Lake Titiwangsa Sketch

Today turned out to be a bright day for sketching, so when I passed by Lake Titiwangsa on my home, I decided to see if I could do a few sketches of the place.

I  like the view from the eastern end with the city skyline as the backdrop. However, this is one view I hated doing because of the complicated shapes of the various buildings that came up over the years.

This time, I decided to tackle it as closely as possible, registering every structure - minus the details - that I possibly can. Using a gel pen helps a lot because the paper of this cheap sketchbook I bought at Kinokuniya Bookstores don't take too kindly to fountain ink - it spreads the ink like cauliflower.

I painted the piece and later decided to drop in some colours just in case I wanted to paint the scene in large watercolour sheets.

Took me 20 minutes it in - very slow!

Colour added. 

I also managed to sketch the messy greenery (below) at left of me from the same sitting position. I wanted to record the scenery of this huge angsana tree that must be over 30 years old.Not only was it providing shade, but also hosted several parasitic plant life, including a bird's nest fern and a strangler fig which is now deeply rooted.

Greenery is always challenging - you get to see how your greens are mixed and behave on paper.

Make Your Own Sketching Tool Case

Looks deceptively professional? No, this  came from an old school bag which I recycled.

I made this sketching tool case from an old school bag which had served my daughter for many years. Although one side was torn due to age, the other side's fabric was in good condition. Instead of throwing it away, I recycled it.

I cut out the good side, sew on the trimmings so that the sides don't fray, and gave it a new life as a  sketching tool case. You can buy better looking cases out there but I prefer to customise mine for my own needs.

Not much to look at but it serves me well. 

It is not difficult if you know how to use a sewing machine. As you can see, I used the regular straight stitch to sew the case and then applied overlapping zigzag stitches to sew the compartments for the brushes. I fixed a strip of velcro so that the cover of the case can be closed to prevent the brushes from sliding out when moving about.

Zigzag stitch features are available in most sewing machine options.
If you dont have this feature, you can also use a straight stitch.

Because of the size of my sketching tool case (slightly smaller than A4 when folded), I could only fit five compartments for the brushes, pencils, and pens. You can make more as you wish. I have also created a small compartment to fit my Winsor and Newton watercolour field set.

A compartment for my Winsor and Newton field set

Try making one from old bags and recycle.

Make Your Own Sketchbook

Today I made myself a sketchbook, measuring 6in by 9in. I was not happy with those I found at the art shops because of the quality and thickness of the paper. And most of all the price.

So I went to town, grabbed several sheets of heavyweight 300gsm art paper, cut them into the sizes I needed and used coptic stitch to bind them together. The only cost incurred were that of a needle, a ball of thick cotton thread, a hole puncher, time and energy.

My coptic-stitched sketchbook with a close-up of the stitching. 

If you wish to make your own sketchbooks, there are many resources on the web that you can seek out. I won't duplicate them here, but you can check on Youtube for some really good ones. The methods are more of less the same.

So, if you are not sketching or painting, or visit galleries, try making one because it provides a nice distraction from your usual activity. I suggest making a few because that will help you remember the stitching process which may look easy but only if you are familiar with the steps. Make a few in various sizes, both for yourself and your friends. It will be a fulfilling activity, I'm sure.

Why I prefer coptic stitched sketchbooks is because when opened, the facing pages can be quite flat and suitable for drawing panoramic views.

Capturing spirit of the place

Ong with one of his pieces.

SINGAPOREAN master watercolourist Ong Kim Seng is back with another solo show in the capital.

Entitled Different Lands in Watercolour, the exhibition, which is being held at Interpr8 Art Space in Publika Mall, is the artist’s second solo in Kuala Lumpur after his first in 2005.

This time, the 69-year-old artist is showcasing 29 exquisite pieces painted plein air at locations such as Bali in Indonesia, Kathmandu in Nepal, Singapore and Malaysia.

Ong, who has several international accolades under his palette, including honours from the American Watercolour Society (AWS), has also authored a number of books, including bestseller Mastering Light and Shade in 2003.

Fishing boats in Sekinchan.

Ong, who has been painting since he was a child, did not consider painting as a full-time profession until 1978 after a Nepali friend threw him the challenge to paint the Himalayas. He not only accepted the invitation but went on to churn out more than 30 paintings in the harshest of weather conditions.

