Kits, Cats, Sacks and Wives

I've just started taking my mother for walks down the East Coast Park. We will go for a short walk of about half an hour (vigorous for me, less so for her). On one of these outings, we found a whole colony of cats residing in the area. There must have been something like 8 cats, excluding the 6 little kittens which we saw together with their mother. However, there was one little kitten who appears to be less able to fight with her more robust brethen for access to food. That's why the photo shows only 5 kits. More pics of the cats on my flickr page.



There is a community of cat lovers/feeders across Singapore. One couple comes from Siglap to a road near my place to feed a group of cats. There is also a gentleman who cycles around the Marine Parade area to feed cats. My father has met him before; I think it was he whom I saw at the park feeding the cats. So the cats have food, and shelter. Poor kitten No.6 eats the food he brings, but it is adult cat food - no substitute for mother's milk.

But the large number of cats is a little worrying. Many people don't really like stray cats. The group of cats near my place got thinned out recently after a complaint from a resident led to a culling of the animals. The Cat Welfare Society recommends sterilisation but it is up to individual members to bring the cats for sterilisation and thereafter look after them whilst they recover. It is not an easy task to capture these strays. Many are suspicious of humans and of course bringing them to a cold white place where they get needles stuck into them will only reinforce their mistrust.

Massage Therapy

Somehow I can't relax during massages. I know the theory - that I am supposed to relax my muscles, etc etc. But somehow the law that "every action has an equal and opposite reaction" just comes into play the second the masseuse touches me.

Today I went with my friend to a spa down in Chinatown for a credit card- related promotion - price was ridiculously low so you can expect the little sales pitch at the end of the session. My inability to relax aside, I did think that it showed that we were not up to par where it came to service excellence. My therapist is probably Malaysian as she spoke mainly Teochew and some Mandarin. And she is perfectly pleasant and polite, but somehow she didn't really do the little things which enhance the visitor's experience. For example, I had to take off my shoes and put on a pair of slippers and go up the stairs with her. I was selecting my slippers and she was already at the top of the stairs. Then by the time I reached the top, she was nowhere to be seen- preparing the room. I thought she should accompany me up. And then there was no towelling robe for the customer to use whilst making the little walk between the shower stalls and the room, only a slightly inadequate towel. The room itself was rather small - I can accept that space is at a premium but the poor therapist was squeezing between the bed and the wall in order to get to my other side. But at $20 for a 1 hour massage, I can't really complain. On the other hand there must have been about 4-5 receptionists. No wonder our service productivity is crap.

After the massage we walked over to the "Pink Building" to check out prices for Macau (after all we did not go to Vegas or even Atlantic City whilst in the US). There I experienced a rather abrupt reception at the travel agency I went to. I went in, asked if there were any free & easy packages for Macau. The girl at the counter a) didn't look at me; b) said "no" and c) started talking on the phone. Ah well. I predict our score for service excellence will slip further, in this tight labour market.

We passed Lim Chee Guan on our way to and from Pink building and I am pleased to say I resisted the temptation to make a purchase, which would inevitably end up being consumed mainly by myself. I don't understand though why people would queue for hours in the run-up to Chinese New Year just for some boxes of bak kua when it is so easy to get it during the rest of the year without waiting at all! Must admit though that I didn't resist the temptation of the mango pomelo dessert in Temple Street. Cold, sweet with a slightly sourish edge and the bursts of citrus flavour every time you bite into the pulpy pomelo. Highly recommend it.

(p.s. I forgot to say - whilst I was noting service deficiencies, my friend was apparently having a fairly positive experience. She got a Thai masseuse, who wiped between her toes after she got back from her shower. Definitely no toe-wiping for me.)

New Blog Template

It's done! Whilst I was attempting to work out how to put the previous posts in, I found many many sites telling me how to do things in the new Blogger beta. So I decided to just bite the bullet and make the shift. And I must say that thus far, it looks quite nice. I have happily inserted a "Contents" page which lists all my posts thus far and not just the last 10.

Beta also has features which I think are pretty useful like the "older post" and "newer post" features when viewing a single post. Not to mention that this particular template actually stretches across the full screen and not just two-thirds of it.

Perhaps I will see how I can tweak this a little further so as to make use of all the new information I've gained.

