The Red Lions were all set for the much anticipated beach cricket/beach football/fiendishly difficult beach quiz day at Fulong. After having talked about doing something on the beach for quite some time, we finally got around to organising it. Expecting 15 to 20 people, the trip was organised, some of the guys deciding also to camp down overnight - obviously not going to happen for Joanne and Noodle, but in my excessively energetic mood, I decided to ride down on the mountain bike. 

 

Paddy decided he wanted to do the same, and so it was arranged. The event was arranged at the Fu Bar, where my best man Et is head chef and owner, with lots of beer and meaty goodness (doesn't quite sound right coming from a vegetarian!) and veggie stuff sorted out. Everything was looking perfect.

 

Until a typhoon started to head in Taiwan's direction. On the Tuesday I was checking 4 different sites to check the expected path of the typhoon, and it looked as though, despite changing direction three or four times, it would miss us. On the Friday night though, it was still heading in our direction, and so there was confusion about whether or not it would hit. A direct hit on the east coast would mess up our plans completely, and one of the Lions - one of the gayer variety - tried to get the event cancelled. I was having none of it - but would send out updates early on the Saturday morning to let everyone know what was going on.

 

There were also a couple of cancellations - some children were sick, some other issues came up, so we were down to around 15 people in total, which was still a decent number. Paddy also had something come up, so it looked like I was riding alone. I figured on 5 hours door to door. It may only be 85km, but I am not as fit as I once was. And the last time I did the ride to Fulong, it took me about 5 hours. It was a good guesstimate.

 

Saturday came, and there was not a cloud in the sky. The typhoon had changed to a northerly direction and was not going to be a threat to the island, so I sent out a confirmation mail to let the boys know it was on. At 10:30 I was on the mountain bike enjoying a nice tail wind as I headed along the river, south towards Taipei city, then across to Muzha and the zoo, then out to Shenkung. At the intersection where the 106 heads off in different directions, I took a break for some Pocari, getting a couple more bottles for the climb ahead. I was on schedule, in fact ahead by about 20 minutes, and refreshed - as much as I could be given the searing heat - I started the climb up towards Ping Xi. Twenty minutes up and a Mitsubishi whizzes past me, then brakes and pulls over. I'm thinking, must be someone I know - who is it? Then out of the back seat comes the wirey figure of a man I know very well - my father-in-law. So I stop to say hi - being the polite guy I am!  Turns out, he was on the way to Shifen for a run along the railway tracks.

 

"Are you going to Shifen?" asked my father in law.

 

"No - Fulong," I replied.

 

Not very often I get to impress the father in law, but this was one of those times. He may not have said anything, but his eyes and a small nod of approval said that he reckoned that to be a suitable distance. He said bye, jumped back in to the car, and we went our separate ways. At the highest road point I took a quick breather, the legs starting to feel the heat and distance and the incline, before cruising down in to Ping Xi, and then past the Cafe Monet, and a short while later I was turning off to the right along the road which would take me to the coast. 

 

Heading up once more, I stopped to take some photos of so may butterflies pollenating the colourful flowers that were in abundance on the side of the road. By now I was just 25 km away from Fulong, the worst over, but still if I had a head wind I knew it would be a major challenge - my legs were aching and I wanted a beer. I got to the top, through the tunnel and then it was downhill, the Giant XTC tonking down, hitting some serious speeds, and then it was a relatively easy ride along, the wind easing, as I followed the railway and river down towards the coast, in to Shuangxi, and then the final kilometres down to Fulong.

 

In Shuangxi I saw the first sign of Fulong, and it gave me hope, and I thought there were just a few km left, but then I got to a tiny village and realised there were 4 or 5 more km than I had thought. Slightly demoralised, I dug deep, knowing that those ice cold beers might have to wait an extra 15 to 20 minutes, but I pedaled on, finding the energy from the last remnants of Pocari in my bottle. With the benefit of hindsight I should have stopped at the only mom n pop shop that I saw, to pick up a bottle of water or another Pocari, but I was not - strangely enough - in the mood to stop any more, and I carried on, pausing only to take more photos of the river.

 

And then I got to the point where - a couple of years ago, on the other time I rode the same journey - Etienne had caught me up in his car, the day it was pissing down with rain, and I smiled with the memories. I was only a few minutes, a few kilometres away now and somehow I found I some additional energy and got to the intersection with the number 2 highway, turned right, and hit Fulong head on. Through the tiny village to the southern edge, left towards the temple, and I had made it.

 

Waiting were Etienne - deep in interview mode - alongside Brigitte and Kevin, and sitting at the table, beers in the cooler, Chancy, Mirko and his woman. Nice one.

 

Shortly after, other Red Lions arrived, Joanne drove in with Lyndon, and food was eaten, beers were drunk, and an afternoon turned in to evening, the sun setting behind the mountains, no sign of the typhoon, no signs even of clouds.

 

And after enjoying the fantastic spread laid on by the Fu Bar, we put the bike in the back of the car and headed home. 

 

As my mucker Markie Boy would say, what a ride!

It’s a kind of disappearing act. Not 4 weeks ago there was space along our road for 20 cars to park. Then some bright spark got the idea of turning half that space in to a motorcycle/scooter only parking area. So from the beginning of the month, all the car drivers have been competing for less parking spaces. Given the fact that the breakfast store and the fishing tackle shop on the main part of the road decide all the time to block off another three parking spaces, and the building site a little further on has blocked off the entrance and exit to their location, and in total we’ve lost something along the lines of 25 car parking spaces.

 

And then, to top it all, they decide to dig up the road, just past where they have added the motorcycle parking area, thus eliminating all bar 2 places to leave your car overnight. Sure there are plenty of other spaces further down along the river, but then you have to walk a long way, and with an ever-growing noodle who seems to get heavier by the day – taking after his father – that’s not ideal.

