The 19th century Meji Gvernment's annexation of Hokkaido and Ryukyu proved lasting. Unlike Penghu, Taiwan, Laiodong Penisunlar, Shakalin and Korea, these two territories remain firmly within the Japanese border despite the WW II's unconditional surrender.
Ryukyu Kingdom, once a small yet independent maritime nation, is now just Okinawa Prefecture. I had always been mystefied by this special island nation.
Her merchant ships had traded as far as Annam, Siam and Malacca. Her diplomats had successfully maneuvered between two empires paying tribute to both without irking either.
Her land saw the fiercest battle in the Pacific war theater with thousand of her civilians were herded to jump off the cliff seemingly for the dignity of her emperor who was but a foreign ruler just 70 years earlier.
Being a small nation sandwiched between two giants, they are destined to be swallowed by either one. I have this profound sympathy for her and her peoples.
My recent trip to Okinawa was predominantly a children-centric tour. We visited the Churaimi Ocean Expo and sampled the local diets that were commonly attributed as the reason of longetivity among the locals.
That gave me very little opportunities to have a deeper glimpse of Okinawa.
At the downtown fish market in Naha, a trader told me that the younger generation could probably understand bits of Ryukyuan language but could barely speak the tongue. They have largely been Japanized though are conscious of their difference from the mainland Yamato.
This is not surprising given that she had been annexed by Japan 130 years ago and first came under the Japanese Shogun's suzerainty 4 centuries earlier.
Further, genetically they are both Mongoloid and religiously there is no conflict. After such a long period of subjugation, it is actually surprising to see any surviving Ryukyu culture and language.
Another young and handsome trader at Okinawa World, a theme park built on top of a 900 meter underground cave with amazing columns of stalactites and stalagmites, selling dragon-fly souvenier told me that if at all any facial feature that distinguish them from the Yamato is their dark and thick eyebrow. I wondered how objectiev this could be?
It was also interesting that the same chap told me his name is 6 Chinese characters in length, 3 each made up his surname and first name, that is a wholesome 6 characters compared to the typical 4-5 characters in a Japanese name.
Another cultural relic that is prevailent all over the island is the shishi (read in Hokkien, you can perhaps figure out what it is). It is a Ryukyuan lion figurine that is commonly seen on top of the roof or stood in pair just outside the gate or the door. The function is to expel the evil spirits.
At the Shuri castle in Naha where the last Ryukyu Kings resided, we could still see plague gifted by the various Qing emperors as late as Tongzhi.
The modern Sino-Japanese conflict started with a Ryukyu ship wreckage off Taiwan in 1871 where scores of Ryukyuan subjects were killed by the Taiwanese aborigine. The Meiji smelt blood and claimed compensation against the Qing government. A small and unsuccessful expedition was launched in 1874.
It is unimaginable that the millions of dead that followed in the ensuing 70 years had direct link to this Pacific Island. A monument commenmorating the deads stood elegantly silent just below the principla Shinto temple in Naha. I was able to stand before the monument to reflect for a few minutes the historical significant of a marine mishap.
The island is slow-paced ( the speed limit on the highway is 80 km/ph and around 40-50 km/ph off the highway) and the peoples like the Japanese are courteous and well-mannered. English, suprizingly is not widely spoken despite a huge American military presence in the island taking up almost 20% of land mass in Okinawa island.
Okinawa is a beautiful island with sandy beaches and scenic coastal line. The seafood is abundant and there is a type of seaweed that taste like fish roe. It is called the green cavier. I don't remember the name but it is surely one of the dedicacy my younger boy and I remember.
The weather in December is mild with 15-20 celcius but it is the low season for tourist to this Japanese's Hawaii.
There are reasons to come back for this island that is riched in history.
Showing posts with label Travelogue. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Travelogue. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Oldest Chinese Temple in America (Mendocino 1854)
This is something I have learnt: "Anything is Possible".Last week I spent a magical week at a tiny coastal town in Northern California called Mendocino (pop. 1300).
I was there for the Core Value Mastermind retreat with Linda Chandler, an annual class for her mentorees from all over the world to learn, appreciate and reconnect with ourselves and with one another. In many ways it was an intensely enriching and meaningful experience.
Mendocino is a quintessential rural American town, sitting atop the craggy cliffs, inlets, rocks and the pounding waves on an achingly beautiful stretch of the Pacific Coast. Above, on the hills behind it, enormous Redwood trees stand majestically some of them as much as 2400 years old, amidst gentle rivers that gleam with jade-green water. The sun rises from behind the hills, so each day break I gasp at the views of the coast covered in golden spray from the pounding surfs while the hills are wrapped in golden ribbons of mist. The sights, sounds and the spiritual energies of its surrounding nature are beautiful beyond words. The towns are occupied by artists, artisans and all kinds of refugees from urban / material life. Almost everyone in this part of the world is white. Quite the last thing I would expect to find is a Chinese temple.
