Home is where the heart is

The old heart is not what it used to be. I was informed recently that it has suffered an inferior infarct, unbeknownst to me. In short, i had suffered a silent heart attack.

If the home is where the heart is, then my homefront situation is similarly distressed.  Home should be a place where one can be free, and speak openly without fear or favour, and to find understanding if not acceptance amongst family members. I, for one, have always spoken my mind, freely. With parents, siblings, in-laws and also the younger generation. I mean no malice, just a mature exchange of thoughts. But when this most fundamental tenet is perverted, when words spoken are twisted, the home is no longer a happy place.
In my case, an exchange on contributory factors towards a brighter future for our children on WhatsApp (mistake: this is one of the worst platforms to exchange views) had been misconstrued as a tiff. It then got personal, even physical as one sibling twisted the words of a parent to attack another.

It has made my parents extremely sad but in a way, all of us are at fault. To start with, siblings should never fight over something as small as differing opinions. But then, we are all brought up to be winners, on matters big and small. On the one hand, we fear losing. When we do suffer setbacks as everyone inevitably does, some of us have even learnt to hide these failures and I know of a few bad events that have not been told to our parents because we fear disappointing them and falling out of their favour. On the other hand, achievements are proudly celebrated and more is always expected. Unsurprisingly, some of us even crave the affirmation and rewards that accompany such accomplishments. So, in raising ambitious, competitive children, it is to be expected that these children will one day stumble into one another and then train their winning mentalities against each other.

I have said that for every good thing, there is a bad seed. Conversely, a good seed can be found in every bad thing. This was made most clear in the Malaysian general elections last year. This campaign meme captured it well.


Photo credit: Forum Lowyat

Still, this cycle (within one generation) need not be inevitable. Competitive kids can argue, even fight but this must be within limits. There are three levels. Three P’s: personal, physical, parental.

One, it should not get personal. Admittedly, this is very hard to do, i would say even nearly impossible as the histories of each others and our families are inevitably going to be part of the ammunition in any argument.

Secondly, it should not get physical. This should be easier to ensure. In discussions and debates, we use words. And when things get heated, it is often unavoidable and regrettable that offensive words are used but we need not resort to physical moves. A line must be drawn at self control and restrain, though for some, even this line is crossed.

Finally, it should not get “parental”. This, in my mind, is the ultimate red line. In a fight between two siblings, there is only one force that can possibly still unite them. And this is the parents. The parents are the only thing that is shared, indisputably and lovingly still, one hopes, for the siblings. However,  when a sibling invokes (or twist the words of a) parent to spite another sibling, this is truly breaching all limits of decency.

In the recent case, all three lines were crossed. It is madness that it deteriorated to this stage. It will not be easy to recover from this. Not impossible, though. However, it will take magnanimity and not small mindedness of all involved, including the grandparents, parents, spouses and children. Let’s hope.

PS: I have withdrawn from the WhatsApp group, on grounds that it is a patently unsuitable forum for such matters

M, Mum & me meandering museums, mosques, mausoleums, madrassahs, markets, megalomaniacs, mansions + more.

As a young fearless traveller, I would have a thousand dollars in my pocket, a change of clothes in my backpack and go trekking through Thailand and Indonesia “Lonely Planet style” on my own. Since then, travel is both shorter and more comfortable. Wheeled suitcases and fresh clothes everyday are the way to go. Then business travel became the norm and I would be on a plane every other day and visit new cities like Astana and stay at the best hotels and fly in style.

But when the Great Silk Road adventure beckons, all of these got mixed up. First in the mix is the family. I had planned this trip not only for the magical thrill it promises but also because unlike other places I know the cities on this route are developing really fast and in a decade we will not be able to experience it as it should be. Moreover, it is getting harder to get all of us together for an extended period of time. Even in this 3 and a half weeks itinerary, J could only be with us for the first third. M is heading off to university this October and her schedule will be dictated by Michaelmas, Hillary and Trinity terms, not to mention the summer programmes she would do.

Initially I was even more adventurous and wanted to take the family from Cairo to Capetown. I never quite summoned up the courage. So, for my sabbatical, journeying on the Silk Road from Beijing to Bukhara, seem like the perfect choice.

From east to west, we travelled via vans, trains and planes covering a distance of over 7000kms. In days of old, when caravans travel at night (to navigate via the stars and in cooler conditions) and provided one was not detained at any stops, this journey would have taken at least a year. We did it in three weeks and are now making our way back east again.

Presently, we are flying from Bukhara to Tashkent and from the capital city of Uzbekistan (and erstwhile capital of the unified Central Asian state of Takistan) to Beijing (capital of China and very soon of the world) before landing home this weekend.

