Unusual "Date" - Part 2

He is a 9 year old boy in Primary Three, whom I shall call Johnny.

We met in a classroom in his primary school. The purpose of our date was for me to read to and with him, and hopefully motivate him to read more, and to inculcate good reading habits.

This is part of a volunteer reading programme that I recently took part it. The programme is meant to help students who are weak in their English. Most of the children who were selected for the programme came from families which are not well-off, those with family problems, or if parents are unable to coach them.

It runs for 16 sessions, about an hour per session.

Last week was supposed to be our first meeting, but Johnny did not turn up. The school’s general office made two announcements for him over the PA system but he did not appear. The volunteer coordinator said he probably forgot about it. And true it was. It was later found out that he had gone home.

I was quite excited prior to the session last week (it was my first volunteer stint with children), so was the disappointment over the wasted trip. It had been a while since I felt this nervous sense washing over me.

The adult world works differently from the children's. In the adult world, people talk even if they dislike one another; they laugh and smile even if there is nothing to be happy about; they say "see you again" when they really meant "I hope we don’t ever meet".

But with children (at least most), they say and do what they truly feel and think. Raw and with no pretence involved. That’s what makes me nervous. I have no idea what a primary three kid (boy especially!) likes, what he reads, what he does in his free time etc. I learned from the volunteer coordinator that Johnny likes ghost stories so I specially borrowed a book called "The Bookstore Ghost", with lots of big pictures and few words, from the library.

I pulled the book out from my file and chirped, "You like ghost stories, don’t you? Let's read one today!" When he saw that, he reached into his bag and pulled out a "Mr Midnight" book, with no pictures and lots of words.

I immediately felt silly. "The Bookstore Ghost" looked too easy! But I could not possibly rewind my actions with a remote control. I know how awful or ridiculous it feels when your abilities are underestimated. And worse still, to be treated younger than you really are. At least I did not like it when I was young. In the end, we did reading on both books.

I specially wore cute t-shirts for the reading sessions, hoping to "connect" better with children. Last week was Pink Panther, this week was Mr Bean. But I seriously doubted Johnny noticed it. There and then I decided, I shall just dress as I like the next time onwards.

Before the session, I bought an ultra-man picture that allows one to do glue painting. It comes with a frame, so once it is finished, it can be hung up on the wall. It’s pretty cool, I thought. I can already picture the gleam on Johnny’s face when he sees it.

As I reached into my file to unravel the surprise, I casually asked, "Do you like ultra-man?" That was a no brainer. All boys like ultra-man, don’t they?

"No." NO?!? I stopped short. Too late, I had already pulled out the ultra-man picture. Again, there was no remote control.

"Well…..hmmm….can you help me do the glue painting on this picture anyway?" Again his standard nod and we both got down to work. When it was finished, the time was up too. Frankly speaking, I felt a little at a loss after the session, as if I have not done much. I wondered how Johnny felt, if he felt anything at all.

The term "generation gap" kept popping up (ha!). I have yet to use the term on myself, not with reference to someone younger. The volunteer coordinator assured me that everything would go on well from here. I was not totally convinced, but I certainly hope so.

Johnny’s command of English was much higher than I expected, and I wonder how to help him from here on.

What books should I read with him this week? Tough choice, tough decision. It's just a few days away, I had better start doing my homework.

Unusual "Date" - Part 1

I am finally going to have a date with him.

We arranged to meet last week but he stood me up. I was told he forgot about it, but I have a feeling he chose not to remember.

This week, I specially dressed up for the occasion.

It was quite awkward initially when we were first introduced to each other. And then we were left alone. Neither of us spoke initially.

Then I broke the silence, "Do you know why you are here?"

He nodded his head silently. I could not tell from his expression if he truly knew. I also could not tell if that nod meant "I know why I am here and I am resigned to it", or if it meant "I came because I was told to". Neither option appears appealing. I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Time crawled on. Our date was supposed to last for 45 minutes to an hour. By half an hour, I was running out of things to say (or more specifically, to ask).

"What do you enjoy doing in your free time? What's your favourite colour? What animal do you like best?"

