When I was a kid, we used to fight because of the TV program. My second sister preferred to watch English programmes while my third sister and I preferred Cantonese programmes. I loved to watch Lydia Shum on screen. She was a natural entertainer and humorous too. My love towards Cantonese movies dwindled through the years. Perhaps it was because of the deterioration in the movie quality. More and more senseless movies were shown instead.
Last night, Lydia Shum was on screen once again. It was really nice to watch her act. Mom enjoyed herself too as we watched the movie together. Honestly, I do miss those days when actors like Lydia Shum, Jacky Chan, Bill Tung, Summo Hung, Maggie Cheong, Eric Tsang, Chow Yuen Fatt (and also one bald actor named Roger I think) were popular in Hong Kong. The jokes were logical and humorous and would somehow provide its viewer with the feel good feeling after that.
These days, Cantonese movies do not provide that anymore, jokes are usually senseless and sometimes insulting. Sometimes, the contents do not even convey the right values to the viewers. Gosh, I do miss those days.

An evening with Mrs. Ko

Boon’s leaving for HK tomorrow. I don’t know when will she be back. Nevertheless, I’m glad that the few of us managed to meet up in Mrs. Ko’s home before she left. Boon was my classmate in Primary for six years and undeniably, she is present in my childhood memory. I guess I’m very privileged to be still in touch with these childhood friends, to be able to still see eye to eye even though our lifestyles have changed and our career paths are different.

Here's a picture of us at Mrs. Ko's place. We decided to have our gathering there so that we could also pay Mrs. Ko a visit and spend some time with her. I can't say that yesterday's gathering was oustanding but I was happy to be there, to spend time with old friends, getting together, updating each other on life's experiences. I enjoy such gatherings much more than meeting up in shopping complexes.

Remembering Xavier Hall

I wonder how are they? This picture was taken during my last visit to KL. Will I ever get to take this picture again? I think not but I guess taking a picture of this kind is possible if the new residents are sociable enough. There is no denying that I do miss that home. I wish all the remaining residents are living the very best out of their lives.

Hmmm....I'm very curious to know how my bunga rayas and chili plant is doing. I know my morning glory is no more glorifying but I do hope the bunga rayas have started to flower.

Every motorcyclist’s nightmare is to be drenched on the road. As I was driving to work this morning, it rained heavily. Hundreds of motorcyclist were caught in the rain but many had to continue their journey in order to be on time for work or school. I felt sorry for these people and was very grateful to be driving a car instead of the bike.
What caught my attention was the sight of this father carrying his little girl on the bike. She sat in front of the bike with her legs in the basket while her dad tried his very best to shield her from the rain. I was very touched by what I saw. I’m sure that the father loved the little girl very much for he could have easily used the weather as an excuse to not send his daughter to school.
Sometimes we use the weather as an excuse to cancel appointments, to skip classes or important meetings. But this father, got himself all wet so that his little girl would not miss class. After leaving her at school, it will definitely be another wet ride home or to the work place for this man, yet he took the trouble.
Memories of my own school days came back when papa would send me on his bike to school and he would wrap my school shoes and school bag in the plastic bag so that they remain dry when I get to school. I never felt grateful at that time because most of my classmate’s parents did the same thing. Perhaps we took it for granted that it was a parent’s responsibility. I feel different today, thankful to have experienced my father’s love.

We share the same father but our encounters with him are different. All four of us sisters remember papa for different reasons. My other sisters did not know that papa loved Sarsi.. “Sarsi ci kuan, seng kak noh aw”, was papa’s common phrase each time we visited the coffee shop when I was a kid. “Sarsi ci kuan, seng kak noh aw” means “one bottle of Sarsi and two glasses of ice” in Hokkein.
When I was a kid, I used to follow papa to town to pay the bills. I looked forward to those moments because a trip to town also meant that I would get to eat my favorite “Char Koay Teow” and “Sarsi”. “Char Koay Teow” was the only food and “Sarsi” was the only drink papa knew how to order or rather the only combination of meal which he enjoyed. We always shared the bottle of “Sarsi” because I could not finish the whole bottle by myself due to the soda in the drink. As I grew older, things changed, Papa had other interests and eventually those coffee shop outings with papa stopped.
Today was “Father’s Day”. We went out for lunch after mass just to celebrate “Father’s Day”. Suddenly, I had the urge to order “Sarsi” for papa. Interestingly, my sister poured half a bottle of “Sarsi” for papa and she conveniently gave me the other half telling me to finish it off because papa could not finish the whole bottle of “Sarsi” due to the soda. Yes, we had “sarsi ci kuan, seng kak noh aw” today, but the one who made the order was not papa, it was me. Times have changed.

Remembering Sydney

The Farm and Nambucca


My most expensive breakfast ever $ 13.90 and sydney city

Sydney Opera House and The Harbor Bridge
Bluemountains and Hunter valley


My favourite Hyde Park and the most popular Australian Native Plant



Talented Stree Performers

Beautiful Waters






In the city




Family

This gulab jamun, smelled and tasted like the gulab jamun I fell in love with twenty five years ago. For twenty years, I have searched for this familiar taste and had found no contentment in any of the gulab jamuns found in the market no matter how much I paid. Today, in Cleveland Street, in the midst of Surry Hills, I finally found my Gulab Jamun. It had the Punjabi touch. It tasted similar to the one our Punjabi neighbor used to give us during Deepavali until she passed on. Oh my, I savored every bit of it, carefully rationing every bite of it, leaving some for tomorrow and the day after tomorrow.
How does it taste? Indescribable! Sensationally wonderful to the tongue!
It took me twenty years to find a shop that sold such lovely and authentic gulab jamun, no shop in Malaysia had satisfied me this much, therefore if you don’t like the taste of gulab jamun, blame it on the shops, I had to throw away many gulab jamuns before this because it was filled with syrup and flour and was no where near to it’s original taste.

My papa

Papa retired from serving the government when I was only three years old. As a kid, I got to spend a lot of time with papa. Everywhere papa went, I tagged along. I was very much attached to him; he was actually my companion at home because mummy was too busy with the housework. Mummy was also fierce while papa was always easygoing so I usually opted to cling on to papa.

One of my daily routine with papa was to comb his hair. I loved it each time he finished his bath or woke up from his afternoon naps. Papa would sit at the edge of the bed in front of the mirror while I climbed on the bed to comb his hair, he was my doll. I took pride in decorating him. I took my own sweet time to play and comb his hair according to my choice of style and he would let me be (of course he would privately re-comb his hair if I did a bad job).

Years went by and I grew up. I stopped combing his hair. Yesterday afternoon, papa came out from his room. He looked frustrated. He had difficulty shaving. I looked at my aged papa. I wanted to be the little Jenny who used to comb his hair again but of course, my eighty year old papa did not have much hair on his head for me to comb anymore.

This morning, I offered to shave papa. He did not hesitate. I found his shaver, sat him down and shaved him. It was not easy actually, I tried my very best to be gentle, I did not want to cut him. After shaving him, I offered to trim his hair and he agreed. I gave papa a new look within half and hour. Once again, I took pride for the new look I gave my papa. He was satisfied, so was mummy. The satisfaction I had was pretty much similar to how I felt 20 ++ years ago, the only difference would be that little Jenny was no more that little and this time, I did not need papa to carry me down from the bed after I was done with his head.

(papa then when I was 3, papa and myself 2 days before his 80th Birthday)