Category: Published

Top Eight Places to “Work from Home”

Published on December 1, 2013 in the Singapore American Newspaper:

In this modern day and age, “working from home” can mean working from almost anywhere if you play your cards right. Plus, a change of scenery can do wonders for your creativity and motivation, whether it’s writing an article, putting together a lesson plan or organizing leads on Salesforce. When I get bored of my apartment’s four walls, here are my top eight places to work from home (in no particular order):

7-8

3-4

5-6

1-2

As a final note, I want to say that while there are reliable hubs of strong WiFi to be found throughout the city, it is far more convenient to transform your smartphone into a WiFi Hotspot. Not only is it safer than connecting your laptop to a public network, a Hotspot relies on Singapore’s ubiquitous 3G signal (meaning it can be employed just about anywhere). There are plenty of YouTube videos and how-to guides on the internet to walk you through setting a Hotspot up and, trust me, you will be thrilled you did. Now get back to work.

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The Nature of Sri Lanka

Published on November 1, 2013 in the Singapore American Newspaper:

How would you describe your ideal travel destination? Tropical beaches or crisp mountains? Adventurous hikes or luxe spas? Exquisite food or cultural wonders? Even if you chose all of the above, Sri Lanka fits the bill. As it were, my friends and I decided to make nature and wildlife the primary focus of our ten-day trip around the island nation. We were not disappointed.

Sri Lanka has excellent roads and for a multi-city tour like ours, a driver was by far the best option for getting around. Our trip began at dawn in Negombo, a coastal city seven kilometers north of Colombo, where we observed the bustling outdoor fish market in action. Brightly painted fishing boats filled the green waters of the Laccadive Sea and the docks were busy with butchers expertly lopping the heads off fish larger than me. Along the 100 km long canal, groups of men and women could be spotted shaking nets to loosen tiny fish, which danced and glittered under the watchful eyes of cats and crows. When I smiled at people, they smiled back.

We drove from Kalpitiya (on the west coast and perfect for dolphin watching) inland to Sigiriya, and it was impossible to resist pulling over to sample the myriad of freshly picked local fruit. Bright hanging bunches of apples. Small, fragrant bananas. Piles of fresh pineapples, durians, and jackfruit. If you’ve never tasted a rambutan, mangosteen, or king coconut, this is the place to do it. Painted Buddhas, white stupas, and pastel-colored churches flew by our windows, but our attention was seized by the mammoth Lion Rock in the distance. 200 meters high and shot through with red and white layers of stone, the boulder can be seen for miles. Visitors climb to the summit via narrow staircases, passing by acrobatic families of monkeys, colorful frescoes, and the Mirror Wall, which once upon a time was so well polished that the king could see himself as he walked alongside it. A sudden squall hit when we were two-thirds into our ascent, but we pressed on and up through the whipping winds and pouring rain, and we were rewarded shortly after reaching the grassy top. The storm dissipated and the fog rolled back to reveal an endless, deep green landscape stretching out around us in all directions.

We spared a few hours for Kandy, a lively little city that encapsulated Sri Lanka’s easy blend of modernity and heritage. Men and women wore both western and traditional clothing. Post offices, police stations, medical centers, banks, and the public bus system all appeared readily available across the country. Yet there was a refreshing lack of a dominant fast food presence. For the next leg of our journey, our van climbed out of the tropical jungles up to the misty tea plantations nestled near the cool summits of Nuwara Eliya’s mountain ranges. Tamil women moved through the winding rows of Assam bushes with practiced ease, plucking the young leaves and shoving handfuls into the sacks on their backs. Though there are a number of smaller inns and lodges balanced on the mountainsides, I suggest splurging on a stay at the Heritance Tea Factory, which has been refurbished into an elegant hotel that retains almost all of the factory’s original 1930s infrastructure.

The next morning was crisp and sunny. Though I didn’t think it was possible, our little van climbed even higher, up into and above the clouds, where we tackled the nine km World’s End hike across the Horton Plains. We marveled at the herds of elk in the vast grasslands and the proximity of the clouds to the dense forests. The trail led to a vantage point perched on a sheer cliff drop overlooking a rolling basin ringed by mountains that lurched into the sky.

Horton Plains (1)

Although we had retained our driver, Upali, for the entirety of the trip, we couldn’t resist taking a train back down from tea country. Though not the fastest form of transportation in the country, it is without a doubt the most scenic. Our blue locomotive raced through corridors of lush foliage that would suddenly give way to views of immense valleys dotted with terraced farms and varicolored villages, surrounded by infinite waves of highlands. Sri Lanka is a rainbow of greens: emerald Assam tea bushes, pale new sprouts in vegetable patches, dark and gargantuan forests that run rampant up steep mountainsides.

