More pictures for your enjoyment at the following link:
http://picasaweb.google.com/rachelknutson.knutson8/PuluaUbanInSeptemberBikeRidingAndKusuIsland#
These include our recent trip to Kusu or Turtle Island and September's bike riding adventure on Pulau Uban.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Turtle Island
Sea glass is found on beaches along oceans or large lakes. It is one of the very few cases of a valuable item being created from the actions of the environment on man-made litter. At one point it was whole. Maybe it was a family’s only plate during the Great Depression, a famous novelist’s ink bottle, a beer bottle broken in a bar fight, or a lover’s long lost message in a bottle. But at some point, somehow, it was forgotten, lost, broken, tumbled, tossed, smashed, forced to cover large distances by the water’s immense power. Yet, somehow it emerges from its toils smoothed by the water and the sand, frosted, colorful, beautiful, a perfect metaphor for human suffering.
I’m quite fond of sea glass. Its metaphor is incredibly empowering. But I don’t just like it for its metaphor, or for its beauty, I like it because it is a little reminder of the powerful connections between people all over the world. Someone, somewhere created this product, and then someone, somewhere used it for an unknown amount of time, and maybe someone else, somewhere else used it too, maybe a number of someones used it, and then it was lost, and broken, and forgotten. But the ocean took it upon itself to transform it into something maybe more beautiful than before. And someone else, somewhere else finds this little piece of glass and, without even thinking about where it came from, places it in his or her pocket to use for an unknown reason. But, regardless of whether or not this “finder of the sea glass” realizes it, the fact remains, he or she is indeed connected to at least one other, if not several other, people through this small gesture of collecting the pretty little piece of glass on the beach.
Stephanie and I looked for sea glass yesterday at Kusu Island. We found many shells and pieces of coral. No sea glass though. It is rare. More and more so now. Maybe that is for the best. Beautiful things aren’t necessarily given to us. Maybe we should have to search for the color in toil, the beauty that arises from suffering, those human connections, the sea glass.
Stephanie and I spent part of our afternoon on Kusu Island, wandering aimlessly along the beach in search the elusive glass, admiring the skyline of Singapore in the distance, and squishing the sand between our toes. But the aimless, beach wandering wasn’t even the best part of the day (I know, you’re thinking “how could this get any better?!” but it does).
Kusu Island is a small island about 5 kilometers off the coast of Singapore. Small, as in you can stand on one end and see the other end. The legend goes that a Malay sailor and a Chinese sailor were shipwrecked and drowning off the coast of Singapore. A giant turtle witnessed their distress and turned himself into an island to save them from death. To offer thanks, the two sailors each built a temple on the island. Every year devotees make a pilgrimage to Kusu in the 9th lunar month (mid-October to mid-November) to pray for wealth, prosperity, fulfillment of destiny, children, health and all things related to good luck in general. The first thing you do when you arrive on the island is aim a coin at three bells encased in a lotus flower sculpture. If your coin makes the bell ring, your wish will come true.
After dutifully making our first wish, Stephanie and I followed the incense that was floating on the breeze toward the little Chinese Temple where worshipers where offering prayers and thanksgivings in front of ornate, colorful little alters. They placed fruit, oil and small trinkets on a large alter in front of the temple and bought stacks of paper to be burned in large fires in order to increase the chance their prayers would be answered. Family after family stepped up to the small alters, one by one, offering up their prayers and waving incense until it was dancing, thick in the air.
Stephanie and I continued along the winding path toward the Malay temple, occasionally stopping to admire the little turtles, strategically placed, no doubt, throughout the island so tourist would not feel disappointed when visiting “turtle” island. And now this is the best part.
We climbed 152 steps along a path lined with trees all covered in gold and red fabric to the top of a little hill where a hot yellow shack stood, the worshipers’ songs and shouts of praise threatening to topple its walls. This little Malay temple looked more like a busy marketplace than a house of worship. Devotees carried incense and money pausing to offer praise and a donation to each of the three alters: the father, the mother, and the daughter. The father, mother and daughter promise to then carry the prayers onto God. Young Malay men offer to tie little yellow wishing strings to your wrists. The older Malay men provide loud and confident blessings to each person in a never ending line of worshipers, and everyone is laughing and yelling to each other, while three middle-aged men kneel, seemingly undisturbed by all the chaos, in front of the daughter’s shrine singing the most hauntingly beautiful song of praise I’ve ever heard. It is a parallel universe, and Stephanie and I stick out like sore thumbs, all doe-eyed in awe and confusion about where to stand and what to do.
Then a young Malay man approaches us and offers to give us a brief tour, obviously not fooled by our miserable attempt to blend in. He explains that the worshipers all make a pilgrimage once a year to the same shrine to pray to the father, mother, and daughter who will then take their prayers on to God Himself. He stresses that God is the most important factor in this little telephone game, but the father, mother and daughter are good messengers. Some worshipers are here to pray for babies he says. “Do we want babies?” Stephanie and I nearly die laughing at this point as we explain that that is not what we would like to pray for today. “What else can we pray for instead?” Well, others pray for nice boyfriend, or husband, or good luck, good health and prosperity. We like these better.
He also explains that worshipers offer donations for the upkeep of the shrines and bring other gifts like the little bananas sitting on the alter in front of us. Our impromptu tour guide then proceeds to take two bananas from the alter and insists that we eat them, which feels a little odd to me considering they are someone’s offering to the gods, but I oblige non-the-less (I haven’t had lunch). He then gives each of us a sweet smelling flower to stick behind our ears. The mother likes these flowers, he explains.
Finally, he leads us over to one of the men giving out all the blessings, tells him what we’d like to pray for, and ties a little yellow string around each of our wrists. The man asks the mother to give me good health, a good man, good life, wealth, and whatever else may be in my heart at the moment. He says something I don’t understand, waves the incense around, clasps my hands together, and rubs some sweet smelling perfume on my shoulders, neck and wrists. Then he shouts, with great enthusiasm, something else I don’t understand and gives me a toothy grin before moving on to pray with the next devotee in line behind me.
Stephanie and I walked slowly away from the temple, a bit shocked still by the beauty, chaos, and pure joy of it all. You’d be crazy if you didn’t feel God in that place. He was sitting there laughing, right next to the old Malay man while he shouted blessings, occasionally shooting bits of spit through his teeth at my face. We followed the lead of the other worshipers, and tied our little yellow strings to tree branches on the way down the steps. I don’t mind leaving my prayers with the father, mother and daughter there. They’re in good hands.