We were a picture of stark contrast. I was an invader charging with enthusiasm, he was a nonchalant spectator, watching with caution and boredom.

He looked from the floor to the table, to his fingers to the door. Not once did our eyes meet. He yawned a couple of times, and he smiled once or twice, quite faintly though, but I was sure those were smiles.

When time was almost up, I took out a piece of paper, wrote my name and phone number on it.

"Remember we are meeting up again next week, same time, same place, okie? Call me and let me know if you cannot make it, okie?" I was thinking of the last time he stood me up, and I did not want history to repeat itself.

He took the slip of paper, folded it up and cramped it into his pocket. I could not help but wonder where it will end up in another hour.

With that, he said goodbye and left without looking back.

Our first date ended on a note, as awkward as it started.

Foster Parents

Do you know that there is a fostering scheme in Singapore?

The fostering scheme works such that a child gets fostered if his own family is unable to take of him, if he is abused or abandoned. When his family is able to take him back, he leaves the foster family and returns. It is something like a temporary family home-stay for these children. Depending on the situation for each individual case, some children stay with their foster familiies for more than 10 years.

It is not adoption, although the two are often mixed-up.

A few days, I learned something new about the foster parents.

They are not encouraged to keep in touch with their foster child after he or she leaves them. That is, when they leave their foster family and return to their real family.

To put it crudely, they have to try to “break ties” at that point of time.

But why? A fellow reporter popped this question during a recent MCYS fostering scheme event.

Frankly speaking, I have no idea how strictly this is implemented (although I reckon the authorities cannot really do much if the foster child insists in keeping in touch, but then again, it seems that many children are fostered when they are really young, so it would probably be difficult for them to maintain contact even if they want to), but what I cannot understand is why this has to be so.

The fact that something by choice has to be insisted upon by the authorities, make people appear all the more in a sorry state.

I can understand that there may be sensitivities involved at this time. The “break contact measure” is perhaps to allow a smooth transition for the child to return and adapt to his true family. It is probably to prevent the foster family or the child from holding on.

But to what? To the past? It is a fact that the child was fostered, and that the foster family took in the child and looked after him as family for a period of time. If there was genuine family love nurtured between strangers, it should be something beautiful. Why forcefully destroy something beautiful?

Why can’t love from and towards both sides co-exist?

Perhaps, there are psychological factors involved to be considered for the child, which people outside the circle like me, do not know.

But something that a foster mother said lingered in my ear. She said that she feels sad whenever it is time for the foster child to leave. Perhaps it is because she knows that that may be the last time she hears from him.

I think foster families are great, especially the one that I know of taking in a teenager who suffered from cerebral palsy for four years.

Although the foster families do get allowances for taking care of the child, what they do is quite different from being a nanny. To take care of someone is one thing, to live with him and accept his everything is another.

And the heartache that they have to endure in this process pricks me.

Book Recommendation - The Kite Runner

The Kite Runner is one of the best books I have read so far.

There are not many books that brought tears to my eyes. Tuesdays with Morrie is one. The Kite Runner is another. I was reading it on the MRT when it brought a lump to my throat, and I had to fight hard to keep it down.

It is a sad and cruel tale, because it tells of the dark secrets and guilt one has live to with, if you did something wrong (or in this case, did not do something right).

The story is about Amir, the son of a rich Afghanistan man, and his friendship with their family servant’s son Hassan. Hassan belongs to a group of Afghanistans called Hazaras, which is one of the lowest social class in the country.

Amir and Hassan grew up together, played together and laughed together. They were the best of friends. Hassan was unwavering in his loyalty to Amir, more as a friend than a servant. Amir sometimes felt a little confused about their differences in social class, and teased or played jokes on Hassan using his knowledge and literacy.

When he was 12, Amir took part in a kite flying competition and Hassan was his assistant. Amir wanted so badly to emerge champion to earn his father’s love. Eventually, he managed to use his kite to cut the second-last-remaining one in the sky, and became the winner. He then got Hassan to run the kite for him. That meant to run and retrieve the fallen kite he had cut. Hassan was the best kite runner in Kabul, he promised to get the kite back, and he always kept his promise.

