One time we met,

Thursday, December 17, 2009
Blister

I feel like I need to rescue all my friendships before they disintegrate. You know how they always say that people need to grow together? I think I'm growing in a completely different direction from everyone else. It sucks. (for lack of a better phrase). The past two years have impacted me hugely, I think, and turned me into someone else. I like who I am but I don't like the fact that relationships with other people now are so different, so unfamiliar and uncomfortable.

Also, I hate it when my parents argue. Or when they just partake in a tense, cold conversation, which is sometimes worse. It's not like they do it all that often but recently it has become unbearably frequent and I am stuck in the middle trying to mediate (which I never used to want to do, dammit), but I am afraid of causing even more friction. My parents actually have highly opposite personalities and that creates problems where decision-making is concerned, I guess. The thing is that so many of these decisions are so tiny and so ridiculously mundane that when I step back and think about them I actually feel like laughing, outright, in the middle of one of those thick, frigid silences that have occurred more and more nowadays.

I have been chastised multiple times today by people who tell me that I overplan and overthink. Maybe I do but for me time just seems so short and if I don't plan I might end up letting life just pass me by. I do not want to spend emotion and effort regretting missed opportunities and lost time. There is a lot I want to do in the years to come and I will not let any sloppiness or sloth on my part get in the way of that.

It's disgusting the way I'm so hell bent on living my life the way I want to but, as most of you should know, I'm not content to be the passive person sitting in the corner and letting fate/God/luck/powerful people/circumstances/Life decide what is going to happen to me. I want to be what happens to people, no matter how awkward or creepy that phrase sounds. If you know me at all you should know what I mean.

Labels: anger, connections, frustration, insecurities, life, self

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Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Pleiades

I finally finished Foucault's Power/Knowledge - GO ME. It was such a terribly difficult book. I would read and certain points would jump out at me and then in the next sentence I'd lose the whole train of the argument; I'd read on and on and realise that I wasn't absorbing... much. I'd get one or two phrases but not the whole sentence (that would take 2 or 3 tries). But all the same I am sure I understood part of it, the basic notions of power as a web-like structure more than as emanating from a fixed point or individual, also the idea that power is complex and fluctuating and the warnings against trying to oversimplify concepts and relationships. I feel so accomplished hahah. Now for me to actually read Madness and Civilization...

Also finished a book of Wole Soyinka's poetry. It was, frankly speaking, tough to understand as well. He has a lot of obscure (or maybe not-so-obscure) references to things and events and people all over the world, which makes it hard for someone as n00b as me to keep up. (Omg did I just use "n00b" in the middle of a description of Soyinka's poetry?! I swear night-time does strange things to our heads.) Anyway his imagery is strange and sudden and beautiful. His words have a lot of strength and character but at times there is a touch of awkwardness about them which is somewhat endearing; one recurring theme that jumped out at me was that of stifled voices (for the dear souls who might possibly be interested, I was reading Samarkand & Other Markets I Have Known), which I suppose makes sense given his own exile. I stick to what I said before about popular culture having a power of their own that leaders and governments often fear because they cannot control it.

--

You know, reading about culture and history and how it inspires national pride and identity and resistance in people is always awe-inspiring in itself. It started with my study of Iran and has now moved with me to books about Israel-Palestine and Africa (I have a book called A History of Africa Since 1800 which looks extremely promising, though I'm dubious about how in-depth it can go given the sheer scope of the title - but I digress). I am (as is pretty obvious) quite passionate about cultures and histories because not only do they have richness and diversity and life of their own, they also constitute a huge part of who a people are.

At the same time, I am uncomfortable with how the case of Singapore fits into that framework. I don't know what a Singapore culture is, really, beyond superficial ideas of kiasu-ism and the wonders of good food, and whatever history we have been taught is way too distilled and skim-the-surface to make me feel anything for my country. I don't doubt the (general) accuracy of our history books, it's just that we don't seem to have enough substance to grasp onto, in the sense that students are hardly taught sufficiently magnified, detailed histories - for example, we don't really know specific policies implemented or supported by Lee Kuan Yew in the turbulent years post-1965, no matter how large a role they played in Singapore becoming what it is today. All we know is that he implemented important policies that affected large segments of society. But what were these policies, exactly? And how did they affect common people, people like our grandparents and parents? If we have the answer to those two questions, we have the link from our history to ourselves. And that, I feel, is where a sense of collective memory begins, and from there comes a sense of being Singaporean and being proud (or not so proud) of being Singaporean. Currently I don't feel that the teaching of local history is personal enough to inspire any kind of emotion.

I wonder as well if I'm just being overly cynical and I wonder why our past gets so diluted (for lack of a better word). It might be because of the sheer youth of this nation - maybe it's because we don't have much history anyway. I remember talking to one of the Australian guys in the Lijiang youth hostel about this, and he told me that he thinks it takes at least 6 generations to foster sense of belonging. Which would mean we're only halfway there. As a counter, though, there is the example of a lot of 2nd-generation Singaporeans (probably middle-aged now) who lived through the turbulent early years and have strong feelings about being part of Singapore basically because they personally experienced those troubled times. And I don't really believe any history is "too short". The study of the past never ends for me because as long as new material keeps surfacing and new minds keep contributing to the "sources", there will always be new fields to explore and new ideas to think about.

I think the sudden break in the passing down of oral tradition plays a huge role in the dissolution (I love that word, hahahah, humour me please) of SG history - the fact that a lot of my generation can't speak dialect just means that channels of communication between many a grandparent (those who have experienced the most history) and grandkid are shut. And then it goes back to the lack of a personal connection with the history we are taught, because if they were supplemented by first-hand stories and accounts from our grandparents they would probably stay more rooted in our minds.

In any case, my first instinct was to just put down the whole shebang of SG and culture as a lost cause, but then I realised how stupid, immature and escapist that was, so now I'm just going to read more, think more and hopefully I will feel something at the end of it all, that same inspiration I was talking about earlier, and then maybe I will consider a career in the public service, hahahaha.

I hope this all doesn't make it look like I have a huge hatred for SG, or something. I am proud of being Singaporean, actually. I am proud of Singapore. But it's a passive, passionless kind of pride, kind of like a cup of weak tea. I'm just trying to understand why, when it comes to issues of culture and history, I'm not more interested in the place that I grew up in and that I miss whenever we are overseas.

--

On another note, I have been going out with my parents a lot recently, and it's been pretty fun. Today we headed to the Botanic Gardens for an evening jog and ogled all the Christmas trees put up and decorated by different organizations, and then after dinner we took a bus down to Orchard Road to look at the Christmas lightup. It was really pretty but the crowds, especially towards the end of the night, annoyed me; I think you should know by now how much I appreciate empty space and free air to breathe. On the other hand I never really knew how huge Orchard was until today. We walked and walked and walked and the road never ended and megamall after megamall flashed before our eyes and the thing is, so many of the shops were of the same brands -.- We'd see, say, Mango in one mall and then a couple of buildings down there'd be another identical shop. I guess it's pretty impossible for any smaller store to keep up the rent and all.

