A Johor delicacy named after another place

In my earlier post about the cookbook Nostalgia Medan Selera, I included a photograph of the book turned to a page showing the recipe called Mee Siam. The main element of this dish is rice vermicelli (or better known as beehoon) cooked in a mixture of dried shrimps, shrimp paste and blended dried chillies. Other ingredients fried together in the mix include onions, fresh prawns, bean sprouts with final garnishing of diced pre-fried bean curds and chopped chives. But this is no ordinary fried beehoon. What makes it unique is the special gravy made with fermented beans (tauco) and tamarind juice.

Although called mee siam, the Siamese have no inkling of what it is. The dish takes its name from the rice vermicelli which originates from Thailand.

Another Johor favourite with a misleading name is Mee Bandung. If you are in a restaurant in Bandung, Indonesia and happen to order this dish, all you'll get is a very puzzled look from the waiter.

The Muar district of Johor claims to make the best mee bandung in the state. In the old town of Muar (also known as Bandar Maharani), there are a few places that specializes in serving this noodle dish but our favourite has always been Mee Bandung Abu Bakar Hanipah at Jalan Abdullah, right in the middle of town. Last Sunday, we were in Tangkak to visit my brother-in-law. On the way back, we decided to make a detour into Muar town just for the fun of it... and of course, stop by for a plate of mee bandung.

En. Abu Bakar operates from a small stall within a Chinese coffee shop. I first visited this place back in the mid-80's and the taste of his mee bandung has remained the same, delicious as always. These days, he has two other branches in Muar, run by his son and daughter, but he still remains at the modest stall where it started. He has even expanded his business to sell his homemade bandung mix, neatly packed for storage in your fridge. With this paste, you can now make your own mee bandung at home by just adding the fresh ingredients and yet still maintain that authentic taste. It is a recipe handed down to him from his father since 1930.

En. Abu Bakar is a friendly old man. When he was not busy, he came to our table for a chat. We found out that the popular mee bandung muar stall near our home in JB is run by his nephew. That explains the very similar taste. At the end of our meal, I requested for photo shot with him and he willingly obliged. The wall of the kopitiam is adorned with pictures of celebrities and VIPs who have dropped by to savour his dish.

If you happen to be in Muar town in day time, try to look for Wah San Coffeeshop at Jalan Abdullah. Finding a parking space during weekdays can be quite a torture but the mee bandung is really worth it. And the coffee is quite good too.

Old shophouses along Jalan Abdullah

Wah San Kopitiam from the front

A nice teatime meal of mee bandung, satay and kopi muor

Celebrity pics on the wall. See if you can recognize any

The man himself flanked by the missus and yours truly

Interlude

It has been a while since we had an interlude...

Two men at the Pearly Gates

Two men waiting at the Pearly Gates strike up a conversation.

"How'd you die?" the first man asks the second.

"I froze to death," says the second.

"That's awful," says the first man. "How does it feel to freeze to death?"

"It's very uncomfortable at first," says the second man. "You get the shakes, and you get pains in all your fingers and toes. But eventually, it's a very calm way to go. You get numb and you kind of drift off, as if you're sleeping. How about you, how did you die?"

"I had a heart attack," says the first man. "You see, I knew my wife was cheating on me, so one day I showed up at home unexpectedly. I ran up to the bedroom, and found her alone, knitting. I rushed down to the basement, but no one was hiding there. I ran up to the second floor, but found no one there either. I went as fast as I could to the attic, and just as I got there, I had a massive heart attack and died."

The second man shakes his head. "That's so ironic," he says.

"What do you mean?" asks the first man.

"If you had only stopped to look in the freezer, we'd both be still alive."

Moral of the story : You don't want to die of a heart attack in your own house, so keep fit.

A recipe book from the past... the Revival

I wrote about an old Malay recipe book called Medan Selera belonging to my eldest sister-in-law, in a post published on 18.03.11. In the last paragraph of that post, I mentioned that someone I know is involved in the re-publication of the book in modern form.

I am pleased to announce that I'm now the owner of the latest revision of the classic reference for Malay recipes from Johor, now re-named Nostalgia Medan Selera. Gone are those archaic measurement units such as kati and tahil, replaced with familiar metric units. The text for the method of cooking has also been presented in simple point or bullet format, plus the language has been modernised to suit the times. No more ketumbar : 5 chamcha besar or kunyit kering : 2 inchi panjang. To substitute for certain hard to get spices mentioned in the original book, the new edition offers alternatives more commonly found today. The new book also contains quality photographs of some dishes from selected recipes.

The update of the classic book was the effort from seven grandchildren of the original author, Haji Ahmad Bin Yaakub. It is now available through online order via the publisher's website at Shakespot Sdn Bhd. It costs RM130 including postage. A beautifully bound hard-cover edition that makes a valuable addition to any food enthusiast's collection.

135 recipes that include some Arabic and Westerns dishes too

Mee Siam, a classic Johor favourite served with fermented bean sauce

Friends are forever (Part 2)

In May of last year, I wrote a post about this good friend of mine who took me flying above KL city in a Cessna plane. Captain Norhisham Kassim and I went to the same boarding school in Kuantan. After leaving school in 1979, we lost touch with each other for a quite some time.

Over the years, I did hear that he went to flying school to become a pilot and that he flew for MAS when he got his wings. Whenever I fly on the national carrier on business trips, I'll always listen carefully to the steward's announcement, with the hope that my old classmate would be in the pilot's seat. It never happened.

When I first got to know my wife, I found out that she comes from Mersing, the same hometown as Hisham. Upon getting married, I further found out that my wife's family is remotely related to Hisham's family. His brothers and my wife's brothers are close childhood friends. It was during the wedding of my brother-in-law's son some years ago that my contact with Hisham was re-established. While Hisham lives in Seremban and me in Johor Bahru, we do meet quite regularly in recent years, mostly for gatherings or reunions of our schoolmates from the batch of 1979.

