Still Thinking…

Dear Cookie,

I hope you are safe, wherever you are. You are very much missed,and your absence have been keeping both of us anxious at night – from both ends of the globe. I hope someone has found you, and have generously kept you warm and fed in their home .

It has been 5 long days and I pray that you will one day find your way to the cat door. Your bowl of food and your favourite toy is right there waiting for you. I am even looking at a live webcam setup just for you, in case you walk in and I can see you.

I remember the day of my departure for SG, you were jumping happily on the frosted grass and was looking at me over the hedge.You made me walk back into the garden and play hide-and-seek with you for a minute or two more, so that you will get distracted. The last time I saw you was when you joyfully hopped your way to the shed.

Stay safe Cookie. We will never give up looking for you.

A recent tragedy happened at the very same airport that I frequent. I cannot describe to you how incredibly sad the story is, the story of a 40-year old Polish man who took the first flight of his life to be in Canada and get reunited with his waiting mother.

The story is all over the news here in Canada. The Polish man is a new immigrant, and does not speak English. He arrived at the Vancouver International Airport and waited for at the baggage area for his mother, as instructed. For some reason they never found each other, and his mum returned to Kamloops, several hours drive away – possibly worried.

What happened was that the man was at the airport, waited for his mum and was hanging around the airport baggage claim area for 6 hours. Many who read the story were perplexed why wouldn’t any airport staff approach him and find a translator to communicate with him, but that’s another issue. After that many hours of waiting for your mother in a new country, not speaking any English and possibly very hungry and thirsty as well – anyone would be agitated. He was and he did throw some tantrums and the security and police were called.

The police came. They saw him, he was not even violent – just agitated I would say. The police were told by people at the airport that he does not speak English but they still did. He walked away and he was tasered. And the man died.

The mum, who by now has returned to Kamloops, were told by airport staff that they have located her son. She drove back to Vancouver and I can only imagine how relieved she must have felt and how excited she was to have her son in Canada. Instead of the warm embrace she was possibly looking forward to, the mother had a lifeless body to hold.

When this story first broke, the reactions were many. I followed the story closely and was waiting anxiously for the video of the incident to be released. The video was recorded by a passenger who was at the incident. When it was broadcasted last night, I cried alone in my living room. I saw the Polish man’s confused face and could not believe how rough the police was to a confused man.

This morning, DH and I talked abt the incident again. Then he told me that the mother could have flown the son direct from Poland to Kamloops, but wanted him to stop at Vancouver so that she can take him on the long drive from Vancouver to Kamloops. Why? Because she wanted him to see how beautiful Canada is. I cried. Again. And again.

There are many news report that affect me. Some are stories that I myself have to report as a journalist back then, and many of them remain vaguely in my memory.But this one, I think, is one I truly cannot forget.

I leave you with the video to make your own judgement.

Hmmm…feels like back home, doesn’t it?
Notice how ‘Smith’ is way down in the pile.
Here is a list of Vancouver’s most common surnames, in ascending order.

WONG 2,928
LEE 2,543
CHAN 1,927
CHEN 1,123
LI 1,111
LEUNG 873
LAM 869
SMITH 848
NG 771
WANG 766

I have been a fervent non-champion of anything fiction. I don’t grow up with novels, yes including the romance ones that my eldest sister and late cousin used to devour. I did read a book or two of Enid Blyton, and the several books I got for birthday presents and everything else was a blur.

Now when it comes to non-fiction, you are talking about different levels with me. I lurvee to see logic and congruity. I love facts when they are backed up, even leftist opinions at that. I like clever twists, only when facts are involved. I get more excited by the opinion that reality is a perception… oh what millions of pandora boxes that opens!!

My non-affiliation with fiction extended to tv and movies.DH will be the first to testify he hates, make that HATES watching anything fiction with me. I have a million questions (and comments) on why that character did this and that, why the plot twist must be to THAT way, and what was the writer thinking of when he pulled out THAT surprise. He thinks I am obsessed with tearing things apart, and I always argued back it is because it is my inability to appreciate fiction as much he does. (DH is the kind of audience any producer loves. He watches episodes after episodes of his favourite drama series back to back, and knows the characters so well he can write a 500 page dossier psychonalysing them).

Now, I think I agree with him. I have not told him this of course, I am writing this away safely locked in our home office while he is , well, watching another episode of Heroes. How I come to this realisation is uncanny.

