Glenda Blog

(… this follows from the blog-entry before “Dumping”
and it was first published in 8days August 2010)

From a metaphorical dump to a physical dump!

I just returned to Shanghai from an obscure village in Shanxi Province to cover a story on how organic waste is being turned into usable fuel. You can just imagine the crappy jokes (pun intended) that were coming from friends when they heard what I was getting myself into.

Anyway, the remote village is called Shangwa and the nearest town is almost 3 hours away by car. With a population of less than 2000 made up of about 88 farming families, life is quite hard with monthly household incomes averaging less than 10 USD. And not so long ago, they used to live in cave dwellings – literally holes they carved out for themselves with no electricity and poor sanitation. At least that was the case until a recent initiative by Mercy Relief (MR), an independent non-governmental humanitarian charity.

By building houses with bio-gas digestor systems, MR has helped the villagers to harvest energy through fermentation of human and animal excreta, which is in turn used to power up bio-gas cookers and lamps. As a result, the villagers are not dependent on coal and do not need to spend their limited earnings on electricity from the power grid. And with excess waste being recycled as crop fertilizer, more savings are generated for the simple folk in this tiny community.

“EEEEW! What a sh*tty assignment!” teased a bemused friend, “did you make your personal donation to the bio-gas digestor systems while you were there?” Well, considering how hospitable the kind village folk were, that was the least that my crew and I could do. And just in case you’re wondering, collection tanks are fitted outside each home and very well covered. So no, we didn’t create a big stink in Shangwa.

However, that wasn’t the case back at The Apartment in Shanghai.

In case you missed my last article, I had been long overdue for a dumping date – a ritual I have with my really good friend (whom I refer to as SSE in my CNA blog). Every other day, we meet up for a dumping date, essentially to tell each other about our most recent dramas at home and at the workplace. And with SSE globetrotting for 8 straight weeks, I had been suffering a severe case of metaphorical constipation!

Her eventual return to Shanghai saw us having our overdue dumping date at a buzzy new place near my home, aptly called The Apartment (you will see why shortly). It’s a loft-style bar and restaurant, serving delicious white pizza (no cheese) – a newcomer on the hip Yongfu Lu strip which has been drawing a certain trendy crowd in the evenings since Spring.

Back to my much anticipated dump – before SSE was even served her Brooklyn Basil Martini, I started downloading 8 weeks worth of data at approximately 180 kilometres per hour, speeding through what has been happening in my life while she was traipsing across continents.

Most significantly, I had been grappling with buying an apartment.

As property prices in Singapore continue to soar, my dear mother is increasingly worried that I will not be able to afford my own pad. She had been frantically house hunting on my behalf, seeing almost 50 homes which – just weren’t “my type”. She has a cosmic theory that the house chooses the owner and not the other way around. I had even made a bid on a recent trip back to Singapore. But apparently the property didn’t choose me. My mother has since given up looking on my behalf. So my hunting continues remotely while I’m in Shanghai, where I’m still diligently keeping an eye for the property that will make me the chosen one.

Back at The Apartment on Yongfu Lu, as I paused to catch my breath and to sip on intoxicatingly fermented grape juice from South Africa, SSE shared amusing anecdotes from her romantically fabulous time in Europe and Brazil. Not only did she return with a Mediterranean tan, she also came back with an exciting plan to build a business in multiple cities spanning three continents – including a potential spot strategically located on same Yongfu Lu we were at! In case you missed it before, SSE stands for Sexy Savvy Entrepreneur.

But before I could say “guess what I did…” SSE flew off again and this time for a Sarajevo-turnaround to tie up some loose ends – leaving me as a spare end for a few days, to embark on a personal pet project to produce a customized diary as a belated birthday gift to a very special friend.

http://blogs.channelnewsasia.com/glenda-chong/

This was first published in 8-days. My “constipation” occured in August.

It’s been 8 weeks.
I haven’t had a dump in 8 weeks!

No, no, I’m not referring to the medical condition otherwise known as costiveness, dyschezia or constipation.

But it sure feels that way! This strain is brought on because my really good girlfriend has been away on an 8-week trip, continent-hopping from London to Sao Paolo and Berlin, all in the name of market research.