So imagine my delight when Low, a course mate from Singapore now living and working in Guangzhou, showed me a temple right in the middle of Mendocino. Moreover, it is in good repair, in use and the altar fittings and decorations are quite new. The temple was dedicated to Kuan Ti and a picture of him adorned the altar. I felt a good connection with it, not only because it was a nice surprise, but because for days that week I have been reflecting on the very same value that Kuan Ti (or Kuan Yu) symbolises: integrity, friendship and courage as they apply to my own life.
It was not open, though, both times when I visited last week, because the key is kept with a few town's people and the one Low know of was not in. According to the website (yes, it has one) the temple has been maintained by 4 generations of the "Hee" family.
A plaque outside the temple indicate that the temple was built in 1854 and is now in California's list of historical places. That means it was built only 5 years after the Gold Rush started in California and 2 years after Mendocino was settled. According to some, it is the oldest surviving Chinese temple in America.
Wow! all that right in this tiny little town of Mendocino. Life is full of wonderful discoveries.
[photo from online. Will post more when I receive them]Sunday, January 25, 2009
Africa - Ethiopia and Kenya
Now I can understand why the British loved Kenya so much. I am sitting here on a terrace at the hotel, overlooking lush green forested hills that surround Nairobi amidst the fertile red volcanic soils. The weather is 25 C +/- 3C almost all year round - heavenly in otherwords. The Kenyan hotel staff are impeccably trained, gentle and move about with a noble grace. The standard of living and modern conveniences ranges from comfortable (Kenny Hills comes to mind) to mostly relatively good ("Cheras level") down to "Jakarta level" in some of the slummier areas. The English language is spoken here with a certain accent-free polish. There is a large and well-organized Indian population as evident from the profusion of Indian temples. From the design and diversity of the Hindu, Sikh and Jain temples seen from the road, there seem to be more from Western and Northern India here than from the Tamil south. Like in Malaysia many of them seemed to have been drawn here by the twin drivers of the British Empire - the railway and the military. The Indians here seem to be more organized and belong to different social and educational class compared to Malaysia. For example, there are many Indian-linked colleges, academies and even a hospital run by Sikh-charities.
Kenya suffers from the usual flaws of developing countries in terms of society and government. It is shocking to think that a year ago racial conflict killed hundreds and forced the uprooting of hundreds of thousands. My colleague (a military doctor) told me that racial discrimination by the Kikuyus against the Luos are longstanding and wide-spread, forcing many Luos when they obtain their ICs to add a 'K' in front of their names which always begins with 'O' (like in Obama) otherwise they would never get into college. But from the sound of it, the coalition government that under a peace deal brought the opposition party (who apparently won last year's elections) into the Kikuyu dominated government pending an election, has been working hard to improve the infrastructure and responding to the people's needs, in part hoping to win votes in the next election. There seems to be a free press where expose of corruption scandals and criticism of the President were unapologetic in the mainstream papers. A special independent parliamentary tribunal is about to begin to investigate and press charges against perpetrators of last year's racial clash. So overall, I notice a bedrock of sensibility, professionalism, old British rule of law that is bolstered by the determination of a sizable educated middle-class to stay on the path of progress because they know they deserve better.
Outside the city, as I discovered yesterday, lie the some of the grandest and most majestic display of nature in the world. There the fields of golden shrubs and grassland stretch out for as far as the eyes could see, dotted only with scattered trees . From the vistas, one could see rocky hills in the distance, slopes of extinct volcanoes and riven by valleys that look like creases in the land. On those fabled savanna, thousands upon thousands of beasts roam in a display of life as old as life itself. Yes, I was reminded that we humans are only a detail and a recent on at that in the marvellous canvas of nature. Even at the Nairobi National Park which is literally a turn off the airport road on the city's southern fringe, I was amazed to see hundreds of wild zebras, hundreds of impalas and gazelles, tens of ostriches, dozens of giraffes, flamingos and - to my good fortune - a pride of lions 5 female and one male staking out a herd of wild buffalos.
