CUP OF IPOH COFFEE MADE MY DAY

Life was very much simpler when I could order either black or white coffee usually served in a cup and saucer and sometimes in a glass. If I wanted a takeaway, the coffee would be packed in a plastic bag with a straw tied to it.

Now coffee brands pride themselves on the different varieties of the coffee drink they can offer with prices that match the cost of their ingenuity, so to speak. So we look up at the signboard filled with fancy names for the humble coffee drink and struggle in our minds deciding whether we should order an Americano, a shot in the dark, a café au lait, a café breva, a café macchiato, an expresso or a café latte.

As if the list is not daunting enough, there is the frappe, the hammerhead, the madras filter coffee, the kopi Tubruk, the Melya, the Mocca, the Oliang and the Lungo. And if I wanted a takeaway, the coffee would come in a fancy paper or plastic cup with a lid. Sometimes there is a special holder too, so that the heat will not burn my hand.

I have not tasted most of these exotic drinks, preferring to stick to the familiar and regular cup and therefore will not attempt to expound on the exquisite aroma or how one is defined by the coffee she drinks. Instead, it is the enigmatic circumstances that surround me when I drink my favourite cuppa that leave the best memories.

If Shane West and Mandy Moore have A Walk To Remember, I certainly have A Cup to Remember, two great cups even.

The first great cup of coffee was drunk alfresco in a café around the corner of Thomas Street in Limerick. I was in between shopping for school books for my daughter and shopping for myself as a reward for shopping for school books for my daughter. So, I decided on a coffee and a cream bun as I listened to the maestro belting out classics like "'O sole mio" (the sun) which is a globally known Neapolitan song written in 1898. Although I did not understand a single word of the lyrics penned by Giovanni Capurro, the melody composed by Eduardo di Capua was breathtaking. I was not the only one soaking in the ambience. I could see the appreciative audience sipping their coffee very slowly to make it last as many songs as possible.

As we imagined ourselves somewhere in sunny Italy, we were thrust back into Ireland when the rain came. Like a magician the maestro dished out an umbrella and began his next song, Nessun Dorma (None Shall Sleep), so naturally, as if the weather did not affect him at all. That to me was professionalism. I could have sat there the whole day, but then again I could not drink that many cups of coffee.

The next great cup of coffee was drunk in a Chinese restaurant in Newbridge, County Kildare. We were on the way to Dublin airport to pick my daughter upon her return from Germany and we decided to make a turn off to Newbridge for some steamy hot rice and asian cuisine. There were a good number of restaurants to choose from but somehow we gravitated towards Kings Park Chinese and Thai Restaurant on the Main Street.

Every time we enter an Asian restaurant, we would try to guess where the proprietors come from by looking at their faces and listening to their accents. So far, we have correctly identified Mainland Chinese, Taiwanese, Thais, and the list goes on. At Kings Park, I suspected that we were among Malaysians so I asked the young man who waited at our table where he was from.

‘Malaysia, Ipoh to be precise’ he said.

Every time someone mentions Malaysia, the effect would be electric. There was great camaraderie between us as we exchange light conversation about Malaysia and Ireland and I could see how his face lit up when he told me he was going back to Malaysia for a month’s holiday. We had a 3-course meal and coffee was to be served last. So I said, ‘Do you have Ipoh coffee?’ He smiled and said he would concoct something for me.

The next thing I knew was he brought me a tall glass of coffee with milk. I thought he was a true Malaysian at heart, very hospitable and he went out of the way to do something for a fellow Malaysian, both far away from home.

To me that was paradise. It was certainly a taste of Malaysia in Ireland. As we continued our journey to Dublin airport the taste of Ipoh coffee lingered on my lips.


SOURCE: THE NEW STRAITS TIMES 25 SEPT 2011 http://trove.nla.gov.au/work/157461228

SHEER JOY IN PLANTING OWN GREENS

I have just cooked a meal. Nothing out of the ordinary since I enjoy cooking but it is yet another milestone for me to savour the produce of my backyard. I have always thought it a gargantuan task to grow any vegetables lest harvest them since I have spent most of my life living in a city. But now with a humongous backyard, I felt that it would be a shame not to sow some life into it.

So began my adventure into planting seeds and bulbs. Emma O Dwyer, who conducts gardening classes at St Munchin’s Community Centre gave me valuable tips on how to prepare the soil, sow seeds, propagate cuttings and even make fertilizers out of nettles. Apparently the gooey mash is excellent fodder for the ground but the only snag is the rotting weed stinks. She is a great teacher, explaining everything in detail and never failing to answer even the simplest questions. Through all the sessions, I felt wonderful to be a student all over again.