In the southeastern town of Tissamaharama that night, we went to sleep early so as to rise before dawn the following morning for an all-day safari in Yala National Park. It was a long, dusty, adrenaline-fueled day spent in an open-air jeep hunting for a glimpse of a wild leopard. We were lucky enough to find one napping in the crook of a tree while locked in a hilariously quiet traffic jam of jeeps all trying to get close without disturbing the creature. For me however, the real treat was witnessing a family of elephants (including two infants) splash in the mud of a reservoir in the hot afternoon. There were a number of other animal sightings and we didn’t leave the park until after sunset.

Our next destination was the southern city of Galle, a historic colonial town cradled inside the barricades of a Dutch fort. Engulfed in such picturesque scenery, it’s easy to be lulled by the waving palms and clean beaches, but the memory of the devastating 2004 tsunami lingers. Just off the coast, portions of the old road could be seen in the sparkling surf. Memorials could be found in every town and park we’d visited. Cemeteries were full of tombstones constructed from debris. Chunks of wrecked houses stood along the shore, now veiled by creeping vines. These somber markers were a reminder that behind this natural paradise was a grim and difficult past.

For our final day we again awoke at sunrise, this time to travel by tuk tuk to the harbor in Mirissa to set sail with Raja and the Whales, a tour company I found professional, knowledgeable, and friendly. They located a trio of blue whales and brought us in close without disrespecting the giant creatures’ space. Before heading to the airport we popped by the Kosgoda Turtle Hatchery, which was obliterated in 2004 and rebuilt thanks to donations. After sunset, we brought precious three-day-old turtles to the seashore and watched them scamper from our hands towards the pounding surf that called them home.

Alongside its layered history and colorful culture, Sri Lanka nurtures a rich and varied natural world: feisty fruit and serene landscapes, safaris in prairies and at sea, cool peaks and steamy beaches. We easily could have spent a week in every place we visited. I’m already planning my second trip.

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Alternative Expat Hotspots

Published on October 1, 2013 in the Singapore American Newspaper:

For a Friday or Saturday night out, the lure of Singapore’s expat hubs is hard to deny. The glitter of the clubs and the ambience of the pubs, the platters of bar food and the heavy steins of beer, the loud music and the reflection of the lights on the river’s surface… Unfortunately, it is equally hard to deny the dent these hubs can make in your wallet. Luckily this city has a seemingly endless amount of hidden gastronomic gems just waiting for you to explore. Whether you are looking to impress your visitors with your local know-how or are just in the mood for a less-touristy but still centrally located spot for dinner, the following suggestions are sure to make for a great night out.

Instead of Boat Quay…

When my in-laws visited a year ago, my husband took them along the glitzy strip of Boat Quay and then through the back to an open-air hawker center called BK Eating House, which sits behind the bars at 21 South Bridge Road. Though the plastic tables and fluorescent lighting didn’t impress my in-laws much, the specialty dry mee sua from the Yan Kee stall sure did. Not only do they claim to this day that it was the best meal they had during their time in Singapore, at $3.50 a bowl it was also the cheapest. And since the cost of one beer at a bar on the river will get you three beers at BK Eating House, it’s easy to forgive its artless appearance.

BK Eating House

Instead of Chijmes…

Instead of paying for expensive cocktails within the walls of Chijmes, stroll two blocks over to Standing Sushi Bar at 8 Queen Street. There are a plethora of good Japanese restaurants but I have yet to find one that rivals this lively restaurant. A stone’s throw from the Singapore Art Museum, Standing Sushi offers exceptionally fresh sashimi as well as an enormous selection of sake. Every weeknight features a different promotion (50% off sushi, sashimi, and alcohol, anyone?) but the prices are reasonable even without them. However, you will want to get there either before or after the peak dinner time as the restaurant doesn’t take reservations and the line outside can get pretty long.

Instead of Clarke Quay…

Across the river from the theme park-esque Clarke Quay, the Central Mall houses a barely marked bistro you won’t want to miss. You may have heard of No Signboard, dubbed as such because when it was a single stand in a hawker center in the 1970s, the founders simply couldn’t afford a signboard. Back then seafood wasn’t commonly sold in hawker centers but their unique crab recipes attracted much attention and today No Signboard has six branches, one of which is hidden in a corner on the fourth floor of the Central. A far cry from the original stall, this particular outlet is elegantly decorated and sports large windows that look out at Clarke Quay over the river. While you’ll have to try the famous chili crab or white pepper crab (which you buy by the kilogram), I also highly recommend the sliced mushrooms with abalone sauce over rice.

Instead of Robertson Quay…

For inexpensive wine and tasty food, it is hard to beat Wine Connection at Robertson Quay but if you’re looking for a real contender, check out the triple threat of The Foundry, Baan Khun Nai, and The Burger Office. All can be found sharing the same space at 18 Mohamed Sultan Road, the atmosphere of which can only be described as beach-like, eclectic, and relaxed. The Foundry prides itself on its choice selection of Belgian craft beers (I suggest a pint of the Kronenbourg 1664 Blanc). Baan Khun Nai serves up classic and succulent Thai food. And The Burger Office, as expected, specializes in straightforwardly delicious beef burgers. Mix and match as you please!