There are so many sights, sounds and souls that impressed each of us and no doubt differentially so as well. I can only say what impacted me the most.

1. Heritage sites are best experienced in-Situ and raw
2. The ruins speak better to the ravages of time and of the ambitions and terrors that emperors, khans, emirs and their associates can inflict in order to grow their empires
3. But ultimately, countries are arbitrary and culture is the real common denominator and sadly, selfish cultures often ride roughshod over gentler ones
4. Various means have been employed to manage the people. Chief amongst these are words of prophets, relics of holy men, monuments of heroes
5. Some countries (well, one) went overboard to control the population and visitors in and out of these, with big brother intrusive checks
6. Peace, prosperity and progress are real outcomes to deliver if the population is to be kept loyal (and in check)
7. Nation building is hard and will take time and to an extent smaller, less resource rich countries with greater fear of failure are most poised to win
8. In the long run, empires rise and fall. What matters then is legacy. What have all these conquering, trading and learning really brought about?

There are such names .......

“There are such names in the world that leads people into a world of dreams. the magic and fame of these names immediately impact your mind when you hear or read about them. There is such a name amongst them that attracts our imagination to itself, it is Samarkand.”

And after nearly three weeks of travel (with the last couple of thousand kilometres cross crossing four national borders), we made it to Samarkand.

“It seems that this name emerged from a whirlpool of clear and diverse colours, the scent of perfumes, fabulous palaces, bells of caravans, pure melodies and yet misunderstood feelings.” Federico Mayor, DG of UNESCO

Samarkand indeed evokes all of these sentiments and so does Bukhara, in different ways. The former had style and the latter substance. But both have now faded and are mainly playing hosts to retired Europeans and Americans and the occasional intrepid travellers like us.

Inevitably, empires (and their cities) rise and fall. But Athens, Rome, Beijing, London, Tokyo all remain relevant. So what happened here?

The last two words of the UNESCO DG speaks volumes; for after all the stupendous achievements of Samarkand, Bukhara and many other cities we have seen along the Silk Road, three things ring true:

1. Geography matters. Oases in deserts, hubs at Crossroads, fertile valleys... these are where cities are built
2. Ambition matters. Cities that become capitals of empire naturally become the centre of wealth, culture and knowledge but the start were always cruel in the sense that wars were waged in order to gain ground
3. Openness matters. The only way for empires to hold is that the rulers find a way to keep the growing population in check, whether by delivering peace and/or prosperity and often also sharing power. This 4P formula is a recipe for success but not if succession planning is not put in place for future generations who fail to follow this formula will also fail the population and ultimately lose the empire.

As alluded to, in the end, misunderstood feelings spell the end of empires. Misunderstanding geography (like how Bukhara overutilised their rivers), misunderstanding ambition (like how precious capital cities like Alexandria Eschate are left behind by new ones) and misunderstanding openness (as happened to all of Central Asia during the Soviet era) all led to the demise of these once great cities.

In this 21st century, new powers have arisen and these cities along the Silk Road are trying to make sense of their roles, esp. when they are being bordered by superpowers from all corners: China in the east, India in the south, Russia in the North.

It will take another 5-10 years (one to two full terms of democratically elected officials of these countries nowadays) to fix the infrastructure. However, it will take another 20-30 years to fix the mindsets. A whole generation of people to learn the virtues of self reliance, of hard work, of the pursuit of knowledge and then these great ancient civilisations would have arrived. Whether they can do it depends on their government and also very much on their culture.

As of now, with improving (though in parts still derelict) infrastructure, the Silk Road - or in some other description the High and Long Road - is still a challenge to cross, whether by air, rail and esp via road. Like the mountain roads in Tajikistan under constant assault by avalanche of snow, rocks and heavy goods vehicle, the soles of my shoes gave way and got nailed back reactively and preemptively by a clobber in a Dushanbe bazaar, Joe’s watch is developing a nice patina especially against the bronze sunset hues in Registon Square, M’s stomach gave way in Turpan and again in Samarkand and D’s cabin bag zipper serendipitously got stuck at the Ulugqaat customs checkpoint. However, these are add to our adventure. It wouldn’t be a Silk Road journey if one didn’t suffer these conditions caused, respectively by heavy use, by the weather, by the food or by the wiles of authorities.

I am not sure the Silk Road will regain its eminence as before. Its very existence, however, especially in the state it is now, will lead people into a world of dreams and indeed some places will be dreams unto themselves.

This time next week we will be in the comfort of our own rooms

Right now, we are rained out in Dushanbe here in Tajikistan, and we are into the final third of our journey west.