I recently commissioned an experienced TV writer to write a mini-bible for a drama series we are developing. He wrote a 10-pager, sent it in and the drill was to get a colleague in the SG office to review it, while I work on other things involved in getting the pilot commissioned. After all, I am not a drama fan, and my closest partner and colleague in SG knows that well.

When the draft came in, I was scrutinising the pages with a red pen, read and re-read it again – sitting down at my desk, slouched on the sofa with my MacBook, horizontal on my bed …you get the idea. I went through the lines, the choice of names, the continuity of the scenes and I don’t know what else. Mind you, this is only the mini-bible – NOT the script. I had so many comments about this and that, I cannot wait to speak with the said writer.

Now… if you use logic – how can a non-drama fan, who would rather blog than to watch Heroes with her husband in the living room, be so critical of a drama in development? I don’t see the connection at all. Am I a champion of dramas? No. The only connection I see is the fact that I want to see congruity – and the only way to do that is by tearing things up.

So DH is right? Brrr. Now don’t you go telling him that. That would be a spoiler, and we don’t want scenes like that too early in the plot. Hahahaha…

Ahhh…the things we take for granted. My Singaporean self is so used to celebrating Eid or Hari Raya on the same day, yesterday’s hulla-bulloo was a tad overwhelming and regardless, very exciting!

It started the moment I parked my car at Kerrisdale, heart leaping with joy as I was about to hop myself to Pier 1 Imports to get me some nice cookie containers and Fall accents for the house. DH and I planned to drive to Mission on Raya Eve to sleepover and spend Raya there – so our house has to be ready before we take the long drive. Eve of Raya is not till the next day, so I was patting my own back for being one day early in my prep.

That’s when my phone ring (yes right after I got out of the car, typical dramatic point!) and it was MIL. She said the mosque nearest to the Mission house is celebrating Raya the next day ! What ? But I am not ready, I said ! So she asked what method are we following – and I told her I have to call her back in an hour while I consult the resident ‘ustaz’ in my house, DH.

As I stood there flustered by the prospect that I may not be having my first ever Raya abroad with my only family here – my in-laws, I understandably could not find any coins to insert into the parking machine. Darn. This is not a good time to park illegally in Kerrisdale, I thought. The street was very busy and I need to get my shopping done. But if Raya is the next day, I also need to get home so we can get to Mission on time.

Then as if on cue, the (sometimes) annoying Blackberry had a red light. An email came from a good friend here, and the title? “Eid Tommorrow”, or something like that. Arrggh!! Is this serious?! Eid is suppose to be on Saturday, not Friday – the day before I need to go shopping leisurely! I called her and had a yakkety yak about my own confusion, and she did a quick briefing of the different methods – global and local sighting, and how DH and I have to basically decide which method we follow. The reason? Mosques in Vancouver (and mostly Canada and US) differ in the methods – so it depends on which method you are comfortable with. She follows the global sighting method.

So I called DH, who took my call with the most calm and unperturbed manner when it comes to Eid-Day excitement. Typical engineer self versus bohemian social science person.

Me ? I was so excited I must have spoken so fast, that I can barely understood myself. I wanted to know when WE are celebrating Eid. Basically – are we global sighters or local sighters, I asked. “Why is that a question?”, he said. “We follow local sighting, no question. So we have to wait until the local sighting mosques make an annoucement”. Wait? Did I hear WAIT ? But there is no waiting in Singapore! We just KNOW when Raya is and plan our lives way ahead of it!!

The next 2 hours of my life, between Kerrisdale and my place – my mind was whirling with all the “Why must this happen to me on my first Raya abroad ?? ” thoughts. Yes, negative ones. You see, as a virgin on celebrating Raya abroad, I was calculated in taking care of not being too sad about being away from my own family and friends. I thought that hey, just don’t be in 2 minds about wanting to be in 2 different places for Raya, celebrate with the in laws and the Malay Muslim families in Vancouver and I should be able to forget the ‘missing Singapore’ bit. But if Raya is to be celebrated on Friday as announced by that 1st mosque, I am in danger. Because I assumed that most Malay Muslim families and my in-laws would follow THAT mosque since it is very near their homes. And so my celebration fantasy will dissapear into thin air. I had initially wanted to celebrate Raya with my friend and her family too, but since she has planned to visit some families in Victoria (an offshore island off Vancouver), I had meticulously erased THAT celebration fantasy off my head. I am left with the in-laws and Malay Muslim families as my respite, so they cannot be celebrating a day ahead of me!

Yes, yes, I know. Selfish minds. It is called pain management, ok.