Last weekend, Hisham held an Aidilfitri open house for his K79 friends at his home in Seremban 2. It was quite a sizeable turnout. A total of 35 former teenagers now already 50 years-old, made the gathering a lively and memorable occasion. While most of my friends came from around Klang valley, there were a few of us who came from much further away such as from Kangar, Perlis and Pekan, Pahang. From JB, five of us turned up including myself. That just shows how close the bond is between us.

Our thanks to Captain Norhisham and his wife for being gracious hosts and for putting up with the crazy antics of a bunch of old guys and gals who still think they are seventeen.

Brothers and sisters who grew up eating the same nasi kawah

Remembering the one who has gone before us

Around this time 14 years ago, my mother-in-law passed away. She had been staying with us for some time. She was not in the best of health at the time, having suffered a stroke that paralyzed one side of her body and made her speech incoherent. She was also surviving with the aid of a heart pacemaker, which at the time of her stroke, was already at the end of its service and due for replacement.

Despite all the setbacks, my mother-in-law took her situation with all the patience she could muster. She hardly whined or complained. Redha is the Malay word for it.

I still remember the last few days before she left us. I was working at a construction project in Negeri Sembilan at that time, but was at home in Johor Bahru for the Hari Merdeka holiday. That evening, my wife noted that her mother was in severe pain and asked me to take her to the nearby clinic. I helped my MIL into a wheelchair and pushed her to my car. We drove to the clinic located about 10 minutes away. Dr. Ismail whom we personally know, took one look at my MIL and immediately advised us to go to the hospital. We drove straight to Hospital Tun Aminah and my MIL was admitted.

After the admission process was done with, I had a feeling that this could be the time. I told my wife to call her father (who was living alone at the kampung house) and one of her elder brothers. This elder brother would then be tasked to inform the other siblings, most of whom were staying in the Klang valley.

The next day, my father-in-law arrived from Mersing. Some of my other in-laws also arrived on the same day and many relatives came on the next. But by that time, my MIL was no longer conscious. She passed away early morning on her third day in hospital. She is now buried at the At-Tahiriyyah muslim cemetery in Kg Sri Pantai, Mersing.

Every year during Aidilfitri, usually on the 2nd or 3rd day of hari raya, the family would gather at her grave to recite the surah Yaasin and pray to the Almighty to pardon her sins. Actually, this practice of gathering at the cemetery at Aidilfitri is not a religious command but rather a cultural one. Many Muslim scholars have debated on this issue but it is not my intention to elaborate about it in this post. I am not against it because it is perhaps the only one time of the year where most of the family members can gather at the same place. While the original intention is for us to remember the dead, I believe it also helps to foster closer relations among those still living.

On my own side of the family, this ritual is not practiced. My mother has never brought us visit her father's or mother's grave during our hari raya trips back to her kampung. But one of these days, I would like to bring her to visit my grandparents' resting place because I have fond memories of them, especially during those happy days of hari raya where we would spend at the old kampung house together with so many of our cousins.

I was wondering the other day, if my youngest son has any memory of his late grandmother, because he was only 3 years-old at the time. My wife says that he has... which sort of surprised me a bit at first, since I myself can't recall anything from that age. But I guess it is possible for my son because my MIL was living with us for a few years.

My late mother-in-law, Hajah Sapiah Bt. Mohamad, passed away on 3rd September 1998. On the same date this year, one of our nieces gave birth to a healthy baby girl. The new baby is the 20th great-grandchild in the family.

Prayers for our mother at this year's gathering

Sometimes it doesn't last...

I have been pondering for a while whether to post this, the reason being that it is not a happy story. There is always this reservation of possible regret, or being ashamed or causing embarrassment. As the Malay proverb goes, membuka pekung di dada.

But then life is not always about the rosy things that happen. It is not always a fairy tale. We have to take the bitter with the sweet. Langit tidak selalu cerah. Writing about it may not change anything but hopefully it will serve as a reminder to myself that things do go wrong sometimes, and that there is nothing that we can do about it. Except to learn and persevere.

In the past year and this one, two of my closest kin ended their respective marriages. By some twist of fate, it is the youngest sibling of each family, one from my side of the family while the other is from my wife's.

My youngest and only sister got married in January 2000. It was a very happy occasion. I played a lead role in the wedding arrangement, helping to plan the proceedings and even became the `ketua rombongan', a role traditionally held by my father. Things went nearly perfect and we received praises from guests and relatives who attended. It was a good training for me because in the near future, the experience would be useful when I plan for the weddings of my own children.

My sister's marriage lasted almost 12 years. She and her husband divorced some time last year. I had suspected that things were not going well for quite a while but I have never asked her on the details. It is not that I don't bother but I prefer that she comes to me voluntarily for advice. She chose not to.

She has never revealed to me the real reasons for the break-up except to offer the well-used reply of `we are not compatible any more'.

So who is to blame, if indeed there is a need to find fault? As it stands and based on my own assessment of the situation, I would not blame my former brother-in-law. In the years of being married to my sister, he has behaved in a very respectful manner. He speaks in a soft tone and gets along well with my sons and his other nephews and nieces.

I know it is hard not to side with my own kin but that's the way it is. Some things will never change... although we pray hard for them to. Subsequent to her separation, my sister's life has been going downhill. I helped her out of trouble on occasions but sadly she does not keep to her promise of changing for the better.

Am I disappointed? Yes, I am.

Do I love her any less? No, I don't. But my patience has its limit.

Ok then, now to the other sibling story. Two weeks ago, during the aidilfitri gathering on my wife's side of the family, we received news that my wife's youngest brother is now back to being single. The divorce actually occurred a few months earlier but my brother-in-law chose to keep most of his family in the dark. Needless to say, my wife (plus the other sisters) are very disappointed. But we will leave it at that, for now.

Selamat Hari Merdeka to all Malaysian friends and readers. May the Almighty grant us peace and patience in all the tough situations we face in our daily life.

If you have nothing better to do...

I have just discovered this amusing little website that allows you to create word clouds out of any passage of text that you have penned down yourself or copied from somewhere. It is called Wordle.

The output from the word jumble can be formatted to a number of preset layouts, fonts and colours. Enough variations to fit whatever is your mood or fancy.

