The Path To Paradise Is Paved With Dirt.

So, this was the accompanying title for my travelogue about the mini Sri Lanka adventure I had with 11 others from WKWSCI earlier in August.

Back then I had 3 choices – (a) to do a short internship in Amsterdam at a design studio I chanced upon, (b) go to Vietnam under the NTU Global Discovery Programme, (c) or apply for Pac N’ Go (Haven’t got over that they really named it this) and take a trip to Sri Lanka.

Troubled over how to make a choice, I talked through the pros and cons with many friends during the short window I had to make my decision. Eventually, (a) didn’t fall through though I know it looked the most attractive of the above options, I couldn’t return to Singapore in time for (b), and with pohtecktoes’s encouragement, we both signed up for (c).

This module was pretty mad. Juggling 7 mods this sem stretched me to my physical limits. I took 25AUs in a bid to clear enough so that I would only have to do one more semester of studies. (Planning to take Year 4 Sem 2 to do some freelance work, intern or set up a business.) I tried to justify that I was taking 2 non-examinable mods (Film Fest and this Lanka one), so once the insanity (and boy was it insane) died down, I would have ample time to study for my remaining 5 mods, 2 of which I SU-ed. Sounds pretty okay right? Okay lah. I wouldn’t recommend it and I wouldn’t do it again.

Sooooooo… well, here are some of my favourite shots from the Lanka trip.

Many of you have asked with much curiosity about this country that we know so little about. The 12 of us who went definitely didn’t know what to think of the place ourselves before we went. But my lowdown is this: I will go back. Someday. Hopefully soon.

If I could describe Sri Lanka in one word, it would be this: Raw.
In more words: Raw, untouched, unspoiled, truthful, honest, and naturally beautiful.

There’s just something about how very underdeveloped the whole country is. They’re trying very hard to become well, what every 3rd world country wants to be, and may in time to come lose it’s flavour like much of Singapore has in the name of steely cold progress.

But for now, while you have your usual money grabbing tour merchants (like in Italy) who try to suck you of as much money as they can because you’re a foreigner, the natural beauty of the country is a joy to any traveler who wants an experience down a road that others seldom care to travel. The people aspect, unfortunately, did put most of us off quite a fair bit. But as a seasoned traveler, you just try to wisely worm out of what you can, and focus on enjoying what you came to experience – the untouched and unspoiled Sri Lanka.

It may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but if you fancy yourself a bit of a wanderer who doesn’t mind roughing it out a little bit, then yes. I would recommend the Sri Lanka experience.

Also, I think more than half of the shots were taken while on a moving vehicle, primary our mini bus. I must warn you of this if you ever decide to go to Sri Lanka. The distances between the places may seem few in kilometres by our standards, but by the standards of Sri Lankan roads, you’re normally going at 40–60km/h MAX. There isn’t much traffic to speak of, so it’s not because there are loads of vehicles, but because of the road conditions and how you share the road [which is a dirt road, not a tar road] with tuk tuks that will worm their way into every space they can fit their vehicle into, cows, dogs, cows, cows, and the ‘public buses’ that travel at 150km/h and honk like crazy when they’re approaching.

So. Photos! (Lots of them in this post!)

Drive by shot.

Occasionally we drive by the railway tracks that feel like they go on forever.

They call this a stupa. It's supposedly the next biggest ancient structure after the pyramids. They keep sacred Buddhist relics inside, and like the pyramids, are meant to be kept sealed in and revered only from external altars.

A rather impoverished looking monk at one of the stupas. His sign read something like 'I don't want food or money. Please do not talk to me. Yes you may take pictures.'

We climbed up and up Aradhana Gala...

View from the highest point of the Aradhana Gala.

Yes this is the cliff some of us sat on and took scary looking pictures on. And yes, it is as far a drop as it looks.

We drove past them.

Many of the common people in Sri Lanka don't own cameras, so they chance upon tourists taking photos of them to give us their address to send them the photos of themselves.

Most of the time we're driving past endless stretches of road, trees, road, trees, road, random houses in the middle of nowhere... then we come upon the various little 'town centres'. And this is what they look like.

There. Are. Dogs. Everywhere. And they all look like variations upon a theme of the above dog. Just in different colors. But they all look the same. One breed only: Dog.

We saw the hornets nest. It was big, scary, black, and swarming. It looked like Legion, if we ever knew what Legion looked like.

View from the top of Sigiriya.

Many small houses line the roads, they pick their own coconuts, you stop by and buy them for about 30 Sri Lankan rupees, which is about 35 Singapore cents (exchange rate is 85 rupees to 1 Singapore dollar). Our guide told us this was considered more pricey than it was previously, and that it used to be 15 rupees some years ago.

Watching a 'traditional' fire-walking. It was passe and insincere, really.

This shot was caught by accident, because there wasn't enough light, but someone else's flash went off at the same time as my shutter so I caught enough light to take this photo.

They are very devout Buddhists. One of the major temples we visited.

Temple steps.

Part of the temple. There are paintings lining both sides telling the story of Buddha and how Buddha came to Sri Lanka.

This smiley old man was selling flowers. We were so endeared that we stopped the bus to buy some.

Tea pickers up the hills of Nuwara Eliya.

In the hilly region of Sri Lanka, the temperature actually dips below 20 degrees Celcius. So people up here wear hats and jackets and scarves, which was a bit of an odd transition for us to suddenly see such a big change in attire after a 4 hour drive.

The Sri Lankan landscape is quite beautiful too. Maybe more unkempt than Switzerland, but as we maneuvered the winding roads down the mountainside, it did remind me somewhat of Switzerland, just with messier terrain.

