IN ALL my years as a journalist, I had never been on a junket.

Junkets are basically sponsored trips to review products or services. Having covered mostly politics and business news all my reporting career, all my work-related trips have been all work, no play and definitely no junkets.

So when a friend extended an invitation to stay at a year-old resort in Koh Samui that she's working at, I jumped at the chance. Called Absolute Sanctuary, it promised peace, tranquility and an opportunity to jumpstart my system with a detox programme.

Claire Bostock, the Executive Director of the resort, said there'd be yoga classes, Pilates classes and various detox plans. So Joanne, being Joanne, replied: Bring it on! Sure, I'll do the Ultimate Detox programme. Too many late nights, drinking and no exercise has slowed my metabolic rate down considerably over the years, and this was my chance to get my aging system going again.

After all, Absolute Sanctuary is the place one of Thailand's princesses goes to for yoga classes and where supermodel Elle "The Body" McPherson goes to for detox when they are in Koh Samui. How could I turn such an amazing opportunity down?

My first junket!
Photo source: Janice Lee Fang

So after flying over on the evening Bangkok Airways flight with my sister Janice for company, we had one last hurrah at Chaweng in downtown Koh Samui with a couple of drinks and it was early to bed.

Well, if I was looking to jumpstart my system, the week proved to be a complete shock-and-awe: Shock to my system and awe at the results.

At 7am on the first day, there was a knock on the door. It was the first of my four detox juice drinks for the day, accompanied by health supplements packed in five little ziplock bags. Oh boy.

By the time I actually woke up and went for my morning consultation with the Wellness Consultant, Dr Alister Bredee, I was quite horrified to learn that the Ultimate Detox programme meant a seven-day fast with only vegetable broth allowed and colonic irrigation every day!

Honestly, as ready for the first press junket of my journalistic career as I was, even I had to stop and wonder if I would survive such a gruelling seven-day programme. I've never been the dieting or exercise type, so would I be able to accept the Ultimate Detox challenge?

Bets, anyone?

Follow Joanne's seven-day experience courtesy of Absolute Sanctuary and Bangkok Airways at AsiaOne's new Relax travel website here.

reply

DID YOU say the pledge? Did you say the pledge?

It was something everyone was asking each other last weekend after the National Day Parade.

On 8:22pm last Sunday, thousands of Singaporeans stood at attention to recite the national pledge, clenched fists on heart, renewing the civil bond with their fellow countrymen by declaring themselves "one united people, regardless of race, language or religion".

The island-wide pledge coordinated on National Day saw people stop along Orchard Road to participate in the recital in the middle of shopping excursions, stand in coffee shops in the heartlands or simply in front of their television sets at home. Somehow the one-minute act seemed to capture the imagination of the nation when synchronised to be done together.

It was an exercise that put into action an issue raised by Singapore Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong in his National Day Message the day before: Social cohesion.

He had sought to inspire confidence in his televised message, recalling Singapore's journey since self-government in 1959.

He said: "Each time we were challenged, we responded as one, everyone pulling together and working for the common good. Each success cemented social cohesion."

Tracing the racial riots of Singapore's early years, right up to the recent H1N1 flu outbreak and the ongoing economic crisis, he'd identified unity as a key factor that has pulled the country through tough times.

"We must work hard to strengthen it, and to bridge potential divides within our society, be it between Singaporeans and new arrivals, between rich and poor, or most fundamental of all, between the different races and religions."

On Thursday, Minister Mentor Lee Kuan Yew made a speech warning Singaporeans of the dangers of closing the country's door to foreign talent. He stressed the importance of accepting and embracing them - once again, that same message of social cohesion.

This message, together with the organised pledge-taking across the Republic, comes at a time when the fabric of society has been tested in the past year - a year of furious debate brought on by the escape and recapture of terrorist Mas Selamat Kastari and the Aware saga of several months ago.

Both episodes had religious undertones that hinted at what PM Lee called those "potential divides" in Singapore society today.

Given the prominence the message has been given of late, it is almost certain that PM Lee will expand on its importance in his National Day Rally speech tomorrow - just how candidly remains to be seen. No doubt, he will touch on other topics such as economic recovery and Singapore's transformation, as he did in his National Day Message. But it's the sensitive subject of remaining a "one united people, regardless of race, language or religion" that will make the National Day Rally interesting to watch this year.

What will he say to build (or rebuild) social cohesion in Singapore?

Tune in to The Straits Times' live blogging tomorrow evening and leave your comments as PM Lee delivers his speech. Follow us "@stcom" if you prefer to get the updates on Twitter.

reply

I WAS on a break last week - in Koh Samui, Thailand. I flew Bangkok Airways direct.

So imagine my shock when news broke about two hours ago that a Bangkok Airways flight veered off the runway at Koh Samui's airport and crashed into a disused building - flight control? firefighting building? - due to bad weather.

