Ushering in 2008

I believe year-ends are perhaps the only times when even pessimists can have some kind of positive thoughts. It’s a time which forces people to sit down (or stand if you want) and go over all the good and bad over the past 364 days.

You cringe at the thought that it’s time again for “Auld Lang Syne”. The whole idea why you want to usher in the New Year quickly is so that you don’t have to hear this tune for yet another year.

You wonder where did all the time go. You wish you’d done some things better. And then you start to hope for the best in the New Year. Everyone hopes. And that’s positivity.

In 2007, for the first time in my life, I set myself some resolutions. When I looked at them again a few days ago (the last time I looked was when I first wrote them), I was pleasantly surprised to see I had, to some extent achieved all of them, except for attending first-aid course.

Resolutions for 2007

1. Take up a course in counselling and first aid

2. Continue exploring the world and visiting new places

3. Put in effort to maintain a healthy lifestyle

4. Strive to be a better teacher

5. Save up

6. Continue to maintain and develop good relationships with my loved ones

7. Volunteer

In 2008, I hope to continue points 2-7  rather than listing down new resolutions. Instead, what I have for the New Year are all hopes and wishes.

It will be an even more significant year than 2007 has been and I will need all the luck. It will be a year of change and challenges, fear and apprehension, tears and goodbyes, smiles and welcome, suitcases and new homes, but hopefully filled with love, happiness, understanding and courage.

With any luck, by next time this year, I will be snuggled up next to a real log fire, in my snowflake-patterned pajamas and woolly hat, celebrating Christmas and New Year with my distant friend finally, for the first time in 8 years.

I pray and I hope. For the best in 2008.

Happy New Year everyone!

Looking good in winter

Sometimes I wish Singapore was just a little cooler, enough to pull on some tights and put on a pair of boots/shoes. I think this is one get-up which will instantly smarten any outfit.

Japanese girls love skirts and shorts, which they often pair with patterned or coloured tights and ankle/knee/calf length boots. Coloured tights are widely available and unlike the usual boring black, they can really enhance what you are wearing.  This winter, maroon, aubergine and navy blue tights are in style.

Also big in Japan are socks. Very often, girls choose not to wear tights, but put on some knee-length socks and then wear their boots. This look works best with calf length boots.

Layering is another technique to achieve that polished look. Beneath that winter coat, the girls have a cardigan, scarf and a top. It’s interesting to note that their skirts are rarely below knee length, which not only show off their pretty hosiery but also give them the illusion of height.

I’ve never come across dress coats till I visited Japan. As the name suggests, dress coats are typically form-fitting on top with a clearly defined waistline and a flared hemline. The preferred way to wear them is buttoned all the way up for a sleek silhouette.

I think I’ve picked up a great deal more winter fashion tips during my 7 days in Japan than the whole of my entire 3 years in Britain.

Great stuff.

What about your father?

I very rarely mention my father. In fact, I think one will have a higher chance of striking lottery than hearing me talk about him. So there, those of you who are reading, do go and get yourself a ticket.

I don’t think I have even discussed him with my close friends. I remember J tried to ask me about him while we were travelling in Paris. I snapped at her and told her I didn’t want to talk about it.

Two of my work colleagues tried to carefully broach the subject. I just told them that we do not live together. When I was temping at the SPH media library 10 years ago, a lady I worked with took me out to lunch and asked me, “Is your father dead?” I was quite startled, and said “no”. But I can’t blame her for assuming so.

My parents split up when I was 9. I don’t remember much about the divorce, but I do recall my parents sleeping in different bedrooms when I was in primary school. Apparently, my mother said I never questioned why Dad moved out. She said that when she explained the situation to me, I just said, “Alright, Mum.”

I don’t hate my Dad, but I can’t say I love him either. I care about him somewhat, because he is afterall my father. He isn’t a bad person. He has never hit me or my Mum, and I think he loved Mum till the end.

He was just bad with money and preferred to gamble it all away. Mum left him because she was tired of seeing the loansharks who were coming around. She was very disappointed in him.

But she never stopped me from going out with or contacting my Dad. When I was still in school, we went out every other week, to the zoo or the birdpark or Sentosa. Sometimes we caught a movie and had A&W root beer floats. I always enjoyed myself.

