is the death-day for one of them.

Yes, I know. It’s freaky. Still, I’ve won no lotteries or even scratch-its, so luck must be limited to just their family. Although, the big book of birthdays does say that real estate and anything to do with earth is a money-making avenue for me. So maybe I’m just in the wrong place, doing the wrong thing, at the wrong time. Typical story.

Anyhow Amanda asked, “Will there is balloons and goodie bags?”

“For who?”

“For the guest.” She looked at me with all the eagerness of a seven year old expecting a jumping castle on wheels and clowns to come down the road.

“There won’t be any goodie bags because won’t be any guests,” I announced like a funeral director. Forgive me, but after your thirtieth birthday, every birthday is a reminder of your blasted biological clock.

“Oh,” she said sounding like a whimpering dog. She must have thought it the worst birthday party  ever. American sitcoms are all about exaggeration. “How about cake then?” she asked.

“I might have a slice.” Or two, depending on how much skiing His Royal Highness, Amanda  and I do the two days before. As far as I’m concerned, being alive is present enough for one’s birthday when in the larger scheme of things, one could be dead.

Ok. I’ll try not to be such a kill-joy. Happy birthday 2 weeks in advance to me. Thank you for your kind thoughts and greetings on the day.

 

 

Lost and found.

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As a seasoned parent-volunteer at school, I can tell you that being around children makes you feel young. They may ask lots of questions, but mostly, it’s in trying to answer them that you remember your own youth and innocence. On the way to today’s school excursion to “Out of the Box” at Southbank, I had the good fortune of sitting next to a little boy who is as excited about ancient Egypt as I am.

He said, pointing to the huge poster of the exhibition as the bus went past, “I’m going to that. There are lots of mummies in there.”

“I bet you’ll have a lot of fun,” I said. “I’ve taken Amanda to see them in Melbourne and she loved them.”

“How many mummies were there?”

“Just one, but we got to see what ancient Egyptians use in their day to day lives. Do you know that mummies are dead people?”

“OOOhhh…” He seemed very excited. “My nan lives next to a cemetery in New Zealand and she doesn’t like it. She says it’s full of ghosts.” I’m thinking, how did we get from Ancient Egypt to a cemetery in New Zealand? I suppose it’s related – everyone’s dead.

Later, when checking out the activities, I spent half the time tracking down this little boy as he flitted from one end of the overcrowded tent to the other. With 6 other children to watch over, all with designs of breaking free of me, their ball and chain, I was none too chuffed by the extra searching. However, in a stroke of genius, I persuaded this little boy, who was running away from me anyway, to locate and retrieve the others.

He must have found it an impossible task for soon he came back to me, all flushed but happy like a little puppy dog, and announced that he wasn’t  going anywhere, anymore. Having nabbed the others myself like a dog-catcher armed with a net, by shouting their names at the top of my lungs, I rounded up the lot and we made for the bus.