Further out, the central highlands around Mt Kenya produces world reknown tea and coffee. Further on, the fabled Masai Mara National Park and its sister parks are world famous - and judging from the tour brochures, the last word in refined world class tourism. Each year in August, tens-of-millions of animals passes through the Masai Mara from the Serengeti on their annual migration; you can watched over from the lawns of century old British colonial estates, or a modern tented camps on top of a nearby rock, or from elaborate tree houses, or buzz over from a small plane, or glide silently in a hotair balloon. The logistics and training for Kenyan hospitality is so organized by the British Raj that even in the wild, five-star comfort and service follows you. West of Nairobi, the land falls away over a sharp cliff into the 50km wide Rift Valley before rising up again on the other side. In between are more glorious savannas interlaced by a string of lakes where the flamingos congregate in their millions. In the Eastern coast, there are lush jungles, beaches and coral reefs surrounding old fortified towns belonging to Omani merchant settlements. In the west and in the north, the 'real' Africa rose around Lake Victoria and where the Sahel semi-desert begins.
The north is where I began this trip in Ethiopia. Ethiopia is truly fascinating, an ancient kingdom with an uninterrupted history going back more than 3000 years. They have been many empires and many centres of power, but one at Axum is well-known as a rival first to Ramses pharoah of Egypt and later to Rome. This is also where a number of 2500 years old obelisks were looted by Mussolini in the 1930s, placed in Rome but which Italy has agreed to return them to Ethiopia. Rare for African nations, the Ethiopians have their own writing, Amharic which is of ancient origin; the alphabet looks like a cross between Greek and heiroglyphic symbols. They have their own calendar which is 8 years and 8 days different from the Gregorian version (they had their millenium year 2000 on January 8, 2008). That's not unusual because we know of Buddist or Muslim calendars, but what is more interesting is that they have their own time, which starts and ends at 6am on the 'normal' time rather than at midnight, probably to coincide with sunrise. All very exotic and impressive.
In a place in the north called Lalibela is world famous for stone churches the shape of a cross that are carved vertically into the rock, and become underground churches. Somewhere there is also an enclosure where the Ethiopians believe holds the Holy Grail; every so often one monk would be appointed to be entrusted with the secret of the grail and there he will live and guard the grail for the rest of his life. Ethiopia also lay claim to some majestic scenery being the lower extension of Wadi Rum in the Jordan Valley and the northern extension of the Rift Valley.
Unfortunately, I did not get the time to truly explore Addis Ababa or anywhere in Ethiopia for that matter. Work and meetings had taken up all my time. However, one aspect I could observe was the people. I was truly impressed by the dignity and confidence by which Ethiopian people carries themselves. By this I am refering to a sense of dignity that is internal rather than an externally directed arrogance or superiority complex. I believe this came from their pride in their culture. They are certainly economically weaker than even Kenya. Its level of development is akin to that of a county level city in China. Even though many of them live in poverty, the streets are clean and tidy. Even in poverty and material disadvantage the people tend to be courteous and honest in dealing with foreigners. They are some of the warmest, gentlest, curious and helpful people I have ever met. They glow with happiness and pride whenever anyone point to their unique culture - which is deeply rooted in their blend of ancient Christianity.
Ethnically, they are striking in their good looks. The Ethiopians are a Semetic people not negroid like most oif Africa although given the proximity there must be a great deal of mixed ethnicity. The skin tone tend to be brown the colour of coffee or mahogany not purely dark. The hair are wiry and fizzy but not in deep curls. The facial features are sharp and fine boned with large dark eyes beneath full eyelids, on top of high - but not sharp - nose bridges. Both men and women tend to be lithe and thin, but (unlike the Masai we encounter in Kenya who are 6 foot + giants) not too tall. Some women especially look like giraffes with their absurdly long limbs and small thin faces. Sometimes I wonder if they are a mix of Indian, European and African genes; because they seem to have the fine bones and slim bodies of Asians, the sharper facial features of Europeans, some elements of the dark(er) skin and hair of Africans. May be its true after all that this is the origin of mankind. Ethiopia lay claim to being the origin of humans from the archeological finding of "Lucy" the oldest homo sepien bone in the world, currently in the Addis Ababa museum.
Everywhere you go in Addis, you see multi-domed Eastern churches looking much like the St Mark's cathedral in Venice. People wears or carries with them elaborate crucifixes and icons, often made from wood or metal with the most intricate designs of weaving knots that reminded me of Celtic designs in Ireland.
Nonetheless, one source of pride in Ethiopia is religious harmony. Although it is one of the oldest Christian nation in the world it also boast one of the oldest Muslim community in the world. And the two has lived side-by-side largely in peace for longer than anywhere in the world. I suspect that has a lot to do with the powerful effect of the Ethiopian nation and culture which has been around far longer than either Chirstianity or Islam. When those religions arrived, it got absorbed into an established kingdom and culture. Hence, for the Ethiopians they were already had an identity before religion had the opportunity to create new group identities and divide the people.