“Painting the Himalayas in 1978 in sub-zero temperatures was a most memorable experience for me,” said Ong, who described himself as a “non-outdoor person”.

“The low temperatures turned water into ice and hardened the bristles of my brushes.

An atmospheric piece of a village in Ubud

“On many occasions, I had to turn back because of the biting cold and lack of oxygen,” he said.

The paintings, which were later exhibited in a one-man show in Singapore, found a warm reception. Eighty per cent of the works were snapped up, with some fetching more than S$2,000 (about RM8,100).

Today, Ong’s works adorn the walls of huge corporations and world-class hotels in Singapore and the region. His list of collectors comprise famous personalities, including former United Nations secretary-general Kofi Annan and Queen Elizabeth II.

Some of his works have gone under the gavel of renowned art auctioneers, including Hong Kong’s Sotheby’s and Christie’s in Singapore. In China, where Ong has exhibited numerous times, his works have also drawn a loyal following.

In the “Different Lands in Watercolour” exhibition, Ong’s fans will be treated to a dazzling display of the artist’s signature style of pitting light against shade in vibrant earthy tones in his visual diary of his travels.

Ubud market at noon.

From the dusty streets of Kathmandu to pre-war shop houses in the heart of bustling Kuala Lumpur and heritage enclaves of modern Singapore, Ong’s pieces come alive under the spotlight. They give the viewer a glimpse of a moment in time frozen by the artist’s masterly brushstrokes.

One can almost hear the rustling of the distant palm trees in a traditional village in Ubud, feel the dust kicked up in a quiet back alley in Kathmandu, or feel the heat of the morning as the sun sets old shop houses in Kuala Lumpur aglow.

“You have to paint on location to capture the spirit and atmosphere of your subject,” Ong said.

“You can paint from photographs but it will not have the same feeling.

“When you paint plein air, you are out there, experiencing all that is around you — the smell, heat, and the sounds.

“All these make their way into your paintings,” said Ong who has three children.

He said his daughter, Dora, was following in his footsteps.

“The rest are in other professions because I think they are afraid of the hard life I had to go through as a painter,” he said with a laugh.

Ong, who lives with his wife in Singapore, is kept busy with his schedule of exhibitions. This November, for instance, Ong will be exhibiting his Singapore street scenes at the nation’s Art Fair. And, if he is not out painting in a street corner, he will be imparting his skills to his students.

The exhibition ends on Oct 31.

Interpr8 Art Space is at Block C5, Level G4, Lot 20, Publika Mall, Jalan Solaris Dutamas, Kuala Lumpur. For details, call 012-395 2081.

Poetry of Light

A chance meeting with artist Smith S. Lynn on Facebook led to my friendship with him and this story when he was in KL to do his show:

Smith S. Lynn

YANGON-BORN artist Smith Sein Lynn is holding his fourth solo show here until the end of the month.

A graduate of Rangoon University and trained at the Academy of Art Dresden, Germany, Smith (as he is fondly known in the art circle) is a full-time artist and arts lecturer. He also operates an art school in Bangkok, where he has been based for the last two decades.

In this show entitled "Poetry of Life", Smith celebrates the environment around where he lives and pays tribute to the people he has met and the places he has been to during his travels.

In this showcase of over 50 works done in oil, watercolour and mixed media, Smith shows his mastery of the mediums with creations ranging from traditional to contemporary pieces. The soft-spoken veteran artist, who is already 72, has participated in close to over 200 solo and group shows in Southeast Asia and Europe over the past 25 years.

VERSATILE RANGE: Artist Smith Sein Lynn showcases his mastery in works done in oil, watercolour and mixed media

The awards he has won, which are as diverse as his works, include the Philip Morris ASEAN Art Awards 2001/2002, the Asean Art Awards 2012 and the Finalist's Award bestowed by International Artist Magazine in 2003.

Smith, whose Burmese name Sein Lynn means "Light of the Diamond", says he is captivated by life around him in general and translates what he sees and experiences in his works of realism, transporting the viewers into a fast vanishing world of indigenous people and faraway places.

He started painting in watercolour many years ago, and now does mostly oils.

When looking at both his watercolour and oil paintings, one cannot help but be awed by his keen eye for detail, especially for an artist of his seniority.

