Brahms at the Esplanade

Last night I played my first concert in Singapore. It consisted of Brahms' First Symphony, and that was it.


Before any of you develop strange ideas, this was not a case of a strange Asian ritual where the spread a 45 minute piece over two halves of a concert - more of an educational concert consisting of excerpts first, and full performance second.


In the UK a concert such as this would spell disaster. Some complete unknown who couldn't speak English would read some unpenetrable guff, and 40 of the 50 people in the audience would leave before we got the chance to play the piece in full. Consequently it was with distinct aprehension that I turned up for the first rehearsal in a sports centre near the other end of the island.

The conductor, Lim Yao, has a reputation for being rather strict. In fact, he takes strictness to a level that an amateur orchestra would not accept in the UK. Firstly, there were no breaks. We played straight through for 150 minutes. He wasn't shy to criticise either - 'you're the lead cello, you can't just sit back as if you were back desk and not lead' or 'oboe - each week equally out of tune - why? can you not afford an oboe that can play in tune? You went to an expensive school surely you can afford an oboe?'


But, Mr Lim did always know what he wanted. And had both the time and resolution to get what he wanted. It's a long time since I've paid so much attention to a single piece of music - ironically enough, also Brahms.


The concert, held in the Esplanade, which is Singapore's version of Symphony Hall was successful - we had plenty of audience (certainly high hundreds), and the presenter was pretty good, the audience even participated - and ONLY when invited to. The full play through also went well. 


Afterwards the Dodgess and I meandered over to one of Singapore's top hotels. Why? One of her colleagues does a jazz night there each Thursday. So we popped in for half a session and a very chilled out fruit tea - one of the best ways I've ever come across to relax after a concert!

Here are some photos of the Esplanade (not actually from last night, but when I went to the opera the Dodgess played in during January. It is a really nice hall to play in - reminiscent of Symphony Hall, but a bit warmer. Incidently, designed by the same architect, but he gave up on the orange in favour of a green.

Ok - so we're not allowed to photo inside the halls, but this is pretty nice for the bar area!

Back to Bartering

Prior to moving to Singapore I think that I bartered for things exactly twice. Or at least twice that I can remember. When buying Ruth's engagement ring I was encouraged to put forward an offer - it saved me 10% which was worth it.

Perhaps the reason why I only bartered once in the UK was becuase of my previous experience, on a rugby tour to South Africa 10 years earlier. On that tour I offered a street vendor 5 rand for 3 wooden elephants. The seller's target price had been 6, and he immediately accepted my 5. Success! Or not - the guy obviously didn't earn much, and when I got back on the tour bus, I realised that I had bartered down his price by about 10 pence - enough for, well 10 penny sweets, but not much else. For him the 1 rand would have been half a meal... so suddenly I felt a bit guilty about it.

Here, however, bartering is pretty normal. I mean there are many places (probably an increasing number) where the price is just the price. However there are plenty others where the price is sort of a guide for opening negotiation. Consequently I bartered a storage yard down for the boxes we sent.


I have also bartered successfully for a squash racquet and shoes - I even got a toblerone thrown in with the squash (well - if I'm going to run around I need to energy). And I have also had some successful bartering on my half by the Dodgess' Mother - for a tailored suit - I didn't understand a word. Nonetheless she was saying things, and he was waving his arms clearly saying that the amount of material in my suit was perhaps rather more than most of their suits. (because I'm 6'2" btw - my BMI is about 22 - so it's not cause I'm a complete porker).


I quite enjoy bartering - but I'm not very good at it. I need to learn how to do it well. Perhaps I should just offer what I think is a silly price, walk away, and then come back after 10 mins and re-state my price. Being conspicuous will presumably help with this... I mean, how many westerners will come along and make ridiculous offers, and then come back 10 mins later to try again??

New flat

As some of you reading will know I've recently moved into a place of my own having intially stayed with the Dodgess' mother.

