Pulling the Wool Over Thy Eyes

Disclaimer: the demographic in question applies to a significant number of adolescents residing in big cities of Malaysia, like KL and Penang


I must have lapsed into temporary madness when I find myself agreeing and following the simplistic logic of some teenage acquaintances. Either that, or the synapses in my cerebral cortex appear to be modulating at a slower rate shortly after giving birth. Alas, it is easier to blame mental incapacitation than to own up that it was a classic case of 'cannot see the forest for the trees.' I indeed had failed to see the big picture.

What am I rambling about? Have I flummoxed you thus far?

The whole matter arose when it came to my knowledge that someone was heading out to college to pursue his or her studies (Alright, for all intents and purposes, I shall from thereon use the male pronoun to refer to said person). He later expressed his reservations and concerns having to room with some random strangers in one room. Used to having his own space and privacy in one bedroom, the change of living setting in a college must take some time getting adjusted to.

I gather that was what that bothered him most. I later discovered he had secretly wished for wealthy roommates to bunk with. I quickly jumped to the obvious conclusion that he'd find it easier to live with people that could treat him. In other words, take advantage of the person's fortune and connection.

While I was roiling against what looks like a low, materialistic tactic, I was quickly shot down by the person's friend who volunteered his (or her) logic to the situation. In a deadpan manner, he explained that his friend would prefer to room with rich colleagues than with poor ones since he's afraid the poor student will end up stealing his stuff, out of jealousy and envy!

I mulled over and considered this relatively coherent answer and finally assented to a semblance of truth that it holds. Truth be told, I felt something was still amiss despite caving in to the reason stated by a teenager.

I don't mind listening to a teenager's point of view since I firmly believe age is not a barometer of a person's intellect. Or maturity, for that matter. Moreover, this prodigious adolescent might have a point or two. Needless to say, I was again hasty in my judgment.

However, compelled by the gnawing feeling that his logic is flawed, I conferred with my husband who immediately put the matter in crystal clear perspective. "Why does the person thinks rich people are nicer than poor?" "For all we know, the person could learn a lesson in humility and unconditional kindness from a person of poor background?"

That's it! I was hoodwinked into believing that the poor will ALWAYS want to steal from the rich. This generalisation is sweeping and so far-reaching that I couldn't look past the stereotypes. I was ashamed of myself and chiefly, of my shallow thinking.

Yes, the person blessed with the wherewithal might have it all, but does he or she have a flourishing behaviour to match? The wealthy kid might turn out to be mean or use his affluent position to manipulate others to do his bidding.

The incident confirmed my suspicion that a glaring number of today's Malaysian teenagers places higher values on superficial and materalistic needs. It is a cause for alarm if you want to impede the continued and rapid moral decline of Malaysian teenagers. As reported in the youth online webzine The Cicak:

A poll initiated by the Malaysian AIDS Council (MAC) earlier last year involving 191 youths showed 66 percent of those between 16 and 21 disclosed they had friends who were engaging in casual sex. Yet only seven percent of this number admitted to having sex with their partners.

Yet, I have to admit the lack of proper sex education in school and general taboo of this subject matter also exarcerbate and fuel the rampant growth in teenage pregnancy cases.

The prevailing decadence both on the moral and ethical front does not augur well for our future generations, especially in terms of quality of life and overall sense of communal living.

As a fellow fledgling mother, I undeniably espouse the curative powers of and the holistic approach to parenting and its vital role in moulding a well-rounded, decent human-being. That, coupled with our constant prayers to God Almighty for the best for our children.

Quick Update: Hunt For the Perfect.....

Thanks to Moxyblue who recommended me this US-based site in her reply to my post at the Multiply site, I checked out the (near) perfect jeans for me based on my own set of specifications. The site helps you to find those rare denims by going through a series of multiple choice questions that narrows down your search after you answer their questions one by one.

In the end, I must say, I did got some noteworthy and capital choices at three different price range. And I learnt a thing or two about jeans terminology like 'gape' which defines the extra fabric jutting out at the haunches.

Here's a snapshot of my results:


Try it yourself! Since these are American-orientated, let's just hope the (brand) results are available in your corner of the globe!

One Country, Worlds Apart

“Ngah madah turun debah,” Zeti informed after catching her breath.

“Apa? (What)” I asked back, stumped.

She repeated and again I implored her to explain. In the end, I tried inquiring in English. She then muttered something under her 4-year-old breath. I gave up and decided to just ask my husband who was downstairs at the time.

My husband – the middle and hence ‘Ngah’ of the three siblings – was actually directing Zeti, my sister-in-law’s only daughter to call me down to discuss something.

That was the first time I came back to Kuching for a holiday after getting hitched for almost five months. Being married to a Sarawakian opens many different avenues in my ‘young’ life such as learning (practically) a new language, observing a whole separate set of customs, experiencing all sorts of cultural phenomena and indulging in a gamut of culinary adventures.

For those uninitiated few, Sarawak is a state in Malaysia located in Borneo, with Kalimantan to its south and eastside and Sabah (another Malaysian state) to its north-eastside. I’ve dwelled, for the most part of my lives, in Shah Alam and only after the turn of the new millennium my family moved to the newly established township, Kota Damansara. Both are in the state of Selangor and of easy distance to the capital, Kuala Lumpur.