We were driving towards Yala Village for the evening... this was nearing sunset.

Off to hunt leopards at dawn. Red morning sky juxtaposed with the rich red dust of the earth that got EVERYWHERE. In/on my camera, my clothes, my hair, my body, my face. I washed my face thrice and it was still red. You clean your ears, and it's RED. RED RED RED.

Humorous sign at the grand old dame of a hotel. Galle Face Hotel in Colombo is supposed the equivalent of Raffles Hotel in Singapore. Also, it looked like it was almost never refurbished. The lift looked like it stepped right out of that lift scene in Inception. The floorboards creaked. I bathed very quickly because the room was freaky. We were almost hesitant to switch off the lights at night, and so on. But it was definitely very charming in it's old world way. You could tell by the musty magic in the air what a magnificent place it must have been in it's time.

Long exposure shot from the bay by Galle Face hotel. No tripod, just balanced it on another one of those white concrete blocks like the one you see in the picture. The waves were thrashing mightily. Currents were the type no one is allowed to swim in.

Okay. That’s all for now. Now to find another excuse not to study… hey look, it’s about bed time. Goodnight world.

Missing Europe.

So I’ve been home for almost half a year now.

Some friends have said I’ve changed since I came back, especially those who’ve been attempting to study with me for this semester’s finals. I’m more ‘slack’ (or distracted, in a way), less intense about studying, happier, but definitely slacker.

Is this really a ‘return from Europe’ syndrome? Not sure how the rest are faring, but half a year in Switzerland and traveling across more than 20 cities in Europe has taught me more about life than the close-minded, narrow-sighted tunnel vision rat race that we run, constantly and daily, as a Singaporean youth facing Singaporean pressures.

I have learned to relax. To enjoy time. To enjoy people. To have a clearer understanding of the ‘eternal perspective’.

I have been reminded to treasure the people God has blessed me with, to put people above results. To put human beings before goals. To value a person above perfection in their work. To let go of things I cannot control.

I have learned to treasure the gift of time. The gift of time to spend with family, loved ones and treasured friends. To appreciate the fact that at the end of the day, my grades are not going to save me, they are not going to make me happy, the endless chase for perfection can only satisfy for so long, and that my life would be meaningless and worthless if I had no one to come home to, and no friends I can call to share my happiest and crappiest moments with.

I don’t want to wait till I lose somebody, someone gets a terminal disease, or face a near-death experience to realize that it’s time to say ‘I love you’, ‘Thank you’, and ‘I’m glad to call you my friend’ to the people who matter.

So, don’t forget to tell the people who matter to you that you love them. Love them now, not tomorrow, not when the exams are over, not when you have the time, not when they become perfect or do the right thing, not when you can finally prepare something grandiose. But love them simply, and love them fully, and love them now.

—

This post is titled Missing Europe. So here are some other photos from my travels, some from later trips than the last Europe photo post which was of us in Spain. If any of the juniors going to Europe are reading this, please, get excited, travel lots and don’t just be caught up in the photos, but be caught up in the experience.

I am a bit apologetic to say this but I cannot remember which lovely mountain range this is.

Open park. Vienna, Austria.

Home of 'The Sound of Music'. You can take 'Sound of Music' tours, we saw the steps where they sang 'Do Re Mi', the road lined with trees where the kids were climbing when their father returned, the church, the graveyard that inspired the one in the movie, etc. Salzburg, Austria.

Second trip to Bern, Switzerland. In Summer this time.

Memorial to the murdered Jews of Europe. These are massive, walking through them is a bit of a maze. The concrete slabs are designed to produce an uneasy, confusing atmosphere, and the whole sculpture aims to represent a supposedly ordered system that has lost touch with human reason. Berlin, Germany.

Jewish Museum. Very modern. Berlin, Germany.

Sachsenhausen concentration camp, actual prison cell. While not as famous as Dachau or Auschwitz, Sachsenhausen was one of the earliest concentration camps, designed in every possible way to inflict terror and despair (these were carefully thought out in the architecture, hierarchy, design and placement of camps, layout etc). Many of the later camps were modelled after Sachsenhausen. Outskirts of Berlin, Germany.

Park Guell. Barcelona, Spain.

Dancing on the streets. Barcelona, Spain.

Small lake nearing the end of winter, still cold. Lugano, Switzerland.

The Dutch would like you to know Amsterdam has more canals than Venice. Amsterdam, Netherlands.

Nearing sunset, Florence, Italy.

View from Hitler's Eagle Nest. Obersalzberg, nestled between Germany and Austria. They blasted a vertical tunnel right through the mountain and built a brass elevator that goes 400 feet all the way to to top, where they built a house. They presented it to Hitler for his 50th birthday. Unfortunately, their Führer was not much a fan of heights, didn't like it much, and rarely ever went back.

El Mercat de la Boqueria, Barcelona, Spain

I know the description on the sidebar says that I’ll try to shoot more and talk less, but I’ve been talking a lot. Well at least I said ‘attempt’ to shoot more and talk less.

Can’t really edit photos proper so these photos are mostly untouched, just resized using GIMP, which really isn’t all too bad and I should be grateful I can even use, though the process of opening and resizing one photo is inefficiently taking more than a minute per shot.

This is the popular and rather famous (by its sheer convenient location on the Ramblas stretch) La Boqueria Market in Barcelona. It was probably our favourite place in Barca because Junhua and I were there every day.

Bought a kilo worth of cherries and indulged on them while nua-ing in Park Guell! Must say Italian cherries are sweeter though. Or maybe it’s because we bought the cheap ones…

Expensive ones.

I love fresh squeezed juice!