 

Having taken the day off on Monday to take the noodle to the clinic for a check up, we left the car in the motorcycle spaces, taking up as little space as possible, despite the fact that there were 30 available spaces and just 2 scooters around. Relaxing upstairs in the apartment, the air con on, we got a call from our security guard saying get downstairs ASAP – they want to tow my motor.

 

So I rush down, and the pigs have already loaded the Nissan on to the back of the red tow truck. I look at Plod and tell him, in my best Chinese:

 

“Give me my car back”

 

I am not in the mood for any crap, officious or otherwise.

 

The guy driving the truck wants to drive off. He’s ready. All he needs is the go ahead from plod, and the green traffic light and he is gone.

 

“You parked illegally,” the pig informs me. Like I had no idea.

 

“Only because it’s impossible to park legally in this town,” I retorted. “First you turn car parking spaces in to motorcycle spaces, then you dig up the rest of the road. Where do you want me to park? Linkou?”

 

I follow up by giving him my Paddington Bear stare, which – very surprisingly – works in my favour. Either that or the security guard saying something to the pig in Taiwanese did. Doesn’t matter – plod told the guy in the truck to leave the car, so he gets out, looking all pissy (no doubt the guy is on a commission deal for each car he tows), releases the rear wheels then lowers my car down.

 

I have the decency to thank him for it. He has the decency to ignore me whilst looking even more pissy. Nob.

 

Plod walks off, I smile at him. He doesn’t look happy or unhappy – totally indifferent. What do I care? I get the car, drive off and take a wee while to find a legal parking spot. A short time later there is someone parked right behind me, on a red line. Needless to say, the next morning when I woke up and headed off to take the noodle to his nanny, that car was still there, despite being illegally parked too. Plod knows when he’s been beaten. 

Shanghai is a city which – I get the feeling – is struggling to cope with the crazy speed of change whose grip it finds itself firmly in. Everywhere you go, you see the cranes of construction, new buildings appearing almost overnight, out with the old and in with the new.

 

It’s vibrant. Living. 24 hours a day, a city you can get a cup of coffee in at 2 in the morning. Where you can get your favourite food any time. A city that does not sleep, in the truest sense of the phrase. You see people walking down the street at all hours, a taxi driver taking a leak at 3 in the morning next to a gated apartment building. A city where so many shops are open, even in the small hours of the morning.

 

Coming from Taiwan, where convenience is key, it looks like Shanghai has made it an art form. There is nothing you can’t get – massages, clothes, food, sex. It’s all here for you, and you don’t have to look far to find it. From KTV’s which appeal to the masses of Taiwanese who have moved or been relocated here, where even Taiwanese hostesses can be hired by the hour, to an abundance of 7-Elevens and Family Marts, Taiwan looks in comparison like a sleepy village.

 

And no wonder.

 

But the people who have been living here for their whole lives, they are the ones who suffer the most, from the observations I have made. Zhong Shan Park in Chang Ning District on a Saturday lunchtime is full of older generation people, getting together and playing their traditional music, singing, playing mah-jong. Others, with children, fly their kites against a backdrop of green trees and new high rise blocks; children practicing their acrobatic moves against the constant noise of construction in the background. The city of Shanghai truly never stops growing.

 

I did not get to ask people how they feel about this – they are not very open to foreigners here, unlike in Taiwan, and I was eyed with suspicion – but I could see it in their eyes. There is a sadness in them, perhaps of something that they have lost. Shanghai was once a city with a huge French influence. Today there is little left of that, and the park tries hard to bring back some reflections of old times, recreating bridges and pagodas from the Qin Dynasty, attempting the nostalgic look for a city that seems to lose more of its traditional values than it keeps. But somehow, in among all these relaxing surroundings, it just does not quite work.

 

It’s a one block park, prime real estate and you have to wonder how long the city will resist building on it. It’s close to the public transport network, and right in the middle of a major business district. With some nice walkways, an abundance of trees, all of which are losing their bark – another prime example of the ecological issues that this country is facing – and all types and colours of flowers, it is a relaxing place for a city that can’t stop moving.

 

But progress – if it can be termed that way – is never far from you. At the exit of the park is a McDonalds. That’s enough to make me go and join those sad older people in the park, reminiscing of times past, where a man could walk for days in this country without finding a KTV, a coffee shop and a fast food restaurant.

 

Those times have long gone. Is China ready for this revolution?

Much has been documented in my blog (see posts passim) about the lack of safety shown by Taiwanese drivers and road users, but never before have I seen as much crap going on as in the past few weeks.

 

Firstly, during a prolonged period of rain, where there were showers every day for 9 or 10 days, I saw at least one accident every day for 9 consecutive days. Most of them involving scooter riders.

 

The mentality, it seems to me, is that people look at the rain, and think “oh – it’s wet, so I had better ride quicker than usual to keep as dry as possible” or “oh it’s raining, so most people will drive safer, which means I can ride more dangerously”. The problem with the latter is that most people will actually drive more dangerously in the rain here, thus augmenting the problem. And when collisions occur – for example – on the bridge across the river, huge queues of traffic form, making it impossible to get to the destination on time.

 

Now I am getting used to being cut up by some nob who has decided his Mercedes is much more important than my Nissan, and although I will not just lie down and accept it (honking the horn is a good stress reliever), I won’t just close the gap on the guy to cut him off (and yes it generally is a male driver, but not always!). But the truth is that there are so many riders and drivers out there who are more interested in themselves and can not see any further than that, which causes stupid accidents. Driving 30cm from the guy in front in bad conditions is going to get you a trip in an ambulance at some stage my friend. Maybe not today, but one day your luck will run out. Hurting yourself is self inflicted stupidity, but when you then harm others because you are too much of a dickwad to work out that you need to drive according to the conditions, that’s when you need to be locked up.

 

Case and point: last week I was driving in to work, and was arriving at a set of traffic lights where I could see a guy standing on the side of the road, his arm in a sling, looking exceedingly sheepish. Just behind him, on the pavement, and deeply embedded in to a telephone exchange box, was his car. I think it was once a Mondeo. Now though, it was going nowhere. Obviously the ambulance had patched him up and he was now waiting for someone to come and pick him up.

