I am at the moment with Dim Sum

I longed for the breakfast that I will satisfy me – half-boiled eggs, slightly sweet and burnt tea and coconut jam toast (kaya toast). But I did not get a taste of it on the lazy Saturday morning. Instead, I had dumplings filled with juicy prawns (ha-kao), pork dumplings that had a large portion of meat (siumai) and egg tarts with crusts that will crumble when I bite through it, served by two middle-aged Chinese ladies who peppered the order conversation with Cantonese.

I was sceptical when my husband asked me to join him on his market trip. Unlike him, I’m not one that is fascinated by the myriad of raw ingredients and esoteric items sold in a market. Perhaps esoteric items may interest me, but I will be drawn to it for its relationship with the social setting it is placed in rather than its use as an ingredient in food. For example, I was drawn to the messy provision shop run by old men that was amidst government-subsidised flats (HDB). As I did not have any errands to run at that time, and I did not have any urgency to start my to-do list for the day, I agreed to be the compliant partner who follows to the market because my husband wanted me to.

We conveniently drove to Cheng San market at Ang Mo Kio Ave 10 and found it easy to find a place to park. As I walked towards the market, I saw food stores on the left and the wet market on my right, with rows of shops patronised by people living in the neighbourhood in both. The pace of sauntering was slower there compared to other wet markets. People were sitting on coffee tables and purchasing ingredients for their family in the wet market. These people seem to be in the moment rather than checking off a task list for the day. I stood there observing the scene, and felt pleasant but slightly taken aback by the reality I was in. It was different from the goal-oriented task-completer that I have become.

I was drawn to the minced meat noodles (bak-chor-mee) store in front of me – it has been awhile since I had salty, spicy and tasty noodles. My husband gestured me to walk further down, as there were 10 times more stalls than what I saw in front of me. Obediently, I followed. He knows the market better than I. We agreed to reconvene after he bought ingredients from the wet market. I will buy breakfast for both of us.

I took my time to decide on the food that will be my lazy-morning breakfast. After all, it would take my husband longer to purchase ingredients for our house-warming party the following week than I would take to buy breakfast. The first food I decided to buy was the sweet sauce carrot cake (chai-tau-kueh). The transaction occurred rather swiftly. I then went on my noodle-hunt again. Perhaps there were tastier noodles than the minced meat noodles store.    

I saw a duck noodles store. They displayed pictures of food they were selling and they look good, and the uncooked noodles that I could see through their glass-window store were of good quality. Perhaps I was also drawn to the few newspaper blurbs that featured their stall, although if I was asked, I will be unwilling to admit to the Singaporean quality of eating food that has been socially-approved.  I then ordered a duck drumstick noodle from the couple who owned the store. An honest short conversation ensued.

“Is the dish S$5.00?” I asked, as the price displayed was blurred by a masking tape.

“No, it is S$5.50. If the duck drumstick came with noodles, it would cost S$1.00 more because the cost price of the noodles is already 50 cents. If it was paired with rice, it would be additional 50 cents,” she said, patiently explaining to me the reason for the price.

I was surprised by how revealing she was with her cost price. I suspect I hid my expression well, as she continued to explain her pricing scheme.

“Do you make the noodles yourself?” I asked.

“We order the noodles from a chef who specialises in making them. He makes noodles for hotels as well,” she said. I could see the pride in her face as she answered, tacitly acknowledging the qualities of her noodles.

“No wonder it is more expensive than normal noodles!” I quipped, having understood from my husband’s restaurant business that noodles per plate were not as expensive as 50 cents.

By then, her husband has prepared the noodles, and we thanked each other before I left.

I then walked passed a couple of rows of food stalls to go to the dim sum store. I love dim sum, but good ones are hard to find. I remembered that the dim sum from this market tasted good when my husband bought them for me about a month ago.

“Do you have ha-kao, siumai and dan-ta (egg tart)?” I asked in Mandarin.

“Yes, we do have, is that all?” the younger lady at the store asked.

I nodded my head. She then asked a next question, which I was delighted with. My delight came from a simple reason, as what she said was typical of what a food stall owner would ask.

“Sek asi pao?” she asked, wondering whether I was eating at the food stores or taking away.