Affection

In the piece entitled Affection, an old lotus collector is seen resting with her grandson, leaning against the stump of a fallen tree. The precise placement of light and shade not only brings out the texture of the parch ground and the dried tree stump, but also provided a remarkable contrast between the complexion of the old lady and the boy as unveiled by the strong light.

A viewer who noticed streaks of purple in this piece asked Smith about their presence. She wondered if they were merely spontaneous strokes.

"The colour represents the spiritual life of these people," Smith said. "In this part of Thailand, there is very little rain and the weather is very hot. Life is very tough here. It is their strong spiritual life that sees them through their challenging days.

"This old woman and her grandson were on the way to the market to sell the lotus flowers they had collected. I painted them taking a break to rest, capturing that moment of affection between grandmother and grandson, before they start their journey again."

In all Smith's pieces -- whether they are watercolour paintings of fishing villages in Penang or oil pieces of Thai monks making their way to the monastery -- they are full of drama created by the presence of light, often gently hinting the time of the day and setting the mood.

In Studying Nun, light streams from an unseen window or doorway to not only illuminate the book in the hands of the nun but also reveals the exquisite carvings on the temple wall which immediately conjures a mood of reverence.

In Monks and the Monastery, two young monks are featured sharing an umbrella and heading out of a monastery, possibly to seek alms. Their calm faces exude a feeling of tranquillity and freedom from worldly worries. This mood is further enhanced by the presence of three white pigeons near the feet of the monks.

Monks and Monastery

In this piece, the hot day is depicted on the almost-white sunshine-drenched stone statues, enhanced by the contrasting cast shadows (in light blue). The heat of the day is strengthened by the brown glow of light that filters through the paper umbrella, onto the heads and shoulders of the saffron-robed monks. The placement of reflected light from the ground onto the monks' chins and cheeks in this piece reveals the artist's understanding of light and his mastery of colour values.

In Washing Woman (80cm by 100cm, oil on canvas), a cigar-smoking middle-aged woman is seen washing clothes by the stream. The feel of the mid-morning light is hinted with streaks of white across the woman's shoulder, head, and hands, and well-placed specks of more white on the surface of the water around the woman depict swirling eddies of moving water.

The biggest piece on this show is Smith's Swan Lake, a triptych of 100cm by 240cm, depicting modern ballet dancers dancing their way into the past. Done in oil using a variety of luminous colours, the dancers come alive under special lighting .

For Smith's fans who have been following his series of the Padaung girls, there are a few in this show, too. One is the Lovely Padaung Girl (100cm by 150cm) and another features three of the ethnic women bathing in a stream.

Smith's exhibition at Younie Gallery ends on June 30. The gallery is at 64, Jalan Kuantan. Opening hours are 11am to 6pm. The gallery is closed on Tuesdays. 

Colours of Ong’s Life

(Review of Watercolourist Ong Kim Seng's Book Mastering Light and Shade in Watercolour, published in the NST in August 26, 2006)

THIS is definitely not a book on watercolour painting for beginners.

But if you have mastered the basics, then Mastering Light And Shade In Watercolour will surely make a good reference.

Master watercolourist Ong Kim Seng does not waste time with the nitty-gritty in his book. Instead he sweeps you off in a single stroke to a visual adventure on his type of vibrant watercolour techniques.

The watercolour pieces that Ong painted from his overseas trips are visual delights.

This 128-paged hardcover is a storehouse of painting tips and styles that you will discover as the renowned Singaporean painter takes you through the intricate aspects of the aqua medium.

In Chapter One, under Tools of Expression, Ong briefly skims through the brushes, colour and paper - three key areas that most watercolour instruction would cover in boring detail.

Not Ong. Here, he only tells you the essentials not as an instruction but perhaps as a anecdote, sharing with you about the types of brushes he uses, the paper he prefers and his palette of colours, stopping short at the brand.

If you wondered why he didn't share with you his favourite brands - as I have seen in many watercolour instruction manuals written by art mentors of the west - perhaps this might enlighten you: "I prefer moist tubes but I don't stick with one particular brand because I like experimenting with colours from different paint companies.

Sometimes working with only one brand can create an overdependence on that brand and if through circumstances some colours are no longer available, this can be frustrating." Chapter Two takes the reader on a journey of discovery of how Ong deals with his works in specialist topics such as how light and shade (or shadow), tone, colour, contrast, shape, size, line, texture, and perspectives, can add life and vibrancy to your painting.