At the time of this blog entry, one is confirmed dead: The pilot. Several are injured.

I'm, however, told by the husband of my friend who runs a resort there that hospitals are calling for blood donors of all types. Hopefully, that's just a precaution and not an indication that more casualties are to come.

My friend is currently on her way down to the hospitals with some of her staff members to see if there's any way they can help - donating blood or otherwise.

Source: AP

It just goes to show: When it's time for you to go, it's time for you to go.

All the precautions in the world against natural disasters, viruses and other uncontrollable elements just aren't going to save you.

It could have easily been us.
ST Photo: Joanne Lee

There I was, in Changi's Terminal One and later on the Samui-bound flight, trying to avoid getting too close to other travellers in case of contracting H1N1, wiping my passport down with wet wipes and using my hand sanitiser religiously.

My paranoia is probably semi-inherited from my mother, who till this day is afraid that a tsunami will hit every time we head off for regional beach holidays.

Thankfully, as far as my family is concerned, nothing's happened to any of us on any of our travels. We check out the terrain where we stay so we know where the high ground is, where the emergency exits are, etc.

This time, obviously, the main worry was H1N1. Now, however, my at-the-time careful H1N1-preventive measures taken when I was flying last week seem silly in the face of this latest tragedy.

In fact, I feel downright guilty that I'm okay given that I take air travel so lightly and never pay attention to flight safety videos when they are aired. If it were me on the plane today, I wonder how I would have reacted in the face of panic and mayhem.

Bangkok Airways is holding a press conference as I post this entry, let's hope there are no further casualties.

Read the update on the situation here: Thai jet skids, pilot dead.

reply

IF YOU'VE been following the debate in our Forum pages about violent rape and torture scenes in MediaCorp drama serials - the latest missive from forum letter writer Miss Ng Yee Ting here - you'd be familiar with the complaints that have been lodged against drama scriptwriters: That they use these scenes gratuitously as a cheap way to boost viewership; appealing to people's closet fascination with rape and violent crimes.

MediaCorp's defence has been that sexual and violent crimes are topics that are reported frequently in the newspapers, and viewers should be discerning enough to detect the immorality of vicious crime.

Miss Ng's letter today, however, argued:

"Newspapers report sexual and violent crimes factually, and temper their description without visual and sound effects.

People, especially children, are more likely to be affected adversely by seemingly real crime happening in front of them than in a factual newspaper report.

Thus, MediaCorp is wrong to justify scenes of physical violence and rape because newspapers do so."

I agree with Miss Ng and I do believe that youngsters during their years of character development exposed to such images on free-to-air channels might develop various levels of acceptable social behaviour. (Remember, I myself was hit a couple of times during relationship squabbles in my younger days as I blogged about before.)

But whichever school of thinking one leans towards, I decided to do something about it for myself.

Having been a journalist for more than a decade - in print, on telly and now online - I've slowly been more accessible to the public and have attracted attention both positive and negative.

I remember a scary email a couple of years ago from a viewer suggesting I get familiar with taxi company call numbers as I finished my shift at midnight and it wasn't safe waiting for a taxi by the road. He continued to say that, to ensure my safety, he had followed my taxi home the previous night.

Naturally, I freaked out. My family freaked out. Everybody freaked out.

So, after a recent family gathering during which we were talking about violent crime, my cousin decided that I required self-defence lessons. He'd been studying various forms of martial arts over the years and showed up at my office building yesterday with wooden knives and sticks for an intense one-on-one session in the gym.

(Aside: Punching and slapping one's cousin, and having him punch and slap me, is a rather awkward experience.)

Focusing on defence moves, he gave me very common-sensical yet very easily forgettable tips:

(1) Be alert: This might sound so obvious that it borders on the ridiculous as advice. Not so. How many of us walk around with our iPod earphones embedded in our ears, depriving ourselves a key sensory faculty - hearing?

(2) Be prepared: Again, so obvious. All boy and girl scouts know this. But I was warned not to wait around in public places leaning against a wall or a railing as it would put me off centre and more susceptible to being tackled.

(3) Don't attack back: If someone approaches you front-on and engages in close combat, it's better to go with the flow and let the attacker throw himself or herself off balance. (This assumes that you're balanced yourself though.)

Alas, my adhering to point (2) and (3) is somewhat compromised by something that my male cousin didn't anticipate: Girls wear high-heels. Oops. When we were younger, He-Man (my cousin) hadn't had to protect Sheera (me) on account of my footwear.

Nevertheless, I'll be taking his no-iPod advice. That, at least, will not deprive me of my hearing faculty when it comes to being aware.

So what's the bottom line of this blog entry? Just that whether you agree or disagree that the proliferation of violence in drama serials correlates to the proliferation of violence in real life, it makes sense to be prepared for any circumstance.

Anyone else has tips to share here?

reply

WHEN I read my Life! colleague Tara Tan's cover story today - Where have all the dancers gone? - I couldn't help feel a bittersweet twinge in my balletomane's heart.