I have not heard Cantonese spoke to me in a natural setting in Singapore when I order food from food store owners. I have experienced ordering food in Hokkien. They will reply in either Mandarin or English. This annoys me

, as it connotes that I cannot speak their language. It particularly ticks me off when they will speak English to me and when they turn back to talk to their family members making food, they will speak in Hokkien. There seems to be a barrier between customer and owner, a formality and professionalism that cannot be breached even when the mother tongue is used.

“Sek,” I happily answered, continuing the conversation in her mother tongue.

“Gei Doh Chin?” I asked her, wondering how much the three ha-kaos, three siumais and three egg tarts will cost.

“Gau Man,” the older lady answered, which is 9 dollars. It is more expensive than I thought it would be, but I willingly paid for it. Perhaps because I know it was of good quality, perhaps it was because I had a pleasant encounter with the two ladies. Perhaps it is for the “at-the-moment-ness” that I experience from the dim sum store and from the duck noodles store, something so rare in Singapore, yet so real to life. I walked away from the food store, with a slight discomfort in me. I long for these moments, yet have not experience it often in the past year. It probably speaks more of the dissonance in my character than the morning I experience. Thank you, food store owners for being nice. My half-boiled eggs, slightly sweet and burnt tea and kaya toast can wait another week.

Visiting Jakarta Praise Community Church

The church was big and wide. The hall was dark but was lit with bright colours. It has been almost a year since I stepped into a church that had disco-like lighting – purple, red and blue, all shining brightly at the same time. There was just enough light to see the vague shadows of Galvin and Rebekah, who were sitting on my left and right.

There were other people streaming into the hall behind us as we took out seats. The hall was approximately half filled then. Although it was dark, I could vaguely see that there were many black heads within the crowd. The church service predominantly attracts and serves a younger crowd. Those who had more white hair than black may have felt out of place. Incidentally, I felt a greater sense of belonging to the latter crowd. Perhaps I have not aged through the colour of my hair but in my outlook in life. I feel more at home in a well-lit hall and with coherent piano and guitar notes. Perhaps a Methodist church or a small independent church.

The show started and the music was too loud. So loud, that my heart started to thump at the beat of the music. I didn’t question whether these people were playing to fit the current-day drum-electric guitar band culture or to worship God, because I know regardless of the sound levels, I know that the singers on stage were sincere about their faith.

I did not doubt them because I was at that stage of my life once.

I used to attend a church that played modern band-like music. Two songs that had quicker beats were played first, followed by two songs with a slow tempo. I enjoyed it greatly, and every time each song played, I sang my heart out to God. “I will live, I will not die, the resurrection power of Christ…” I believe these words wholeheartedly. I will get into the mood of singing these songs and mean what the lyrics say, putting away the distractions in my head and my heart. Sometimes, God will speak to me though these songs. Take for example the song lyrics quoted just three sentences ago. There are weeks that I feel down or not spiritually satisfied. Perhaps I did not spend time with God, perhaps I was facing difficulty in my relationship with my family or perhaps I was spiritually attacked by the devil. But God will affirm that I am alive and well, and Christ is in me. The Christ that will give me strength. I felt uplifted just by listening to the melody or by reading the lyrics.

But this has become insufficient for me. I am not satisfied with my spiritual life just by singing those songs.

I want to sing songs that have a more concrete meaning. Not songs that just give me a spiritual boost. Not songs that just focus on my outlook of Christ. I want to sing songs that represent God’s character and the truth of the Bible, His Word. I want songs that not only affirm me, but also affirm His never-changing character. I also want the lyrics to explain why that is so. Prince of Peace. Son of God. God sent down His Son because He loves us. He died for us on the Cross. Perhaps a song like Nicole Mullen’s ‘Redeemer’ song. “I know my Redeemer lives…He lives to take away my shame”. Perhaps I want the words to be more descriptive of the story of Jesus Christ, rather than words that focuses on my emotions and needs.

I also prefer slower songs now. Songs that I can sing and take my time to absorb the meaning of the lyrics. Songs that make me feel at peace rather than excitable and pumped up.

Perhaps this reflects the stage of life I am in. I’ve searched and I’ve gained understanding in Christ. His character. God’s unfailing grace. And I want the songs that I sing reflect my updated understanding of God in me.