That was also the time when things between them changed. Forever.

Hassan retrieved the kite but on the way back he met three scoundrels in a dark alley. Hassan once stood up against them when they tried to beat Amir. The scoundrels wanted him to hand the kite over, but he remembered his promise to Amir, and he outrightly refused.

That infuriated the scoundrels, one said, “I’m letting you keep the kite, Hazara, I’ll let you keep it so it will always remind you of what I’m about to do.”

Hassan was then held down by two of them and raped by the third one.

All that was witnessed by Amir who went to find Hassan when he did not return promptly. He could have saved Hassan, but as he hid in the dark shadows, he watched his best friend being raped. He then ran away, because he was afraid to be hurt as well.

Both pretended nothing happened after that. But it was no use. Things have changed.

Both were emotionally scarred.

Amir could not bear to live with his guilt and he planted a theft offence on Hassan and “forced” him to leave the house. They never met again.

To me, this was one of the hardest part of the book to read, because it was so painful to carry on.

The story went on to describe Amir’s life when he moved to America with his father. The father-and-son relationship is another captivating part of the book.

Amir’s father is a character that is extremely riveting. At that time when war struck, he left his house in the care of an old friend Rahim, and he, cramped with Amir and other refugees in a big truck, left Afghanistan. At a checkpoint, a Russian soldier demanded a woman from the group as a price for letting them pass. As a righteous man with pride, Amir’s father stood up for the woman, much to everyone’s shock. He said, “Ask him where his shame is.” When faced with threats of being shot, he said, “Tell him I’ll take a thousand of his bullets before I let this indecency take place.” He could have died there and then, but fortunately another Russian soldier came by and stopped his comrade in time.

It is easy to be a hero in peaceful days, but to stand up against atrocities in war times, and risk losing your life, and even your family’s life, is no mean feat.

When Amir and his father moved to America, his father could not adjust to the life of working at a gas station. Amir could not bear to see him lose his smile and suggested moving back. His father dismissed it. “I didn’t bring us here for me, did I?” These touching words came from a father who would gladly and willingly sacrifice his happiness just for his beloved son.

26 years later at 38, the past finally caught up with Amir. By then Amir was already married and his father had passed away. When Rahim passed Amir a letter from Hassan, that was the first time he heard from him in 26 years. It turned out that some years back, Rahim had asked Hassan and his family to move in with him. In the letter, Hassan wrote about his wife and son, and asked Amir to visit his “old faithful friend” in their hometown.

However, by the time Amir read the letter, Hassan was already dead. He died because he protested when the Talibans tried to take over the house. He died trying to protect the house of his beloved friend from the forces of violence. His wife died alongside with him.

This ended the first part of the story, in which Hassan had sacrificed for Amir twice in his life, with the second time ending in death.

It is interesting to read about a story set in Afghanistan, where the lives of the people are a far cry from that in Singapore, where people struggled to triumph over life itself.

The second part tells of Amir’s entangled fate with Hassan’s son Sohrab. It is equally raw and excruciating, and you should really read it for yourself, so I shall leave the ending for you to find out.

P.S. I realized that the National Libraries have a lot of good books, if you know where to look. If you have no idea what books to choose, check out the recommended booklist at the libraries, that was how I found out about The Kite Runner!

Pictures of my trip

Blogger always gives me trouble when it comes to posting photographs, and I wonder why. Even as I am posting this, problems have occured. But finally, part of my Krabi-Trang-Hatyai trip pictures are successfully posted. Whew!

Unfortunately, the pictures I took of the scenery did not turn out good, so I shall share some little interesting snippets instead!

I took this picture at a durian plantation in Krabi. The lady was hard at work, opening up durians. And me? I am just responsible for the eating part!

One of the things you can do in Krabi--rock climbing. I hope to try it!

Have you ever seen a traffic light designed so interestingly?

The two brave girls (me and huimin) in the hot spring, it starting pouring right after this picture was taken!

"Long Live The King". This is what the wrist band reads, and it is quite easy to find Thais who wear this. The respect and love Thais have for their King is simply amazing. I am deeply impressed.