The first time I heard Sarawakian (or to be exact Malay-Sarawakian) being spoken widely, distinctively and permeably, was at my wedding reception in Kuching. In those days, still a new bride, all I needed to do was smile and smile and smile! Oh, with the occasional nods and shaking hands with the elderly and other relatives, of course…

So when we came back for the first of our bi-annual visits to Kuching, I had to converse – at least, one complete sentence – and schmooze with the in-laws. My husband did give me a heads-up on a list of ‘everyday’ words but it was a totally different thing sitting there and absorbing all the foreign words that bombarded your eardrums. They sounded gibberish to my unaccustomed, novice ears.

An aside, how about the both of us then, you ask? Oddly enough when it comes to us, we, more often than not, speak to one another in English. It must be attributed to the fact that we knew each other whilst in the States – his awkwardness of using ‘Malaya’-Malay with me and out of practice, my preference to talk in English, were a match-made in earthly heaven! Some people spouting off nationalistic pride are more likely to brand us ‘Lupa daratan’ (Forgetting Roots) or ‘Mat Salleh Celop’ (White Clones) but I’d call it freedom of ‘speech’ and the ability to express oneself in the most succinct, clear-cut and liberating ways.

Still, I was adamant to understand and learn the Sarawak manner of confabulating, their linguistic skills, and most significantly, their fodder of gossips. Hah! Marriage is after all about communication, compromises, sacrifice, amongst others. By entering the state of matrimony, you not only have to adjust to your partner's habits and quirks, but also adapt to and respect his origin and source of upbringing.

Now, in my two long years of wedlock, I can safely say that I’ve gotten used to their conversations, predominantly with respect to word usage and sentence formations. I have dabbled in speaking a few Malay-Sarawak words, much to the amusement (and ridicule) of my husband.

The most striking feature of their language, in my observation, is the usage of old Malay words (bahasa Melayu lama) like ‘rona’ and ‘rebah’, which are no longer spoken by the so-called ‘Malaya’ people in daily conversations but only in the form of usually official writing (incidentally, Malaya is the term I always hear when a Sarawakian is married to a person from Peninsular Malaysia). In turn, my corollary finding also points to the similarity of some words to that of Indonesian like ‘gadong’ and ‘cangkir’.

Without further ado, here are some applicable daily words for your digestion (and memorization) (please click on list to enlarge!):


One helpful pointer that I’ve been informed is that any word ending with ‘–ing’ (pronounced as ‘Ink’) in Malay will be enunciated without the last ‘g’ in Sarawak. For example, pusing will be pusin, and pening will be penin.

An exception to the rule however reserves for one word – Kuching – the capital of Sarawak, where a museum dedicated solely to cats (or kucing) is one of the main tourist attractions. I find it ironic that a place called Kuching consists of a demographic that refers to their cats as something else altogether – pusak! Nor does the Kuching is shortened to ‘Kuchin’, as you assumed it would, to be consistent with the silent ‘G’ phonetic rule in the previous paragraph!

Sometimes though, I do wonder if Sarawak’s linguistic preserve is a reflection of its current state policy which still requires visitors from Peninsular Malaysia to show their identification upon arrival in the Hornbill state. And I had thought Malaysia – Peninsular Malaya, Sabah and Sarawak – was formed in 1963!


Humor and speculation aside, the usual perception of language barrier should never be a hindrance or an excuse for familiarizing and immersing in the various fascinating aspects of Sarawak-bound life. Culturally unique and steeped in tradition, the indigenes are proud of their rich heritage and more than willing to invite you into their humble domain and relate the colorful accounts of their ancestors. Indeed, my short two-year acquaintance with the state has never been short of surprises, wonderful findings and unforgettable discoveries.

Sadia's pixs at 11 months!

Tateh!
Yummy teether!
Static-hair-making chair!
Attempting those few small steps
Atta-girl!

11 months and counting...... ;-)

Selamat Jalan, Tita!

She came into my life in late 2005 by accident, when I had fancifully googled for hits on my name.

But I believe it was Providence that had led our paths to cross. What more with her being a student in Delft, the place that I was destined to go next.

Back then, our online exchanges revolved mostly on queries about the Netherlands' living condition, lifestyle and other life-saving trivias. And of course, on my previously impending pregnancy! She even gave me tips on different breathing techniques during contraction!

When we finally met in early October 2006, she is as nice in person as she was in her cyber correspondences. I was enthralled to be graced by her marvellous presence and infectious warmth. I do believe certain aspects of one's personality and expressions on cyberspace will reflect how one behaves and conducts oneself in real life. For instance, if you're witty in your writings, chances are high that your knack for repartees will as rib-tickling in person.

We met up occasionally thereafter, always inside my apartment when she came to Delft on Thursdays to wrap up her dissertation, see her professors and other pertinent matter PhD scholars do. :-)

On one occasion she arrived at our doorsteps with some winter clothes and baby blankets for Sadia that are more practical to wear here, than in Bandung where she's off to next. Her thoughtfulness blew me away.

So today, our paths intersected again albeit for the last time in the Netherlands. Tita and her family are bound for Indonesia this Thursday. They're taking the SIA's 1100 hours flight to Singapore enroute to Jakarta.

This late afternoon, Tita, my family and I traipsed to Leonidas Lunch & Tearoom, situated a little farther away from Delft's town square, to enjoy some desserts and coffees, and each other's company. Leonidas, famous for its Belgian chocolate, has the nicest Belgian-infused hot chocolates and brownies!

Today, we all had three different types of coffee with Tita choosing the most amusing of all coffee - 'Koffie Verkeerd' which literally translates as 'Wrong Coffee.' Tita explained that since coffee is normally taken black, to put warm, frothy milk in it, is considered wrong! We let out a hearty guffaw after adding some gratis chocolate-covered coffee beans to our concoction, thus rendering the coffee more 'sinful.' Our fill of merriment was however not appreciated by two smartly-dressed ladies - either in their late 40s or early 50s - sitting on the next table as one of them kept giving me the daggerlooks. Oh well, they're pompous windbags after all, what else do you expect from such lot?