As we silently climbed down the stairs leading away from the shack of a temple, each lost in our own meditative thoughts, I couldn’t help but notice all the prayers written on the railings. Most of the prayers were in Malay or Chinese, but an occasional few were written in English. Many people had prayed for good health and happiness. One person had asked for his dad “to become very rich.” Several others had written their lottery ticket numbers. My favorite, though, was the student who wished “to pass his exams and become very clever.” Maybe it’s the teacher in me.
The rest of last week was spent decorating our house (as you can tell from the previously posted picture montage) in preparation for the “You, A Plate, and Your Favorite State” party we hosted on Saturday evening. Though hot without air conditioning, the pot luck was an immense success and we all enjoyed food ranging from nachos and guacamole to Yorkshire apple crisp to crab pasta bake to cornbread. I prepared grunt (yes the dish is called grunt), a dish with European roots that is most often served on the northeast coast of the U.S. It is basically blueberry fruit compote with cinnamon dumplings, very similar to a cobbler but prepared on the stove top. It is called grunt, because of the sound the dumplings supposedly make when dropped into the fruit compote. Unfortunately, though we listened attentively, we didn’t hear the dumplings grunt.
Today is a rainy Monday, and after a three-hour-long lesson planning meeting this afternoon, I definitely have a case of the Monday blues. Off to the gym and then to Starbucks. Endorphins and caffeine should do the trick.
TIA,
Rachel
I’m quite fond of sea glass. Its metaphor is incredibly empowering. But I don’t just like it for its metaphor, or for its beauty, I like it because it is a little reminder of the powerful connections between people all over the world. Someone, somewhere created this product, and then someone, somewhere used it for an unknown amount of time, and maybe someone else, somewhere else used it too, maybe a number of someones used it, and then it was lost, and broken, and forgotten. But the ocean took it upon itself to transform it into something maybe more beautiful than before. And someone else, somewhere else finds this little piece of glass and, without even thinking about where it came from, places it in his or her pocket to use for an unknown reason. But, regardless of whether or not this “finder of the sea glass” realizes it, the fact remains, he or she is indeed connected to at least one other, if not several other, people through this small gesture of collecting the pretty little piece of glass on the beach.
Stephanie and I looked for sea glass yesterday at Kusu Island. We found many shells and pieces of coral. No sea glass though. It is rare. More and more so now. Maybe that is for the best. Beautiful things aren’t necessarily given to us. Maybe we should have to search for the color in toil, the beauty that arises from suffering, those human connections, the sea glass.
Stephanie and I spent part of our afternoon on Kusu Island, wandering aimlessly along the beach in search the elusive glass, admiring the skyline of Singapore in the distance, and squishing the sand between our toes. But the aimless, beach wandering wasn’t even the best part of the day (I know, you’re thinking “how could this get any better?!” but it does).
Kusu Island is a small island about 5 kilometers off the coast of Singapore. Small, as in you can stand on one end and see the other end. The legend goes that a Malay sailor and a Chinese sailor were shipwrecked and drowning off the coast of Singapore. A giant turtle witnessed their distress and turned himself into an island to save them from death. To offer thanks, the two sailors each built a temple on the island. Every year devotees make a pilgrimage to Kusu in the 9th lunar month (mid-October to mid-November) to pray for wealth, prosperity, fulfillment of destiny, children, health and all things related to good luck in general. The first thing you do when you arrive on the island is aim a coin at three bells encased in a lotus flower sculpture. If your coin makes the bell ring, your wish will come true.
After dutifully making our first wish, Stephanie and I followed the incense that was floating on the breeze toward the little Chinese Temple where worshipers where offering prayers and thanksgivings in front of ornate, colorful little alters. They placed fruit, oil and small trinkets on a large alter in front of the temple and bought stacks of paper to be burned in large fires in order to increase the chance their prayers would be answered. Family after family stepped up to the small alters, one by one, offering up their prayers and waving incense until it was dancing, thick in the air.
Stephanie and I continued along the winding path toward the Malay temple, occasionally stopping to admire the little turtles, strategically placed, no doubt, throughout the island so tourist would not feel disappointed when visiting “turtle” island. And now this is the best part.
We climbed 152 steps along a path lined with trees all covered in gold and red fabric to the top of a little hill where a hot yellow shack stood, the worshipers’ songs and shouts of praise threatening to topple its walls. This little Malay temple looked more like a busy marketplace than a house of worship. Devotees carried incense and money pausing to offer praise and a donation to each of the three alters: the father, the mother, and the daughter. The father, mother and daughter promise to then carry the prayers onto God. Young Malay men offer to tie little yellow wishing strings to your wrists. The older Malay men provide loud and confident blessings to each person in a never ending line of worshipers, and everyone is laughing and yelling to each other, while three middle-aged men kneel, seemingly undisturbed by all the chaos, in front of the daughter’s shrine singing the most hauntingly beautiful song of praise I’ve ever heard. It is a parallel universe, and Stephanie and I stick out like sore thumbs, all doe-eyed in awe and confusion about where to stand and what to do.
Then a young Malay man approaches us and offers to give us a brief tour, obviously not fooled by our miserable attempt to blend in. He explains that the worshipers all make a pilgrimage once a year to the same shrine to pray to the father, mother, and daughter who will then take their prayers on to God Himself. He stresses that God is the most important factor in this little telephone game, but the father, mother and daughter are good messengers. Some worshipers are here to pray for babies he says. “Do we want babies?” Stephanie and I nearly die laughing at this point as we explain that that is not what we would like to pray for today. “What else can we pray for instead?” Well, others pray for nice boyfriend, or husband, or good luck, good health and prosperity. We like these better.
He also explains that worshipers offer donations for the upkeep of the shrines and bring other gifts like the little bananas sitting on the alter in front of us. Our impromptu tour guide then proceeds to take two bananas from the alter and insists that we eat them, which feels a little odd to me considering they are someone’s offering to the gods, but I oblige non-the-less (I haven’t had lunch). He then gives each of us a sweet smelling flower to stick behind our ears. The mother likes these flowers, he explains.
