Intermission v5- the search for the female ego

I was having tea with a friend yesterday, when we started talking about the dangers of an ego. Yes, egos are labelled as a masuculine characteristic. Culturally, possibly through the onslaught of feminism, it has become associated with patriachy and in its diabolically extreme form, chauvinism. As I chewed on the honey-coated waffles with vanilla ice-cream, this pertinent question came to mind: Do females (categorically, girls, women, MILFS and grandmothers) have an ego?

I'm no guru, so such a question is hard to quantify. That is, you simply can't measure the magnitude of the female ego just by looking at hen-pecked boyfriends or husbands. A few of my girl friends actually admitted that there is such a thing, but is their definition, albeit a social construct, identical to the archetypal male ego that both genders have come to acknowledge? If women admit to having an ego, what are the reasons for it? Is it possible (at all) to derive any concrete conclusion or patterns from the proposed observations? I guess at the end of it, I might not even produce any valid results within this discourse. In the contrary, it might even confound both the reader and myself. So let's take it easy, shall we? We'll take a microscopic look at the term of question, the ego, before working backwards ( there might be certain aesthetic & esoteric terms that might be hard to comprehend, given my background in psychology & media studies. If it really irks you, just post a comment below)

First, if you flip the pages of the dictionary, it produces 2 meanings to 'ego'

1) The Freudian perspective: The conscious mind of the individual. It functions as a medium of translation for the Id and the super-ego. For example, you are sexually attracted to members of the same sex, but it isn't culturally acceptable. What does your ego tell you? Watch Brokeback Mountain for the answers

2) Self-esteem. Ah, now this is the root of our problem. When you talk about self-esteem, or in simpler terms, self-confidence, it applies to both sexes like a nice-fitting t-shirt. From learning to walk, to jumping off a plane even when you're afraid of heights, its common information that these activites allow us human beings to be more sure of ourselves. People with poor self-esteem have either no egos (they're so timid they assume they can't do it even before they try) OR inflated egos (in most extrovert temperaments, its used as a cover-up to hide their inadequacies). So yes, if you observe the reality of the examples, you will find it doesn't add up, does it?

Now, this might add even greater confusion, but for starters the purpose is to de-lineate the generic male ego from the self-perceived female counterpart. After all, just like photographs, you can only compare them when you have one in your right and the other in your left hand. Superimposing both together only makes it worse. The trick lies in this simple question, which both guys and gals can answer.

A woman can allow a guy to lead in a relationship as long as the guy makes wise decisions and is constantly senstivie to the girl's feelings. But when the roles are reversed, will a guy allow the gal to do the same, EVEN when the decisions are exceptionally wise and she's extra-sensitive to his feelings?

Keep that question in mind, because it connects with the next argument, the idealist and materialist view of a relationship. Really, just taking on this subject drives me nuts, but hey I'm a firm believer that knowledge is power, so let's just spread the love around lah.

In a nutshell idealism refers to the concept of immediate knowledge as the product of mental pictures or imagined ideas. If you look at it, that's pretty irrational. In fact, if you ask me it's not practical, but sure does assert the divine right of the 'informing spirit'. On the other hand, materialism is concerned with practical outcomes of these ideas. Its a more pragmatic approach, and it does not assert absolute truth which transcends the context where it can be applied. So to a materialist there's always a cause and effect relationship. Something must be done to make something happen or prevent it from even happening.

Logically this differentiation in philosophical trends leads to this application:
When deciding on something...here are the varying resposnes

A gal says: I want the relationship to work, therefore I must do this
A guy says: I am a guy, so I must do this

See how the dynamics play out? To me, its kinda crystal clear.

The problem here, is not because guys are shallow. Even the smartest blokes fall victim to the above paradigm. The essential thing to note here is that the female ego, if ever it is called such, is strikingly different from the generic one. Because guys are not doing their job well, the girl shoulders more responsibilities, resulting in she making more decisions and taking the lead, but the motives are pretty practical, she just wants things to work out. If a guy leads, its primarily because he feels its his primal duty, that he's the enlightened one. So even if he's deluded...sorry gals. You stick with him, you follow his madness.