It’s easy for smaller restaurants to get overshadowed by the bright lights of the Quays but these homegrown alternatives make for a more authentic (and generally less costly) meal than what the tourist hubs tend to offer. However, they are also close enough to the parties that you can wander over after you’ve eaten, if you’re still in the mood.

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Division and Illusions in North Korea, the World’s Most Inexplicable Nation

Published on September 3, 2013 in Young & Global Magazine:

Arch of Reunification

On an overcast afternoon in August, I stood on the upper balcony of Panmungak, the main North Korean building in the Joint Security Area (JSA) of the Korean Demilitarized Zone (DMZ), gazing over narrow, blue buildings. Dead center between Panmungak and the South Korean building called the Freedom House Pagoda, I could see the thick line of concrete that splits the two Koreas. Though we were a mere 70 kilometers from Seoul, it felt like we were on another planet.

Miss Choi, our tour guide, appeared at my elbow. She was a curvy North Korean woman in her thirties, but beyond that I won’t describe her or provide her real name lest I unwittingly get her into trouble. With a placid smile on her face, she led our group down the stairs, out of Panmungak, and across the quiet compound to the squat cyan buildings.

The JSA is used by the two Koreas for diplomatic engagements, but on that day it was devoid of life, save for stiff soldiers and nonchalant sparrows. Since visitors are forbidden from interacting with tourists from the other side, the area operates on something of a timeshare. As we explored the sparse negotiation space that sat squarely on the demarcation line, Miss Choi recited historic moments and explained that the main obstacle to the reunification of the Korean peninsula was the posting of American troops at the DMZ.

“Our country is divided. But maybe one day soon you can have breakfast in Pyongyang, lunch in Kaesong, and dinner in Seoul,” she finished wistfully.

The members of our tour group glanced at each other, but no one moved to put forth a conflicting opinion. Two days earlier, in the Beijing airport, a representative from Koryo Tours had warned us to expect such discrepancies. North Koreans have a genuine pride in their country, he had explained, and though they know Westerners have different versions of their country’s history, they simply believe we’re lying. Or ignorant. After all, why would our version of history be truer than what they’ve been told their whole lives? Would you believe a North Korean who told you Abraham Lincoln was a Nazi?

It was in Beijing—one of only four airports in the world that can fly you to North Korea—where I had first met the small group of adventurous travelers who would be my companions on this trip. I knew nothing about these people except that they were expats working in Singapore, and their curiosity about North Korea matched my own. It must, because we would be among only 3,000 or 4,000 non-Chinese tourists to visit the reclusive nation that year. For me, although I had moved to Singapore a mere five days earlier to reunite with my fiancé after a six-month separation, I was curious enough to take this trip he had planned, even if wasn’t quite the romantic reunion vacation I was expecting.

The representative from Koryo Tours had also given us guidelines for our visit. We were not allowed to photograph construction sites or people, and we were forbidden from wandering away from our guide. While it wasn’t impossible to sneak photos or creep off to out-of-bounds areas, Miss Choi had the power to restrict the planned activities for our trip if she judged our group to be unruly. Most importantly, later she would be the one to pay for any and all of our misbehavior. So we mindfully asked whether pictures were permitted and followed her like quiet schoolchildren.

View of Freedom House Pagoda and Joint Security Area from North Korean side

Freedom House Pagoda and Joint Security Area viewed from the DPRK side of the DMZ

A short drive from the DMZ, a military lookout point stood at the peak of a hill, which our secondhand tour bus struggled to climb. Inside the little building, a North Korean colonel in full uniform gave us a history lesson in front of a large painted map. He then gestured for us to follow him outside, where a row of telescopes allowed us to peer out at the peaceful, grassy landscape, riddled with silent landmines. Beyond a tiny wall marking the border, military bases flew South Korea’s flag. I only half-listened to the colonel’s stilted English; I was skeptical of the veracity of his facts and more interested in studying his appearance. With his large cap and swamp green military garb, he resembled a Chinese officer from the 1960s. I noticed that his bars of honor were actually a multicolored square of plastic, and I wondered if he had seen a picture of a decorated official and endeavored to appear equally important. Affixed directly above this facsimile was a red, flag-shaped pin that featured Kim Il Sung’s smiling face.

Every adult I had seen in North Korea sported this red pin on his or her left breast, sometimes accompanied by a second red pin featuring the image of Kim Jong-il. Miss Choi said the pins were worn simply out of a desire to show respect; there was no mention of compulsion. However, I later learned that the law used to be: forget to wear your pin once, receive a warning; forget it a second time and face punishment.