Dad was working as a taxi driver but he seemed to have a lot of trouble with money. He borrowed some thousands from me when I was a teenager, and I don’t remember if he had paid it all back. Mum was very upset with me then, and really pissed off with him.

I don’t blame Mum for leaving him, though it deeply affects me till now that I did not grow up in a nuclear family. My Mum, aunt and grandma did their best to give me all their love and concern and I am very blessed to have them. But that unfortunately can never make up for not having a father around.

I still feel very sad about this, that I did not grow up in a “normal” home with both parents, but among so many women. That’s probably the reason why I never like to bring up my Dad and start the long story, because it always makes me cry.

In recent years, Dad has found a job as a security officer and I think he is really contented. It’s a job that suits him. Dad is a funny man and he likes mingling among people. Judging from the value of the ang pow he gives me every Chinese New Year, I know he’s not into dices anymore.

I think the dynamics of our relationship have changed as we both grow older. We meet during the school holidays for a meal or a walk in town. I feel I’m meeting an older friend. We don’t have a lot to talk about. I ocassionally give him some money, which is awkward for both of us because we know he’s never really supported me financially. 

I have no doubt that my family situation is the reason why I am attracted to older men. I appreciate their wisdom and maturity. Surprisingly, I am not averse to marriage or kids. In fact, my background motivates me to try to make mine a success and bring up kids in a “normal” family.

I told W one day when we were returning from lunch, “If I lose the love for my husband, I will still stay married with him. For the sake of my child. I know the kind of pyschological effect it has on the kid when parents split. And how long it lasts.”

I am the kid. This is my story. Dedicated to all those who asked or wondered “What about your father?”

Fuji-san

From Gamagori, we had to drive 4 hours toward Hakone. We were all dozing in the bus when the guide shouted excitedly, “There’s Fuj-san!”. We opened our eyes and marvelled at the beautiful sight.

At 3776 meters, Fuji-san is Japan’s highest mountain. A dormant volcano, it last erupted in 1707. The beautifully symmetrical volcano has been worshipped as a sacred mountain by many Japanese, and women were forbidden on it till after 1912.

Clouds and poor visibility often block the view of Mount Fuji, and you have to consider yourself lucky if you get a clear view of the mountain. It is only fully visible 50 out of the 365 days in a year.

Visibility tends to be better during the colder seasons of the year than in summer, and in the early morning and late evening hours.

Like many pretty objects, Fuji-san looks better from afar. The view which confronted us when we drove up mid-way to about 2000 metres, was a black summit with streaks of white snow.

The temperature at that height was at least 6 degrees below that on ground level. It was -2 when we were there, trying to pile on warm clothing and not to slip and fall on the thick blanket of snow all around.

Colourful kimonos, delicate gifts, beautiful temples, delicious foods, fashionable people, great designs and vending machines. They were wonderful encounters but it was the majestic Fuji-san which really left a lasting imprint and made me feel it was well worth the trip.

The joy/pain of receiving

This Christmas, I made myself wait till the actual day before opening all my presents. As a non-Christian, this day doesn’t really hold much meaning for me, but I have always participated in gift giving and exchange because many of those I care about are Christians.

This year, I received a big book wrapped in beautiful paper from a colleague before term ended. I remember feeling really guilty because I had only given her some cute magnets, so I decided to buy her something nice from Japan to make it up to her.

When I sat down on Christmas night to open the presents, I saw that that heavy book was actually a travel journal. She must have found out from Facebook that I enjoy travelling, and that was really thoughtful of her.

But upon closer inspection, I noticed that the book was turning yellow on the inside and its labels were peeling off. Its hard cover was also dirty. I’m pretty sure my colleague must have had this journal for some time. Though she has not used it before, I don’t really think it was in a condition where you could give it out as a present.

Two other colleagues gave me some kiddy cartoon sweets which I was glad to offer to my neighbours’ kids.  I was really quite upset last night. 

Personally, I really take the effort to select a gift for someone, and a lot of thinking goes behind every decision. That is why I feel really let down and disappointed when someone gives me some ancient, dusty item which they try to pass off as new, or just gives me some random thing without much consideration.