For weeks, I would scout out slugs and snails in the dark of the night with a torchlight and dogged determination. With quite a number of disappointments given the weather and pests, I was blown away when I saw the heads of cabbages forming, the heavy tomatoes bursting out of the delicate stalks , beans appearing among tendrils and potatoes emerging from the soil. Most of all, it is the eating of food that is free from pesticides, plant growth regulators and genetically modified organisms that makes it all so meaningful. It may sound strange but home-grown food actually tastes sweeter than commercially produced ones.

To add protein to the dinner table, my brothers-in-law Martin and Gerard and my step sons Michael and Mark brought home pike and perch caught from the river near my house for the frying pan.

Not knowing what to do with the abundance of berries in the backyard, I immediately signed up for a workshop held at the Irish Seedsavers in Scariff on how to make jams and chutneys out of fruits and vegetables. Hilary Taylor showed us how to boil fruits and vegetables and how to bottle them so they would last. She was a natural and explained to us step-by-step on how it was done. After all the hard work of tilling the ground and minding the plants, I wanted to be sure that nothing was to go to waste. It was a delight to be in the company of like minds: a newbie among veterans.

I like the system here where preserving the environment takes precedence over most things. It is not uncommon to see bird feeders filled with nuts and seeds to attract wild birds. It comes as a surprise to me that most people actually know the names of the birds and the flowers in their vicinity. When I was in Malaysia, the names of wild birds remained in books for bird lovers and the names of flowers were the forte of nursery owners in Sungei Buloh. So lately, I have started to learn the names of the birds that visit the bird feeders and the names of the flowers and the shrubs too.

What I have embarked on is an amateurish route to sustainable living. But over here I have seen some groups of people who are into it full force. There are accountants and lawyers who have left their professions to till the land or to become craftsmen. Organic farming is also the craze and we even have organic salmon.

Another major factor of back-to-basics living involves that which no human can live without, water. We will be installing water butts which are plastic or oak drums for collecting rain water. With rain almost all year round in Ireland, this is a wonderful device. Most things are sold in do-it-yourself kits. The look of having to install anything is daunting but information is readily available here. There are very good regular gardening programmes over the national television station teaching us how to fix a water butt, protect potato plants from blight or build a barbeque pit in the garden.


What I started out as a hobby has also turned into a sense of pride. It is nice to walk down the street and meet neighbours or strangers who tell you that the window boxes of ruby red geraniums are beautiful or the baskets of yellow viola are breathtaking.

And they have not seen what is in my backyard yet.

SOURCE: THE NEW STRAITS TIMES 11 SEPT 2011 http://www.highbeam.com/doc/1P1-197493061.html

LIFE OVERSEAS - GUIDING LIGHT

Pei Yi visited us recently and we had loads of fun. Audrey decided to write an article for New Straits Times Malaysia and it was carried on 28 August 2011........
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AN emigrant often hears cries of “I will come to visit you soon!” from friends.

But typically, words remain words and rarely become actions.

However, my friend Emily Tian Pei Yi from the University of Bristol, England did visit my turf, Ireland.
And because I was no longer a stranger to the country, I became her tour guide.

Our first stop was King John’s Castle, Limerick as we explored the grounds and narrow spiralling staircases made of stone.

It is intriguing to imagine how the maidens of old walked in gowns and high heels.

There is a section in the fort where visitors can experience how it felt to be a prisoner in medieval times, restrained with wooden stocks.

As Ireland is famous for its green pastures and picturesque towns, taking a stroll by a lake and witnessing the battle of seagulls versus ducks for breadcrumbs is a must.

Our next destination had something to do with FarmVille, the well-known game on Facebook.

But instead of staring at an LCD screen and clicking away with the mouse, we experienced it first-hand.

We were given the golden chance to ride behind the wheels of a tractor.

That was just the start of the tour.

Later, the farm owner handed us a bag of scrumptious biscuits and we were left in a field of starving animals.

The sheep were most peculiar as the average sheep would make a break for it at the sound of a human. But these ones came running at us with mouths open wide with only one thing on their minds — get the biscuits.

Fun and laughter aside, a farmer’s job is a challenging one.

After all the petting, the owner’s eyebrows began to furrow as she said: “There is one sheep short.”

After recounting several times, she let out a relieved sigh. “All 26 sheep are accounted for.”

What astounded me was that she knew all of them by name.

As for us, we got to enjoy ourselves for the day — we petted the sheep and fed the donkeys — but the hard work is the upkeep of the animals.
Our next stop? Limerick Milk Market.

Giggles and snorts were in the air as we compared it with the pasar malam.
In Limerick Milk Market, stalls sell multicoloured cheeses, hand-knitted teapot cosies and steaming cups of hot cocoa, for example.

In Malaysia, we get crispy fried chicken, refreshing lemonade jelly drink and delectable apam balik.

Both markets are special in their own way with their unique aroma and charm.

But sadly, the holiday had to come to an end as Tian had to return to Bristol.