My husband and I both relished our favourite brownies whilst Tita savored her cheesecake, generously drizzled with cherry sauce. Leonidas also took care of Sadia by offering her a boxful of Duplos and animal figurines to play with. That came in handy for only first five minutes or so following which Sadia threw some Duplos under the table and wanted to have a go at the miniature menu card holder. Anything forbidden is game!

After teatime ended, we walked back towards the direction of the train station from which Tita would board her train to Amsterdam. However, we gladfully enticed her to bring home some of the apple crumble we had baked earlier during the day. She was agreeable to the idea and took the opportunity to play with Sadia for a while. Interestingly, Sadia who usually warms up slowly to strangers takes an instance liking to Tita, every single time she drops by. Perhaps, sharing the same namesake has some 'charming' advantages!

Tita then proceeded to bundle up again to brave the elements. We said our final goodbyes at the same fateful elevator that entrapped Tita the very first time she came to see us (by the by, the stairs are offlimit anyway due to a long-awaited paint job). Sadia smiled and almost jumped out of my arms as she looked at Tita, through the lift's small opening, who was waving excitedly back to us. And when we pulled her away from the lift, she cried in protest. How sad! I placated her by putting her face back onto the opening but alas, Tita had already vanished from plain sight, pressing her way down to the ground floor.

Sadia became quiet, as if understood and acknowledged the natural occurrence of people coming and going from her lives. Poor Sadia! On a side note, I seriously need to find her some playtime buddies of her young age.....

And to DR Tita, thank you for all your help, generosity, kindness and considerate good-nature towards me and my family. Most importantly, I truly appreciate our budding friendship. It has been a great privilege knowing the affable you. Now with a doctorate added to your list of accomplishments, I wish you all the best settling down and making a fantastic life there in 'mild-weathered' Bandung.

Also, happy to know that the mug will contribute nicely to your mug collection. So, if you want to play tourists in Malaysia come October onwards, let me know in earnest!

A Stormy Affair with Kyrill

Our sojourn to Utrecht started mid-morning Wednesday as we headed towards the nearby train station. While crossing the roads to get to the train station, gusty winds swooped my husband's cap away. Luckily, a passerby who jaywalked further in front of us, retrieved the cap and graciously returned it back to him. We laughed when the cap flew away, in sheer disbelief of the wind's propensity. On hindsight, the event portends to a series of incidents which will be taking place in the following day.

The main purpose for this sidetrip to Utrecht is for my hubby to visit the company where one of his lecturers works, so that he'll be able to utilize the software tools, central to the development of his thesis. Another reason is to go sightseeing at a different part of The Netherlands. To unwind from the usual humdrum in Delft. However, my much-anticipated cobblestone saunter around the historical parts of Utrecht was dashed by the rainy condition that befell us as soon as we arrived in Utrecht. And the pandemonium that ensued after our arrival further dissuaded me from venturing outdoors.

First, there was a mix-up with respect to the check-in time. The website specified 1pm as the check-in time but this was negated by the receptionist who informed us the room would only be ready the earliest at 2pm and the latest 3pm! 3 o'clock is apparently the normal time for checking in.

Secondly, since my husband's appointment was scheduled at 2pm, we were at a loss of what to do. It's either he deferred the meeting to tomorrow morning or moved it later than 2pm. We decided the latter was the more prudent, logical option, considering how expensive the one-night stay.

To pass the time, we then proceeded to have lunch at La Place restaurant, of the V&D department store chain. The precipitation turned heavier as we trekked to the relatively nearby La Place, that by the time we went through its revolving doors, we looked harried and weatherbeaten.

Lulled by the ambient noise of mostly corporate lunchers, Sadia couldn't open her eyes anymore and dozed off immediately after we seated ourselves. The lunchroom's vegetarian quiche and cappucinos helped to distill our travel-weariness. This was possible despite the gnawing presence of a worker on a ladder painting one long side of the restaurant's walls, within mere meters from some patrons who seemed both oblivious and insouciant with the labor in progress. Couldn't he wait until the restaurant closes?!

By 2:15 we crossed the threshold into our hotelroom and my husband hurried thereafter to catch the bus route that would bring him to his lecturer's building (whose interiors he later told me look like the headquarters of MIB!). Hmmm, I wonder.....

Sadia was wide awake as soon as we attempted to put her on the bed that I spent the rest of the afternoon tending to Sadia. Giving her favourite foods, playing hide-and-seek and other games (like Sadia chasing me - we're both on all fours - around the room), and keeping her entertain with old and new gadgets (like the hotel phone which I disconnected from its line!).

At 5pm, the rain still hadn't let up. Both of us were getting restless and could be seen oft-times peering outside the huge glass window from our 6th floor which faced an office building of equal height. On all floors, people toiled away under the glare of oversized fluorescent lights. Down below the canvas rooftop that opens to the lobby area flapped away with such elemental force.

Oh yeah, I'd left out one highlight of this trip, which is Hoog Catharijne! One of the largest indoor (or 'covered') malls in Europe, HC has a total floor area of 250,000 sq.m and houses about 160 stores including V&D department store, cafes, bars, restaurants and a cineplex.



The Utrecht Centraal station, which is annexed to HC, provides great convenience and serves an immediate attraction to first-time visitors in Utrecht. Awed by its sheer size and the multitude of people whizzing through its complex, we momentarily lost our bearing when we first stepped onto its massive ground. This train station is by far, to my estimation, bigger than Amsterdam's and Den Haag's central stations.