The following is the result of a wordle run using the text from one of my earlier blog postings. Now, is that cool or what... or perhaps something utterly unproductive. Don't blame me if your boss catches you wasting time on this thing...

Update 28.08.12

Can't resist doing another one. Here's the result from my Pantun 4 Kerat post...

Aidilfitri greetings

In a news article on The Star Online yesterday, a retired teacher laments the dying tradition of sending and receiving Hari Raya greeting cards. En. Mohamed Yahaya of Penang, collects such cards over the years and to date has more than 300 pieces in his collection. This year he has received only two.

Well En. Mohamed, I have to admit that I am one of those who no longer sends Hari Raya greeting cards. I stopped doing so around 10 years ago when it became convenient to wish my friends via sms. Nowadays, we have even more options to convey our greetings by way of social networking websites.

At one time, I was an ardent card sender. I had a mailing list of around 30 to 40 names which I update annually. It was a nice way of keeping in touch with friends and business associates. A personalised message written on a greeting card gives that satisfactory feeling of closeness compared to a short text message on a mobile phone that is sent to many.

When I stopped sending cards using snail mail, the number of cards I received of course, started to dwindle as well. This year, the postman has delivered to me only two. One from a former colleague who has never stopped the practice while the other is from a former employer. Of the many companies that I have previously worked in, this particular one has never failed to keep in touch. It feels good to be remembered.

I take this opportunity to wish my friends and readers a wonderful Eid Mubarak. May the Almighty keep us all in good health. Selamat Hari Raya Aidilfitri.

Going for gold

The 2012 edition of the Olympics in London has ended. Quite an exciting sporting event. I stayed glued to the TV to watch a few sports, some of which I never had any interest before. Looking back to 4 years ago, I can't recall any significant time I spent watching the Beijing games. This time around, I eagerly switched channels to view athletes perform their skills in archery, shooting, diving, weight-lifting, volleyball and of course, track & field.

Why the increase in interest this time? Maybe because London is a place I am familiar with... but the real reason must be that Astro had so many channels on offer.

I have never watched archery before. I never knew about the format of competition, the method of scoring or which nation was favourite to win. This time, I learned a bit about the sport by watching it on television. The main reason for my interest is because Malaysia participated in the event. We did not win anything in archery but I believe we are in the right direction. A bit more training and talent search, I think we can be in the top flight of this sport quite soon.

I remember a chat I had with a friend, a long long time ago, about the chances of Malaysia ever winning a medal at the Olympics. At that time, badminton was not yet an Olympic sport. We had a few good track & field athletes but they never stood a chance against the well-trained and physically superior Americans and Europeans. The well-known Olympic phrase of `not about the winning but the taking part' was starting to sound bland. My friend mentioned that if we can't match our opponents in terms of physique, then we should involve ourselves in other sports that rely more on skill rather than just pure strength. Sports like shooting and archery.

Over the years, we have seen more of our participation in such sports. The medals aren't coming in yet but if we keep at it, I'm pretty sure we will have a champion soon. Just look at the sport of diving. Pandelela's bronze medal is something to be proud of after many years of hard work. The sporting authorities should build on this success and make diving into a more popular sport. Hopefully we can have both male and female winners in diving at the next session in Rio.

With 2 medals (1 silver and 1 bronze), it is the best Olympics we have had. Malaysia ranks no.63 in the medal tally, not as good as some less-developed nations (Ethiopia or Mongolia) but still better than our richer neighbour. I watched the badminton singles final match and I think Lee Chong Wei did his best. I don't think he can do any better in 4-years time, so BAM should perhaps plan for another strategy. We sorely need a replacement for Chong Wei. In fact, we should also have a top-class doubles pair too so that we have more options in our search for that elusive Olympic gold...

Iftar with an old friend

I had iftar (the breaking of fast) with an old friend and ex-colleague earlier today. My friend, Wan Mohd Ibzaini and I used to work in the same engineering firm many years ago. We were once involved in the same construction project at Penang Port in Butterworth in 2006. Ibzaini is now supervising a dredging project in Pasir Gudang.

I took my friend to a seafood restaurant at Senibong, near Permas Jaya in JB. Senibong is a small village located on the coastline of the straits that separates Singapore from Johor. It is a popular spot for seafood dinner because there are a number of good restaurants located in a row of stilt buildings built over the water. Generally, the food here is expensive... most likely due to the purchasing power of our neighbours from the other side of the water. But having said that, I guess people continue to flock to this place because the restaurants serve quite delicious food.

I haven't been to Senibong for quite a while, so I thought it was timely to introduce my friend to this makan place which happen to be one of my favourites. It is called Permata Senibong Seafood & Steamboat (No. 8). Putting aside our cholesterol worries for a while (both Ibzaini and myself are on cholesterol medication), we had crabs, prawns, mussels and a unique vegetable dish called crispy kailan. Simply delicious...

Ketam telur masin (crab cooked in salted eggs)

Kupang masak cili (mussels in chilli sauce)

Crispy kailan

P/s : Sorry for the blurry pics. They were taken using my BB phone. The camera on my previous SE phone is much better.

The fast... but not furious

We are already past the first third of the fasting month of Ramadhan. The Almighty has graciously extended our lives to be able to savour and experience this holy month once again.

To those of us who have undergone the ritual of fasting for many years, the physical act of not partaking food and drink during daylight hours should by now, become routine. The real challenge, to me at least, is to ensure we do not spoil the reward of the fast by improper actions.

Do not tell lies. Be patient. Control our temper. Do not speak ill of others. No back-biting. Refrain from insulting. Be charitable and generous. Do not be wasteful. Beware of what we look at. Control our desires... plus much, much more.

The above are all noble virtues that should already be part of our system all the time and not just for this month. But such attributes take a special meaning during Ramadhan because our failure to observe such qualities would result in an imperfect reward for our daily fast. Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w) had said, "It may be that all a fasting person gets from his fast is hunger and thirst. And it may be that all a person who prays at night gets from his prayers is sleeplessness."

May the balance of this holy month be gainfully used to achieve the objective of fasting... and that is to gain taqwa.