Unrelated: Christmas makes me happy. The celebrations and all puts everyone in a festive mood and, while the holiday means nothing to me, the music and decorations everywhere just stirs up the smiles. Joy is infectious : )

Ok you know what? I need to go sleep. I've been sleeping between 2-3am these past few days, and waking up at like 9, which is not a healthy thing; I need to regularise my sleep cycle again (to bed at midnight, wake up by 7) before school begins. I need to begin this coming year fresh and ready for whatever it's going to throw at me. (And from what I've heard, it's going to be A Lot.)

Labels: books, christmas, history, Michel Foucault, places, singapore, thoughts

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Monday, December 14, 2009
Linoleum

I don't know what I'm doing or thinking, and I have no idea why I'm still up at this hour. My head is a blur and I am losing all coherence or sense of propriety (but don't worry I'm probably exaggerating a bit) and my pride is in shambles, somewhat, now.

It's not that I don't like new people; I like new people when we have enough things in common to avoid awkwardness and cramped silences and sudden endings. In fact I daydream about meeting a whole group of like-minded people and getting together over coffee and talking deep into the night about people and places and issues we actually care about. Keyword: daydream.

I feel hotheaded and tightly wound and breakable at the slightest touch; time and space seems to stretch out in an endless continuum but there is some glass box I can't quite get out of and then, and then there are stars, and there is the absence of light.

Shit I'm so darn tense right now you'd think there was someone behind me waiting to strike. I've been imagining too much. I need control and order and something secure and familiar, but it isn't coming anytime soon, I bet. I am such a coward when faced with new ground but dammit the only way to move is up and out.

I want to be a pilgrim who knows his destination and just resolutely takes one step after another in that direction, over rock and stream and dune.

Where am I going? Where are you going?

Labels: angst, frustration, insecurities, obscurities, self

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Sunday, December 13, 2009
Kingdom

Here begins what promises to be epic.

I began typing in this account, with ample reference to my notes and thoughts, on 2 Dec 2009, and finished it on 13 Dec 2009. In itself it's been quite a labour of love.

For photographs of the trip, click here.

--

Kunming, 22 Nov

The most memorable moment of the day for me began even before we set foot in China. The plane had just landed, we were all sitting there itching for the seatbelt sign to go off so that we could grab our stuff and hustle out of the plane (I still don't get why, though. It seems that all of us are just in a huge rush to get off the aircraft. Hmm, dodgy.), and then in came a group of stern-looking Chinese officials in the green military-style uniform of the immigration authorities. They walked down the aisle, checking all our health declaration forms to make sure none of us had H1N1, and I think they also had a thermal scanner (or it could have just been a random evil-looking metal contraption) that they pointed at us to make sure we weren't, you know, lying about our temperatures.

ANYWAY, point is, there was a stern-looking official who paused at the row of seats after ours, and looked at his scanner thing. Then suddenly his phone rang, and glory of glories, it was the Doraemon ringtone~~ Hahahah that was the highlight of the day for me.

Anyway, we were staying in a quaint little place (Long May Youth Hotel) which is kind of as its name suggests, halfway between a hostel and a hotel. Small, quiet, with pretty furnishing and an interesting view outside the rooms: of old apartment kitchens, with exhaust pipes peeping out of glass windows. It is so difficult to describe, lol. But anyway the surrounding buildings were old and run-down, reminiscent of days past (which is not necessarily Bad or Sad, just giving a totally different feeling to the place altogether). Also, it is only the 3rd paragraph but I must mention how shivers run down my spine when past days are mentioned.

We had a steamboat lunch at a nearby roadside cafe - we picked it because there were lots of locals inside. It was a HUGE lunch, typical of first meals in foreign countries, but it was only 84RMB, which is dirt-cheap considering there were four of us. I also wrote in my records that the lunch was "fatty and salty and quite awesome" but, given my stomach condition right now, I'm balking at those words.

After lunch we walked down a long street with loads of shops which seemed very much like the Bugis Street of Kunming, just a lot less dense. There were a lot of people out and about (it was Sunday afternoon) and I realised that the youth are just a lot like SG youth, superficially at least - trendy, independent, talkative. Generally, based on first impressions, people were not very warm, though - they weren't nasty or anything, just somewhat guarded and unwilling to outreach, shopkeepers and waitresses included.

Walked down to Cui Hu (Green Lake) afterwards and strolled around it and into Kunming Park which was on a fairly large island thing in the middle of the lake. There were loads of people around and there were various street performers passing their Sunday evenings by dancing and singing - there was even an ancient-looking man wearing sunglasses and playing electric guitar, and a young man leading a group of old people doing some aerobics thing in the middle of the park. Highly interesting, and in that sense their culture is a lot more open than in SG - I can't imagine street performers like that in SG having such large and appreciative audiences, lol.

Observations: The people have modernized a fair bit but the places haven't, really. I felt a sense of disparity, like there were two parallel streams of places and people that were running in the same direction but at different speeds. I do think, however, that the places will follow the people (they kind of have to). Traces of Westernization are already everywhere.

The cold was hard to deal with, and my throat/cough annoyed me to no end : (

Kunming, 23 Nov

Cold, cold, cold! It's a couple of degrees in an unheated room T_T and early mornings are the worst things after the few moments when you get out of the shower.

We had a nice breakfast of bread from a nearby bakery, and then we embarked on our first real day trip - to Shilin (Stone Forest). It was a fairly long drive out of the city - I slept for most of the way -.- We arrived at 11 plus and had lunch at a smallish eatery serving traditional local food. Had chicken soup in a Yunnan pot (seriously! hahaha), wild vegetables fried with egg, and hugely expensive, apparently famous mushrooms stirfried with meat and veg. Food was good.

Shilin was incredibly touristy, and kind of disappointing as well. I seem to remember seeing more interesting spots and more rock formations the last time I was there... 5 years ago. We had a young guide (she's only 21 years old, apparently) who was generally sweet, but the place was incredibly crowded and claustrophobic.

The concept of Shilin is beautiful though. The idea that these really are natural wonders, created on so vast a scale by nothing more than time, really gets to me somehow. As usual, man just tries to make meaning out of it by looking for shapes and symbols somehow hidden in the rock - remember my theory about needing to find artificial meaning?

On our way back to Kunming we were going over a flyover and there was a huge stream of water shooting skywards from below the bridge. Our driver said nonchalantly that a water pipe had probably burst, and across the top of the gush of water there was a beautiful broken rainbow : D That was my moment of the day, haha!

We went to this place called Qi Cai Kunming (literally - 7 Colours of Kunming) on the way back. It's just this huge compound where they centralized all the tourist shopping products in the region; there are 7 huge exposition/shopping halls altogether, each hall containing a different range of products - tea, medicine, foodstuffs, jewellery, etc.