Kenya suffers from the usual flaws of developing countries in terms of society and government. It is shocking to think that a year ago racial conflict killed hundreds and forced the uprooting of hundreds of thousands. My colleague (a military doctor) told me that racial discrimination by the Kikuyus against the Luos are longstanding and wide-spread, forcing many Luos when they obtain their ICs to add a 'K' in front of their names which always begins with 'O' (like in Obama) otherwise they would never get into college. But from the sound of it, the coalition government that under a peace deal brought the opposition party (who apparently won last year's elections) into the Kikuyu dominated government pending an election, has been working hard to improve the infrastructure and responding to the people's needs, in part hoping to win votes in the next election. There seems to be a free press where expose of corruption scandals and criticism of the President were unapologetic in the mainstream papers. A special independent parliamentary tribunal is about to begin to investigate and press charges against perpetrators of last year's racial clash. So overall, I notice a bedrock of sensibility, professionalism, old British rule of law that is bolstered by the determination of a sizable educated middle-class to stay on the path of progress because they know they deserve better.
Outside the city, as I discovered yesterday, lie the some of the grandest and most majestic display of nature in the world. There the fields of golden shrubs and grassland stretch out for as far as the eyes could see, dotted only with scattered trees . From the vistas, one could see rocky hills in the distance, slopes of extinct volcanoes and riven by valleys that look like creases in the land. On those fabled savanna, thousands upon thousands of beasts roam in a display of life as old as life itself. Yes, I was reminded that we humans are only a detail and a recent on at that in the marvellous canvas of nature. Even at the Nairobi National Park which is literally a turn off the airport road on the city's southern fringe, I was amazed to see hundreds of wild zebras, hundreds of impalas and gazelles, tens of ostriches, dozens of giraffes, flamingos and - to my good fortune - a pride of lions 5 female and one male staking out a herd of wild buffalos.
Further out, the central highlands around Mt Kenya produces world reknown tea and coffee. Further on, the fabled Masai Mara National Park and its sister parks are world famous - and judging from the tour brochures, the last word in refined world class tourism. Each year in August, tens-of-millions of animals passes through the Masai Mara from the Serengeti on their annual migration; you can watched over from the lawns of century old British colonial estates, or a modern tented camps on top of a nearby rock, or from elaborate tree houses, or buzz over from a small plane, or glide silently in a hotair balloon. The logistics and training for Kenyan hospitality is so organized by the British Raj that even in the wild, five-star comfort and service follows you. West of Nairobi, the land falls away over a sharp cliff into the 50km wide Rift Valley before rising up again on the other side. In between are more glorious savannas interlaced by a string of lakes where the flamingos congregate in their millions. In the Eastern coast, there are lush jungles, beaches and coral reefs surrounding old fortified towns belonging to Omani merchant settlements. In the west and in the north, the 'real' Africa rose around Lake Victoria and where the Sahel semi-desert begins.
The north is where I began this trip in Ethiopia. Ethiopia is truly fascinating, an ancient kingdom with an uninterrupted history going back more than 3000 years. They have been many empires and many centres of power, but one at Axum is well-known as a rival first to Ramses pharoah of Egypt and later to Rome. This is also where a number of 2500 years old obelisks were looted by Mussolini in the 1930s, placed in Rome but which Italy has agreed to return them to Ethiopia. Rare for African nations, the Ethiopians have their own writing, Amharic which is of ancient origin; the alphabet looks like a cross between Greek and heiroglyphic symbols. They have their own calendar which is 8 years and 8 days different from the Gregorian version (they had their millenium year 2000 on January 8, 2008). That's not unusual because we know of Buddist or Muslim calendars, but what is more interesting is that they have their own time, which starts and ends at 6am on the 'normal' time rather than at midnight, probably to coincide with sunrise. All very exotic and impressive.
In a place in the north called Lalibela is world famous for stone churches the shape of a cross that are carved vertically into the rock, and become underground churches. Somewhere there is also an enclosure where the Ethiopians believe holds the Holy Grail; every so often one monk would be appointed to be entrusted with the secret of the grail and there he will live and guard the grail for the rest of his life. Ethiopia also lay claim to some majestic scenery being the lower extension of Wadi Rum in the Jordan Valley and the northern extension of the Rift Valley.
Unfortunately, I did not get the time to truly explore Addis Ababa or anywhere in Ethiopia for that matter. Work and meetings had taken up all my time. However, one aspect I could observe was the people. I was truly impressed by the dignity and confidence by which Ethiopian people carries themselves. By this I am refering to a sense of dignity that is internal rather than an externally directed arrogance or superiority complex. I believe this came from their pride in their culture. They are certainly economically weaker than even Kenya. Its level of development is akin to that of a county level city in China. Even though many of them live in poverty, the streets are clean and tidy. Even in poverty and material disadvantage the people tend to be courteous and honest in dealing with foreigners. They are some of the warmest, gentlest, curious and helpful people I have ever met. They glow with happiness and pride whenever anyone point to their unique culture - which is deeply rooted in their blend of ancient Christianity.