Good looking and ridiculously expensive chocolate. Average price was 6.90EURO per 100grams. Crazy much. We didn’t buy any.

But of course if you’re a Japanese tourist you can afford anything.

Fresh food section.

Live crabs.

And the last picture is a little gross so I’m sorry if anyone gets nightmares of dead sheep afterwards.

(Chinese readers should be okay since we can’t comment because half the things we eat is also makes it to the gross list of most angmohs.)

Oh yea, if anyone noticed any difference in the photos (ie. you were thinking is it just me or do they look better than usual, they look sharper, the bokeh is nicer, etc), it’s because they were shot with the Tamron 17-50mm f/2.8. I have officially given up on my kit lens and if anyone wants to buy it from me when I come back do tell me. It has offered me good range for the past 15 months or so but there is far more it cannot offer me, so it’s time to part ways dear friend.

Don’t know if I’m going to expand anymore because Canon is making me lust after the 5D MkII and even the counterpart to the D90, the Canon 550D has way better video quality than the jellied mesh produced by the Nikon D90. But if I do… a 70-200mm and an 85mm prime would be nice… (Just dreaming…)

Geneva and the Red Cross Museum.

Okay, in case anyone who reads my blog hasn’t noticed my grief on Twitter, Facebook and MSN, it is true. The MacBook Pro died. I don’t know which part of it died or if my hard disk is salvageable because 1) my AppleCare has expired and if I bring it to an Apple service centre here they’re going to charge me by the hour 2) the nearest AppleCare center is in Zurich which is 3hours away by train 3) forget it.

The good news is that I save all my photos on my external 1TB HDD. The bad news is that I didn’t back up my portfolio and it’s all still in the mac, including all my working files and hi-res copies of anything I’ve been working on in the past one year. And also I think Chandu and the stills from Chandu are in there as well. Sighs. Will only be able to send macmac to see a doctor when I get back to Singapore. In the meantime, life for me has come to an almost complete standstill. Can’t do work, and squinting at this tiny 10 inch screen (my asus eee pc, also known as The Not Mac) is driving me crazy. I can’t even stream videos or open too many tabs without this little guy whirring his fan off.

Bah.

Well. Moving on with the entry…

I flew back from Amsterdam to Geneva. Normally we leave from Milan Malpensa but it was a little bit cheaper to come back in through Geneva and I’d never been there anyway. I didn’t get to do the visitor tour of the United Nations because of my train schedule. But I did spend a good few hours at the Red Cross museum.

Here’s a picture of the main entrance to the UN anyway…

And a giant broken chair structure outside the UN that I’m sure has some symbolic significance or another…

Red Cross Museum. It was a really nice chronological journey of the Red Cross’ history. Honestly I never knew that the Red Cross originated from Switzerland and that the emblem was precisely intended to be the inversion of the Swiss flag. While the main exhibit was good and full of videos of the Red Cross’ work through the past decades, what impacted me the most wasn’t the main exhibit, but the temporary exhibit on Humanity in War – Frontline Photography since 1860.

There are some occasions where I am reminded why I am here, who we are as human beings and what our priorities should be, and this was one of them. There were many such ‘moments’ on this trip, having been to the Anne Frank House, Dutch Resistance Museum and Jewish Theatre in Amsterdam. And looking at the work of the Red Cross just really confirmed to me how fragile and silly humanity is. If not for the wars we ourselves rage, the Red Cross would not even have been born in the first place. And looking at the codes of honor in war before modern warfare, those codes were so much more honorable than even the current Geneva convention. Going past rows of photos, watching the videos of photographers who are unable to even put words to their work, you would have to be truly heartless or amazingly self-centred to not be able to give a damn.

Most of us are the second. Much of what I’ve learned lately is seared in my mind. I find it hard to articulate these days, perhaps from not having used English much over the past half a year. Writing during examinations and struggling to express myself as I blog is testament to that. But also maybe because I don’t feel like my words can make anyone who reads them understand precisely what my eyes have seen and my heart has felt. An experience is an experience, it is my own and it is personal. I cannot make you see through my eyes what the world looks like to me right now. And even if you were there with me physically, what it means to you may be completely different from what it means to me.

Eyes see only so much, and we choose our own interpretations of the world even when given the same field of sight. Perhaps in personal dialogue I will perform better, so feel free to converse with me if you’re up for a little reflection. But for now, I will remain reminded of my place in this world. If I can’t make it a little better, the least I can do is not make it any worse.

I ended up buying the book (54CHF) of the exhibition, and a short DVD (10CHF).

This is my favourite quote from the book (which is primarily pictures):

“The ICRC is not neutral, the ICRC is not impartial. We are partial, absolutely partial, we are always taking the same side, we are taking the side of the victims and we will always do so, because they are in need.”
Jean Hoefliger, ICRC head of delegation in Lebanon, 1977.

As a Singaporean, I have always taken the concept of the ‘Red Cross’ for granted. After all it was just a CCA in secondary school. We’d never gone to war in our time or had any disasters or crises on our shores. Even the plight of our neighbouring countries were just distant pictures on the front page of newspapers that sat in two-dimension on our tables as we sipped our coffee in the morning and muttered about the failing state of our planet.

Yet as I slowly took in the exhibits, it really began to dawn on me how silently important the Red Cross is, and how important the Red Cross is to individuals, not just people or hoards or masses or crowds, but to individuals.

We all know that you must have been busy doing more important things, and that was the only reason why you did not come to see us. We are not selfish, even though you and your team are our only window, let us say. You alone make it possible for us to breathe.