The long wait finally came to a close when I educated myself with what the global sighting and local sighting method is, by reading, making calls and reflecting. It was the fastest discourse I have ever done when it comes to religious matters, but I concur with DH’s decision on using the local sighting method. So now that my heart is rested well about WHEN Raya will be for us, we waited for the big announcement if there were any local sighting of the Syawal crescent in Western Canada.

When in anxiety, you should zikir yes? Well I did, for a few minutes. My hand then picked up the phone to call who else but ? Yes, Mak. Told her about the hulla-bulloo and she was so amused by it and how I am ‘suffering’. Thank God Mak has a sense of humour. If she has been the bawling type who waxes lyrical about oh-why-must-you-be-so-far-away-on-Raya-day , then I would be in tears faster than an F1 pit stop. Her cheerfulness cheered me up, so I was upbeat again. Another respite came from a close friend in Singapore who called and after hearing out my rapid-fire anxiety of uncertain Raya celebration, she said, “Oh dear !! Oh dear !! Major dilemma for you, man ! Jalan Raya fun or completing Ramadan!”. Darn. Hit home like nail. I thought I grew up.

A few hours passed and finally announcements were made by other mosques about when Eid will be. No crescent was sighted locally so Raya will be on Saturday. MIL decided to follow local sighting too and so my entire in-laws family will be having Raya on Saturday, yay! So its back to Plan A – clean up the house, drive to Mission, cook up a storm with MIL, gorging on the Kuih Makmur and Kuih Tat that SIL and me made over 6 hours that day, etc etc. Raya will be on Saturday and I assume the Malay Muslim families on that part of Vancouver are doing it then too. Ah bliss.

After our last terawih together, DH and I went to the supermarket to get last minute supplies – yes fresh flowers included. I may not have the fun of ‘stealing’ leaves from the Chinese cemetery in Singapore with my kookoo cousins this year, but heck, I am paying for them this time.

Selamat Hari Raya everyone.

Many eons ago when Madonna was hot and wearing leg warmers (even in tropical heat!) was a fashion statement, I used to wonder what the Terawih prayers was about. I couldn’t wrap my head around praying for more than 4 rakaats (in Terawih, the minimum is 8) in Ramadan especially when you were feeling exhausted from fasting the whole day. I would stay home, watch TV and sleep before my family returned from the mosque. Mak, bless her for her unimposing ways – had always reminded me to go for Terawih prayers when I am ready, but reminded me more sternly that my wajib prayers have to be perfected first.

Therefore, my love of doing Terawih during Ramadan only started in my young adult years. I remember it was in my early 20s, and there was a group of us (very close friends) who frequented Hard Rock Cafe often enough to get ‘special entry’ from the back door. It was Ramadan, and we all decided to pray more. Mak was our pillar then, she guided us every step of the way even if she knew that we were going through a phase. My friend (who was the only one who drove then) would pick all of us up in his 2 door sports Fiat, my mum included. And even though she would have preferred to go to the nearby Al Ansar mosque where most of her friends were, my friends and I insisted that we wanted to pray Terawih at a more ‘hip’ mosque – the Masjid Kampung Siglap. And so she would oblige our whims and young fancies, never once did she seem unsupportive of our new spiritual journey. After every prayer, she would accomodate and follow us to eat supper at a nearby coffee shop, and answered all of our silly questions about religion and how do to our this and that right.

When I moved to Tampines, I observed how my mum would walk (even when she is limping) to the mosque with her plastic water bottle in hand, to do the Terawih every single night. I would follow suit, but while Mak would be doing 20 rakaats, I would be doing the minimum 8. My nieces and nephews do Terawih effortlessly too, and it made me think about how young they start doing such beautiful prayers during Ramadan. I am so proud of them.

And during the last 10 days of Ramadan, Mak would be hobbling again to the mosque at 3 am in the morning for the Qiyammulail prayers and I would wonder again. I observed, asked all the questions I need to ask and as expected, she answered in her most patient manner and usual soft spoken ways (yes, I did not inherit this personality trait. I am loud, many says a surefire sign that I am my father’s daughter!). When I finally went for the Qiyammulail for the first time, my goodness…what did I miss ! Qiyam is an experience on its own that everyone MUST try at least once in their life.