Ethnically, they are striking in their good looks. The Ethiopians are a Semetic people not negroid like most oif Africa although given the proximity there must be a great deal of mixed ethnicity. The skin tone tend to be brown the colour of coffee or mahogany not purely dark. The hair are wiry and fizzy but not in deep curls. The facial features are sharp and fine boned with large dark eyes beneath full eyelids, on top of high - but not sharp - nose bridges. Both men and women tend to be lithe and thin, but (unlike the Masai we encounter in Kenya who are 6 foot + giants) not too tall. Some women especially look like giraffes with their absurdly long limbs and small thin faces. Sometimes I wonder if they are a mix of Indian, European and African genes; because they seem to have the fine bones and slim bodies of Asians, the sharper facial features of Europeans, some elements of the dark(er) skin and hair of Africans. May be its true after all that this is the origin of mankind. Ethiopia lay claim to being the origin of humans from the archeological finding of "Lucy" the oldest homo sepien bone in the world, currently in the Addis Ababa museum.
Everywhere you go in Addis, you see multi-domed Eastern churches looking much like the St Mark's cathedral in Venice. People wears or carries with them elaborate crucifixes and icons, often made from wood or metal with the most intricate designs of weaving knots that reminded me of Celtic designs in Ireland.
Nonetheless, one source of pride in Ethiopia is religious harmony. Although it is one of the oldest Christian nation in the world it also boast one of the oldest Muslim community in the world. And the two has lived side-by-side largely in peace for longer than anywhere in the world. I suspect that has a lot to do with the powerful effect of the Ethiopian nation and culture which has been around far longer than either Chirstianity or Islam. When those religions arrived, it got absorbed into an established kingdom and culture. Hence, for the Ethiopians they were already had an identity before religion had the opportunity to create new group identities and divide the people.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Ethiopia
A short post to say that I am on my way to Addis Ababa on official business between 14th January and 25th January 2009. Ethiopia is one of the great living civilizations extending - unbroken - more than 3000 years. For centuries it was the major rival to the Egyptians even before the Greeks and Romans appeared. It was major power in Biblical times and was heavily referenced by the Judeo-Christian traditions, particularly in reference to the story of King Solomon and Queen Sheba from Ethiopia. Ethiopia was also the one of the earliest Christian nations and still has its own branch of the Eastern Orthodox Church. Ethiopia has its own spoken and written language Amharic. So I am curious and looking forward to learning more of this place. Watch out for my postings from Addis Ababa.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Bali - A Travelogue
Bali Island, an island famed for her culture and nature, has mesmerized generation of travelers (as early as 1900s) with mystery and scenery.
I finally made the first visit not long ago with my wife and the elder son.
At Ubud Alila, we are housed at a villa built in the mid-air nestling on top of the Ayung river valley. The valley is deep enough to be blocked by the thick growth of plants and trees that the river is not visible from our balcony. We can only overhear the sound of river flowing without seeing it.
My son watches the squirrels climbing from trees to trees. As a spider was weaving its web, he sung the Incy Wincy Spider. Within the reach by a stretch of hand from the balcony, I introduced my son to a ripe jackfruit overhanging from the tree standing imposingly on the slope.
Moving inside the villa, a resident frog was seen hopping next to the bath tub encircled by a rectangular indoor pond with a short elevated pavement above it connecting the bedroom to the changing room. The pond is the home to some resident goldfishes.
At night it is the sound of insect accompanied by the starry night. When the sun rise, it is the turn of the roosters performing the orchestra of cock-a-doodle-doo in a foggy morning.
I grew up in a small town. All of these were free and not novel to me. Yet it is now a paid (from daddy's pocket) Discovery Channel goes live to the two and a half year old.
*************************************************
The terraced paddy field, the volcano (Mount Batur), the beaches have all made it to the postcard depicting an idyllic and peaceful destination to relieve us temporarily from our trapping in an ever-flatter world.
Here in Bali, the farmer are still slogging, as the buffalos are still ploughing, the paddy field. The scarecrow is sprouted everywhere to deter the suspicious bird. The Balinese ducks are quacking away in herd.
The Balinese folks dress in their ritual gear are always busy attending the temple ceremony. Colorfully decorated temples with the distinctively Balinese Meru (pagoda) made of palm leaves dotted the skyline.
The most awesome of all temples is the Pura Bersakih, the so-called Mother Temple of Bali. Stood above the temples complex, one could enjoy the panoramic view of a distant skyline, as far as the sea, highlighted by the solemn Balinese Meru.