You see, my passion when I was younger was ballet. I started the good-toes-bad-toes regime when I was four, and only stopped proper training when I went off to university when I was 18.

So obsessed was I that, at age 10, I wrote off to an English school and got in based on my Royal Academy of Dancing results, presenting my shocked parents with a fait accompli. (Of course, I wasn't allowed to go.)

Still, from four till 18, I trained at least thrice weekly at the Singapore Ballet Academy under local ballet doyen Goh Soo Khim, won several scholarships to train abroad and danced as a scholar with the Singapore Dance Theatre (SDT) from the days of its inception.

Why, do you ask, didn't I pursue my passion?

Well, I suppose I was a pragmatic Singaporean. My shrewd father planted thoughts in my head such as: "What if you get injured? You'll have no 'O' Levels to fall back on. And if you end up as a ballet teacher, will you be happy with the income level and will you be able to enjoy the quality of your life?" Totally logical. Sigh.

To his credit, he only required me to finish my 'O' Levels, and let me decide whether to do my 'A' Levels. Having being offered a position in the government's junior college Humanities Programme, and later getting a place in a top UK university, I knew I would break my father's heart if I chose pirouettes over political science.

So I hung up the toe shoes.

My last pair. Circa 1993
ST Photo: Joanne Lee

Back to why local dancers don't return though. The reason is simple: Artistes are simply not respected as they are in other countries for their talent and years of sacrifice.

It's akin to the argument about why Singapore sports talents choose not to pursue their particular passion - because the input greatly outweighs the output. True, the payout of true passion is never weighed out in gold, but in this materialistic world, unless you're a Tiger Woods or a Michael Phelps (in ballet terms: a Sylvie Guillem or a Darcey Bussell), it's hard to support oneself - and even a family - on passion alone.

What about the renaissance artists then? One might argue. How would we have had a Michelangelo or a Da Vinci if they paid more heed to their empty stomachs than sculpting or painting? Well, that argument holds no water, because in those days, artists were treasured and taken care of by the likes of the rich Medici families and various European courts.

So that is the nub of it. Who is going to step up to support our local artistes? As far as I know with the Singapore Dance Theatre back in the days, it had enough corporate sponsorship to cover its costs, but not enough to pay its dancers salaries on par with foreign companies. (Things could well be different now, I shan't assume.)

Also, reality check: Singapore is a little red dot.

Foreign companies simply have more talent to pit oneself against, and they have the choreographic breadth and the artistic scope for dancers to challenge and bolster their range.

Take Kuik Swee Boon - whom Tara featured in Life! today. He started his ballet training with us when I was about 15. (Men, you see, can start training much later in life unlike girls who need to start at four.)

Artistic Director of
T.H.E. Dance Company now.
ST file photo

After I'd left Singapore's shores to pursue an academic education, Swee Boon went on to nurture his exceptional talent and ended up as the SDT's danseur noble - the male equivalent of a ballerina.

Every time I watched him improve from performance to performance, I'd cry inside - because that could have been me. Indeed, when the SDT moved to its then-new premises at Fort Canning, he was my partner at the opening ceremony.

I'm much fatter now, obviously.
ST file photo

Swee Boon left Singapore and the SDT in 2002 to join Spain's Compania Nacional de Danza as a principal dancer - a great feat for a locally-trained dancer - in all probability for all the reasons I outlined above.

But he came back.

In 2007, he decided to return after five years "to pass on the knowledge" he had gleaned and is now artistic director of his own company T.H.E. Dance Company.

Hopefully more dancers like him will follow their dreams but bring those dreams home again one day. And, even more importantly, hopefully more corporates and the-man-in-the-audience will treasure our home-trained dancers as national talents that require more financial support if they stay in Singapore.

Maybe, just maybe, had that been the case back when I had to make those hard decisions, I would have chosen differently and not be sitting here at the computer now on my cellulite-ridden posterior.

Why do you think our dancers don't return? Leave your comments here.

reply

ANYONE who reads the ST Blogs regularly would know I'm a huge germaphobe and think we've been a little too H1N1 complacent.

So when I woke pre-dawn on Monday with acute spasms in my upper stomach area, I did what all hypochondriacs do: I self-medicated.

First, I swallowed ultracarbon tablets to mitigate what I thought was an acid problem. No luck, I threw it all up - with such violent retching that I triggered a migraine.

Then, I resorted to Traditional Chinese Medicine and swallowed a bottle of po-chai pills. Still no luck - up they came, with residual flecks of carbon tablets. Charming, I know.

At this point, the spasms were getting so bad, I was screaming in pain. So, H1N1 or not, I decided to haul myself to the nearest Accident and Emergency department at my nearest hospital (which, thankfully, was not Tan Tock Seng Hospital, home to the H1N1 petri dish - the Communicable Disease Centre).