The light conversational-style of instruction, peppered with anecdotes of real-life situations Ong encountered during his painting trips, makes this book a gem, as much as the colourful pieces he did.

Ong starts each section with an Action Plan segment - a summary of possible options to take before you lay the first wash. These are crucial signposts that will lead you through the thicket of techniques about to be revealed in each of his work - be it composing for luminosity and contrast or working with shadow shapes.

To ensure easy understanding of the nature of light and luminosity, Ong indicates the direction of the streaming sunlight in each of the painting in discussion.

He also teaches you how to approach your initial sketch of the scene you are about to paint with a shadow plan - something I do not find in most watercolour painting books that I have read.

Although the main theme is about mastering light and shade, which are hallmarks of the artist's works, Ong shares more than just the technicalities of watercolour painting with his readers.

He also talks about true-life experiences that are hard to come by unless you paint outdoors often.

For instance, in one of the chapters, where the author talked about his work entitled Village in Peliatan, Bali, he said: "I was watched by a pack of dogs barking from a distance. I often carry a pack of biscuits with me when I paint outdoors, and I gave them a few to pacify them. They stopped their barking and I was able to paint." Such an anecdote (lots of them in this book) is invaluable to artists embarking on plein-air sessions.

Chapter 8: Critiquing Your Work is a revelation. Says the artist: "Knowing how to judge your work is just as important as knowing how to paint. It is best to critique your work by yourself and not seek the views of others. The moment you seek advice means you are not sure where the fault lies." And he goes on to teach how you can narrow down possibly problematic areas and improve or even salvage your work. This chapter rounds up the first theoretical half of the book before Ong embarks on the hands-on section.

There are altogether 10 interesting demonstrations by the artist, each showing how he approached the subjects he discussed in the earlier chapters.

Each of these shows the different stages of work - from sketch to final painting - and how each scene, under different climatic condition, is painted, step-by-step.

Although there are many watercolour instruction books, this one is unique not because it was written by a renowned artist who has won many international awards but because it is by an Asian artist.

I say this because most watercolour instruction books are authorised by artists in the West, who for most part of their lives, lived and painted in a much different climate - unlike in the tropics where colours are much more vibrant, livelier and brighter.

To paint the colours of the tropics in a medium as challenging as transparent watercolour, one needs to master the light and shades in scenaries that we are so familiar with.

 This Ong has done remarkably well.

Mastering Light and Shade in Watercolour will certainly make a good companion and an indispensable guide to any watercolourist embarking on his painting journey
.

Maamor weaves magic with his brush

IF you watch Maamor Jantan at work, you will think that there is magic in his brush, for works of art seem to flow effortlessly out of it. The watercolourist usually paints without lengthy preparatory sketches or reference materials. But when his first stroke hits paper, you will see his mastery of the medium.

Whether it is a misty morning scene in Ubud, Bali, an evening panorama of a coastal village in Kelantan, or even a night scene of village folk cooking lemang on the eve of Raya, the artist paints with amazing speed.

As colours and tones are loosely laid in a variety of shapes and lines, the viewer is mesmerised and led into dream-like undulating landscapes filled with beauty. Just when the viewer thinks that is all, surprises await.

The profile of an earthen jar buried in the shadows; resting dragonflies camouflaged in thick foliage; or silhouette of crabs on rocks outlined by the setting sun are but some of the familiar things which will trigger fond memories of one's experiences.

Maamor, the eighth in a family of 10 children, was born in Kulim, Kedah, in 1961.

His family moved to Kuala Lumpur in the mid-1970s when his father, a policeman, was transferred to the city. It was at Setapak High School that Mrs Chin Peng Weng, Maamor's art teacher, inspired his first strokes in art.

"She always encouraged me regardless of what I drew or painted," said Maamor fondly."She told me to follow my heart and paint with colours that give mood to my paintings."

But the artist did not paint seriously until the early 1980s. After leaving school, he found a job at a framing shop. It not only brought him into contact with artists and collectors, but also reignited his interest in art.

"Back then my paintings were not outstanding," Maamor said with a laugh. "They were nice but hardly professional-looking. My turning point came in 1984 when my friend Raja 'Man Banting' Harman gave me a box of Rembrandt watercolours.