I believe in the love of Christ

The staircase that I climb everyday, spiraling down, is a metaphor of how I feel. Why do people misunderstand each other? Why the different intangible distances among humans? Carrying the weight of the world is emotionally exhausting. Sitting alone in a quiet room, immersing myself in such emotions is my illusion of feeling all the world's problems.

Yet, I remind myself that as a human being, and being a believer in Christ, I should exercise self-control (Gal 5:22-23). Instead of walloping myself in my deepest emotions, I want to step up and tell myself that it is okay, my emotions will heal. I should use my emotions for the good of people. I believe that I have been given this personality for a reason. (Yes, only a small % of people are INFJs) And with this confidence, anchor myself in the love of Christ, replacing self-induced sorrow with His unconditional love.

Armed with His love, I want to do anything and everything in Christ. 

HDB it is

What is getting married without a house?

I talked to an NZ friend, and she said that this is a very Asian concept. That the married couple should own a house. Well, I don't mind living like a hobo, moving from place to place and renting a room temporarily after getting married, but my fiancé wouldn't believe me.

And although I did not know it, God was with us in each step. He has revealed Himself, and has blessed us.

It started with the HDB Sales of Balance Flat (SBF) exercise in September 2012. My fiancé and I are mid-income family kids who had the luxury of living in a landed property in Singapore. No, our families ain't rich. Its the grandpops' houses. I'm used to living in a landed property. As such, I told him repeatedly ever since we got serious in the relationship that I do not want to stay in a HDB. They scare me.

 

 

Can you imagine living in one of these? Gazilliion 30 storey buildings, separated by a meter. Walking through the walkways, look up in the sky, and all you can see are towers. And you are not in the CBD!!! I'll have clinical anxiety due to claustrophobia. (Imagine myself taking a deep breath and never breathe out again.)

 

But on the other hand, I considered the reality. We can't afford to stay in a condo, with swimming pool and tennis courts - what more a landed property in Singapore. We are also unsure whether we would stay in Singapore for the long term. Should we buy a property then? Or should we just rent a room if we stay in Singapore?

 

Considering that it cost around SGD2,000 to rent a 5-room ulu HDB flat, and that the monthly payment for a 25 to 30 year mortgage is around there, we thought we should go ahead with the second option (the calculative mind is at work here...). And looking back, it is a good decision. Our combine income is below SGD10,000 now. HDB sets the limit of HDB purchasing to SGD10,000. Our income would exceed that in just a year or two.

 

And so, we decided to put in our application for the SBF exercise. There were two criteria for selection - size of unit and location. The size was decided quickly. I can't stay in a small unit, as I'm used to living in a big space. So 5-room it was. My fiancé is fine with most of my decisions, but will voice out when unreasonable. When we decided the location, it was a long drawn discussion. Ang Mo Kio? Queenstown? Bukit Merah? Kallang? These locations are all near to town. Any further location brought up and I'll complain non-stop.

 

But my faithful fiancé decided to pray about the location. (Oh why...) And after prayer, he said that God told him to go for Sengkang.

 

My heart dropped. Oh please. Of all areas? It's so far away...He then argued that the place I stay in Singapore is far away from town too, blah.

 

I respected him and his heart to pray, so we obeyed and went ahead to apply for a 5-room flat in Sengkang. To my delight and amazement, my fiancé proceeded fairly smoothly with all administration for application. I usually play the administrative role in the relationship, but because I'm not in Singapore now, it was better if he did took up the role in this task.

 

Two months after, we received the results of our application. We got queue no. 168. There were 114 5-room units in Sengkang. That means that if all units were selected before it reaches us, we do not have the option to select a Sengkang flat. Our selection date was March 14th 2013.

 

Ah well, good for us, I thought. We won't get a flat in Sengkang, and we can choose other areas nearer to town in the next HDB selection.

 

 In January 2013, we received another letter from HDB, with detailed information of each 114 5-room units in Sengkang. It also contained the application form and other declaration forms. I hastily signed them (just in case we got a unit) while we were in KL for a short trip. We didn't think much about it after that.

 

When people asked us about our HDB application, I'll just say we won't get the Sengkang flat as chances are slim, and would probably reapply.