 

On top of that, I really don’t get these idiot parents who will put their child on the scooter, sandwiched in between two parents (and perhaps also one or two of their siblings) without a damn crash helmet. Do they not realise that this is dangerous? Do they even care? Is there a brain cell in that head of theirs that could take a little time off chewing that betel nut to think about the danger the parents are placing their children in by doing that?

 

This morning, as I was approaching the airport on the way to the office, one of my fears was realised as I got to one junction where cars regularly cut up on-coming vehicles by turning left, instead of waiting for the junction to be clear. And it was once more a Mercedes driver who this time had just knocked a scooter rider off his bike. The guy was trapped under the weight of his bike, his daughter (perhaps just 3 years old) sitting up, crying. At least she was able to cry. With no crash helmet, she was as lucky as they come.

 

But I doubt the rider of the scooter will change his ways by perhaps spending the $3 US to purchase a child’s helmet. After all, what’s his kid’s safety when he can buy a whole bag of betel nuts with that cash?

Taiwan is not known for its ability to produce good marketing. In fact, it could be said that whereas in Europe and the US and other major and developed economies, marketing is seen as a key strategy for the promotion of a certain product or service, in Taiwan it is seen as an unnecessary expense.

 

Finding good marketing here is really extremely difficult, and this is mirrored by the stupid crappy TV adverts you find all over the place. There are stars who seem to endorse just about every single product on the market – in their day, the girl group SHE was on just about every other TV commercial. Thankfully though they have split up, and the S girl (Selena) has gone for a solo career, leaving just HE. Apparently though the 2 remaining girls have not gone by that name.

 

Aboriginal singer, A-Mei, has endorsed Taiwanese Tea, Taiwan beer and Coca Cola over the last few years. Taiwan beer though has recently been taken over by the queen of all commercials, Taiwanese dancer Jolyn, who seems to spend more time earning cash through her commercials appearances than she does on stage with her dance routines. Jolyn has done commercials for a consumer electronics company, Quaker oats, Taiwan Beer, Toyota, some potato chip brand, Pepsi, McDonalds, Pantene shampoo and even Max Factor cosmetics. Anyone who has seen the star without her make up recently will tell you she most likely needs a Max Factor makeover more than most young ladies.

 

Yet despite all this uber-public visibility, the Taiwanese seem to love it. They certainly don’t see anything wrong with endorsing so many different (and perhaps even conflicting?) products. Quaker oats – for example – claims their product is something that will help you slim. Right after that ad, comes the potato chips commercial on TV. I have never heard of a potato chip that ALSO assists the slimming process. But maybe that’s just me. And maybe it’s called balance.

 

Recently Jolyn was in Hong Kong for the shooting of yet another commercial. Poor girl must be so over-worked. And apparently losing her hair too – I hope that’s not the after effects of too much Pantene!

 

If I was the manager of any of these stars, I would be looking at how much they are actually ruining themselves by endorsing so many products. Instead of doing all that work for so many people at so low a cost, why not instead push for more money by doing less, thus maintaining the value of their star symbol status?

 

And if the products are not being endorsed by well known stars then they try to make whatever they are doing cute. Cute little girls with cute little voices telling the Taiwanese people how wonderful this product is, whatever it is, not that they would ever actually go out and use it or buy it themselves. Food commercials regularly show someone not actually eating the food they are promoting. You want me to buy that product mucker, you’d better get tucking in to the damn thing and show me you’re really enjoying it.

 

Then there is just the plain stupid ad. During the World Cup, on terrestrial TV, there is always the damn annoying Pinky advert which tells children to eat their candy when you’re driving, or when you’re bored. Yes really. In the car, in the car, eat Pinky. When you’re bored, eat Pinky. I kid you not one tiny bit. Who thinks up these words? Who comes up with all this? Certainly not a marketing agency I would ever want to employ!

 

In the extremely rare event that there is a good commercial, an original idea, then it is nicked, copied, and plagiarised so often that it just gets on your nerves too. Jack in the Box adverts from the USA (where Jack has some ubersized non-human head) have been copied by 7-Eleven (not TOO bad) and also by Cathay Bank, which try to add a cute song and essentially end up annoying the crap out of me.

 

Then finally you have the commercials that just make no sense whatsoever. Like the guy talking business on his cellphone, out with his family at the same time. “That’s my son,” he says before fading to a new scene where he is shopping with his wife, and mentions in to the phone “that’s my wife” and then later in the evening, walking the dog… yes you guessed it.

 

Any woman in a situation where her husband was constantly talking business would tell the guy to get off the damn phone before she engages a divorce lawyer. And any boss in Taiwan would not allow the guy out of the office for such lengths of time either, simply because that is how business here works. And if he was the boss then he would want to be in the office to keep an eye on all the lazy assed workers who tend not to do any work when the boss is not there.

 

This lack of credibility within the commercial sector is what gets me most. If you want me to buy a product that you want are going to show on a commercial on TV or in the local media, then sell it to me. Make me want it. Make me realise that I can’t live without it.

 

And for the love of Christ, don’t get Jolyn or some other Taiwanese star promote it unless it is a TRUE endorsement of the brand.

Since becoming a father, one thing I have noticed is the fact that whereas before I would have a certain amount of time to do the things I liked, such as play games on the computer, ride mountain bike, play football, go out with Joanne to do things, now all of that has disappeared. Sure, I have had special permission to go to Bangkok for the Easter tournament, which was awesome, but even simple things such as the morning ritual has completely changed, and where I used to have maybe 30 minutes to drink my coffee and wake up in peace and tranquility, that too has disappeared.

 

I find that no longer is it post 11PM that i go to bed, but closer to 10. And i am absolutely shattered by the time I get to sleep. 

 

I notice too that the last time I wrote anything on the blog was 2 months ago, just after Lyndon was born. Sure I have the Red Lions stuff to do, but that is not TOO difficult or time consuming.