Since my husband would not arrive back on time before HC's closing time - 6pm, I was geared up to explore the much touted shopping mall with Sadia. So by 5:30pm, with Sadia slung inside the baby carrier, I was already inside the Centraal Station enroute to HC which is situated at the far end of the indoor complex. Thankfully, the rain had subsided by the time I finally got ourselves ready and went out the lobby's automated revolving door.

I trolled a substantial part of HC's grounds for interesting buys or bargains that might match my budget. Sadia, who is getting taller by the day, needs a new set of long pants, or specifically another pair of jeans. After scouring one long corner of HC, I hiked to the other wing where V&D is located. Sadia became more quiet - a sign that she wanted to sleep - so I decided to nurse her on the children's section of V&D. My husband finally joined us in V&D's La Place Marketplace (mini food court like La Marche) for dinner, which was timely since V&D closes later, at 7pm.

Next day, the weather condition deteriorated considerably - three flags on top of aforementioned office building whirled haphazardly in the blustery wind and hapless pedestrians plowed through the tempestuous elements.

Our short, albeit wind-challenged walk to HC was carefully planned with the quickest route possible. After purchasing one pair each of pants and jeans for Sadia and lolling around at La Place cafe, we decided to call it a day and boarded the 1pm train. The station's main foyer was filled with travelers whose attention was intently focused on the large electronic board detailing all itinerary-related information. I wondered what contributed to the unusual swarm of people, but maybe what considered strange to me, is normal business for Utrecht Centraal. If only I had known then.....

The train moved along as scheduled but at a snail pace. My husband and I were exchanging funny looks when the P.A. system informed something in Dutch. The other passengers then started yammering in response. We just hoped it was nothing of dire consequence.

Yet, our journey home continued slow-paced amidst gusty winds and cold rain. Then, another voice came on and announced (again in Dutch), much to the passengers' anxiety where some quickly turned to the mobile phones to call or SMS. That's it - I had to know. Without preamble, I asked the elderly man sitting behind me and he told us that some faulty electrical lines - attributed to the windstorm - along the railroad route forced our train to maintain speed at the permissible limit. As such, our arrival to Den Haag would undoubtedly be delayed.

The 40-minute train ride was unavoidably stretched to slightly over an hour. However, that was not the worst part. We wanted to catch another train to Delft but failed to find any information pertaining to the platform on which we should wait. Nor was there the customer rep present at the travel information kiosk. We doubled back to Platform 1.

At one corner before entering Platform 1 (the usual one that serves Den Haag-Delft line), one train official was giving travel advice to a large group of disgruntled and worried travelers. Finally, we managed to locate a free NS officer who advised us to take the tram instead since no train service was available for our route!

With no other options left (unless we foot the bill for an expensive taxi fare), we lugged our carry-on luggage to the designated tram stop. And of course, the usually empty weekday tram to Delft was full to the brim with people that the three of us had to stand until we reached our stop. We also managed to pacify Sadia with her favourite cheese breadsticks, much to the displeasure of some snotty 'seated' passengers who saw her eating (you are not permitted to eat inside the tram but I've seen rowdy adults munching away that I gather giving snacks to babies are not only 'socially' beneficial but also 'peace-offering').

Heading home in south of Rotterdam proves to be cumbersome

We were about to cross the roads to the other side after getting off the tram when a sudden rush of 'industrial-strength' winds hit our path, causing us to almost tumble over to our left side! In fact, our carry-on fell sideways on the ground. Fortunately, my husband learnt his lesson and didn't don the cap! :)

Our attempted dash to the apartment proved to be a Herculean task since the gale pushed us forward with equal vigor and menace! Finally, we entered the warmth sanctuary of our home after a two gruelling hours of traveling time! We then opted to hide under the covers shortly after we ate some frites (the quickest snack to silent our growling stomachs). ;)

In Amsterdam, riding the bicycle is not an option - two photos taken from ANP-PHOTO.com

Apparently, the storm called Kyrill had wreaked havoc of gargantuan proportions across Central Europe and Great Britain. It caused the delays and cancellation of train services, flights and other means of public transport. Some fatalities were also reported including The Netherlands, which in turn prompted my mother to call and sms me several times the next day to ensure our safety.

On Friday, the gale-like effects had tapered off, thus enabling us to stock up on our groceries and other necessities. After three nights on a row of hailstorms - pounding violently on our skyroofs that at some point we're convinced it might bore a hole - this coming week will be bad in terms of climatic changes. Delft is expected to dip below zero celsius! Yikes! No more lazy walks along the canals for me. Hehe. Now I eagerly look forward to pleasant temperatures in February! * fingers crossed*

News Quickies

Some more news snippets before I'm off with the family for a short trip.




The first one revolves on Kate Middleton, the apple of Prince William's eye, who has been hounded by the paparazzi, not unlike Princess Diana who met her tragic death ten years ago, whilst on the run from these blood-thirsty parasites. Let's hope Kate (as she is known in the UK) rise above the scrimmage and remain undaunted by the constant limelight.

The second one examines the rationale behind women's hidden spending from their spouse or partner. Despite the advance of women's libs and women's earnings power, the stereotype that "women are supposed to be altruistic and put others first and aren’t supposed to lavish on themselves" still persists.

The third concerns the hilarious but effective method experimented by one woman to 'train' her so-called difficult husband. This hits close to home since I've been on the receiving end of one of these techniques - albeit a crude version - for some time now. Hah!