Grabbing my bag - with its hand sanitiser and Dettol wet wipes conveniently inside already - I made sure I was fetched to hospital even though I didn't have a fever. No taxis, just in case.

I sent a little thank-you Heaven-ward (no pun intended) when the A&E sentries confirmed I had no fever and deposited me in the normal wards.

Normal ward. Phew.
ST Photo: Joanne Lee

Hateful though they are, I wore my cloth mask without complaint - even though I had breathing problems when the spasms hit - and secretly sanitised my hands every time a nurse touched me.

Alas, once they injected the catheter into my right hand to hit me with intravenous anti-spasmodic fluids, painkillers and an IV drip, I had to give up my admittedly ridiculous behaviour and give in to the welcome groggy haze that took over the acutely painful afflictions.

No more hand sanitisi...zzz.
ST Photo: Joanne Lee

About four hours later, when the spasms finally subsided and the pain was under control, I couldn't wait for the catheter to be removed so I could continue my hand sanitising.

And as I was waiting groggily at the pharmacy and check-out clerk area, I wiped down with sanitiser wipes when I got my medicines and Nets card back from the clerk. (This, by the way, is something I learnt from CNN's Richard Quest in his Business Traveller programme in which he suggests wiping your passport down with sanitiser wipes when you get them back from immigration officers.)

So there I was, wearing my pyjamas and a fleeced hoodie, semi-conscious after being pumped up with painkillers, and I had to wait 10 minutes before my ride came along. The nurse led me out to the outdoor waiting area (for family and friends) but I politely thanked her - and continued walking.

There was no way I was going to sit there with a bunch of people whose loved ones might be inside with H1N1. I also refused to wait at the taxi stand drive-through where there was a long queue of people as well as various people milling about the hospital front area.

So guess what this valetudinarian did?

I stood in the plot of plants between the A&E and the taxi stand, backed-up against the wall (so I don't trample the foliage), miserably hot in my fleeced hoodie under the sweltering sun (since I had no energy to pull it off).

I must have been quite a sight, but you know what? With the daily toll of H1N1 cases going up, I was quite happy waiting in the midst of plants rather than among my fellow men.

Call me Wacko Jojo, but I wasn't about to bring any virus back home where I live with my (age-ing) parents - especially my Mom who suffers from severe asthma - people who are more at risk from H1N1 infection than I am.

So my point is: Although Singapore hasn't suffered from any H1N1 deaths yet, don't be too callous about being exposed to the virus. You might have a robust physical constitution, but those around you might not.

Okay, Wacko Jojo, out.

Read Jessica Jaganathan's less paranoid point of view here: Afraid of H1N1 no longer.

Read also: Cases cross 1,000 mark.

reply

MY UNCLE died a week and a half ago.

He'd been comatose for eight months after suffering a stroke, and his heart finally gave out when he caught pneumonia. It was extremely sad for all of us, though not unexpected since he'd been unconscious for such a long time.

What I didn't expect was a flash going off during the service at the wakes and funeral. Someone was taking photographs of the congregation of mourners.

Whatever for, I wondered? And this wasn't the first time I had encountered someone documenting a death ritual.

Last year, I attended the funeral of the father of a good friend. I was absolutely shocked when I saw someone walk up to the coffin and take a close-up photo of the corpse's face. That same person continued to film the following rituals on her pocket camera. I was flabbergasted.

Quite apart from the disrespect to the family of the departed, who would want to document such an event? Who would want to re-watch it?

Someone suggested that perhaps they were recording the event for other family members who could not make it to the funeral. A legitimate argument, I suppose. But still, it seems to me to have been in very poor taste.

I remember when my brother was in medical school. As he began his surgical training, his classmates were obviously very excited as this was the stuff that would make them proper physicians.

Medical students, naturally, practise surgery on corpses. But being the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed medics, someone brought along a camera for their first session and took a couple of macabre photos of their rite of passage.

What they saw as a rite of passage wasn't what my mother saw as anything to be proud of. She told my brother to burn the photos and to appeal for the spirits' forgiveness for the disrespect shown to their bodies.

That was less than 20 years ago. How have we changed from a society where capturing the dead on film was taboo to finding it acceptable to shoot entire videos of funerals?

There she was, my mum, sitting in the front row of the wake while someone was snapping a picture. I'm not sure if she was aware of it, but I'm quite sure she wouldn't have approved. And as much of a 'digital native' as I supposedly am, I didn't approve either.

How then does one marry new technology with old traditions? What is the etiquette in this new world of pocket cameras, mobile phone cameras, online photo gallery servers and YouTube?

My uncle was a pretty easy-going, jolly man. He wouldn't particularly have minded someone taking photos of the service during the wake; he might not even have cared if anyone had taken a photo of his face made-up by the undertaker.

But even as a mere niece, and a trigger-happy camera toter at that, I thought the unofficial photographer was extremely rude and behaved in an inappropriate manner.