 

By the end of February, it looked as if we stood a chance of selecting a flat. There were 60 units left! My fiancé and I quickly re-organised our thoughts, and thought about the possibility of getting a Sengkang flat.

 

Only if it were near the MRT...

 

We saw that there were around 11-12 of them that we would consider.

 

By the first week of March, the numbers dwindled. 45. 32. 27 units left. We got scared. What if we don't get one? (See what the demand-more-than-supply mentality does to us...we didn't even want a Sengkang unit in the first place >.<)  There was 2 units left that we would consider by then.

 

We were considering whether I'd need to go to Singapore. Statistically, we won't be able to get the units we considered. Units near the MRT get snapped up fast. But I told my fiancé, that even if there is one unit left, there is still a chance. And well, another excuse to go to Singapore.

 

And lo and behold. There was only one unit left two days before selection.

 

I arrived in Singapore a day earlier. And I went to check out the location of this one unit in the afternoon. It was at Buangkok, one MRT stop before Sengkang if you come from town. (I still can't help laughing still at the name. In Chinese, it is Ten Thousand Countries (万国). Why can't they call it something nicer in English?)

 

 

The HDB being built!

 

It was literally beside the MRT. I thought: wow, good then! We'll consider this unit! Its also at a quieter area of Singapore, which is good. I don't want to feel like I'm in Singapore when I'm staying here. (I'm living in denial, as I know the area would be developed sooner or later.)

 

Anyway, I went back home to check the unit number. My heart sank again. Second floor? Maybe not...

 

At night, my fiancé and I went to view a resale HDB. After that, I brought him to view the location of a few units still available from the Sengkang SBF. The other two units were ex-leased flats, so we went to see the actual location of them (So much for HDB's warning not to view the site as it may be under construction...)

 

It was a 1.5 hours walking around Sengkang. It was a fun and funny experience, knowing you have the choice of selecting certain houses at a subsidised price. Measuring the distance to MRT, noise level at night, traffic situation, buses available...

 

We finally decided that it would be okay staying at Buangkok. Or at least, own a unit there.

 

The next day, we went to HDB Hub together to select the unit. I was really thankful to God that I made the decision to go to Singapore. Both parties were needed to sign the papers, so we couldn't have purchase the HDB without each other.

 

Other things were also for us, and I can conclude that God has been with us throughout.

 

The price of the HDB is also affordable for us, just over SGD400,000.

 

Our CPF can fully cover the first 5% downpayment due 3 months later.

 

The HDB will be completed 3Q of 2014. We'll get to live like hobos for half a year, since we plan to get married in 1Q 2014.

 

We looked at a show flat for 5-room unit, and it was okay, a nice size. I think I can live in it.

 

I thank God for His faithfulness to us, that if we obey, He will bless. :)



Where's the $$?

I am surprised and shocked at how God works.

Just the past few days, I was struggling with giving additional amount of money to my mum based on an ambiguous stance. Not uncommon among others, I had the money, but was reluctant to give.

I agreed with my fiance. I did not have the peace in my heart. And should seek peace. One way was to give the money.

The next day I consulted my dad, and after a not-so-short session of lecturing, I thought that I should part with my $$.

(There were other arguments in between, but I finally gave the $$ to my mum. Despite the arguments, I felt happy/peace.)

I was calculating the $$ I have left. And realised that I recorded a wrong entry in my budget, and thus have RM500 more. *roll eyes, slap forehead*

The next day, I received an email saying that I have a 50 dollars voucher from Jetstar. (I sent them a feedback form early December on an issue. Their SOP is to get back in two weeks, but it took six. Voucher was for compensation)

I was shocked. Why does God arrange things in such a way. Parting with my money, but yet I gain. I gain, peace, more $$, and a voucher.

Turns out its not a SGD50 dollars voucher, but an AUD50 dollars voucher. ;)

Learnt a lesson...that accumulating wealth but not honouring God is not the best option...honouring God regardless of what is needed (including parting with $$) is the best. :) Hopefully more lessons to come then. 

New Year: Rest, you tired and weary!

Three days into the new year. That is all it takes to tell me that I have missed it. I have missed the first day of the year and what it symbolizes.

