The Cold Shoulder

Early last week I awoke with a shoulder that refused to work and when I attempted to use it, proved to be extremely painful. I was apparently one of the 'lucky 2%' 0f the population that succumbs to an ailment called Frozen Shoulder or, if you want its medical title, adhesive capsulitis.

Until you lose the use of a limb you are never truly aware just how debilitating it can be. Everyday tasks become mountains to climb and sleep becomes elusive. I was never even aware such a condition existed but I have subsequently discovered scores of web sites dedicated to the subject.

I did however have one ace up my sleeve, in the form of a great physician, Dr. Toh who is based in the Camden Medical Centre (photo left) .

Toh Keng Kiat is one of the old school of doctors who actually listens to his patients and has the experience to provide sound advice. He is also very keen on using new technologies where they might assist and he hooked me up to the latest Japanese machine.
For those interested its full title is: ASIAS, AH 300 series, Encoded Electronics Therapy Equipment (see image below)

This amazing device provides pain relief and heals tissues etc. down to the basic DNA building blocks. It should not be confused with the much simpler electropulse massagers which simluate acupuncture techniques

Frozen shoulder can take months to correct but three sessions with the electropulse device have seen me regain more than 80% mobility in the past few days. The fact that I can type this blog entry is largely down to him.

In our conversations I also became aware that is a former Singaporean MP and he provides some interesting perspectives on the challenges that lie ahead for Singapore.

Dr Toh is a visiting consultant haematologist at Singapore General Hospital and also crosses the Causeway to tutor medical students at Monash's Johore Bahru campus in Malaysia. All in all a busy man and I consider myself lucky to be under his care.

Today is my first working Saturday in Singapore. The library is open from midday until 7pm each Saturday during the semester and we take it in turns on the management roster. It would be fair to record that we have not exactly been inundated with students thus far! In fact we are lucky if one appears at all.

With seven hours to kill I have taken the opportunity to update the Image Gallery I am building for the university. Our large screen television in the Library has also provided me with coverage of Aussie Rules and NRL games so time passed relatively easily.

I can now look forward to the Monday off and shopping in Singapore without the accompanying weekend crowds.

Avian Aspirations

In the late 70's I spent three years on contract working in the Eastern Highlands of Papua New Guinea. As so often happens, one remembers most of the more interesting times and forgets much of the rest. A highlight for me was a trip in my Landcruiser up the Highlands Highway to Wabag and a two night stay at the lodge there.

The lodge consisted of thatched huts and I recall that the tradionally-clad cook delivered an inspired western style three course meal complete with carrots in a white sauce. The other thing I vividly recall was a visit to a nearby nature reserve to view the many and varied Birds of Paradise.

I hadn't seen a Bird of Paradise since, until yesteday when we paid a visit to the Jurong Bird Park here in Singapore.

To get there we took the MRT to Boon Lay, the last stop on the line and then boarded the 194 bus from the interchange which is right next to the station. This took us directly to the park.

Having been in the museum / heritage business I am always judgemental when it comes to such attractions but I have to record that the $20 (which included a monorail ride around the park) admission price was well worth it.

Jurong Bird Park is a tastefully and thoughtfully operated attraction and conservation values are skilfully integrated into their displays. Be warned though, even with strategically placed fans, on a hot day such as it was yesterday it can be quite exhausting if you choose to walk everywhere.

The highlight is undoubtedly the huge Waterfall Avery (photo above) and this is also a very goood place to pause on your journey through the park as it offers a shady respite from the Singapore sun. If you are visiting Singapore, or are living here and have visitors, then a visit to the Jurong Bird Park is well worth the effort and a colourful introduction to tropical flora and fauna.

'Flamingo' watercolour - Jurong. Artist Roger Smith

We did not lunch at the Park and decided to have a look around the adjacent neighbourhood to see if there were dining alternatives. A walk across the car park from the Bird Park brought us to the Reptile Park and what a sorry state of affairs this former attraction was. It had obviously closed down sometime before and was rapidy decaying in the tropical environment. Only a small prawn restaurant survives nearby with a few locals fishing for their supper - yes you had to catch the prawns yourself.