Finally, he leads us over to one of the men giving out all the blessings, tells him what we’d like to pray for, and ties a little yellow string around each of our wrists. The man asks the mother to give me good health, a good man, good life, wealth, and whatever else may be in my heart at the moment. He says something I don’t understand, waves the incense around, clasps my hands together, and rubs some sweet smelling perfume on my shoulders, neck and wrists. Then he shouts, with great enthusiasm, something else I don’t understand and gives me a toothy grin before moving on to pray with the next devotee in line behind me.
Stephanie and I walked slowly away from the temple, a bit shocked still by the beauty, chaos, and pure joy of it all. You’d be crazy if you didn’t feel God in that place. He was sitting there laughing, right next to the old Malay man while he shouted blessings, occasionally shooting bits of spit through his teeth at my face. We followed the lead of the other worshipers, and tied our little yellow strings to tree branches on the way down the steps. I don’t mind leaving my prayers with the father, mother and daughter there. They’re in good hands.
As we silently climbed down the stairs leading away from the shack of a temple, each lost in our own meditative thoughts, I couldn’t help but notice all the prayers written on the railings. Most of the prayers were in Malay or Chinese, but an occasional few were written in English. Many people had prayed for good health and happiness. One person had asked for his dad “to become very rich.” Several others had written their lottery ticket numbers. My favorite, though, was the student who wished “to pass his exams and become very clever.” Maybe it’s the teacher in me.
The rest of last week was spent decorating our house (as you can tell from the previously posted picture montage) in preparation for the “You, A Plate, and Your Favorite State” party we hosted on Saturday evening. Though hot without air conditioning, the pot luck was an immense success and we all enjoyed food ranging from nachos and guacamole to Yorkshire apple crisp to crab pasta bake to cornbread. I prepared grunt (yes the dish is called grunt), a dish with European roots that is most often served on the northeast coast of the U.S. It is basically blueberry fruit compote with cinnamon dumplings, very similar to a cobbler but prepared on the stove top. It is called grunt, because of the sound the dumplings supposedly make when dropped into the fruit compote. Unfortunately, though we listened attentively, we didn’t hear the dumplings grunt.
Today is a rainy Monday, and after a three-hour-long lesson planning meeting this afternoon, I definitely have a case of the Monday blues. Off to the gym and then to Starbucks. Endorphins and caffeine should do the trick.
TIA,
Rachel
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Photo Montage of Halloween and House Warming
Click on the following link for Halloween Merlion pictures and "You, A Plate, and Your Favorite State" party pictures among others: http://picasaweb.google.com/rachelknutson.knutson8/OctoberFunAndNovemberHouseWarming#
Click on the slideshow button at the top left of the screen to see the pictures in slideshow mode and larger. If you run your cursor over the bottom of the screen during the slide show, you can slow down or speed up the pictures to read the captions. Enjoy!
Click on the slideshow button at the top left of the screen to see the pictures in slideshow mode and larger. If you run your cursor over the bottom of the screen during the slide show, you can slow down or speed up the pictures to read the captions. Enjoy!
Monday, November 2, 2009
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...
…And speaking of Christmas in July…Santa Clause and his reindeer have officially thrown-up all over Orchard Road.
It is only the beginning of November and there are snowflake banners strung every two meters along the entire strip of the famous shopping street. Snowmen sit on top of every lamp post, smiling, probably out of pure shock that they aren’t melting. Every store front is decorated in various shades of red, green, and white with wreaths, ornaments, and garland hung in such a perfect and precise way it is as if the elves themselves flew in from the North Pole specifically for the job. Giant Christmas trees stand proudly, showing off the elves’ handy work. There is even a “ginger bread” village, and every Starbucks is only too willingly advertising the Christmas flavors: toffee nut, peppermint, and chocolate covered cherry. A massive, fat Santa Clause and his bearded reindeer sit smack dab in the middle of the main junction watching over it all, directing everyone to “smile and look like Christmas.”
All this, and the lights aren’t even up yet. . Christmas has definitely been Disneylandified as it merrily exploded in Singapore. Yesterday, one of my co-workers mentioned that Singapore’s “Christmas” tends to be even more commercialized than that of the U.S. (if that’s possible), because very few people here celebrate it has a religious or family holiday.
None-the-less, it is nice to have found yet another little piece of home here. I mean, here I am in Asia, sitting on the equator, in the 90 degree heat, far away from the snow and warm feelings of winter and the holidays that come with it, but Christmas found me anyway.
This past weekend, though, it was not visions of sugar plums but rather ghosts and ghouls dancing in my head as I celebrated Halloween. Saturday evening Stephanie and I spent a solid two hours pinning, wrapping, and tying ourselves into silky green material and brown netting and meticulously painting whiskers on our faces. What may seem like an odd combination at first, becomes perfectly logical when you realize that we went as, drum roll please, Merlions.
The Merlion was designed as an emblem for the Singapore Tourism Board in 1964. It is a creature that has a lion’s head and a fish’s/mermaid’s body. The lion head symbolises the legend of the re-discovery of Singapore. In ancient times, Singapore was known as Temasek, a Javanese word for sea. In the 11th century, Prince Sang Nila Utama rediscovered the island. When the Prince first landed on Singapore's shores, he sighted a mystical beast which he later learned was a lion. The Prince then decided to re-name the island "Singapura" which in Sanskrit means Lion (Singa) City (Pura). The fish tail of the Merlion symbolises the ancient city of Temasek and represents Singapore's humble beginnings as a fishing village.
So dressed in true Singaporean style, Stephanie and I joined our friends, The Monopoly Man, the Hamburgler, Where’s Waldo, Lady Gaga, the fortune cookie and others, for an evening of treats, conversation, and, later, some dancing at the nightclub Zouk.
Adding the evening’s dance party to the mix, I certainly had enough exercise on Saturday. The day began with my two hour dance class and was quickly followed by an outdoor spinning class (Yes, I fully admit that it is crazy to take a class that already makes one sweat profusely and add 95 degree weather to it. But before you write me off as insane, wait to see why I did it). Stephanie and I joined a crowd of bubble gum pink in the middle of a plaza on Orchard Road for Spin for Life, a fundraising event for the Singapore Breast Cancer Foundation. What a wonderful experience, doing something good for yourself while doing something good for others.