She wrote a card expressing her gratitude for my hospitality and appreciation for the tours.

Reading her note made me feel like I should be the one to thank her.

This is because as I walked through the streets, visited the towns and different parts of Ireland, I too learnt that there is always something new to look forward to.

When Tian arrived in Ireland, I thought that I would show her what I was familiar with.

Never did I know that I would one day stroke sheep without them running away or that there are multicoloured cheeses just a stone’s throw away

THE CIRCLE OF LOVE DOES NOT EXCLUDE

The circle has always been a symbol of sorts. While we have the Lion King’s infamous Circle of Life and the circle of prehistoric stones that stand at Stonehenge, we also encounter man-made circles.

I am talking about those who belong to the “inner circle” and those who are left to stand outside, looking in. Society has the tendency to exclude those who are different.


Rather than trying to understand and embrace another, the easier stand is to set up boundaries so impossible to penetrate, not unlike barbed wires.

The question is: are these barbed wires manacles of the mind, keeping outside ideas from infiltrating? Barbed wires set up to reject the new can only lead to a loss, a loss of knowledge and understanding.


With a few unpleasant exceptions, a foreigner to Malaysia is usually made to feel welcome.


The tag words of the Malaysian national carrier: “Arrive as a guest, leave as a friend” could not have summed it up any better.

Sadly, the same cannot be said of Malaysians trying to fit into a foreign country. August is the month where students who intend to study overseas start to prepare themselves to leave home.


Through my conversations with Malaysians who have studied or are still studying abroad, although much effort is put into acculturation, there seems to be an invisible line that is difficult to cross.


The inner circle, i.e. people of the host country, consciously or unconsciously remains sacrosanct.

I can only attribute this to a lack of exposure to other races. Most countries consist of a mono cultural background. If you do not happen to be interested in the practices or pursuits of the people of the land, therein lies a dearth in conversation topics or social bonding.


I am not defending a kampung attitude while studying overseas, but perhaps these young Malaysians have tried to break into such sacred circles, and have given up in the process.


I attended a talk on teaching children with special needs and the current move is to include, and not to exclude, such children from the mainstream crowd. So, we have children with special needs sitting side by side with other able-bodied children during class time. This is a classic example of inclusion.


We exclude because of a lack of love, understanding, prejudice and fear. We include because we care for the person, we treat others as equals, we want to make a difference and learn from each other.

The Greeks, in all their wisdom, coined four words for love: Storgé (affection), Phileo (friendship), Eros (sexual love) and Agape (unconditional love).


We can only know someone if we spend enough time with her. The process of communication can be impeded by language barrier.

I have heard of a German exchange student say that because she has difficulty expressing herself in English, students of the host country simply do not have the patience to hear her out.


If we do not bother to know a person, her thoughts or her ideas, then we will not include her in the inner circle.


When a baby cries in the company of other babies, the mother of the baby will come running because she recognises the cry.


A shepherd will make sure that every sheep has entered the pen and if any is missing, he will go and find the lost sheep. The bottomline is when we know someone, then only can we love her.

What am I saying? In simple terms, it takes time and effort to know a person. It takes resolve to offer that hand of friendship and the warmth of affection.


Modern man has no time or tenacity to bother about another quite unlike himself.


Sadly, that is his loss.

SOURCE: THE NEW STRAITS TIMES 28 AUG 2011 http://www.highbeam.com/doc/1P1-196819535.html

LIFE OVERSEAS: AT HOME ON EMERALD ISLE

My 17 year old, Audrey also writes fortnightly for New Straits Times Malaysia. This is her second article in YOU, Learning Curve.

MANY Malaysian students aspire to study abroad — Australia, the United Kingdom and the United States to name a few. I have been studying in Ireland for a year now. The adage “absence makes the heart grow fonder” is true indeed now that I am 10,940km away from Malaysia where I have been living for the past 16 years of my life. Ireland with all its rustic charm is different indeed.

Firstly, I was transported from a bustling city with skyscrapers and congested streets to a heritage town in the countryside filled with verdant greens, lowing Friesian cows, neighing horses and bleating lambs.

Then culture shock came. When I first arrived, I had a stereotyped image of the people in Ireland and its culture, which was greatly influenced by the media and the books that I had read.

Malaysia is known for its friendly people. Hospitality comes naturally to Malaysians as we are brought up in a multicultural society. Malaysians can just click in an instant. For me, it takes a mere five minutes to be engaged in an interesting conversation, once the introductions are over, especially when it involves the same age group.

Hanging out with friends at any time after school was a norm. One of our favourite haunts was the mamak eatery where food and drinks are sold twenty-four seven at reasonable prices in an open environment. Not so in the town where I live in Ireland. Although strangers on the street greet each other “Hello” or “How are ya?”, Asians are as scarce as hen’s teeth.

