Home Sweet Home

For the past two weeks or so the Dodgess and I have slept very soundly. In a nice cool room, on a brand new, hugely comfortable bed. We have been around to a lot of furniture stores, and bought a lot of furniture. We have packed and unpacked a lot of boxes. All in the name of moving home.

This time there has been a satisfying degree of permanence about our unpacking. Whereas previously we have tended to only unpack the vital boxes, and to keep hold of them. This time, we will throw them away. We have unpacked each one (well, almost each one.）

Our new home is a 3 bedroom flat on the top of a hill. Most of the way up a low rise walk-up block it comes with marble floors, at least in the living room, and even has unimagined luxuries as ‘his and hers’ sinks. A complete waste of time. We could have his and hers bathrooms in this place incidentally.

We like it – lots. Having gotten rather too used to a bedroom bossed by a main road, it is nice to be able to sleep with windows open, and have a breeze. After having gotten used to a somewhat dark and dingy layout, we now have one far more open, and we can stand on the balcony observing (but not really hearing) the multitude of airplanes that use Changi Airport.

Having both moved some 7500 miles previously, this latest move seemed nice and small – only 500m max. And I’m sure that we will be visitors back to the Summit for its good qualities (pool, squash courts). Here are some photos.

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It is a rare thing for both the Dodgess and I to have a free evening, and a free morning thereafter. As it is such a rare event we decided to make the most of it and spend a night away from unpacking cardboard boxes, and the temptations of laptops.

I really wanted to love the Changi Village Hotel. There are, afterall, not all that many places in Singapore which have the pace of a genteel English town, but Changi is one. It is also a stone’s throw from a nice beach side walk, and if you quite enjoy hearing the roar of Rolls Royce jet engines, as we quite do, there are probably few places better. The other reason is it has one of the best Italians in Singapore – La Cavatina, located on a rooftop terrace with views out over the South China Sea – it is the sort of place where I imagine no ill ever happens.

And the building is quite nice – a few individual touches, and architecturally interesting, if somewhat flawed. However, it let itself down badly. I don’t mind paying a premium for breakfast at the hotel – but surely it should cost less if I book in advance than if I walk in? In fact, by booking in advance, I bought the most expensive breakfast I could have.

Never mind, there would always be the al-fresco pasta on the rooftop. Not tonight – closed. No reason. No warning. So rather than a fabulous dinner in a great location, we ended up outside next to a rather frustrating road in a place called The Wine Company. Not the same. Nor was the food. We only ordered two dishes – separated in delivery by 5 minutes. Surely the kitchen isn’t that lazy that they just start food as it’s ordered. 

My chicken stir-fry was poor – in a sickly over sweet and overly hot sauce and with a portion of rice that was stingier than a Scotsman. The Dodgess had Char Kway Teow – not the worst she’s ever had, but at the price it should have been the best, but was far from it. So could we charge it to our room? No. I mean, why would we want to do that in a hotel restaurant. They didn’t charge service – I wouldn’t have paid it.

Then some room service desert – again the food was moderate. But our two deserts came with one set of cutlery – just as well the Dodgess and I quite like each other!

Despite my displeasure at the pricing policy, breakfast was nice. The room too had some nice touches – but lacked interest on the walls. The window between the bedroom and bathroom is a weird architectural detail that needn’t be replicated.

Still, the company was excellent throughout!

Old Friends (and a new one too)

I had an entirely miserable weekend in Hong Kong last September. I mean, it was successful, in that I passed the exams I was taken, so it wasn’t a disaster, it just wasn’t very much fun. It was sunny when I was in exams, or revising for same. When I decided to have a break, it was raining, and I got soaked. And, I had absolutely no idea what to do, so the sights that I saw were rubbish.

This, incidentally, is the opposite of the Dodgess’ visit last December – which she loved. She had the benefit of her best friend from Singapore, and a local guide who also happens to be another long-standing good friend. My dislike of Hong Kong also went down rather badly with those 3 residents of Hong Kong that I know.

When I was first told about my second trip to Hong Kong – for a work conference – I was convinced that my second trip would end up exactly the same way. I mean, being stuck in a hotel outside of Hong Kong is not what I really want to do there, let alone the Corporate brain-washing that would undoubtedly be attempted during those three days. It was also going to be about 2 days before I had to go back to Vietnam, so I’d have like 12 hours in Singapore in between.

Then I gave up on going back, in between Hong Kong and Vietnam, giving me 24 hours in Hong Kong all to myself. I had some nice images of getting up The Peak, or perhaps see something else (again – I hadn’t really done my homework).