"When I painted with them, I saw the stark difference in my work. A prominent artist who saw my progress was so impressed that he said I had already become a professional."

The artist was none other than Khalil Ibrahim, who became Maamor's close friend and mentor, and with whom he shared many moments in later years, travelling, sketching and painting.

Without a formal art education, Maamor learned by watching nature and other artists at work. Through observation, he developed a keen eye for detail.

"Recently, I was in the vicinity of Gunung Jerai. While watching the setting sun splash its colours across the landscape, I suddenly realised that those were the very colours I had so frequently used in my works.

"I must have come across such moments a thousand times before without realising it and the colours must have somehow got etched in my mind subconsciously," he said. "Now, I know why I instinctively reach out for certain colours when I paint and how I am able to paint anything with such ease."

While painting is easy for the artist, his life's journey has been a series of challenges. Born at a time when artistic pursuits were frowned upon, his family members frequently asked why he was not interested in getting a regular job although they never discouraged him.

Maamor had two women to thank for his success. They stood by him as he worked in pursuit of his dream. One was his mother, and other, his wife Dila Ahmad.

According to Dila, she has lost count of the hardships they faced, save for one incident which is etched in her memory."At that time, we needed money to tide us over a very difficult period. A collector had told us he was interested in Maamor's work, so we took the bus all the way from Kundang to his home in Shah Alam," said Dila."But when we arrived at his house, he said he would only pay RM50 for the piece we had brought him. We had never felt so insulted."

The painting was not sold but later framed and kept as a reminder of that day."Today, I wouldn't sell it for RM5,000," said Dila. "Its sentimental value is priceless."

Although things are looking up for the artist, with his works sought after by many, life is still not easy. With their teenaged son and daughter in college, tightening their belt is still a daily routine for the couple. They are also saving up for the renovation of their small house in Kundang for Maamor to have a bigger area to work in, and more importantly, to invite his ageing mother to live with him.

Since last year, the artist has kept himself busy as a resident artist at the University of Malaya Art Gallery. Although Maamor has exhibited extensively in group shows locally and abroad, his friends have often wondered why he has yet to do a solo.

"A solo should mark an artist's mastery of his medium, not merely a showcase of what he has produced. This can only come about once an artist has consolidated all his experiences and skills," he said.

Asked when he would be holding his, Maamor, who recently celebrated his 51st birthday, said: "Soon, God willing."

Maamor is having a joint exhibition entitled "Faces" at the University of Malaya Art Gallery (UMAG) with artists Dr Wong Seng Tong, Yong Look Lam, and Calvin Chua until Nov 29. The gallery is on Level 5 of the Chancellery Building. Opening hours are 9.30am to 4.30pm; Mondays to Fridays. For details, call 03-7967 3780.

For life is for living and loving

OVER the last long weekend, I took my family to visit my friend Chris at his farm in Port Dickson.

My wife and I had decided to take a family holiday before my eldest daughter started her medical studies at the varsity next month.

The trip was also for my wife and I to catch up with Chris, whom we  had not met since he retired.

When we arrived at the farm, Chris had just returned from shopping for supplies in town. As we helped him to unload and carry the bags into the farm house, I saw how clearly excited my daughters were by the sight of the motley crew of farm animals -- some in enclosures and some roaming freely and peaceably.

Their excitement brought back cherished memories  of the fishing trips and long drives into the countryside that I took them on when they were in primary school -- trips that grew less frequent  as they entered secondary school that meant important examinations to study for and more school activities.

That afternoon,  it dawned on this father how fast time had flown.

At the farm, my daughters fed the ostriches and goats. They took pictures with the turkeys, guinea fowls, Silkies and rabbits. They even managed to coax the wild baby macaque, which the farm hands had named Gigi, into posing for a photo.

My wife was impressed by how tame and friendly the farm animals were. I said that could only be the result of  the care and kindness shown to them by the farm hands. Animals (unlike some people, sadly) know when they are loved and they will reciprocate that love with obedience and loyalty.

A couple of donkeys grazing at the far end of the farm came trotting up at Chris's call. So did the ostriches and a month-old kid in the goat pen. Even Gigi was feeding off Chris's palm like a small child as he spoke to it.

I was amazed how the animals seemed to understand him. It was like a scene out of Dr Doolittle.