 

The only thing that does consume all my energy, time, money and other resources is the cutest little noodle of all time.

 

And I wouldn't change that for the world.

Cao Ping went into the depression first – it had, on reflection, most likely
started on the plane. It took me some time to realise just what was going on
inside Cao Ping’s head – she went silent and, according to Xi Ghong, was not
eating. The coldness from her parents returned, and they would not allow me
to see her, not that they asked what had happened – they assumed though
that I was the source of their daughter’s anguish and unhappiness.

I was lost without Cao Ping. I knew why she was unhappy, but I just could
not get to her. I so needed to speak with her though there was nothing I
could do but wait. The longer I had to wait, the more depressed I became
and the lonelier I felt. There were still nine days before school started for
another term and I would spend my days in the orchid gardens, trying to
finish the book on Vietnam that Xi Ghong had given me. Strange, how the
pages just would not turn, that I would read the same paragraph over and
over and not get any further.

Couples would come to the gardens to pose for their wedding photographs,
both the bride and the groom smiling in the knowledge that they would soon
be married to the partner they love, the photographer directing them into
certain poses, making sure he got the light just right. The scent of the
orchids made me relax a little and the warmth of the August days made me
forget temporarily the fact that Cao Ping was so down, and I thought that it
would be so good for her to get out of her apartment for a while. Then the
afternoon rain showers would kick in, and dispel the magic and wonder of the
orchid gardens. Instantly the wedding parties would disappear, the
photographers rushing to pack up their equipment before it got wet, the
bride and groom magically finding umbrellas to protect them from the warm
rain.

I packed my book into a protective bag and packed it away, taking care not
to let it get wet – after all, it was my most prized possession. Walking back
to Chinatown, where even as an inhabitant my whole life I was still getting
strange looks from the same people who had been regarding me with
disapproval for the last ten years, I would allow myself to get wet. The warm
water could for a while at least hide the unhappiness on my face from
strangers, would allow me to escape to a world that was truly my own.
Once back in the apartment, I made extra sure that I did not make the floor
wet. Xi Ghong had once slipped on the floor, wet from the rain that I had
brought in and had become, understandably, very angry. I slipped out of my
soaking clothes, still warm from the equatorial rain showers, and took a
shower, cleaning myself of the grit and dirt of the city. I felt remarkably
refreshed afterwards and took a look outside to see if there was any chance
of some sunshine later – the weather in Singapore is so changeable and rain
can pour down within a minute of it being completely sunny and vice versa.
It is without doubt one of the many charms of the peninsular.

I decided I needed to see Cao Ping and when the rain had subsided I left the
apartment and headed over to see her. I was lucky, as both her parents were
out – having left her to her own devices. When she opened the door, she
looked as though she had not eaten anything for weeks, her hair was untidy,
something that was so untypical of her, as she would always keep her hair
well groomed. Whereas she was usually a very attractive girl, she looked
very tired, almost ugly, but the shock that hit me most of all was her eyes.
They had lost their sparkle, they had lost their magic. It was as if she had
lost her fundamental being, her spirit.

I grabbed a key for her apartment and much to Cao Ping’s resistance, took
her by the hand and led her out of the apartment. There was no way I could
let her lose herself and I had to make sure she did not give up. It was
threatening to rain and I knew that I had to keep her dry – if she had not
eaten for as long as it looked then she would be very weak.
“Cao Ping, don’t let your spirit wane. You have so much strength, so much to
give.”

“It was useless Fu Yun,” she said, almost sounding as if it was the first time
she had spoken since we had returned. “We went there to help, but we
accomplished nothing.”

“Did you not see the gratitude in their faces? How can you say we achieved
nothing? Even if it was just for a while, we brought some hope and light to
their lives. You need to continue that hope Cao Ping.”

I looked her in her eyes, and held both her hands. We stood there silent for
what could have been minutes, could have just been seconds. There was
nothing more we needed to say. She knew I was right, but it was just a case
of bringing herself out of her unhappiness. After a while she managed a brief
smile, as much as I could hope for that day. We went to a drink stand and
bought some fruit ice drinks, standing there slurping in silence, or at least
relative silence. The drink brought back some colour to Cao Ping’s face and
she regained some of her beauty. I so wanted to take her in my arms and
hold her but knew that such expressions of emotions were frowned on,
especially in Chinatown, especially between a Chinese and a Yang Gway Tzr.
“Thank you Fu Yun,” Cao Ping said as we walked back to her apartment. I
said nothing – there were no words to say any more. I had started the
upturn in her mood – the rest was up to her, and we both knew she was
strong enough to make it.

Soon enough the school year came round once more and on the first day
back the school was buzzing, all the kids telling stories about what they did
during the break. We were given a new Chinese language teacher – a young
lady who told us this was her first teaching job - who immediately went
about setting us a project – writing down what we had done since the end of
the previous term. Cao Ping, although we had been separated and were no
longer allowed to sit near each other, made eye contact with me and her
expression told me immediately that she was going to write something other
than what had really happened.

Xi Ghong had warned me the evening before that this may also happen, so I
was prepared. Like Cao Ping, I wanted to remain modest about what we had
done and not go on about it, as if we were fishing for glory. I smiled over and
nodded, letting her know I understood, part of me still wanting to shout it out
that we all have to do something to help the Vietnamese refugees in Hong
Kong.

I started writing about going to Sentosa island, about the cable car ride
across the water, about the view, knowing that I had not made that trip since
the previous year. I wrote of an excursion across the border to Malaysia and
of staying with a family there in a village in the forest, even though that
family did not exist. My calligraphy of Chinese was far from perfect and I was
forever being told to concentrate more on getting the characters just right.
Patience, apparently, was what was missing. Not the first time someone had
told me that, and certainly not the last time either.