So what does my friend’s absence have to do with my state of obstruction, you may ask. Well (blood pressure mounting as I explain), I AM OVERDUE FOR OUR DUMPING DATE!!

WHAT: A dumping date is a ritual where we meet to tell each other about our most recent dramas, big and small, relating to work, friends, family or anything of interest to us. It usually starts with, “You won’t believe what I did/ had to deal with/ who I met/ found out today!” During my verbal diarrhea, I am able to spew at the speed of approximately 100 metres per hour, occasionally expelling strong words which are not fit for broadcast on Channel News Asia.

WHY: The primary purpose of a dumping date is to turn events into experiences. Here in Shanghai, everything happens quickly. With our ferocious appetite for life, we tend to consume Shanghai in large doses and much too quickly. Hence we need to detox via mental and emotional waste elimination, a critical process which results in instant self-adjustment, temporary sanity and hopefully, a better complexion.

WHEN: A dumping date occurs after dark every other day over dinner or drinks. Depending on distress levels or schedule clashes, a dumping date may take place in cyberspace via online chat, when we manage to snatch each other momentarily during the course of our busy work days.

WHERE: Our favourite dumping ground is Constellation – I am referring to the first Constellation, not the fancier second or third ones but the original whisky bar which is small and intimate. Here, we’d chat over French martinis and once we start, not even a hottie walking into the tiny room would distract or disrupt our dumping date.

HOW: Depending on whose need is more urgent, we take turns at our dumping dates. While one of us is going, the other listens intently with a sense of duty. Oftentimes we end up cracking up because the “dumper” is also required to entertain. While I try to amuse my friend with my live-broadcast journalistic style, she tends to keep my jaws wide open with her most amazing stories that are not kosher to repeat on this family-friendly magazine.

So back to my current state of obstruction, my condition is made worse because my friend has gone trotting off to the other side of the globe, where our time zones clash. So since we can’t even catch each other live online, we briefly resorted to leaving offline messages:

“You won’t believe what I did today”
8 hours later…

“What?”

Another 8 hours later…

“Guess”

Yet another 8 hours later…

“Fell down again?”

We got the point that it started to feel more like indigestion so we quickly gave up. But I still occasionally receive messages that read like headline news, worthy albeit cryptic.

But 8 weeks! That’s 2 whole months without a proper dump!! I have never been apart from this friend for such a long time since we started dump dating.

This Singaporean girlfriend of mine has been living in China for over 15 years. She is the savvy entrepreneur I refer to in my CNA blog as SSE; the same one who managed to make me change my kitchen-sink-of-a-workbag for a more suitable handbag before I meet her in the evenings; the same girlfriend who helped me settle into Shanghai.

My tendency is to be a hermit and vegetate at home so in the early days, she’s had to literally drag my reluctant body out to events or dinners. In fact, it was her who said this to me once, “If I’m awake, I can go out.” And in my first year in Shanghai, I don’t believe I slept earlier than midnight on most nights. We were always out and about. She made sure that I was actively meeting people, getting to know who’s who, mingling with the local glitterati and grabbing conversations with everyday folk like taxi-drivers, cleaning ladies and street vendors. It was the fastest way for me to network, understand the city, read the vibes and consume Shanghai without indigestion. I credit her for my fast-tracked assimilation into Shanghai. And as she candidly told me when I first arrived, it was the fastest way for me to stop being dependent on her.

Ironically, we have developed a mutual dependency over the past 2 years.

We have friends and some friends are “occasion friends”. Those are friends who fit into specific occasions, like parties, dinners, movies, shopping, hanging out… etc. Then we have the “all weather friends”. These are friends you need for everything and all the time. This SSE is one of these. She has become my all weather friend.

Now that she’s away for 8 weeks, I am in a dire state of dyschezia, desperately in need of verbal diarrhea.

Can’t wait for her to come back to Shanghai for our overdue dumping date – will be sure to write all about the major stink!

I wrote this in May for 8-days and decided to share with everyone. Enjoy.

