Life is but a dream ……

Watched the live telecast at StarSports - the final of the Asia Cup 2007. It’s Iraq vs Saudi Arabia. Despite the war and all, the Iraqis were really in a different class.

Where is Malaysian football? In the current ranking of FIFA, Malaysia is at 148. What is the number of football playing countries in this world? If the number of the countries in world, somehow increases, our football team will make sure that they will occupy the bottom 10 ranking.

According to my niece (a national hockey player), her women hockey team can run faster than these football players. Pathetic isn’t it?

Anyway, with the resignation of the top FAM officials, it is hoped that we could improve. One thing though, there should be no politics in Malaysia football.  As I wrote previously, politics sucks.

Put the nation first, your own greed second.

Saturday dawn, just after Subuh. KLIA, again.

No, I’m not flying anywhere, this time I was asked (with no option … er, forced?) to bring the whole of my in-laws to KLIA to send out my BIL who’s pursuing his doctrate in Upsalla University (founded in 1477), Sweden. There were also my in-laws’ in-law. Dah macam hantar orang pergi Mekah pulok.

The truth is, I don’t know why Sweden. I heard rumours saying that it got something to do with the not-so-good-result of his IELTS. Anyway, congratulation. Hope that my BIL would come back with a PhD in EE Engineering. It’s the tax payer money, you know.

He brought his wife and little boy. The wife, a medical doctor has to take long leave (mengikut suami) for this. I wonder, would a guy sacrifice his job (promotions etc.) and follow the wife instead?

I remember Uppsala. A mere 40 minutes by train from Stockholm the capital city. Nice little city with more bicycles than Volvos or Saabs. During summer in Uppsala, the sun’s always there in the sky. The prayer times do not actually following the sun’s location (pakai mazhab apa, I’m not sure). They have to use some other calculation methods. It is in the reverse, during winter, when the sun’s shying away, and darkness’s (not the Dark Lord you-know-who) everywhere. The Artic Circle is about 300 km north.

Once, me and friends dropped by in one big mosque in Malmo (south of Sweden). It’s zohor time and the azan has been called. Then suddenly there’s a screech sound outside the mosque. There’s a sports car driven by a beautiful blonde with designer sun shades. Cool. She had the Maria Sharapova look-a-like (I honestly don’t care whether it’s Venus or Saturn who won the Wimbeldon, Maria is the best).

Then a Tom Cruise (nay, maybe Goran Ivanisevic, he’s taller) look-a-like, complete with designer stubs, wearing tight tees and trackbottom (is that what you call that thing?) came out from the car and went straight through the mosque main door.

He then put on a robe and head gear and walla!, he transformed from Goran to Syeikhul-Azhar look-a-like.

Anyway, that nice Tuan Imam from Bosnia was really glad to meet us, his brothers from Malaysia.

Today 27^th July, six years ago Waseem Akram was born. It’s really a joy to have little Wassem in this world. He has his own way of maneuvering in this world. In his world. Which often misunderstood by many. He sometimes challenged both me and his mom on how to view life differently.

Sometimes, life (similar to Malaysian politics) sucks. Maybe once in awhile we need Chuppa Chups. But we never give up. We work hard and we strive even harder.

Dear Son, we are here for you. We deputise the role of the Almighty, the Nourisher, and will provide you all that you required in this world. I’m not going to start giving word of wisdom like your Grandad said to me on ‘tree stumps’ and all (not yet anyway). But listen to this:

In this world, first we struggle, we make effort, we work hard.

Then, we make doa (and we cry) and prayer to the Almighty.

Then, we put our lives in His Hands i.e. tawakkal.

Finally, we should be redha and thankful on whatever the outcomes.

And, start all over again.

Finally, dear Son, let me quote what Seneca said, ‘As is a tale, so is life, not how long it is, but how good it is, is what matters’.

Last weekend was quiet eventful. Well, first I raced myself to get the copy of HP and DH novel from Tesco at RM69.90 (it’s kinda stupid to pay RM109.90 from the bookstores like Popular, MPH, Times, well they even staged a protest, and who cares).