"Allahumma innaka 'affuwwun tuhibbul 'afwa fa'fu 'anni' ". Allah, You are The One Who pardons greatly, and loves to pardon, so pardon me.

Iftar at my mom's last week was a dish of `kacang pool', a family favourite.

Creativity takes courage

Among the members of my extended family, there are not many whom I can put into the creative category. These are the type of persons who have talent in the arts. Painting, craftwork, writing, music or even carpentry.

I have a few sisters-in-law who are quite good in handicraft and decorations, especially in the traditional Malay wedding gifts (gubahan hantaran). My own mother can draw quite well and I've always believed that she would have been a great painter had not the domestic demands of those early years taken priority.

I have previously introduced to readers, a niece of mine, Mazny MR, who is an author. Her first book is titled Lentera Cinta Albaicin. Today I am introducing another niece, whose creativity is in the field of art and sculpture. Just so happen that this up and coming artist is the younger sister to the other one. Her name is Maslin.

Last weekend, we were at Shah Alam to attend the aqiqah ceremony of Maslin's son. We took the opportunity to visit her studio. Maslin's speciality is working with wax. The following photographs show some of her creations.

I told the two sisters that I am proud to have two very brave and talented nieces. A writer and a painter. This old uncle of theirs can only write in blogs...

One corner of the studio

Childhood memories

My grandniece (who is a niece of my niece)

Do you see the overriding theme?

I'm mad as a cow because I can't donate

Actually, there is no such idiom `as mad as a cow'... and I'm not really mad (as in angry, not insane). Just disappointed and a bit puzzled. But I'll explain what I mean shortly...

Yesterday and today, there is a nationwide blood donation drive being organised by the alumni association of MRSM, together with the assistance of AEON Jusco and the various hospitals. It is the 6th annual campaign and they hold it a few weeks before the Muslim fasting month of Ramadhan. I was at Jusco Tebrau City yesterday morning, with the intention of giving a pint of my blood. I am not a regular blood donor... the last time I did so was in 2007 during a similar campaign.

For those of you who have never donated blood before, the process of giving up a bit of that precious liquid is not just simply offering your arm to be pricked with a needle, see the red stuff flow down a tube and into a plastic bag. You would have to first fill up a form containing a zillion questions where you tick boxes to indicate `Yes' or `No'. A nurse would do a teenie-weenie jab on the tip of your middle finger to extract a drop of blood, from which she would determine your blood type.

You would take the form to the doctor on duty who then interviews you based on the answers you have given. The questions on the form are of course, to determine your level of health and suitability as a donor. Since lives would be at stake, you'd better answer all questions truthfully, no matter how embarrassing some of the questions might be. There was this question that asks whether you had paid for sex in the last 6 months... and if you had ticked the `Yes' box, then you better forget about donating. I guess the same would apply if you got paid for sex too.

There was also this question about whether you have visited or stayed in the United Kingdom for a least six months from 1979 to 1990. I ticked `Yes'. The young doctor asked me why I was there. I said I was a student for nearly 5 years. I queried back, what's the significance? He couldn't answer me but looked towards another senior doctor for help.


The senior doctor said that it has something to do with the Mad Cow Disease. Goodness me! That was so many years ago. The epidemic in the UK was in 1987... I had left the country a few years before that. Bovine spongiform encephalitis (BSE), that's the official medical term. It's a bit strange that the health authorities believe that I may carry the infectious agent after all this time. I told the doctor that I had previously donated blood five years ago with no problems. She replied that the issue was not considered back then. Unfortunately today, they can't take my blood. Yeah, right...

So now I am no longer acceptable as a blood donor. As long as the Health Ministry believes that there is a threat of UK residents of that period carrying a risk of the BSE agent in their blood, until then I won't be able to donate my blood. Bummer.

Anyway, the day was not a total loss. The hospital representatives at the event were also promoting organ transplant pledges. I took the opportunity to pledge the donation of some of my organs in case of my demise. I offer my eyes (cornea) and kidneys to be shared with any person in need at some future time.

The Queen is the most powerful

My father bought me my first chess set when I was in primary school. He taught me how to play the game and I was instantly hooked. I played against my school friends and soon became quite good at it. I even reached a stage where I could beat my father (although I still can never beat him in the other popular board game of draughts, or more well-known in Malay as dam haji... yang tu memang dia terrer).

As I entered secondary school, I became more engrossed in the game as I meet more challenging and skillful opponents. There was this one time during school holidays, my cousin and I stayed at our grandmother's kampung house to look after her. My grandmother did not have a television, so we spent the nights playing chess. Our skill level was almost equal so the games we played were never one-sided. I became so focused in playing chess to the extent that planning the possible moves and tactics made its way into my dreams. I asked my cousin if he also similar dreams and he said yes.

When I entered adulthood, I played against even stronger opponents... until I reached a point when the game no longer was fun. It was the instant when I realised that I could fairly predict what my regular opponent's next move would be. This feeling would extend beyond the game itself, i.e. to every day situations. Very eerie.

I concluded that if I could sort of read my friend's mind, then he could probably read mine too. This, I don't want to happen... so I stopped playing the game, at least against regular human opponents. To this day, the game of chess no longer interests me.

It has long puzzled me why the strongest piece on the chess board is the Queen. She can move in any direction and as many squares as she pleases. The King, on the other hand, can only move one square at a time. When my father was teaching me the game, I asked him why this is so. Don't know, he said. Maybe it reflects real-life situation. I didn't quite understand it at that time, but as the years passed, I guess there is some truth in that.

Which now allows me to close this post with a quote I read somewhere recently : Never trust a man who says he is the king of his household. He could be lying about other things too...

Hitting the half-century mark

Around this time ten years ago, I was struggling to make a living in Kuala Lumpur. I was into my second month in a new job at a construction firm belonging to a friend. He had invited me to join his company with the objective of having me lead a new road project that he said he had secured. He even showed me the Letter of Intent issued by a certain government department indicating that the project was genuine.