Spring in Shanghai is an eagerly anticipated season. After suffering months of damp winter chills, the city folk re-emerge enthusiastically at outdoor venues. Restaurants and bars with a patio, a garden or a roof deck become the most popular venues, filled with laughter of people, most of them with some degree of spring fever.

So when I recently celebrated my birthday, it seemed appropriate to pick the Fat Olive – an establishment with a spacious outdoor lounge styled after white-washed stone houses on sunny Greek islands. A sparkling oasis perched over the busy Huaihai Road near Xintiandi, it was the perfect setting for my small gathering, themed after my favourite Sunflower.

It was a crisp Saturday afternoon when close friends started trickling in bearing big birthday bouquets of sunny yellow blooms, which brought an endless smile to my face. But one particular gift of Sunflower caught me by surprise.

It was the Sunflower Tickler.

With the top shaped like the flower (batteries included), its use is up to one’s imagination. Some might think that a gift of wine would have been more appropriate from the Laowai(foreigner) owner of the venue. But those of us in the know will be aware that his Shanghai girlfriend actually runs a flourishing small business, retailing these products online. And it was this young, progressive and entrepreneurial woman who struck me as a true reflection of the spirit of Shanghai.

To see what I mean by the spirit of Shanghai, one just has to look back to history:

Back in 1842 after the British established a concession by forced treaty, the French, Americans and Japanese quickly followed suit by setting up territories in Shanghai. By the 1930s the city became Asia’s most important trading port with foreign banking firms setting up shop along the famed Bund to reap the rewards. Meanwhile even though the political arrangement did not allow many locals to thrive from mainstream trading, some did make the most of the situation. Ask any foreigner about the era and sexy images are conjured. It was during this period that Shanghai turned the trading port into one of the most infamous exotic port of call – with decadent opium dens and notorious whorehouses making a good business for those who refused to submit passively to any unfair treaty.

Post-Cultural Revolution, after Deng Xiaoping re-opened China’s doors to the international community in the 1970s for commercial revival, Shanghai took the fast lane on the economic highway. There’s even a saying here, “throw a stone in Beijing and you hit a politician; throw a stone in Shanghai and you hit a businessman.” Hence it is commonly known among the Chinese that Shanghai is China’s name card to the world. The entrepreneurial spirit here is intoxicating and its energy is captivating.

In spite of its conservative Confucian culture, people here do not shy away from businesses of the sexy kind. There are the numerous “adult use” shops dotting the streets in the former French concession district. A walk down Shaanxi Road and you will see small business like any other on that road selling a wide variety of “adult products.” No shady business here; no dim lights; no boarding the window display. For those of who you don’t read Chinese, look out for signs that say: Cheng-Ren Yong-Pin which literally means “Adult Use!”

Progressive, forward and open, this Chinese city is also home to the country’s only sex museum. The Chinese Sexual Culture Museum traces about 6,000 years of sexual behaviour in China. Home to about 4,000 items of bronze, ceramics and even precious jade, the phallic forms are on display for all to see. Opened by a retired Shanghai University Professor, the museum is located in Jiangsu, Tongli. I visited the travelling museum at the bund 2 years ago, at the underground tunnel and it was a real eye-opener for a Singaporean.

To top this, Shanghai also has an annual “Sexpo”, an exposition showcasing the latest development and designs in the industries –such as the Sunflower Tickler!

So what has this to do with Tupperware?

Last year while doing my research for a Channel NewsAsia story, I chanced upon an online shop for Cheng-Ren Yong-Pin which also caters to parties in the format of Tupperware parties –a creative concept that even I couldn’t resist.

So as a birthday gift to a gal pal of mine, we organized a “Tupperware party” for the occasion. Held at an elegant heritage villa, dinner was high-end sushi while girly chit chat filled our private room overlooking a beautifully-landscape garden. Then promptly at 9pm, the “Tupperware Lady” strolled in like an air-stewardess with her luggage filled with “Tupperware”, and did a “show and tell” with great finesse.

And our party of four women and one token-guy bought up almost everything she had in her bag.

Shanghai is sexy!