Taoism rocks because of the Yin & Yang. Its the foundation of balance which makes life, including love and romance something beautiful. Chauvinists or SNAG? Tyranny or tamed ego? I guess as a guy, the words in the movie 'Hitch' once again become a timely reminder: It's all about the basic principles. Extremes are always bad for girlfriends, its the balance that keeps the mind razor sharp. A pity....we guys just never seem to get it.

Pagoda Dreams: Day04 (Above: Angkor Wat at 7am....)

Despite the adventure, this holiday was never a bed of roses. There was an argument the night before, and I couldn't say I wasn't sore about the issues raised. Just before getting 4 hours of sleep (to catch the dawn of Angkor at 5 in the morning), I told GD that there are are some people I will never travel with again.

Nevertheless, having my moods spoiled by the tiff that night was certainly the last thing on my mind, as we made our way to the ticket booths of Angkor Archaeological Park. 20USD for a UN heritage site with over 100 temples and ruins seemed reasonable. To my disgust, the tickets were issued by Sokha hotel, a privately-owned and luxurious resort located opposite our guesthouse. Rich businessmen were reaping massive profits from a place that belonged to the people of Cambodia. It was total justification for my sense of indignation.

Since the land area was simply too much for us to explore on foot, we hired a tuk tuk to take us around. Unlike the cheating Chinese driver who brought us to our hotel, this guy was simple, safe and honest. You could leave your things in his vehicle while you played hide-and-seek with your mates in the temple, so we liked him alot.

Its sad to see that these once magnificent pagodas now have the appearance of giant Lego sets. During Pol pot's totalitarian regime, many of the temples were damaged or blown to pieces, their bricks scattered across the entire Angkor region. Many of these sites, which are opened to tourists, were actually painstakingly re-constructed by archaeologists and historians from France, who just happened to be the former colonial masters of these beautiful country. Some towers had steps so badly damaged that artifical ladders had to be installed in order to allow visitor access. Every single stone brick that lay on the ground belonged to a specific location. If you were not a researcher, you wouldn't know where.

Ok, without further adue, here are the 'greatest hits' of our 6 hour tour of Central Angkor. I bought a guidebook from one of the peddling school children there, in order to know the Whats and Whos of the places we visited. The buildings and names are kinda confusing, but I'll try to fill you in as we go along :P

The dawn of Angkor Wat. This was taken around 5.30am in the morning, so we were still pretty dazed.

Outside the walls of the courtyard. Each section (N-S-E-W), or wing to be precise is embellished with carvings of famous Hindu Legends. As it was still dawn, there wasn't enough light to capture those details.

The view from the top. The observatory is approximately 50m above the ground. The steps are so tiny you need to be on all fours just to get up there. Kinda like postrating before you meet the gods.



Camera stunts. GD was shivering while he took this. Due to the angle of elevation, stooping down to look at me was actually pretty daunting. The railing on the right was so rusty, our palms turned reddisn brown after the descent. There was so much iron oxide, I was worried that washing my hands in rainwater might cause tetanus.

A scene from the Ramayana on one of the SW arches. In an alternative intepretation of the Hindu myth, the monkey brothers Valin and Sugriva are at war with each other. Rama comes to the aid of Sugiriva and slays Valin with a spear, who dies in his wife's arms.

The ardous climb up Phnom Bakheng, the state temple of the first city in the Angkor. We were halfway up hill but the temple was still nowhere in sight. The entrance to the temple is surrounded by guardian lions, and an interesting feature of the place are its full bodied devatas, or female deities with full, round tits.