One of my favourite places in Singapore was always the Dragon Gardens and
I would spend much time in the Chinese Temple, praying. Many times Xi
Ghong would ask me where I had been, if I was late home, and although he
knew exactly everything that ever happened in my life, he would always
show interest, especially when it was to do with the spiritual side. I had
grown up with Buddhism and both Xi Ghong and Mei-Lee were very spiritual,
a personal altar taking up a lot of the space in our living room. It was
considered bad luck for a marriage if the husband and wife were to pray at a
temple at the same time, and so I would often go with Xi Ghong.

I wrote at school about the smell of incense burning and the peaceful inner
feelings I got from the smoke filling my lungs, from praying for the spirits,
and of the relaxation I felt by my presence at the temple over the summer.
All very true as far as my feelings were concerned, all totally false as far as
my activities during the vacation went.

As I handed in my work at the end of the lesson, teacher smiled at me,
something that took me very much by surprise. I felt as though there may be
some changes in my acceptance this year, and it looked as if teacher was
making the first move. Teacher’s smile, however, remained unnoticed by Cao
Ping, but that did not surprise me immensely.

After school, despite teacher’s warm smile, I felt a little depressed. Cao Ping
had been picked up by her father and he drove her away. To have a car in
Singapore means you have a lot of money and her father had exactly that.
Our homes were not separated by much in terms of geography, but we lived
in two different worlds. Xi Ghong and Mei-Lee lived very modestly, even by
Chinese standards, despite Xi Ghong's wealth which he kept hidden from
public knowledge. Cao Ping’s family had it and flaunted it. It was as if the
non-acceptance had started all over and I wondered what I had done to
cause her father’s resentment and the foolish side of me thought that he
probably did not want some Yang Gway Tzr to get his money when he and
his family passed on. After all, Cao Ping was an only child and therefore the
heir to the obvious fortune should anything happen. I quickly dismissed these
thoughts, although I knew he was biased towards non-Chinese.

How having so much money changes many people, I thought. My real father,
I had found out a few years before, had millions of Dollars, and that, he had
assumed, had given him the right to go round cheating, corrupting his soul
even more than it was. All this money going around, spent on making more
money but never finding true happiness. This kind of person would never
really know or understand true happiness because they were too busy
chasing something else. They would think that the money brought them
happiness, that it brought them love. Yet they had no idea that the true
happiness comes from within.

I was thinking of true inner happiness when I felt as if I had never been
further from it. With Cao Ping around, I knew the happiness a child could feel
and the true feeling of warmth and security it had given me to be with her.
Without her, I questioned the meaning of my whole existence.
I have no idea how I got there but before I realised it, I was in the middle of
Raffles City, bastion symbol of the British colonial rule, where you could just
smell the money. In less than two decades of independence from Malaysia,
Singapore had shown the world just what it could do by blending so many
cultures together. There may not be total unity among the various races of
Singapore, but there was generally tolerance and acceptance. Still there was
not a lot of inter-racial integration and the Chinese, Malays, Caucasians and
Indians kept very much to themselves.

Raffles City was where there were more Caucasians and I would not be
looked at in the same way as when I was walking down Hong Kong Street in
Chinatown. All the same, I felt so out of place there. The realisation that the
area was one of the most affluent places in South East Asia made me want to
run away from the world. Where there is money I thought, remembering the
bets on the school football match, there is almost always corruption pretty
close by.

I walked in the warm afternoon rain shower, not in any mood to rush to
shelter, watching as all the tourists would run seeking a doorway to hide in.
This made me smile a little and I felt a little better so I decided to go home,
via the Dragon Gardens – after all, I had written about it at school, and to
make me feel better about not telling the whole truth, I would go and reduce
the lie a little, in my mind at least.

The Buddhist monk at the Dragon Gardens knew me, and smiled a little when
he saw me walking in. A man of acceptance of all people, he was very easy
going. I remember his long, grey, thin moustache and his flowing silk robe,
inscriptions of a dragon embedded into the fine cloth – he would always wear
this cloth, and would never smell of anything but incense.

He chanted a few prayer chants and made his way to the back of the
chamber. I took off my shoes and left them outside as I went in, the familiar
smells overcoming me. As I stood before the huge statue of Buddha, I
emptied my mind of all thoughts and chanted silently, mouthing the words of
prayer as I went through my rituals of saying my bai bai.

I have no idea how long I was there, but when I was finished it was starting
to get dark and it was raining hard, drops splashing off the trees onto the tin
roof. The Buddhist monk came out from behind the altar with a friendly smile
on his face and a silver tray, a teapot and two cups delicately balanced on
top.

“You have been here a long time Fu Yun,” he said. “Much is troubling you.
Prayer and meditation helps, but so too does tea.”

He poured two cups of oolong tea and looked at me expecting me to empty
my thoughts. I knew that he and Xi Ghong often talked and so I was a little
wary of him – beware of the smile that comes too soon, Xi Ghong would
always tell me.

I did not really want to talk with the monk too much, but realised I was very
thirsty so I gladly accepted the tea. As we drank, there was no talk, but it
was obvious he wanted to hear something – it was very easy to read in his
eyes.

Outside, there were a couple of tourists braving the afternoon showers,
obviously caught unawares by the weather as they were without umbrellas,
and they were about to enter the temple. I put my cup down on to the table
in front of me, and rose to go to them. Talking with the monk was far from
my number one priority and even tourists who I knew would ask me many
questions seemed more inviting than the alternative.

“You should not go in there together,” I said to the wet and ragged couple.
“It brings bad luck to the relationship.”

“How do you know that?” asked the lady.

“Going to the temple together is not a mark of respect to the spirits and if
you do this, it will not be good for your future.”

The man looked a little frustrated, but finally said, in a very American accent,
“Well, honey, you go on in. I’ll wait out here.”

I thought that I may get thanked for my advice, but there were no words
said further, so I returned to my tea and the monk, who had not moved from
his position.

“You are a very conscientious person Fu Yun. Many a Chinese would not have
said anything.”

“I do not wish to disturb the spirits,” I said. “If they are disturbed, then
maybe they will be unhappy with me. I wish to please them. Maybe if they
are happy with me…...” I broke off.

I sipped on my tea and the monk re-filled my cup, but I said nothing more.