As a Da Chang Jin fan, I simply cannot resist taking a picture with Min Da Ren when I saw the show on television in Trang!, no matter how silly it looks!

The number of threads, pullers and stepping boards are enough to convince me that traditional cloth weaving is no mean feat. I am contented with just sitting at it for a second.

A group photograph we took at the Songkhla Beach with the mermaid icon which tells of an old legend where a fisherman once saw a mermaid combing her hair at the beach.

Once again, the playful nature in me could not resist taking another silly photograph!

And now, saving the best for the last....

The picture I took with the transvestite! Is she as pretty as I pen her out to be? Judge for yourself.

Theft the worst sin?

“There is only one sin, only one. And that is theft. Every other sin is a variation of theft.”

When I first read this, I thought it was a silly statement. That cannot be the case, I thought.

Then I read the second part, and things began to fit it. Things started to make sense.

“When you kill a man, you steal a life.
You steal his wife’s right to a husband, rob his children of a father.
When you tell a lie, you steal someone’s right to the truth.
When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness.”

I read this from a book titled “The Kite Runner” by Khaled Hosseini.

This part is about how Amir, a child in Afghanistan, had learned in school that Islam considered drinking a terrible sin and that those who drank would answer for their sin on the day of Judgement Day. He went home and told his father (who drinks) about what he learned. His father then told him rather solemnly about what he thought of sin.

I started reading this book today, and was fully captivated. One reason was the interesting quotes, (like that above) that got me thinking. The other reason was the moving, yet sad story of betrayal and salvation.

Shall tell you more about it when I finished reading.

Krabi-Trang-Hatyai

I just returned on Sunday from a 5D/4N trip to Krabi-Trang-Hatyai. It was a trip organized by Tourism Authority of Thailand (TAT) and Tiger Airways. In the group of 13, two are reporters, one is an editor from a magazine, two are representatives from TAT and Tiger Airways, and the other eight are from travel agencies.

I made an effort to pen down my thoughts along the trip. It started very well for the first three days, until it was disrupted due to my splitting headache on the fourth day, and I could not find time on the last day because of the tight schedule.

Here are the excerpts.

12th July 12.19am (Alone in a resort room in Krabi, just before I go to bed):

It’s the first time I wheeled my luggage and took the MRT on my own to Changi Airport. The last time when I went to Jeju does not count as my family and boyfriend were there to send me off. This time round, I really felt like a grown up. And come to think of it, I quite enjoy the feeling of going on a short trip alone, once in a while.

The feeling of ultimate independence-taking care of myself, going sight-seeing wherever I choose to, buying what I take a fancy to… there are simply no restrictions. In a nutshell, I can do whatever I like!

I particularly like the feeling of pulling my luggage along (like what air stewardesses do), strolling in the airport, it's just so cool!

14th July 12.03 am (Again alone in the resort room in Krabi):

There was a blackout. I was watching tv and packing my luggage when suddenly everything just went pitch dark. Surprising, I was unusually calm. I groped my way to the key holder and checked that it was properly placed. Soon a light came on but the rest of the lights were still out of order. Just then, my colleague came to knock at my door and asked what happened. When I told her I think it was a blackout, she muttered “scared me” and went back to her room.

I then moved slowly to the phone and called the reception. I was told that there was a blackout throughout the resort. About a minute later, the lights came back.

You know what kind of weird ghostly thoughts can come to one’s mind when you stay alone in a hotel room, and what’s more with a blackout! But somehow, I was so composed that I was quite amazed with myself when I thought about it later.

Earlier, our group had dinner with some representatives from the resorts in Krabi. I spoke to a man from Netherlands who came to work in Krabi six months ago. Caucasians are simply so polite. They say “nice to meet you”, “it’s my pleasure”, “how are you feeling”, “I hope you are feeling better” etc with such charisma. It just made one feel so much at ease. I find that Asians are not so used to saying such things, they prefer to come straight to the point instead of making small talk. And although I can say those too, but it somehow feels odd, and too much of it also makes one feel hypocritical. Perhaps Caucasians are so used to saying these that it comes so naturally, and that makes those hearing it feel comfortable too.