While waiting for my dear wife attending the school meeting (aku heran la, HM SMKBS ni tak ada keje ke, asyik meeting, meeting , meeting, and thus disturbing my weekend, warga pendidik … your valuable comment please), I went to my office and managed to clear some urgent issues that need attention.

Come Sunday. Went with my dear wife to the market at Jalan Othman, then a quick but sumptuous breakfast at Taman Dato’ Harun. Sent Ahwaz to his cricket training at PJ Club. Then I went to Subang MAS Sports Complex, joining the otai gang for a cricket net practice (or simply netting). Wow, it’s been a while since I engaged myself in bowling and batting. Hampir juga semput, but I managed.

Late that afternoon, we’re invited by the nice lady I met in Holland to her beautiful bungalow at Section 11 PJ (a walking distance to UH). There’s something familiar with the look of her husband. Who is this gentleman?

What I didn’t tell you is that, when we met up again in the restaurant, I did said something (nice) like this to her.

‘Kak F, I bet that your own spaghetti recipe is much better than the one that you’re eating now.’

‘Quite true (eh, boleh tahan jugak cik kakak ni!), but my mee udang is the best.’

So that afternoon, she served us (together with her other ‘Holland’ friends) mee udang and a host of other nice delicacies. If not because of my wife, I would have asked for the third serving of that mee udang. The splendid jemput udang (fried together with corn) and the crème brûlée, really spoilt me.

In between the good food and all, there’s these conversation by the ladies.

‘How nice these lacquered lapik pinggan?’

‘Ohh, these … I bought them in Ho Chi Minh city. Remember these rose petals, they costs 5 euros each in Amsterdam.’

‘This lovely crystal costs me just 300 euros, it’s a bargain in Venice. See my name engraved by the person who made it. It somehow matches my new chandelier and the whole ambience of our newly refurbished house.’

‘What did your husband bought you in Amsterdam?’ Kak F suddenly asked my dear wife. Dah sudah!

‘Er, nothing of these sorts.’

I did bought lots of chocolates, some make-up accessories, t-shirts etc. Hey, don’t expect me to buy lapik pinggan?

Then they talked about shopping in London, Paris, Bandung (why Bandung?), Beijing.

OMG … my wife is watching, listening and learning fast.

Until now, I still don’t understand why these craves for shopping (shopoholic, ladies any comment?).

I hate shopping (except for my own stuff la). When I was traveling to and fro to KK, every time my wife always pesan something. Tikar Sabah la, pearl this, pearl that, puah kumbah. There’s a nice place for shopping these sort of thing called the Filipino Market. It has more that 50 shops selling more or less the same product. Know what, I just go to one shop (normally near the entrance) and buy everything there.

Just after we had eaten to our fill, we moved on to the lounge, only then I realised that kak F’s husband is a famous composer (actually I’m sparing the details, as it’s quite embarrassing to me as to how I found it out). Anyway, I remember that I really liked one of his songs back in my teens, and now in Sinar FM. I even wrote the lyrics in my diary.

Penantian

Berapa lama mesti kunanti

Sinar cahaya matamu

Gemerlap bagai bintang

Menghiasi malam

Malam yang menutup diriku

Berapa lama perlu kutunggu

Lontaran suara dari bibirmu

Memecah hening taman

Taman

syurgawi

Pada sebuah hati yang sepi

Penantian suatu siksa

Yang tidak tertanggung

Oleh tubuhku yang kering dan layu

Kepastian suatu penawar

Dalam suka dan duka

Yang meniti hidupku

I’m just adding to the statistics. Got myself into the hype. I just got myself J K Rowling’s final installation of the HP series i.e. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Seriously, I really do not know what’s the meaning of deathly hallows. Usop (Staroba84), please help me here.

How did I hook up with HP, you might ask. Well, exactly three years ago, I bought Ahwaz (my eldest), a Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone book just to get him to read.