The centralized tourism is an amazingly efficient way of making money, especially with the huge crowds of Chinese tourists there. China's internal tourism constitutes a huge part of the overall tourism industry, lol. They even made a park-like thing where they had miniature versions of the notable tourist sites around Kunming built and parked there so that tourists could, for a fee, enter and take pictures with a mini-Shilin or a mini-JiuXiang. It was amusing at first but got increasingly disturbing. I found that the same artificially-controlled spirit characterized the rest of the tourist spots we visited - as long as a place had any remotely scenic value, there was a tollbooth or an entrance fee smacked right on top of it. It got annoying as well as self-defeating (more explanations later).

We had a horrible car journey back, due largely to Kunming's terrible traffic conditions in the evenings. Had a dinner of the all-famous Guo Qiao Mi Xian (literally: Crossing Bridge Rice Noodles) at the all-famous Jiang Brothers restaurant, in the city centre. THE OIL, AHHH. The food was less remarkable than the other thing we witnessed at the restaurant - namely, a loud and long-drawn-out quarrel between one of the waiters and a customer. It nearly came to blows and ended up involving one or two local policemen. There is a lot of talk about Chinese being self-centred and individualistic and I don't know how much of a stereotype that is but to make a crude generalization, I would say that I felt that - the urgent instinct of self-preservation that comes when, in a country of so many people, you need to elbow your way through. Again I emphasise that this is a crude generalization, and is probably biased, but I do feel that there is such a mentality circulating, and I put that down to - communism, actually. It's ironic that communism, which relies on and ostensibly encourages the idea of society above self, actually backfired (or at least I think it did). You only have to look to the poverty engendered by things like the Great Leap to understand why people would see the need to ensure their own survival above all else, and the culture of report-or-be-reported created by both the Hundred Flowers and the Cultural Rev was, I felt, what sealed the deal. I think communism in general just doesn't work. Its pioneers and advocates, like Mao and Che, interest me, but they don't inspire me. (And even between Mao(&Stalin) and Che, they are associated with completely different kinds of interest.) All in all, though, I simply don't see any way communism could be feasible.

(At the same time, I am loath to support Fukuyama's The End of History because it presumes too much. But that's a story for another time, hahah.)

Back to the trip - we walked along their Orchard Road after dinner and ogled at pretty things in shops, especially beautiful coats and lovely, lovely boots! None of which would ever suit our SG climate, so Mom and I stubbornly resisted, ha ha. On our way down the street we saw not one, but TWO McDonald's outlets, and a load more of other Western food chains, including KFC and Dreyer's (yes, the ice cream). Lots of megamall-ish places as well, and while goods were quite expensive, they were definitely the real deal (no counterfeit H-Comps here, hahahaha).

When night was truly falling fast we walked hurriedly back the hostel in the gathering dark, to yet another freezing shower and cold drafty rooms. We were fortunate enough to have hot tea and some supper to tide us over : )

My last paragraph of the day reads: Lijiang tomorrow, hoping for better days : P

Lijiang, 24 Nov

We packed and headed off to the airport, where we quickly checked in and flew to Lijiang - it was just a 40-min flight so there was nothing much involved, just a bit of reading on the plane and some strangely edible nut cookies the stewardesses gave out.

My first impression of Lijiang was - beautiful, beautiful mountains, most notably the Yu Long Xue Shan (Jade Dragon Snow Mountain) which dominates the landscape. We had a long, cold taxi ride to our hostel (the taxi had no windows at all, therefore there were essentially four huge holes in the taxi through which the freezing air was blowing in as we were shooting down the highway). Finding the hostel was tricky - it was located in Lijiang Old Town, in which vehicles are not really allowed, so we had to alight and walk a bit before we reached the place, lugging the bags along the dusty streets.

Lijiang city is divided into two architecturally very distinct portions - the old town, and the new town. The new town is where all the skyscrapers and tall urban buildings and business districts are; the old town has existed for ages and is where traditional-style houses and shops are preserved. It's a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and is incredibly picturesque - cobblestones! ancient wooden buildings! faded Chinese dui lian on doorframes! old Naxi women wearing Mao caps!

Anyway, our hostel was fab and well worth the walk. It's called Panba Courtyard Guesthourse and Hostel and was nestled in a quieter part of the old town. It was quiet, and pretty, and really cosy; my family conveniently booked a 4-bed dorm : D The guy at reception, Mr Liu, was young and super hip - complete with hat, geeky glasses and striped pants, hahah. He was really friendly, too - the first thing he said to us was "Singapore? I really like Lee Kuan Yew." Lol and the whole place was decked out in posters of either Maoist propaganda or random American musicians (Bob Marley was an exceptionally popular choice). The combination was slightly ironic but not at all bizarre - the atmosphere was one of youth and ridicule, and the irony was fully intended, I think. It was like those people in SG who buy Mao memorabilia for the sake of Mao memorabilia, lol. It becomes more of an issue of what is popular rather than actual belief in anything... how desirable this is is questionable, of course, haha, but there I go again. Back to topic - we had a late lunch, in which we tried their local potato pancake (loved it) and discovered a little sundeck in the hostel, from which there were marvellous views of the surrounding mountain ranges.

After lunch we went walking around the old town streets and saw loads of little shops, which were mostly tourist traps but were still interesting enough. The nearer we got to the town centre, the more touristy everything got, and the town centre was terribly crowded with local tourists.

We returned to the hostel for dinner, which was really good local food with a "home-cooked" flavour. We ate with the hostel staff as well as one other traveller, an Austrian guy called Manuel, and had interesting conversations about China; I was amused to hear both Mr Liu and his colleague Mr Yang talk about how "Chinese kids only know how to study", among other things, including a couple of flippant jokes thrown around about one-party states, hahah. Then we had further interesting conversations with Manuel and a Swiss guy, Rafael, during which I failed at a French conversation (they both spoke the language) and discovered a huge, thick Israel book on the communal bookshelf at the hostel. Moment of triumph! We talked a bit of politics, and I swear one of the best parts of travel is meeting other travellers. A lot of them have very strong opinions - Rafael said that people "elect the same idiots into government every year" and declared fervently that he doesn't like the Bible, for example. A lot of tea, beer and cigarettes (I didn't touch anything other than the tea, fear not) later, we decided to retreat upstairs after a long day. We endured torturously cold showers but all was well the moment we crawled into our warm heated beds : D

Lijiang, 25 Nov

We had breakfast of toast, eggs and tea at the hostel, followed by an interesting discussion with Mr Yang about China and accents and the competing forces of old and new (well I have a sense of deja vu here but will quash all thoughts of my EE, hahaha). Anyway, I won't forget what he told us about new things being quashed by newer things, like his generation being quashed by the next generation the moment they graduate from university.

Later on we began a walk down the old town, right up to the Mu Fu which was the residence of the Mu clan - the ruling Naxi family in Lijiang. Their most prominent member was Governor Mu Zheng, who was apparently a wise and visionary ruler who encouraged communication with the Han Chinese. Mu Fu is really impressive - it's a HUGE place, sprawling grounds with beautiful wood-carved architecture and there was a good solid explanation of everything by the guide there. The stories behind the place are very interesting, as most stories are - for one, there was apparently a prophecy made by Mu Zheng a long time ago that in 400 years, the earth would shake and the river would stop. AND, somehow, in 1996, there was a huge earthquake which struck Lijiang which indeed "shook the earth and stopped the river". Slightly more sure-footed is the story of a certain old, gnarled tree in the middle of a courtyard in Mu Fu - the tree was said to have died 60 years ago but, miraculously, it started flowering again after the 1996 earthquake. The tree was, indeed, in flower when we were there.