So - it's a two room condo. Effectively this is a posh version of a flat. It comes with two ensuite bedrooms, and an joined up dining room and lounge. The kitchen is adjoined by the maid's room, aboviously - as all good kitchens are. I think I left my maid in Cambridge about 8.5 years ago - she used to talk alot about maths or something...


Having just got the flat our boxes made it off the ship and into the flat. Most things in the ship made it safe and sound, though quite spectacularly our glass chopping board didn't, together with a couple of photo frames. I've still got about 4 boxes to unpack, but it's getting there. Slowly.


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I arrived in Singapore 9 weeks ago today, so that is 63 days. As I'm writing after dinner I guess that I have had 189 meals here. Of which I have cooked precisely 4.


This is partly unfair. I have prepared about 63 breakfasts for myself; toast is particularly challenging to get right. Even harder in our flat as I have yet to get a toaster. 


The primary reason of course is having the Dodgess' Mother prepare so many for me. But also, I am doing a lot of cello playing in orchestras, recording backing tracks for friends, that sort of thing, for which I lose the ability to eat at home. Such extravagance in the UK just couldn't happen. For a start I'd end up weighing, well, about what I did when rugby was an appealing sport to play. For a second my wallet just wouldn't cope with it! To put this into perspective, I can get a tasty dinner for under £1. Always under £2. If I want, I can get it cooked pretty much to order too - it's not just some cafe slop chucked on a plate. It certainly makes a nice change from the UK, where the £1 wouldn't even get me an out of date croissant!


Still, from time to time I do like to indulge in a bit of decadent cheffery, now that it is purely optional.

A golf course on Orchard Road

Those of you who read The Dodgess will know that over the Lunar New Year Holiday we went to visit the Istana, Singapore's White House. Needless to say it is somewhat lavish, as you would expect for the highest paid president in the world.

Even so, the grounds do put the efforts of other governments to shame, for, the grounds are no less than a golf course!!!

Now lets put this into perspective. The Istana is right at the heart of Singapore, set just off the equivalent of Oxford Street, or perhaps 5th Ave. And they have a GOLF COURSE taking up who knows how much space.

Lucky them. Here are a few photos:

 

 

We also got to have a look around inside a couple of the guest rooms. I have to say the greatest attraction of this was the super cold air con units... despite the murky skies, the temp was still somewhat over the 30C mark.

Inside were displays of the various gifts the government had received. Britain had sent but 1 recently, a pair of silver goblets engrave with Elizabeth II Regina and the Singapore Crest. Reasonably nice. Some countries had sent things that were distinctly unimpressive. New Zealand sent a plate. I think they got it from IKEA - well perhaps if Sweden had sent it I could understand!

Incidently, in case you think I'm kidding, I would have taken photos inside, but a very polite chap tells you not to. I often don't obey such polite chaps, but this one was holding a machine gun, so I did obey him. (Now you all know what to do if you want me to pay attention to you)

Breathing Easy

Those that know me reasonably well will know that, at times, I find breathing a little tricky. It's not that I somehow forget how to breath or anyhitng like that. It's just that  my body cannot regulate the loss of carbon dioxide from my blood as well as most people; or at least that is the best explanation for asthma that I've heard.

With one notable exception in the early 90s when I spent a few days in hospital my asthma has been generally quite well controlled by inhalers. However, controlling it by inhalers was just part of my daily life. At some point I would inevitably reach for my little blue life support machine in my pocket. 


One of the great joys of Singapore is that, in 7 weeks here, I think I have reached for the little blue life support maching exactly once. The Dodgess and I had gone to one of her colleague's for a party, and they had a cat. Again, those who know me well, will know that cats stop me breathing. Not on purpose I agree - but the hairs do something very strange to my breathing.


I wish that I knew why this happened. I would of course sell the reason and make my fortune this way. It is definitely true that heat helps - my asthma was always worst on dry cold days, and better on warm muggy days.


Perhaps the world here has that bit more CO2 in the air, meaning that less escapes from my lungs when I breath, but that doesn't really make sense as I've spent the last 7 years living pretty near the middle of a pretty big city, and the previous 18 even nearer the centre of a pretty city.