Much like the colonel’s illusion of military honor, I discovered that the nearby city of Kaesong was also designed to appear more than it was. Houses of solid concrete had brick patterns painted on their exteriors, and concrete walls sported motifs to mimic stone ones. Kaesong was the only city to change control from South to North Korea because of the Korean War. As such, it is the southernmost city in North Korea. Its name translates to “Triumph”, but it is a town of worn buildings and of families fractured by the 38th Parallel.

Atop a hill, a towering bronze figure of Kim Il Sung gazed down a steep road into the little city. Despite the fact that we arrived into Kaesong at 5:30pm and rush hour was in full swing, the streets were scantily populated. As we would for all dinners on the trip, we ate in a nice restaurant filled with only Western tourists, and it soon became apparent that the locals didn’t make a habit of eating out. We slept in a traditional inn, sleeping under mosquito nets in the heavy darkness of North Korea’s nightly nationwide blackout.

The following day, the drive from Kaesong to the capital of Pyongyang took two hours on Reunification Highway, which had no lane lines, but was peppered with guarded checkpoints. Except for the occasional truck or other tour bus, the highway was empty. Tunnels were devoid of lighting. Cornfields lined the road, as well as flat plains in all shades of green and brown merging into distant mountains. We passed tanned men and women on bicycles, brown cows tied up to graze, children bathing in shallow rivers. It’s easy to forget in such a strange country –especially one so ideologically at odds with the Western world – that people are just people everywhere.

A plush pink charm of the whole Korean peninsula swung from the bus’s rearview mirror as Miss Choi gave us lessons on her country’s history and culture. Once again I was struck not only by the bizarre interpretations of historical events but how much weight they still carried in the present. It seemed to me that the people of North Korea obsessively clung to past slights and lorded over past triumphs, while the rest of the world had long since moved on.

The history North Koreans tell is an idealistic, childlike version of the world. Their heroes are brave, their leaders compassionate and wise, their enemies evil and uncomplicated. The big questions have been answered unambiguously. But looking out over the serene landscape I wondered about the people starving somewhere hidden from view. Did they still love their country, their Eternal President, their Great General? Or was the illusion shattered? Were they heartbroken?

Before arriving in Pyongyang, we pulled over to admire the Arch of Reunification, which straddled the highway itself. The concrete monument consisted of two women in traditional Korean dress—one representing the North and the other the South—leaning forward to jointly uphold a sphere emblazoned with the complete land of Korea.

Looking at the Arch, I didn’t know where the future would take this inexplicable nation, but I knew it wouldn’t be to the joyous and peaceful reunification the North Koreans were convinced was imminent. I also knew that anything I said to the contrary would at best fall on deaf ears, and at worst endanger the safety of our sweet-natured tour guide, so I simply took a photograph of the monument before we moved on.

Young & Global Magazine

 

“The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet” & Wasabi Cocktail Sausages

Recently posted over at PAPER/PLATES is my article about The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet, the latest novel from David Mitchell (author of Cloud Atlas), and the fusion party food recipe it reminded me of. PAPER/PLATES is run by my friend Amina Elahi and it features book reviews, delicious recipes, and (the best part) recipes inspired by books.

Here’s a snippet of my post:

Mitchell seamlessly alternates between the protagonists’ starkly different perspectives: Jacob’s pious, well-meaning but often clumsy standpoint; Ogawa’s careful balance of personal desires and societal demands; and Orito’s feminine strength and fierce will to survive. The author paints rich pictures of both Dutch and Japanese interpretations of the state of the world in the 18th century, which means one thing: fusion recipe. And since Mitchell doesn’t skimp on the tiny details, I thought something that required a bit of finesse was in order. Dejima was built to constrain foreign traders as part of Japan’s self-imposed isolationist policy, and this recipe delightfully mimics that concept by constraining European sausages in Asian ingredients: wasabi and spring onion.

You can read the rest of the article and find the Wasabi Cocktail Sausages recipe HERE.

And make sure to check out the rest of the blog while you’re at it!

PAPER/PLATES

Top Five Travel Tips for Exploring Asia

Published on August 1, 2013 in the Singapore American Newspaper:

Cameron Highlands, Malaysia

There are plenty of reasons why Singapore is a great place to live. One of them is how easy it is to leave for a short break. Changi Airport has consistently topped lists of the world’s best airports for the last two decades and those with residency status move through it very quickly, but there are still a number of obstacles that can trip you up when setting off to explore Southeast Asia. To help you avoid my mistakes and oversights, here are my top five tips for newcomers to Singapore who are looking to discover the riches of the continent around us.

Number One: Visas!

Visa costs and requirements vary greatly throughout Asia, so right after (or even before) you buy your flight tickets, hit the website of your destination’s embassy to figure out what you’ll need. Many nations surrounding Singapore will allow you to buy an On-Arrival Tourist Visa but some require a Letter of Approval from the local embassy to do this and most can only be purchased in American dollars (and sometimes only in new bills). There can also be extra requirements, like a minimum number of blank passport pages. Bottom line: do your research in advance and prevent a debacle at the airport.