I would like to apologize for having misjudged you. It is only now that I have learnt what your position in the ICRC really is. Let me, by way of apology, tell you a little story:

A and B are standing together at the seaside. A says the sea is huge. Then he looks up at the sky and says that it is enormous. B thinks that A is mad or, perhaps, that he has never before seen either the sea or the sky. Something like that has happened to me. When I was a free man, perhaps I was as unseeing as B. But now that I am no longer at liberty, perhaps I have drawn a little closer to A’s way of thinking.

You may be certain that we will always wish to see you. Windows are so very important. And for those who have only one window, they are much more than that even.

Letter to ICRC delegate from an internee held in the US facility at Guantanamo, 2008.

There is so much work that the Red Cross does that I never even began to know about. When the newspaper reports have faded and the world has forgotten, who is it that stays, who are the ones left behind to try and salvage the broken lives left behind in the wake of disaster? Yes, in many ways the UN and the Red Cross are powerless to do big things. We smear them with our accusations, a convenient scapegoat when we see inaction. But we never even get to hear the stories of the little things. Of the prison visits to those whose sanity and hope hinge on the infrequent visits of the ICRC delegates. Those who live on the forgotten fringes of society that we ourselves have never considered. We batter them with words, the same way those that they visit often do the same in their own frustration.

It is a thankless job, but they are not there for the praise. What they do is worth more than just our admiration. What they do requires more strength and courage than most of us could ever muster in our comfortable lives. They are not out to change the world, but to make the suffering of individuals just a little more tolerable. To share the burden of humanity, no matter how little, just a little easier to bear.

And so. Maybe I did manage to articulate a little bit of my own thoughts on the experience. Just a little.

I will end this with another quote from James Nachtwey, who wrote the introduction to the book. Another reminder on the role of the photographer. When I feel that photography has lost it’s value, this reminds me why the role of the photojournalist continues to be important for a very human reason.

“Photographs are not cold documents that merely prove something happened. They put a human face on events that might otherwise appear to be abstract or ideological, a matter of statistics or monumental in their global impact. No matter how overwhelming an event, what happens to people at ground level happens to them individually, and photography has a unique ability to portray events from their point of view. Photography gives a voice to the voiceless. It’s a call to action.”

More Dutch adventures… expensive Asian food and other yummy things.

Done with my first exam in Switzerland. My head hurts so much from the lack of academic stimulation over the past few months… I say academic and not intellectual stimulation, because there is a big chasm between two. Intellectual stimulation is enjoyable. Academic is largely regurgitation, even here. 3 more papers to go, one this Friday and 2 more in the last week of June after I come back from Barcelona (yes I’m off to Barca next Monday, envy me).

Okay… I have to drop the word ‘design’ from this entry because it’s finally about my favourite topic and the main staple of this blog before I came to Switzerland… FOOD glorious FOOD.

I finally caved in to my need to eat REAL Chinese food after 4 months (fried rice and eating instant noodles doesn’t count). So Walts and I scouted out some good Chinese food while we were in Rotterdam.

The Netherlands in general has loads of food of many diverse origins because of it’s colonial history. Loads of Indonesian, Thai, and of course, Chinese food everywhere.

Walts was buying a Crumpler camera bag so we asked the guy where we could get some authentic Chinese food, cause we’d been away from home for months and really wanted The Real Deal. He directed us a couple of streets down to the Chinatown-ish area where there were loads of Asian eateries… and his recommended place, which was famous among the local Dutch and Chinese populations alike: De Lange Muur.

It was really like a Hong Kong 餐厅; very very busy, Canto speaking staff, very loud conversations and a lot of Chinese people… Which I didn’t really mind, for once. We did hesitate quite a bit before going in though, because Asian food in Europe is RIDICULOUSLY expensive even with the good exchange rate at the moment. (When you have to fork out 12 euros for a plate of kang kong, you definitely do a double take.)

But our Chinese taste buds won the argument, and after wandering down the street and realizing prices weren’t going to get any cheaper, we decided that if we were going to blow a lot of money eating Asian food, we were better off spending it on the good stuff.

Walts examining the menu cause Liz can’t read it. They automatically gave us the Chinese text menu because we were Asian. The Dutchies get a picture book version with pictures of the various dishes and descriptions in Dutch. Lol.

Har Gao! Siew Mai! I  miss dim sum DEARLY. I already told Jem Oh that when I return to Singapore I demand another dim sum & durian outing to Geylang ASAP. I think one of it was €3.80 and the other €4.20. And the money I had with me was changed at around 1.85, so go figure how much in SGD that cost.

Walt and I going trigger happy and getting weird stares. That stupid boy started nose bleeding as we were queuing up to get a seat. Then when we started eating he started bleeding even more. There was so much blood everywhere I think only the sheer fact of what food was in front of me stopped me from losing my appetite. I don’t know why all these things always happen to him when I’m eating with him. I still vividly remember the day he fainted in front of me after dinner at Plaza Sing sometime in December 2009.

Beef kuay teow. Not the way we do it in Singapore, but this was still omgood. The ‘chup’ was very nice. Plus all the chili (the kind that’s drowning in chili oil). Heaven. This was €10. Ha. Yes. Take that. For beef kuay teow! But it’s not as ridiculous as the €15 laksa we saw in Amsterdam a few days later.

Soooo.. the food was so awesomely satisfying, that even though we were spending an average of SGD$20 on food we could get at a third of the price back home, we went back there again the next evening.

Mixed veggies. This cost €13.50, I kid you not. But the portion was gianormous! In fact the portion of all the food there was gianormous. And this came with a big pot of rice that Walts had to finish most of because we also ordered duck chao mian.

I think this was €11 or €12.

And xiao long bao. €4.80.