I’ve been contributing articles to 8-days magazine and thought I’d upload them on my blog. This was written in April 2010. I hope you enjoy the read

I always follow CNA online to keep up with news from Singapore. Lately I find myself chuckling over the latest exploits of a certain media strumpet and her recent drama on the airwaves. It made me reflect on my own less-sensational exploits in Shanghai since I had moved here two years ago for a more challenging position as an overseas correspondent.

So here I was, solo in one of the most cosmopolitan cities in the world (which also happens to be located in a country pegged as a developing nation), thinking how well I have overcome the initial culture shock and adjusted quite nicely in Shanghai..

I’ve grown accustomed to the idiosyncrasies of the locals – no longer cringing when I hear the distinctive guttural sounds of the throat-clearing. Instead I’ve learnt to respond by dodging or side-stepping, so as to avoid being the accidental target of a misguided spit. Or when someone leans on me in at the supermarket queue or in the confined space of an elevator, it is no more a big issue for me. “There is no such thing as personal space,” I remind myself. And when I hear shouting near me, I no longer cock my head 180 degrees to look for a commotion or signs of potential danger – because really, the traditional Chinese people just enjoy chatting very loudly.

Even better, in this city where taxi-queues are not the norm, I’ve even learnt how to literally “grab a cab” – a highly necessary skill especially on rainy days. Even my mild-mannered friend JH can attest to an occasion when he was rushing me to the hospital for my injured coccyx, where he had gallantly grabbed a well-suited man by the coat, and yanked him out of a taxi which had stopped for us after an hour’s wait. For those of you who are not familiar with the local culture, the well-suited taxi-hijacker had backed-off from JH, not from fear of being beaten up. Instead, he had given up the taxi because he ceded to the fact that we were there first, and he showed compassion for the visibly distressed damsel.

Another of my “Shanghai exploits” is that I’ve learnt how to let someone else wash my hair on a regular basis. You see, some Shanghainese women almost never wash their own hair. They go to the hairdressers to get it professionally done because they can get a relaxing head massage while looking salon-styled a couple of times a week – a commonplace luxury that costs S$10-20

Hence I think I’ve totally gotten into the local Shanghai groove, right? Or so I thought until I realized what it really means “to be Shanghaied”.

It happened after my Singaporean friend, Jacky went for her first Shanghai hair cut, which included the classic wash and blow, as well as colouring. Before I could even compliment her on her great new look, she burst into a venting fit. “Do you know how much I PAID for this (pointing to her gorgeous new hair style)? Almost S$400!! Do you know what they said to me when I protested at the amount? They said that I said yes to the shampoo girl, to add some silly conditioner and colour retainer etc I don’t even speak that much Putonghua! It must have been the &*@# massage. And it’s some small shop NOT David Gan, ok?!” The usually soft-spoken Jacky was almost screaming in my ear, “My mother was right, you can get Shanghaied in Shanghai!”

I realized at that point – even though I take much pride in my new-found local knowledge and adapted blissfully to the lifestyle here, I’m still just an unsuspecting newcomer who is an easy prey of “being Shanghaied”. (It once cost me almost S$200 just for a simple wash, cut and blow). Whenever I had gone for my hair-wash, I would get so relaxed and drowsy with the head massage that I somehow agree unwittingly to pay for all the unnecessary frills, which I ended up paying a extra for.

So this is what Jacky’s mum meant when she warned us about “being Shanghaied” – to be induced or compelled to something by fraud.

And as I continue to write to you about my exciting Shanghai exploits in the next issues, I must remind myself to be careful of being an unwitting victim of “being Shanghaied” in this exciting city of urban dreams and promises.

A recent incident brought me to Hua-Shan Hospital yet again, marking almost one year since I last stepped foot in this medical facility in the former French Concession. The difference this time is that I was the patient in need of an X-Ray. Turns out that my injury was not serious but what shocked me was the fee – which brings me to the subject of today’s blog.

Accompanied by my friend (let’s call him JH), we headed straight for the same Wai Bing Section, where I had been a year ago. (Wai-Bing means Foreign Guest)

The receptionist asked me to fill up a registration form and politely told me the administration fee would cost CNY 500 (that converts to SGD 104).

“Wow, so expensive?” I exclaimed.

“That’s normal.” she replied with a pleasant poker face.