Number Two: Know the Health Risks

Malaria is a year-round risk throughout Southeast Asia but it needn’t prevent you from going where you want to go. A general physician in Singapore can usually provide anti-malarial tablets but be aware that you have to start the regimen a few days before your trip, so give yourself enough time. However, the most frequently reported illness among visitors to Southeast Asia is the highly unglamorous traveler’s diarrhea. While abroad, one of my greatest joys is trying dishes in restaurants frequented by the locals but this can admittedly be risky. So, there are a few rules of thumb to keep in mind when it comes to chowing down. Don’t drink or brush your teeth with the local water. Be sure to check that the seals of any bottles of water you buy are unbroken. Don’t eat raw fruits or vegetables as they have likely been washed in the local water; the exception is fruit you peel, like bananas or oranges. Be wary of how foods with a high risk of salmonella—like eggs or chicken—are prepared; opt for fried instead of steamed or boiled if you’re uncertain.

Number Three: Take More Cash than You Think You’ll Need

I will be the first to confess that I rely far too much on a credit card and not enough on cash. Take my word for it: it is no fun wasting your precious time in an exotic paradise desperately searching for an ATM. But even if you’re not me and you calculate your trip’s expenses down to the penny and take out enough foreign notes in advance, there will always be an unexpected cost somewhere down the line. For example, did you know you need to pay an airport tax in cash when you leave Indonesia?  So, in addition to taking way more money than you need, I would also suggest you don’t exchange your extra baht, dong, or kip until you’re safely back on Singaporean concrete, where at least the fees will be in a currency you’re used to.

Number Four: Invest in a Necessities Kit

It’s easier to have a little travel bag of necessities on hand instead of rifling through your cabinets for 100ml toiletries before every trip. Ideally an essentials kit for Southeast Asia should include: sunscreen, insect repellant, Purell, painkillers, band aids, anti-malarials, Pepto Bismal or the equivalent, wet wipes, toothpaste, toothbrushes, extra medication and miniature versions of your normal routine (shampoo, face wash, shaving cream, etc.). And don’t forget the number one necessity: tissues. Much of Southeast Asia operates on a system of BYO toilet paper and you will come to cherish the packets of tissues you cleverly brought with you.

Singapore’s pharmacies are pretty good about carrying travel-sized toiletries, which were once a convenience and are now a necessity if you want to step foot on a plane without checking a bag. And when you’re only flying a few hours to stay for a few days it is worth neither the hassle nor the cost to check a bulky piece of luggage. Pack sparingly and smartly.

Number Five: Relax

I’ve heard a lot of scary stories about Asia from a lot of people who’ve never been. I actually had a friend frantically warn me about a disease in Papua New Guinea that causes a person to laugh themselves to death. A quick internet search revealed that this disease is transmitted via cannibalism, which I don’t generally practice. What I have found from traveling around Asia is a lot of breathtaking sights, delicious food and friendly people.

There has yet to be a country I regret visiting. Sure, the salmonella poisoning in Myanmar wasn’t all that fun, but the Burmese were some of the most genuinely sweet people I have ever met. It’s up to you what you get out of travel. Not every trip will go completely to plan (actually I can guarantee that almost none of them will) but if you keep an open mind and an adventurous spirit, there also won’t be a single trip you don’t learn something about yourself from.

Happy travels!

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A Chronicle of St. Andrew’s Cathedral

Published on August 1, 2013 in the Singapore American Newspaper:

Surrounded by Singapore’s glittering malls, the white spire of St. Andrew’s Cathedral sticks out like a grandmother at a sweet sixteen party. And much like a grandmother, the church has been witness to a long and layered history. But rather than becoming obsolete amidst the rapidly developing shopping centers and trendy restaurants, St. Andrew’s has proven itself to be quite capable of evolving and adapting without losing sight of its mission.

In many ways, St. Andrew’s is a bastion of Singapore’s history. Though there is no burial ground at the church site, plaques line the walls of the main hall in memory of soldiers, nurses, and civilians from almost every conflict: from the mutiny of February 1915 through the Pacific War, during which the cathedral acted as an emergency hospital before the country fell to the Japanese in 1942. Regardless of one’s religious affiliation, it is hard to deny the important role St. Andrew’s has played throughout this island nation’s past. For example, in 1842 the church assisted in founding what is present-day St. Margaret’s, the very first all-girls school in Southeast Asia, despite widespread opposition to the young girls’ removal from slavery and to the education of women in general.