Krabi reminds me very much of Vang Vieng in Laos, where people go there for adventure, for kayaking through caves and for rock climbing. Krabi really brought back the sweet memories I had of Vang Vieng, when I went there with my community service expedition team four years ago.

14th July 11.06pm (In Trang):

I think the rain followed us the whole day. When we were on the bus, the weather was good. The moment we stepped out, it started raining. When we went to the fossil shell beach, I had only time to snap two pictures before running back to the bus due to the heavy downpour. When we reached the hot spring, just minutes later, it started pouring. We could not enter the dragon cave because the water level was too high after the rain, and it made the cave too narrow to pass through.

I think the best part of the day is the short adventure at the hot spring. I was the first one to waddle full-body into the waterfall, and there were only two of us in the entire group who did that. Most did not want to get themselves wet, some only soaked their feet in.

I do not know if I could call myself the adventurous type, but I just felt that since I was there, I should make the best of the opportunity and enjoy myself to the fullest. I was glad I did!

By the way, I was so excited when I saw the Korean drama show Da Chang Jin being screened on tv here in Trang. I did not know the Korean wave swept all the way over to Thailand!

15th July (In Hatyai):

I had a bad headache and slept very early. One thing to mention, I watched a transvestites’ song and dance performance for the first time. Some of them are so beautiful that I can only marvel at the success of their operation. I even took a picture with the prettiest one!

16th July (In Hatyai):

For the whole day we were rushing here and there and I could find no time to write. In the morning, we rushed to finish up our sightseeing of temples and tourist spots in Hatyai. In the afternoon, we rushed to check-out from the hotel and do some last minute shopping. In the evening, we rushed to board the plane back to Singapore. I arrived in Singapore an hour past midnight. Home sweet home!

When a Physics graduate meets a Nobel Prize winning Physicist

I have never felt so glad to be a Physics graduate, until last Saturday.

Because of the nature of my job, I had not been able to make use of my Physics background ever since I graduated. That day, with a stroke of luck, it was finally put to good use.

I was sent on an assignment to interview 1957 Nobel Prize winning physicist, 84-year-old American-Chinese Professor Yang Chen Ning.

Professor Yang won the Nobel Prize in Physics together with Lee Tsung-dao "for their penetrating investigation of the so-called parity laws, which has led to important discoveries regarding the elementary particles."

Professor Yang created a storm in 2004 when his marriage with 30-year-old Wen Fang was made known. Wen Fang who holds a masters degree in translation at the Guangzhou University of Foreign Studies, was then 28, and he was 82, thus coining the term “82-28” marriage. It was the second marriage for both.

Prof Yang, accompanied by Wen Fang, arrived in Singapore on Friday for a series of talks.

Being a big name and with a fully packed schedule lined up, Prof Yang could hardly spare time for media interviews.

My newsroom made arrangements for an interview with him late Saturday morning. However, as Prof Yang gave an interview to another newspaper over breakfast the same morning, there was a last minute change of plans—our interview might be cancelled or shortened to a mere 10 minutes.

Just 10 minutes? That was simply too little time for me to raise the questions I have and get the responses I need before time's up.

Dark clouds loomed over me as I waited in the hotel lobby for his other interview to end.

And then I noticed a familiar character. Professor Oh. He was a Physics professor whom taught me back in university. What a coincidence! We were both equally surprised to see each other. It turned out that he was supposed to bring Prof Yang and his wife for sightseeing this morning and he even introduced me to Prof Yang as his Physics student. That kind of helped to break the ice for the interview.

Even though Prof Yang and his wife were whizzed out from the interview after 10 minutes, Prof Oh allowed me to sit in his car while he drove the couple around Chinatown and Little India later on.

Imagine that!

I sat beside Prof Yang at the back of the car, while Mrs Yang sat in front. Because of this exclusive privilege, I was able to chit chat with them, and view a rare side of them, as they went on their first sightseeing experience in Singapore, including a photography trip to the Merlion.