“Hey you got insurance or not?” JH said in a deliberate Singaporean accent to amuse me.

But insurance is not the point. Since I was in pain and wanted to allay my fears of broken bones, I dutifully filled up the forms and waited. Then a nurse came and took my blood-pressure and advised that the requested X-Ray would cost me CNY 700.

At this point, JH who has a local partner suggested that we switch to the Local Section instead. Trusting his 7 years experience in Shanghai, I agreed and we took a walk to another block, with me taking slow, painful steps over an otherwise reasonable distance.

When we eventually found the “local registration booth”, the duty nurse spoke in Mandarin, “What’s your problem? Fill up your age and mobile contact, pay at the next window, get your card and a waiting number and the doctor will see you. Plus you pay CNY 15.50”

This was my first shock. I would have had to pay 30 times more at the Wai-Bing Section.

After a half hour wait, a doctor gave me an X-Ray “prescription” and we took another slow and painful walk to yet another block (The Wai-Bing nurse had offered to have me escorted by wheel-chair)

At the X-Ray department, the attendant refused to let me proceed because I hadn’t paid yet. It would have been another painful walk if not for JH. Being my saint for the day, he ran off as directed to pay while I waited. When he returned with a payment receipt, I got my number and we waited in line.

And then my second shock. Guess who is waiting next in line?

After me was a Russian woman, who was sent over by the Wai-Bing nurse, to the same X-Ray department – even though she was paying Wai-Bing rates. The only difference is she cannot speak Mandarin.

I find out later that the doctors at the Wai Bing Section are the same doctors at the Local Section. So when a foreigner arrives at the Wai-Bing Section, the nurse will page an English-speaking doctor who will then traverse across to the Wai-Bing block.

So this is how the fees compare:

FOREIGN

Administration CNY 500
X-ray CNY 700
Consultation CNY 500*
Medication CNY 1000*
TOTAL CNY 2700
(SGD 562.50)
* a rough guess

LOCAL
Administration CNY 15.50
X-ray CNY 130
Consultation FREE
Medication CNY 350
TOTAL CNY 495.50
(SGD 103.20)

Foreigner pays CNY 2700 (SGD 562.50) while locals pay CNY 495.50 (SGD 103.20)

So is the English service really worth a 5-time premium?

Or is this why sometimes the locals say we are gullible and if we can be “eaten” then they should “eat” us?

I’m still pondering over the commercials and the morality of this subject while I nurse my very bad bruise with the aid of strong painkillers. (many thanks to concerned friends and well wishers).

And as I am reminiscing over last year’s first visit to this hospital, I cannot help but wonder if this Sequel will end up being the mere second installment of a Trilogy!

Jacky, be warned!

I’d been chasing eclipse stories for the past 3 days leading up to the event only to be greeted with bad news.

In ancient China, solar eclipses were omens.

Urban legend has it as “天狗吃太阳”. A dog living in the sky was eating the sun but because the dog is afraid of loud noises, villagers would beat pots and pans to scare the dog into spitting the sun back out.

And ancient thinkers saw a unity between man and nature and what happens to nature will affect man – that the solar eclipse is “yin” attacking “yang”. So, omens such as:

July 8, 1848 A total Solar Eclipse but the Opium War occurred between 1840 and 1842
Feb 5, 1943 A total Solar Eclipse but World War 2 occurred between 1937 and 1945
March 9, 1997 A total Solar Eclipse but the Yangtze Valley flooded in 1998

Whether you believe in this or not, if you were unaware that a total solar eclipse was happening, you’d be scared. Who knows what you would have done?

JULY 22 2009

On Wednesday morning, my crew and I ventured to the 33rd floor of Hyatt on the Bund Vue Bar to do our report. We arrived at 830am only to be greeted by dark clouds. The sun played hide and seek for a full 10 minutes before disappearing behind rain clouds.