Last but not least, is the latest situation comedy on offering in Canada "Little Mosque on the Prairie" - a humorous take on Muslims living in a prairie town in Saskatchewan - as well as the prejudices attached to and, skewed (yet inane) generalisations imposed on their daily existence in today's post 9/11 world.

Have fun reading! See you when I get back!

Kate Middleton

Hidden Spending

Shamu Method

Muslim Sitcom

The Pacifist in The Family

Owh no! What is this? Sadia's using a pacifier? That can never be! I admit I sometimes give the dummy to her, just to test her reaction and in some rare occasions, to calm her down. Initially she was perplexed at the suction action of the soother but soon enough - given a short period of trial and error - she would suck on it, as if it was second nature to her. Any fears that this will become a permanent fixture on her face are groundless, since Sadia, being doubly genetically predisposed to S.A.S. (Short Attention Span), loses interest in the contraption after a few minutes - five minutes tops! :-D

True Love of Wesley and Buttercup

"As you wish," Wesley uttered obligingly whenever Buttercup bossed him around her farm.

Little that she knew, those words carried a deeper meaning, a clever play-on-words used by Wesley to declare his feelings - an allusion to 'I love you' - to his fair maiden.

Three simple words which at first sounded emphatic, gradually earned a lilting quality to them as Buttercup finally returned Wesley's affection.



Full of romance, adventure, fairy tale tropes and a great dose of comedy, 'The Princess Bride' is one of my favourite movies of all time. The movie by Rob Reiner, which came out in 1987 to lukewarm response at the box office, was based on a book of the same name by author, Wiliam Goldman. Published in 1973, the long title of the book is The Princess Bride: S. Morgenstern's classic take of True Love and High Adventure, owing to Goldman's claim that it was first written by Simon Morgenstern. In actuality, S. Morgenstern is both a pseudonym and a narrative device invented by Goldman to add another layer to The Princess Bride.

When the movie was later released on video, it became a cult classic due largely to word-of-mouth communication. In fact, Internet Movie Database (IMDb) rated it as the 8th most popular 80's movie and Bravo ranks it number 50 in its "100 Funniest Movies" list.

What I love about The Princess Bride is the refreshing mix of fun, action, love and wit that makes it an enjoyable view time and time again. The wonderful script - also written by William Goldman - adds to its allure and the phenomenal line-up of great actors enchants an audience from all walks of life.

Filmed entirely against the breathtaking backdrop of England and Ireland, the movie's perfect comedic timing blends well with priceless facial expressions, memorable lines and subdued romantic scenes. Thankfully, the dry humour overtones, coupled with a soothing soundtrack from Mark Knopfler (of Dire Straits), work to the movie's advantage, setting it apart from other over-the-top yet schlocky Hollywood fares of same genre. Another great film that employs a similar approach is Ever After, a unique take on the Cinderella story and an impressionable vehicle of Drew Barrymore.



The story unfolds with a Grandfather (Peter Falk) reading to his sick grandson (Fred Savage), one of his favourite books "The Princess Bride." After Wesley and Buttercup declared their love for one another, Wesley left Florin for America to make his fortune so that they could get married. However, Buttercup received words that his ship was attacked by Dread Pirate Roberts and based on Roberts' reputation of never leaving any captives alive, she assumed he was dead. Thoroughly heartbroken, Buttercup vowed never to love again.

A few years had passed and through some form of legal intervention, the lovelorn Buttercup begrudgingly accepted a hand in marriage by Prince Humperdinck, heir to the throne of Florin. Her betrothal to Prince Humperdinck only serves as means to an end in a plot by the Prince himself to kidnap and kill Buttercup!

To do his bidding, the Prince hired a trio led by Vizzini, the so-called genius of the group - to get rid of Buttercup and frame the neighboring country of Guilder for the murder. This would enable him to start a war and accumulate more land.

However, the plan went awry when a masked man defeated the trio, one by one, for he in turn also wanted to kidnap Buttercup. In the ensuing struggle to free herself from the masked man, Buttercup pushed him down a ravine and heard him shout "As you wish!" It's Wesley, she exclaimed with joy.

Thereafter, the two braved the three terrors of the 'Fire Swamp' in their bid to flee the country. Prince Humperdinck however managed to catch up with them and sentenced Wesley to his torturous death.

The rest of the story focuses on Wesley's unmistakable resolve - in his 'mostly dead state' - to save his mistress from her planned assasination with the help of some funny and whimsical characters. Like any predictable fairy tales, this movie has a happy ending. The story's impeccable plot and, convincing twists and turns have you rooting for the lovers. Back in college, I even naively wished that one day I'd find such a 'picture' perfect ending. As Wesley put it, "Death cannot stop true love; all it can do is delay it for a while".

Yet, for that particular moment, I was more than contented living vicariously through Buttercup and Wesley's Ruritanian romance. ;-)

The Princess Bride is a wondrous, timeless gift of a movie that must be disseminated to and enjoyed by the masses! Go and pick up a copy now. Else, rent one or wait for a movie re-run on your cable channel! ;-)

Addendum to The (Not So) Wonderful World of IM

1) Truth be told, I'm new to this realm one calls IM when I first tinkered with it, back in late October 2006. It's not so much because I'm a technophobe, it is due to the lack of fast access to internet. As such, any knowledge concerning proper IM conduct and decorum has yet to be ingrained into my psyche. So if anyone has a reference along the same line as 'IM for Dummies' please, by all means, let me in the know.
2) The reason I sign in and remain 'Available' on an IM (or YM) screen is solely for my friends (and family) to buzz me, chat, gossip and catch up on old times. It's not a conniving scheme to fish for weirdos or flashers.
3) That said, I'm as curious (or naive - have it your way) as the next person when someone - who appears relatively harmless - invites you to view his or her webcam. But after learning the hard way, no more free webcam viewing for me!!!
4) Technology such as IM enables us to bridge the gap between people, no matter how late the night, no matter where you are - sipping coffee in Starbucks (I'm craving for Starbucks now), in the middle of the dessert for field work - and no matter how trivial or frivolous the matter on hand.