Now being so far away from her, my spiritual journey is my own. I don’t have her to lead by example and for me to ask questions to, but both DH and I still think of her first when we have a question to ask about religion. We do our Terawih at different mosques to experience Canada’s diversity, and I feel blessed with all the different imams who have been leading the Terawih this Ramadan. I have never had a series of Terawih done with different styles of reading the surah’s all in one Ramadan. Because of the different mazhabs, there are also little differences on how we all do our prayers, but I have learnt to tolerate, educate when asked and inform when someone is learning.

I seriously think that if left on my own, I wouldn’t have the wisdom to be as patient and unimposing, especially when it comes to religion. I learnt that from Mak, as I now realised how patient she has been with me in my growing years.

God knows how I miss her.

I finally managed to quench my thirst for a real Ramadan last night. “Real” – is to me the observation of doing things way beyond fasting and daily prayers, and trying to do a bit more than the usual. It was my first terawih prayer for the year, the first done in Canada and how sweet it was that it was also the first time that DH and I are able to go for terawih prayers together. All these years, we have been observing Ramadan in different parts of the world – all 18,000 km of it, and made do with our own little spiritual journeys. We don’t have the luxury of going for terawih or qiyam together as a couple, hand in hand in Ramadan, as we keep each other posted about our spiritual investment via long distance phone calls.

Anyway, my first 2 weeks of Ramadan flew past me in a whiff. I was caught up in work and my colleague from the SG office as in town. In between – I was in Toronto too. In Toronto, I found out that some halal restaurants are opened till sahur, how cool is that. In this industry, most meetings are done over lunches, coffees and dinners and I had to endure quite a few of those while fasting. It was me (and my colleague) who insisted that the meetings will carry on anyway, regardless of the fact that we won’t be eating. We both felt the same way – it is us who are fasting, not the broadcasters or other non-Muslim producers. We should not impose on others.

So a few meetings went by with us sitting across the table, – while the others eat. It was a funny scene to say the least.

My first terawih prayers was beautiful. We prayed at Richmond Mosque, which I think is the first mosque ever built in Vancouver. When we were finished, I walked slowly to the mosque entrance looking for DH and it was then that it hit me – this is the first time we go for terawih together after 4 years of marriage. In a typical setting, some people may feel sad but yesterday, I felt blessed. Vancouver was windy last night and the sky was exceptionally bright. I love windy nights and with the Autumn leaves falling, everything was perfect.

I don’t wish to look back and see how my last 15 days of Ramadan was ‘wasted’. A casting agent friend called to check if I was going to the film festival’s gala last night, and I proudly said no. When he asked why, I said : “I am not going, I have a lot to catch up. You have no idea.” He must have thought that I am buried in budgets and treatments. All I had in mind is I need to race for what’s left for the holy month.

I may have not started Ramadan this year with a pole position, but I am not disheartened. My real Ramadan is just about to begin, even if it was a tad late – starting at 16*.

nb *: 16 being the 16th day of Ramadan

I never had a Jewish friend, neither do I know much about Judaism. Yes, shame on me. I feel that I should know the basics at least of one of the 3 monotheistic religions in the world , but I don’t. There is so much about comparing Christianity and Islam that I tend to ignore, the third.

Well, that changed since I met AG. A fellow producer, we have much to talk about. He had some difficult times lately and a month ago, he moved out and is in a new apartment in the same neighbourhood where we live.Two weeks ago, I made a humoungous amount of mee goreng and dropped a pot for him. Told him it is a Malay thing. And he walloped it all.

Anyway, today we decided to meet so he can pass the pot back to me. It was during the queue at Cafe Artigianno that this conversation happen.

AG: So is Ramadan today?

ME: Huh? No..if not why would I be queueing for coffee with you?!

AG: Oh yeah

ME: I want to eat something…hmmm(looks at lemon muffin)

AG: You know today is our Rosh Hashana

ME: Rush what ?

AG: Rosh Hashana.

ME: What’s that?

AG: Its our New Year.

ME: Oh really?? So why aren’t you celebrating?

AG: Because it starts tonight. At sunset.

So that was my AHA moment. At sunset? Rosh Hashana? Isn’t that the same time as when Ramadan sets in?

I have never heard of Rosh Hashana before so there were quite a lot of questions that AG had to answer. Poor him. But I was intriqued. Rosh Hashana never falls on a definitive date. Like Ramadan, it is a lunar sequence. The Jews celebrate it in prayer and by blowing on the shofar, a special horn.

Apparently, Rosh Hashana has been coinciding with Ramadan for the past 3 years, a rarity says the experts. Masya’allah only Allah knows the secrets.

