Schooldays

As we progress into the final month of 2015, a new milestone is reached. No, not that I have matured past my fourth zodiac cycle. Rather, both J and M reached new heights in their school life. 

He just concluded his final A-level papers, which officially marked the conclusion of his compulsory public schooling. From now on, every academic endeavor would be a specific choice he makes. Indeed, from hereon, every move he makes (save for serving his nation though military service) will be due to his singular efforts and choice (guided of course by the Holy Spirit).

Speaking of the Holy Spirit, M will get confirmed next Sunday. Now that's a real milestone. Spiritually, she will become an adult. It's only fitting that she's entering this new state of grace with a winning attitude, specifically a gold medal from a softball tournament that took place over the Thanksgiving holidays organized by the Singapore American School. When I congratulated her, like the adult she is becoming, she replied, "it's the team". Yes, she did hit a home run (and earned the team two runs, significant as they won by a point!); so this response from her was all the more gracious. Readers of this blog will recall an old post I wrote about her learning all about winning and more importantly, losing, together with her team. She has learned and grown so much. And that's the real victory. In life.

They are the products one one wonderful upbringing: specially brought to bear by their mum.

So, as I enter my 7-squared year, despite an uneven unexpected year of growth (in the business), I feel fine. At the core of it, I think it's because everything is well at home. Taken care of. So, I have stability deep down inside. It's really true what they say about "behind every great man ...". In fact, this year, I learned quite a bit about work. It's amazing what a simple reverse can do to accelerate learning, especially when one is standing on a solid foundation.

Which brings me back to the title of this blog: schooldays. Just last month, my primary/secondary schoolmates found me in a WhatsApp group chat. And yes, boys will be boys. Everyone is just as we were, plus 30, 40 years. I am sure many years from now, J and M will also get reconnected (joyfully, I might add) with their friends with whom they have shared and are continuing to share so many wonderful memories together. As Dr Seuss once said, "sometimes you never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory".

As for D, she knows:

"me" time

It's 8:38am. I am here in the Sala Miro, the lounge in Barcelona airport. By the time the flight leaves (if it's on time), I would have spent exactly 36 hours in one of these favorite cities of mine, all by myself.

Hence the title to this blog. For most of the last 20 years, whenever I had a moment, it was typically spend at work, or with the family, and friends and of course the church. There is hardly an extended number of hours (save for sleeping) that I am spending mainly just doing what I like to be doing.

Yesterday I did just that. After a typically Western breakfast with scrambled eggs and bacon, washed down with yogurt, I ambled along the Avinguda Diagonal into a flea market and then made my way to The Watch Gallery to pick up some purchases I have ordered before hand. One is a serious buy. The other two more whimsical but nonetheless are odes to my sense of design, like this Seven Friday (designed in Switzerland but with Japanese movement). And to complete the global supply chain, it's retailed in Barcelona by an half Englishwoman to a Malaysian on his way to Singapore. 

This global ecosystem was much in evidence as I concluded the day as well, watching the El Classico, the match between Barcelona and Real Madrid football clubs. The game was played in the Bernabeau, Real Madrid's home, so I didn't watch it in situ but rather in an Irish Pub next to Placa Reail, with some Arab-looking Israelis and lots of English and Australians, of course. 

Good that Barcelona won, 4-0 at that, and the mood was a jolly one. This match is made all the more memorable since I visited the Nou Camp just the hours before. Appropriately, though I should add, that is found the Manchester United tour 6 years ago more meaningful. It's not just because of Munich crash adding poignancy, or the Busby babes showing resilience; it's because that was a guided tour (not just an audio guide) and we got to enter the inner sanctum (whereas we were disallowed into the FCB one on the rationale that it is the players' private place). I didn't mind because deep down the ManU fan in me did want Old Trafford to stand out and remain special.

Of course I found time to eat a good lunch, at a restaurant at the base of Mt Tibidabo and then dinner at Gothic quarters near La Ramblas. Speaking of this famous street, it's lost some of it's appeal. The stalls that used to line the street and peddle unique wares are now surely replaced by homogenous stores manned by Indians selling China-made souvenirs of the city. Gone too are the buskers and performers. 

