F for Feriha

She wiped her brow, weary from the daily routine in the steamy environment. Soaping, scrubbing and kneading the varied body types day in and day out was not how she had envisaged her life. "My name is Feriha, which means unique, the only one. I don't feel unique or desired."

Things were not good at home. Her youngest, barely a year old, was in the care of her mother-in-law while the elder boy was living with her mother in Konya, a conservative town in Central Anatolia. She was twenty-five but felt like forty. Maybe she was pregnant again. Secretly she hoped it was the case, so she could have that month during confinement to look after the child and herself for a change. Her husband, Cagan, worked in a textile factory on the Asian side of Istanbul. She worked in the popular tourist Cagaloglu Hamam, near the Sultanahmet Mosque, on the European side. This meant that they only managed to see each other twice a month.

"What irony, his name means holiday!" Feriha muttered, exasperated. "Wait, I can't be pregnant after all, the timing's all wrong" resigned to her continued days in the steam hall.

Her concentration was not good that day. She kept thinking about what she had overhead earlier. The other girls had been talking and laughing in the alcove, but when she approached them, the twitter turned to silence. She only caught snippets, 'Kuala Lumpur' and 'next year'. She was one of the newer apprentices' and ranked low in the chain of experience. Perhaps that was the reason she was being excluded.

On better days, Feriha would amuse herself by fantasising about the bathers. What sort of lives did they lead? Where were they from? Americans, British, Australians, Germans and now the hoards of Russians and Chinese? Feriha found the Asians particularly interesting. Japanese women seemed confident about their bodies, their naked form, compared to other Asian women who were obviously uncomfortable to bare their bodies in public despite the camouflage of the smouldering hazy hall. 

"I only know Konya, my home town; Bursa where I trained for the Hamam, and now Istanbul. Will I ever see the world?" Feriha wondered wistfully.

"Feriha, come here" called Melis, supervisor of the ladies section. Melis had a story of her own to tell. She had put in her years in the steam baths and had earned the right to supervisory status. Her name meant honey bee and she was indeed very sweet to the man boss.

"Yes Melis?" Feriha hoped she was not in trouble, daydreaming being her usual sin.

"You're not pregnant, are you?" Melis shot the question like an arrow.

"Er no. Not possible" stammered Feriha, glad she had just done the maths earlier.

"Good. You will be going to Kuala Lumpur in Malaysia to our new Hamam in three months' time. Tell your husband to meet the boss next week to discuss this matter", Melis instructed in a no nonsense manner.

"Yes Melis" said Feriha, numb inside despite the swirling steam around her.

"Me going to Kuaalaa Lumpuur?" finding it difficult to pronounce this unfamiliar name.

E for Mista Ee

Mista Ee gingerly made his way down the unevenly ridged gangplank, his black flat cotton shoes making it easy for him to secure his footing. The twenty day voyage had affected his sense of balance no thanks to the choppy seas and the monsoon tail winds.

He hardly had time to take in the moment, before passengers as excited as he, impatiently pushed past him with their belongings. "Watch out, you will fall. Then how will you find work?" Mista Ee hollered. He was cautious by nature and thankful that his planning had brought him to a new beginning. He even coined a title for himself. If any one asked his name, he would proudly reply "Mista Ee". Ee being his clan name, preceded by Mista, as he had heard there were many Europeans in Malacca and they would be familiar with the term. He smiled, pleased with himself. It was 19th December 1906 and he had arrived.

Standing on the dock, his thoughts wondered back to Guangzhou, to the morning he informed his mother that he had decided to go by boat to a far away land to find work and start his own life. His mother reminded him "You are the eldest and have a duty to your parents and the family." But his mind was made up. He had heard stories of magical places from seafarers and merchants during his days of hauling cargo on and off boats returning from India, Malacca and Penang. These images had taken over his mind like a disease. It wasn't a sudden decision. He had planned this for some time now, a year to be precise, saved money for the fare and some extra until he could find work.