Introducing the Bayon, one of the world's most enigmatic and powerful religious constructions. In fact, the towering faces of tranquility that embellish the apex make it even more beautiful than the grandeur of Angkor Wat. Unlike most of the ruins, the Bayon's structure encompasses both Hindu and Buddhist influence. The faces were modeled after the Khmer ruler Jayavarman VII. I kinda think he looks like me. Big eyes, long round nose and thick luscious lips. Cambodian hotness, anyone?

A military procession during the battle between the Khmers and the Chams (12th century). Its quite a feat to intepret all the carvings, because they don't follow the linear fashion that characterizes European bas-reliefs. You have alternating scenes of daily life, war and worship all taking place on the same piece of stone. Its like a comic book with pictures that never run in sequence. The most prominent feature of these works are the represenations of kings or army commanders, who are usually larger than the rest of guys.

Historically, this place situated at the East Angkor region, is known as Ta Prom. I prefer to call it the haunted valley of trees. It has the most intricate designs on its walls, most of them stone mandalas which depict the life and incarnations of the Buddha (not forgetting those asparas with bountiful bosoms). However, with all the trees growing, it makes the whole temple spooked. In fact, those trunks of nature grow all over the place, they make the bricks as soft as clay. There were a few 'no entry' signs located within the temple courts. I wondered what they were for after playing hide-and-seek, turns out the stones there were kinda flimsy, but they still were strong enough to take my feather-like weight.

Pagoda Dreams: Day03

Magdalene was a dark pretty lass I knew as a little boy. During long journeys, everyone in the bus would chew gum, but Magdalene with her golden tan and smile would say chewing those polymers would make your mouth sore. Of course, there were many other things she said, but I wasn't even 13 back then. Maybe that part of me will be visible in my head when I'm 50, but for now that's all that's left of the end of my childhood.

On the present situation, the writers of the Lonely Planet have to be given credit for sourcing all modes of transport in the most remote places on this earth. Its good to be near ang mohs in a bus, train or even a bicycle. They speak nuts but they certainly know the way. If you happen to be the only tourist in a dirty bus with defective nylon seats, its a definite cause for worry. It was on our way to the temple town of Siem Reap that the 2 Australians with rice sticks got off the bus. I never knew there was bigger shit waiting for us



I wonder if they were ever waiting for us at the bus terminal. The others had this unnecessary fear of our bags getting stolen. The driver kept them inside the boot below the vehicle so whenever we stopped for latrine breaks or meals we wondered if some monk or beggar would sneak by the side and take them away. By the time we arrived at Siem Reap, the driver opened the boot and flung everyone of them onto the dusty ground. I rushed to down to guard them, thinking that they the approaching crowd wanted to take them away. It seems I thought wrong. Those people were after me. Taxi and tuk-tuk drivers, more than 30 of them, pestered me like bees to honey. The rest of them disembarked and were harassed in return. You could shake your head or brush them away, but their stinking hands, foul breath and stained banners of Angkor Wat and the hotels just got ever closer.

"5 dollar 5 dollar, my tuk tuk can sit all 5 of you...5 dollar!!"
"我的车可以做五个人，你们跟着我，我不会害你们的！！"

To the young and impressionable, know that being a celebrity sucks big time. You will have to patronize stinking fans all your pathetic life. We eventually sat on the chinese fella's tuk tuk. It wasn't a good move. The drivers there think we're from China and they say we're stingy. Get into the vehicle and they start asking about our plans in our place and their fanciful packages of Angkor tours. Like I mentioned earlier, poor developing countries have mobbing taxi drivers. The cost of living (for the Cambodians) is so low that 1USD can sustain a family for a month. If you ignore the dirt and desperation these guys have on them, you kinda learn to appreciate the finer things in life.