Cat Invasion

So now I am back in Singapore and find that my garden has been invaded by six (6) cats. This is due to my dear parents feeding cats in the garden, in defiance of the cat books and exclude the four (4) kittens fed in the nearby road. They are Paddy, Martia, Mickey, Mollie, Blackie and Sootie. One morning, I opened the front door to take in the newspapers and there they were, all awaiting their breakfast. I closed the door and soon after heard some furry bodies pressing against it. Eventually I fed them. Oh yes, all six (6) of them. (Photo here only shows Mickey, Sootie and Blackie. All my cat photos here.) I suppose this means I've really acclimatised back to Singapore. Then I fed my dear little Casey.

I have just migrated to Blogger Beta and am a little annoyed because somehow the migration has buggered up the posts listing. It is ok when it comes to listing the 10 most recent posts, but if I want to find an earlier post (say 14 posts beforehand), it becomes necessary to go to the monthly archive and then go down the pages looking for it!

I went searching around the Blogger hacker sites and fora and somehow I can't quite find the solution I need. In the interim, I've managed to insert a new link (under Archive) saying "All my Posts" which covers all my posts thus far. Need to page down quite a bit to find earlier posts but that's the best I can do at this point.

Dominicans and Constable

I managed to have mass with the Washington D.C. Dominican community on my last day in the US. I just wanted to go for a nice, quiet Saturday morning mass (considering that I would be missing Sunday mass due to time lags and such). So I went to St Dominic's down the road from our hotel where there was supposed to be an 8am daily mass. However, the church was locked and this lady I bumped into told me mass would be at 8.15am in the chapel. When I got there, it was completely empty except for one robed figure in a corner who I took to be the priest and so I sat half-way down the chapel. Then, these elderly white-robed men started entering the chapel. No other lay people in sight. I started feeling quite uneasy. Was I in the right place? I contemplated making a run for it. Then I decided that what the heck, I had every right as a Catholic to be present. Never mind that in a group of white-robed Dominican priests, I was clearly the odd woman out.

Anyway we started mass with the psalmody. I had no idea where to find this and the Dominican across the aisle had to assist. Mass proceeded as per normal after that. It was the feast day of St Martin of Tours so the sermon referred to the story of how he gave half his cloak to a beggar, etc and what "we as Dominicans" can learn from St Martin. Apparently the Dominicans don't take a vow of poverty and Martin of Tours was famous for his hermitlike existence. The liturgy of the Eucharist took place next and all the priests started moving up towards the altar and took turns saying their lines. At some points (eg the consecration of the bread and wine) it was a chorus. I stayed put. I do know my place. At communion, of course there was only one (lay) recipient. Was not sure whether to go but the main celebrant gave me a little nod and up I went. I can't say I enjoyed mass, but I did appreciate the experience.

I didn't take any photos of the little priory chapel but here is the crucifix in the main church of St Dominic's. (I'd gone there for All Saints' Day when this photo was taken. What I did not expect was that I would be taking the wine up at Offertory. Someone asked me to do so at Offertory itself! I was not quite prepared for this and forgot to wait for the bread to be passed to the priest before returning to my seat. Ah well, it seems that I am not destined to have "ordinary" masses at St Dominic's.)

The previous day, we'd gone to the National Gallery of Art and since I'd spent time looking at American artists in Mexico, I went to see the special exhibition of John Constable's Six-Foot Paintings in the US! Constable started painting six-footers to attract attention at exhibitions and such. (Artists must always know what's commercial.) Constable started off by painting full-scale sketches of his work and then doing a polished version after that. It thus provides an idea of his thinking as he worked. The Six-Footers were done throughout Constable's career and therefore also show how his style progressed over time. One point which struck me was how the style in the final product began to look more and more like the more fluid and less polished style of his sketches, over time.

The National Gallery of Art is actually quite amazing. It was started off as a donation by Andrew Mellon to the nation in the hope that others would follow his example. And they did. Today, Bill Gates and Warren Buffet don't build museums/galleries. They look to improve public health around the world, and raise educational standards. Apparently the Gates Foundation is now one of the largest donors in the world, in the area of health, surpassing many countries' contributions. But they apply a private sector perspective on looking at effectiveness of aid, which perhaps state donors are less able to do. So income inequality in the US may be pretty stark but it is very difficult for anyone to resent Bill Gates' billions if he is helping to eradicate polio or whatever.