Once again, I didn’t get to see anything. So I still need to go back and sightsee, but I did have a great time. On the Saturday evening, I met up with a new friend. One who sat next to me at an engineering dinner in Singapore.  We spent most of it talking shop, but, somehow, spending time with a friend you rarely see is generally better than a friend who you see every day.

That philosophy also applied to a mate I met for lunch the day after. Another colleague, however this one I had worked with in the UK – where we hardly had the most memorable of times. This Sunday we did – a very memorable Sunday lunch in Hong Kong – probably the best British food since I’ve been in Asia.

Vietnam, frankly, could not live up – and didn’t really. In fact, by the time I reached Vietnam at midnight that Sunday I had lost almost all the high of the lunch earlier. In fact, save for one freak event, the trip to Vietnam would have been pretty awful – by the time I had been bullied into checking a bag in at Hanoi airport I’d gone effectively 6 days without seeing the Dodgess, and I had severe withdrawal systems.

That random event, in the Pearl River Hotel lobby as I was running out for a meeting, I got spotted. Spotted by a very heavily pregnant woman who had shared a house with one of my best friends at Uni. She had followed her (British) husband who has a job working in Vietnam. It was nice to catch up – we had about 6 years to catch up on. Next time I’m in Vietnam we’ll only be catching up for about 2 months, but I will meet her son, who will be about 2 months old less 3 days!

All in all, this could have been a pretty dreadful few days. There was plenty wrong with it – the conference was quite predictable, if reasonably enjoyable. Mind you, I was mighty pleased to finally get on the flights back – a real rarity in having about 50 seats to myself on the plane which made it better. And at the end of it was the best part of the week – a hug from the Dodgess.

Penang

On our second day in Penang, the Dodgess and I decided that we were properly spoiled when it came to holidays. We were walking around the centre of Penang, which is reasonably attractive, and probably very interesting if you are into Asian religions. The trouble is, as city centres go, it simply isn’t as interesting as Vienna, or Paris, or New York. We went up Penang Hill, which on a clear day would offer beautiful views over Penang. For us, it was a little foggy, and anyway, the views wouldn’t beat that over Paris from the Eiffel tower, or Central Park from Rockerfeller Centre, or Boston from the Prudential Tower.

The hotel is Penang was ok – well, apart from giving us two small beds, rather than one big one, but we’ve stayed in better in lots of places. The food was pretty similar to Singapore – perhaps exciting if you’re not living in Singapore, but living there, again, we’ve had better.

And yet, there is a reason that we left saying that we’d definitely go back. It all happens between 6pm and 8pm. The most magical sunsets imaginable. It takes quite a lot for the Dodgess and I to stop, but this stopped us, as we sat in awe of the sun setting over the sea on the north shore. The next day, we weren’t sat on the beach, but the colours were just as awesome as we strolled out for dinner.

We may not go back – we can probably find such a sunset elsewhere – but we did enjoy our break.

Penang was in the middle of June, a month in which almost everyone I met said I’d joined the Jet Set. Well, frankly, I’m glad that in July I’m not in that set anymore. It probably can be glamorous, but for me, the 12 flights in 5 weeks, with 5 trips overseas and 14 nights in hotels really was not. For now, my work in Vietnam is on hold awaiting decisions from others, which means that I’m massively busy in Singapore. Being busy is, I can confirm, better than being empty at work. But it is VERY tiring!

A Railway from Times Past

So, earlier this week the Dodgess and I went to Malaysia. Sounds very exotic. In fact, we just went over the water to Johor Bahru, which is about 2 minutes from Singapore. And we went for an afternoon, and in fact we didn't really do much once we were there except eat and shop in the nearest shopping mall to the station.

To get there we got on a train at Tanjong Pagar Station. Walking into Tanjong Pagar station is like walking into a time machine and being taken back to the 70s, or perhaps even earlier.

The station entrance hall is a high ceilinged arch. The decoration almost certainly hasn't changed since 1932 when the station opened, and consists of tiles showing scenes of Malaysia. Unlike the old stations in Europe, which have been updated (to varying degrees of success), Tanjong Pagar is completely untouched by progress – there are no electronic screens showing departure times, there are no loud speakers.

Having passed Malaysian immigration; in what is little more than a shed on the platform, we got on the train. Again, something of a time warp. Maybe not back to the 1930s like the station, but back to the 70s probably. 