‘My dear son, when I was at your age I have finished all the Enid Blyton’s books from Noddy to Famous Five up to Secret Seven (except the Mallory Tower & St Clare’s series … too girlish la), all the Hardy Boys (remember the Mystery of the Aztec Warrior), Nancy Drew’s, Bigglesworth’s (in the Terai and other adventures) and others, at least you should adopt the interest to read books.’

‘Ayah, those days you don’t have internet and Astro, and no PS. And no cricket machine balls.’ He’s right in that aspect, but I’m still in the opinion that we need to inculcate reading habits, especially to the youngs.

Ahwaz did finish the HP book. That book was in the bookshelf for God knows how long, until about a year ago when out of  a sudden, I picked it up and started to read. Oh swell, I just can’t put it down.

Then I bought one by one, all the HP series, as if I’ve stuck to the books. My dear wife also shared this idiosyncrasy.

Just to let you know that Ms Rowling wrote her first book in one of the cafés in Edinburgh (pronounced as ‘edinbere’, ‘e’ ialah ‘e’ tanda). A really, really nice city. I was there many times (Princess St, Portobello, Royal Mile). The Hogwarts (HP’s school) was inspired by a school named Fettes College in the city. Well according to Ian Fleming, James Bond was there.

Al-Fatihah.

To all the great and gallant RMAF servicemen and woman who died in the line of duty near Genting Sempah. Our deepest sympathy and ucapan takziah goes to the families. As the saying goes, berat mata memandang, berat lagi bahu memikul. All I could say is berbanyak-banyak bersabar, ini semua dugaan dari Tuhan.

In my opinion, it’s due to the weather and the terrain. And human and mechanical failure to counter the adverse weather condition. Plus the deep ravine in dense tropical forest, made it difficult for search and rescue operations. I’ve been to Taman Negara (sebagai contoh la). If you are in the middle of Malaysian rainforest, you can’t even shoot a flare, as the flare light won’t get pass the tree canopies. The jungle is not favouring anybody, and the Jungle is Neutral, said Colonel Chapman.

I don’t think it’s due to the helicopter. That Sikorsky S-61 chopper (bukan basikal chopper) must have adequate maintenance and service records, and certain airworthiness certificates before it could be allowed to fly. Helicopter is termed as rotary-wings (as opposed to normal aeroplane as fixed-wings), which means that to lift the aircraft, the blades will act as wings. If the blades gone, the chopper will drop like a ripe jackfruit. If the tail rotor gone kaput, the chopper will swirl like mad. What about the tiltrotor aircraft like the V-22 Osprey (shown in the early scenes of the Transformers movie)? Want to know that, I’ll give a special one-on-one session cum lecture on tiltrotor aircraft.

Anyway, do you know that version of Sikorsky is quite popular. In fact the Marine One, the US President official chopper is one of its variant.

My personal experience with helicopter was during my offshore-going  days (and some steel cast helicopter models), mostly from Kerteh to Petronas offshore platforms. I had many trips to the offshore. The furthest is more than 178 km to a platform named Pulai-A near the border of Indonesia’s Natuna Islands.

Before boarding to the chopper, there will be a briefing about safety measures and so on. But frankly, if there is any mishap or accident (God forbid) the chances of survival is very, very marginal. Either you’ll be drowned, severed by the really fast rotating blades, eaten by the sharks (not all sharks are like Bruce, sorry … Bruce don’t eat fish, these great white sharks like human flesh), or burnt to death (sorry again for these gory scenarios, but it’s the truth).

To survive a helicopter crash you need Mr John Rambo to be the pilot, using stolen Russian ‘flying tank’ Mil Mi-24 Hind-D helicopter, and in the desert of Afghanistan, and of course this could only happen in a Hollywood movie.

Glad to be back home at last. Glad to be with the wife and kids. And cats. For the whole of yesterday I (i.e. my senses) was quite alright. But my body aint. It’s like the mind and soul are ok, but the body failed to synchronize. I thus, sleep, and have slept a lot. It was not a pleasant sight, according to my dear wife, on how I looked (and sounded) during this marathon sleep. But I still love you nevertheless, she said.