When I first arrived, I wanted to build bridges but it was only after endless attempts that a friendship was formed followed by a deeper bond. I felt that I had to put a lot of effort and thought into a conversation. Shopping malls and eateries close by 6pm. Only smoke-free bars and pubs open for longer hours. It is therefore difficult for students to find suitable places to meet their peers. But the scenery in Ireland is breathtaking. The fresh air and the green belt are amazing.

But when the summer holidays came, I could not wait to return to my hometown, Subang Jaya. As the national carrier touched down at Kuala Lumpur International Airport, my heart missed a beat as I heard the words, “And to all Malaysians, welcome home”.

Expectations were already set on the number of days which would be spent at home. Images of wolfing down nasi lemak, chee cheong fan and roti canai topped my list — a break from boiled cabbage, mashed potatoes and mushy peas typical of Irish menu.

The anticipation of seeing familiar faces at the arrival gate was high. The first day was emotional as I had not told many of my friends about my return and there were screams and tears in every direction as we hugged each other. It struck me there and then that home is irreplaceable. I might have been absent for the past year but it was as if I had never left. Days were packed with fun-filled activities. My motto was to make the best of it and be on the go throughout the six-week holiday.

It is said that the grass is greener on the other side but that is not necessarily true. After being in Ireland for a year, I can say that it is all a matter of perception. It is what we want to make of our environment that matters most. We should stop looking at the world through a negative lens. It is about a change in focus to realise that there is so much to be thankful for.

Initially, I felt that Ireland would never become a place that I could call home. Now I can say that I am rich in my experiences and I am thankful that I can call both Malaysia and Ireland home.

All it took was time.

EXPAND YOUR BORDERS

IT is always nice to find a reason to celebrate, to decorate a town and to mingle with the local crowd.
We recently celebrated the Brian Boru festival. Brian Boru (941-1014) was the last High King of Ireland. In memory of what he had done for Ireland, there was a line-up of interesting events for both the young and not so young, from concerts to fire throwing dances to falcon training to art trails.

The festivity and revelry got most of us to the streets, and encouraged by the fine weather, we found every excuse to stay outdoors for as long as possible, enjoying the programmes till the wee hours of the morning.

What was really amazing was that I found out that the people I knew who worked behind cold steely counters during the day exuberated warmth and passion in the arts by night. The dependable post mistress who drives a green van and delivers mail across hill and dale is also a very talented actress on stage. The town news correspondent, who is a familiar face at interesting events, interviewing people and scribbling in her notebook, is also a choir master. The manager of an Arts Centre is also a self taught artist who has put up her work for sale on the art trail.The transition is so fluid and if I had not known who or where they work, I would have thought they were professional artistes! It was surely an out-of-the box experience for me to see the same people I know by day become quite something else by night.

The closest image that I have of such versatility must have been one of the late Tan Sri P. Ramlee's films, Masam Masam Manis, where Sha'ari, the protagonist, is a teacher by day and a night club musician by night.

If I can remember correctly, my mind has been programmed to accept that dentists are dentists and road sweepers are road sweepers with a few exceptions to the rule. Over here, borders delineating what is expected or not expected do not seem to exist.

At poetry readings, I do not only see lecturers and students but the man-on-the-street who just enjoys poetry over a cup of tea. I know of one burly man who reads Helen Steiner Rice's poetry before he falls asleep and he is not an academic. People in suits and people in jeans read on the bus, on the tram and on the underground train.

Maybe it is because of the school system. There is no rigid streaming of the arts or sciences according to public examination results. A student who has done well in her junior certificate (similar to Penilaian Menengah Rendah) can pursue all science subjects, all arts subjects or a mixture of both the sciences and the arts for her next grade. There is no stigma attached to whatever stream of studies and the chosen course does not make one more superior or inferior.

Maybe it is because of the environment. There is certainly no dearth of the arts here. After all, the artistes' exemption scheme, which has been in place for 40 years, marks Ireland out as unique in Europe in its support for its artistes, the rationale behind the legislation was, inter alia, to create an environment in which the arts could flourish, and artistes living on modest incomes can practise their creative skills.

Maybe it is because of the parents' mindsets. Experience, practicality, economic necessity and well-told stories have influenced the parent's mind concerning career guidance. So we tell our children: if you choose profession A, you will succeed and if you choose profession B you will most likely die a pauper. So with good intentions, we navigate our children towards certain routes to success and steer them away from participation in activities that will distract.

As I see the wealth of opportunities and encouragement here and how young people are cheered on to explore their capabilities and talents, I will hold out a candle to the parent, the teacher, the friend or the significant adult who has made a difference in the life of that individual.

Next year, when the celebrations come around again, I think I must muster enough courage to join a stage play or to enquire humbly if my painting is good enough to be put on the art trail.

WATERFORD NEWS