It's got nothing to do with tradition. My reaction has little to do with the semi-superstitious reaction my mother had to my brother and his classmates' callousness. It has to do with taste.

There is a reason why some people turn away from the coffin while it's being carried to the hearse. There is a reason why some people genuflect when they hear of the death of a dead one. There is a reason why others look down when a coffin is rolled into the cremator. It's called respect.

Snapping shots or videoing such sacred moments, either openly or surreptitiously, is just disrespectful - both to the deceased and to his or her family.

The funeral last Friday was an emotional one for us. Any death is a milestone in a family's history - and I think one of the saddest things is that my aunt's closest sister is abroad and was not able to be there for my aunt.

But none of us recorded a video of the funeral for our absent aunt. As affordable as technology is these days, and as trigger-happy as we are when it comes to capturing moments, none of us was about to disrespect my uncle.

Sometimes mental images stay with you far longer, and far more poignantly, than digital ones. I'll remember my uncle for his tenacity in the face of adversity and his jolliness - and I think that's all I need to take away from his funeral.

This is an excerpt of last Saturday's edition of The Digerati Diaries by Joanne Lee.

Share your thoughts on taking pictures at funerals here.

reply

A LONG time ago in a galaxy far, far away, I started out my journalism career with aspirations to be a war correspondent.

Yes, go ahead and laugh. Everyone did! Anyone who knew me at the time, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, absolutely killed themselves laughing at the idea. Joanne? A war correspondent? Does she realise there is no air-conditioning or running water involved? Does she realise she might, like, die?

I'll admit: My motives were not exactly the most noble. I'm not the biggest advocate for living a long life, and I figured if I was going to die young, what better way than to make a mark in journalism history and go out with a bang? Literally?

Alas, the closest I came to a hot spot was back when I was rookie reporter at this newspaper, and the Red Cross had invited me to accompany its aid efforts during a violent episode in Indonesia. I really wanted to go. I even took out extra insurance just in case. In the end though, the editors decided that sending a guy would be more prudent.

Since then, I've watched Daniel Pearl get beheaded by terrorists on the Internet (something I couldn't bring myself to do again when businessman Nick Berg suffered the same fate). Many journalists have been kidnapped, tortured and killed while reporting on conflicts in the Middle East.

Closer to home, my senior colleague Ching Cheong, ST's China correspondent, was accused of providing state secrets to Taiwan and subsequently imprisoned from April 2005 to February 2008 - more than 1,000 days in prison.

Ching Cheong post-incarceration.
ST Photo: Chew Seng Kim

And now, two journalists, working for former US Vice President Al Gore's California-based Current TV media agency, Euna Lee and Laura Ling, have been sentenced to 12 years for illegal entry by North Korea while working on a story on the Korea-China border.

Decapitation, torture, prison in communist countries - these were not situations I'd imagined when I naively wanted to be a war correspondent. I'd just wanted to be Christiane Amanpour and, at worst, step on a land mine and die a quick death.

Ah, the ignorance of youth.

As I got older - but not necessarily wiser - fate has changed the direction of my media career: Print, television, online; politics, business and even a little bit of the arts. And although I've been on a few overseas assignments, it's never been a prolonged stint.

But I still might, at some point, want to be a foreign correspondent - just maybe not one assigned to a hot spot. (Although the thought of being an embedded journalist with military cover may not be so dangerous. Hmm.)

My detractors will no doubt re-iterate their fixation with my supposedly long, manicured nails, mascara-ed eyes, penchant for Kindles and other off-point things about me to ridicule my naivete. War correspondent, Joanne? You've got to be joking.

But look at pictures of Euna Lee and Laura Ling, they're not exactly wearing fatigues either. So looks, it seems, can be deceiving.

Euna Lee and Laura Ling.
Photo: AP

And speaking of looks, my colleague Ching Cheong - who remains a beacon of inspiration for young reporters in The Straits Times newsroom - lost quite a few kilos when he served his time in jail. I can't even begin to imagine how Euna Lee and Laura Ling are going to handle 12 years in a labour camp. Physical toll aside, how are they going to weather the years mentally and emotionally?

I really hope the new US administration kicks off its international relations in Asia by saving these two ladies - a mean feat given North Korea's recent hawkishness in long-range missile activity. US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton certainly has her job cut out for her - especially when the two journalists work for Al Gore - Hillary's husband's former VP.

The heart of this would-be "war correspondent" goes out to Euna and Laura. Let's hope it's all just posturing in the global balance-of-power.

Read: Used by North Korea as pawns.

reply

A MONTH ago or so, we were all het up about the H1N1 virus.

Epidemic. Pandemic. Yellow. Orange. Masks. Hand sanitiser. Business continuity plans.

Being quite an avowed germophobe, I didn't have to rush to the pharmacies as I had quite a few packs of Dettol wet wipes and bottles of hand sanitiser at home already. (In fact, I have them in my bag as well as bottles of the stuff on every desk I work at - office and at home.)