Right, so where was I for most of last week. Its work and play.

I arrived at Amsterdam Schiphol Airport (AMS) from KLIA (KUL) after a long haul 12 hour journey. As always, I looked for an aisle seat near the exit door (yeap … on economy class) so that I could stretch my legs and its gonna be easy to go to the loo, when nature calls.

There were two mat saleh guys sitting beside me. A Welsh guy named Peter (an ex-cop, really?) who took a time off to OZ and Indon. The other was a Dutch guy named DJ who works for an NGO company doing some rehabilitation works in Acheh (such a noble cause) especially for the tsunami aftermath. He told me that it’s still can’t be explained on why the Baitur-Rahman mosque is still intact when everything (he meant everything) else swept away by the water. The two guys were good people, though the lead stewardess Ms Uma Devi (this beautiful lady looked like a Malay) purposely tossing the perfume lotion on the floor where we stretched our feet (Encik, tak boleh bau ke stokin mat saleh tu, nodding to DJ who appeared to understand nothing).

‘Saya faham, tapi itu stokin yang saya ada.’ DJ spoke up in his thick accent, when Uma left. Anyway, DJ was kind enough to scribble some places of interests in Amsterdam for both Peter and me. In fact he even bought me a train ticket gratis (that’s free in Dutch, and Indon) from Schiphol to Amsterdam Centraal (central train station). Peter asked whether he could buy me a drink in Amsterdam. Yeah, why not (do they sell fruit juices or sparkling mineral water in the pub?).

‘I’ll send e-mails to both of you, and the photos as well. Take care.’

I managed to meet up with my customer (after few SMSs and phone calls, nearby his Museum Hotel) who came here 3 days earlier for another assignment of his. But not before I spent like 1 solid hour admiring Dutch master painters’ masterpieces at Rijksmuseum. I can’t actually describe how everything else is keeping still while only the milk is like flowing, when looking at Vermeer’s Milkmaid painting. And obviously anything from Rembrandt made it worthwhile paying the 10 euros entrance ticket.

Let me skip the Red Light District story. Pass.

The next morning we took a train to Apeldoorn. It’s an hour of smooth ride. We were greeted by Nico Liem, who’s in-charged of international marketing and chauffeured us to the Head Office in his new 3-Series.

‘And before you ask, let me tell about myself. I have some Chinese Indonesian blood.’ Ohh, no wonder Nico looks, not that Dutch.

After a quite successful presentation on our global company and the Europe Office (I did a short presentation on the Malaysian office) and as on why our customer should choose us for their system and safety solutions in the Caspian Projects (and hopefully other projects), and factory visits, we then concluded the day and off for lunch.

I reminded previously in my email to Nico and Will de Groot (the MD) that if they wanted to treat us lunch, get us the halal food or at least seafood. So they brought us to a posh restaurant called Navet. It’s a really fine dining, course by course, no doubt, though the theme was seafood.

And with that business was over, and both of us were officially tourists from Malaysia.

That afternoon we took a 20 minutes train from Amsterdam to Zaanse Schans (read my previous blog post) where we met some Malaysian Malays.

On Thursday we took train to Den Haag (The Hague) the capital city. Took a tram to Madurodam to see the Holland in Miniature, which is quite impressive. The buildings are solidly made, and the scaled vehicles (trains, tram, cars, lorries, aeroplanes, boats etc) were actually moving. There were sounds and lights too. Then another tram ride to Scheveningen, a beach resort. The weather was not in our favour (and why was that?), at around 16 to 18 degrees C, and windy too. Else, we should be seeing people (bodies) soaking in the summer sun, enjoying the nature in the most natural (naturist) way.

‘Eer brother, should we go to the mosque, at least to balance up (and to spin some good story to our spouses) our tour? It’s in the city guide map, anyway.’