Cultural Learnings of America

On my last full day in the US, we went off to see Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan. It was strongly recommended by one of my classmates as being completely hilarious. And it was very funny, but I must say that I agree with the review which said that any movie billed as such always finds it difficult to live up to expectations. And after watching the movie, I wasn't really surprised to find out that Sacha Baron Cohen (the actor who plays Borat) is a British comedian. Borat is like a hugely exaggerated Mr Bean with a fake accent and moustache, and with a politically incorrect factor of x10. Borat is a Jew-hating sexist journalist from Kazakhstan making a documentary about the US to show in his home country. But he watches an episode of Baywatch and then gets the hots for Pamela Anderson. For her sake, he drives across America interviewing people along the way.

And this is where Mr Bean meets Reality TV. Many of the people interviewed were ordinary folk who were not aware that Borat was an invented character. He went to a humour coach, an etiquette coach, met feminists, car salesmen and attended a dinner party in the Deep South of the USA (where he brought a black prostitute as his date). Half of these people are now sueing Cohen for tricking them. Its incredible that more people didn't see through his strange behaviour.

There were also incredibly funny scenes which were staged -my favourite is where Borat and his producer engage in a nude wrestling match and run all over the hotel in the nude.

I am trying to work out exactly what makes it such a popular movie and have concluded that it lies in the deliberate way Borat sets out to offend every single last sensibility of politically correct America. Somehow Borat makes it politically correct to enjoy a crude, vulgar movie which helps them laugh at themselves.

Was quite surprised to see that Borat is opening in Singapore, 28 Dec. Well worth watching and it will be interesting to see Singaporeans' reactions.

Catrina, Posada and Diego Rivera

We spent most of our last day in Mexico wandering around the city, through the parks and the streets. The parks are great - cool shady oases in a bustling city. Not very busy too - we did see people walking their dogs in the park (Mexicans appear to be dog people) - but they were never overly crowded.

We also popped in on the Museo Mural Diego Rivera which is a museum with one main exhibit, a single mural by Diego Rivera which takes up a whole wall. It was originally in a hotel lobby- the hotel was destroyed in an earthquake but the mural managed to survive. Now, the mural was extremely controversial because Diego went and painted in a line which said "God does not exist". He was forced to paint it out but evidently God has a sense of humour, or else the mural would have been destroyed with the hotel!

Anyway, here is a small section of the famous mural. I took only one photo before being informed that I had to pay 5 pesos more for the pleasure of taking photos. So I stopped. At the very centre of the mural is El Calavera Catrina, arm in arm with her creator, Jose Guadalupe Posada. (For more on Posada and the creation of a cultural icon, here is a link.) The little boy holding Catrina's hand is Diego himself and reflects Diego's admiration for Posada. Behind them is Frida Kahlo, Diego's wife and a famous Mexican painter in her own right. I did not know until coming back and reading something about her that Frida was in a serious bus accident in her youth and she was essentially living in pain all her life. She painted many self portraits and a lot of it portrayed her pain, both physical and from her marriage to Diego. Diego had a habit of portraying his family members in his work - this mural featured his previous wife, his son (if I recall correctly), amongst others. He didn't have any children with Frida (the bus accident). The painting included politicians like Benito Juarez, and the Mexican dictator Porfirio Diaz. It also featured some of his themes, eg, family being evicted from their home, repressed worker, wicked banker etc. I liked Diego's work - the colours, the folklorish style, the density and detail. Most of all I liked his (socialist?) view that art belongs to the masses and hence his interest in public art and large murals.

This post brings me to the end of our stay in Mexico. Most of the backpackers in our hostel are moving on to other parts of Mexico and even South America but sigh, we are not amongst them. The Canadian girl is going down to Central America (where she hopes to learn Spanish) for a total of 3 months, the British vegetarian couple and the tall German girl are all off to Oaxaca. It is apparently only us kiasu Singaporeans who read US travel advisories on the situation in Oaxaca. The only other person here for a short stay was probably Hernand, the Peruvian who went on some of the same tours as we were. Hernand speaks as much English as I do Spanish so our conversations were necessarily limited. But I did manage to convey that we were studying administration and to get that he would be leaving for Peru the night just before we returned to the US. Maybe I am getting the hang of Espanol after being mistaken so many times as a hispanic.

Adios!