After the activity-intense Saturday, I decided Sunday would be a true day of rest. Jenny, Jacob and I spent the afternoon at a double feature of “Love Happens” and “My Sister’s Keeper” in the movie theatre. After picking up some groceries, Stephanie and I enjoyed an evening of live jazz music while sipping on a cocktail in a quaint little club with the loud, and busy hustle of Boat Quay bellow seemingly worlds away.
Monday was an uneventful day at school, spent working on a “general knowledge” PowerPoint presentation for next week, and accompanying six students to the U.S. embassy where they were picking up their passports for an upcoming trip to Chicago and D.C. The bus ride was spent answering questions like, “What does snow feel like?”; “Will we be able to make snow butterflies or angels or whatever?”; “So is it really going to be that cold?” (The last question to which I laughed and answered, “Yes!” to these 16-year-olds who have never been to anyplace outside of Southeast Asia.).
Stephanie and I had a truly enjoyable afternoon and evening shopping for DIY art supplies on Orchard Road and old picture frames and a comfy couch at the Salvation Army. The evening was spent painting, gluing, cutting and basically playing artists while, in true artist style, sipping red wine and philosophizing about life. This week we are finally putting the finishing touches on the walls in our apartment as we plan to host a “You, A Plate, and Your Favorite State” party this weekend. Just in case you want to make a weekend trip to Singapore, the invitation for the party reads as follows:
It is only the beginning of November and there are snowflake banners strung every two meters along the entire strip of the famous shopping street. Snowmen sit on top of every lamp post, smiling, probably out of pure shock that they aren’t melting. Every store front is decorated in various shades of red, green, and white with wreaths, ornaments, and garland hung in such a perfect and precise way it is as if the elves themselves flew in from the North Pole specifically for the job. Giant Christmas trees stand proudly, showing off the elves’ handy work. There is even a “ginger bread” village, and every Starbucks is only too willingly advertising the Christmas flavors: toffee nut, peppermint, and chocolate covered cherry. A massive, fat Santa Clause and his bearded reindeer sit smack dab in the middle of the main junction watching over it all, directing everyone to “smile and look like Christmas.”
All this, and the lights aren’t even up yet. . Christmas has definitely been Disneylandified as it merrily exploded in Singapore. Yesterday, one of my co-workers mentioned that Singapore’s “Christmas” tends to be even more commercialized than that of the U.S. (if that’s possible), because very few people here celebrate it has a religious or family holiday.
None-the-less, it is nice to have found yet another little piece of home here. I mean, here I am in Asia, sitting on the equator, in the 90 degree heat, far away from the snow and warm feelings of winter and the holidays that come with it, but Christmas found me anyway.
This past weekend, though, it was not visions of sugar plums but rather ghosts and ghouls dancing in my head as I celebrated Halloween. Saturday evening Stephanie and I spent a solid two hours pinning, wrapping, and tying ourselves into silky green material and brown netting and meticulously painting whiskers on our faces. What may seem like an odd combination at first, becomes perfectly logical when you realize that we went as, drum roll please, Merlions.
The Merlion was designed as an emblem for the Singapore Tourism Board in 1964. It is a creature that has a lion’s head and a fish’s/mermaid’s body. The lion head symbolises the legend of the re-discovery of Singapore. In ancient times, Singapore was known as Temasek, a Javanese word for sea. In the 11th century, Prince Sang Nila Utama rediscovered the island. When the Prince first landed on Singapore's shores, he sighted a mystical beast which he later learned was a lion. The Prince then decided to re-name the island "Singapura" which in Sanskrit means Lion (Singa) City (Pura). The fish tail of the Merlion symbolises the ancient city of Temasek and represents Singapore's humble beginnings as a fishing village.
So dressed in true Singaporean style, Stephanie and I joined our friends, The Monopoly Man, the Hamburgler, Where’s Waldo, Lady Gaga, the fortune cookie and others, for an evening of treats, conversation, and, later, some dancing at the nightclub Zouk.
Adding the evening’s dance party to the mix, I certainly had enough exercise on Saturday. The day began with my two hour dance class and was quickly followed by an outdoor spinning class (Yes, I fully admit that it is crazy to take a class that already makes one sweat profusely and add 95 degree weather to it. But before you write me off as insane, wait to see why I did it). Stephanie and I joined a crowd of bubble gum pink in the middle of a plaza on Orchard Road for Spin for Life, a fundraising event for the Singapore Breast Cancer Foundation. What a wonderful experience, doing something good for yourself while doing something good for others.
After the activity-intense Saturday, I decided Sunday would be a true day of rest. Jenny, Jacob and I spent the afternoon at a double feature of “Love Happens” and “My Sister’s Keeper” in the movie theatre. After picking up some groceries, Stephanie and I enjoyed an evening of live jazz music while sipping on a cocktail in a quaint little club with the loud, and busy hustle of Boat Quay bellow seemingly worlds away.
Monday was an uneventful day at school, spent working on a “general knowledge” PowerPoint presentation for next week, and accompanying six students to the U.S. embassy where they were picking up their passports for an upcoming trip to Chicago and D.C. The bus ride was spent answering questions like, “What does snow feel like?”; “Will we be able to make snow butterflies or angels or whatever?”; “So is it really going to be that cold?” (The last question to which I laughed and answered, “Yes!” to these 16-year-olds who have never been to anyplace outside of Southeast Asia.).
Stephanie and I had a truly enjoyable afternoon and evening shopping for DIY art supplies on Orchard Road and old picture frames and a comfy couch at the Salvation Army. The evening was spent painting, gluing, cutting and basically playing artists while, in true artist style, sipping red wine and philosophizing about life. This week we are finally putting the finishing touches on the walls in our apartment as we plan to host a “You, A Plate, and Your Favorite State” party this weekend. Just in case you want to make a weekend trip to Singapore, the invitation for the party reads as follows:
You, A Plate, And Your Favorite "State"!!!!!!!!!!
Stephanie and Rachel would like to cordially invite you to their first (but definitely not only) dinner party/potluck of the year this Saturday at their apartment at SP.
Now, for the explanation: "You" is obvious, but for those of you who need a little help here, it means we want YOU to come to the party. "A Plate" is the dish you bring to share at the potluck. And, drum roll please, "Your Favorite State" is the theme of the party, and thus should be the theme of your dish and, if you're so inclined, your outfit.
We would like everyone to bring a dish to pass that is somehow related to his/her home state, and for our non-U.S. friends, home country. For example, if you are from Texas, you might dress like a cowpoke and bring BBQ pork or crocodile or whatever they eat there.