This is not the first time somebody did that to me, you know, giving me something from their store room. Sometimes I really hate receiving gifts because a lot of the times I am disappointed either by the condition or choice of it. That’s why most of the time I’d rather not have anything.

Still, it was Christmas night, and I allowed myself to be grumpy for just a little while. I should be giving thanks to those who took the effort and were thoughtful enough to get me little gifts which they know I’d appreciate.

Thanks to TSL for the lovely beige glittery scarf. It was very handy in Japan. In fact my Mum loved it so much she used it more than I did. Thank you to GK for the Fancl cleansing oil. Now I know you pay attention to what I write.

Thanks Mum for sneaking back to the gift shop in Narita Airport while I was slumped on the chair waiting impatiently, to get me the cute porcelain Beckoning Cat which I’d wanted. Thanks to R for surprising me with wonderfully succulent roses and yummy chocolates.

Thanks to my Danish friends, Johan and Maria, for sending their little present so early this year. It was a Danish Nisse soft toy. He is a mischevious elf who plays pranks on others during Christmas time. It came with a heartfelt card which as usual brought a big smile to my face and warm thoughts to my heart.

And not forgetting those who love me in their own ways.

Sometimes you have it good, sometimes you have it bad. I guess I should be thankful I have people to make it good.

Birds of a feather

I like this group of photos. Four artificial sparrows sit on a metal railing outside the Osaka Castle, while a flock of seagulls parked themselves on a bridge in Gamagori (a Japanese seaside resort town famous for its Mandarin oranges), leading to the island of Takeshima. Sometimes it’s hard to spot the difference between what’s real and fake. I guess that’s till you wave a big piece of bread or dash madly toward them.

Squirrel away

Spotted outside the Osaka Castle was a man walking his pet squirrel who was wearing a golden bell. He carefully placed it in the groove of a tree trunk and chatted to a curious passer-by. A little nuts, no?

Notes on the Rising Sun

Todaiji Temple, Nara

The sumo wrestlers on my midnight flight to Tokyo Narita offered me the first glimpse of Japan. Though it would be freezing when we land in the early hours, they went on board in nothing more than their cotton yukata and rubber flip-flops, something they were expected to wear in public irregardless of the weather or time of the year.

With their unique hairstyle, clothing and sheer size, they stood out among us in every possible way. And that first impression of Japan probably rightly summarises the nation, its people and its culture. That with their unique way of life, they are absolutely different from the rest of us.

Gold-plated Kinkakuji Temple, Kyoto

Neat individually packed toiletries containing hairbrushes, razors, cotton buds and rubberband, toothbrush and toothpaste can be found in almost all hotels. Family-size shampoo and body wash is also available, so the only things I had to use from my overpacked, bursting toiletries bag (the result of poor travel research) were conditioner, facial wash and saline lotion.

It doesn’t take long for you to see that packaging is everything in Japan. The workmanship of the products is meticulous and detail-oriented. Everything seems to be lovingly made to make sure they look good and work well. The people pay attention to their choice and cut of clothes and are ever so sleek and carefully co-ordinated. Nobody seems to be getting any misses in the fashion department.

I’ve not once heard anyone talking on their cellphone while on the train. I’ve not spotted any rubbish or dirt on the subway or trains. Nobody squeezes on board till other passengers have gotten off. Nobody leaves any rubbish behind. There are no bins on the road but there is no litter too. They give way and say “Excuse Me”. It was a joy to visit the public toilets. There was paper and it was clean.

A woman dressed up as a geisha in Kyoto

On cold winter days, nothing feels better than sitting on an electrically heated toilet seat when you need to visit the loo. And though I was initially hesistant to try out the buttons for fear it might spray water all over me, I did give it a go toward the end of my stay. And I was pleasantly surprised at the effect. The aiming was perfect, and I was hooked. I realised it was actually a good, handy invention. You have got to give it to the Japanese.

They set trends. They innovate. They have got guts. Enough of it to eat fugu and want to rule to whole of Asia. But they don’t forget their manners. As our plane home taxied off to the runway, I caught sight of the ground crew, standing on the tarmac in a straight line in their luminous vests, waving us good-bye. My Mum could be the only one who waved back.