The story of St. Andrew’s began in 1823 when Sir Raffles chose the site of the cathedral to be the location of Singapore’s first Anglican church. The building was completed a decade later and named for the patron saint of Scotland due to the large contributions made by local Scottish businessmen. However, this original building was struck by lightning twice in 1838 and, deemed unsafe, it was demolished. The present building was consecrated in 1862, which made last year the cathedral’s 150th birthday. Although Christian congregations have recently been shrinking worldwide, St. Andrew’s still has a robust community of between 5,000 and 6,000 regular patrons who attend services at a variety of times in a variety of languages. During the late 1990s St. Andrew’s actually found itself unable to accommodate the growing volume of churchgoers, but since the site had been declared a national monument in 1973, no additions could be made to the church structure. Therefore it was decided that an underground worship hall would be built to service the growing congregation. Completed in 2005 the Cathedral New Sanctuary is a modern chapel kept cool underneath the Welcome Centre, which is snuggled up to the City Hall MRT entrance.

Like Singapore itself, the church is an amalgamation of international influences and it has consistently integrated both new technologies and diverse cultures. The neo-gothic architecture is distinctly English. The reredos (an ornamental alabaster screen with a mosaic depicting the birth of Jesus) was crafted in Italy. The sturdy wooden pulpit was made in Sri Lanka back when it was still called Ceylon. Each page of the Bibles nestled in the pews is split in half with English on one side and Mandarin on the other. St. Andrew’s is over a century older than the Republic of Singapore and acts as a living chronicle of the nation’s history. Hopefully this dynamic cathedral will continue to be an indomitable part of the cityscape for many years to come, regardless of the gleaming skyscrapers that spring up around it.

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The Illusion of Pyongyang

Published on July 1, 2013 in the Singapore American Newspaper:

“You will leave with more questions than answers,” the representative from Koryo Tours said brightly. We were in a café in the Beijing airport, one of only four airports that will fly you into Pyongyang, and we were all listening closely as she instructed us on what not to do after arriving in North Korea.

“Do not insult or criticize the Kims, even as a joke. North Koreans are genuinely very proud of their country and they revere their leaders. Ask before you take any pictures. It’s up to your Korean tour guides how much you’re allowed to see and if you’re sneaking photos you’re not supposed to, they can easily restrict where you go. Plus, you might get them into real trouble if you break the rules. The better behaved you are, the more they’ll trust you and the more you’ll be allowed to do. No wandering off on your own or leaving the hotel unsupervised. Though I doubt that will be much of a problem… The Yanggakdo Hotel is on an island in the middle of the Daedong River.”

Almost every tour in the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK) is coordinated by the government-run Korean International Travel Company and it was their guides who met us at Pyongyang’s barebones airport to escort us to this infamous hotel. It is one of the city’s most well-known and these days it is regularly packed with Chinese and Western visitors, including a smattering of Americans. The DPRK began allowing American passport holders to obtain tourist visas in 2010 and since then, the country has become an intriguing destination for adventurers longing to escape the beaten path. However, Americans are still a minority among tourists and as North Koreans are regularly coached in the evildoings of the “U.S. imperialist aggressors,” Americans more than other visitors tend to be peppered with questions by their guides.

Nowhere is this anti-Americanism more apparent than in the rusting hull of the USS Pueblo, which is an American technical research ship captured in 1968 and currently docked in the Pyongyang Harbor as a floating museum. Visitors are treated to a brief film that summarizes the 11-month foreign policy debacle that followed the vessel’s capture and proudly concludes that after President Johnson begrudgingly issued a letter of apology, “the world unanimously agreed that the reign of the U.S. Imperialists had been shattered.” As I clambered off the ship, I wracked my brain, trying to remember if I had learned anything at all about the USS Pueblo incident in school. As far as I could tell, the issue had been mostly forgotten about. Despite the regular teaching of American and Japanese atrocities, as we were led around the sparse city our group was frequently hailed by uniformed children calling out cheerful greetings in English. Thanks to its mandatory, free education the DPRK has one of the highest literacy rates in the world.

Arirang Mass Games

Not only are all citizens taught basic English in school, adults are highly encouraged to continue their education at Pyongyang’s central library, the Grand People’s Study House. We peeked in on a class and saw one of the only computers we would see in the country (running Windows 97) with an example sentence on the monitor that read: “How much do these weapons cost?” These undertones of discontinuity are what make Pyongyang a captivating and slightly unnerving travel destination. Just when you start to think you understand the city or presume that it’s not so different from other major cities after all, you find nothing is as it seems. You realize there isn’t a single advertisement anywhere. Or you notice that what appeared to be a stone wall is actually solid cement with a stone motif painted on by hand. Or you grasp that a capital city of this size should have a far larger population bustling about. All of this adds up to give Pyongyang the atmosphere of a movie set, especially since much of what you are allowed to see has been carefully prepared or vetted in advance.