Their portions are HUGE. Only the Chinese can finish this much food. It was funny to observe how all the Chinese patrons really wolfed everything down or at least tar pao-ed their leftovers, and all the Dutchies would be stuck at their tables having eaten less than half of the food, then throw everything else away. Walts and I had to painfully watch copious amounts of glorious Chinese food being swept off the table by waiters.

Second night’s bill was higher than the first. And I was stuffed up to my nostrils. But boy was it a very happy two evenings of indulgences. Much better than the Thai restaurant we ended up in on our first night in Amsterdam, where Walts ordered Thai Green Curry that was 99% coconut milk. And the €5 tom yam soup that I shared with him that was about the size of two Chinese tea cups. Pfft.

There are really a lot of Chinese in Amsterdam. It was funny to see all these:

Chinese road sign.

Chinese temple.

Chinese shop selling all sorts of rice cookers.

And this area is just on the next street from the Red Light District, which wasn’t all that interesting the day we went. (Our hostel, which is a Christian hostel, was funnily in between these two streets.) Someone told me that the prostitutes on display were as hot as models, but that day I only saw a few girls on display and they were either flabby or saggy, so no further comments about the Red Light District if any of you want to ask me ‘So How Was Amsterdam’s Famous RLD??’. And if you want to ask me whether I smoked pot, the obvious answer is: No.

Anyway I digress. Going back to food, Walts and I of course also had to try the famous Vlaamse Frites… supposedly the Dutchies eat it with heaps of mayo, but I don’t like mayo. So we tried this one with their definition of ‘curry sauce’.

Let’s just say it didn’t taste anything like our definition of curry sauce. And it was super salty.

From another stall in Amsterdam. This one was supposed ‘sambal olek’. The guy warned us when we ordered it that was ‘very spicy’. We gamely grinned and told him we could handle it and asked for more. He originally only gave me a tiny dollop the size of a 50 cent coin. There was nothing I have yet tried in Europe that can compare to the way we Singaporeans eat spice.

Our verdict? Salty. I’m quite convinced the Dutch like everything salty. And it was barely spicy and only very vaguely ‘sambal olek’. But the fries were nice. These are about the cheapest eats you can get off the streets, averaging €2 onwards.

I also had a really good muffin. €2.50 from a sandwich place. One thing I must say about the Dutch is that they make DAMN GOOD sandwiches. Which makes Lizzy happy because Lizzy likes sandwiches. And it also made her very depressed the first day she re-entered Switzerland and tried to buy sandwiches off the supermarket shelf, which were pathetic slices of bread with miserable single slices of cheese or ham for more than 4CHF.

But oh well. Muffins.

Om nom nom.

Chocolate mint muffin the day I went on my bike tour.

Went back there with Walts some days later and this is a cherry chocolate one. :] :]

And finally, on my last day in Amsterdam I tried something from Burger Meester. I first read about it on GoAmsterdam while researching before my trip but never really thought about making a point to find the place. But it turned out that they had a few branches and there was one on the way to the Dutch Resistance Museum and opposite the Artis Zoo. (I was heading for the Museum, not the Zoo, though I would like to go there if I get to go back to Amsterdam.)

So after my 4 hours in the not-particularly-large museum (which I thoroughly enjoyed. One of the perks of traveling alone is that I can spend as long as I want gazing at museum exhibits.), I decided to try this famed burger. I ordered a mini duck burger for €3.50.

And boy was it made for messy eating! The bun was so soft it was breaking apart because of all the meat juices and sauces. The sauce, cheese and meat was spilling out all over because the fillings were bigger than the bun. But it was a really enjoyable little burger while it lasted. The duck was lightly seared and slightly undercooked, which I liked anyhow since I’m a medium-rare sort. Yums.

And that’s almost the end of this little Dutch holiday series, probably one more entry to wrap up my day spent in the Red Cross Museum in Geneva and to talk about all the stuff I got on this trip. This was really the most ‘holiday’ trip for me so far. No rushing around cheonging museums and trying to get 1000 done in one day like we did in Italy. Very relaxing, very enjoyable, and I spent most of my money enjoying food, museums, buying books and postcards.

Think I’m finally settling into the Ways of Chill as they do it here. Europeans really know how to relax and enjoy life. My first couple of months in Switzerland I was permanently restless and edgy because a workaholic like me really couldn’t understand the concept of having NOTHING to do. But I’m finally starting to learn how to relax. :] Shall enjoy the remaining months of it before it’s back to crazy-can’t-stop-working Singapore again.

Okay. Time to study for one more paper on Friday. Then off to Barcelona on Monday!

The Dutch design pilgrimage (Day 3-5)… and a note on pantaloons.

This entry is (mostly) about the 2010 European Design Conference which was held in Rotterdam from 28 to 30 May. But also a little bit about these pyjama genie pants that’s all the rage here during summer.

They generally look like this:

I used to think they were funny whenever I saw anyone wearing them in Singapore, because they kinda remind me of pyjamas and were therefore such silly things to be wearing out of the house. But now that the temperature in Lugano is on par with Singapore, everyone everywhere in Europe seems to be donning these flappy pantaloons. (It’s way too hot for jeans and anything with sleeves now.) I bought myself a pair from H&M some weeks back and let me tell you, these things are AMAZINGLY COMFORTABLE. Why don’t people wear them more in Singapore??? (Because they look like pyjama pants, stupid.)

I love wearing them and am so definitely getting a few more pairs for home. They are a nice alternative to berms and shorts (which is all I wear in Singapore, anyway). And also since I never wear jeans in Singapore (unless I’ve been told to). Too hot too hot!

Okay I digress. Back to the conference.