But apart from La Ramblas, the charm of this beautiful city remains. Nice walks (I must have walked nearly 10km yesterday, some of it in the many parks that dot the city) facilitated by Google Maps and great food (recommended by foodie friends) are the highlights the past 36 hours.

I must admit though that with Google Maps, I didn't once get lost but walking has lost some of it's charms. When I used to travel alone all those years ago, my wanderings would take me into forests and small pathways but I never quite felt lost. I was too engrossed with all the new things I am sensing.  Yes, I did stop and take a few photos of whatever caught my eye (a little David-sequence statue with grapes instead of a slingshot for instance), but for the most part walking was about navigating from Pt A to Pt B, and all other points got lost :-(

While the joys of walking have been diminished, the joys of eating and drinking have been significantly increased. From tapas to smoked ham to the softest pork I have tasted in a while, cuisine esp here in old Europe remains one of the best in the world. 

I had inadvertently even recorded it for posterity when my conversation with the waiter at La Venta was accidentally recorded and dispatched to my High School mates with whom I had recently reconnected with via WhatsApp. Boys really don't change at all. We are all just older and larger versions of whomever we were 40 years ago. 

So, I wasn't quite alone being always in the company of various sorts of people, even virtually. 

Still, at each turn, at every fine morsel of food I chew, at every sight that caught my eye, I find myself wishing you all were here. So much for "me" time then. 

All history is geography

Some TED talks inform, others intrigue. Few inspire. I saw one the other day. The speaker asks a fundamental question: don't ask me where I am from, ask me where I am local.

Simple profound insight. Countries are man made. Humans, if you believe, are children of God. And if you are not, we are still defined less by our nationality, even where we are born (both my kids were  born in one country but grew up in another and will likely pursue further studies in a third, let alone where they would eventually settle down to work). We are defined less by borders of a nation than by the work ethics of our culture, the values of our parents, the influences of our friends, the teachings of our educators and of course the spirit of our God. 

Who we are are the combined result of many things, of which the nation has only some (limited) bearing. The thing that matters is that the country is the geographies which shape the peoples living on it. The harsher the environment, the tougher the people become in order to survive. The more adventurous amongst these tough people tend to migrate seeking more clement lands. They are then subject to discrimination by the natives. Driven by hunger, and a better life, they are prepared to endure hardship. Those who survive therefore also acquire mental resilience as well.

The Jews are oft-mentioned as being special, not because they were called God's special children but because they have shown themselves capable to overcoming the harshness of their lives and it's this constant learning that made them capable of achieving special things. Amongst all Jews, there is a group called the Ashkenazi Jews who, beyond the centuries of character forming desert wanderings and slaveries, migrated to lands new in Europe and faced yet more persecution. This is the group that produced the likes of Einstein, Rothschild and Golda Meier. The Chinese are similarly mentioned in the same breath, especially the Hakkas. Literally, they are called Guest people, because like the Ashkenazis they migrated from the inclement northern territories to the south and faced all the usual mistreatment of their hosts. ZhuGeLiang, Sun Yat Sen, Deng XiaoPing and Lee Kuan Yew are all Hakkas. It's almost bred into them to face the harshest challenges, take on the slimmest odds and win. Leadership at a grand scale.

Today, I am in London. Still one of the major capitals of the world and a melting pot filled with migrants from all over the world. Just a century ago it was undoubtedly the centre of the empire, which was then one of the most powerful in the world. I walked past Westminster Abbey to the Parliament and across the Westminster bridge. Constructions aimed at impressing the crowds, to exert ultimate power, of the church and of the government. There is a small square next to the Abbey called Parliament Square. Statues of great men, national leaders like Churchill, Mandela and now Gandhi, stand on its edges. 

It got me thinking. Apart from Mandela and Gandhi, most national leaders from Churchill and Meier to Deng to Lee, they had to make some really tough trade-offs for the greater good of the nation. Imagine Churchill having to order young men and women to certain deaths so the nation could survive. How does one do it?