Whatever is causing it, I don't really plan to complain. I'm merely enjoying my free breathing.

Xin Nian Quai Le

That's Happy Lunar New Year...

Actually, in Singapore, it tends to be gong xi fa cai, which is the Cantonese version.

For the Chinese, the Lunar New Year is very like Christmas. Actually, a better comparison is Thanksgiving. Everyone gets a couple of days off work and people go around seeing their family and friends. Work put on a buffet in the office with associated joviality - we've had two in two months so far - last year in the UK we got 2 in, errrr, no, we got 1 all year.


We also get given a couple of days off work. The first of these in new year's eve, where traditionally the whole family gets together for the Reunion Dinner. Then another two days to go and visit family and friends.


As with Christmas and Thanksgiving, food plays an important part. Not turkey... abalone. This is an exotic and expensive shellfish, and they've managed to put it into extortionately priced tins. Probably the most expensive tinned food ever. Mind you, the fresh stuff is really really expensive!

In SE Asia there is also a tradition of tossing the veg. A plate of food is prepared and then thrown into the air, with the aim to get it as high as possible. I got some admiring glances with the height of my veg at our company's celebration - but then I do have a slight advantage over many, errr, all of the natives!


Gifts usually consist of packets of cakes and other food and drink. Red packets are also given out by those in authority, to those not, with a little bonus in. Dpending on the traditions of the company these can either be effectively the performance bonus, or little more than a token gesture for the season. Sadly, for my employer, it is the latter. My bonus, such that it exists, doesn't come until December...


Of course, just as in the north western quartersphere, it is not impossible for the stress of the preparations to outweigh the joy of the overall event. Most notably, not only does a family prepare a feast, but all the homes are spring cleaned from top to bottom in order to rid them of any bad spirits. Consequence - lots of cleaning. The worst has got to be cars. People will queue hours and hours on New Years eve to get the car clean. Every forecourt is packed.


There are other consequences too - the shops are rammed. Not an inch of space in them. Queues in banks are outrageous as people being served demand freshly minted notes for their red packets. 


So is it worth it? 


 Oh yeah!!

Bespoke Clothing

The thing about having something made specially for you is that it's well, special. 

In the UK, bespoke isn't a thing that happened to me very much in Europe; though I can always point to one very notable example, my cello (thanks Mum). But in Singapore, this isn't as true. I've now had tailored clothing made for me twice.


The first time I came here I decided to get a suit made. I went to a recommended tailor, accompanied by the Dodgess and her mother. Just as well, really. For a start I would never have found the place. It was the smallest shop I'd ever been in, tucked underneath a yellow and blue shopping mall, which had seen better days.

For something that I was theoretically in control of I had absolutely no idea what was happening - the negotiations on everything including style were carried out in Hokkien, between the tailor and the Dodgess' Mum. In fact, the only bit I got was when the price was being discussed, and the tailor turned to me, looked aghast, and then pointed from my head to toe. Clearly I was somewhat longer than his average customer. Still - I liked the results.


When I arrived this time, I found myself again taken down to a tailor, again thanks to the Dodgess's mother, but this time as a gift. 


Unlike the previous time, I would have been able to find this place on my own. It was in the middle of Raffles Hotel, and everything was in English. The last order they had was a load of shirts for the Asia Pacific Economic Forum Leaders Meeting in Singapore. And I now have two shirts, made by the same hands that make shirts for politicians...


I have to admit, that I do like tailored things. For a start, any normal shirt which fits my next can wrap itself round my waist twice. Then there are my arms, which are not the same length aparently. Not quite sure why, but my left arm is longer by about 2cm than the right. Maybe breaking an arm shortens it. But above all, they make you feel special. Something just for you.


So, will I be having everything tailored from now? errr no. Tailored clothes in Singapore cost about the same as expensive clothes in the UK. This makes them quite a lot more expensive than cheap clothes, which here are even cheaper than in the UK.

Also, at the moment, I treat my bespoke clothing with a distinct reverence. If I wore them every day, they would cease to be, well, special.