There were 15 speakers in total, so I won’t go through each individually but I’ll talk about the ones that inspired me the most. Then I’ll give my overall thoughts on the conference at the end.

Reza Abedini (Iran/Netherlands)

One of my two favourites from the conference. His work with the study of arabic typography is groundbreaking stuff.
The most memorable quote for me from the conference also came from him. During the Q&A when someone asked him why he didn’t really work with roman typography and whether he would like to work with roman type, his reply was something like this:
‘You Dutch (or Western, something to that effect) people already do it so well, why would I want to compete with you doing something you have already perfected?’

As one of the very few Chinese Asians (I think the grand total was 3) there, this was a line that struck me deeply and will definitely influence my future work. I never stop asking myself the question why the Southeast Asian design scene is still so unestablished and what we can do to help strengthen and mature design culture in our region. It’s a cumulation of factors, definitely, but part of it could be accrued to the fact that we spend so much time trying to copy what the West has already perfected, and the results are often lackluster and pale imitations of work that already exists. Even a really good copy is still, at the end of the day, a copy. I really hope to see a unique brand of Singaporean design emerge in the next couple of decades as we mature and develop our own sense of style and culture and not always have to imitate the work of others. Integrate and assimilate into something we can call our own, yes. But not copy.

Zup (Italy)

Because I really liked their presentation, vibes and sense of humour.

Raffinerie (Switzerland)

Because they’re good-looking and Swiss.

Okay. More than that. Because I really like their series of posters for Schauspielhaus Zürich and their awesome cardboard boxes installation at the 2000-Watt-Gesellschaft. Better graphics on their site.

Philippe Apeloig (France)

My other favourite and most admired designer from the conference. His work is just so conceptually strong, tight, clean and poignantly brilliant. And his designed typefaces to suit the personality of each piece he’s executing… admirably awesome work. *kowtows* Snapshots below, but a lot of his work is clearer and well presented on his site, so go look at it…

And there was also the grand-daddy of Dutch design, Gert Dumbar of Studio Dumbar. His work was also really amazing… especially the infographic system for disaster/epidemic relief that he’s working on now that he kindly requested we not publish online.

Most of the speakers were good, but I didn’t manage to catch photos of everything so these are just some of the ones I did.

It’s hard for me to describe all that I’ve learned from my 168 euro investment just to attend this conference.

Of the conference itself, I must say as a first experience I was slightly disappointed by the turn-out. I guess in my mind I had expected more, especially after attending the Design Society’s Forum in Singapore in January.

However, it was a great, GREAT learning experience for me, just sitting there taking it all in, listening to the speakers and to the types of questions being thrown about during Q&A. Just from the questions alone the difference between the design scene back home and here is clearly evident. It enlightened me to just how mature and established the Dutch design scene is. I am envious of how fortunate they are to have a very supportive government and private sector, who trust and often give their designers great autonomy in their work. Many crazy and exciting ideas can be done, the government supports experimental work, and the study of graphic design there is seen more as respectable profession than I have ever known it to be back home.

There, graphic design is not diluted by advertising. The two professions are clearly defined and well separated. Back home we tend to equate one to another, which was a great cause of my growing disillusion with my craft. (I already don’t believe in advertising, but I was starting to despair about design.)

However, after this entire trip, wandering Amsterdam and Rotterdam and laying my eyes upon beautiful works of design, my strength is renewed. I again begin to believe that good design can and will, change the world. It’s difficult to expound on, but some of my closer friends have heard me try to explain, and I hope they see at least a little of how I’ve seen it. Everything I have learned is firmly in my head, the vision burning behind my eyes, and the cause firmly planted in my heart.

I have learned so much about myself and my craft this trip, and not just this trip, but this entire experience in Europe for the past few months. Coming to Europe has definitely been the greatest turning-point in my life yet. It has built the foundations for my future, directions for where I want to go as a person, as a designer and as a believer in how the role of design is to communicate.

Initially I really felt as though I was wasting my time here. I like Lugano, and USI, but doing PR and marketing courses are really not my life’s passion. Here I was in Switzerland, the land of grids and Helvetica with so many good design universities to it’s name, and I was doing PR and marketing courses.

But God always causes all things to work out for my good, and it turned out that the way the courses were structured gave me oodles of free time to pursue personal projects, to work on my own craft and to have time to reflect and grow not just in technical skills, but learn more about what it takes to be a professional designer and not merely someone who can use Adobe software. I’m still growing, ever growing. My motto remains that: the day I think I’m good is the day I stop learning, and is therefore the day I fail.

This is why I often seem to be very harsh on myself, but I want to continue to learn and grow, keep learning, and learning, and keep getting better and better at what I do. I will never be the best. And I will never be ‘good enough’, because the race will never end. But I will be the best Lizzy that I can be, the best designer that Lizzy at whatever point in time of her life can be, and once that moment passes, the next ‘best’ awaits.

Things are moving for me at the moment, I’ll talk more about it if and when it actually happens.

Doors are opening, and God will lead me to the right ones. Now the next pressing task is to find an internship for next year. Self-sourcing will not be easy, but the same way God made all things work out for my good by causing circumstances to allow me to come to Switzerland, the same way God will provide the needed time and chance for me to do an overseas, graphic design internship for Spring 2011. Amen, amen and amen.

The Dutch design pilgrimage (Day 2)

So we move on to Day 2 of the Dutch holiday. You can read about Day 1 here.

Day 2 in Amsterdam was not about design. It was about attempting suicide by the sheer act of being an incompetent cyclist attempting to navigate the roads of Amsterdam.

Funky bike in Amsterdam. No they don’t all look like this.