Prof Yang's extensive knowledge in the history of Singapore, matters concerning neighbouring countries, culture and current affairs truly amazed me. He first came to Singapore in the 60s, but the memories remained so clearly etched in his mind, it is hard to imagine him being an elder in his 80s.

Wen Fang struck me as a gentle and intelligent lady with a soothing voice. Sometimes she listened silently as her husband spoke, and at other times she chipped in her ideas.

During our car trip, they chatted comfortably like any other normal married couple. They addressed each other as "darling" at ease, and held hands while they walked. Had it not been for their appearance, I would not have known they were miles apart in their ages. At one point in time during the interview, they even lovingly recited a poem they wrote together.

When I asked Prof Yang if Physics is the greatest love of his life, he said no, because there are a lot of other things in life. I asked, is his wife the greatest love of his life then? Prof Yang again answered no, although he stressed that his wife is the person he cared for most right now.

It appears that their love has transcended age boundaries. Although some people were and still are against their marriage due to their age gap, whether or not that is in itself a problem is really not up to outsiders to judge.

It seemed to me that in recent years, Prof Yang's love life has overshadowed his achievements in Physics, and I found that a real pity. Although his accomplishments would not, and should not be compromised by his union with a lady with a difference in age of 54 years, I cannot help but feel sorry for this wrong turn of media spotlight.

Surely there is a difference between being described as "the great man who won a Nobel prize" and "the Nobel Prize winner who married a young wife".

I wonder how he feels about this. That is a question which remains to be answered.

Here's what I call good service

I recently signed up for an OCBC bank account and applied for internet banking.

There were a lot of mailers sent to my home regarding banking, promotions and pin numbers etc after that. I find it a hassle dealing with such stuff and a pain reading all those information, and simply chucked them away.

However, when I needed to access internet banking later, I could not find the necessary documents. I then called up the OCBC hotline to enquire.

Over the past week, I called up three times, each time to ask about a different issue.

Just an hour ago, I made yet another call to them to enquire why I was unable to check my account online.

My call was answered by a customer service officer by the name of Eugene. He patiently explained to me what the reasons could be, and initially he told me to call back tomorrow morning after 8.30am, as it was only then that the configurations for the account could be reset. Later on, he checked and said he could do it for me over the phone.

He put me through a verification process and I was told (by a pre-recorded message) to key in my access code and pin number for phone banking. Eugene said that my line would be transferred back to him after the verification.

However, I keyed in the wrong access code which did not match the pin and could not pass the verification. Eugene then painstakingly clarified the correct method to key in the access code and pin and put me through the verification check again.

This time round, I keyed in the pin wrongly twice and used up the maximum number of chances to go through the verification process. My line to Eugene got cut off and it got connected to another operator Nicholas.

I had to explain my situation to him again and he too nicely listened and put me through the verification process. I did not know what came over me(!), but for the second time, I keyed in the wrong access code and pin! When my line went back to Nicholas, I asked him to let me try the verification test once again. I think I must have become too confused with keying in numbers that I made a mistake yet again!

My line got cut off and I then got transferred to a third operator. This time, a female operator (whose name I could not catch) took my call. Let's call her Nadia.

For the third time in 20 minutes, I had to run through my difficulties and why it did not work the first two times I tried. Like Eugene and Nicholas, Nadia patiently explained why I was unable to view my account online and advised me on the verification process.

Finally, I managed to get through the verification and Nadia said she would help me do the necessary and that I should be able to view my account online from tomorrow.

Although I had to go through quite a bit of phone transfers before things were eventually settled, I put down the phone with a smile on my face. What struck me was what Eugene, Nicholas and Nardia all had in common--good service.

I believe I am not the only blur and troublesome customer who calls up the the OCBC hotline, sometimes just to enquire about certain trivial issues. For the previous calls that I made, I found that the customer service operators were equally polite and sincere.

When they said they would call me back, they really did. When they said they would check out things and return my call within five minutes, they kept to their promise.

That felt really pleasant.

You might say that customer service officers are expected to answer calls with patience and courtesy as this is their job. But I have had rather bad experiences with operators from other companies that I think such good service should not be taken for granted.