Welcome to Chenla Guesthouse, a decent cosy family inn situated along Route 6 of Siem Reap's tourist area. The inn is managed by a family who cook, clean and do your laundry for as long as you stay there. They speak English, so we were able to get valuable information about the temples and our plans for the journey to Bangkok. Once inside, you have to take off your shoes and walk barefooted, and the traditional Khmer music that drifts from the temple opposite makes it all the more tranquil. The owner's daughters are really sweet. Everytime they saw us eat and we thanked them, they giggled like little girls. They're simple, salt of the earth folk whom you just find it hard not to love.



After catching our breaths and having our late lunches, we wasted no time in catching the sunset of Angkor Wat. Admission to the temples are free after 5pm, so usually most tourists (ourselves included) would get in during the evening and purchase the tickets for the next day. The temple is 7km away from our guesthouse, thus getting there on foot was a challenge. Well we had our fill of nice parks, cool cafes and the blood bank hospital at the outskirts of the temple entrace. Most of the mines have been deactivated by then, so most tracks are safe to tread. By the time we saw the long hard road stretching out like a carpet in front of us, our legs figured it was time to hail a tuk-tuk.

So far I've lived a short life of 24 years. These are the few things that took my breath away.






1) The love of God
2) Watching a whale in the paciific
3) Stonehenge
4) One of my Muse's pictures (that WAS my definitive version of the Mona Lisa Smile)
5) Sailing with dolphins in the Indian Ocean
6) Shooting stars within a host of constellations
7) Angkor Wat

For a small person like me, I guess experiences always come in large packages. History gets me high. Just touching those walls took me back in time, to the age of topless dancers and narcissistic despots. The stone carvings of gods, demons, beasts and men all tell fascinating stories of the human spirit. Life during those times was both imperial and mystical. Shifting cultures changed the the sanctuaries from Hindu to Buddhist. Today the monks, who are caretakers of the sacred temples are practioners of the Theravada ( which means Teachings of the Elders) Buddhism. Some spanish MILFS were fascinated with my t-shirt, which has a Good and Bad Bush. I bought it from Bangkok a few years ago, so it has practically nothing to do with Angkor Wat.

Pagoda Dreams: Day02

Losing the tracks of time just happens to be one of the many euphoric side-effects of travelling. For us, I guess we lost it because we were constantly on the run. Our bus was scheduled to leave for Cambodia at 9am, thanks to the arrangements of Mr. Freaking Awesome. The owner of the guesthouse had no idea that I slept over, so it saved us the trouble of paying another 10 bucks for the night. For my breakfast, I helped myself to the stock of groceries we purchased last night, before waiting for the urge to shit. Vowel clearance was deemed to be essential. I guess all of us dreaded the thought of shitting below a pile of shit in a pail.


It's 3 hours from Ho Chih Minh City to Moc Bai,the Vietnamese-Khmer border. One of the issues as I mentioned earlier, was the case of the visa requirement for travellers entering Cambodia from Vietnam. Everyone onbard the bus started digging into their wallets for 25-100USD, including those passengers with the green Vietnamese passports. It can thus be assumed, that Mr. Freaking Awesome gave us the correct information regarding the immigration regulations between the 2 countries, which also applied to all those foolhardy European backpackers who simply love to take 'risks without relief.' When GD saw the bus attendant handing out visa forms, he asked me if we should take one. I was almost convinced, but I hesitated and told him to wait for the attendant to come to us. As it turns out, he took our little red books, but we didn't pay a single cent. It appears that for all the complaining of our local government back home, our neighbours hold us in VERY high regard. Behold, Singaporeans are Kings of ASEAN LOL.

To everyone's surprise, the border looked even newer than the Tuas Second Link! Amazing, just when we thought there will be masked men with AK-47s demanding that we disembark and strip to our undies. Imagine a country club in the midst of rural rice fields and wooden houses, and you get to the bubble town of Moc Bai. Clean, air-conditioned and 100% disinfected with automatic flush urinals. The bus attendant just took our passports and passed them to the customs officer, who chopped it without even knowing who we were. When they were done, a nice fat lady (fat ladies there are pretty nice) started calling out the names. They stared at the red books long enough, so we saved them the trouble by helping ourselves without having our names pronounced with some foreign slang. We refrained from doing business with the mobile money-changers, for they were suspected of carrying fake currency, especially when it came to the Washingtons, Lincolns, and Franklins.