As in all stores, factories, concert halls, subway cars, and so forth, in the classroom at the Grand People’s Study House a pair of portraits kept watch over us all. Kim Il-Sung and Kim Jong-Il are omnipresent. Every monument depicts one or both of them. Every war memorial makes reference to them. Every museum is either about their lives or named after them. Their faces look out at you from pins on the chest of every adult you see. Orchestral musicians at the crescendo of a performance in the Moranbong Theatre cry out an accolade to the Kims. Colossal mosaics illustrating their deeds stand tall, colorful, and clean amidst Pyongyang’s shabby apartment buildings. But undoubtedly the most spectacular tribute to the Kim dynasty is the Arirang Mass Games.

Held in the world’s largest stadium, it is described on the Koryo Tours website as “a synchronized socialist-realist spectacular, featuring over 100,000 participants in a 90 minute display of gymnastics, dance, acrobatics, and dramatic performance, accompanied by music and other effects, all wrapped in a highly politicized package.” It’s breathtaking to experience the live performance, the immensity of which videos fail to capture. 20,000 schoolchildren fill the half of the stadium opposite the audience and use colored squares to create a fluid series of background images. Meanwhile, in the foreground, endless waves of singing women, flying ribbons, marching men, multi-colored banners, children on unicycles, and at one point giant pig puppets pantomime historical events, such as how the DPRK’s military triumphed over the U.S. and South Korea in the ‘Fatherland Liberation War’ and of how Kim Jong-Il singlehandedly modernized the agricultural industry. It is a glorious, hour and a half long homage to an almost completely false history.

The Mass Games—like the rest of Pyongyang’s proud displays—reveal not only how accepted this alternate Kim-centered view of the past is but also how fastidiously celebrated and respected it is. As a tourist, there is very little you can say to alter their views. After all, would you believe a foreigner who told you that everything you learned all your life about your country’s history from your parents and schoolteachers is completely wrong? The only thing you can do is politely observe and genuinely marvel at the show. You will leave with more questions than answers.

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“Kitchen” & Mom’s Chicken Divan

 

Recently posted over at the super awesome blog PAPER/PLATES is my article about Banana Yoshimoto‘s short novel Kitchen and how it reminds me of my favourite chicken dinner from childhood. PAPER/PLATES is run by my friend Amina Elahi and it features book reviews, delicious recipes, and (the best part) recipes inspired by books.

Here’s a snippet of my post:

What is remarkable about Kitchen is that it manages to explore the many facets of loss without being a depressing story. Grief is revealed to be simple actions and complex reactions. It is depicted as a lingering emotion in a world that eventually succeeds in pulling us forward. It neither validates nor invalidates who we are and what we believe in. Whenever I feel tragedy is overplayed in movies and underplayed in the news, I return to this refreshing reminder that grief is a part of all our lives but it is not the only part.

You can read the rest of the article and find the chicken divan recipe here.

And make sure to check out the rest of the blog too!

PAPER/PLATES

Up a Creek With a Paddle

Published on May 1, 2013 in the Singapore American Newspaper:

Kayaks on Jurong Lake

If spending time outdoors in Singapore’s oppressive heat seems daunting to you, I suggest venturing out onto water. Luckily, you don’t have to brave the ocean or submit to the rigorous routines of dragon boating in order to enjoy skimming across the water’s surface. Kayaking around Singapore’s peaceful, contained reservoirs can sometimes feel like paddling around a fishbowl and the more adventurous among you might prefer to tackle the salty coasts to venture to nearby islands. But the reservoirs are ideal for young or inexperienced boatmen and they can offer unique views of the familiar skyline. Plus, it is hard to deny how refreshing an afternoon on calm water can be.

Water-Venture’s branch in the Kallang Riverside Park is a welcoming, clean facility that’s well stocked with all sizes of paddles and life jackets. The efficient staff members got us on the water in less than twenty minutes for less than $20 a person and were even friendly enough to laugh at my dad’s jokes. There are a number of other locations where beginners and experts alike can rent a kayak—the Bedok Reservoir, Jurong Lake, the Lower Selator Reservoir, Changi Beach, Marina Bay, Sembawang Park—but Kallang is the favorite location among schools for training their kayaking teams. On weekends, the basin is regularly flooded with colorful clusters of boats but on an overcast Tuesday afternoon, we shared the waters with just one other kayaker and two duckboats, loaded with tourists who gleefully waved at us.

Buffeted by warm breezes and cooled by splashes of water, we paddled leisurely and took time to gaze up at Millenia Tower and Suntec City from novel angles. From this new perspective, the Marina Bay Sands hotel was completely framed by the gargantuan Singapore Flyer and the rolling glass domes of the Gardens by the Bay shimmered in the clouded light. The East Coast Parkway flew overhead but, except for the distant sounds of construction, it was surprisingly quiet.

If you’re eager to explore a less familiar part of Singapore, the suburbs that surround Jurong Lake feel like a friendly town far away from the crush of Orchard’s malls and the crowds that fill the CBD. Pack a picnic basket, a book, and a change of clothes in case you get doused while kayaking, and you could easily spend a whole day at the sanctuary of Jurong Lake Park. To test these waters, we rented sit-on-top kayaks since neither of us had the certificate of training required to rent a closed boat.