One can sense the religious seriousness and ritual purity among the Balinese Hindu still make up more than 80% of population. The fruits and flowers are carefully and conically arranged into an offering basket. The women walking gracefully to the temple ceremony had the offering carried on on their heads. The men mostly dressed in white are biking their way carrying the older folks if not their younger one.
Time has not changed.
*************************************************
The beneficiary of a localized form of Hinduism in an archipelago that have largely converted to Islam, Bali always fascinate travelers like me who regards vacation not just as an escapade but also of learning.
It shocks and puzzles me when I read of the act of "puputan" by the Balinese rulers and subjects launching suicidal charges against the deadly fire of the merciless Dutch troop.
What left was a massacre.
It still shock and puzzles me when I read of the jumping off the cliff by the Balinese dress in their ritual plain white during the anti-Communist purge in 1965-66.
What left was a bloodbath.
Have these spirits rested? Maybe not and maybe never ever.
*************************************************
I just read of a traveler story on a spiritual tax that one holiday home builder has to pay to the village head to build a villa house in Bali. The plot of land is encumbered to the existing right of the spiritual residents. The construction of of infinity pool will have to be scrapped and relocate elsewhere for it might violate the spiritual occupants. This makes an interesting topic on land law.
At our friend's wedding at a palatial resort at Uluwatu hanging on top of a magnificent cliff with an awesome view of Indian ocean, a village elder dressed in the ritual white was introduced to me as the rain stopper. He had earlier prayed and made offering to keep the rain away from spoiling the wedding party.
Unscientific he maybe, there was no rain that evening.
******************************************
Traveling on the small roads criss-crossing the island, one cannot fail to notice the flags of political parties displayed from the villages to towns. There are always hung by a tall bamboo pole.
If the number of flags flown is the poll for the election next year, Bali favors the red flag of the PDI (of ex President Magawati) over the blue flag of DP (SBY, abbreviation of a mouthful of President Susilo Bambang Yodhoyono) and then the yellow flag of Golkar.
Being a tourist paradise for many Westeners and supposedly an infidel island, Islamic terrorists have unkindly planted two bombs in 2002 and 2005 that have taken several hundred lives and crippled the tourism industry.
Recovery in tourism takes as much as time as the memory takes to fade, according to my taxi driver, Chalik.
He is still haunted by the 2002 bombing incident. He was chartered by a Middle Eastern honeymoon couple on Oct .12, the day when the bomb went off in Kuta. The couple had wanted to go to the famous Kuta strip that night but he turned it down as he had had a long day chauffeuring them.
Being a Hindu, he thanked his lucky star for surviving unscratched. Predictably he chose to stay home and didn't go to work on the recent Oct 12.
******************************************
Staying three nights at Oberoi in the comfort of modern trapping and connectivity, I had the privy to the CNN news which was denied to me at Ubud.
Where is the escape after all, you may ask?
As the CNN brings more breaking news, I contrast that with the story from the epics of Mahabharata and Ramayana and wonder what have we changed in the millenniums in between that have passed?
Isn't the same obsession for power, for control?
Isn't the same innermost inclination for peace, and for love?
I finally made the first visit not long ago with my wife and the elder son.
At Ubud Alila, we are housed at a villa built in the mid-air nestling on top of the Ayung river valley. The valley is deep enough to be blocked by the thick growth of plants and trees that the river is not visible from our balcony. We can only overhear the sound of river flowing without seeing it.
My son watches the squirrels climbing from trees to trees. As a spider was weaving its web, he sung the Incy Wincy Spider. Within the reach by a stretch of hand from the balcony, I introduced my son to a ripe jackfruit overhanging from the tree standing imposingly on the slope.
Moving inside the villa, a resident frog was seen hopping next to the bath tub encircled by a rectangular indoor pond with a short elevated pavement above it connecting the bedroom to the changing room. The pond is the home to some resident goldfishes.
At night it is the sound of insect accompanied by the starry night. When the sun rise, it is the turn of the roosters performing the orchestra of cock-a-doodle-doo in a foggy morning.
I grew up in a small town. All of these were free and not novel to me. Yet it is now a paid (from daddy's pocket) Discovery Channel goes live to the two and a half year old.
*************************************************
The terraced paddy field, the volcano (Mount Batur), the beaches have all made it to the postcard depicting an idyllic and peaceful destination to relieve us temporarily from our trapping in an ever-flatter world.
Here in Bali, the farmer are still slogging, as the buffalos are still ploughing, the paddy field. The scarecrow is sprouted everywhere to deter the suspicious bird. The Balinese ducks are quacking away in herd.
The Balinese folks dress in their ritual gear are always busy attending the temple ceremony. Colorfully decorated temples with the distinctively Balinese Meru (pagoda) made of palm leaves dotted the skyline.