How I love (user-friendly) technology! :)))

Kak Long, Che' Long

Besides celebrating the birthdays of Dave Matthews and AJ McLean (Backstreet Boys), January 9th marks the birthday of my eldest sister. As previously mentioned, she was born in the same year as me and my twin. My sister's cheerful disposition and air of nonchalance belie her age, not to mention, her slim figure.

Unlike my twin sister and younger sister, she and my brother follow my dad's side of the family - petite and small-framed. Growing up, Kak Long has always been the quiet and well-behaved (read: non-hyperactive) one of the siblings, staying at the sideline while my twin and I were up to our tricks, followed obediently by our younger sister. Hehe.

Kak Long chose not to tattletale on us when we oftentimes indulged in playtime horror (like letting a kid nextdoor cut our hair or mixing cheese slices with washing detergent in one of our 'cooking shows') but stood watchful and amused at the spectacle unfolding in front of her.

There was the time in secondary school when the three of us - 13-year-olds - joined 'Pengakap' (or Scouts) as part of the compulsory extra-curricular activities. Unbeknownst to us, she had a crush on one or two of the senior BOY scouts. Or when she was declared as an item with one boy, much senior than our age (hmmm, I can see a pattern here :) ). We only found out much later, after the fact. She's rather secretive when it comes to her personal lives, even back then, probably knowing quite well my parents' disapproval or that I would tell on her (which I won't ;) ). Or maybe both.

Kak Long's sprightly yet gentle approach with her peers and seniors, worked towards helping her to amass a great number of friends during high school. While I struggled with adolescent pangs, she strutted her no-holds-barred persona without a flinch and with a cinch. I was amazed by her confidence and genuine interest in the welfare of her fellow friends. Even when I sternly cautioned her to distance herself from some unsavoury characters in school who were walking all over her, she didn't seem to be bothered at all. It was infuriariting and beguiling at the same time. From what looks like a role reversal, I'd become the over-protective big sister.

In a sense, my eldest sister is still a mystery to me. An enigmatic one at that. She keeps her emotions bottled up and only when certain events transpired would we know the underlying motivations of her actions.

Her marriage at the age of 20 epitomizes the strongheaded yet reserved nature that is my sister. Deeply in love, she defied convention and resolved to tie the knot. The commotion of her early marriage almost impeded my short journey home from college to attend the wedding. She's the first one to be married and I was adamant to be a happy witness to this ceremony. After managing to schedule in a few days before finals, I made it to her blissful nuptials, sadly at the expense of scoring less than par in the exams. ;-)

Now, with five kids in tow, she still casts a youthful countenance and exudes an infectious warmth wherever she goes. Her determination to raise her kids right - tutoring them at home after school, sending them to tuition and the optional 'sekolah agama' (requisite Islamic-learning school), amongst others - pays off with well-mannered children and outstanding academic accomplishments. Also, when circumstances were not in her favour, she perseveres and always look at the bright side.

Looking back, Kak Long has always been there - waiting in the wings to offer a helping hand and to let me into her life - if only I pay close enough attention to the signs, gestures and nuances.

Kak Long is a contradiction in terms - she's a pillar of strength who, despite having to carry many burdens on her shoulders, still flashes her winsome smile and selflessly engages in her filial duties.

As we get older and become mothers ourselves, the importance of bonding with the family finally hit home, so to speak. We take more cognizant of our roles as mothers, daughters and sisters, and compare notes with one another on these disparate yet intertwined experiences.

Albeit two days late Kak Long, I would like to use this opportunity to express my gratitude for those advices, tips and pointers you'd gladly imparted on me. Hope you had a lovely day! Oh yeah, I will make sure Sadia call you Che' Long and not the old-sounding Mak Long, as you'd firmly requested. ;-)

The (Not So) Wonderful World of Instant Messaging (IM)

“Are you alone at home now?” the IM message popped up on our laptop screen in the living room. After inquiring whether my husband is of Dutch nationality, and then if he is now at home with me, he proceeded to ask this odd question. In a true Tita candid fashion, I shot back “Why do you want to know that? That’s strange.”

“Coz I’m alone too” he unabashedly declared.

Following that creepy statement, I lost interest in replying to the stranger.

Ever since I put my profile photo up on the Yahoo Messenger Profile page, random people have been IM-ing me. I can roughly say so far half of them are innocuous while the other half veer towards the offensive. Also, they are mostly Europe-based, save for one girl (I think it was female due to her expressive style of writing) from Nigeria. Also, I attribute the European-oriented messengers plausibly to my stating Delft as the de facto current location.

As an aside, the photo in question comprised my husband, Sadia and me, and in the profile section for marital status I emphatically wrote ‘Married.’

Once, a person introduced himself by asking rhetorically “Want to see an Irish man naked?” and another box came on screen as an invitation to view his webcam. At least it was rhetorical ONLY to me since he persisted on the subject. “C’mon, take a look.” Yikes!

Of course, when these kinds of funny messages popped out, my husband and I would engage in comebacks and repartees that meant to detract potential flashers. More often than not, however, they are quite insistent and would not budge from their filthy-minded posturing. When that happens, we usually log off.