I have been keeping my friends posted on Facebook with photos from the trip; an activity I have never indulged in. I hope I am not boring them though immodestly I would say the 150+ photos (about 10 a day) uploaded so far are quite nice.

But the photos are an edited, curated experience. Being there - on the streets, getting the smiles and sometimes even the request for a photo, concluded with a flat palm on the heart to signify gratitude - these experiences cannot be properly captured on the shots. Instead, these are felt in the hearts and having now been to three Central Asian countries (we will re-enter Uzbekistan tomorrow), I must say the hospitality they exude is both warm and authentic. One would expect guides to make their guests feel welcome but Stalbeck the story-telling Kyrgyz, Madina the motherly host and Firdaus the accommodating and kind patriot are as much part of the journey as their beautiful countries.

Perhaps because we came to Kyrgyzstan via Kashgar and hence were subject to their “Big Brother” checks, the sense of relief may have made the new place even more welcoming and magnificent. I assure you we were by now hardened travellers and not that easily persuaded. In fact, at the China-Kyrgyzstan border, we had to navigate nearly a kilometre of “neutral zone” down a rough chicane road in cold drizzle, only to be stopped at a military post and being pestered to be driven another kilometre to the immigration checkpoint for SGD4 each. Stalbeck was late. It was not a good start though I must say the rest of the trip, it went perfectly. The weather cooperated, and so did the roads and occasional traffic of cattles, goats and sheep. With all these sights in order, we needed only to have our breaths taken away and they well were.

We have now left the deserts behind and ventured into mountain territory and were immediately taken by the majesty of these landforms reaching for the skies. I must addd that I felt wistful that J was not with us as he had to head back home for work. He would have been intensely thrilled.

After the harrowing tend hour drive (that could have been done in half the time if the overzealous privacy invading checks are moderated and inexplicably long lunch breaks are truncated) for the 300+km from Kashgar, we rested in a small village called Sary-Tash. We lived in the only guesthouse with indoor toilet which promptly ran out of power (and water) and ended up having to use the outhouse anyways. All these added to the adventure for we were communing with nature in this first stop in the ‘Stans like the locals, esp the Sary-Tash folks who seemed genuinely happy to see us. M and I took a walk through their village and though our destination was the panoramic views of the Tien Shan and Pamir Mountains, we were also rewarded by curious and happy kids including two boys up on a rooftop stacking hay and keen to get to know M. It must be frightening and flattering for her; frightening because in Kyrgyzstan there actually is a rite of bride “kidnaping” for elopement.

It was here in Sary-Tash that we were to encounter a new form of tour guide: the story-telling sort (in keeping with the Manas tradition in this country which purportedly has the longest story book in the world, longer than India’s Ramayana and Greece’s Odyssey. We then continued journeying west and every stop turned into an oral tradition including when he and I sat in Babur’s house at the peak of Suleiman Tol in Osh and there I heard stories of the great man’s ambition and conquest which eventually led to the founding of the Mughal Empire.

Osh is a major city that marked the start of the fertile Fergana Valley here in Central Asia. It is a 300km stretch of fertile land irrigated by the Syr Daria/river originating from Tien Shan/mountains. Hemmed in on both sides by mountains and deserts, this is the place where travellers found respite and more. We then travelled from its eastern tip in Osh, Kyrgyzstan through Kokand, Uzbekistan (the erstwhile capital and still proud of being the intellectual & cultural hub) to Khujand, Tajikistan formerly known as Alexandria Eschate and Leninabad.

The division into three countries for this valley speaks of how geography shapes history. It is THE sought after place in this lands of mountains and deserts. All the three cities that mark the tips and centre of the valley are important and now each belong to a different country, though in ages past they have all belong together, be it under the Russian Empire, the Mongolian Khanate or Somoni Empire. Under the banner of the Soviet Union, these lands were divided into states as we have today though the borders are somewhat laughable. There is a road to Kujhand where the left lane belongs to Kyrgyzstan and the right to Tajikistan.

Tajikistan is perhaps the most surprising country for us. It is as unknown to us as Kyrgyzstan except for one fact: it has been in the news since the beginning of the 21st century as a country torn by civil war. Imagine our surprise when we say that not only is it now peaceful, it is also moderate and not an extremist religious state although it shares a long border with Afghanistan.

There is advantage in adversity, as the saying goes and here in Tajikistan there is a strong patriotic fervour. The people here are happy to be free from the tyrannies of war and really want to progress. This was made so visceral to us esp on the first evening in Kujhand our guide Firdavs belted out the national anthem with vim and vigour. Indeed, every museum we step into tell of the great history of the Tajik (often extended into Persian, Aryan peoples) and how well into the modern times, they are still producing world class talents (esp of the literary, cultural sort).