Just when we thought our soft and fat asses were going to enjoy the luxury of super highways and smooth, black tar, our bus embarked on the iconic mud paths that characterize Cambodian roads. Some of the the tracks were so narrow and bumpy, we almost wondered if the bus would slide down the hill. I slept and drank lots of water through much of the journey. There wasn't much to be done, unless you couldn't take your eyes off the green rice fields, skinny cows, half-naked children and rainwater the color of teh-tarik. The bus finally stopped at a road-side stall for our lunch. Everyone hungered, but no one could speak Khmer. The fat woman (again) gave us standard rations and charged us 1USD each. I must admit, that in the deepest moments of hunger, even sub-nourishing food with flies tastes great. In Cambodia, our handphones could roam but all outgoing calls were barred. As I washed my hands from a cistern with green algae on its bricks, I felt civilisation fading away from all of us.

If you actually look at the map, you will find that the Mekong River, the 'snake of water' where all Southeast Asian civilisations flourished, is pretty complicated. It flows from Siem Reap in the north all the way to Phnom Penh, the modern capital of Cambodia. With highly-advanced amphibious bridging systems, this natural transport barrier was easily overcome. Once the bus was on the platform, the bridge became a water carrier of land vehicles. The view of the river is rustic no doubt, but damn the teh-tarik colored water lah.

Question: What is the most distinguishing feature of poorly developing countries?

Answer: Mobbing Cab drivers (Please remember this point, because the next entry will record the most traumatising event the five of us have ever went through).

In a nutshell, Phnom Penh was scary. The people there didn't disturb me, although if you happen to be a tai-tai, princess or just some soft male pussy you might just suffer from bipolar disorder once you're there. To me, the place was a hazardous living organism. Spend more than 24 hours and you wonder if your own life expectancy was suddenly halved. Out of the comforts of our hotel, the city wreaked with the stench of carbon monoxide and a host of other greenhouse gases. It felt like you were breathing in flour. Second-hand exhaust became thick fog in the streets. We tried exploring our surroundings, while the air constricted our sanitized Singaporean lungs. 6-7pm, my eyes started to itch and my stomach growled. It was getting bad. To everyone's relief, the lighted sign board of the ONLY fast-food restaurant in the city, Lucky Burger, managed to satisfy our needs. Just when you thought fries and burgers were cheap, dinner cost us 5USD each that night.

Ah, a few of you might wonder, were there any shopping malls? I guess as far as we went, there was one. Just a few steps from the mall's entrance, we were greeted by a snatch thief running out and disappearing into the darkness of the wet market across the road. He wore an unbuttoned pink shirt and ran barefooted. By then the sun had set,one in every ten street lamps were working and there were no Caucasian tourists wandering the streets. It was a dark sign that could never be ignored. I came across this notice board at the exit of the supermarket inside the mall. I was expecting them to showcase the employees of the month, much like what NTUC does. Instead, those were pictures of shoplifters caught in the last month. That thief we saw earlier, I guess he was lucky this time round.

Back in the comforts of Asia Hotel, it didn't take Ah Da and Xiong long to fall asleep. They wanted to catch the World Cup semi-final between Germany and Italy. While Vince was enjoying his bath, I said my prayers and wondered about the people back home. I finally told GD how I felt about her. He said that where I am concerned, someone like her is hard to find. Perhaps he's right, but that belongs to another story. If you miss someone, try to miss that person once in a while. Sanity for survival, for me at least.

