May 31
Bama was convinced. After five visits to Bali, he had just found his favourite place on the island. At a quarter to eight we were among a small handful of visitors in the grounds of Taman Sukasada Ujung, a water palace and pleasure garden once built for the local king. Read more
May 23
From the dawn of recorded history, one of humankind’s most enduring narratives has been the eternal battle between good and evil. In Balinese tradition this is expressed in Barong dance, named after the mythical king of the spirits who leads his followers in the fight against demon queen Rangda. Read more
Apr 30
Deep inside the northeastern New Territories, within sight of Mainland China, the Hakka village of Lai Chi Wo remains eerily quiet on the first day of Chinese New Year. Even on this day of celebration, the village exists in a semi-abandoned state, with the confetti-like remnants of firecrackers scattered at the threshold of several houses. Read more
Apr 17
When family friends and relatives are in town, my father makes it a point to take them to Stanley. He goes not for its famous street market – where stacks of knickknacks and souvenirs can be found – but to soak up the town’s ambiance and history. Read more
Mar 30
The last time I set foot on Lamma Island, before taking Bama there this Chinese New Year, was at least four or five years ago on a boat trip with a pack of old friends. The name Lamma, literally ‘Southern Y’ in Cantonese, is a reference to the heavily indented coastline which resembles two forks, one pointing northwards and the second facing east. Read more
Mar 21
We left Ubud at six in the morning, stomachs empty and eyes still heavy with sleep. Bli Komang had the habit of showing up half an hour early, which Bama and I saw as a chance to gain extra time before the afternoon rains. Both of us admired Bli Komang’s work ethic. “I’d rather be the one waiting than the guest,” he said. Read more
Mar 7
Bli Komang turns to me and laughs. I am sitting beside him, sweat trickling down my face, inside a dimly lit warung on a main road in Sanur. Outside there is little to distinguish the restaurant from others save a baby blue sign proclaiming “HANDAYANI”, its bolded letters above a photo cutout of babi guling, Balinese suckling pig.
I had travelled to Timor-Leste in the hopes of meeting someone who would freely tell us about the past. Bama, in his wish to hear an unfiltered version of events, chose to conceal his Indonesian identity. Read more
Feb 21
There was once a small crocodile who lived in a swamp. His dream was to grow to an enormous size, but food was scarce and the swamp too small to support enough prey. “I must get out of here,” he thought, so the crocodile left the swamp and began his journey to find better waters. But that day the sun was strong, baking the ground and weakening him until he could no longer move. He lay roasting alive in the sand, waiting to die. Soon a boy passed by and, taking pity on the little crocodile, carried him to the edge of the sea. The crocodile thanked the boy for his kindness, telling him, “If you would like to travel, to one day cross the sea, come and see me.” Read more
Feb 18
The old man hovers over our table and grins, lowering his voice to almost a whisper. “Order the Singapore noodles,” he admonishes, “It’s the best.”
Long a staple of Hong Kong’s ubiquitous cha chaan teng – those small teahouses and diners serving generous portions of comfort food – Singapore noodles are in fact a Cantonese creation. It is something of a misnomer; gastronomes would be hard pressed to find this exact dish in the Southeast Asian city-state, so famous for its street food. Read more
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