"Do not worry Fu Yun," the monk said calmly. "I am sure the spirits are not
angry with you. I think that they are actually protecting you, even if it does
not always seem that way."

"I hope you are right," I said, feeling a little calmer. The monk smiled at me
warmly.

That evening, as Mei-Lee was serving dinner, Xi Ghong looked across the
table at me. My sadness at not being able to see Cao Ping was deepest most
of all at dinner, as I knew it had been another day that I had not seen her or
spent time near her. It was a very difficult period and I was very often close
to tears because of the weight of my heart. The time we spent together at
school was not enough and I missed the study periods together, the being
together with that special person, the one person who gave the child in me
true meaning.

“Your heart is big for someone so small Fu Yun. You tell tourists to be careful
when a Chinese would not think to.”

“It is obviously not enough,” I said, my annoyance and impatience obvious in
my voice, forgetting for the moment what the monk told me, and perhaps
falling too much back in to self pity. I did not mean to sound so upset and
tried hard to keep back the frustration, but it was futile. I was immediately
ashamed of myself for talking like that, and bowed my head.

“I’m sorry, Xi Ghong”

Dinner was eaten practically in silence, until dessert when Xi Ghong got up.
He would never leave the table until dinner was completed, but he told me to
stay still, and I knew better than to disobey Xi Ghong.

When he returned, he held a small box from my favourite bakery. In all my
time I had never known Xi Ghong to go to a store, but he had gone to the
best place in the whole of Chinatown to bring me a coconut-covered gluten
cake.

The fact that he had gone to such trouble for me brought me out of my
sadness and made me realise that he did think I was special – he had never
done that for any of his own children and even Mei-Lee showed surprise on
her face. In the box, there were four cakes, and for a while I looked
confused.

“Is Cao Ping coming?” I asked, excitedly, hoping beyond hope that she would
be there.

“No, Fu Yun. Two are for you. I know how you like them.”

Disappointment ate at my heart, but the pleasure from Xi Ghong’s gesture
was enough to make the sadness feel less and so I happily accepted the
cakes. Somehow, a smile crept across my face and I thanked Xi Ghong. Just
how he had found out about what had happened at the temple was obvious –
he and the monk spoke with each other often. But Xi Ghong had a network of
contacts that, I was soon to find out, extended way out to the Mainland and
probably beyond.

So finally he is here – the little bundle of joy that we have been waiting for patiently and impatiently on and off for the last 9 months. Having had a million checks at the hospital over the last few months, we headed in on Thursday and the doc said “you’re having your baby tomorrow”.

 

This brought a reality check for both Joanne and me, and we realised this was the last night of freedom for us both. Joanne knew what she wanted, and that was night market food, so we headed out for a stinky tofu for me, and then drove to the Shi Lin night market for lots of different stuff for the wife. We had a chua bing, which was not too bad, but not as good as we have had in the past, and then Joanne decided on some other food, Taiwanese meaty specialities, which she was in the mood for.

 

We headed home, full and satisfied, with the waking realisation of what was going to happen within the next 24 hours or so. The fact that Lyndon was coming also brought up that other issue – would I be able to make it to collect the olds who were arriving the same day as the noodle?

 

We woke up together early on the Friday, and I made my early morning coffee, then showered and shaved, getting dressed up nicely in my Exeter shirt. After all, it was an historic moment, and it needed to be combined with the right attire. We then drove to the office to collect my laptop and let the guys in the office know that today was the day.

 

I got in, and the guy at front desk told me there was a vegetarian option for lunch.

 

“No need for it,” I explained. “I’m not here.”

 

“You’re not here?” he enquired.

 

“No – you can’t see me. I am really not here.”

 

Oh,” he said, obviously not understanding, “so where are you?”

 

“At the hospital,” I replied. Now he got it.

 

“Gong xi!”

 

After writing mails to the boss to let him know I was at the hospital and taking a few days paternity leave, we headed on to the freeway, and got to the car park in Taipei where we left the car, and walked to the Family Mart for snacks and drinks and stuff.

 

In to the hospital to register and check in, and luckily Joanne’s aunty who works in the hospital had made sure she got a room where she had some privacy for the countdown to Lyndon’s arrival. Alongside me, Joanne’s mother also came along, to be there for support. The day was long, and a little boring, but it gave me the opportunity to play a few games of Football Manager whilst Joanne watched some TV. The ten channels available in the room were all in Chinese, and no one was really in the mood for talking, too many thoughts about what was about to happen floating unspoken in everyone’s mind.

 

When mid afternoon came, and there was still no sign of Lyndon, I was told to watch one of the pieces of equipment to let Joanne know when she should expect a contraction, and as they were coming now every few minutes, and causing no minor distress to my wife, I was kept busy.

 

Evening then fell, and it looked as though Lyndon’s arrival would be later than expected, so I texted the olds to let them know they should expect to take a taxi in to town. They texted back that they were about to board in HK, and would call when they got in to Taiwan.

 

Finally though the doctor said he had seen enough, asked Joanne if she could do a couple more hours of this, and she said she did not have the energy. But at this time I did not know that! So in to the delivery room she and I went – your humble chronicler in some seriously sexy scrubs. She was hooked up to some machine and was told to push. 2 minutes later, out pops Lyndon. I was a little confused – it shouldn’t be this easy right? What I had not seen to that point was that they had cut open my wife, sticking a vacuum pump to my son’s head all in order to suck him out. Classy.

 

I watched as the boy was cleaned up, and as my wife was stitched up. That’s going to hurt when the anaesthetic wears off, I thought.

 

I was then led out of the delivery room, handed my son – so I gave him a cuddle – and then he was taken away from me for checking. The mother in law was able to take a quick photo of the little noodle, and as he was taken away from me, I asked if I had enough time to go to the airport. This brought a few weird looks until I explained that my parents were coming in. Sure, they said – plenty of time.