The Reptile Park provides a salutory lesson for all attractions - that they either adapt or die. It is a lesson that no doubt the Jurong Bird Park is well aware of.

The Brilliantined Babu and Callisthenic Carol

I seem fated to sit down wind from people. If there is a seat at a bus stop and I am the sole occupant, invariably the next arrival will position themselves between me and the prevailing breeze.

As you may well presume there are disadvantages in this unfortunate juxtaposition, especially when the sun is at its zenith and my new neighbour has run breathlessly to catch the next bus.

There are products on the supermarket shelves of Asia that once similarly graced the groceries of the western world but no longer do so. Bay Rum is a classic fragrance that brings back childhood memories of barbershops and cut-throat razors. It is a fragrant toilet water with a long history and is made from the oil extracted from the leaves of the Bay tree.

Brilliantine (image left) is another that I had long forgotten but seems never to have gone out of fashion in parts of Asia . I have discovered that there are several different varieties and fragrances ranging from the century-old, Pashana Original whose principal binding ingredient is glycerine, to various others types with combinations of rosemary and sage, blended with castor oil.

Its overly-liberal use is much favoured by some members of the local Indian community and each morning I have a mildly obese gentleman with coiffured and slicked-down locks who obscures my view of oncoming buses.

Another morning favourite of mine is a Chinese lady I have affectionately christened "Callisthenic Carol". She makes her way to the bus stop with regimented regularity, timing her arrival so as to allow her to undertake a set of vigorous warm-up exercises behind the bus shelter. Her flailing arms and muted grunts of exertion are a marked contrast to the posture of the sedentary Babu.

Incidentally, I use the term Babu in its Indian derivation not that of the Taiwanese, where the same name is given to an icecream cart.

Using the public transport of Singapore is a great way to meet the real people of this country. The MRT is often too packed to take in the personalities and private cars tend to shield one from the rest of the world. Buses are our preferred mode of transport.

Yesterday we took the 970 bus to Holland Village. Up until then I had largely resisted any temptation to frequent expatriate haunts. Holland Village is one such location. Having come to Singapore to live with the locals, a visit to this part of town was not high on the agenda. However I must confess that the experience was enjoyable and a I succumbed to a large steak meal at the Hogs Breath Brasserie - they also served a large green salad on the side which was delicious.

And there wasn't the slightest whiff of Bay Rum anywhere!

Saucy Tales

Three days ago we held the last event for our university's orientation week - a traditional 'Aussie barbeque'. As with the cricket match mentioned in the previous posting, the barbeque further highlighted the cultural values of our Australian-sponsored institution in its new Singaporean environment.

As Singaporeans enjoy food of all varieties we were on to a winner before the first 'snarler' hit the embers. Most students would have experienced barbequed food but few would have tried the 'dinkum' Australian version.

I am pathologically ill disposed towards vegetarian food that attempts to masquerade as the 'real thing' and I include so-called vegetarian sausages in this aversion. At the barbeque three types of sausage were provided - beef, pork and vegetarian. The latter had the texture of sawdust and a taste to match.

Interestingly, at the event's conclusion the only food remaining in any quantity were the vegetarian sausages, which I guess tells us something.

There was another surprise as we prepared our food for consumption. Most aficionados of Aussie tucker will tell you that you can't have a sausage without tomato sauce to smother it. Most Kiwis will tell you exactly the same. Our food caterers entered into the spirit of the occasion by providing extra large bottles of sauce, or at least that is what we supposed them to be.

The first person in the food queue soon discovered that the providers had not completely understood the menu and had instead provided tomato juice. The result was a very sodden bun that was barely edible. Our salvation was the discovery of two bottles of the 'real thing' which someone else had kindly provided.