I really don't know how true any of this is but the point, I guess, is that they are stories, and history, and like all other forms of history cannot ever reach absolute truth. In any case, though, I love places with a history... they make me feel. So much has gone on and happened and the place has borne witness to it all, the passing of days and ages far beyond my own reckoning. Lives were lived there once, joys and sorrows flared, flickered and died for their own short moments. Ahhh geekdom once again.

I was intrigued, also, by Naxi matriarchy. Women had to, essentially, have awesome multitasking skills - they had to take care of the family which their husbands were away hunting or being Renaissance Men (I'm serious. it was desirable for men to read, paint and do artsy stuff), and the women also had to do business dealings, because they were the main breadwinners. It was interesting also how Naxi women slept on beds, while the men slept on the floor, and how this mirrors the genders' status. Yknow, for all the talk about how the world is male chauvinist and how often tradition is associated with backward female repression, we really don't know enough about societies like the Naxi and the Minangkabau.

On a related point: China has very strong feminist tendencies, lol. They have loads of feminist books lying around on bookstore shelves everywhere and we even passed a Nu Ren Jie (Woman Street) in Kunming.

On a similarly related, but not similar, point: Goh Chok Tong visited Mu Fu! There's a photo of him being taken on a tour, hung up with photos of a lot of other dignitaries in the Mu Fu's hall of VIP visits. Hahaha.

After that we walked up the nearby mountain and up a 6-storey pagoda called Wan Gu Lou where at the very top there was a pretty good view of the Jade Dragon Snow Mountain and of the whole of Lijiang, both old and new towns. Also there was a man suspended precariously by a hanging ladder outside the pagoda, trying to paint the pagoda's exterior. In some roundabout way it made me think (what's new?) about China's government-backed tourism and how commercialised things have become; on a tangential and semi-cautionary note it is NOT AT ALL cheap to travel in China, given all the entrance fees and pricey meals. But we saved on airfare and accommodation, I guess.

Walked to Hei Long Tan (Black Dragon Lake) which was actually much more than a lake; it was a moderately-sized park of sorts. The lake is the source of the 3 main rivers flowing through Lijiang and therefore is their main water supply; the water was beautifully clear and there were people filling up their waterbottles secretly, hahaha. The park was okay but the loads of tourists everywhere ended up half-annoying, half-amusing us.

Also noticed the number of young people standing around tending shops but generally having little to do because the shops are just - overstaffed, really. Well this stemmed from observations during lunchtime; lunch was interesting local fare - jasmine flower and minced pork soup (ick), fried tree bark (double ick), cold strips of something made out of beans (triple ick) and stir fried yak meat (the only stuff which was good).

Dinner was waxed pork rib steamboat - a Lijiang specialty. We also had some barbecued skewers Naxi-style, including mushrooms, mutton and snails -.- Mom happily didn't tell us we were having snails until after my brother and I had swallowed the suspicious-looking, rubbery black things on our skewers.

Lijiang, 26 Nov

Woke up early and had an early start to the day by leaving for Jade Dragon Snow Mountain in a minibus with our driver, Master Li. He told us a lot of interesting things about Lijiang along the way, but he did have a bit of an accent so it was hard to understand some bits; as we neared the mountain in the cold, drafty minibus my mom (who was in the front seat) insisted that we take photos of the scenery from the back seats. This would explain the strange, often less-than-perfect shots of trees and sky and mountain and a bit of road that appear so frequently in the photos on FB.

The mountain is truly, truly beautiful. There is relatively sparse dry vegetation on the lower slopes, and towards the top the trees thin. It has a number of craggy peaks, all made of hard-looking black rock and dusted with snow. But we didn't have much time to enjoy the view, because we had to launch immediately into our order of business:

1. rush to buy tickets and go to the washrooms in the 10min before 10am
2. squeeze with the madding crowd of Chinese tourists along a narrow, narrow tunnel
3. be hustled into a shuttle van with 5 random strangers (all Chinese tourists)
4. trundle along windy mountain paths for an hour up to the cable car station
5. sail along a 25min cable car ride up to Yak Meadow (3700m above sea level) where THERE WERE NO YAKS : (((( Devastation and ruin.
6. spend about an hour walking the trail around the meadow (the place was HUGE). There was a Tibetan temple along the way, it was really located in the middle of nowhere, and when we walked in we passed a room where a monk was cooking. It was such a surreal moment. Furthermore to our relief there were only a couple of others at the meadow with us, compared with the jostling, densely-packed crowd we saw earlier. The rock face of the mountain loomed large in front of us, and the feeling of cold air and the sight of miles of empty green pasture was somehow uplifting.
7. brisk walk, slightly panting because of the altitude, back to the cable car station where we took a cable car ride down again
8. rush to the shuttle bus and go back to the start-point area after a series of unfortunate, but insignificant mishaps

On our way to the cable car station we talked to a lone Naxi lady who was sitting under the wooden platform just before the trail starts. She was selling wild herbs and medicinal plants that she'd picked from the mountain forests and while it was expensive, it was also stuff we'd seen in many a Chinese medical hall in SG at much higher prices. It reminded me of how enterprising and capable Naxi women are - or have to be. (Ref my earlier point about matriarchy.)

We watched Impression Lijiang, which is a musical of sorts set against the backdrop of the Jade Dragon Snow Mountain and directed by Zhang Yimou (guy who also directed the Beijing Olympic Games opening and closing ceremonies). It is really of epic proportions, featuring 500 performers from 10 different Chinese minority groups (for the uninformed, Yunnan Province alone has 26 out of China's 56 different ethnic groups). The performers are all peasant farmers from different minority groups (Bai, Mosuo, Yi, etc) but there was an emphasis on the Naxi people, who occupy the Lijiang areas and number around 300000. The show also mentioned the Cha Ma Gu Dao which was an ancient route travelled by caravans to transport tea, as well as how nobody has ever conquered the peak of the Jade Dragon Snow Mountain even though it's much shorter than Everest. (It was an awe-inspiring piece of information I guess but part of me, the cynical part, wonders if it's just because the Chinese government doesn't quite want it to happen.) Anyway the set was gorgeous, an giant amphitheatre in the open mountain air, and the performance was impressive in the style of the Olympics ceremonies. I am usually quite cynical about these things but it somehow made me feel as well, partly because of certain clever devices they used (direct engagement with the audience, and repetitions of "we'll always be waiting here for you to return" at the end of the performance) as well as because of the music (haunting melodies accompanied by rough, mountain-song chants). I felt for the culture and for the people. So the performance was valuable, in a sense, but incredibly touristy as well. And they really have very sophisticated marketing mechanisms worked into almost every aspect of the performance, if you want to be cynical about what they say and sing about. For once, though... I chose not to.