 

So off I headed to the airport, texting the olds to let them know I would be there, and that they were grandparents. By the time I got to the airport, they were at passport control, and a few minutes later they came out, and we all drove in to the city to the hospital to say hi to Joanne who was now on the 12^th floor, the delivery room being on the 5^th.

 

A quick hello was followed by a quick goodbye, and I took the olds back to the apartment, via the stinky tofu place because I was hungry again. I left the olds at home and went back to the hospital to look after Joanne. She was not able to walk so she needed my help every couple of hours to get to the maternity ward where she would be breast feeding Lyndon when he was hungry. And just like his father, that pretty much meant all the time.

 

I was also not allowed in to that part, as there were other women in there who might apparently feel distressed at a man being there. What am I going to do? Check out some other woman’s boobs when my wife has just given birth? Seriously? So whilst I was waiting for the wife, I was walking around, doing nothing, bored essentially. And tired.

 

And after taking her back to the ward, where she could sleep, I was in no comfortable state to get some shut eye myself, and so the sun rose and I was absolutely shattered. It was a day where I was not really able to do much, and I was tired and hungry. I went out looking for some food for Joanne, and also some breakfast for me, and ended up getting a coffee from Starcraps.

 

I got back to the hospital and shortly afterwards Lyndon was brought out to us, and it was awesome to see him alongside Joanne. She was suffering with the after effects of the birth, but still managed a fairly weak smile as she saw Lyndon.

 

I collected the olds who also got to see their grandson for the first time, and we spent the afternoon together talking, just relaxing as other people came to visit – Joanne’s parents, grandmother, sisters, aunt and cousin.

 

I had told Joanne that there was no way I could endure a second night without sleep, and so she asked her mother to come back in the evening to take over the night shift. At around 8 or 8:30 I took the olds for dinner at Café India, and then we headed back home.

 

The next morning I dropped the olds at the Flower Show and then drove up to the hospital to see the wife and noodle, the olds coming in a little later when I was going to head over to football. Just because my son had arrived did not mean that I was going to miss this important game!

 

After the match I returned to the hospital with Clovis, buying pizza for the olds, and bringing back one of the beers I had bought for the team so the old man could also have a quick celebratory beer, and then took the olds back home once more, dropping off Clovis as well, and then returned to the hospital, this time with my bed cover so I could at least try to get some sleep. It worked.

 

Spending the night with my wife and son in the same room was emotional – almost impossible to describe in words. I got a couple of hours sleep, although Lyndon did not allow much as he was hungry a lot of the time. Monday morning arrived though and I had to get the olds to the airport so I headed out of hospital with my bed cover, picked up the car, and drove home. Picked up the olds, in to the elevator and down to the 1^st floor, where the elevator didn’t quite finish, breaking down about 150 cm before reaching the 1^st floor. After a little bit of negotiation with the security guard, who told me the mechanic would be there in 20 minutes, my reply being that I don’t have 20 minutes due to a prior engagement at the airport, I managed to pry open the doors, and jump to safety, helping the olds get down.

 

And then we drove to the airport, the whistle stop tour for my olds over as they headed back to the UK, and I went to collect the wife from the hospital to take her to the clinic. A little paperwork was sorted out, and I was able to take my son, my wife and her mother to the place where Joanne and Lyndon will be looked after for the next 4 weeks.

 

I am so proud of Joanne for what she has gone through – like her husband, she seems to be allergic to pain, but despite this, she hardly complained and very often had a smile on her face. That is no real surprise though – Lyndon is already making us extremely happy (if not tired) parents.

 

There are many life changing events which happen so quickly, you have no time to prepare for them. Events such as this week’s devastating earthquake in Christchurch which has taken so many lives, or the spate of revolution around the world which took Ben Ali and Mubarak by surprise, and which Gaddafi is trying desperately to quash.

 

And then there are more personal events which you do have time to prepare for, such as the birth of a child. With Joanne now so heavily pregnant, she’s waddling around like a fat goose, the wait for Lyndon to be born is slightly frustrating. When we were merely dating, Wednesday evenings were our time together during the week – we would regularly go out to dinner either close to her office, or at the food court on the 2^nd floor of Taipei Main Station, where we found a nice Malaysian place, and also a Tibetan place.

 

Last week, with the realization that those Wednesdays would soon be finishing, we headed to Café India for what we thought would quite possibly be our last Wednesday evening date night together as a twosome. And also, perhaps, thinking that the spicy food would be enough to entice the little one from his comfort zone.

 

Not a chance.

 

With the due date being last weekend Sunday, I thought that perhaps he was waiting for me to play football, but an injury and cancelled game may well have caught him off guard. His father liked to annoy his parents as a child, and this could well be an incident of turnabout is fair play. And what better way to introduce yourself to the world than by interrupting your old man’s football game? However the postponement of that put paid to his little plans.

 

So what next? Lyndon’s grandparents are flying in for the weekend, heading back to Blighty on the way back from Down Under. Now if that had been me, I would make sure that I was not going to come out until the day they left. Probably the time they were half way to the airport – that would be the ideal time. I can imagine it now:

 

“Sorry guys – can’t take you to the airport. Got to turn around and zoom in to hospital. Looks like you have to take a taxi. I’ll just drop you here, in the middle of nowhere.”

 

Yea. Perfect.

 

But perhaps the little one will not be quite as much of a tosser as his old man, especially when you take in to account that half his genes come from the much nicer side of the family that is Joanne. And with this in mind, and the olds’ arrival in less than 36 hours, perhaps he will show the kind of attitude for which his mother is famous – a caring, considerate one. Perhaps just as we are about to leave the airport, he will announce to the world that he is ready, so that we spend the evening in the hospital, waiting for the first wails of the new-born son.

 

But the waiting just means that we can not make plans for anything more than a few hours in advance. With no rain expected this weekend, it is merely hope that drives me towards playing football, or going biking. Will we make our regular Saturday trek to Carrefour for shopping? Will we even be able to have dinner together this evening? Everything that we were used to before now has to have a “maybe” or “let’s wait and see” tag attached to it, because despite him not even arriving yet, our whole worlds already revolve around Lyndon.