Stephanie and Rachel will be providing exciting dishes, and most probably wearing exciting outfits, from the great states of California and South Dakota respectively. We can't wait to see what you come up with!
Please also BYOB, and maybe some extra plates and silverware to share! See you Saturday!
As for the rest of the week, I have curriculum and department meetings at school, and on Wednesday and Thursday I am giving a dance combination at the auditions for next year’s school musical. Steph and I have trips to Arab Street for fabric for curtains and to Mustafa Center for coasters and a few other kitchen supplies planned for the evenings. Tonight: waiting for the couch to be delivered, yoga, and more painting.
Happy November already and TIA,
Rachel
Happy November already and TIA,
Rachel
Friday, October 30, 2009
Halloween in Singapore? Like Christmas in July: weird but a guaranteed blast!
I’m reading this book right now called “Everything Bad Is Good For You.” Unfortunately, it says nothing about a recent scientific discovery that a diet consisting primarily of chocolate cake, gin and tonics, and ice cream can actually contribute to weight loss and lower your risk of developing cancer, but it does raise some rather interesting points about popular culture, especially video games and television, and how, contrary to popular belief, it is actually making us smarter.
In one particular passage the author, Steve Johnson, refers to John Dewey’s idea that “Perhaps the greatest of all pedagogical fallacies is the notion that a person learns only that particular thing he is studying at the time. Collateral learning in the way of formation of enduring attitudes, of likes and dislikes, may be and often is much more important than the spelling lesson or lesson in geography or history that is learned. For these attitudes are fundamentally what count in the future.”
It is with Dewey in mind that I taught 80 (yes, 80), 14-year-olds (yes, self-conscious/awkward 14-year-olds) a lesson on the American cultural tradition of Halloween and subsequently introduced them to some pretty sweet moves from Thriller at school on Wednesday. It isn’t exactly that I wanted them to memorize the history of Halloween, nor that I expected them to develop the dancing skills of Michael Jackson himself, but I do hope they left with a greater appreciation and understanding of the Halloween holiday and the ability to understand the talent required to “walk like a Zombie.” At least they had fun, which I was able to judge by the cheers from the “audience” as the selected 20 students performed the dance at the end of the workshop (included in the group: three boys who actually volunteered to play the part of Jackson himself…hip thrusts, spins and all). It was one of the more rewarding days I’ve had at school. I’m really looking forward to further daily interaction with the students next term.
As for the rest of the week, it was post-exam activity week this week at school. This means the students have finished their exams for the term and came back to school this week to celebrate with various learning journeys or field trips and workshops (hence the Michael Jackson dance party). In addition to a tribute to the King of Pop himself, I also accompanied the students to Singapore Repertory Theatre’s production of “Lord of the Flies”, helped to monitor a spelling bee, played some general knowledge games, and went to the end of the year awards ceremony/play/dance performance.
The performing arts have been a predominant aspect of my week, as on Monday evening I attending “A Ballet Gala Evening with Paloma Herrera” at the Esplanade. The famous American Ballet Theatre dancer shared the stage with two dancers of the Tokyo Ballet, two from the Staatsballett Berlin, a principal dancer from the New York City Ballet, two dancers from the San Francisco Ballet, and (my favorite part) Sascha Radetsky of American Ballet Theatre and also the star of the movie “Center Stage.”
It was a truly magical evening, as going to the ballet always is for me; finding myself caught up in the whirl of the movement but unblinkingly still, holding my breath while at the same time pacing my breathing with the dancers themselves, feeling every emotion so acutely yet feeling nothing at all. I’m always exhausted after a ballet performance, as if I’ve actually been the one on stage performing Sleeping Beauty Act III Pas de Duex, the White Swan Pas de Deux, or Raymonda Act III Solo, though I’ve done nothing at all. Mentally, physically, emotionally it captivates me. Nothing is comparable. I would try to describe it like this: It’s like one of those rare, intense, amazing workouts at the gym when you catch a runner’s high and just can’t stop. The endorphins come in such large, powerful quantities that before it’s even over you’re already planning the next time, because you know the feeling will inevitably end and you just can’t wait until it happens again.
Thus, it is still in this exhausted state that I find myself Tuesday evening, eating hummus, couscous, and falafel on the floor in an Arab street restaurant with most of the other PiAers, Leslie, and, PiA’s director, Anastasia, who happened to drop-in for a visit. Despite being tired, and maybe because the beer tower (yes, it is as sweet as it sounds) was constantly being refilled, I truly enjoyed catching up with everyone, learning about some of the “first week horror stories” that are still happening in the sixth week, and also, happily reliving some of the amazing memories we’ve already made. I mean, there isn’t really a better way to spend time when you’re tired than sprawled out on pillows colored in rich maroon and gold, sharing food, stories, advice, and the bottomless beer tower with your friends who are practically family in Singapore.
The rest of the week flew by in a sort-of whirlwind of post-exam activities, grocery shopping, planning a future trip to Cambodia, and, of course, preparing the all-important Halloween costume for the weekend. For now, Stephanie and I have a brilliant, but secret, idea that will be revealed in full tomorrow at our Halloween party and subsequently in pictures on this blog. Hint: It is the symbol of Singapore and hilarious.
Besides the Halloween extravaganza that will certainly ensue tomorrow evening, the weekend plans include a co-workers birthday party tonight, which I am really looking forward to as I am always thrilled for the opportunity to get to know my co-workers outside of the cubical-and-business-pants setting in which I typically interact with them. Also on the agenda: Saturday morning dance class, a Spinning event for the Breast Cancer Foundation in the afternoon, a costume party/club-filled evening, and a double-feature movie day with Jenny on Sunday (showing: “My Sister’s Keeper” and “Love Happens”).
Off to slather on a face mask and bask in the warm, glowing happiness of Friday afternoon.
TIA, Cheers and Happy Halloween!
Rachel
In one particular passage the author, Steve Johnson, refers to John Dewey’s idea that “Perhaps the greatest of all pedagogical fallacies is the notion that a person learns only that particular thing he is studying at the time. Collateral learning in the way of formation of enduring attitudes, of likes and dislikes, may be and often is much more important than the spelling lesson or lesson in geography or history that is learned. For these attitudes are fundamentally what count in the future.”