Kudos to Eugene, Nicholas and Nadia!

$9.50 even before the taxi starts moving

Taxi operator ComfortDelgro announced today that it will raise taxi fares from next Monday (10th July).

The three main adjustments for Comfort, CityCab and Yellow-Top taxis are:

* Increase of flag-down fare to $2.50 (from $2.40).
* Increase surcharge for morning and evening peak hours (Mon-Fri: 7am to 9.30am/ Mon-Sat: 5pm to 8pm) to $2 (from $1).
* Adjust time and distance formula upwards: Trips less than 10 km will be charged at $0.10 for every 210m travelled (compared to 225 m now); For trips above 10 km, the charge will be $0.10 per 175m (compared to 200m now).

Now that the biggest taxi operators have made its move, others are likely to follow suit soon.

And it seems like very soon, only the rich can afford to take taxis.

Suppose it is 5pm on a Friday, you are in a rush to get out of the CBD area. You try to flag a cab but there are none in sight.

Desperate, you decide to book a cab.

Beware.

The moment the taxi arrives and you board it, even before the taxi moves off, you would have to pay sum of $9.50.

What? $9.50? Unbelievable, isn't it?

Here's how the mathematics goes.

Book a cab: $4
City Area surcharge: $1
Flag down- charge: $2.50
Peak Hour surchage: $2
=======================
Total : $9.50

And that excludes the possible ERP charges.

Of course, this is one of the extreme cases that can take place. Nevertheless, even without the booking fees and the City Area surcharges, with the taxi fare hike, one can be expected to pay at least $4.50 upfront when you take a cab during the peak hours.

Imagine that! $4.50 is enough to pay for a meal, and $9.50 is enough to feed one for a day!

I am not a regular taxi passenger so the fare hike does not affect me too adversely, but it is scary just thinking about the high cab fares.

For those who depend on taxis frequently, it would definitely add a bigger burden on them. But would they boycott taxis due of the increase in fare? Unlikely. No doubt cab companies would lose some customers, especially in the beginning, but the bulk lot of customers would still be there, no matter what. There is no way people can simply walk to reach their destinations, especially in a rush.

It is sad that people can do nothing to dispute the fare hikes. And no matter how the transport operators play the market, we can only end up being seeds on the chessboard.

Luckily for me, there is still the MRT.

But it seems like the MRT and bus fares are going to go up following the increase in the taxi charges. Sigh. What to do?

World Cup for the girls?

Sometimes, I find it odd hearing girls talk ever so passionately about soccer.

Especially when they know nothing much about the game, and yet they talk as if they know the world of it.

I do not mean that soccer is a men’s game and only men have the right to comment and criticize. There are girls who know their stuff too.

But it just somehow feels weird to see girls who know nuts about the meaning of off-side, the number of players and referees in a match etc, behave like they grew up watching soccer.

The words simply sound foreign.

It’s like a little girl trying to put on her mother’s heels and lipstick, and attempting to look like an adult.

It just does not fit.

This may sound harsh and critical, but people who try too hard and make a fool of themselves only appear pathetic.

Of course, it is the World Cup fever right now, and everywhere you hear conversations on how Germany has the highest chances to snatch the top spot, how Brazil will end up having a tough fight, and what a pity it was for Argentina.

You would be a frog living in a well if you do not catch up on the current sittings of the game the whole world is looking at.

Since the beginning of the World Cup, I have only watched one match—England’s first match against Paraguay. England’s fate is the only one I have interest in, for practical reasons being it the only team where I know of more than five players.

The soccer fever has not caught on me yet, and I doubt the feeling is going to come any time soon, though I might try to catch the finals, just to be in the sync of it all.

I wonder how some girls can suddenly feel so fanatical about a game they watch only once in four years. To please their husbands and boyfriends? To keep up with the craze? Not to feel left out? Or for plain amusement?

Anyway, for most, it’s just pure entertainment watching the World Cup. It’s perfectly fine and healthy for girls to sit back, relax and watch the game with the male comrades, just do yourself a favour, don’t make silly comments.