Pagoda Dreams: Day01

We were staying in a small guesthouse known as the Bi-Saigon, located along Pham Ngu Lao Street. The guys wanted access to the shopping spots, which were less than 2km away. You might think that taking a meter-taxi would save transport costs, but communists even bring their economic depravity into their machines. The numbers on the LCD jump as fast as your pulse. From 10,00 dong (1SGD), the fare climbs to a heart-stopping 100,000 (10SGD) for a 5 minute journey. Most of us had a budget of less than 1000SGD, so things were starting to get a bit more scary.

Ben Thanh market is a bazaar located across the September 23 park in Ho Chih Min City. Stalls have a diverse range of merchandise, from poisonous animals preserved in vinengar (the people demand 5USD if you intend to take a photograph) to plastic flowers and hand-made tourist souvenirs. The stall owners are hungry for business. If we walked away because the price was too high, they would attempt to negotiate again. It's evident asian buyers aren't as magnanimous as Western travellers, who usually don't mind paying a little more to boost the country's economy. Sometimes, my friends just bargain WAY too much. I think such extermity lacks generosity, they think I'm just too dumb to get the right price. I got myself a small wood carving of a Vietnamese girl for only 2.50SGD, while GD was estatic when he got the same thing for a dollar less. Cheap thrills, fat boy LOL.

Worn out from window-shopping and smelling like the dried foods on sale, our famished fantasies led us to 'Pho 2000', a small coffee stall near the market. Local fare so good, even former US president Bill Clinton visited the place when he made housecalls on the country. Vietnamese sauces use alot of lime, pepper and sour plums, giving a tangy spice to go along with your dishes. If you ask me, a visit to Vietnam is never complete without a bowl of traditional Viet beef noodles, or Pho-Bo as what Kylie calls it. The meat's relatively lean, given that the cattle in Southeast Asia look more like African marathon runners rather than Sumo wrestlers. It's also more tender and juicy, so it melts in your mouth, even during rainy afternoons. All these, including the thickest pineapple juice I've ever had, for the simple price of 3SGD.

It rained for most of the day, thus there were quite alot of places I failed to visit. Nevertheless, there were more important things at hand. None of us wanted to be stranded in Vietnam, since our return air ticket was to be obtained from Bangkok. This means that the cheapest way to get back to SG alive was to go through the dreaded land of Cambodia. I was optimistic, I mean the place looks very beautiful from pictures in books and the Internet. A few of them however, had the weirdest misconceptions of the country. One, who probably hasn't been reading the news, says its a harsh militant state and and the guerillas there will castrate little boys like me. Another thinks Angkor Wat is another version of our Chinese Garden. To solve all these problems, we solicited the services of Mr.Freaking Awesome. He was the most friendly tour agent in the vicinity. What's more, he could speak pseudo-perfect American English. Here are excerpts of his professional advice, its pretty embarassing that we took all of it way too seriously *grins*.

"There are 3 ways to get out of Vietnam to Cambodia. You can take the normal bus, which is slower, or the van, which gives you privacy but the prices change. Well, there's the express bus, which is 14USD/person...six hours straight"

"Who says you don't need a visa? I'm from Vietnam, and I need a visa too!" (Now to this point, EVERYONE was taken in...except me. I will explain later in the next entry)

"There are two ways to get to Siem Reap to see Angkor Wat. You can take a boat, which goes along the River. Man, the view is FREAKING AWESOME. On the other hand you can take the bus. Now, I gotta remind you guys the buses in Phnom Penh, aren't as nice as those we've got here, and its 5-6 hours. It's freakin ass pain."

5-7pm, right in the heart of Ho Chih Min City. While the others were indulging in their massage and spa treatments, GD and I decided to head to the streets for some cam-whoring. The picture on the left is the People's Community Building. It's something like the parliament house, with guards patrolling the area and preventing any wandering soul from going in. Most of the colonial buildings are built in the Parisan style, as Vietnam was a French colony before the chain smoking Ho and his jungle rats took over. There is a statue of the venerated founder teaching some kid right at the entrance. Just across the busy road would be the Municipal Opera House. Pretty fusion style, with semi-naked renaissance statues and the communist banners hung on the windows.