‘Yeah, why not.’ Replied my customer, who now has become my brother-in-adventure in this foreign land.

After a long walk across the straats and canals, we arrived at the Turkish mosque called Fatih Camii. We were greeted with smiles from the few gentlemen in the mosque’s entrance. ‘Are you Malaysians?’ I felt relief (similar to the feeling when offering solats at 35,000 feet above sea level during the flights). This is the best thing of all the places in Holland.

Since we had done our jamak prayers, we said the tahiyatul-masjid prayers at the mosque (and took some pictures to back up our story).

And to balance it further to the dark side, that evening, I went to a cinema called Pathe (read my review on the last movie I saw) to watch HP and the OOTP.

On Friday morning, I said bye-bye to Amsterdam and hope to see you soon (not having to wait 19 years like this one), maybe with my dear wife. And off to Schiphol Airport.

From AMS, I had to take Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt (FRA). And from FRA, another 11 hour flight to KLIA.

At FRA, the airport security was tight. Really tight. Something like in the US airports, except I didn’t have to take out my shoes. From one terminal to the other, during check-in and boarding, I have to take out my watch, wallet, everything in the pockets, including the belt. As many times I had to do this (maybe 3 times), that many times, I had revealed some sightings (not so pleasant, I think) of my checked boxer shorts. I hope I wasn’t offending anybody …

Zaanse Schans

We just had our business mission accomplished after we came back from Apeldoorn (1 hour away by train from Amsterdam Centraal) in the early afternoon. Now it’s time to transform from a control system business development in marketing / sales / engineering expert to purely tourist with few hundreds of euros in my wallet and a brilliant summer to enjoy.

Transformed! After just watched Michael Bay’s Transformers, I did better than those liveless GCI autobots. Took off my tie, put on my 501s, a black tees, and a black Dockers jacket. And walla! A tourist from Malaysia, not that anyone would care, anyway. Took a 20 minutes train to Zaanse Schans.

Zaanse Schans is a town in the Netherlands, a fully inhabited, open-air conservation area and museum on the bank of the river Zaan in the Netherlands with characteristic green wooden houses, tradesmen’s workshops and historic windmills. And it’s really beautiful and pictureques place, like what you see in a typical postcard from Europe.

Then we saw a group of tourist with familiar traits. That can’t be. These people are Malaysian Malays. Not that I’m not pleased to see them. Not that I’m behaving like the Malays in London, who don’t give a damn when seeing another fellow Malay.

‘Assalmualaikum!’ There’s four ladies and one gentlemen in the group.

‘Waalaikum salam.’ I  replied in such a way like there’s something stuck in my throat.

‘Small world.’ Indeed it is. ‘So who are you guys?’ Asked a nice looking lady in that group. Before we could answer, she continued.

‘Oh, we came here because of a conference. But I’m following my sister. She’s the one who attended the conference, this is my daugther (cute looking daughter) who studied in Bath under scholarship, and those are my sister’s colleague with her husband. Nice to see you. You came here on business?’

Wow, how can she said all that in one sentence.

‘No, we are tourists. Nice to see you all too.’ We moved on, as if there’s more interesting things to see than people from Malaysia. True indeed.

Unfortunately (or fortunately …) we had to come back to Amsterdam with the same train with them. There’s a few minutes to spare before the train arrived. Still not feeling satisfied with my answer, that nice looking lady again inquired (macam Spanish Inquisition pulok).

After telling what need to be told about work, life etc., we know that she has a little brother who actually reports to my friend i.e. working in the same oil company. Indeed it’s a small world.

When we arrived at Amsterdam Centraal, we said good-bye to each other, with smiling faces. Hoping not to see them again, my heart whispered.

‘Ok, let’s go for lunch (this was our second lunch, dinner, whatever, the sun still up there), we’ll go to the same halal restaurant, that’s place seems quite far from the madding crowd.’ I told my friend.