This is Mike’s Bike, where I went for the ride of my life. I have decided that I’m never riding on the road again for a long, long time to come. Especially not in Amsterdam. The main reason I’d gone was because I met some nice Aussie girls in my hostel room doing a major backpacking trip in Europe, and they were going for this tour. I wouldn’t have considered it otherwise.

Nice Aussies. Nikki and Jade.

This is Pete (I think). He was our guide for the tour and here are some of the rest of the 11 confident people who weren’t as godawful at pedaling a bicycle as I was. The guy with the striped adidas jacket I pity the most, because he was asked to be the last rider. And you know what that means with a joker like me having to ride in front of him and his wife. I apologized profusely to him at the end and while he said it was alright, his eyes totally said ‘I’m glad you realize how terrible a cyclist you are’.

I don’t have a great deal of pictures of the LOVELY Dutch landscape we cycled through because I was more focused on staying alive and not causing unnecessary accidents. Just to emphasize how bad I was on the road, 5 minutes into the tour Pete came up to me and asked me if I could cycle faster, because he needed to get back by 3pm for his next tour.

I was pretty much praying in tongues during the entire time we were riding in the city. The country-scape was alright because there wasn’t much traffic and I just had to focus on not cycling into any of the rest of the group. The city bits were awful. I had so many near misses with other bikes and cars and I got sworn at so many times in a language I (fortunately) don’t undersand.

Here’s me looking terribly relieved to have survived the first part and safely end up in the ‘countryside’.

And a group shot at a touristy windmill (that thing is really just there for touristic purposes) in the bleak and fickle Dutch weather that goes from freezing cold wind/rain to sunshine any time it wants.

Passed many lovely houses on the way, none of which I have photographic evidence of.

Okay except maybe this when we stopped briefly for Pete to talk. Then we visited a cheese factory owned by a very cheekopek man who kept targeting me.

Passing around the cheese… aka demonstrating the power of this particular cheese shredder he was selling in his touristic little shop.

Said cheekopek in question demanding a photo halfway through his presentation.

In addition to cheese he also had a clog machine to make those famous Dutch wooden clogs.

And some of the lovely cheese that I really enjoyed but wasn’t about to fork out 8 euros for. Mmm. But Dutch farmer cheese (that is only produced and sold locally) is really awesome.

Here’s my bike (green!).

And I had to take a picture with Pete who congratulated me for coming back alive and having not killed myself or anyone else with my embarrassing cycling skills by giving me.. believe it or not, a Mike’s Bike condom (why do they even have these???).

I politely told him I didn’t need it but took it as a souvenir anyway. And that pretty much summed up my second day in Amsterdam, which I finished off with a generous kebab and some Dutch snacks before heading to Rotterdam for the night.

Speaking of Dutch snacks, I really used to hate marzipan. But the Dutch sell these RIDICULOUSLY sweet marzipan bars that were epic sugar-high inducing. It was like. Chocolate covered marzipan wrapped around a squishy marshmallow center. More effective than drinking coffee, I would think. I bought it by accident from Hema (sort of like the Dutch version of Marks&Spencer, do check out their website, it’s hilarious. Try to click on stuff) when I landed in Schiphol airport. Was really hungry and the packaging looked normal enough. Orangey marzipan half dipped in chocolate looked to me like harmless chocolate covered mini bread buns. But the first bite shot right through my veins and slammed my head really hard. My pupils probably dilated the moment the marshmallow exploded in my mouth and the sensation of utter, complete, indescribable sweetness sent warning signals from my mouth right to my toes. Yes, in short, it was damn sweet can? To my own incomprehension I actually liked it. Or maybe I was really THAT hungry.

Okay. End of entry for now, more on the conference later tonight or tomorrow. I have to study now.

The Dutch design pilgrimage (Day 1)

So I’m back from my biggest trip of this semester. I hadn’t realized it was so long till I was there. Two days in Amsterdam, three in Rotterdam and another two in Amsterdam to round it off. Plus half a day in Geneva on my way back to Lugano. Boy did it feel long, especially towards the end. I thought I would never get back after camping 12 hours in Schiphol airport, taking a plane and 2 train rides (approx. 5 hours) across the Swiss landscape lugging more than 20kilos on my shoulders.

Exhausted, but feel like I’ve grown and learned so much on this pilgrimage of sorts. Right now it’s still difficult to put into words everything that is imprinted firmly in my head, I’m not sure if I will actually succeed in verbalizing what I’ve experienced, but I will try.

This is the first in a series of self-reflective entries about the trip. Each part of it was a different sort of learning journey for me as an individual and as a creative, so they deserve the attention.

Walter was with me for about 4 days, the 3 in Rotterdam and 1 in Amsterdam. I think he thinks I’m a very sad person, I don’t know why. Contemplative, reflective, more so than usual, but I’m now ready to reconcile with myself and push forward with walking down this path.

I return with a renewed sense of strength to pursue my craft, with an understanding of the maturity of Europe’s design culture that is so gapingly absent back home. Now my thoughts are, how do I bring these things that I have learned and apply them back home? The Dutch are really fortunate in how supportive the private and public sectors are of good design.

I used to think that Swiss design was good, then I went to Holland, and now that I’m back in Swiss things are starting to feel ugly. I know I’m going to encounter even more grief once I return to Singapore. But truly I was hard-pressed to find bad graphic design in Amsterdam and Rotterdam. The government really supports the design community, and in turn the design community is allowed to experiment and grow so much as designers that they have reached a comfortable sort of pinnacle in terms of their work.

Of course with some entrenched ‘schools of thought’ in that circle, designs sometime become stifling and predictable, but still very strong and largely, admirably brilliant. I must not despair. (Though I did, in the immediate aftermath of the conference.)