Ramadan Mubarak everyone. May this year be a better reflection of ourselves than the last.

Ah again. Five times in a row.
Vancouver is voted as the most liveable city in the world, by the Economist magazine.

Way back before I got hitched to a certain supergeek who made Canada his home 18 years ago, Vancouver let alone Canada – has never been on my have-to-travel list. I know it is a pretty city, but I don’t care much about it because ‘pretty’ is not an adjective that attracts me as a city when it comes to exploring. My young blood then hungers for raw energy in a city, so being all pretty and dandy is errr…unattractive. Funny eh?

My first year living in Canada was not in Vancouver, but in Mission – 1 hour drive away from Van . It is a little sleepy country town, flanked by salmon-filled rivers and clear creeks. We have a monstrous house and lots of greens. I remember reading the news about how Vancouver is the most liveable city then, and I was curious. My relationship with the city was contained within the context of having meetings, hanging out in the robust coffee culture and of course the usual visits.I like Vancouver then, but am not sure about its livability.

Now that we have moved to Vancouver, I can vouch for the tag the city has earned. Vancouver is very pretty, but more than that – I love how graceful the general society is. I fell in love with the love people have for animals here, the respect for differences and the general courtesy even on roads. I recalled a cousin from SG who was here last Spring. She was crossing the road and saw a car coming. She stoppped, thinking that she should let the car passed. But in Canada, most cars will stop instead to let the pedestrian pass (even with a long line of cars behind you). This happened many times, and she went home impressed. I don’t notice these things. I should, I know.

I love the variety of landscapes that Vancouver has, both geographically and in its people. Only in Van can you find mountains, the blue water, rivers and a high-rise buildings next to each other. We live near the beach, and it so happens that our place is on top of a hill. Our morning drives to downtown means we get a full view of the mountains, the beach and the skyline and a few minutes later, we are driving parallel to the coastline. Now that it is summer, you can see seagulls flying past and the beach crowd basking in the sun. It is a gorgeous way to start your morning, and we are always happy driving from Mackenzie Heights (where we are), past Kitsilano Beach and then crossing over to historic Gastown (where DH’s office is).

And only in Van, can you see literally a variety of colours in peoples’ skin.

However, Vancouver is not without its downsides. There are poor areas, and there are very-open druggie infested parks. There are also the not so pretty sides of Vancouver, though I must say these areas usually have the best food ! But I love this diversity.

My own take on the new ranking is, I am blessed and very happy to be in one of the most beautiful city I have ever been in. But that aside, liveability is not a definitive term. How do you define liveability? From whose perspective are we measuring liveability from? John Doe may want a tiny apartment for himself, and to him thats liveable. Jane may want a huge house with a big lawn, and anything less to her is not acceptable. See where I am going at?

If the readers of the Economist are the ones who voted, then chances are these are educated and well-travelled individuals, who would probably be living and sampling the more comfortable side of Vancouver anyway. Of course they see the very pretty and beautiful side of Vancouver every day. In a way, DH and I are cheating by living in that side of town. Our space is small for the huge rent we are paying, but our choice to live on the West Side is totally about location. So we have to bite our tongue and pay the price. We would have loved a bigger space, but this is what we have decided on for now.

Talking about the common Economist readers, I can see it from the area where we are renting right now. You see Bentleys, BMWs and Porches parked on the streets where we are. Our Honda looks a little meek sometimes but thankfully, we don’t have a yearning to have big cars right now. We are just very happy with the proximity of our place to everything we like!

Another issue with liveability is affordability. Vancouver is very expensive to live in. A very pretty heritage house , with only 3 bedrooms and with a fully manicured lawn is a whopping USD$1.5 million at least. And property taxes will easily set you back with US$7000 a year. Surely you want a gardening team with that, like my landlord does. So add that on to your maintenance cost. We both don’t like the idea of slaving our lives for another mortgage, so until such time that we have a whole lot of cash to throw (including the ever-useful gardening team! – renting is hot on our list:) Seriously, can you see DH or I pottering away in our garden to keep cost low ? I think we will end up killing the plants.

Anyway, here is a tribute to the city I now call home. Vancouver is a very nice place to be. So all of you who are still contemplating a visit, just pack your bags and get your a** here. Nothing beats the warmth of family and friends I grew up with in Singapore, but for now, I am content. Alhamdulillah.

Five directors.

None can make the production start date.

Everyone’s filming.

WHO will direct Pirates?

Maybe Cookie can do it. He looks bored anyway.