Towards the end of the year/the start of the new year (well, depends on which side of the year you are looking at), newspapers flash with the good and bad of 2012, and highlight the picture (a rather gloomy one indeed) of 2013. I'm definitely not one who will make 5 resolutions on January 1st, only to come to December 31st and realise that I haven't complete any of them. Cut me out of that category. But it seems as if I have missed something. Things pass by so fast from my trip to Jakarta in November till now, that I feel as if it has been since that I saw my fiance.

The last two weeks or so, I have been hearing the call from God to rest. Because I am tired and weary. But there was no time. Work, serving in church, meeting up with friends through this holiday season just took up time. Do. And do. And do again. Tiredness crept in. But fatigue came in like a bombshell. I collapsed (not literally).

Today, I took time off to sleep. Yes! I do not have the habit of sleeping enough. I have to cultivate it. And I feel better. The Holy Spirit in me has been talking to me through the book titled "Having A Mary Heart in A Martha World". God is longing to spend time with us. He is waiting. Step in please! He says. We are the branches and He is the vine (John 15:5). We are an extension of Him. And only in Him, can you find true peace and rest. Amen. 

I am not a Chinese, neither are you a Malay or an Indian

I feel cheated. To the core.

When I was in primary school, I remember my first year in class: Malaysia has three big races: Malay, Chinese, Indian. The size of the population of the race follows that order. All three big races live in harmony, a multi-racial country, tolerant of each other's traditions, beliefs, culture and customs.

My foot. I realised through conversations with colleagues and people I meet these past two weeks or so that many people in Malaysia are of mixed race. My colleague who is not from Penang mentioned that many Malays in Penang are not pure Malays. They are mixed with Indians or Chinese or other races. And when I start observing, I realised that what he said may be true.

Some Malays here are darker in colour. I assume that they are mixed with Indians. And I'm aware that some Malays here are mixed with Chinese. And according to Malaysia laws, these people with Malay blood are also categorised as Malay. Why isn't there an option of bi-racial? Or multi-racial, if that is what you want your country to be?

I attended a talk last Sunday on Indian migration to Penang in the 1700s and 1800s. And boy, Penang was the largest city out of Madras to have people from there! Many were traders and did not stay. But some did, and married the locals. Now that explains the kind of people you see in Penang.

And there are Arab-muslims as well, who come in 1700s. The Merican clan.

And other races (if that is even the most suitable word) came to Penang for trade. Those who stayed contributed to the multi-racial-ness of this region.

And who am I? Why am I categorised as Chinese? Why can't I be Teochew-Hokkien, or whatever my mum and dad is? I'm fully aware that the categorisation of the Chinese race only came in the 20th century. Probably to unite people from China who come from different places, reducing tension among the groups. But in these days, I feel the over-generalisation of people categorised as Chinese dilutes the identity of people.

People in this region probably have grandparents/ancestors who are Thai/Arab/Indian/Indonesian due to the travels that people did in the past. Those who are categorised as "Malay" or "Indian" or "Chinese" may not belong to just one race. And why should they? Mixed marriages should be celebrated, and so should their children. And isn't that the real representation of the people in this region, of Malaysia?

Not the best, but perfect

It (probably) all started when I got all stressed at work because I was (and still am) doing many things. And I took a short trip to Singapore to see my prospective other half. No, I didn't throw a tantrum (or much of it) there. But I was with with most of the time. And it took some getting used to.

Surprisingly (or not), after I came back in June, we've been seeing each other with two-week intervals until September. Don't ask me how it happened, there were just trips here and there that made up for it. Then came late October, and that was a gap of five weeks.

I had fun there, but I was still tired at the end of the trip. Not enough sleep I think. So when I went back to work on Monday, I was utterly overflowing with sleep debt.

His family came to Penang for three days, a nice last minute visit. And so I got to see him again. So that makes a consecutive six days.

May be due to tiredness, I felt that I wanted to go back to Sg, cus he is there most of the time for now.

We quarrelled when he was here, and yes, although I know that I'm committed to him, that doesn't make quarrels any less.

Now, I feel my post is so rambling-like, my mind is unfocused!

I do wonder how I can put up being with him. And I'm sure he does wonder how he can stand my tantrums. But one thing to know in relationships? You don't need to be the best. You just need to be perfect, for each other. :) And work on it!