D for Dali

My love affair with Salvador Dali began in 1970. The place: Tate Gallery   London, as it was known then, when Tate Britain or Tate Modern did not exist. It was love at first sight. I remember the moment. Gazing upon The Enchanted Beach where three ethereal figures, gossamer yet powerful, appeared like an apparition before my eyes. Ripped female form, almost manly but anatomically precise. 

Engaged in awe for what seemed like an eternity, the gentle golden hues rolled like waves, as if, of a desert sea, beckoning. Stepping back for a wide-angled view, it was not an illusion after all. As if to satisfy lustful need, I looked around and more treasures emerged that moved me. 


Prints of the Persistence of Memory, 1931, yes the melting clock http://www.wikipaintings.org/en/salvador-dali#supersized-featured-221654 ; My Wife Nude, Contemplating her own Flesh Becoming Stairs, Three Vertebrae of a Column Sky and Architecture, 1945  http://www.wikipaintings.org/en/salvador-dali#supersized-featured-221177 were purchased and firmly entrenched on the walls of our first home, the Nude securing a place in our bathroom.


Remember when the love interest could do no wrong. Even lengthy, incongruous evocative nouns strung around esoteric verbs seemed poetic. Dream caused by a the flight of a bee around a pomegranate one second before awakening lingered in my right brain for a long time. 

I put it to good use years later to embellish my Postgraduate Pathology lecture series on Fine Needle Aspiration Cytology for lumps and bumps in the neck and breast. Lateral thinking at work. A bit of Dali did rub off it seems.

Like all love affairs, the fire burns out when the passion is seemingly one-sided. Life happens; two babies later and a career to nurture, the Dali prints fade and find themselves hidden behind newer interests.  

As fate would have it, a chance holiday of the time-share kind to lesser hamlet, Perpignan, at the Franco-Spanish border, led to a renewed connection. Only 40 kilometres away lay The Figueres Dali Theatre-Museum. Inaugurated in 1974, the old Theatre was transformed by Dali into his own Neverland of sorts - from golden egg turrets to Mae West optical illusion displays. And so an old relationship was stirred.

Encoding, storage and retrieval, especially of long term memory, is immeasurably large, if one can begin to fathom that concept. After all the human body is made up of a bunch of molecules bouncing around, never static, determined by a unique DNA footprint, as visualised by Dali in Galatea of the Spheres 1952.

The world is getting smaller, true, it is. Dali returned to me reborn in the form of a lotus, the ArtScience Museum Marina Bay, Singapore in 2011. His works were in-your-face outstanding. Dalis' genius gave the breath of life from embryonic etchings to adult-sized bronze, gold-leafed mythical sirens bearing fluttering butterflies, rendering this surreal world believable. The lotus flower opens to reveal the core. 

In relationships, if one keeps learning from each other, there is always a chance of continuation. Life may distort, like the ebb and flow of waves, but the ocean remains deep and true and seldom falters.

C for Comfy Convenient Couch

C for Comfy Convenient Couch


After a hectic day, weaving through down town traffic and finally arriving home at 10 pm, I definitely could do with one of these. Kick of the shoes, peel off  the clothes, hot shower, snuggle into peejays and I'm set for a couple of hours with my books. 

But wait, I have to write the 'C' blog for the A-Z Challenge. Easily done with my comfy convenient couch. There's lots of room, even with feet curled up, and ample space for the laptop. The fingers fly, as time is running out, only 10 minutes to midnight before I have to write the next one, D for ? Mental note: better time management tomorrow.

That done, now I can enjoy my couch. Stretched out lengthwise or otherwise, fluffing cushions and finding the most comfortable position would be the fun part, exactly the way your pet dog would fuss around his basket before he rests his head. You would never have to worry about where your favourite books are - they are all right there. I guess you just have to remember if the one you want is to the left, right, front or back. 


One thing you would have to do is stretch a little, bend a little and reach for that book. Hey, this may turn out to be a form of exercise routine, maybe not to replace your Pilate's class though. It would be wonderful if one had relatively longer arms and a really flexible neck for this couch to be used to its full potential.