I will bring my work to a higher level, and I will bring it back home with me. I will live to see the day that the Southeast Asian design community is strengthened through collaborations and unique work that is excellent but definitively ours, one that will be distinct from the European schools of thought but still equally brilliant.

Okay! Design stuff later, but since I like chronology, we’ll start with my first evening as an introduction to Amsterdam.

Day One

Okay, yes Amsterdam has lots of canals and pretty houses. But those pictures above were more of my general first impression of the place (after the copious presence of bikes, read on to find out. City-wise I felt very comfortable there. Maybe because I was finally somewhere I could speak English and be understood. It took me a while to readjust to saying ‘Hi’ and ‘Thank you’ instead of ‘Bonjourno’ and ‘Grazie’.

And maybe also because Amsterdam has very diverse ethnicity, sort of like Singapore. But whatever it was, it didn’t take me long to feel pretty comfortable there. The whole place is actually pretty small and walkable. By my last day there I didn’t really need a map to navigate around.

On my first evening (was past 7pm by the time I got to my hostel) I went for Art Amsterdam. Now, I wasn’t really sure what I was expecting, but what I did encounter was a little bit of a surprise. It was essentially an exhibit of exhibits, of various galleries exhibiting and trying to sell their 4-digit priced pieces to rich people sipping champagne. It felt somewhat like a display of modern day bourgeoisie. Eager artists and sellers trying to pawn their goods and sidle up into the good books of people with lots of time and money to throw around. (But hey in the context of it I’m just a lowly uneducated peasant, so what do I know. )

On the way to the exhibition hall my bus passed this van, which I just managed to get a snapshot of.

I realize you can’t really read the words but it says ‘Art doesn’t give answers, only questions’. Little did I realize what a premonition this was for my experience at Art Amsterdam (I paid 10 euros to walk around for little over an hour. And that’s student price mind you, it’s 20 euros a pop).

If art asks the questions, then I suppose design hold the answers. I have heard, been told and totally agree with the statement that design isn’t art. Design has a function. Art, well, it’s subjective there. But I guess after going for this exhibition I must say that the converse holds true. Art is definitely NOT design. I’ve always had an issue with post-modern art. Most of the stuff in London’s Tate Museum flies over my head. And most of the stuff at Art Amsterdam I likewise, could not appreciate.

But I did catch some photographs of the things that I did like better, even if I didn’t understand it.

This concept I quite like.

This one was grossly freaky.

Part of the ‘I don’t understand’ collection.

This apparently is also ‘art’. (o rly)

So that was Art Amsterdam for you. No other opinion apart from how out of place I felt at that rather ‘chi-chi’ event.

More about Day 2 later when I get up, where I nearly die every 10 seconds attempting to ride a bike on the streets of Amsterdam (which can also be referred to as the day I got sworn at the most in the life).

Amsterdam is a bike friendly city, which is a nice way of saying that almost everyone here bikes, cars and bikes travel at almost the same speed: fast, and everyone has to share that same little bit of road and you have to look both ways all the time because bikes/pedestrians/tourists come from EVERYWHERE and ANYWHERE. It is shit scary. I have no better way to describe it.

But just to whet your appetite and give you a small sense of how it is, here’s the bike parking space outside the central train station. It was the very, very first thing I saw of Amsterdam and I literally LOL-ed as I walked out of the station and gazed upon this amazing spectacle.

Get ready to be blown away, though the pictures really do it no justice.

From across the road.

As you approach…

Masses and masses and masses of bikes.

How you locate your own is a marvel. How you manage to get a spot in that place is the second marvel.

And you know what’s the best part? The bike park ain’t enough, seriously. The bikes overflow and spill all over the outside as well.

Truly one heck of an amazing sight!!! (Yes I think it deserves 3 exclamation marks.)

So I’ll update more in a bit. Right now though I realize I have two exams to study for before my next trip to Spain on the 14th. One on Tues and the other on Friday. Let me attempt to remember what this ‘studying’ thing is. It has been so long and under normal circumstances I would be panicking just about now that I haven’t, at all, started studying.

But circumstances here are different.
So catch you guys in a few hours.

A Saturday in Lugano.

It was 26 degrees today and I was melting in my room. I have no fans or airconditioning here so it gets kind of stifling.

But that’s the trade off for awesomely lovely weather.

So anyway. Here’s the breakdown of a nice, lazy summerish Saturday here to make everyone back home jealous.

Went to Ponte Tresa (across the border in Italy, a 20 minute train ride away from Lugano) with Jun Hua in the morning. That place brings ‘nua’ to a whole new level.

In the afternoon, pedaling on the lake with USIHome friends.

In the evening, off to the free open-air concert in the city centre with average to poor music [local bands], lots and lots of troublesome teenagers, and people whom you might actually like to be friends with had they been sober (but were unfortunately, not). It wasn’t particularly enjoyable but it seemed like the whole of under 30 Lugano had decided to be there that night.

So now the pictures will do the talking.

Really love the sweet stuff here.

Super duper idyllic and quiet.

Spotted on the way back to our building from the train station.

Im on a boaaaaaaaaaaaat. Well.. almost.

A view of Lugano you can get only by being out on the water.

Nua.

Nua some more.

Group shot!

Concert at night.

A Day By The Lake

Jun Hua and I celebrated our last day of school by nua-ing by the lake on the green, green grass in the beautiful park… people watching (seems to be their favourite past time here) and enjoying very good vanilla cream pastry. Mmmmmmmmm.

Soooooooooooooooo goooooooooooooooooooooooooooood……….

(Last but not least me having a very bad hair day.)