It is with Dewey in mind that I taught 80 (yes, 80), 14-year-olds (yes, self-conscious/awkward 14-year-olds) a lesson on the American cultural tradition of Halloween and subsequently introduced them to some pretty sweet moves from Thriller at school on Wednesday. It isn’t exactly that I wanted them to memorize the history of Halloween, nor that I expected them to develop the dancing skills of Michael Jackson himself, but I do hope they left with a greater appreciation and understanding of the Halloween holiday and the ability to understand the talent required to “walk like a Zombie.” At least they had fun, which I was able to judge by the cheers from the “audience” as the selected 20 students performed the dance at the end of the workshop (included in the group: three boys who actually volunteered to play the part of Jackson himself…hip thrusts, spins and all). It was one of the more rewarding days I’ve had at school. I’m really looking forward to further daily interaction with the students next term.
As for the rest of the week, it was post-exam activity week this week at school. This means the students have finished their exams for the term and came back to school this week to celebrate with various learning journeys or field trips and workshops (hence the Michael Jackson dance party). In addition to a tribute to the King of Pop himself, I also accompanied the students to Singapore Repertory Theatre’s production of “Lord of the Flies”, helped to monitor a spelling bee, played some general knowledge games, and went to the end of the year awards ceremony/play/dance performance.
The performing arts have been a predominant aspect of my week, as on Monday evening I attending “A Ballet Gala Evening with Paloma Herrera” at the Esplanade. The famous American Ballet Theatre dancer shared the stage with two dancers of the Tokyo Ballet, two from the Staatsballett Berlin, a principal dancer from the New York City Ballet, two dancers from the San Francisco Ballet, and (my favorite part) Sascha Radetsky of American Ballet Theatre and also the star of the movie “Center Stage.”
It was a truly magical evening, as going to the ballet always is for me; finding myself caught up in the whirl of the movement but unblinkingly still, holding my breath while at the same time pacing my breathing with the dancers themselves, feeling every emotion so acutely yet feeling nothing at all. I’m always exhausted after a ballet performance, as if I’ve actually been the one on stage performing Sleeping Beauty Act III Pas de Duex, the White Swan Pas de Deux, or Raymonda Act III Solo, though I’ve done nothing at all. Mentally, physically, emotionally it captivates me. Nothing is comparable. I would try to describe it like this: It’s like one of those rare, intense, amazing workouts at the gym when you catch a runner’s high and just can’t stop. The endorphins come in such large, powerful quantities that before it’s even over you’re already planning the next time, because you know the feeling will inevitably end and you just can’t wait until it happens again.
Thus, it is still in this exhausted state that I find myself Tuesday evening, eating hummus, couscous, and falafel on the floor in an Arab street restaurant with most of the other PiAers, Leslie, and, PiA’s director, Anastasia, who happened to drop-in for a visit. Despite being tired, and maybe because the beer tower (yes, it is as sweet as it sounds) was constantly being refilled, I truly enjoyed catching up with everyone, learning about some of the “first week horror stories” that are still happening in the sixth week, and also, happily reliving some of the amazing memories we’ve already made. I mean, there isn’t really a better way to spend time when you’re tired than sprawled out on pillows colored in rich maroon and gold, sharing food, stories, advice, and the bottomless beer tower with your friends who are practically family in Singapore.
The rest of the week flew by in a sort-of whirlwind of post-exam activities, grocery shopping, planning a future trip to Cambodia, and, of course, preparing the all-important Halloween costume for the weekend. For now, Stephanie and I have a brilliant, but secret, idea that will be revealed in full tomorrow at our Halloween party and subsequently in pictures on this blog. Hint: It is the symbol of Singapore and hilarious.
Besides the Halloween extravaganza that will certainly ensue tomorrow evening, the weekend plans include a co-workers birthday party tonight, which I am really looking forward to as I am always thrilled for the opportunity to get to know my co-workers outside of the cubical-and-business-pants setting in which I typically interact with them. Also on the agenda: Saturday morning dance class, a Spinning event for the Breast Cancer Foundation in the afternoon, a costume party/club-filled evening, and a double-feature movie day with Jenny on Sunday (showing: “My Sister’s Keeper” and “Love Happens”).
Off to slather on a face mask and bask in the warm, glowing happiness of Friday afternoon.
TIA, Cheers and Happy Halloween!
Rachel
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Beauty, life, regret, and toilets
Beauty:
In his 2008 Pulitzer Prize winning feature article, journalist Gene Weingarten tells the story of famous violinist Joshua Bell’s street performance experiment. (http://www.pulitzer.org/works/2008-Feature-Writing) This incredible musician positioned himself in a high pedestrian traffic area of Washington D.C. discreetly, if you don’t count the priceless instrument emitting heart-breakingly beautiful music produced by an internationally renowned musician whose playing has been said to do “nothing less than tell human beings why they bother to live." The gimmick was the brain-child of the Washington Post; an effort to see if people can or are willing to recognize and appreciate beauty amidst the stressors of everyday life.
The result? Of the 2,004 people who passed Bell on that busy morning on their way to work, 27 gave money, some gave pennies, every single child tried to stop, straining to listen only to be pulled away by a hurrying parent, seven stopped to listen for more than a minute, and one of 2,004 recognized Bell for the famous musician he is.
I read the Washington Post article yesterday. I stopped to pick a flower on my way to work today. I had never noticed them growing there before. Before I pinned it in my hair, I buried my nose in the soft pink petals and inhaled, letting the sweet scent fill my lungs.
Beauty is an ambiguous concept by nature. Can we really define it? If it is beautiful to me, is it beautiful to you? Is it beautiful if no one is there to see it, hear it, touch it, taste it, smell it, love and appreciate it? What makes one thing beautiful and another not? Is beauty limited to the physical world? Can we really define it?
Maybe not. But I do want to know it. I need to know it, and see it, and hear it, and touch it, and taste it, and smell, love and appreciate the ambiguous it everyday. We all do. We need it to survive amidst the evils and ugliness the world can sometimes hold.
I tried to find beauty in my everyday activities this weekend; jazz, yoga, sun bathing, gym going, and movie watching with friends and the girls. I promise it’s there, just waiting for someone to look, to notice.
Life:
The cake, so to speak, was an e-mail from my friend Claire inviting me to Sunday afternoon, ladies-only tea and homemade cookies. And the icing?...the link to an article from “Yes” magazine online titled “Now I Become Myself.”