The most awesome of all temples is the Pura Bersakih, the so-called Mother Temple of Bali. Stood above the temples complex, one could enjoy the panoramic view of a distant skyline, as far as the sea, highlighted by the solemn Balinese Meru.
One can sense the religious seriousness and ritual purity among the Balinese Hindu still make up more than 80% of population. The fruits and flowers are carefully and conically arranged into an offering basket. The women walking gracefully to the temple ceremony had the offering carried on on their heads. The men mostly dressed in white are biking their way carrying the older folks if not their younger one.
Time has not changed.
*************************************************
The beneficiary of a localized form of Hinduism in an archipelago that have largely converted to Islam, Bali always fascinate travelers like me who regards vacation not just as an escapade but also of learning.
It shocks and puzzles me when I read of the act of "puputan" by the Balinese rulers and subjects launching suicidal charges against the deadly fire of the merciless Dutch troop.
What left was a massacre.
It still shock and puzzles me when I read of the jumping off the cliff by the Balinese dress in their ritual plain white during the anti-Communist purge in 1965-66.
What left was a bloodbath.
Have these spirits rested? Maybe not and maybe never ever.
*************************************************
I just read of a traveler story on a spiritual tax that one holiday home builder has to pay to the village head to build a villa house in Bali. The plot of land is encumbered to the existing right of the spiritual residents. The construction of of infinity pool will have to be scrapped and relocate elsewhere for it might violate the spiritual occupants. This makes an interesting topic on land law.
At our friend's wedding at a palatial resort at Uluwatu hanging on top of a magnificent cliff with an awesome view of Indian ocean, a village elder dressed in the ritual white was introduced to me as the rain stopper. He had earlier prayed and made offering to keep the rain away from spoiling the wedding party.
Unscientific he maybe, there was no rain that evening.
******************************************
Traveling on the small roads criss-crossing the island, one cannot fail to notice the flags of political parties displayed from the villages to towns. There are always hung by a tall bamboo pole.
If the number of flags flown is the poll for the election next year, Bali favors the red flag of the PDI (of ex President Magawati) over the blue flag of DP (SBY, abbreviation of a mouthful of President Susilo Bambang Yodhoyono) and then the yellow flag of Golkar.
Being a tourist paradise for many Westeners and supposedly an infidel island, Islamic terrorists have unkindly planted two bombs in 2002 and 2005 that have taken several hundred lives and crippled the tourism industry.
Recovery in tourism takes as much as time as the memory takes to fade, according to my taxi driver, Chalik.
He is still haunted by the 2002 bombing incident. He was chartered by a Middle Eastern honeymoon couple on Oct .12, the day when the bomb went off in Kuta. The couple had wanted to go to the famous Kuta strip that night but he turned it down as he had had a long day chauffeuring them.
Being a Hindu, he thanked his lucky star for surviving unscratched. Predictably he chose to stay home and didn't go to work on the recent Oct 12.
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Staying three nights at Oberoi in the comfort of modern trapping and connectivity, I had the privy to the CNN news which was denied to me at Ubud.
Where is the escape after all, you may ask?
As the CNN brings more breaking news, I contrast that with the story from the epics of Mahabharata and Ramayana and wonder what have we changed in the millenniums in between that have passed?
Isn't the same obsession for power, for control?
Isn't the same innermost inclination for peace, and for love?
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
2 pints of beer in Mohamad Sultan
6-8 pm July 22, 2008
Singapore, a country that I admire and a country that I somewhat don't understand as much as I would like. I have been here many times and yet I don't feel I know her well enough.
I decided to take a stroll and the 20 minutes walk from the hotel to Mohamad Sultan was so pleasant without a single drop of sweat. I enjoyed the walk because I find space and the greenery here which I don't when I am in Hong Kong. I enjoyed watching the colonial era architecture which are so much better conserved than in Hong Kong.
These are among the reasons for my fondness of Singapore. Still, I frequently ask myself which place is more livable and which place has a brighter future. To this, I still haven't had an answer.
I found myself alone sitting on a bar in one of the pub along Mohamad Sultan. It was my curiosity of the architecture and the facade that led me walking into the pub along this once famous party street. Inside the pub, beside the steel rails for bar top dancing, there is a steel beam structure to reinforce this 90 years old building. Hang on the wall are old photos of Strait Chinese family and potrait. That remind me of my own maternal great grandmothers who were of baba nyonya descent.
I was surprized that there was no one for the happy hour and in between that one hour or so before two regulars walking in to order a jug of beer, I had a conversation with the lady boss. She is savvy and well travelled.
I drank my pint of draft beer and I listened to the story of her business and from there, the Singapore governance.