I also felt some wonder walking around the vastness and empty space of Yak Meadow. It is apparently (according to one of the other Chinese tourists who was up there with us) the least touristy of the 3 main meadows accessible on Jade Dragon Snow Mountain (the highest meadow, the Glacier Park Meadow, was inaccessible that day because the cable cars were threatening to get blown away by the wind, hahaha). I wish I had days in that place (Yak Meadow), with nothing but cold air and grassy mountain shrubbery around me and lifting my head I would encounter nothing but craggy bare rock and snow-dusted peaks and blue sky.

Formulated the beginnings of my retirement plan: I will find somewhere exactly like Yak Meadow except they will speak English : P and I will live all alone except when people come on pilgrimages to visit me (for I will be an old wise learned professor well-versed on the ways of the world - think a cross between a hermit and an intellectual) and when I feel that my time is up, I will walk up into the mountains and disappear. (Of course, plan is subject to change at my discretion.) I think the plan is pseudo-Alchemist-influenced. Man, Coelho followed me all the way to China.

Master Li brought along a friend, Master Mu, to Impression Lijiang and he is actually a schoolteacher whose 2 kids are both in Chinese universities (which is quite a Big Deal, in China with its huge population); he is one of the Naxi and told us that the Naxi are one of the few minority peoples who do not need any government aid. And judging from my whole experience thus far, I kind of agree - you hardly see any overt poverty or any begging anywhere (a lot less than my previous experience in the same area 5 years ago!). The Naxi appear to be an exceptionally tenacious folk.

At this point I need to mention Naxi women again: they seem to be the epitome of work-life balance. I am aware we cannot compare it wholesale to our modern culture, but I believe the spirit of the Naxi women - the deep belief that you have to be able to deal with everything you need to deal with, or your family will starve - is what is necessary to drive modern men/women to strike a balance. (Of course it's easy for me to say.)

After getting away from the hubbub of the Snow Mountain we returned to Lijiang new town where we had a 4.30pm lunch/dinner of Hei Shan Yang (black mountain goat) steamboat. It was pretty darn awesome; the owner was a friend of Master Mu and the meat and soup was fab. It was a LOT of food but it was great and a good opportunity to try local fare yet again.

Went to Shuhe old town after that. It has over 700 years of history and is older than Lijiang old town and happens to be a Wold Heritage Site; it was evening by then and kind of chilly but we had a pleasant walk nevertheless because of the relative lack of people and tourists. There were quaint little shops everywhere, and some Naxi people riding their Lijiang ponies which are short but sturdy and sure-footed on rocky mountain paths.

At night in the room we had an intense discussion about trekking to Tiger Leaping Gorge and we ended up deciding not to, which was a bit of a disappointment for me but turned out to be a blessing in the end (read on to find out! hahahah). The main problem was that there were roadworks going on and that meant an originally 2-day trek would require 3 days (which was the rest of our time in Lijiang, meh) at a high-altitude uphill climb. So we decided no Gorge for us this trip. But then, life has a strange way of taking you round and round in circles.

Wow that was such a cliffhanger-worthy ending to the day!

Lijiang, 27 Nov

My records fade a bit at this point until the end of our trip because I was laid low with continuous bouts of gastrointestinal problems -.- Probably due to the amount of oil they use in cooking in order to keep the food warm. In any case, I'm pretty sure it wasn't any kind of food poisoning because the restaurants there mostly send their cutlery to a central sterilizing agency where they're cleaned, disinfected and wrapped in clingwrap before being shipped back to the restaurants. And these include all the roadside places we went to. I guess it was just my system protesting in a most childish manner :/

In the morning we went to Shigu Town at about 10am and had lunch at a little roadside eating stall. Mom also bought the strangest things from a roadside vendor who was another one of those local peasant women who picked herbs and plants from the mountains - wild ginseng and cordyceps! Apparently (I wouldn't really know, lol) the stuff was incredibly cheap and fresh. I don't think she had much of a market there, which would explain why the bargaining process went along so painlessly. (Side note: parents are hopeless bargainers because they are torn between getting a killer-good-deal and thinking that it's pointless to fuss over a few more dollars (after conversion). And I guess they also have soft hearts, hahaha.)

Lunch consisted of: fried potato (tu dou, as the locals call them, and in Lijiang they are a well-loved vegetable), cold cut of pork slices, hai hua (a kind of vegetable) soup with egg, tiny fried fish which you eat whole (a lot bigger and less salty than ikan bilis though) and stirfried vegetable.

After lunch we walked around the town, which was a very quiet place, though quite pretty - according to Master li, it used to be quite flourishing until the government placed a toll booth at the entrance to the town (hardcore capitalism, anyone? wth). So now the traffic has slowed and consequently some of the tourist attractions built earlier have seen little business. It's a pity.

We walked to Shigu, which is the town's namesake - a drum carved of stone with seemingly endless rows and lines of Chinese writing inscribed on it. To get to the drum we had to cross a bridge made of iron chain links that was constructed a long long time ago, but the iron is still holding together incredibly well. Master Li put it down to the skill of the blacksmiths in the olden days.

The town was very picturesque and the people still preserve their traditional way of life - everywhere we passed peasants carrying huge baskets of vegetables or grain on their backs returning from or going to the fields in the afternoon sun; we also passed a group of old Naxi men playing traditional Naxi music on traditional instruments, and a little shop where people were grinding vegetables to get vegetable oil. It was all quite remarkable to our "modern" city eyes.

We also visited a monument commemorating the Red Army's crossing of the Chang Jiang (Yangtze River) during the Long March, when they were fleeing from the Kuomintang. Accompanying the monument (which was an impressive bronze statue of a native Naxi boatman helping a tall, strong-looking Red Army soldier cross the river on a small boat) was a small museum of sorts, discussing the statistics and process of the Long March, like how 18000 people crossed it in 3 days (a hugely remarkable feat given the sheer breadth and depth of the river, and how local boatmen had to help ferry them across). What I felt was most interesting was how, at the doors which were the entrance to the museum, to the right of the doors was a plaque with a long quote from Mao about the significance of the Long March to the cause of - not specifically communism, but Chinese nationalism... and to the left of the doors was a quote from Hu Jintao about the same significance - how the spirit of the Long March represents the unity, resilience and "indomitable spirit" of the Chinese people. I found it interesting because it was a prime example of people of the present utilizing historical memory for contemporary, (political) means. People always ask what the use of history is and I actually don't believe it's a question that can be simply resolved by assuming that "history repeats itself" (there is some large logical leap inherent there, isn't it). So it's not about predicting the future; rather I believe it's to understand the present that we study the past. And many leaders often utilize the past to stir up spirit and emotion in the present (though its application in an SG context is questionable given our relative lack of a collective memory, much less an emotionally stirring one). AND I have a lot to say on the subject but there I go again on a distant tangent and I will probably air more views on this sometime later.

