I am not only about to begin a new phase of life but all set to usher it in a new city. Emotionally, it has been taxing. For once, my heart, soul and feet are not ready to comply with my Gemini spirit and embrace the new and unknown. It is really difficult when you walk ten steps and begin panting, feel the lil being inside is hating it and it is time to hail a cab. It is even worse when for once in your life you want to follow a discipline, clean up your act and be a golden woman, but you can no way do it. How do you do it when you are packing up a house, keeping unearthly hours, moving into hotels and service apartments and gorging on everything that is not really healthy?
This is not exactly how a post from a new city should sound like. But I needed to get it out of my system before I could move on to anything else. I am not drowning into self pity but I am struggling to keep afloat until there is a semblance of the ordinary and mundane in my life again. In the meantime, I am happy to report that the one mall I explored on Orchard Road yesterday seemed promising shopping wise. Singapore is definitely expensive compared to Hong Kong and the feeling of awe that hits you as you make your way through Hong Kong's narrow and people-ridden streets is absent here. So is its chicness and glamour. But it is too soon to sign off my new home.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
How you got your name
I like poetry straight, stark but sensuously fulsome, and carrying a hint of tragedy, romance and earthiness. That is how I discovered Neruda and why I fell in love with him. In the mushy throes of my teen years, struggling for a poetic equivalent of that moment when eyes meet, the heart skips a beat and unknown stirrings besot you, my lifelong love for Neruda was ignited.
It is strange that when I could not afford to buy his volumes, I coveted them and when I can, I no more wish to possess them. For me, he makes sense when I touch the creased and severely underlined printouts I took of his poems. That’s how I like him and will always cherish him and that’s how this blog got its name.
(I just found the above bit in my drafts and I loved it. It might not make much sense but then what does on this blog )
It is strange that when I could not afford to buy his volumes, I coveted them and when I can, I no more wish to possess them. For me, he makes sense when I touch the creased and severely underlined printouts I took of his poems. That’s how I like him and will always cherish him and that’s how this blog got its name.
(I just found the above bit in my drafts and I loved it. It might not make much sense but then what does on this blog )
Adding some colour
The general lack of colour in Hong Kong is in some measure compensated by the brightly painted feeder ships, ferries and sampans cruising along the harbour. The bright orange, yellow, green and red reminds you instantly of Indian kitsch. Once I have more time, I am going to add here some more and better pictures to illustrate my point.
While there could be no hidden meaning behind the bright colours, apart from the instant attention they draw, I would like to believe they are somewhat symbolic of the hope and optimism that drove the fishing community, one of the earliest dwellers of Hong Kong. If you walk along the seafront in Shau Kei Wan, Aberdeen and I am sure many other areas, you can still see people living on boats. It must be a hard life for sure and would need lots of brightness and cheerfulness to survive (although I would not describe their dwellings, especially the ones I see in Shau Kei Wan, as colourful by any means). That spirit, I suppose, has somehow (maybe or maybe not) spread over to the maritime business as a whole.
My work desk next to a window gives me ample time to look at the sea all day. Since the office building is close to ship-repair yards and the typhoon shelter, I see all kinds of boats all day long. I especially look forward to catching the sight of Dung Ling or the dragon boat with red masts (I think that’s what they are called).
While there could be no hidden meaning behind the bright colours, apart from the instant attention they draw, I would like to believe they are somewhat symbolic of the hope and optimism that drove the fishing community, one of the earliest dwellers of Hong Kong. If you walk along the seafront in Shau Kei Wan, Aberdeen and I am sure many other areas, you can still see people living on boats. It must be a hard life for sure and would need lots of brightness and cheerfulness to survive (although I would not describe their dwellings, especially the ones I see in Shau Kei Wan, as colourful by any means). That spirit, I suppose, has somehow (maybe or maybe not) spread over to the maritime business as a whole.
My work desk next to a window gives me ample time to look at the sea all day. Since the office building is close to ship-repair yards and the typhoon shelter, I see all kinds of boats all day long. I especially look forward to catching the sight of Dung Ling or the dragon boat with red masts (I think that’s what they are called).
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