We ordered a wonderful Egyptian shoarma dishes with special sauce and all. We normally seat by the sidewalk to enjoy the summer,  but that afternoon we opted to seat inside the restaurant. We almost had a nice, peace and quiet lunch until …

‘Small world indeed!’ The same nice looking Malay lady came bustling quickly and sat next to our table.

I think in this world, each one of us, is closer to each other than we think. Not by six degrees, maybe much lesser. Much, much lesser.

Frankfurt Airport

I have 2 minutes, exactly, before taking the next flight to KLIA.

Take care.

MAS Golden Lounge, KLIA

I’m enjoying myself here for the last couple of hours and a few more hours before my late night flight to Amsterdam. It’s endless supply of good food, drinks, internet, entertainment ad infinitum plus shower, prayer room, massage chair (for real massage in this lounge you have to pay with your tooth and nail, oh how I missed my masseur a.k.a my wife).

Remember the Caspian Sea project? That project brings me to the land of the Dutch. I’ll spend a week (1/2 day of real work, the rest … summer holiday) here.

The last time I was in the Netherlands was 19 years ago. I vaguely remember the place. Well I know its flat. Canals. Bicycles. Cheese. Windmills. Clogs. Trams. Red Light districts. Red light what? Well, it’s in the tourist brochures. I’m sure if it’s safe for tourism, it’ll safe for me (just kidding).

Ok lah, if time permits, I’ll post my blog when I’m not feasting my eyes with Rembrandt’s, van Gogh’s and Vermeer’s masterpieces.

There we were, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. While waiting for my dear wife attending Wassem for his turn to be massaged by the physiotherapist, me, Ateef and Ayra were in the car (Ahwaz’s at PJ Club). We have been visiting this place almost every week for about a year now. Thank God, we have seen a lot of improvement in Waseem, especially with regard to his concentration as well as his tantrum control.

Anyway back in the car,  I had to entertain the girls.

‘Look Ayra, can you see the chicken?’ ‘That’s a hen Daddy’, said Ateef. Right.

‘H - heh, E-N - en, hen’, spelled Ayra. ‘And there’s the rooster. It has the red thingy on its head and another red thingy hanging under its beak.’ I tried to get it right this time.

‘Silly Daddy, the one on top is called a comb, the one below is called wattles’, explained Ateef. Really. Here she goes again, another lesson on chicken anatomy. Maybe my kakak princess could one day be a wildlife expert like Steve Irwin a.k.a the crocodile hunter (she could easily tell you the difference between crocodile and alligator).

‘OK girls, let’s role play. I’m your Captain. We are on board of a really cool spaceship’.

‘Look kakak, that cat-like alien feeds on little children.’ Ha, ha gotcha.

‘Eeee, nooo, help’, they screamed.

‘Don’t worry, girls, your Captain Daddy will blast those aliens to smithereens with this powerful laser gun,’ I said while pushing the hazard light.

‘Microgravity, microgravity,’ crackled Ateef tussling her body at the back of the car. This soon followed by Ayra. The seats had been flattened so that they had plenty of room to play.

The other day, while the seats were down and the kids were not around, I said to my dear wife,’ Jay, do you think we could, er, we could, you know, there?’, while pointing at the flattened backseat. ‘Eh, you jangan nak mengada! Nanti tak pasal-pasal kena cekup oleh JAIS.’

Back to the spaceship, Ateef said, ‘Captain, boogie at nine o’clock.’ Mama is coming.

McD restaurant, somewhere in Singapore.

Hi there! I was here in this tiny island since last Tuesday. There’s a Tech Fair & User Conference held in my company regional office. The occasion was quite grand. The opening ceremony was made by the MM (a.k.a LKY). It was in the news as well as in the tele (the republic tele that is).

My mission is accomplished. Thank God. Remember the mega ship project I mentioned previously, I managed to secure an exclusive Feedback Session with the snr manager responsible for the project. In addition to that one of the User Conference speech presentation material (delivered by the VP of the same company) was co-written by me.

The hotel that they put me in is not bad at all, on the waterfront, so they said. Except that, I’m beginning to really miss my kids and their mother.