If it hadn’t been for the breeze the lake would have been utterly still. Plus it is generally even less crowded than the Kallang Basin, making it the perfect location for inexperienced or nervous kayakers. While floating on the peaceful waters we took in the sights of the Chinese Garden, the vibrant and tall pagodas, the MRT swooping above the dense treetops, and the apartment complexes that peppered the landscape. Unfortunately, not too long after we had paddled out onto the reservoir, a threatening storm sent down a bolt of lightning in the distance and an alarm called us back to shore.

Though this activity may not intrigue paddlers used to white rapids in thick jungles, urban kayaking is nevertheless an unexpected way to see the sights of the city, as well as a refreshing way to exercise outdoors in a tropical climate. Just make sure to bring plenty of sunscreen, a few bottles of water, and a willingness to get splashed.

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In the Shadows of Myanmar’s Golden Stupa: New Friends in Old Places

Published on April 23, 2013 in Young & Global Magazine:

Shwezigon Pagoda, Nyaung-U

In the dry heat of the late morning, the gold Shwezigon Pagoda shone blindingly bright against the fierce blue sky. It was February, the very beginning of Myanmar’s blistering summer, and the day was only going to get hotter. Regardless, the compound surrounding the gilt stupa was busy with barefoot visitors. At the giant structure’s base, local women kneeled on cool white tiles or sat on thin mats to pray. Little boys scampered around in packs. Tourists encumbered by cameras gazed up at the elaborate peaks of the various shrines. A dog slumbered in the shade.

Many of the women and children had a yellowish-white paste applied to their faces in a circular patch on each cheek. I knew Myanmar was primarily a Buddhist country and I wondered whether the markings had a religious significance.

A trio of young girls sporting this face paint approached me arm-in-arm and greeted me in English. Like every other local I had seen, they all wore the traditional longyi (a piece of cloth tied around the waist that falls to the ankles) in vivid floral patterns. However on top they wore a variety of shirts not unlike ones I could pick up in an American Target store.

“Hi,” I responded, curious but a little wary. Were they going to ask for money?

“We are students of English. Is it okay if we talk to you so to practice?”

I nodded, with a smile.

Their names were like knotted silk scarves: long and full of soft syllables. I could never hope to pronounce them properly and, out of shyness, I didn’t ask them to repeat them.

The girls at the Shwezigon Pagoda

The ringleader of the little trio had dark shoulder-length hair and a ready smile. “Do you have any questions about our country?” She queried.

“I do, actually. What is the meaning of your face paint?”

She laughed and patted her cheeks. “It is thanaka! To protect from the sun!”

We spent a few minutes chatting about where we came from, and I played them a video on my phone of my teenaged brother in my family’s kitchen in New Jersey last winter. Several feet of snow had walled us in, burying our cars and patio furniture. My new friends marveled at the expanse of white visible outside our windows and they giggled as they proclaimed my brother very handsome.

“Can I be sister-in-law?” The ringleader asked cheekily, causing her friends to squeal and hush her.

“Oh absolutely,” I replied, sending them into peals of laughter.

They were eager to improve their English and pulled out paper notebooks emblazoned with advertisements for the upcoming Twilight movie. I shook my head in amazement. Only six months earlier the Myanmar government had announced that it would cease censoring media before publication, and already Twilight had arrived.

I knew many of the locals refused to acknowledge the country’s name as Myanmar, but when I complimented the beautiful looping letters of written Burmese, the girls shyly corrected me: Myanmar language, not Burmese. Perhaps they were too young to remember Burma before the military junta tightened its grip on the government and isolated the nation from the rest of the world.

The girls’ English writing was neat, peppered with well-rounded a’s and cleanly crossed t’s. The vocabulary lists meticulously written into their flimsy notebooks were curious amalgamations that gathered seemingly unconnected words into one category. One such list contained: elbow, disseminate, max, meander, price tag, and nullify.

I was doing my best to explain how Americans and British idioms were quite different when I noticed “That sucks” was on their list.

“Now that is a useful idiom,” I said with a laugh.

They flipped through several pages, stopping to ask me the correct way to pronounce “I’ve” and to verify the accuracy of their lists of idioms, which some English-speaking tourists didn’t seem to know.

In the shadow of a golden stupa built in 1102 AD, we traded email addresses. Then, promising to stay in touch, we went our separate ways.

In the coming years those girls will undoubtedly see their homeland move through unimaginable changes. The tourism industry is exploding at a startling rate and the local people will have to safeguard their culture against the tide of Hollywood movies, Western fashions, and convenient modern alternatives. But this amicable trio of girls, so eager to learn the English of their visitors, will also have a broader array of opportunities than they’ve ever had before.

Young & Global Magazine

 

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