Then there is the old track infrastructure – again this is out of the 1930s. The points are still changed by mechanics – and men pulling. The single track is still managed by the 'hand bag' system that my Dad explained to me on a single track stretch of the line between Knaresborough and York. It truly is like going back in time.

And whilst this nostalgia is all very well, it is of course the problem too. Going by train to Malaysia is not a modern way at the moment. You need to get off the train to go through Singaporean immigration at Woodlands. The train is low, and the ride quality is, well, 20^th Century. And so this fabled section of line will close within the next two weeks.

There will still be a rail link. Next time, I would travel from a modern new station at Woodlands, and get off at a most modern station in JB, both with stylish smooth lines and curved steel trusses, and lots of tv screens.

But, it won't be the same – not only are the modern stations nothing like the architectural marvel of Tanjong Pagar, but Woodlands just is not really the place to get on and off the train. It's just a long way from the centre. 

There is a very great joy to travelling on Eurostar – you arrive at sensitively restored architectural marvels in the centre of both London and Paris, and it is fast - less than 3 hours. I agree that the Tanjong Pagar branch is not fast, and not attractive for travel, but its location is the tops, and I can't help think that any prospect of a high speed link from central Singapore to KL has gone.

 

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One of the most memorable holidays I ever went on was to Austria, in order to see a solar eclipse. It was a fab experience, and a fab holiday. So the prospect of seeing a full lunar eclipse was something that the Dodgess and I were quite happy to wake up at 3 am to see.

In Austria, we climbed to the top of a mountain, into a cloud. We were very upset until about half an hour before the eclipse when the clouds quite miraculously cleared and we saw the sun disappear.

So when we woke up to a cloudy sky I wasn't too worried to be honest. I mean, the clouds would obviously clear once again.

Well, they did begin to clear. By dropping all the rain. And oh my did the clouds have a lot of rain to drop. We waited, and waited, for like an hour and more. And we got nowhere near seeing any sky at all. Still – here's a couple of photos to prove the endeavour:

Jet Set

I remember the very first time that I travelled anywhere on business. It was after my third year at university, and I was to accompany a colleague on a tender briefing in Manchester. I was on the road early in my car to Loughborough, and delighted. The Dodgess, equally, delighted that I was invited around to meetings in Manchester. For a student, I lived the high life - free lunch, and 38p per mile for driving was a real bonus.

Oh how things have changed. Strange, because my latest travel is undoubtedly far more exciting, at least on paper. I mean - Ho Chi Minh, Hai Phong, and Hanoi are certainly more interesting than Manchester. Flying around is certainly more exciting than driving down the M42. the flight to Ho Chi Minh particularly hair-raising, with the Captain aborting the landing a few seconds before touching down due to heavy rain - I was relieved - visibility was below 100m!

The trouble with business travel, is, frankly, the work. We had a meeting in Hai Phong on Wednesday. In order to make it we had to fly to Ho Chi Minh on Tuesday evening. Then wake up at the crack of dawn (well, before in fact - 4.30 am) in order be on the first flight of the day to Hai Phong. Whilst we did manage to land first time in Hai Phong, the flight was awful. We were sat next to a mother struggling with her toddler daughter. I can understand this, but then who thinks changing a nappy at the seat is a great idea? Really nasty. It hardly surprised me when she sent her tray flying down the gap between the table and theseat. But it was very funny. At that point, we gave up a moved down the plane.

This set the tone for the day. We had a horrible meeting about our poject, then a 3 hour car journey on northern Vietnam's slightly rough roads. We eventually arrived in Hanoi, and the driver had no idea where the hotel was. A leisurely tour of the river bank later, and eventually we reached the hotel far too tired to enjoy the evening, or the suites that we had been upgraded to. 


Things did improve mildly on Thursday - we had some productive meetings. But two got pushed to Friday. The result was that we were running around like loonies. We set off for the airport for the flight back only 2 hours before the flight. Normally, I'd be at the airport at this time, let alone shaking hands with a Japanese contractor. The stress levels flew up as we got stuck in Hanoi's worsening traffic. The trouble is, should we miss that flight, then we'd be in Hanoi until Saturday.

So we did get on the flight back in the end. Hanoi airport is scarily efficient, or maybe they all are if you don't have enough time. Overall, though, this week proves why I dislike travel for business. Ok, the meetings are necessary. But, the two of us spent the best part of the week in Vietnam. In that time we wrote no reports, even sending emails was tough. 

I will no doubt whinge about things more - this was my third trip to Vietnam. In the next month, I have at least one more, together with a trip to Hong Kong. I also have two trips that I actually look forwards to - the Dodgess and I are visiting Penang. And we intend to sleep!