Who designs these things anyway? Creativity personified. Visual evidence of 'thinking out of the box'. This almost perfect couch needs one improvement, if I had my way. An armrest broad enough for a coffee mug, then you don't have to move an inch as all essentials are in place. And as the second page is turned, you fall into blissful sleep.  

B for Bunohan: A-Z Challenge

B for Bunohan

Bunohan is the latest indie movie created, written and directed by Kuala Lumpur-based film maker, Dain Said, which premiered to Malaysian audiences in March 2012.

Bunohan, which means murder in the Malay language, is a story revolving around three step-brothers, their father, a wayang kulit artiste, and a deceased wife whose spirit still wanders their village due to her deep love for her husband and son. 

Set in rural Trengganu, Malaysia's beautiful white beaches and overhead angry monsoon clouds reflect the angst and dark moods of the characters in their struggle to preserve family heritage against greed and commercial property development. 

Surreal landscapes of wooded mangrove swamps sent spine tingling chills down this Malaysian viewers' spine. The cinematography was no less than artful and elegant. 

The trailer  Bunohan the movie  introduces the brothers Ilham, a complex murderous character, and Adil, the kick-boxer, in their coastal village of Bunohan. The heavy local dialect (with Malay subtitles) adds that extra touch of mystery.  

Screened at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) in September 2011, reviewers 

http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/review/bunohan-toronto-review-236173

picked up on the 'focus on family and social environment than violence'.  Described as being in the 'realm of arthouse meditation than that of the martial arts film', the vivid kick-boxing footage are pure cinematographic gems of this exotic body-contact sport.

'Magical realism...with echoes of King Lear...shocking mayhem reminiscent of Tran's "Cyclo" ' are descriptions from another review at the TIFF. http://www.variety.com/review/VE1117946050/

Wall Street Journal, Life & Style, on March 14 2012, interviewed Dain Said and discovered the challenges of filming Bunohan during a monsoon and the high risk of snake bite by the deadly Malaysian pit viper.

http://blogs.wsj.com/scene/2012/03/14/how-to-shoot-a-kickboxing-movie-during-monsoon-season/

Research for this article revealed that there are hardcore fans out there, sufficiently inspired to seek out actual film location sites and challenge themselves to capture photographs that sparked their interest. Great shots!

http://www.flickr.com/search/?q=bunohan+film&z=e

Foot note for enthusiasts:DVD #Bunohan is available now at Speedy Video Malaysia

A for Alphabet Eyelashes : Blogging from A-Z Challenge April 2012

A for Alphabet Eyelashes

Alphabet eyelashes - why not?

Perfect for the starter Blog for Blogging from A-Z April 2012 Challenge. Nothing like some tomfoolery on April first. 

This brings to mind a story about eyelashes, true or false? 


When you haven't seen a particular school friend for many years, the immediate response is to check out physical appearance, while desperately trying to recall their appearance at last sighting, before going on to small talk to find out if they are still working or retired etc. 


You mentally tick off a check-list. 


Hair - style, thinning, receding, colour, roots; face - nip & tuck, nose jobs, lifts or best guess as you wonder if the jaw line was as chiseled as you remembered it; neck - the degree of turkey waddle (compared to your own) or the lack of it.


Travelling down to the trunk - Hmmm...generally thicker than before especially around the middle; wearing monochrome loose fitting clothes but compensated by branded accessories - a Louis Vuitton handbag, Omega diamond-rimmed Ladymatic and Farragamo pumps. QED: Well turned out to an Old Girls' reunion luncheon.


But wait, rewind to the face please. Do I detect some furry action in the eye area? Double take! Yipes! False eyelashes. Looking for a baseline comparison of eyelash length and thickness, I turned to have a good look at my neighbours' lashes. As I suspected, slight thinning, like the eyebrows and definitely not in fluttering full bloom like our long lost friends'. 


Voted at school to be 'most likely to succeed', hardly the type to have an intimate relationship with fantasy eyelashes. We are all dying to know what brought all this on... 

How on earth do I change to the new look?

I have spent hours scrolling through Help and all the videos, but the drop down list for layout and template does not appear anywhere?

Frustrated!