Since I was out of work, I decided to accept his offer with a meagre allowance on the promise that a salary revision would be considered once the project gets under way. The first month passed by but no salary was in sight. As the first week of the following month elapsed without any news of the overdue pay, I decided that the place was not for me and approached my friend to tell him I was leaving. He immediately apologised for the salary delay and promised me that some funds would be available in the next few days and that I would get paid soon. But once I make up my mind, I seldom turn back. And so I left the firm with no money in my pockets and entered the jobless scene yet again.

I had just celebrated my 40th birthday... well, `celebrated' is an overstatement since I was alone and miserable in the capital city. Whoever coined the phrase that `life begins at 40', certainly had other things in mind.

From that point onwards, the next 10 years of my life has been a roller coaster ride, at least for the last few years anyway. But then, isn't a roller coaster ride meant to give you that thrill of adrenalin rush, that feeling of excitement? Indeed, such ups and downs gives life that colourful spread of variety that we call experience.

I reached my 50-year birthday two days ago. Nothing special happened, just a simple family dinner at a restaurant in town. But I am happy and grateful. I have my reasonably good health and my sons are doing well in school. We have a roof over our heads and our debts are manageable. I have a lot to be thankful for.

Now that I have reached this milestone, half-a-century doesn't seem to be long time at all. May the Almighty grant us all the life and good health to be meeting again in another blog post next year... insyaAllah.

My youngest son Imran and his grandfather (my father) at our simple dinner last night

Apa dah jadi?

Apa dah jadi? Apa dah jadi?
Blog ini dah sunyi sepi...

It has never happened before that I failed to post anything in a whole month. June has passed by without a single peep. So what caused me to be postless in the previous month? Busy, bored or blurr.... take your pick.

Actually, it has been terribly busy on the work front for the past few months, and it looks to stretch out as such for the next few. So this quick entry is just to keep this blog alive. I am just posting a few pictures taken in Mersing the previous week when we made a quick weekend trip to my wife's hometown to attend a wedding.

Stay cool people...

Fishing Bay Resort

Old bridge at Teluk Sari

Sunset and low tide

The beach at the resort

Fisherman's jetty at Teluk Buih

Wedding weekend

In early 2011, I was involved in a construction project at UPNM in Sungai Besi, Kuala Lumpur. We were building a hostel for 500 students using the IBS (Industrialised Building System) method. Assisting me to supervise the site works was a petite girl by the name of Shahida Hairussalleh.

Shida, as all of us call her, stands not quite 5 feet tall but her diminutive size defy her stern attitude. I've seen her bark out instructions to some of the lazy Bangladeshi labourers and couldn't help but smile at the reaction from the workers in scurrying to carry out the required tasks. She can be tough but she's very fair. What I like most about her was her willingness to absorb knowledge. She asked me a lot of questions about engineering and construction and I would gladly share whatever I know.

We parted ways in June of last year when the project was nearly complete and I decided to return to Johor to handle other projects. A few weeks ago, Shida rang me up to invite me to her wedding. Of course I would come, I told her. I have always made it a point to attend the weddings of my subordinates, as long as the distance is reasonable and it doesn't clash with other events.

So last Sunday saw me and the missus take a drive from JB to Rawang where the bride's reception is being held, a distance of about 350km one way. Shida and her groom Amirul, were delighted that we made it. My wish to the young lady and her husband for good things to come their way in the years ahead. Selamat Pengantin Baru...

The bride was at the main table when I arrived.

Keris pahlawan menikam kalbu...

The happy couple wouldn't let us leave until this pic was taken.

Biting into the meaty stuff

In the days of secondary school, a few friends and I pooled some funds and went into part-time business of selling burgers and ABC (or ais kacang). We did it during one of the term breaks when our school had encouraged the students to set up stalls to sell stuff among ourselves. Part of early exposure to encourage the spirit of entrepreneurship.

We sold a variety of burgers. Apart from the standard piece of beef or chicken patty sandwiched in a bun, we had other setups such as cheeseburger, egg burger, baby burger, mama burger and papa burger. I cannot now recall what makes up each of these burger variety but I'm sure papa burger was the whopper of the lot. It had two burger patties with two eggs plus a cheese slice topping. It was a hit among the students and overall, we made a tidy profit, even after splitting it 5-ways.

At that time I thought, if I ever not make it in my studies, I can always fall back to selling burgers... and I didn't think anybody could be as creative as us in inventing burger menus. Yesterday, I found one burger stall that has gone on with ideas way beyond what I had imagined more than 30 years ago.

I first read about Planetz Burger in a local food blog JB Food Club, a few weeks ago. From the review and the pics that were shown, I knew I had to give the place a try. As I was driving home from work yesterday evening, I passed the area where the stall is located and made a split-second decision to search for it.

Planetz Burger is a simple push-cart roadside stall located in front of a row of shophouses, somewhere in Taman Munsyi in Tampoi. It is just like any other burger stalls you find at roadside corners operating next to mamak restaurants or in front of 7-Elevens... except this one has variety. I wouldn't dare to try describe them all but you can have mayami burgers, mushroom burgers, combo burgers (double, triple or even quadruple!), fries and nuggets too. And the burgers themselves can either be chicken or beef or mutton or rabbit. Take your pick. Have a look at the photos in their Facebook page and you'll know what I mean. Generally, the burgers are meant to be bought as take-aways to be eaten at home but if you can't suppress your hunger and wait till you get home, you can sit at the simple folding table to chow on your meat. Planetz Burger also sell simple squash drinks to help you water down your meal.

Ok then, we are spoiled for choice... but what about taste, I hear you ask? Well, my first order from this stall was a mayami mutton special combo cheeseburger. It had the whole works : double mutton patties, egg, cheese, salad greens, onions and black pepper sauce. Real messy to eat but the taste was exquisite.

The simple burger stall. Pic from Planetz Burger FB.

Mayami combo poster. Pic from Planetz Burger FB.

Cholesterol-laden goodness

I am definitely stopping by this place again soon to try the other versions. You can really make a decent honest living selling burgers from a roadside stall, if you are creative enough.

April is a girl's name...

Goodness me! It is the end of April already... and I have not posted anything apart from the Pantun 4 Kerat item to mark my 4th anniversary of being a blogger. It has been a terribly busy month. Plenty of unfinished and overdue stuff. Luckily the Inland Revenue Board has an extended closing date for e-filing of tax returns, otherwise I'd be late on that one too.