All these countries are just 28 years old, from their independence of the Soviet Union. The efforts to build infrastructure (there is construction everywhere), welcome tourists (procedures are increasingly made easier, which explains our ease of travel in this part compared to when in Xinjiang) and to fire up the national spirit. I felt this more in the smaller countries (K and T, then in U).

Inexplicably (and perhaps not so), YouTube made a suggestion for me to view a video of Singapore in 1983. As it turns out, that is also when Singapore has experienced 28 years of self rule and these cities we have just seen are actually ahead in terms of infrastructure. I really hope the people are really hungry for that is the true source of progress. With the genie out of the bottle, let’s indeed hope it is impossible to put it back in again and may they grow well.

Tajikistan’s capital city of Dushanbe is almost a textbook application of city building. Markets have been cleaned up and bazaars are now housed in modern building more akin to shopping malls. The streets are wide and tree lined and it has been said that this city has more land devoted to parks and gardens than anywhere else in the world. Having walked through a couple of these, we are ready believers.

As we press on westwards, deep into the heart of Central Asia, the trip is less about sights & sounds but a voyage of reflection and renewal.

An apt juncture to start

Travelogues has been one my favourite from of writings. My blogs the last few years are more about Everyday life, at school, at work and at home. I was keen to start writing about this trip but had left this particular penmanship exercise till halfway into this travel adventure. At this point, one the 11th day of the trip, I am ready to pour some thoughts onto the page.

This trip that has lived up to all the mystique surrounding the Silk Road, and none more so than having to sit here in the lobby of the border crossing into Krgrzystan awaiting our passports, bags, phones, photos and books to be cleared. In fact clearing these staging posts has been an adventure in itself. Whether departing or arriving from train stations or crossing checkpoints on the highway, they are very careful who and what they let through. It is good precaution and one of the reasons why the country is so safe.

We started in Beijing, flying in from Singapore while Josh flew in from Tijuana after his project in Baja California. It was nice to meet this way. Really shows the globalised state we live in.

We were there on May 4th, and while this date is more popularly known as Star Wars day, it is also the anniversary of the rise of significant philosophical school of thought in the country, the anti-imperialist new culture movement. In fact, this was its 100th anniversary. It was a good time to share with Josh and Meg my thoughts on this matter.

Beijing technically is not part of the ancient Silk Road. Though the seat of the Yuan dynasty, the Silk Road terminus is Xian. So we made our way there not on the high speed railway but on the overnight sleeper train. If I find it hard sleeping in SQ, you can well imagine I hardly caught 40 winks. The rest of the travellers though slept soundly, for 8 full hours. So, they arrived all fresh and we were met by Jolene, a friendly Chinese guide who were relieved we spoke Chinese and are not from UK. A local from the city, she started us off the right way by bringing us to the museum and narrated the history of the country and city.

Xian is a key destination on the Silk Road. The first thing that underlined this fact was that Xian housed a mosque which is a living tourist site today. Then known as Changan (Long Peace), it was the capital of the very first unified China. Though his reign and indeed the dynasty Qin Shi Huang founded was short lived, he introduced one common language, one key factor to ensuring seamless communication. We saw his the warriors and horses guarding him in the afterlife. And it was here that I realised how I preferred my archaeology: raw!

I liked seeing the half buried, even fragmented pieces, in situ, rather than completely done up. I know get why some vintage car collectors prefer to keep their barn finds as is.

Xian’s ancient city walls still stands today and a timely reminder of how walls work. Our experience of walking on it is only enhanced by the viewing of Netflix’s Marco Polo that dramatized Kublai Khan’s efforts to rule all of China. That was merely 800 years or so ago but they found an advanced matriarchal civilisation of Banpo right in the middle of the city which dates back 6000 years ago. Indeed, this city is Changan.

We continued westwards just like the great monk and stopped next in Dunhuang. We were very much in Silk Road adventure mode (albeit gentrified for tourists) and rode camels (and ATV) on the sand dunes of Mt Mingsha and took in the beautiful view of Crescent Moon Lake.

What really took our breath away though is the desert scape. Dunhuang is an oasis at the edge of Taklamakan desert and the Silk Road branches into Northern, central and Southern pathways from here. And seeing how beautiful it is here, it makes sense that this strategically located town is the Crossroads. Much of the town is new but the landscape is not and we were well awed.