When my parents went on holiday to the Gold Coast, I made sure they had a bottle of hand sanitiser at least. And when I went to pick them up at the airport, I applied the stuff almost every five minutes - mostly because I hate oily hands, but also because I have a rather weak constitution and tend to get sick easily.

So even when my company escalated our business continuity plan which was, frankly, a pain as it involved splitting our newsrooms into two locations, I was relieved at the action being taken. We didn't split up in the end as the Government downgraded the orange alert to yellow the day before the split was to happen.

As irritating as twice-daily temperature checks and moving to Genting Lane would have been, I thought our business continuity plan would have kicked in when Singapore's first H1N1 case was announced.

It's been more than a week since and the local tally is now five cases - yet we still haven't raised our alert.

Not that that's a bad thing.

In fact, two weeks ago when I had a common cold, my doctor and I chatted about the H1N1 flu - and he said, very common-sensically, that thousands of people die annually from the common flu, and hundreds of thousands during seasonal epidemics.

As he pointed out, most of the H1N1 deaths have been cases in which the victims are old or have underlying heart conditions. So he urged me to be realistic and not get too hysterical, even as Singapore's case load built up to five.

This morning, however, freaked me out a little.

First, my sister visited the doctor no thanks to her asthma acting up, only to be told that she needed a bout with the nebuliser machine - which happened to be in a room where a girl had been just been quarantined before being carted off to the Communicable Disease Centre due to a suspected case.

Her reaction: I'll pass.

Then I heard about a member of our ST.com team who's fallen ill - fever and all - after her fiance returned from the US.

Uh oh.

Maybe I'm over-reacting, but this is, after all, the end of the American school year and lots of Singaporeans will be returning for the summer holidays.

In fact, one of my best friends (returning from Boston via New York) Darren and I already have a date planned for Purvis Street beef noodles as soon as he gets back next week.

As my colleague Eugene Leow, who now lives in New York, says: Life goes on.

But that's not going to stop me from dousing Darren with hand sanitiser the minute I see him. And my sister, for that matter.

reply

WHILE interviewing F&B entrepreneur Michel Lu last week for our microsite Overcoming The Storm With Confidence, we were lamenting about how we were growing old and there were hardly any night spots that were suitable for hanging out anymore.

Most were too energetic, loud or filled with people at least a decade (or more) younger than us. So what're people in their 30s to do when planning a social activity (that is not golf or anything too strenuous)?

Well, last week, I did something I never thought I'd do while sharing a bottle with my best girlfriends: We went a-cooking. Not a dinner party at someone's place but we went to cooking class - together.

I know plenty of people pay good money to go to cooking class on their own, but it's just something that I never thought I'd do. I'm more the cook-a-batch-of-stew-to-eat-the-whole-week or break-open-a-can-of-tomato-soup kind of girl.

But when one of your friends gets pregnant and you can't meet up for your once-a-month happy hour, you start saying "yes" to unthinkable outings just so you're not labelled The Spoilsport.

I was skeptical. Very skeptical. I'm not the most domestic of my female species, as anyone who knows me would attest to. How is handling raw meat supposed to be a fun social activity?

Well, it turned out to be a ball.

I won't say where I went - lest you think I got paid to write this review - but it was somewhere in the Portsdown Road area: Private, intimate and perfect for a night of mayhem in the kitchen.

Six of us broke up into two "teams" and were taught the professional way of chopping veggies for Minestrone soup, prepping duck to be pan-fried and witnessing exactly how much cream and cheese goes into a Tiramisu (too much) - all guided by a chef who earned his spurs at none other than The Savoy in London.

We even ended up teaching the English chef how to prepare halal portions for our Muslim friend - and learnt a thing or two about it ourselves.

It struck me that the woman who started this business has hit upon a really clever business proposition to cater to a niche among Singaporeans who don't want to jostle with crowds in restaurants or bars to have a good time with their friends.

And she's not the only one. My sister, it so happens, did a similar cooking class with her married friends just a few days later, run by a friend who appears to be making a business out of cooking classes too.

Who knew something as hearth-side as cooking could be an enjoyable social activity?

reply

First, a warning: Spoilers ahead. If you haven't watched it yet and intend to, stop right here!

That's essentially what I did when I heard a new Star Trek movie was coming out. I covered my ears and went la-la-la whenever someone started talking about it. I did watch the trailer - and therefore got the wrong impression that the movie was a third generation story.

I'd thought this was the grandson of Captain T. Kirk and the son/grandson of Spock finding themselves working together on a new USS Enterprise. (I don't know, I'm not a Trekkie!)

But I've enough Trekkie friends (Captain Jean Luc-Picard was on our kitchen television every day during my university years) to realise during the opening moments of the show: Hang on, this is the prequel to Star Trek altogether!