Also there were Red Army outfits available for rent for 20 yuan, which you could put on and take photographs with (hahahah). Now what did I say about Chinese capitalism? If not for the cold and the number of layers I was already wearing I would have probably been more interested... it would make a memorable souvenir, I'm sure!

Later on we walked down to where the town border met the edge of the Yangtze River proper. The story behind the river is pretty interesting - there are 3 major rivers (Yangtze, Mekong and Salween) that run parallel high up in more mountainous country, and the Mekong and the Salween happen to run straight down without any kind of change in direction or course. Hence those two rivers run straight through Yunnan, past China and into other areas of Asia, like Myanmar and Cambodia. But the Yangtze makes a sharp, almost right-angled turn and runs through the whole of China, thereby opening up lots more new ground for civilisation to spring. I guess for such a huge country, the ready availability of water is of great significance, and the Shigu Town just happens to be the site where the Yangtze River makes that all-important turn.

We had an impromptu, expensive but extremely enjoyable banana-boat-esque ride down the Yangtze River. The water was incredibly clear, wind was whipping in our faces, and with the beautiful mountains all around there was really nothing much lacking... there was nobody else in sight, so that was an added bonus. We alighted for a break at a particularly lovely beach spot. The sand was amazingly fine and soft, like liquid gold, and indeed that whole section of the river is called Jin Sha Jiang (Gold Sand River) and the sand literally glitters in the sun. Apparently there is gold in the sand, except it's a terribly difficult job to extract it.

After the boatride Master Li brought us along a windy, bumpy mountain trail to the first stone of Tiger Leaping Gorge. I know I said we weren't going to trek there, but the thing is, there are 3 main stones that are the attraction of Tiger Leaping Gorge, and the trek is to see the second stone, which you can actually stand on to take beautiful photographs of the gorge and all (I know this because an Australian traveller who was in the hostel with us showed me his photos from his trek). But a lot of tourists also go to the first stone, which is accessible via bus and some walking. The point of the stone, I guess, is tied to the whole concept of the gorge - it is said that years ago, a tiger who was fleeing from a hunter managed to cross the gorge by jumping on and springing off the stone in the middle of the gorge. I personally didn't think it was likely, given the steepness of the surrounding cliffs and the enormity of the river, but my brother insisted it was possible and I guess I shouldn't be bursting bubbles all the time, hahaha.

So we were on our way to the first stone. But the drama now unfolds - the Lijiang side of the gorge was closed at 4pm (prematurely early, apparently, but eh, China :/) and so we didn't have the time to walk the hour or so required to see the stone. But Master Li unleashed his secret weapon - the cellphone - and proceeded to make a phone call to his friend, a driver from the Shangri-La side of the gorge. After some negotiation she crossed the bridge in her minivan (which, incidentally they call mian bao che (bread car) - no idea why) and picked us up and sent us over to the Shangri-La side of the gorge, which closes at 8pm. We climbed down and up for about an hour or so to see the stone.

The scene was, I think, pretty darn worth the trip. The noise of the rushing water was deafening. The view from down near the shore, just above the piles of rock and the rush of the water, the sheer rock faces on both sides of the river... wow. The ascent back up was quite tiring though, because of the steep climb and the altitude and the growing cold and darkness of sunset. When we emerged panting, we hopped into the van again and went back over to the Lijiang side of the gorge and Master Li drove us back to town in the growing cover of night.

From that point on everything becomes a lot fuzzier (in the dazed and confused sense) and a lot less fuzzy (in the warm, happy plush toys sense). I was feeling terrible from stomach up and while my family was happily having dinner my tummy was churning like the water in the Tiger Leaping Gorge. And I shall spare you the gory details but the bottomline is I stood outside the restaurant and puked out all my lunch (consumed 7h ago, which tells you about the state of my digestive system) and then when we reached the hostel I puked again. Usually I would care about being embarrassed but at the time, none of that surfaced - I crawled into bed after enduring a cold shower and went to sleep thinking that it was just a case of carsickness and that I would be alright in the morning.

Lijiang, 28 Nov

Well I was wrong, and the indigestion got worse to the point where just thinking about food made me feel nauseous. In truth I'd have liked to puke more, to clear my system, but I had practically nothing left in me to puke : ( My parents, out of sheer pity, declared that day a day of rest and we stayed in the room for most of the morning. Then we went downstairs to reception to settle some things and met another young Singaporean couple, Faith and JQ, who were also staying at Panba. (The accent gave everything away, hahaha.)

We went out for lunch together but I don't remember much except feeling horrible and leaving lunch halfway to sit by the river and stare into space because I couldn't look at food any longer : ( After that we went back to the hostel and my parents kindly allowed my brother and me to deposit ourselves there while they went out. I slept through the afternoon while my brother watched How I Met Your Mother (he'd downloaded an entire season onto his phone, that bored boy) and by the time I woke up it was time for dinner, which for me was a packet of instant soup given that I could hardly stomach anything else. I forced it down and hoped to goodness that it wouldn't come up in the reverse direction.

Predictably my parents had spent the afternoon in the Lijiang local supermarket and had returned bearing tons of new stuff both edible (didn't taste good though) and non-edible. Mom makes it a point to visit local supermarkets because she believes that "while it may not be the cheapest, it certainly won't be the most expensive".

After dinner I slept some more, determined to rid my tummy of that horrible feeling.

Lijiang, 29 Nov

Woke up feeling slightly better (yay) and so we went out early in the morning and the day was generally filled with shopping (it's a must when the exchange rate is so damn good. although this engenders another whole train of discourse about artificial depression of currency and how sustainable this is in the long term. but I'll spare you.). We bought leather bags and a lot of tea and an adorable owl-shaped bag (as gifts).

Then we walked to the local wet market which was an experience in itself - it's pretty huge, with stalls selling fish and meat and vegetables and fruits and little puppies and teapots... not all for eating, of course. My most :/ moment was seeing a bunch of piglets snoozing in a wheelbarrow packed with straw, looking incredibly peaceful and blissfully unaware of the slaughter that awaited them.

After the market we went to a nearby roadside stall where we had the cheapest (21 yuan for the 4 of us) and almost the best-tasting meal of our trip. We had 2 bowls of fried rice and 1 bowl of rice noodle soup and 9 meat buns, all for 21 yuan!!! I didn't eat much, though, because my tummy was acting up again, but the rice was good : D After a quick detour to the supermarket (yet again), we headed bsck to the hostel where we had the earliest shower of our trip and then went downstairs for dinner with the hostel staff.

The staff were incredibly kind and make century egg pork porridge just for my poor stomach, and that was just characteristic of the hospitality and going-out-of-the-way-to-help service that we enjoyed during our stay at Panba. It was really really awesome, the staff always going the extra mile and being extremely friendly and welcoming. Our 6 days there felt almost way too short. Huge thumbs up to Panba and if you guys ever go to Lijiang and want a youth hostel experience, Panba is for you.