The introduction to the article by Parker Palmer reads as follows:
“What a long time it can take to become the person one has always been. How often in the process we mask ourselves in faces that are not our own. How much dissolving and shaking of ego we must endure before we discover our deep identity—the true self within every human being that is the seed of authentic vocation.” (http://www.yesmagazine.org/issues/working-for-life/now-i-become-myself#).
Wednesday evening I had the privileged of attending a preview party for “Asia 360”, a new economic and political magazine covering 28 major Asian nations to be launched next year.
There are moments in life when you realize you are exactly where you should be, doing exactly what you should be. Surrounded by prominent journalists, investors, and professors from all over the world, I had one of those “this is exactly where I’m suppose to be moments’ (and I don’t think it was the beautiful venue, free snacks or open bar either). I have an incredible passion for the art, the science, the field of journalism, and this experience, teaching, writing, learning in and exposing myself to Asia, is exactly the path I should be following at this point in my life. Like being slurped up by a big helium balloon and then floated softly around, chest all puffed with excessive joy, on this random Wednesday night in October I felt closer than I ever have before to finding Palmer’s seed of authentic vocation. On a path, discovering a deeper identity.
Regret:
Back to the violinist. Among those seven who paused to listen to Jason Bell play his violin that morning, was John Picarello, a supervisor at the U.S. postal service who, in his youth, had studied to be a concert violinist. When he was 18, he gave up his music studies for a more practical line of work.
In his award winning feature article, Weingarten writes of Picarello, “When he left, Picarello says, ‘I humbly threw in $5.’ It was humble: You can actually see that on the video. Picarello walks up, barely looking at Bell, and tosses in the money. Then, as if embarrassed, he quickly walks away from the man he once wanted to be.”
After I finished the article, this particular section struck me. It scared me even. It was my biggest fear manifesting itself in a complete stranger. I have, since I was young, promised myself I would never look at another person and realize they are who I once wanted to be. What I hope, is to look in the mirror and realize I am the person I once wanted to be. I’m here to grow, evolve into and reveal that person.
I try to go to my hot yoga classes with a mantra. Not only does it seem very yogic and worldly of me, it also prevents me from falling over when trying to hold these ridiculous balances in the 95 degree heat. Tonight this will be mine: “Find beauty everyday, constantly seek your true and deep identity, never regret, you can be the person you always wanted to be.”
Toilets:
But of course I cannot close this serious, personal and heartfelt glimpse of the private workings of my brain for the last week without a lovely story about, what else but...
Toilets. I actually can’t believe I haven’t mentioned this topic before. They really have been an integral and interesting part of my life in Singapore. A perfect example: Just a few days ago, I had a very in-depth Skype conversation with Tim about what exactly would be the correct method to plunge the toilet in my apartment that just doesn’t seem to be flushing correctly lately.
Another random toilet phenomenon, are these signs that are posted in most of the “Western” bathrooms in Singapore. Basically there are pictures of people squatting, literally on the toilet, with a red X through them like the “no smoking” signs in America. The correct way of sitting on the toilet is shown next to the wrong way. At first this seemed ridiculous. I mean who would actually squat on a toilet?
Um…people that have never seen a Western toilet before of course. You see, in much of Asia, toilets are holes in the ground build for squatting over, and you can imagine the confusion of someone who has never seen a Western toilet before encountering one for the first time. In addition, if you really think about it, squatting is much more sanitary than sitting your bum on a toilet seat that a complete stranger’s bum had been sitting on only moments before. So if you aren’t accustomed to the Western toilet, it would only seem logical to you to squat on them.
Now don’t get me wrong. Singapore is certainly westernized, but if you really want them, Asian toilets can be found in almost every restroom in the city. There are even these squatter toilets at my school, and I’ve been in situations in the suburbs, at the soccer game on Tuesday night, and in Malaysia where the squatter is my only option. Never did I anticipate the years of camping and bonfires in small town South Dakota and Wyoming would teach me such a useful skill.
One final note on toilets: When my students ask me if they can use the restroom, it typically goes something like this, “Cher, I need to go toilet please?” To me this sounds equivalent to, “Hey you, I have to pee,” but when translated to English from Singlish, it actually means something like, “Teacher may I please use the restroom.”
May you find beauty everyday, may you constantly seek your true identity, may you never regret, and may you learn how to squat to pee if you come to visit me in Asia.
TIA,
Rachel
In his 2008 Pulitzer Prize winning feature article, journalist Gene Weingarten tells the story of famous violinist Joshua Bell’s street performance experiment. (http://www.pulitzer.org/works/2008-Feature-Writing) This incredible musician positioned himself in a high pedestrian traffic area of Washington D.C. discreetly, if you don’t count the priceless instrument emitting heart-breakingly beautiful music produced by an internationally renowned musician whose playing has been said to do “nothing less than tell human beings why they bother to live." The gimmick was the brain-child of the Washington Post; an effort to see if people can or are willing to recognize and appreciate beauty amidst the stressors of everyday life.
The result? Of the 2,004 people who passed Bell on that busy morning on their way to work, 27 gave money, some gave pennies, every single child tried to stop, straining to listen only to be pulled away by a hurrying parent, seven stopped to listen for more than a minute, and one of 2,004 recognized Bell for the famous musician he is.
I read the Washington Post article yesterday. I stopped to pick a flower on my way to work today. I had never noticed them growing there before. Before I pinned it in my hair, I buried my nose in the soft pink petals and inhaled, letting the sweet scent fill my lungs.
Beauty is an ambiguous concept by nature. Can we really define it? If it is beautiful to me, is it beautiful to you? Is it beautiful if no one is there to see it, hear it, touch it, taste it, smell it, love and appreciate it? What makes one thing beautiful and another not? Is beauty limited to the physical world? Can we really define it?
Maybe not. But I do want to know it. I need to know it, and see it, and hear it, and touch it, and taste it, and smell, love and appreciate the ambiguous it everyday. We all do. We need it to survive amidst the evils and ugliness the world can sometimes hold.
I tried to find beauty in my everyday activities this weekend; jazz, yoga, sun bathing, gym going, and movie watching with friends and the girls. I promise it’s there, just waiting for someone to look, to notice.
Life:
The cake, so to speak, was an e-mail from my friend Claire inviting me to Sunday afternoon, ladies-only tea and homemade cookies. And the icing?...the link to an article from “Yes” magazine online titled “Now I Become Myself.”