After that, everything made more sense and was absolutely first-rate, but I couldn't help feel director JJ Abrams took a few liberties that bordered on sacrilege - and not Trekkie sacrilege either.

Kirk being abandoned on a snowy planet, trying to escape rampant monsters and saved by his discovery of a cave? Isn't that kind of like when Luke Skywalker's ton-ton died on Planet Hoth? (Ed's note: A reader pointed out that it's taun-taun, not ton-ton!)

Kirk fighting Romulans and then hanging off the side of the edge of a small ledge by one arm. Er, Luke Skywalker again.

Kirk fighting the Romulan boss on a dark, multi-platform arena inside the enemy ship? So Luke Skywalker vs Darth Vader.

(I couldn't help it. I grew up with an elder brother who was a Star Wars Fan.)

Then, I was floored.

At the end of movie, the young Spock (played by Zachary Quinto) meets his aged self (played by Leonard Nimoy)! It was a complete dissing of all conventional space-time continuum wisdom! Something I'm sure J K Rowling and Hermione Granger will have a lot to say about, by the way.

It just wasn't right. And even Saturday Night Live had a go at it.

Nevertheless, it was a great movie and I hope JJ Abrams does a sequel to this prequel - as is being rumoured in Hollywood now. Wonder how he'll deal with the two-Spock scenario though; and whose younger or older selves will show up and join the Enterprise party.

And now for The Onion's take on it. Enjoy!

 
Trekkies Bash New Star Trek Film As 'Fun, Watchable'

reply

IT WAS the week after I re-joined The Straits Times that Mas Selamat Kastari escaped from the Whitley Detention Centre. Thinking about all that's happened in my time in this newsroom since then, it really struck me that a lot of time has passed since February 27th, 2008.

During that time, a lot of our email inboxes were inundated with jokes about our "much-vaunted" internal security capabilities, conspiracy theories about how Singapore might have let him go in exchange for other information and other tongue-in-cheek or caustic commentary.

Although I admit to giggling at some of the Photoshopped material, the conspiracy theories just didn't resonate with me. Singapore? With our pride in security and our insistence on detention-without-trial (even before the US changed its tune post-911)? Willing to allow a high-level escape in exchange for information? Or even making up a story of a major bungle to cover up the fact that he got accidentally killed during torture or some other sinister doings?

I just didn't think so. Call me naive - many have - but I just couldn't swallow those theories.

And yet, the longer time drew on, the more I started to wonder: When will those wanted posters be taken down from the HDB void deck announcement boards? When they eventually do, will the government's detractors make a big deal about it? How badly has Singapore's reputation of safety been hit by this fiasco?

As a Singaporean, I felt quite disgraced. All my previous justifications to my expat and overseas friends about why I didn't want to work abroad, in part because of the safety and peacefulness of life in Singapore, fell flat.

So when I heard today that Mas Selamat had been apprehended, I actually felt strangely triumphant. But as our discussion boards started registering jeers like: "Why is Wong Kan Seng so happy? It's not as if it was him who caught Mas Selamat", I started to get annoyed.

The Malaysian authorities caught him in Johor on a tip-off from our security forces. He escaped, swam across the Causeway and caused international embarassment to our country, but we got him back - even if it took a while.

And why weren't we told earlier? Probably because the security forces on both sides of the Causeway were extracting as much information out of the Jemaah Islamiah leader as possible.

Sounds to me like that's a coup!

Those who jeer at anything the government does will continue to do so whether Mas Selamat was re-captured or not. They will harp on the fact that we "allowed" him to escape in the first place, and howl for heads to roll no matter what.

Meanwhile, I am proud that Singapore authorities managed to graciously tolerate the brickbats from their detractors while oh-so-secretly working behind-the-scenes to salvage the situation - and perhaps even find out more about JI's network in the process.

I'm going to be happy when I see those wanted posters taken down now; and I'm going to be able to hold my head up high again when my expat and overseas friends praise Singapore for being one of the safest places in the world.

To those who worked to regain Singapore's reputation: You aren't going to be appreciated by all, but here's a big thank you from me.

reply

SO call us Johnny-come-lately (or, in this case, Jenny-come-lately), but The Straits Times has decided to experiment with Twitter.

After the Aware EOGM saga last Saturday, when two ST reporters blogged live onsite at Suntec City during the marathon seven-hour meeting, the power of micro-blogging really hit home.

Twitter basically allows you to send short updates (under 140 characters not unlike SMS text messages) to the public (if you don't lock your account) or just to your friends (if you do).

Obama used it to great effect in the initial phases of his presidential election campaign to reach out to the usually apathetic youth voters.

Then during the Mumbai terror attacks at the end of last year, it gained a lot more media attention as traditional broadcasters started turning to what people were "twittering" from the ground on what they heard was going on.

Then, last Saturday, the allure of Twitter went BOOM in Singapore as attendees of the Aware EOGM "tweeted" almost verbatim blow-by-blow accounts on what was being said (or rather, shouted).