After dinner I felt well enough to go on the computer and try my hand at going on MSN - lo and behold, guess who was online : D Talked to Deb and O and a couple of other people and I felt immensely cheered up by that link to home. And I was reading The Straits Times Online to find out what was happening at home (holidays really pull you out of the news loop, lol) but sadly the Chinese government blocks Blogger and FB... so :/ I was talking to Mr Yang about it and he told me about this Chinese proverb that says that you cannot suppress a river forever. After speaking to Chinese locals this trip I have more mixed feelings about China than ever, it seems like my perceptions of it before the trip have not only been validated, but also sharpened somewhat, and I only hope that the government will stop being such hypocrites soon. Ugh.

And then there were a couple of the other guests at the hostel who came downstairs and we talked for a bit - there was an Israeli guy, as well as 3 Australian Chinese university students. I got around to talking to one of them, a guy who is studying Law, and we proceeded to have a somewhat surreal (given that we were sitting in the middle of China late at night) conversation about history, the humanities, China, Singapore, Australia, national identity, the world in 20 years and sense of belonging (in no particular order). It was enlightening, and I agree with one of the travellers when he said that half of travelling is seeing placed, and the other half is meeting new people. It was a good night : D

Lijiang, 30 Nov

The morning was uneventful; we packed and my stomach problem morphed from indigestion into terrible diarrhea, and before we knew it it was time to leave for the airport.

We reached the airport, checking in and were all ready to leave on our 1pm flight when we were suddenly informed that our flight was delayed - indefinitely! It ended up being a 3h15min wait during which the airport people provided packet lunch (of which I only consumed 2 mouthfuls of white rice and felt awful) and I watched a couple of episodes of HIMYM upon my brother's nagging and insistence that "laughter is the best medicine". Oh, That Boy. Sometimes I want to squish him (for a multitude of reasons) but now he is way taller than me. I also finished my The Commonwealth of Thieves book, FINALLY. It's really more of a narration than anything. Which I guess is fine with me, just that I was getting to used to having very strong viewpoints and critical analyses of situations by historians in the books that I'm reading. But it was an efficient read in the sense that it gave a good picture of the founding of Australia, those childhood years of the nation; it was also well-researched, with lots of interesting little details. The language was nice and simple without simplifying, which made it an easy read.

When we arrived in Kunming we braved the heavy, heavy traffic back to The Hump Hostel, which was a place we were trying out since Mom hated Long May's cold hard beds. The Hump is a charming place, a lot bigger than Panba and fairly well-established as the youth hostel to be at in Kunming. It really has the youth hostel feel reminiscent of the Alice Springs youth hostel we stayed at in 2007, with all sorts of people walking around the bar/lobby area and an almost-tunnel like corridor leading down a maze of rooms, as opposed to the smaller, cosier establishments like Panba and Bukit Tinggi's Hotel Kartini.

We had a pretty little room with a beautiful porcelain blue and white sink (hahah I just had to mention it) and a little loft area with a heater (!!!). I failed to really appreciate it because my stomach was killing me (and by this time my dad had diarrhea too) and after dinner (the Hump serves really good Western food, btw, even though I only had a bite of it) I crashed into bed after showering :/

Kunming, 1 Dec

Woke up feeling relatively better (Dad and I took turns in the night getting up and using the toilet -.-) and we packed up, then went for breakfast, which was pretty good even though all I had was plain toast : ( After breakfast we still had an hour or so before we had to go to the airport and so we embarked on a brisk exploration of the vicinity, which happened to be the city centre. Shops were open even at 10am, joy! Ended up buying sneakers for my brother and sighing in resignation at the beautiful coats and boots and winterwear on sale everywhere (Mom and I controlled ourselves, since SG weather would never support such fashions).

Returned back to the Hump, checked out and made it to the airport in a cab with a very friendly driver, who regaled us with stories about Kunming's people and weather and traffic. It was interesting how most Kunming and Lijiang business owners and workers aren't locals, but are people from other parts of China, especially those from the northern parts. Apparently the locals aren't too ambitious either, just wanting to make enough money to get by (quite the contrast from the stereotype of Chinese as being ultra-competitive and driven).

Got into the airport and onto the plane without many hiccups and I started writing about the trip (the records of 27 Nov onwards) right after takeoff. It wasn't a full flight and so there were empty seats behind and I took ample opportunity to get up and annoy my parents (who, as typical Singaporeans, had occupied those empty seats on the grounds that there was more leg room. Funnily enough the Chinese lady who had originally been in the same row of seats as them promptly lifted all the armrests and stretched herself out on the seats to sleep the moment they got up and left.). It was about 17min to landing when I finished the account.

All in all China's had its good and not-so-good, but it's definitely been enriching. And I guess I should focus on the good moments, like talking to people, feeling small and insignificant against the majestic backdrop of snow mountains and rushing water and green fields (recurring theme in my travel writing, if you've noticed, hahaha) and having certain thoughts provoked into being by the new experiences I've had. I think travel has given me an education of its own, and I'm grateful for it, and for the road less travelled espoused by my parents when they bring us on these voyages of ours.

This is a prominent Chinese quote (despite it being translated from Marx) that my Chinese teacher (who is from mainland China) once told us about before. I think it sums up what I feel about this trip - it was revolving in my head from the very beginning.

只有在那崎岖的小路上不畏艰险奋勇攀登的人, 才有希望达到光辉的顶点。
－马克思

~fin

Labels: connections, events, family, history, places, self, thoughts, voyage

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Friday, December 11, 2009
Shale

WEP is over and the whole experience seemed short and long at the same time; strangely enough despite the brainlessness of it all it was actually enriching, but more from unintended, bumped-into moments than from any kind of purpose or substance to the work we were doing. I don't think that made much sense but it's okay. I'm grateful for many things, especially for Yu-Jia who has just been amazing company (ever so willing to humour my geeky impulses and to offer her opinions and to just talk) and Arif who has been incredibly nice to us (buying us food and, uh, sharing the wonders of trance, and enlightening us on work-life balance) and Shabri (with a H) who is always telling me patiently not to be resentful; and then there's everyone else there, including the security uncles, who have just been kind and understanding of us two blur kids trying to fumble our way around ACM. The past 5 days have exceeded my expectations, really.

--

I am more than halfway through Power/Knowledge and will finish it by the end of this weekend! The library beckons next week; I must get my hands on Stuff, including Conrad's Heart of Darkness and other classics that I've always wanted to read but never been able to do.

Anyway that was all tangential; I actually just wanted to blog to squeal about today's encounter with some youngish Singaporean guy in the ACM - he was filling in a feedback form and I was reading Power/Knowledge while waiting and when he returned the form to me he said something about how it's rare to find people my age reading Foucault (tell me about it, hahaha) and we proceeded to have a tiny semi-conversation about him. It wasn't much but I got so excited I just couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the afternoon.

I am totally justified in feeling excited, by the way. Nobody, nobody else I know other than (a handful of) teachers know who the heck Foucault is. Bonus: the guy read The Birth of the Clinic. I don't know him and he doesn't know me and it's not that big a deal but - meh, when it seems that nobody else is interested in what I read, finding a fellow reader becomes like the discovery of buried gold.