They are different and proud of being different. If done right, I guess that too could be our recipe to success.

Of ribbons and bows

I love ribbons and bows, and I love them even more after my visit to Japan. Over there, this simple accessory which emphasises femininity and cuteness all at once, is used in abundance.

At the back of the kimono, on a scarf around the neck, in a hairband on the head, in front and behind a winter coat. Just name the fashion item, and there’s bound to be a ribbon on it. And there are so many different ways to tie a bow.

Ribbon is said to have originated in France, but today Japanese manufacturers lead the world in the production of the high-quality ribbon used by the global fashion industry. Ribbons are being worn around the waist like belts; are decorating hemlines; and are being used as trim to add a touch of softness to the winter coats.

Over 90% of the ribbon made in Japan comes from a single region, Fukui Prefecture, which is located near the ancient city of Kyoto. The prefecture’s origins as a ribbon manufacturing center lie in the Meiji period (1868-1912). 

Then, Fukui artisans began making ribbons for kimono collars and hems, as well as hats, and these adornments soon caught on.

Perhaps what I find special is how the Japanese manage to make the ribbon look elegant, beyond that sweet cuteness which can often appear juvenile. It’s also interesting to note how this simple accessory is able to spruce up and smarten an outfit in an instant.

Many people wonder the reason why Japanese women are able to look so chic and groomed. I’d like to think the real secret of it lies in the Japanese’ clever use of ribbons and bows.

(Photos taken from various sources.)

Damaged

It’s been a really long time since I read a powerful book. One which hits you when you least expect it at your softest spot, producing an effect similar to wanting to cry and throw up at the same time. And after that effect has past, you spend the rest of your living if not sleeping hours reeling from shock and anger, disturbed that it was actually someone’s life story.

Cathy Glass, a foster carer in the UK has looked after more than 50 children over 20 years. Jodie was the most abused and disturbed child she had come across. Only 8 when she was seized from her drug addict mother and alcoholic father by Social Services, Jodie was found to be such a difficult child that she changed 5 carers in 4 months.

On the first day she arrived in Cathy’s home, Jodie defecated in her pants and smeared shit all over her face. The overweight girl with an evil grin like Chucky the doll was violent, rude and bad-tempered. She had no concept of time or place, she had the mental state of a 4-year-old, she lacked co-ordination and basic motor skills.

Cathy uncovered the sinister story behind her psychotic behaviour when she saw Jodie masturbating in the living room, and a few days later, licking between the naked legs of her life-size doll. When Cathy wanted to take a photo of Jodie for record purposes, Jodie asked if she should remove her clothes.

Jodie cut herself on the first night and smeared her blood all over herself. On most nights she woke up many times screaming and crying, claiming people were watching her. Sometimes she laid there rock stiff, pupils dilated as if she was possessed. Sometimes she hallucinated, kicked and shouted, vomitted and lost control of her bowels.

She spoke to her imaginary friends and later took on different personalities. Sometimes she spoke in a baby voice, a deep manly voice, or an angry housewife tone. She refused to interact with anyone and hated people for looking at her.

Jodie was the victim of sexual abuse probably when she was still a toddler. She was raped repeatedly by her father, uncle, grandfather and other friends and family members. Her mother and the women inserted objects into her privates. Everyone watched and laughed when this was going on. She was photographed. And then she was given toys. CAT scans revealed that parts of her brain were damaged probably as a result of being hit as an infant. This resulted in her slow mental development.

This was a girl who was on Social Services’ at-risk register since childbirth, yet nobody came to her rescue when she was being abused repeatedly by her own family, whom are part of a paedophile ring.

Toward the end of her time with Cathy, Jodie displayed signs of mental breakdown. She stayed in bed for long periods. She was eventually transferred to a therapeutic unit to receive help.

I cannot get this story out of my head, mainly because of Jodie’s really psychotic behaviour as a result of the horrible extent of abuse she had gone through.

The role of parents is to protect their young, not prey on them. If wild beasts can play by that rule, it really disturbs me to see that we as intellectually developed humans can’t.

Damaged by Cathy Glass is available at major bookstores at S$19.30. Cathy Glass is also the author of Hidden.