For example, that evening, about six of us were having dinner at Vivocity - a prelude to the 8:30pm screening of Wolverine. While shovelling down our food with one hand, practically all of us were on various Twitter applications on our phones on our other hands, reading what was going on.

Apart from #awaresg, a dedicated channel for tweeters to post their tweets to, we also had two friends who were busily twittering from the meeting as well. It got to a point where the latest tweet on all our phones read "New guard has five minutes to step down" and had us all with ants in our pants. (Probably as edgy as those on location themselves.)

Hurry up! We want to know the outcome! Wolverine is starting in 15 minutes!

It took another half hour before the "new guard" resigned, but thankfully, we were still watching advertisements and movie trailers at the time, so our short outburst reacting to the outcome didn't elicit any shushing from other movie watchers.

After that experience, we've decided to go ahead and experiment if twittering will get news out to our readers more immediately and efficiently. For now, we're starting with publishing the links to our blogs and top stories, and we hope you enjoy the ride.

Oh, and we'll try not to spam your account, don't worry!

Add "stcom" to your Twitter account to get the updates. (Hint: Use the "Find People" or "Search" functions on your Twitter readers to locate us. See you there!)

reply

I'VE been accused on this platform, the ST Blogs, for writing from my ivory tower and not understanding what the man-in-the-street goes through.

Honestly? I was rather baffled when that particular phrase was repeatedly commented on my first few blog entries (albeit from just one particular person). What had I written that prompted readers to think that? Or was it just someone who didn't like me personally?

But yesterday, I realised I might just possibly have been living high up in an ivory tower all my life after all.

That was after I'd watched Taken.

(WARNING: Possible spoilers ahead.)

Currently being played in the cinemas, it's about a retired CIA agent who single-handedly busts an international sex slave ring when his 17-year-old daughter is kidnapped upon her arrival in Paris.

(The loss of a family member was particularly impactful because it starred Liam Neeson who, so sadly, has just lost his real-life wife Natasha Richardson to a ski-induced head injury.)

Now, we all know about the international sex trade - from the crude bartering of children on the streets in Thailand to the more sophisticated pedophile businesses run out of orphanages further afield.

But snatching young tourists, getting them hooked on drugs and so dependent on pimps that they are forced to service men - willingly or otherwise - sometimes to the point of death?

And that's just the sell-side. On the buy-side, are there really people who sit around in suits in a darkened room, drinking champagne while bidding for virgins auction-style during a high-society ball?

Okay, maybe it's all just Hollywood's overactive imagination. It was co-written and produced by Luc Besson after all. Still, as the saying goes, there's no smoke without fire, right?

I was reeling when I came out of the cinema and thoroughly sickened by the callousness and cruelty people are capable of.

Naive? Probably. Resident of an ivory tower? Perhaps.

But at least I know enough of the world never to share a cab with a stranger. And I really hope my fellow Singaporean girls know at least that much too.

reply

I READ my first book this weekend without touching a single page - a single paper page, that is. I got a Kindle!

Well, a Kindle 2 to be precise: Amazon’s e-reader device that lets you buy books direct from the online shop and download it in a manner of seconds.

Technically speaking, Kindles are only available - and only work properly - in the US. Through a platform proprietary to Amazon called Whispernet, users can download content without a computer if they have WiFi access. Thing is, Whispernet is only available in the US at the moment. 

To a bookworm like me, a long-time customer of Amazon by the way, it’s been cruel and unusual punishment for Amazon to not share its magic with the world.

But like any bit of technology that is highly desirable, the IT-savvy have managed to get around the problem - and I’m extremely lucky to have tech-savvy friends. Then again, it's got nothing to do with hacking, cracking or jail-breaking the way Apple fans did with the iPhone before it arrived on our sunny shores.

Here's a hint: You just get a friend in the US to buy the Kindle 2 for you, then download the digital books from Amazon to your computer and upload them to your device the old-fashioned cable-and-wires way.

Obviously, it’s not the same as reading a physical book. Curling my hand around the single page device needed getting used to as it kept slipping in my favourite foetal reading position. Then there was the initial confusion of hitting “next page” and “previous page”, and figuring out how to bookmark my place. Having long nails didn’t help with the navigation button either.

Happily, I managed to sort the teething problems out after a couple of hours into my first virtual book - a book I might not have bought because it was a first-time writer.

And that's the beauty of these e-readers. Because digital books tend to be cheaper than physical books of the tree variety, it's less expensive to try out new authors - especially now that secondhand bookstores don't seem to buy anymore.

Also, I can even surreptitiously read some trashy bestseller in public without being discovered since no one can see the cover!

And best of all, when I’m off on holiday next week, I don’t have to weigh myself down with holiday reading. All I need is my trusty Kindle which now hosts 10 books.

Now, all I have to do is exercise discipline when it comes to that “click to buy” button!

reply