My wife asked me how much it cost to run a farm. It must be quite a sum, I said. But to turn a piece of wilderness into a genuine haven for animals and a sanctuary for nature lovers like Chris had so admirably achieved must have cost much, much more.

As we were driving back to the hotel that evening, my wife commented that Chris did not look a day older than when we last saw him.

I said he must have found and drank of the fountain of youth at the farm. Plenty of fresh air and sunshine and none of stress would have formed part of the recipe of that sweet beverage.

But the most potent ingredient in that elixir must be his passion for his work. For if he did not love what he did, he would not be able to toil daily  at the farm, where some of the duties can be back-breaking, much less grow seemingly younger  while working harder than ever.

I have read that people who live their lives with passion are always full of energy and enthusiasm. They are also a joy to be with.

So is it any wonder that someone like Chris does not seem to age? Even Time, who waits for no man,  will stand still to watch this particular man living his life with such happiness and contentment!

On the opposite end, those who do not love life will have much to complain about. Instead of filling their  waking hours with dreams and hope, they invite fear, jealousy, suspicion and hate into their hearts, where they fester and corrode the soul.

They are throwing away the precious little time we have to live, love and be loved. And that is a tragedy.

Dear readers, I am taking a break from writing this column to pursue my long-neglected passion for art. If you have been following this column for the last four years, thank you for your support. My parting words to you are: Take care. And don't let modern life make you forget to how to live.

It's good move to clear one's table after meal

A COMPANY canteen across the road from our office where my colleagues and I go for lunch has just implemented the "clean up after you eat" ruling recently.

I was not aware of it after not having been there for several weeks. When I was at the canteen recently, several notices  in Mandarin caught my attention, so I asked one of my colleagues what they were about.

My colleague said the notices requested patrons to clear their tables after meals. Pails were placed in the dining area.

Those who had finished eating, I noticed, would dutifully clear their tables of the utensils and put them in the pails.

Prior to this, a canteen worker used to go around cleaning the tables. Whenever there was a large crowd, two workers would be assigned to the task so that those who had just come in to take their meals would have a place to sit and eat.

Someone said the canteen was facing manpower shortage and the new ruling was put in place. It was the most intelligent thing I have seen in an eatery. The few days that my colleagues and I were there, not one person disobeyed the ruling. After their meals, patrons would drop the dirty plates, forks, spoons, and cups into the pails. Those who were not aware of the ruling were gently reminded to do so.

I remember at one time, fast food restaurants used to ask patrons to do the same. Those who had finished eating would clear their tables and drop trays of leftovers into a special bin. Whenever I saw diners at fast food restaurants clearing their own tables, I will praise their good habits to my children and urged them to do the same.

These days, such scenarios are rare. In many fast food restaurants I have been to, most customers order, eat and just leave their leftovers and dirty plates  on the table to be cleared by the waiters and waitresses.

The reason many are not clearing the tables is because they think that cleaning the tables is part of the restaurant's service.

An excuse given by many people I asked is that if one has to pay service tax, then why should one do the restaurant operator's work? They failed to see, however, that the simple act also reflects civic mindedness.

For example, like one incident I witnessed in a fast food outlet at MRRII some time back. This fast food restaurant, which is located near the Karak highway, was understaffed.

The kitchen and counter crew members had been trying to cope with a sudden surge of customers that morning when a woman customer stormed into the premises and demanded that a table that she had chosen for her family be cleared.

When the counter staff said that it would be done as soon as someone was available, the woman raised her voice and berated the chap, before giving a lecture on good service. She even threatened to report the matter to the management if no one cleared the table.

Finally, not wishing to create a scene, the counter staff member apologised to the customers waiting in queue so that he could clear the table for the angry woman.

As the woman walked after the staff member to her table, an elderly gentleman in the queue muttered "kurang sopan" (lacking in manners) rather loudly. I was sure the woman heard it.

But whether the remark had embarrassed her sufficiently to make her think twice about being inconsiderate the next time she walks into a fast food restaurant, who knows?

Quest for authentic Penang street food

IF you were to ask me where you can find the best nasi dagang in the country, I will say in Terengganu. At the risk of being accused of bragging about my home state, I will also add that if you have tasted Terengganu nasi dagang, you will crave for no other.