While I do have a few ideas floating in my head on what to write, the mental and physical fatigue at the end of each working day is hampering efforts to put those ideas on screen. Even blog-hopping is becoming rare nowadays... but I do hope it does not last, because I really enjoy writing in this blog and reading the entries in other blogs.

So what shall I write about today? Nothing serious, just another one in my `merapu' category.

Of the 12 months in the Gregorian calendar, a few of these have been used as female names. April, May and June are the obvious examples. I have also previously seen January being used as a girl's name, although not often like the other three. Of the other months, only August (from Augustus Ceasar, the Roman emperor) is considered a male name, at least to the best of my knowledge. The word `august', as an adjective, carries a noble meaning as well.

Of the 7 days in the week, perhaps only Friday is used as a person's name... even so, only as a fictional character in Robinson Crusoe. Compare that to the Malay names for days of the week. Isnin, Jumaat and Sabtu are quite common Malay male names. Persons with these names are obviously born on the days their names represent. Similarly, a few of the name of months in the Muslim Hijrah calendar are adopted as individual names - Muharram, Rejab, Ramadan and Shawal being some examples.

Our eldest son was born on the first day of the first month of the Hijrah calender, 23 years ago. Some of our elder relatives suggested that we name him Ahmad Muharram, or something similar. Of course, we didn't... that would've been too easy and uninspiring.

Ok then, let's say goodnight to April and welcome May...

Pantun 4 Kerat

Anak punai anak merbah
Terbang turun buat sarang
Blog ditinggal terlalu lama sudah
Sampai penuh habuk dan sawang


Asal kapas jadi benang
Dari benang dibuat baju
Hal yang lepas jangan dikenang
Ayuh dibuka lembaran baru


Selat teduh lautan tenang
Banyak labuh perahu Aceh
Kerana pembaca yang sudi bertandang
Ku ucapkan berbanyak terima kasih


Kalau pinang masih muda
Rasanya kelat sudahlah pasti
Kalau hilang pembaca hamba
Rasanya sunyi di dalam hati


Empat rangkap pantun empat kerat yang telah saya modify dari lirik lagu yang pernah popular zaman 70an dulu, sebagai posting pertama pada bulan empat ini. Dengan kesibukan tugas serta perjalanan ke sana ke mari, terlepas saya untuk menulis sesuatu sebagai tanda blog Just Observations ini telah pun menjangkau usia 4 tahun.

Terima kasih saya ucapkan kepada semua rakan blogger serta pembaca (samada pembaca senyap mahupun yang bersuara) yang telah menemani saya sekitar pengembaraan saya di alam siber.

Indah budi kerna bahasa... ingatan saya kepada tuan sentiasa.

Tan Tin Tun

In the early 1980's, a local humour magazine called Gila-Gila was a huge best-seller. I was a regular customer and used to keep so many old copies of it. Among the popular cartoon series in that magazine was one done by the late Rejabhad called Tan Tin Tun. I cannot now recall what the story was about but it had to do with three characters carrying that names.

At that time, I believed that such names could only be found in a fictional creation... until one day, someone told me of a true-life example.

At my first workplace, I had a colleague named Atan. He married a pretty clerk who worked in the same organization called Zaiton. I was part of the groom's entourage for the wedding ceremony at the bride's kampung, somewhere in Kota Tinggi.

Some time after they were married, Zaiton became pregnant and later gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. The name they gave their daughter was Fatin (actually a long name of Fatin something or other, sorry can't remember). At first I didn't realise it and I'm sure my friend Atan had not either... but the happy family inadvertently became a complete set. Tan, Tin, Tun... for Atan, Fatin and Eton. True story.

Fit for the job

It is standard procedure nowadays for prospective employers to require would-be employees to undergo medical checks, the results of which would determine whether the employee would be offered the job, or if already employed, to be confirmed in his post. I have worked at so many places and the requirement of each employer is different. No doubt, the most basic of such requirements is the standard chest x-ray, urine test and vision check. Many employers today also ask for a blood test.

I remember when I first got a job in 1984, I had to take the medical check-up at the government hospital. Those days, the hospitals aren't as well-equipped as now and we had to wait quite a long time to go through each of the tests. Chest x-ray images required a week or so to be developed. Same goes for urine samples. Forget about blood samples... it would've taken weeks to get a result.

Nowadays, many private hospitals and some private clinics have the full array of diagnostic equipment to carry out whatever tests the employer wish to check, with most results being made available within a single day. The more complicated blood tests may take a day or two longer.

Earlier today, I went to a private clinic to do a medical. I had to pee into a small container, had my body zapped with x-rays and my arm pricked with a needle to draw blood. The clinic could've given me the result by tomorrow except that my employer wants my blood to be HIV-tested. That would take a few more days. I guess they want to be sure that I am not immune-deficient, have not been taking illicit drugs and be as healthy as I can be while in their employment.

Godown sand

A godown is the name given to a warehouse or large store but this name is only in popular use in south and eastern Asia. Don't use this word if you are in the west, otherwise the people there would think you want to head somewhere.

Apparently the word godown comes direct from the Malay translation of `gudang'. I had always thought it was the other way round.

Okay, back to the title... godown sand does not make sense but a sand godown does, i.e. a place where sand is stored. Only that it wouldn't be the correct translation of the Malay place-name which is the subject of today's post. Pasir Gudang is a township to the east of Johor Bahru city and is where my present workplace is. It is a large housing and industrial area first developed by Johor Corporation in the early 1980s. My first stint working in Pasir Gudang was in 1990 where I was part of the engineering department which undertook the construction works. My present employment is not related to my earlier job, which I left in November 1991.

On most mornings before clocking in at the office, I would stop by a nearby restaurant for breakfast. A few days ago, as I was holding a mug of nescafe tarik and looking for a seat, I spotted a familiar face sitting alone at a table. This person also saw me and a few silent moments passed as both of us try to recall who the other person is. He was the one who spoke first.

"Encik Fadhil ke?" he asks.