The barbeque was a great success and a credit to our senior staff, who entered into the spirit of the event and collectively turned their hands to operating the barbeques.

Today being a Sunday, we ventured out of our condo to have lunch in town.

At the risk of turning into yet another Singapore food blog, can I mention the Lao Beijing restaurant on the third floor of Plaza Singapura. "Lao" means old and this restaurant specialising in the simple, classical food of Beijing and Northern China.

Their handmade noodles were excellent with a nice firm texture and nourishing broth. I consider this luncheon further preparation for a trip later in the year to the Chinese capital.

Noodles have been around a very long time, well before the ubiquitous instant noodle graced our supermarket shelves. In 2005, archaeologists dug up the remains of neolithic noodles which were 4,000 years old.

Today's "lao" noodles were thankfully not as old as these!

Simply Not Cricket

I work for an Australian university that is establishing itself here in Singapore and this week is D Day (or more precisely "O" Week) when our first students arrive for their orientation.

Quite naturally we retain a certain 'Ozzie' flavour in our programmes and approach to education so it came as no surprise to see that a cricket match was scheduled as part of the week long activities. An invitation has been issued to any staff member who understands terms such "square leg" and "googly" to step forward and join the team.

Not surprisingly most of my Singaporean colleagues seem somewhat bemused by the cricket jargon and Australian fixation for this game.

This year I shall not be taking up the invitation to participate but shall cheer from the sidelines. There is a reason for this - my last cricket outing forty years ago ended in somewhat humiliating circumstances.

I was a fifth former at a New Zealand boarding school at the time and a good rugby player although only adequate at cricket. I came from a cricketing family and my father had been a provincial captain, so a I recall that in my infancy our family often travelled to cricket matches to watch my father's team compete. Very pleasurable memories they were to as the journey home often meant fish and chips wrapped in newspaper was the evening fare.

By the fifth form I had managed to wheedle myself into the Fourth Eleven. To celebrate this elevation my father bought me a pair of white leather cricket boots. Nowadays cricketers wear much lighter footwear but in the '60's heavy white, leather lace-ups where all the fashion and they had small metal sprigs in the sole for grip.

One had to install the sprigs oneself and I was given implicit instruction on where to place them and the need to hammer them firmly home. I spent considerable time positioning the sprigs and considerably less time hammering them in.

Came the day of the match on the Gully ground and I was ordered to bat in the middle order, such was the confidence of my team mates in my abilities. There were no artificial pitches in those days and the wicket was overlayed with mats made out of woven jute to protect the grass underneath.

My moment arrived with our team struggling to meet the opposition's first inning total and the need for a 'solid knock' from the middle order. I strode purposely to the crease, surveyed the surrounding fielding position and faced the first ball.

To my surprise, the opposing team's bowler was a worse player than I. His first ball was so slow that it allowed me to connect with it and hit it to the boundary - a most respectable 'four' was recorded and my team mates sat up and took notice. It would be stretching the truth to say that they were awe struck, but as they had never seen me score in this fashion before it was no doubt somewhat of a novelty.

Play continued with the odd darting run between the wickets and several other boundaries. I actually started to enjoy myself and was brimming with confidence as I reached a score of twenty six.

Could this be the start of a century partnership? Alas it was not to be.

The very next ball was delicately nudged past the slip fielders requiring a quick single between the wickets. It was at this moment that my ill-hammered sprigs ruined my ambition. Down the wicket I sprinted, bat in glove. Half way to my destination a loose sprig went through the weave of the jute, bringing me to an immediate halt. Such was my momentum that I pitched forward, midway down the wicket . Try as I might, I could not extract my boot from the jute and was run out.

Five minutes later after I had unlaced the boot and the groundsman had been called to extract it from the wicket, I limped off a cricket pitch for the last time, to the accompanying cat calls and hoots of laughter from friend and foe alike.

So this coming week I shall be watching from the sidelines and admiring the skills of my Indian colleagues as they and I enjoy the crack of ball on willow.

That is of course if it doesn't rain.