Do they have a different sort of moral compass? And in the wake of terrorist attacks (most recently the random killings across Paris), one can indeed imagine that there are grounds for taking out the perpetrators. But if you step back, can this really be justified? Can violence on any scale, on any grounds, upon any intent, ever be condoned. For wouldn't it, with man remaining true to it's basal human nature, only cause revenge and perpetuate this cycle; with a new generation of terrorists to wreck more havoc in the world. 

In the final analysis, the answer has been provided to us. Goodwill to all and Peace on earth. How we use our world-hewn talents to enact this is up to us.

Hooligans' Game ...

... played by gentlemen. I know for those who do not understand the game, this oft-used phrase to describe rugby, is somewhat perplexing. After all, it's a game that features team-mates grabbing each other by the crotch and head butting the opponents in a scrum. It's a game that permits bringing down another player who is in full flight by shackling his legs. Players emerge from a game with nicks, scratches, tears and even fractures, often bloodied. And to add to the machismo, in some cases, the play continues even when some player is down and out and receiving treatment on the pitch.

All I can say to these not unfounded notions of the game is to watch one, especially a world class one. Watch the hooker who is right in the middle of the scrum. Watch the scrum half direct the play. Watch the wingers sprint to touch... And most of all watch the fly half who kicks the ball impossibly accurately into goal.

So what is gentlemanly about rugby? Consider these:

- there is no room for feigning, no fake falling in the penalty box for instance, and certainly not for interrupting a move because play can continue 

- to move forward you have to throw the ball backwards (what a deferential thought in sports!), so to advance you need the whole team to move together

- you can't move onto the opponents' side to grab the ball off them, so all 'battles' have to be settled face to face

- some moves are rewarded more than others, therefore ensuring just pay-offs for great effort

- and punishments are real where players are sent off the game either temporarily or permanently

Appeals to the civilized, don't you think? That this game was created in a posh English public (read private) school during a game of football explains a lot already.

Even more poignantly, it's a game that been the great leveler. The winning NZ World Cup team this year had more than the fair share of indigenous Maoris who were born to play this game given their stocky build, and indeed begin every match with a war cry, the Haka. More dramatically, Nelson Mandela used the 1995 WRC finals (hosted in South Africa) shortly after his release and election as President to unite a divided country post decades of cruel apartheid practices.

Though I played the game competitively (as a hooker) in university, I didn't really follow it. I have only watched two matches (on TV) end to end. Both are Rugby World Cup matches. Both featured Australia in the finals, once as host of the 2003 RWC finals and recently in 2015. Both times the Wallabies lost. And both times to a match winning performance produced by the opposing fly half. 

In 2003, Jonny Wilkinson showed the world what fly halfs can do the win the game with their kicking. Appropriately enough, it was his drop goal in injury time that won it for England in 2003.

Dan Carter also won it for the All-Blacks in 2015. He alone scored 19 points, two points more than that scored by the Aussies. The score line may have suggested a one-sided match but it was far from it. Yes, NZ did lead 21-3 right after half time but the Australians fought back (esp when they had a headcount advantage as a player got sin-binned) to 21-17. And then Carter restored the faith. His drop goal pulled NZ ahead by a clear 7 points and in a game as close and as passionate as this, this margin of a try+conversion meant almost victory.

Victory they got. Both match winners were also man-of-the-match. Their names forever remembered in the history of the game. A game that is truly played by real men!

Tragic Talents

It's been one of those weeks where I had to take a flight every day, sometimes two! This week I started in Jakarta, then KL, then Hanoi, then KL again before returning to Singapore. Once a month I have to travel like this. Thankfully most weeks, I will start in KL, head to one other ASEAN city then back to Singapore. Is there any upside to this? 

Well, I get lots of thinking time to myself. That's helpful as I have been strategizing the next strategic act for the business. More meaningfully, a friendly priest told me it's a good time to pray. He's absolutely right of course and I occasionally do say the rosary as I settle on board. All this flying takes a toll, especially when some are at odd hours but I do get a chance to catch 40 winks (typically right upon boarding) and then I'd wake up mid way through the flight. Then I'd while the time away watching whatever is showing on board.