It was a late dinner at Phong Phee Restaurant, as recommended by Vince. Conventional chinese style cooking, but when we're in a group or pack, seafood works best for us. The prawns and sea-snails were totally fresh, even eating the head of those bright orange crustaceans felt heavenly. Oh, not forgetting the beef 'hot pot' that came after all the dishes. It was immensely satisfying. With heavy stomachs, we headed back to the night market just next to the daytime Ben Tanh area. It's a collection of makeshift stalls selling apparels and acessories. The greatest bargain: 'Original' Nike and Adidas clothing for only 6USD! GD shops almost as much as he eats, which can be pretty traumatising to those who don't know him well. A total collection of more than 20 items (Tees, shorts and saccharine sweet sugar cane juice) in 3 hours of shopping. I was worried we won't have funds to last all the way to Bangkok. As for the rest of us and our harvest, let's say we didn't fall too far behind.

Our guest suite had a unique oriental architecture, coupled with paintings of Victorian Shanghai and Van Gogh. In my opinion, its the most arty-farty hotel I've ever stayed in, for an astonishing cheap price of 10USD a night. This girl was displayed on the wall of our bed. I actually took another full frontal photo, but deleted it in the end because it was too disturbing. At the bottom of the painting, you can see her shoes, but she has no feet. Fortunately, I was too tired to notice during the night, but when Xiong told me the next day, it spooked a great deal.

Pagoda dreams: Prelude

Five guys, 3 countries. For everything else, we don't have a mastercard. I had to join the others a day later, because of my grandfather's funeral. Sitting alone in the airport, I tried to recollect the rollercoaster ride of emotion that overwhelmed me for the past few days. Plans for the grand finale vacation, exams, Mel's birthday, the KL scandals and the cold peace of ah-gong as I saw him for the very last time.

Indeed, there is a time for everything.

I text-ed goodbyes to my classmates before I switched off the phone. There were only a handful of Singaporeans on the plane, while most of the Viet passengers had killer bods. For a moment, I couldn't understand why GD said the place sucked. I perused the final chapters of Kazuo Ishugiro's 'Never Let Me Go'. It took feelings five years back in time, when I left for England all by myself.

He who dreamt of the Big Ben, now dreams of the pagoda.

A middle-aged woman and her teenage daughter sat next to me, barely minutes before the propellers started to spin. The mother took a Bible out to read. Vietnamese christians are an oxymoron. Ho Chih Min, the founder of the country, was a communist. I shifted my glance to the window. By now, the plane drifted like a cloud in the sky. My country looked like a micro-chip with intricate circuits. I believe that's the way the world tends to see us too.

Passengers arriving at Saigon had to complete departure cards. Since I lacked a pen, I politely borrowed one from the girl sitting next to me. Her mother, who had been smiling at me from time to time, decided to strike up a conversation. She asked the usual traveller's questions, and found out that I was a Christian too. I asked her about life in Saigon, and she shared with me about the hardships christians faced in a modern communist society. I exchanged emails with the girl, before giving my best wishes to the family.

Shabby-looking security guards lingered at the exits of the airport. It seemed so much smaller than our budget terminal, with all the people crowding around the arrival halls. Taxi drivers never stopped asking, but GD and the rest were coming to pick me up. There wasn't much place to walk either, as the partition for the arrival hall was only 20 meters away. When it appeared there weren't anymore planes scheduled to land, the crowds dispersed, along with the cabbies. Fifteen minutes later, GD and Xiong were seen walking briskly from the carpark at the entrance. The words of my best friend were more audible as they approached me.

"Still sitting down there for what, take your bag and follow us lah!"

阿公的故事

Wednesday, the 28th of June, I received two missed calls from my mother while roaming the busy streets of Kuala Lumpur. I tried to call back, and wondered about the reasons for the calls. If my parents had nothing important, they would never want to disrupt my fun during a vacation. When I finally heard my mother's voice through my mobile, there were many things I wished I never said or did that afternoon.