Here’s a rundown of my timing:

830am = looking to heavens to be greeted by a playful sun (peek-a-boo)
845am = interview guests to get their reactions
9am = prepare for phoners with Prime Time Morning with Suzanne and Steven but the signal was bad so I kept getting cut-off.
915am = day was slowly turning to night although it felt more like shadows of dark clouds
915am = rain rain rain came pouring down
930am = rushed to get my stand upper done and to enjoy 6 minutes of darkness

At precisely 936am, it felt as if someone turned off the lights and darkness enveloped the city. It looked and felt like 936pm. The temperature dropped significantly and for once in summer, it was bearable with a low of 26 and a high of 31. Some weather reprieve. But the rain made my work all the more challenging. In trying to seize whatever darkness there was within the 6 minutes, it was a mad rush to record my ptc, give my cameraman enough time to film the night scene before it quickly started getting bright.

However despite the mad rush – it was a magical moment for me.

P/S To see my ptc, click on the following link.
glendaptc21jul

“I’m a Barbie girl in a Barbie world

Life in plastic, it’s fantastic!

You can brush my hair, undress me everywhere

Imagination, life is your creation”

.. and so goes the song from Aqua…

Well, I just covered the story on the Shanghai opening of the world’s first Barbie Department Store in China. And I have to admit that I was too ”Barbied-out” by the time I left the store to file my report.

It was surreal.

Sure I like the colour pink. It’s my trademark colour when I golf.  But pink everywhere in a store.. can be jarring to the senses actually!

Located at the main shopping strip of Huai Hai Road the concept store boasts 6 floors of merchandise and services. Richard Dickson, Senior Vice President of Barbie Brands, did not want to tell me how much Mattel spent on the store other than it is a multimillion dollar project (and he was referring to USD).

When I first heard about the Barbie Store opening in Shanghai last year, I was unsure how to react.

Growing up, I had my “Playmobile” and ”Hello Kitty” stationary. But never a Barbie doll. However, I do have a vivid memory of giving my cousin’s Barbie a crew cut, which prompted such a violent reaction from her!

“Tell me when the Barbie store opens, I will burn a Barbie doll outside its door,” said my sexy-savvy entrepreneur girlfriend. Well thank goodness she left for her secondary school reunion back in Singapore, the same day the store opened. Otherwise, her little stunt to protest Mattel’s Barbie marketing messages would have made the news worldwide.

A legislator in West Virginia, Jeff Eldridge (D) has even tried to ban the sale of Barbie dolls. It reads: “It shall be unlawful in the state to sell “Barbie” dolls and other similar dolls that promote or influence girls to place an undue importance on physical beauty to the detriment of their intellectual and emotional development.”

Well, I’m unsure how successful he will be in getting the bill passed.

So why does Barbie evoke such strong emotions in women and men?

Does the doll actually make young girls think that physical beauty is the one over-riding and most important factor in life? Recalling my own days as a girl, I was not attracted to the advertising or persuaded by the promotions. Maybe Barbie’s fashion sense did not appeal to me. Maybe I didn’t watch enough TV and missed the ads on air.

But the Barbie concept store takes on a different approach.

Not only can you brush her hair and dress her many ways, you can also start looking like Barbie, with designs from the famous stylist of Sex in the City, Patricia Fields. And eat what Barbie eats?? A café designed by Australian celebrity chef, David Laris. Need some R&R?  Get pampered at the Barbie Spa. And if you find your dream Ken, you can wed in a US$15,000 Vera Wang wedding dress, sold exclusively at the Barbie Store in Shanghai.

This is, after all, Barbie World!

I think this is clever marketing, especially since Mattel saw their sales figures last quarter fall by 46% and worldwide sale of Barbie fell 21%. But banking on China consumers for Barbie’s comeback? Only time will tell how successful this gamble will be.

While I must admit that the Barbitini cocktail, a martini concoction created by David was rather delicious, I still have no affinity for the doll. And I won’t be buying the doll for my nieces or friend’s kids.

Give me Hello Kitty anytime. 

We were all trying to get a soundbite from Premier Wen Jia Bao.  We were at ground zero of the earthquake, Yingxiu in Wenchuan County.  Premier Wen Jia Bao was at Yingxiu together with UN Chief Ban Ki-moon. 

If you look hard enough you will be able to spot Channel NewsAsia’s mike. 

UN Chief Ban Ki Moon getting a first hand look at the damange caused by the May 12 earthquake.  