We also visited nearby Mogao grottoes, where the rich and the religious carved grottoes out of the sandstone mountain adorned with beautiful Buddhist art. Some of these have survived incredibly well hidden from the elements within the grottoes. It is however much harder from the theiving hands of man and sadly ancient Buddhist manuscripts were taken from one of the grottoes back to Britain.

From Dunhuang, we took another overnight train to Turpan. To do so, we had to drive almost 200kms to Liuyuan past the Gobi desert, with the Hei Shan in the background. There are two types of desert: sandy ones or rocky ones. Gobi is as rocky as Taklamakan is sandy. Both are dry but Gobi is also flat and so for miles all you see I are flat arid plains, which is cleverly utilised now as wind and solar farms turning a barren wasteland into energy producing areas. Dunhuang has been rebuilt for tourists but Liuyuan certainly wasn’t. It’s a railway station town and looks as grimy and greasy as industrial outposts are expected to be.

We were happy to be in Turpan, which is of Silk Road heritage, with security and border controls to match. How we wish we had the Khan’s golden tablet to facilitate easy passage through all of these stops but alas, two penknives and a bottle of perfume short, not to mention much time taken to record our passports (manually and photographically), we remain mere tourists on this historical path.

Turpan is proud, and rightly so, of its past but I feel it tries too hard to showcase it. With its landscapes of the Huoshan and Tienshan in between both Gobi and Taklamakan deserts, Turpan is a crossroad city just like a Dunhuang before. It too has its Buddhist grottoes in Bekzlekik but nearly all of these have been defaced by Muslims who came to dominance here 800 years ago. This is located in a canyon so all very picturesque, and so they built up new “old” structures and even film sets around these sites.

We thought we would had left Disneyland meet Haw Par Villa behind after the Bekzlekik when we visited the Grape Valley that Turpan is famous for. Alas this was no Napa Valley but rather almost an amusement centre with bright coloured shuttle cars with dance floor music and acrobatic shows. We did buy some raisins though.

The day was much redeemed when Momingjie, our jolly chain-smoking guide brought Josh and me to the ruins of the 2000 year old Yar City which is perhaps the best preserved site from two Millenia ago in the world. They’ve made no gaudy embellishments here and made the experience so much more authentic. The fact that we saw Banpo just days ago also allowed us to imagine our minds what that could have looked like.

I mentioned that only Josh and I saw the Yar City ruins. Meg had fallen ill in this desert town (just like Josh ten years ago in the Indian desert town of Rajasthan) and supermom Dawn stayed at the lodge to look after her. In fact, supermom whom we just celebrated mother’s day with came fully prepared with medicines, herbs, rice and even a cooker!

She need not rely on any shaman of the steppes to nurse our daughter back to health and in no time, Meg was up and about. The recovery was fortunately quite speedy that even at sunset dinner in Turpan at the rooftop of the lodge we were staying in, we played a question game Josh introduced us to. We continued it and learned that as parents, we have attributes that provides deep roots and strong wings. No prizes for guessing who is which.

The combination of these traits are strongly required as we pushed to the westernmost tip of China, into Kashgar. It too has the setting of a period movie and in fact The Kite Runner was filmed here. It is here in Kashgar, esp within the walls of the ancient city with its free-range kids that the full experience of travelling in these parts come alive. The people, young and old, male and female, are of all complexions. They are truly a blend of all worlds, and a living testimony to global integration.

Sure, it has it sites, like the beautiful Abu Hojak tombs which I felt was a predecessor to the Taj Mahal (and we were to learn more about the founder of the Mughal empire later) not just for Xiang Fei but also for its architecture.

Then there is the Sunday market and their great bazaar. Sadly, there was an outbreak of swine flu when we were there and the livestock market was closed. We saw the bird market instead and that experienced extracted from Dawn the observation if there was a categorisation of 4th world economies. For the way the market is (dis)organised, the throngs of people through it, the mode of negotiation (hanging out a 100¥ note to the seller indicating your last and final offer) and the general din of the place truly hark back to an earlier less developed era. Silk Road, did I hear anyone say? It’s just as well that the livestock market was closed for I dare say adding to this chaos the putrid smell of live animal droppings would be too much to bear.

The grand bazaar is much more organised until we reached the outside for on Sunday all sorts of people come out to hawk their wares and some even the household items of their grandparents on the streets. In the market, in the bazaar or on the streets, these vendors all deserve their place in the tapestry that is life in Kashgar. This has always been a trading city, from the old days of the Silk Road, and making/trading is very much in the lifeblood of the people here.

We have now spent 11 days on the road and have another dozen days to go. Our experiences on the China Silk Road have been unlike any other trips we have taken. Describing this as a trip is quite inadequate, as this is turning out to be a voyage. Strong wings, deep roots.