This week I caught an Amy Winehouse documentary. What a talent, and what a wasted life. She had this strange affection, even addiction to men who treated her badly. Her dad, who abandoned her at nine which started her spiral downwards. Her boyfriend Blake who was not only living off her, but also multi-timing her not to mention being her drug fiend.

Photo credit: dailymail.co.uk

She died expectedly at the mysterious age of 27 (as did Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain) from an overdose.

I found it very hard watching the film but yet was totally gripped by her music and lyrics that I couldn't tear away. So much so, it kept playing in my mind that I couldn't fall asleep as I landed in KL. So, I pulled out the laptop and watched a movie, this one starring one of my favourite actor, Al Pacino. He produced, directed and acted in a documentary about a play, written by that wonderful wit Oscar Wilde about the biblical character Salome.

Oscar Wilde remains one of the best playwright/novelist the world has produced. This Irishman was also incredibly clever esp. when commenting (sarcastically) about the human condition. The play Salome combines all of these talents of his and brought well to life by Pacino as Wilde/Herod and Jessica Chastain as Salome. Prophetically, this play preceded his own doomed relationship, having fallen in love with another man, and was incarcerated for this crime against nature. He died shortly after being released from jail, never recovering from the fact that his children were taken away from him and that his Bosie had fallen out of love with him.

Photocredit: Elysium.com

Still in their brief lives, they have illuminated the arts and left behind moments for us to continue to enjoy today. What they could have produced had they lived longer, we'll never know. 

Just last night, the family (minus J who was mugging for his A's) (re)watched Dead Poets Society starring that incomparable Robin Williams. There are just so many lines there that inspire one to greatness, to make one's life extraordinary. I picked this one because many of us are at the point where we are in a position or about to get into a position to write our story.

Photo credit: all-the-news.com

There he was, standing at a different spot so as to see the world a little differently, urging his boys on, as I urge my own brood on: carpe diem. Seize the day!

Watching time

There is only one useful indicator of a man's self-image: his wristwatch. Once that jacket sleeve creeps up, the sole piece of acceptable jewelry beyond a wedding ring reveals the wearer's sense of taste and occasion.

Watch sellers employ a logical Italian dictum: a well-dressed man owns at least three timepieces. The day watch is most important: it is the watch that suits your occupation. If you're in finance, sobriety is all your watch must offer beyond the time. If you work in the media or the arts, you can be more eccentric. If your occupation involves specific tasks—from ambulance driver, to insurance broker, to 747 pilot—then, just as with iPhone apps, "there are watches for that."

For watch No. 2, you have more scope. This is your dress-down timepiece, worn everywhere from the beach to the ski slopes or for pottering around in the garden. Whether a sub-£50 Swatch, or a close-to-unbreakable Rolex, it will mean you don't have to worry about a quick dive in the pool or a round of golf. This is your casual watch.

Last is the dress watch. If you find yourself wearing black tie more than once a year, or if film premieres, opera visits or smart restaurant bookings keep appearing in your diary, your day watch may lack occasion. For this final part of the trilogy, you may go one of two ways: a classical, slim, time-only gold dress watch—or blatant bling. The presence of diamonds on your watch will accomplish this for you.

Where to start? One's first watch is often a gift—anything from a Timex on up—received at graduation, confirmation, first job or Bar Mitzvah. It will never be exactly what you want, but you will wear and cherish it from your teens until your first pay check. Then you will be seduced by TAG Heuer, Omega or Rolex, depending on your budget. It will be your first "real" watch.

Buying well is the key, and it's not as tricky as you might think. As master watchmaker Peter Roberts observed: "There really are no bad watches out there, because they all have to perform the same basic function and perform it well: tell the time. Manufacturing standards are impossibly high. So you should buy according to your budget and your taste."

Ken Kessler wrote the above in the Wall Street Journal back in March 2010 when J was just about experiencing teenhood. Now 5 years later, with many years of the trusty Casio digital watch (the defacto official watch of all schoolboys), he has asked for his first watch. A Luminox watch that tells the time, date and day. It's a military style watch and one eminently suited for a boy finishing college and entering military service. With it's guaranteed luminosity for half a century, I expect it will light his path for a long time to come.