A Crystal Across the Seas

I WAS at Waterford looking for crystals. Waterford, situated in the southeast region of Ireland, is renowned for its crystal-making industry. Gazing at the beautiful crystals displayed in showcases, I was reminded of a cookie stall back in Malaysia, where there was a sign that read "Free Smells". In this case, I was entitled to a "Free Look".

Feeling hungry, I decided to sniff out some Chinese cuisine in Passage East, a little town in Waterford, off the beaten track. The search was not futile as tucked away in a little corner was a very impressive Chinese restaurant named Howay. (Possibly "good taste" in Mandarin.)

I am still amused that Chinese restaurants here have all the symbols of Chinese culture: red lanterns, images of the eight immortals, pandas, dragons, bamboo and other paraphernalia which make them distinctive. The menus are almost always similar. For example, there is a section on chow mein (noodles), where there is a list of chow mein with prawns, chow mein with beef and chow mein with chicken. Now, would it not be simpler if the menu had read chow mein with any meat of your choice?

The meat or fish served is always fillet-style and I miss sucking on a tasty chicken bone or sinking my teeth into a sweet-and-sour garoupa. I also observe that a plate of rice is always served with a fork, never with a fork and spoon. In some restaurants that I am familiar with, the waiter would also present me with an "insider's" menu, whereby the curries will be hotter and the fish or chicken will be cooked with the bones intact, the way we do it in Chinese Malaysian restaurants.
Walking up the carpeted stairs of Howay, Mr Charming with a broad smile said, "Welcome". I replied in Mandarin, "Liang wei", literally meaning table for two. Whenever I reply in Mandarin or Cantonese when I see an Oriental in a shop or restaurant, the effect is profound and I suspect the service becomes better because we are on common ground. Immediately, the smile was transfixed on the young man's face. It was the same when I spoke Malay to the owner of an Indonesian shop in Amsterdam.

After we had ordered, Mr Charming was curious and asked where I was from. I said, " Ma-lai-xi-ah" and there was a split-second silence. I could hear a pin drop. Then he said, "I am from Terengganu" to which I replied that I once taught in Dungun, too. After that, there was no stopping the questions and answers as we exchanged in Mandarin trivial information about our commonalities.

He told me that he had been in Passage East for six years and his customers came from near and far. I admired his tenacity and spirit of entrepreneurship. I wondered why anyone would travel across mountains and oceans to start a restaurant in a predominantly white area. I believed the reasons must have been good and well thought-out before a brave move like that was made. It could be for economical or educational reasons. It reminded me of how my father came from China to Malaysia to ensure that his family had a better life. It reminded me of practicality, love and sacrifice -- the extent that we would go to secure a brighter future for our descendants.

I wondered what his family did after the restaurant closed for the day. Who did they meet up with for a game of mahjong? Did they go to the cinema or did they buy DVDs to watch at home? Did they go back to Terengganu on a regular basis? Did they mingle with the local white community?

Mr Charming suggested that I go to Tramore, a nearby seaside resort, after dinner.

"Who knows you could be lucky and get five sevens," he said.

Not trying to expose my ignorance, I had to go to Tramore to find out what "five sevens" was. I laughed when I discovered that if I had five sevens on a one-armed bandit machine, I could win myself E2,500 (RM 10,000) at least. But what was winning euros compared with the best dinner I ever had?

The food was good and the service excellent. The Chinese music that filled the air reminded me of my mother singing in the kitchen. But most of all, it was the beauty of finding a crystal of similarities in a far-flung corner of the world.

Wishing all Chinese Malaysians a happy and prosperous New Year.

SAVOURING A WINTRY CHARM

AS the arctic weather descends, I find myself walking across a bridge paved with snow and ice at snail’s pace lest I fall. The cold snap is the result of high pressure over Iceland and low pressure in the south which is feeding cold air over Ireland.
The first snowflake fell around midnight about a month ago and I roused my daughter from her bed because she had not seen one. When we opened the front door, we found that we were not alone, as others had also emerged from under their cosy electric blankets to catch the wintry charm. Soon we were making snowballs and pelting at each other, right at midnight. Others were taking photos of the snow and the footprints left behind.

Every season has its own beauty.

Winter by far is the last season of the year and makes a grand entrance, like the fat lady who sings at the end of the show.

It is after all the culmination of all the days that had been and the promise of better days to come.
Winter spells a white landscape and a different living style.

A white landscape is something that takes everyone by surprise overnight even if it happens every year.

I went to sleep when the leaves were still golden brown to find them suffering from premature aging the next day for they had turned completely white.
Rooftops looked like they had been covered with royal icing and snow people dotted the gardens that were once green Snow people would be the politically correct term these days as we have the traditional snowman with hat, carrot nose and twigs for hands and the avant-garde snowwoman who wears a broad smile and a bra.

I heard over the radio that a woman had called the police to investigate the fact that someone had stolen her snowman because she had put coins where his eyes should be.

I thought it sounded ridiculous and ludicrous.

Truly, winter brings a different lifestyle.

Temperatures have plummeted to as low as minus 5º C. I cannot just hop into my car and drive away without checking the weather forecast first.

Snow showers, ice and freezing fog are the order of the day. There are strange terms like black ice and grit and salt that pepper conversations.
Black ice refers to a thin, unexpected and nearly invisible coating of ice on a roadway or walkway surface. As my house is on a slope, we are advised to park our cars elsewhere on level ground when brakes will not work on slippery roads. Then when I saw town council workers busy working in the freezing cold with luminous safety jackets, I asked them curiously what they were doing.

“We are putting grit on the roads, so the people won’t fall. We have enough grit in stock to keep the country’s road network accessible as we brace ourselves for a bitterly cold snap.” He said and showed me the bits of grit which looked like small stones. People are also buying salt to help melt the snow on their driveways. In Dublin, winter maintenance crews would use in the region of 100 tonnes of salt every night when the snow is severe.

My car is covered with ice every night and I pour warm water over the windscreen in the morning.

Clothes that are partially dried would be draped over the radiators to take advantage of the heat. I have learnt how to start a fire in a fireplace and images of Enid Blyton’s characters and toasting marshmallows in the fireplace all seem so real.

Being a clothes horse, one of the nice things about winter is I can wear beautiful coats, woolen scarves and hats that would otherwise have made me melt under the Malaysian heat.