She recounted the prime days of her business when patrons lined up to get in for partying. The business was so good that they had to turn away customer lest they irk the enforcement officers.
The closing time was strictly enforced and so was the crowd control. Enforcement officers would be present 5 minutes before closing time to make sure all lights were switched off. Inexplicably, the enforcement officers would often be present to issue summon for bar top dancing when the party went wild (following government standard) or the patron numbers had exceeded what was permitted. The fine would sweep away the profit of the night and they ended up doing a night of national service.
Bar top dancing was barred for years and the moment the government legalised it, the government began to collect bar top dancing licencing fee. Was it the extra money for the openness?
Then came 911. Her business dropped the next day after the government removed the parking lots along the street. This has to do with the fear of car bombing as Mohamad Sultan was frequented by expatriate.
From then onwards, it is downward spiral. Without street parking lots, happy hours crowd turn elsewhere to down their beer. The subsequent extension of closing hours remain short in regaining Mohamad Sultan's good old day. (I must disclose I had my small share of good time at Mohamad Sultan before 911).
Despite the poorer crowd, the bussines carried on thank to the loyal and sometimes nostagic patrons like me but in larger part the thanks goes to the lower rent (3$ psf compared to 20$ psf in boat quay).
One nice thing I heard was that her business had never paid any protection fee to triad society even though there were attempts asking it. This is a strong sign of the rule of law, isn't it?
In between, I asked her if she was aware of LKY's slip under oath in a suit against an opposition figure. She said no. This is the second no I receive. The first one came from the taxi driver who fetched me from the airport. I am not too sure if the news was censored or prudently not reported in the local press.
So much the impression I have for Singapore press freedom. Yet, I left the pub for dinner still without having the frequent questions answered.
Singapore, a country that I admire and a country that I somewhat don't understand as much as I would like. I have been here many times and yet I don't feel I know her well enough.
I decided to take a stroll and the 20 minutes walk from the hotel to Mohamad Sultan was so pleasant without a single drop of sweat. I enjoyed the walk because I find space and the greenery here which I don't when I am in Hong Kong. I enjoyed watching the colonial era architecture which are so much better conserved than in Hong Kong.
These are among the reasons for my fondness of Singapore. Still, I frequently ask myself which place is more livable and which place has a brighter future. To this, I still haven't had an answer.
I found myself alone sitting on a bar in one of the pub along Mohamad Sultan. It was my curiosity of the architecture and the facade that led me walking into the pub along this once famous party street. Inside the pub, beside the steel rails for bar top dancing, there is a steel beam structure to reinforce this 90 years old building. Hang on the wall are old photos of Strait Chinese family and potrait. That remind me of my own maternal great grandmothers who were of baba nyonya descent.
I was surprized that there was no one for the happy hour and in between that one hour or so before two regulars walking in to order a jug of beer, I had a conversation with the lady boss. She is savvy and well travelled.
I drank my pint of draft beer and I listened to the story of her business and from there, the Singapore governance.
She recounted the prime days of her business when patrons lined up to get in for partying. The business was so good that they had to turn away customer lest they irk the enforcement officers.
The closing time was strictly enforced and so was the crowd control. Enforcement officers would be present 5 minutes before closing time to make sure all lights were switched off. Inexplicably, the enforcement officers would often be present to issue summon for bar top dancing when the party went wild (following government standard) or the patron numbers had exceeded what was permitted. The fine would sweep away the profit of the night and they ended up doing a night of national service.
Bar top dancing was barred for years and the moment the government legalised it, the government began to collect bar top dancing licencing fee. Was it the extra money for the openness?
Then came 911. Her business dropped the next day after the government removed the parking lots along the street. This has to do with the fear of car bombing as Mohamad Sultan was frequented by expatriate.
From then onwards, it is downward spiral. Without street parking lots, happy hours crowd turn elsewhere to down their beer. The subsequent extension of closing hours remain short in regaining Mohamad Sultan's good old day. (I must disclose I had my small share of good time at Mohamad Sultan before 911).
Despite the poorer crowd, the bussines carried on thank to the loyal and sometimes nostagic patrons like me but in larger part the thanks goes to the lower rent (3$ psf compared to 20$ psf in boat quay).
One nice thing I heard was that her business had never paid any protection fee to triad society even though there were attempts asking it. This is a strong sign of the rule of law, isn't it?
In between, I asked her if she was aware of LKY's slip under oath in a suit against an opposition figure. She said no. This is the second no I receive. The first one came from the taxi driver who fetched me from the airport. I am not too sure if the news was censored or prudently not reported in the local press.
So much the impression I have for Singapore press freedom. Yet, I left the pub for dinner still without having the frequent questions answered.
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