星空

最近在学华文，所以想多用一点。这一次到台湾，姐姐和我买了好几本几米的书。第一次真正接触到他的作品是当同事送了一本《向左走，向右走》。我非常喜欢，之后便开始留意他的作品。

看他的书，感触很多。 前晚深夜，我阅读了《月亮忘记了》，读着读着，哭了。

他的故事描写了孤独的成人和小孩的世界。他把最新的作品《星空》献给无法与世界勾通的小孩。我也曾经是一个孤独的小孩。 认为父母不了解我，姐弟不喜欢我，朋友不需要我。地方太小了，没有一个容得下我的角落。

孤独的小孩现在长大成为孤独的大人，但也了解寂寞是难免的， 在孤独中有时也可以自得其乐。孤独也可以是一种自由。

只是， 为什么世上有那么多不快乐的小孩呢？美好的童年跑到哪儿去了？

Lavender Fields Forever

Sleep doesn't come easy, even with eyes closed.

When everything in life is but a supposed.

If I should dream of the answer,

may it be lavender fields forever.

Welcome to Taiwan!

This is the trip during which electronic devices fail me and I was forced to listen to the roar of the modern life. My ipod nano played dead and refused to be recharged (but of course it immediately springs to life when I anxiously connected it to the PC at home). Because of that, I had to hear the mutter and chatter of fellow passengers, but mostly the drone of cars, buses, trains and planes that we travelled on. Usually, I nod off after a while. And so I realised how music props me up and yet at the same time, how I actually can do without it.

The digital camera decided it had enough on the 3rd day and retired as well, and so while my companions were busy snapping away, I took mental pictures. Of the delicious food that we had, the quiet restaurants that we went to, the solemnity of the mountains, the Mediterranean gleam of our 民 宿 (called 境外飘流 -- loosely translated as "wanderlust". Doesn't it sound beautiful already!) in Hualien under the fierce sunlight.

Our time at Hualien is perhaps what I will miss the most. Our 民 宿 didn't come cheap, but we all thought it was worth it. There are only 4 rooms, each with a different colour and theme. My sister and I stayed in the green room called "Seeking" while her friends had the red room, "Desire". I especially loved the country style of the latter. (I will post the photos when I have it!) And in the morning, we were always served a hearty breakfast with the nicest black tea I ever had.

The owners, a Taiwanese couple, are very friendly and chatted with us about how they decided to run the 民 宿. They were originally from Taipei and decided to retire and migrate to Australia (They must be darn well-off, because they look no older than in their early 40's). However, the wife (called 小球-- OK, she does look somewhat plump) was hesitant about starting a new life in a whole new environment, and so they settled on Hualien. When the facade of their home was completed and the work on the interior was just beginning, people began to appear on their driveway to ask how much it would cost to stay there. They thought that if people like their home so much, they might as well open it up as a 民 宿, as the appeal of gardening and farming all day would wear off after a while, too.

The Taroko National Park at Hualien left an impression on me too. I've seen taller and more imposing mountains while travelling on train through the Swiss Alps, but this was the first time I've really trekked on a mountain and come so close to the real thing. I also realised I have a fear of heights. We were walking on a trail with no barriers whatsoever, and the sight (and thought) of nothing out there to separate me from the edge which reveals a deep valley below gave me a fright enough to quicken my pace considerably. But the feeling of walking through the fear was really quite good. The suspended bridge after that was a piece of cake.

All these beat the night markets and shopping for me, hands down. BUT, browsing at the bookstores was a joy. The 24-hour bookstore that I went to had little nooks and corners, platforms and steps that seemed designed to invite people to sit down and read. They even had a long table like the libraries. Try finding that in a local bookstore.

I will remember the evening in Hualien when I sat on the balcony of our room that overlook the Pacific Ocean, with eyes closed and arms behind my head. I was trying to catch the slight breeze. While listening to the very soft lapping of the ocean and the passing of the occasional vehicle, I thought of the things I want to do before I die. And I concluded that yes, there are still many fun things to do. :) To borrow from the Emirates commericals, there will always be more first times. If only work, which starts tomorrow, doesn't get in the way of living!

Be Nice to My Mother

I'm possibly my mother's least favourite child. That is something I've known a long time ago, and have accepted. Oh well, you can't be the apple of everybody's eye. We never got along too well together, and it's not deliberate on anyone's part.

I brought last night's dinner leftovers to work today for lunch in my brand new lunch box. :) As I remove the kiasu layers of plastic bag, the paper, and then the tissue paper wrapped by my mother, one thought struck me: who's going to take such pains for me again? Probably no one.

I'm possibly my mother's least favourite child, but still, her child.

A place to love

There is this travelogue with Belinda Lee as the host calle Xi1 You2 Ji4 which I really liked. She went all over the world to document the lives of Sin8aporeans who have ventured far out of our little island. There were 2 seasons if I remember correctly...and I'm rather keen to know if they have produced a DVD set out of them because I would definitely buy it.

It's the best piece of storytelling on TV that I've I watched in a while. The concept is not especially new or original but yet, the stories that come out of it are so real and close to the heart. And although I've never been impressed by hosts who cry, Belinda Lee does seem genuinely engaged with those people she encountered.

I still remember some episodes which left a deep impression on me, such as the Singaporean in Brazil whom Belinda visited during the Chinese New Year period. She cradled the tub of pineapple tarts her mother made for her in her arms, while tears rollled down her face and she kept repeating: "I'm not sad, I'm very happy".

The TV station is repeating the 2nd season on Saturday afternoons so I had the pleasure of catching some of the episodes that I missed out, such as the one of the Singaporean woman living by herself in Mongolia. She seems to be in her late 30's but resembles a big baby, because she looks so happy and glowing. The move to Mongolia was sparked by her love of the country and culture, which is very weird because she belongs the ang-moh pai. Still, one can tell she is really enjoying every moment there. She showed off her frozen hair after washing it in the open during the freezing Mongolian winter. She danced and jiggled, tried skiing on the ice in her Mongolian robe and shoes while making all sorts of weird poses, and generally acted goofy for the camera. It was so funny that I laughed out loud while watching her, which surprised myself, since I woke up with puffy eyes and a droopy spirit that morning.

When asked if she will return to Singapore, she chuckled and said no. "But why?", Belinda asked her. It's like falling in love, she replied. She wants to be in Mongolia for her whole life and she wants to be there all the time.

How I wish I can find a place to love too. I don't think I can love Sin8apore the way she loves Mongolia. For one, I don't want to be here all the time. Neither do others, which is why we all love travelling. As much as I don't wish to sound cynical, Sin8apore is like a corporation, and corporations are not something that will inspire what I call the big love. Sure, there're things that I like, such as the convenience and safety, the cleanliness and efficiency, and of course the food. But these are not the stuff that people fall in love with. Its the beauty and the spirit of the country, and a certain hint of possibility in the air. If anything, I find the air here too stale, too little, because there're too many people to share it with. I feel crowded out. It's funny that the government keeps warning us that we are not having enough babies, because this is the one place that makes me feel that we should stop reproducing ourselves because there are too many of us. Every resource is scarce, from water to housing to space to seats on the MRT trains. Whatever you name, we probably don't have enough.