"Betul," I nodded. "Alias kan? Ingat lagi kamu kat aku ye."

He smiled, we shook hands and he offered me to sit with him at the same table. Alias Shahdan was an excavator operator who worked in the same the department as I did, more than 20 years ago. He worked under a separate section and did not directly report to me, so I was surprised that he still recognizes me. And he was polite enough to still address me as 'Encik' although I have long ceased being his superior. Alias is now retired, of course. We chatted a bit about the old times... when Pasir Gudang was still a barren and dusty place but busily growing like a restless child eager to become an adult.

There were perhaps 50 to 60 machine operators and workshop crew working with our department then but I can recall Alias by name because he was one of the more dedicated and hardworking ones. A soft-spoken man with no disciplinary issues.

Before I left Pasir Gudang in 1991, one the last projects I handled was the construction of an indoor stadium. It was still at the initial design stage at the time but the top bosses wanted to hold a ground-breaking ceremony so that the Menteri Besar would have a reason to come to Pasir Gudang. My colleagues and I discussed on what manner the actual ground-breaking event is going to be. We decided that the MB shall sit on a Caterpillar backhoe, work a few of the levers to move the bucket and symbolically dig a hole in the ground. Of course, you can't expect the MB to actually know how to operate a backhoe so we had to have one of our operators to be his guide. The choice of who this operator should be was obvious... it has to be Alias bin Shahdan. And so, the man was informed of his upcoming important task and he accepted the news with hardly a complaint. Over the next few days, he took the extra effort to have his machine cleaned up and applied the standard yellow colour touch-up paint. When the day came for the actual ceremony, the backhoe looked like it just came out of the showroom.

The Menteri Besar of Johor at that time was Tan Sri Muhyiddin Yassin. When the MB finished reading his officiating speech, Alias accompanied him to the backhoe parked some metres away and invited him to sit in the cab. With the MB seated comfortably, Alias crouched alongside the VIP and coolly showed him how to work the hydraulic levers. The bucket made a small arc, dug a bit of the earth and the ceremony was done. Alias had his pictures in the newspapers the next day.

I departed from Pasir Gudang shortly after that and so did not see the stadium being constructed. Even upon completion I have never actually set foot inside it. Yesterday afternoon after work, I took a drive to the stadium just to view it from the outside.

When it was first completed, the indoor stadium was simply named Stadium Perbadanan, to reflect the fact that is was built by Perbadanan Johor, the state development and investment body. It has since been renamed Stadium Perbandaran Pasir Gudang, after the state civil service took over the administration of the local authority now known as Majlis Perbandaran Pasir Gudang.

Stadium Perbandaran

A signboard that is proof the stadium originally had a different name

Colours of the rainbow

I really must have nothing better to do to be writing a post on this subject...

ALL men see in only 16 colours, like Windows default settings. Peach, for example, is a fruit, not a colour. Pumpkin is also a fruit. We have no idea what mauve is.

The above statement is one of twenty-three from a list of observations called `Men's Rules' some smart guy wrote as a relationship guide for his female partner. I posted this list previously under the heading of `No hints please. Just say it!'.

I'm not talking about the rules again this time but about colours... specifically about the various unfamiliar names given to the hundreds of shades of colours. I remember back in secondary school, my science teacher asking the class, "How many colours are there in the rainbow?" Of course, the standard answer that came back from us students was seven. Well, that's what the textbooks tell you, my teacher said. "If you are to go and ask a shopkeeper selling paint," he continued, "he will say that there are hundreds of colours."

Indeed there are... a few hundreds from what I can see in Wikipedia's article on this topic. Unless we are working in an industry that depends on colours (for example : fashion design, paint, lipstick, electronic display screens), most of these names would escape us, let alone identify which shade of primary colour it is.

I just found out that there are two sets of primary colours : the Red/Green/Blue grouping is called the additive combination (as in overlapping projected light or CRT display) while the Red/Yellow/Blue grouping is called the subtractive combination (as applied to pigments and dyes). All the other colours can be obtained by mixing of the primary colours, in varying proportions or degree. And since there can be an infinite combination of such mixes, there is therefore an endless shade of colours. New names are coined to go with the new shades, which sometimes add to the confusion.

Apart from the primary colours, the established secondary colours are well-known and readily identifiable. Colours like brown, pink, purple, grey and orange are easily understood. It is when we come to the derivatives that we get stumped. Maroon is reddish-brown, or is it brownish-red? Beige is a popular colour but is it more pale-brown or pale-yellow? Cyan is another well-known modern day colour that's found on our computer display screen (although the origin of the name is quite ancient). It is a blue-green combination... but how much blue and how much green?

The names of many of the colour shades come from nature, especially plants and flowers. Names such as peach, lavender, periwinkle, lilac and asparagus (yes, there is a special shade of green that takes its name from the vegetable). Some natural sounding names are easy to identify (charcoal, ivory, maize) while some takes a bit of describing (fallow, teal, russet). I am quite hopeless at identifying colours. That is why I guess, I like to stick to grey (or sometimes spelled gray) as my favourite colour... there's just light grey, dark grey, ash grey, smoky grey and maybe one or two more. Pretty drab and unexciting, huh?

So what's the colour of this orchid flower?

My previous post on a similar subject -> Colourful words.
Interesting source for origin of some colour names -> The colour of words.

The absence of darkness is light

My current read is a novel I borrowed from the local library called The Rule Of Four, written by Ian Caldwell and Dustin Thomason. It has been three weeks since I first took it out and I still have not finished reading it. I am perhaps two-thirds done... pretty slow by normal standards but I want to complete it nonetheless.

It is a story about two university students trying to unravel the mystery contained within the pages of a book written by an Italian during the Renaissance period. Quite heavy going sometimes.

Anyway it is not my intention to do a book review. I just would like to share a passage from the book which I found quite enlightening. I was afraid if I wait until I finish reading the whole book, I might forget where the passage is. In this paragraph, the narrator is musing about his room-mate and fellow researcher...