 

And I don’t expect that to change over the coming 20 years!

 

To Amsterdam on my first intergalactic cruise of the year, where I was to be introduced to our European team, talk to the press at the exhibition, and then get to the nitty gritty of the marketing discussion on the Friday. The timing of the show meant that I would miss Chinese New Year holidays and celebration, the festivities of spending Chinese New Year’s Eve with Joanne’s family would have to wait until 2012.

The real downside of having to go to Europe was the fact that I could not claim my holiday afterwards, but this is life sometimes. The main concern for me was that she did not go in to labour during the trip.

Having racked up enough air miles this year to get back in to Cathay Pacific’s good books, as well as their business class lounge, the waiting in the airport has become considerably more comfortable. I had played football in the afternoon, having managed to reschedule the match to an earlier time slot so I could play without having to worry about rushing to the airport straight afterwards. Sometimes being the chairman of the team has its advantages.

Nice and clean, but also a little hungry, Joanne dropped me off at the airport, and before you knew it was I checked in and eating some snacks in the lounge, ready for the flight to HK, with the connection a few hours later to Amsterdam. Simple flight over, then back in to the lounge again for some food, something to drink, and a quick check on the net, seeing if my woman was home and online. She was.

The overnight flight was ok – I think I even managed to sleep, but mainly because there was nothing else to do. I had no battery left on my laptop and the electricity socket was not working, so no Football Manager was possible. The “entertainment” system was a head o crap, and the dinner was really terrible. As we approached Amsterdam, breakfast was served and it was no better than the dinner.

Through customs, on to a train, and in to the hotel by 8, the meeting at the company offices was not scheduled until 10:30, so I tried to check in. But an additional €90 for the early check in meant that I would just leave my luggage, get myself a coffee (big mistake) and settle down to use the internet which was – unusually for a European Hotel – free.

I walked to the office – having checked on the map how to get there – and arrived despite the frikking freezing temperatures that had greeted me. Introduced to the guys there, I was still one of the earlier ones to arrive, and then the other European agents came, my boss also arriving and the meeting started.

After an interesting meeting, although to be honest it sounded like more words than action, we headed back towards the hotel. Interestingly, the guy driving who should know Amsterdam inside out, took 15 left hand turns (and no right hand turns) before he found the hotel. I got up to my floor, and it all looked very Japanese. The doors were seriously close to one another, and I wondered what was in store. Opening the door, the answer was clear. I was indeed in a Japanese-esque hotel, with the bed acting as chair, sofa and place to sleep. A big, flat screen TV on the wall, a toilet that was the first thing you see when you open the door, and a shower unit, both of which could be encased in a round sliding door type thing. Really weird and totally surreal.

After dumping the stuff in the room and checking in properly it was time for dinner at a suave restaurant that no one seemed to know how to get to. When we finally made it though, the food and wine were awesome, and their vegetarian fare was really not bad. But they fed us way too many bread rolls to compensate for the small amounts of food. Still, at least I was full.

The next day the show started, and that brought with it the hustle and bustle of a major international event. I headed off to one supplier with the boss, and was essentially ignored by the big boss of the supplier, because I am not important enough. After the meeting I had a look at some of our competitors, and decided that I liked our booth the best.

After the show a lot of people had parties lined up or dinner with clients, so I headed to the hotel, walked along the road and found a place where I could get some veggie food. I took a pizza back to the hotel and watched some TV before falling asleep, getting in a good night’s kip.

The boss was heading back to Taiwan the day afterwards, at least he managed to get some time off from the office with his family. I took a look around the show, got in some meetings with press, had a chat with various people and the day was gone pretty quickly.

The final day of the show was interesting – I had a final look around the event, then decided that it was so empty, I would leave. The plan was to come back for the final hour so I could help tear down the booth. I took a walk back to the hotel, got something to eat, headed out to the local mini-mart and got some water and other goodies, shopping in Europe for things I miss! Around 5 I was back at the RAI. Interesting how I was the only international person who actually came back to help out. All the European reps buggered off.

We dismantled the booth, put everything in to the respective box, and were out by 8:30, just in time for dinner at the local bowling alley. Nice. No food for me except fries and satay sauce. A few beers later and the Dutch guys decided it was time to go out for more, so I joined them and it was only when one guy spilled a whole beer all over me that I thought about leaving. As I smelt like the Amstel brewery, I was not so comfortable with myself, still I managed to get back ok, along with one of the other guys who decided to call it a night.

The next morning I had my meeting where we discussed all marketing projects for the year, came to a decision, and by mid afternoon had finished. Awesome. So I headed out to the supermarket to do a real shopping session, and on the way back found a Pakistani restaurant that looked too good to resist. I got a lentil dish as well as a Bombay aloo and a garlic nan, and took them back to the hotel.

As I got back to the hotel room I turned on the TV to the BBC, and watched England stuff the Welsh at the Millenium Stadium, eating the delicious mélange of lentils and potatoes. There was enough oil in the food though to re-pollute the gulf of mexico, so I got rid of the excesses, concentrating instead on enjoying those awesome flavours of the REAL ingredients.

As the rugby finished, I watched a little more TV before hitting the sack, my flight back to Taiwan the following day being at a good time of day. Packed, ready and farting like a good one, I took the train over to the airport, a mere 20 minutes away from the hotel, and checked in.

As I got through immigration I saw a plant shop, and wondered if perhaps they had parsnip seeds. I was in luck – they did – so I bought loads of them, as well as a small Winnie the Pooh gift for the forthcoming addition to the family, Lyndon, then headed to the BA lounge. Really nasty and cheap, but at least they had a cappuccino for me.

On to the plane, and no sleep – instead, 5 episodes of House, 7 episodes of Top Gear, and before I knew it, I was back in Honkers. Even the food on the way back was a lot better, although it would have been difficult to be worse. And after a short stopover in the Cathay lounge in HK, I was back on the plane, heading back to my woman.