"Ah gong has passed away"

Her voice was calm and gentle, like a woman who had been prepared to take the worst in the most peaceful way possible. Unfortunately it did not alleviate the tsunami of confusion I had inside. Firstly, I was never close to my paternal grandparents. I found them loud, uncouth, and traditionally stubborn. There were many things I did not understand and couldn't care about. I seldom heard the stories they had to tell, because the teochew dialect was hard to comprehend. I could remember my grandmother making me laugh, but ah-gong rarely spoke to the grandchildren. According to my father, he never played nor bonded with them. Still, as I came to know more about the man who named and endowed such aspirations within me, I got to know a sentimental, resilient and industrious personality. In essence, grandfather was a 'self-made' man.

A few hours before mother called, while we were waiting for our rooms in the hotel lobby, I saw an old grandfather's clock just next to the reception. These clocks could last for eternity. All you had to do was was wind up the gears whenever the chain ran short. Grandfather kept a similar clock in his house too. Once, when we were in primary school, my cousins and I played soccer inside the hall. When I accidentally kicked the rubber ball into the glass door of the clock, it was the first and last time I saw my grandfather shout at us..

I was only 11. It's weird how certain things just stay inside your head and not go away. Stranger still, for that recollection to become an omen of sadder things to come.

I played virtual soccer with Jasper in the shopping mall. A huge tent was erected in the square, with a massive LCD screen installed inside. The retailers told us that if we spent more than 10 bucks on their World Cup merchandise we were entitled to 3 free shots a the game. I was never a lover of soccer, even though I played much of it in primary school. By the time I reached my teens my love and passion for 22 blokes on a ball turned into absolute boredom. As I rammed each ball in the 3D penalty box, I wondered where all the 'soccer genes' disappeared to. Before the war, Ah-gong was fortunate enough to go to school, where he joined the soccer team. Being a late sleeper, he could stay up all night just to watch premier league and world cup matches. He never missed a single match, until this year.

Just how much of nature and nurture lie within each person? As I write this, I'm contemplating searching the Chinese press archives in the library, to see the columns and poems that my grandfather wrote, before circumstances took it all away from him. I do believe that if he had his way, he would have been a journalist. It is ironic, that for such a thing to happen would mean that I might not even exist. Before ambition came into his life, my grandfather was a man driven by compelling passion and devotion. It was a quality rare in our society during those turbulent times.

Young and full of ideals, he loved the daughter of a textile merchant, who eventually became the mother of my 1st aunt. She died while giving birth, from a severe of case of hemorrhage. Overwhelmed with grief and a crying infant, he lost interest in everything that brought him pleasure. His family, fearing for his well-being, hired the services of a matchmaker, who arranged for my grandmother to marry him. When his father died, the brothers fought over the family fortune like a pack of scavenging wild dogs, but my grandfather did not take a single cent. Instead, he used his savings, money earned from smuggling canned food during the Japanese occupation, to start a humble shop dealing in marine products. Life was harsh, yet four of his six children went to university. Today, one is an internationally-renowned fashion designer, whom my female friends sometimes talk about.

I look at my own life, the things I cherish and the people I love. In many ways I could never measure to the meaning of the name he gave to me when I was born. As the first grandson to bear the family name, I wonder how different life would have been if I was ever in his shoes. Perhaps, it would not be such an impressive account of rags to riches.

For those of you who have been to Kylie's place (She's the neighbor to one of SG's most powerful men), you might notice a framed calligraphic work in display on the floor of her dining hall. The words read, 大展宏途, which means advancement and prosperity.

In most cases, the meanings of Chinese names are taken from idioms, proverbs and fortune-tellers. For most of his life, my grandfather was a staunch atheist. Therefore, this name reveals not only the life he lived, but the life he wanted for all later generations.