Unfortunately, we fell prey to one obscene display after wrongly deducing the person’s character from his series of ‘normal-looking’ photographs on IM profile page! Bbbblleeeeccchh! Yes, you can optionally check another chatter’s profile if you are curious of his background or want to be on the ‘safe side.’ We clicked on ‘View Webcam’ to take a gander and were greeted instead by, euphemistically-speaking, some ‘organic material.’ On hindsight, the flasher did have a mischievous yet randy smile in all of his poses on the profile page. Lesson learnt – never ever accept an invitation to watch a stranger’s website!

What a nightmare! Right after exposing myself to such vulgarity, I quickly changed the photo on Yahoo Messenger profile to that of Sadia. That would ward off unpleasant people. Or so I thought.

Which brings me to the latest online incident last Sunday when an unknown man wanting to confirm my solitary domestic status. He informed that he is married but his wife was away at work at the time of IM-ing. He also revealed that he came upon my Profile page after I asked him how he knew I was married.

Probably he wanted to chat with other people, albeit strangers, when the missus was out of his sight. But why perfect strangers? Why not people that he knows in real life? Maybe he doesn’t have a lot of friends and/or is lonely. But why chose a married person to talk to? Granted, he might be chatting to different persons at the same time he chatted me up.

Naturally, my husband was around when this online correspondence took place. There was nothing to hide. I am not the sort of person to conceal matters of a prosaic nature.

Nor am I the kind of wife who will chat online with total strangers behind my husband’s back. Staying faithful is one thing but skulking into the lives of the opposite sex for attention or ‘an instantaneous outlet’ leans towards a perfidious act. At least that’s what written in my book on conjugal conduct. Maybe I'm just an old-fashioned sort but I believe an honest communication of what’s going down will save the trouble of headaches, mistrust or worst of all, heartaches.

I am both bamboozled and intrigued as to the reason(s) why people want to make contact with some stranger in online chatrooms, all the while knowing the necessary risks involved in such an enterprise. Before people misconstrue my stance as that of an anti-social, let me qualify that I am game for getting to know new people. The gamble a person willing to impose on herself when she said Hello on an IM screen – delving into the unknown – is an esoteric pursuit only few could fathom.

I take exception however to introducing yourself or commenting on other people’s blog. Blogs subsist on repeat visits and comments in order to promote your site to the WORLD (how that is entirely possible, I’ve yet to find out). Hence, the dichotomy between online chats and blogs exists owing to the manner in which people behave and operate whilst visiting a chatroom and maintaining a blogsite respectively. Unless you have a blogsite to give credence to your ‘cyber handle’ in online messaging, you have to take it on faith that the person whom you are chatting with is the real McCoy.

Having said that, I must also give people the benefit of the doubt and salute them for coming out to foreigners while IM-ing. Except for the blogging realm, I won’t be able to summon enough courage to do the same. In the case of the man who IMed me last Sunday, he might possess an inherent need to ‘connect’ with other people through the means of online chatting. Some people live and crave for that kind of connection. After all, isn’t it a part of our primordial urges – a mode of survival, if you may – to reach out to other human beings?

Raison d'etre for dying

Political aspirations, I have naught. But when Saddam was executed on the eve of Hari Raya Haji (Eid-Ul-Adha), my heart went out for the old man. Despite his slew of crimes against humanity, why on earth they - the ones (or as termed by a fellow journalist - 'kangaroo court') who put him on trial - chose such a day steeped in religious significance to hang him? Why the sudden rush? It perturbed me.

I was more disturbed by the very fact that his execution was broadcasted for the whole world to see. It was inhumane and borderline perverse. How about the jeers and taunts audibly recorded as the noose came over his neck? It's no way to treat a man, no matter how tyrannical he was in this lifetime. My sentiment was echoed by Malaysian's former Prime Minister, Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad whose outspoken views I greatly respect and cherish. He acrimoniously declared that Saddam's death by the gallows was barbaric and sadistic. Mahathir even implicated the US for expediting Saddam's hanging during the height of the sacred Haj period: "The broadcast served as a warning that people must either bow to the dictates of US President George W. Bush’s administration or face the consequences of a public lynching"

Such a bold statement indeed. However cantankerous and off base he can be at times, Mahathir's comment is, in my opinion, spot-on. Apparently from my reading off the internet, the US had allegedly wrested control over which crime Saddam was to be tried first in court. The reason for choosing the 1988's gassing of rebel Kurds in Dujail is owing to America's non-involvement in this particular episode, an exception to the rule for other long series of attacks assisted by America and/or its allies. The Dujail crime upon which Saddam's hanging was based is a mere ripple in a sea of extensive list of 'accomplishments' dating back to the 1960s. Gwynne Dyer contended this point in an Arab News article stating that:

It’s as if they had taken Adolf Hitler alive in 1945, but ignored his responsibility for starting World War II and his murder
of six million Jews and just put him on trial for executing people suspected of involvement in the July 1944 bomb plot.
With all of Saddam’s other crimes to choose from, why on earth would you hang him for executing the people suspected
of involvement in the Dujail plot?

As reported by Robert Fisk, the (in)famous Middle-East correspondent for UK-based newspaper The Independent, many of Saddam's secret liaisons with America are now silenced forever with the hasty execution of this aging, ruthless dictator. The unravelling of truths behind Saddam's fatidic ending comes at no surprise, more so when it has the US' marks all over them. I wonder how many more of these covert operations (US-led or otherwise) are taking place all over the world. Which nation(s) have a hand in the rise or fall - either surreptitiously or openly - of another nation? What kind of dirty, underhanded tactics were used? As the Iraq case clearly illustrates, the use of chemical weapons reach a nadir in the Iraq-Iran war during which thousands perish after coming into contact with these biological agents. Conveniently, any possible information of a US-funded assistance are repressed from public knowledge as evidenced by the clever diversion of the media attention to 'Saddam, The (so-called) Butcher of Baghdad.'