Ok it seems like the only way to somehow balance passion and practicality in my Plans for the Future is to do a double major, or something. But - wth? What makes me think that I could handle even ONE degree, given the scary-looking amounts of reading there seems to be? Also, I am definitely not going to stop at a bachelor's, and therefore will my second major somehow become redundant, time-wise at least? I don't know enough about university courses and whatnot. I am not making informed decisions. Help.

The age of 18 scares me to death. I don't want to go there.

Labels: books, connections, Michel Foucault, self, thoughts

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Wednesday, December 09, 2009
Padlock

So I've been incredibly tired these few evenings, with absolutely zilch mood to do any kind of writing or remotely intelligent work, but I just had to blog to keep track of... my reading. Hahaha how much geekier could this get, right.

Anyway, I finished the Che book, which turned out to be a lot less philosophical and idealist than I expected. They were really just diaries, recording the mundane day-to-day existence of the guerrillas in Cuba/Bolivia, very dry, factual accounts of food shortages and lists of supplies and who was killed or wounded, and the beautiful words were just a tiny part of it all. In terms of emotionally moving, linguistically awe-inspiring works, Mein Kampf still trumps all, I think, hahah. The Che book was useful as a historical source, more than as a text with any kind of persuasive power. Then again, it wasn't ever intended to be published, while Mein Kampf obviously had a political agenda, so I guess that explains it. (Ironic! an entire industry has built around Che (and Mao, and communist) memorabilia, which serves no other function other than to feed the capitalist spirit.)

Also, over the course of a day at work I finished Alligator by Lisa Moore, which I felt had highs and lows; I thought the multi-strand narrative was slightly tacky and pretty confusing, and the plot moved along with excruciating slowness. Also it was - dull, which was disappointing. All that being said, though, her style is superb. Whatever inventiveness leaked out from her plot probably settled in her language, because the imagery is stark and arresting, and she captures moments in all their tragedy without resorting to melodrama. Whatever she writes is laced with the tang of reality, of hard-edged life, where there is no such thing as convenient miracles and people are just people, nothing more nothing less. (So perhaps the dullness is intended.)

All the characters are dogged with a sense of loneliness and urban isolation which renders the book deeply modernist, and the strange yet plausible characters and the plain understated ugly oddness of the whole story contribute further; I was halfway through the book when it occurred to me that this might become a minor literature text sometime somewhere. I don't like all of it, but then again I usually don't fall for lit texts hook, line and sinker - sue me.

I am on Power/Knowledge now, which is a collection of Foucault's writings and lectures and interviews; it is a really difficult book to read and I'm just going to have to slave away at it. The interviews are easier to read, even though the amount of crit theory jargon is suffocating; so far I've enjoyed the Prison Talk chapter the most, but there was an interesting one about geography as well. His discussion with the Maoists about the court and popular justice was highly fascinating, but slightly long-drawn-out. There's still slightly more than half a book left and we'll see what happens. Foucault is such an intriguing author in that he tackles so many less-explored aspects of society and mines the areas for all they're worth and really gets to what is at the heart of thought and reason, and he's a brilliant thinker. And what he studies is always relevant, always real and concrete and not just abstractions, and he never binds himself to a narrow existing theory. Oh, I tremble in awe :/

Work has been ok, not fantastic or terribly stimulating but then again I wasn't really expecting much so it's alright. Besides it is pretty impossible for interns to ever get huge jobs; the people working there are very nice to us and that's really enough to make work ok. Also a huge plus is that we can read while there's nothing to do, and Yu Jia and I have spent hours today just talking, so that's all good : ) So all in all, I guess it doesn't really matter that the most exciting hour of the day is lunch, hahahah.

On a somewhat related but very childlike note - I cannot gush enough about how much I love the Singapore River. It's like an oasis in the middle of the concrete city jungle and there is wind and (often) sun and beautiful water and there is SPACE, there is air for everyone to breathe as opposed to Orchard and Vivo and all those other claustrophobic malls. I was seriously telling myself that I wanted to work in the vicinity "when I grow up"; I would take the MRT to work everyday and save on the petrol and COE and carbon footprint, and I'd have quick lunches with other professional-looking people, and if I wanted solitude I would have sandwiches while strolling along the river. And when I worked overtime and left the office only late at night I would emerge from the building and sigh in pleasure at the sight of all the lights and colour and life along the river.

But I can't imagine for the life of me how a history degree would lead up to me working in the financial district, so - I guess that plan's on hold.

--

I sometimes wonder if I am way too ambitious for my own good; I want everything and yes I'll work for it but maybe I won't get it and then, and then my heart might break and I'm afraid I might snap because I'm insecure and unpredictable and way too caught up. I do not really encounter a state of contentment anytime in life; it's always about moving on, moving up and I wonder how advisable that is, given that I am bound to fail sometime and that this pace might be a bit too hammering for me and dammit, I might burn out! Though at this point in time I don't see any way I possibly could. Reading and thinking is never simply a chore - assuming, of course, that I'm reading and thinking about things I actually care about. But beyond the burnout and the heartbreak there's some kind of moral boundary I am afraid to cross; where does ambition end and greed begin? I want to be great and greater and greater. Man I sound old.

Ah, heck. I am going to chase what I want, and that will be that.

Labels: books, insecurities, Michel Foucault, places, self, thoughts

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Sunday, December 06, 2009
Shot

I finished The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn this morning; it inspired a lot of mixed feelings. It's an incredibly complex tale, I think, but for me the angle that stood out most was the exploration of racism. Jim was a character whom I ended up somehow falling in love with, not in the romantic sense but in the sense that I felt incredibly inadequate and ashamed of myself next to his heart of gold. At the same time as that admiration of sorts, I felt pity, as well, because of the blatant unfairness of his situation as a slave (well of course I'm reading it from the biased perspective of a liberal 21st-century kid) and also, frankly speaking, his lack of education (which I feel made a huge, huge difference in everything).

I think the Jim/Huck dynamic was both touching and disturbing, and therefore highly interesting; they obviously care a lot about each other but it's an obviously unequal relationship in terms of who wields authority. Well besides those two, the other characters just managed to annoy me in one way or another - Tom Sawyer was an all-around idiot, the Grangerford-Shepherdson conflict was exasperating, and I just wanted to do something violent to the "king" and the "duke".

I was intrigued by Huck's struggle between his conscience (shaped by somewhat crooked societal values, hence "nurtured" more than anything) and his compassion ("nature"), because usually the two are so closely linked it seems impossible for them to conflict.

But I was glad for the ending; it gave me a warm fuzzy feeling to think of that raft floating down the river, towards new adventures and (I hope with all my heart) better days.

--

I'm on Che Guevara's diaries now, and his words are just beautiful. I really don't believe in communism, or in his cause, but I believe in his passion and his strength of conviction, and that alone makes me feel.

"Let me say, at the risk of sounding ridiculous, that the true revolutionary is guided by great feelings of love."
- Ernesto Che Guevara

Those were the opening words to the book and - they were enough to make me melt. I am young and naive and way too easily swayed by words, but Che inspires, he truly does.

Labels: books, huck finn, literature, self, thoughts

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