The introduction to the article by Parker Palmer reads as follows:
“What a long time it can take to become the person one has always been. How often in the process we mask ourselves in faces that are not our own. How much dissolving and shaking of ego we must endure before we discover our deep identity—the true self within every human being that is the seed of authentic vocation.” (http://www.yesmagazine.org/issues/working-for-life/now-i-become-myself#).
Wednesday evening I had the privileged of attending a preview party for “Asia 360”, a new economic and political magazine covering 28 major Asian nations to be launched next year.
There are moments in life when you realize you are exactly where you should be, doing exactly what you should be. Surrounded by prominent journalists, investors, and professors from all over the world, I had one of those “this is exactly where I’m suppose to be moments’ (and I don’t think it was the beautiful venue, free snacks or open bar either). I have an incredible passion for the art, the science, the field of journalism, and this experience, teaching, writing, learning in and exposing myself to Asia, is exactly the path I should be following at this point in my life. Like being slurped up by a big helium balloon and then floated softly around, chest all puffed with excessive joy, on this random Wednesday night in October I felt closer than I ever have before to finding Palmer’s seed of authentic vocation. On a path, discovering a deeper identity.
Regret:
Back to the violinist. Among those seven who paused to listen to Jason Bell play his violin that morning, was John Picarello, a supervisor at the U.S. postal service who, in his youth, had studied to be a concert violinist. When he was 18, he gave up his music studies for a more practical line of work.
In his award winning feature article, Weingarten writes of Picarello, “When he left, Picarello says, ‘I humbly threw in $5.’ It was humble: You can actually see that on the video. Picarello walks up, barely looking at Bell, and tosses in the money. Then, as if embarrassed, he quickly walks away from the man he once wanted to be.”
After I finished the article, this particular section struck me. It scared me even. It was my biggest fear manifesting itself in a complete stranger. I have, since I was young, promised myself I would never look at another person and realize they are who I once wanted to be. What I hope, is to look in the mirror and realize I am the person I once wanted to be. I’m here to grow, evolve into and reveal that person.
I try to go to my hot yoga classes with a mantra. Not only does it seem very yogic and worldly of me, it also prevents me from falling over when trying to hold these ridiculous balances in the 95 degree heat. Tonight this will be mine: “Find beauty everyday, constantly seek your true and deep identity, never regret, you can be the person you always wanted to be.”
Toilets:
But of course I cannot close this serious, personal and heartfelt glimpse of the private workings of my brain for the last week without a lovely story about, what else but...
Toilets. I actually can’t believe I haven’t mentioned this topic before. They really have been an integral and interesting part of my life in Singapore. A perfect example: Just a few days ago, I had a very in-depth Skype conversation with Tim about what exactly would be the correct method to plunge the toilet in my apartment that just doesn’t seem to be flushing correctly lately.
Another random toilet phenomenon, are these signs that are posted in most of the “Western” bathrooms in Singapore. Basically there are pictures of people squatting, literally on the toilet, with a red X through them like the “no smoking” signs in America. The correct way of sitting on the toilet is shown next to the wrong way. At first this seemed ridiculous. I mean who would actually squat on a toilet?
Um…people that have never seen a Western toilet before of course. You see, in much of Asia, toilets are holes in the ground build for squatting over, and you can imagine the confusion of someone who has never seen a Western toilet before encountering one for the first time. In addition, if you really think about it, squatting is much more sanitary than sitting your bum on a toilet seat that a complete stranger’s bum had been sitting on only moments before. So if you aren’t accustomed to the Western toilet, it would only seem logical to you to squat on them.
Now don’t get me wrong. Singapore is certainly westernized, but if you really want them, Asian toilets can be found in almost every restroom in the city. There are even these squatter toilets at my school, and I’ve been in situations in the suburbs, at the soccer game on Tuesday night, and in Malaysia where the squatter is my only option. Never did I anticipate the years of camping and bonfires in small town South Dakota and Wyoming would teach me such a useful skill.
One final note on toilets: When my students ask me if they can use the restroom, it typically goes something like this, “Cher, I need to go toilet please?” To me this sounds equivalent to, “Hey you, I have to pee,” but when translated to English from Singlish, it actually means something like, “Teacher may I please use the restroom.”
May you find beauty everyday, may you constantly seek your true identity, may you never regret, and may you learn how to squat to pee if you come to visit me in Asia.
TIA,
Rachel
Friday, October 16, 2009
A picture is worth a thousand words...
Chickens in Melacca...right next door?...a chicken rice restaurant!...yum
Chinese Temple in Melacca
The museum in Melacca
Luxury bus
Steve and I enjoying tarts and coffee on the roof of our hostel
Laksa
The entrance to the fort.
Steve at St. Paul's
My street artist
On the way up the hill to St. Paul's church, a beautiful view of the Portuguese area of town, the ocean, and the farris wheel
Lion
Neil eating his breakfast
Jonker Street
Lisa, Amy, me, and Liz outside one of many pineapple tart shops
Hanging out in the Hostel
Me, Lisa, Jacob, Joe, Amy, Liz and Steve enjoying Capital Satay...not pictured: Neil
Digging in
Liz with her selection from Capitol Satay
Rickshaws galore
Random animals
Me at Christ Church in the red Dutch square
Flowers in Melacca
Melacca
Oldest Chinese Temple in Melacca
Watching a movie on the "big screen" at Dan, Trevor, and Mark's pad.
The rest of the gang: Will, me, Mark again, Jacob, Neil, Steph, Steve, and Lisa
Neil and I showing some mid-west love
The gang: Mark, Liz, Aaron, Irene, Trevor, Ana
Will, Mark, me and margarita
Stephanie and I out in Holland Village
Dumplings!
A giant mooncake of course!
Showing the Buddha some love.
Futball game with the boys: Dan, Peter, Colin, Mark, Neil, Andrew, Steve, Jayme and I
On the boat to Semakau Landfill
Semakau design
A random fishing hut off the coast of Semakau landfill.
Tour of Semakau Landfill
Showing the Buddha some love.
Futball game with the boys: Dan, Peter, Colin, Mark, Neil, Andrew, Steve, Jayme and I
On the boat to Semakau Landfill
Semakau design
A random fishing hut off the coast of Semakau landfill.
Tour of Semakau Landfill
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