The sorry state of world politics today crushes any hope I once sought in politicians to uphold justice, save the weak, needy and poor, and restore peace in turbulent times. For me, those promises and pledges sworn by devious politicians sound like a broken record - in dire need of a thorough repair or worse, to be discarded completely.

Yet, my skepticism finds a glimmer of hope in the plebeians' ability to make a difference - by ferreting out and educating themselves with the unadulterated version of news, facts and most importantly, historical backgrounds. It is through history that we will find the answers, or at least give meanings, to some of life's events, crises, turmoils and reprisals. In turn, the ever-changing aspects of a historical event will fuel the passion to re-write history and fill the gaps waiting eagerly for closure. As a result, our knowledge of history will greatly serve as our checks and balances in formulating a view on world affairs. In his New York Times article, Arthur M. Schlesinger Jr implored to his countrymen:

We are the world’s dominant military power, and I believe a consciousness of history is a moral necessity for a nation
possessed of overweening power. History verifies John F. Kennedy’s proposition, stated in the first year of his thousand
days: “We must face the fact that the United States is neither omnipotent or omniscient — that we are only 6 percent of
the world’s population; that we cannot impose our will upon the other 94 percent of mankind; that we cannot right every
wrong or reverse each adversity; and therefore there cannot be an American solution to every world problem.”

I can't agree with him more. Until the US backs down from imposing its might on the turf of another country, or meddling in a country's affairs where it deems financially-beneficial, we must empower ourselves with historical facts and figures to clear up our domestic spats and block foreign encroachments respectively. Only then can we prevent a repeat of the tragic, regrettable episode by the gallows.

Bbbbburrrrrr!!!

As I am writing this now, cold air envelopes the whole apartment like a bad habit that won't go away. The computer settles apathetically on our rectangular dining table and behind it the sealed window still lets in a spine-tingling draft.

Camping on the living room earlier on, my family and I were bundled up in woolen sweaters, thermal suits, and the occasional wool throw. We even left the stove on to heat up a large pot of water so as to enable some warmth to circulate the room.

Oh what a memorable way to celebrate the first few days of 2007!

Around 7pm on New Year's Eve, we noticed that the running hot water in the bathroom had become somehow lukewarm. The same consensus went for the kitchen sink's. Nada hot water!

We next checked the heater, which in our apartment at least, consists of low-lying radiator with a large knob that facilitates as a temperature control. It was dead. No heat whatsoever - no crackling of hot water inside - rose up from the vents.

My husband went down to the ground floor for some laundry duty and reported back that the whole building seemed to be out of heater from the looks of it.

That New Year's night, amid the cacophony of fireworks and techno-party music, we slept in our sweaters, immensely hoping by tomorrow the heater would be up and running again.

But as luck would have it, no such thing happened. My husband rang up the company in charge to check what was wrong and to rectify the problem immediately.

As evening almost approached, noone arrived to fix the problem. Hubby re-rang the company and the person on the other line reiterated that the problem was already logged and someone was already on the way.

Around 8pm, someone did buzz the frontdoor and we let him in. We were relieved but our giddiness was shortlived. No warmth was restored that night and my husband proceeded to write an email the same night to the University's Housing for a complaint on the pressing matter.

Yesterday morning (already midnight now), hubby called again the Uni's Housing, explaining our situation, particularly with respect to the baby, which requires a warm temperature in order to sustain and roughhouse indoors.

The representative informed that the caretaker was already make known of the predicament and should be there at any moment's notice. On his way back from buying breakfast, my husband finally bumped into him bringing in some people to the boiler room to assess the problem. Also, we could hear some clanking in there when we went out the frontdoors for some grocery shopping in the afternoon.

When a change in temperature (and freezing water on 'hot' water tap still runneth over) failed to take place by late afternoon, we became anxious and more upset. This is outrageous! In light of this, my husband called again the Uni's Housing and the reply was that some parts which needed to be order, would only arrive in late afternoon and they should repair the damage tonight.

Around 7 or so, someone buzzed the door asking us to open for him (them) to remedy the problem in the boilerroom. At last! we thought. But it was too good to be true. Probably they just came in to put the parts and left thereafter.

We are now angry at the lackaidaisical attitude of the Uni's Housing (and by association those involved in and hired for repair) in bringing back the heater into our apartment. My hubby even sent another email, expressing his utmost disappointment for this inconceivable delay as well as for the lack of empathy on the Housing's side. Is it attributed to New Year's hangover which in turn transmutes into a sluggish turnaround and lag in response time?

I pray that we would get our heater and hot water up soon. If not, the Housing MUST proffer an alternative solution the least of which should involve portable heaters (plural since the spacious bedroom loft is quite cold at night) and the most is evacuating us to a nearby hotel as a temporary measure.

The present condition also reminds me of some other hapless people without proper heating in their homes or even the homeless on the streets. How do they survive on a day-to-day basis?

With them in mind, I am sincerely grateful to God for having this roof over my head, albeit colder than usual. In the interim, lots of wool sweater and socks and goosefeathered comforters will accompany me tonight.

Update: this morning upon waking up, the heater and hot water are back. Thank God! (I didn't manage to post this, as planned, in the wee hours of the morning since Sadia 'summoned me' for nursing duty and I drifted off to sleep.....)