I was running to catch our “ride” back to Chengdu, the capital of Sichuan. 

And I have to thank a reporter friend who took the pictures for me.  It is quite rare to have pictures of “behind the scenes” especially when you are working under such situation. 

A recent evening out with friends started at an Irish pub and ended at a Chinese hospital. One minute we were laughing and clinking our glasses; the next, we were rushing to the hospital in the old French Concession…

I’ve only been in Shanghai 8 months and two major events have happened. And I’ve come to realize how important it is to have close friends so far away from home – friends who’d drop everything they are doing to be with you in times of need; friends who share in your joy and will not shun you because of your sorrows. 

You’ve already met my savvy and sexy entrepreneur girlfriend who has lived in China for 13 years. And there’s another girlfriend who’s a banker. Let’s just call her Looloo for short. 

It was Looloo who introduced me to Shanghai’s hospital. Looloo was telling a funny Hokkien (Fujian) joke when she hit her head against her wine glass (deleted remarks), and so the drama unfolded. The wine glass didn’t break but her skin did. Deep red blood was oozing out of a cut above her eye.Savvy-sexy entrepreneur (SSE) was out elsewhere (in a very pretty black dress and faux fur coat) when I made the call to her just past midnight, that we had to rush Looloo to hospital.  In less than 10 minutes, SSE was in a taxi picking us up and we were headed to the nearest hospital. 

And this is what struck me about the hospital.  There are two separate out-patient emergency sections. One for the local Chinese and the other for the foreigners (aka Wai-Bin)This is where you see the stark difference. 

The foreigner’s section was brightly lit, immaculate, modern and everything you’d expect a private hospital to offer, with lift attendants and attentive staff. The section for the local Chinese was somewhat different.  Everything seemed several shades paler, in every sense of the word.

Back in the foreigner’s section, an eye-specialist was woken from her sleep and summoned to attend to Looloo’s cut. A quick eye check and cleansing of her wound and we were out of the hospital. It was efficient and quick beyond my expectations.  Of course the speed and the bill would have been very different, had we had gone to the local section. Going to the hospital is not exactly one of the must-do things while in Shanghai but at least I’ve experienced it.  Hopefully, I won’t have to make another trip anytime soon. 

And just in case you are wondering how Looloo is doing, she is fine. We just have to wait for the wound to heal to see if it leaves any scar.

** some circumstances have been adapted to protect the identity of the subjects

“I criticize Singapore a lot, but I love Singapore.”

A fellow-Singaporean made this declaration over a late dinner at Le Platane in Xintiandi earlier this week. Working in Hong Kong and shuttling frequently to Shanghai, she keeps up with news from home by watching Channel NewsAsia. And on a night out amongst fellow-Singaporeans, she complains animatedly about Singapore between bites of suckling pig; but even before the special apple tart arrived, she’s unabashedly waving the red and white flag again, proving to be the number one fan, not just of Channel NewsAsia, but of all things Singapore!

I guess she succinctly encapsulates how many Singaporeans feel about Singapore.  Citizens criticize the politics and complain about the lack of freedom, the rising cost of housing, ridiculously priced cars… the list is long. 

It seems being Singaporean gives us the right to gripe about our own country. 

But, oh pity the non-Singaporean who criticizes Singapore! Suddenly Singapore’s positive qualities spew forth. We are non-corrupt; our systems are the best; we made it even without natural resources; we are a harmonious multi-racial society; we will hold the first night F1 race in the world; we are most-this and best-that.

I love Singapore.

I love the food, the efficiency, the cleanliness, the convenience, even the weather (especially since suffering my first winter in Shanghai).

For 3 National Days so far, I’ve had the privilege of doing the commentary for the Parade. The amount of work that goes into the preparation of each Parade is mind-blowing; from the planning to the details of mobilizing people. There were rehearsals after rehearsals but I loved every one of it. More than anything, I love the spirit of Singaporeans. Every time before the show starts, I still get butterflies in my stomach. 

August 9 this year, I will be covering the National Day Gala at the Pudong Shangri-la. It marks the first time in 11 years that I’m celebrating national day abroad. 

Although I will not be in Singapore, I am there in spirit.