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In the past two weeks I have, in between my flights to Vietnam, managed to go to two concerts put on by students of the Dodgess. Both have, in different ways, been staggering.


The first one was a solo piano recital. All the usual suspects where included - some Chopin, Lizst, Brahms. Performed in the Esplanade Recital Studio, this was a very good recital, by anyone's standards. The pianist was 17. A young age for a solo recital. Particularly given that she doesn't even want to pursue music professionally - aiming to study medicine. I had thought that she was perhaps a one off - no - the same teached puts such recitals on every six months.


The second was a half hour recital in Esplanade Concourse. Not this time by one person, but by 3 from Raffles Institution. Again, the level was pretty exemplary. The age, yet lower, 12 -14. One boy could scarcely see above the top of the piano.


I went to what was without one of the best schools I could have gone to, and I daresay that I met with some of the most talented children that I could have. Yet it seems to me that even the Perse School would have been hard pushed to put on three 12-14 year olds with such distinction. That concert was not a one off either - Raffles Girls School presented the following evening, though I was en route to Ho Chi Minh as the performance progressed.

It's still quite a large world

Those who wish to prophesise that the world is somewhat small, would cite someone like me to prove their case. I have after all, been to 5 continents, been in hospital on four (!?) and even lived on 3, encompassing points that are diametrically opposite, at least in terms of east-west if not north-south.

Still, I was reminded exactly how far away Britain was when my Uncle Harry passed away of cancer earlier this month. Looking through our wedding photos taken not 5 months before reminded me that at the time he was hopeful that he was getting over some mystery illness that had affected for the previous 18 months, and was hopeful of a trip to Singapore at some point. I have probably too few memories of Harry - but those that I do have are of a true gentleman, invariably with a beer in his hand (but never the adverse affects of his preferred tipple) and a slight assymetric smile.

Being thousands of miles away relatives is of course nothing new. But the world does seem very very big when you'd like to try and get back at a week's notice. Not for the first time, this proved impractical, and the predicament was one of two things that brought my US GrandDad to mind this month. 


The other was a performance of Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto by Midori. The Tchaik has a particular resonance around our family - It was undoubtedly my Grandfather's favourite piece of music, and I will never forget his reaction at hearing it in (presumably) the first time in years after I played Vengerov's recording to him in his home in Washington DC. He had had a CD player for years, but owing to his short-sightedness had never worked out how to use it. It was like the dawn of a new world for him. From then on for the next two years he would listen to a piece of music every night before dinner. After he passed away, his Dog maintained the habbit!


The Dodgess also played it in her final concert in the UK. Originally she had planned to play it earlier, but an operation had prevented it. So, as a piece that meant so much, and had so many memories, I was hoping for a good, virtuosic performance.


What I got was in many ways far better... Midori's playing was incredibly tender. It really brought out the lyricism within the piece, in a way that I had never really thought possible before. The fireworks were of course present (with that finale, it's kind of hard for them not to be), but, my main memory is of the melancholy that she brought to the performance. It is without a doubt why I attend live concerts (her recording is reportedly nothing like as tender) and was one of the best performances I've ever heard of anything.

This book-ended a week of fabulous concerts. The first had been Ken Hamilton's Lizst recital. The pianist was the Dodgess' PhD supervisor, and now she is his Concert Supervisor (at least in Singapore). For the first time I really enjoyed Lizst's b minor sonata - a "pianists' piece" if ever there was one. I've always liked the Hungarian Rasphody 2 - though, like Midori, Ken put a new spin on the piece compared to the recordings that I've heard. And, like the best concerts, I will look out for more Lizst, in particular the Biblically difficult Transendental Etudes.


Ken stayed around for the week. I like to think this is entirely to take his concert organiser (and her husband) out for cocktails, though in reality it probably has more to do with a series of masterclasses in schools. The last time he performed here, his Concert Organiser was treated to Cocktails at the Marina Mandarin, where the thigh high slits in the waitresses skirts startled the Dodgess. This time, the Dodgess was startled by the view from the rooftop bar of the Fullerton Bay Hotel, which feels every cent like a set from Sex and the City.  It was a good night.


So, the past three weeks have been an up and down ride. And I haven't even discussed the lengthy saga of us trying to buy a flat here - this will no doubt come up at some point in the future, though its tone is somewhat dependent on the outcome of all the negotiations.


So Grandad, I hope that you enjoyed the Tchaik. And Harry - I hope you did too, and I will keep a look out for a concert including some Stanford that I know was your favourite.