The fact is, Paul has always kept secrets from us. For years he hid the truth about his childhood, the details of his parochial school nightmare. Now he's been hiding the truth about his relationship with Taft. Close as he and I are, there's a certain distance now, a feeling that while we have a lot in common, good fences still make good neighbours. Leonardo wrote that a painter should begin every canvas with a wash of black, because all things in nature are dark except where exposed by the light. Most painters do the opposite, starting with a whitewash and adding the shadows last. But Paul, who knows Leonardo so well you'd think the old man slept in our bottom bunk, understands the value of starting with shadows. The only things people can ever know about you are the ones you let them see.

The Leonardo mentioned above, is of course, Leonardo da Vinci, the genius artist, inventor, mathematician, engineer and everything else. The last sentence in that passage is the one I really like.

I guess I am like that... I don't reveal too much of myself. The surface me does not tell too much of the inner me. Even close friends or family members have different bits and pieces of who I am. If they are to gather around and share information, some of them would probably say, `Hey, I didn't know that about him.'

The only things people can ever know about you are the ones you let them see...

Early withdrawal will lose interest

I think I'll write about an interest subject today... yes, that's right, an `interest' rather than `interesting' subject. Although I do hope the post may turn out interesting for readers in the end.

But first, I have to go back in time a little bit. It was the winter of 1983 and I was in the final year of my engineering degree. One of the toughest subjects in that degree course is Structural Mechanics, not one of my stronger suits. The professor who taught us that subject is Dr. Neil Taylor, a brilliant and aggressive man who's quite unlike any of the other lecturers in our faculty.

Dr. Taylor is slim and tall, sports long hair to his shoulders and keeps a beard and moustache. He normally wears a white shirt with a narrow tie but with collar unbuttoned. Over this he dons a black leather jacket. In fact, he looks more like a rock star than a university professor. His classes are never boring. He speaks in a loud, clear voice and at great speed. You'll never fall asleep during his lecture... or perhaps you dare not fall asleep. He'll pick a bored face among his students in a second and start shooting questions about the subject at hand, just to make sure we all understand what he's talking about. I was always afraid to be caught by him because, as I said, I'm not terribly good at Structures.

He would start his lecture by first talking at length about a particular topic. After that, he would scribble out his notes, longhand, on the blackboard. His notes are copious and he writes like he speaks... at great speed. When he runs out of writing space on the blackboard, he returns back to the earlier section and starts rubbing them out. Sometimes, those of us slow writers would need to hold out our hand and shout, `Whoa! Sir..', and he pauses for a while to give us time to catch up.

It is during such pauses that Dr. Taylor would usually tell a story or share bits of trivia that has got nothing to do with engineering. It can be something about music, movies, sports or current affairs... practically anything. And such interesting stories too... which sort of put the slow-writing students in a dilemma. Do you stop writing to listen to the stories and risk not copying down the complete notes... or do you continue to scribble furiously before he starts cleaning the blackboard and you miss the story being told?

I liked listening to his stories so I trained myself to be speed-writer.

One day, after filling the blackboard with his sprawling handwriting, he paused for a while to allow us some time to finish copying... and then starts to share another trivia.

`Do you know why most of the big time bankers are Jews?' he asks. None of us answer... so he begins telling the story about Christians being forbidden to be involved in usury and that the Jews may not charge usury among their own kind but can do so to others. He said that money-lending first started out as one of the least respected professions and strangely enough today, it is the money-lenders who control most of the world's economy.

`I bet you didn't know that, did you?' he mocks us. `Heck, does anybody even know what usury means?!'

`Yeah,' I immediately quipped. `Interest...'

`Who said that?' Dr Taylor looks around at his students, his eyes wide in disbelief. I sheepishly put up my hand halfway.

`Right, you are!' he said. And with that, he turned around, erased the blackboard and resumed writing his notes.

When the class was over, Dr. Taylor heads out of the room but when he reaches the door, he turns back and walks to where I was sitting. He bends down to my eye level and nodded to me to say, `Usury... that's good.'

From then on, I could no longer remain low-profile in Dr. Taylor's class. But the good thing was that my grades in Structures improved...

Nature at home...

I was doing a spot of gardening earlier today and came across a reptile and an amphibian enjoying their day among the leaves of my plants.

Garden snake on the stem of a potted palm

Frog taking a rest on an orchid leaf

Look before you leap

Today is a special day. It is the first time I am able to put up a post in this blog on a day that comes once in every four years. February 29, 2012.

We all know what a leap year is... but why does it have 366 days instead of the 365 that we get from a normal year? Nowadays, it is very easy to get an answer to this question... just google. But back when I was in primary school, I remember looking for the answer in a thick book in the school library.

It was 1972 and I was in Standard 4. My teacher told me that the month of February in that year has 29 days. When I asked why, she told me to look for the answer in a book that explains about our solar system. I remember looking at an illustration in the book showing the Earth with an imaginary line circling the Sun. The caption below the picture says that the time it takes for Earth to do one complete revolution around the Sun is 365 and 1/4 days. This then equals one year. But then, it would be impractical to have a quarter day at the end of each year... just imagine that there would be a December 32nd that lasts for only 6 hours, from midnight to 6am, and that New Year's Day (1st January) would then start at 6am. Everything would be out of sync.

It was Julius Ceasar who first introduced the concept of leap days when he invented his Julian calendar at around 45 BCE. It was not terribly accurate and was later improved by a new calendar created by Pope Gregory XIII around 1,500 years later. The Gregorian calendar now forms the basis of time tracking and measurement for most of the modern world today. But why do we need to add that extra day every four years? It is because of the seasons. If we don't add the extra day, we lose about 6 hours every year and winter in the northern hemisphere would start to move forward. The recoupment of that 6 hours each year for 4 years ensures that the seasons happen at roughly the same time every year.

While refreshing my knowledge on this subject earlier today, I found out that the Earth's orbit is not exactly 365 and a quarter days. It is approximately 365 days, 5 hours, 48 minutes and 46 seconds... and I say approximately because this duration can vary slightly depending on the relative position and influence of other planets. This means that even adding a day after every four years is not really that perfect if we look at the big picture. But the effect may only be significant in 8,000 years time. That's way ahead in the future for us to worry about... let the people living at that time solve it themselves.