Don't get me wrong. There is also the Kelantan nasi dagang, which comes pretty close to the Terengganu variety in terms of taste, but I still think Terengganu's is still better. The secret is in the rice -- Kelantan uses brown rice while Terengganu uses long grain white Siamese rice.

Steamed to perfection in coconut milk with fresh shallots, ginger and halba (fenugreek seeds) in a special steamer that can only be found in Terengganu, the nasi dagang has few equals. And once you have taken a whiff of the steaming hot rice just brought out of the steamer, you will remember it for a long time.

If you have eaten it with gulai ikan aya (local tuna) cooked with belimbing besi  Terengganu-style, I think you will not want to waste your time with other nasi dagang variants. In fact, I would be terribly offended, just like the Penangites were a few weeks ago, if someone were to tell me that Terengganu nasi dagang is not the best.

Did you read about VirtualTourist.com's ranking of  Penang in its Top 10 Best Street Food Cities? Its placement of the Pearl of the Orient, third after Bangkok and Singapore,  had ruffled quite a number of feathers in Penang. Even feuding Penang politicians have put aside their differences to defend their gastronomic pride.

But I agree with Penang people that the state has few rivals where street food is concerned. If it does not claim top spot, no one should. Really, it doesn't take discerning palates to acknowledge Penang as the region's street food paradise. The fact that you can find Penang food from Alor Star to Johor Baru --and some say even in Ho Chi Minh city --   is testimony enough. After all, how many  countries can lay claim to its indigenous dishes like Penang?

You don't hear many types of Singapore food being sold outside Lion City, do you? Save for Singapore beehoon (or Sing Chow Mai in Cantonese for  vermicelli fried with beansprouts and tomato sauce) and the Singapore rojak, I have tasted no other bearing the Lion City brand in Klang Valley hawker centres.

But visit any food court here and look for Penang assam laksa, lor bak, char kway teow, pasembur, or nasi kandar, and chances are that you will find one or two stalls professing to be from the island or Prai. If this is no indication of Penang's fame for street food, what is?

Penang's only problem, I think, is the popularity of its street food. There are so many Penang assam laksa, char kway teow, and pasembur these days that my taste buds are beginning to lose track of how the original, authentic ones tasted like anymore.

So these days, when I frequent the so-called Penang food stalls, I test to see if the food is sold by an authentic Penangite.

I will casually ask: "Loo see Peneng lang?" (You are from Penang?) and if I get answers like: "See la, gua Poolau Tikoos lai!" (Yes, I come from Pulau Tikus) or "Gua tua tsua khar lai" (I come from Bukit Mertajam), I will know that I am on the right food trail. But again you can't tell.

Last week, a "Penang lor bak" stall operator in a Kepong hawker centre surprised me when I threw the test question. The Chinese-looking lady responded in perfect Penang-Hokkien -- that she came from Medan.

Apparently, Hokkiens there speak a similar sounding  dialect. She was in fact manning the stall for a chap from Balik Pulau in Penang

More women riding motorcycles

DID you notice an increase in the number of women motorcyclists in the city lately?

The next time when you are on the road, keep a lookout for them. I know  there are more of them than, say, five years ago.

A decade ago, few women would consider riding a motorcycle in the city. Many considered it dangerous, and many more considered it unladylike.

The only places you could find women motorcyclists in those days were   small towns such as Malacca and Penang, where traffic was sparse and the only threats to motorcyclists were cyclists and stray animals.

But thanks to the debut of scooters, every woman can now enjoy the freedom of mobility that comes with owning a B2 licence. Even those wearing high heels or the tightest skirts can now ride as elegantly as she should be when seated.

Convenience could be one reason why women ride scooters and motorcycles in the city, I think. Perhaps it is due to rural-urban migration that more of the fairer sex are taking to motorcycles. Of course, there could be other reasons.

A family friend rides a motorcycle to work because she has to pick her son up from school and send him home each afternoon. She figured it was faster to ride a motorcycle from her place of work to the school and send him home during  lunchtime, before rushing back to the office. To drive would have taken her twice as long.

A female school leaver who had just obtained her first job said she needed her own transport. Her position as an advertising sales executive requires her to be highly mobile, and with the daily jams in the town centre where her office is located, it was easier to ride a scooter than drive a car. The savings she obtained would be used for paying for  stuff like expanding her wardrobe or shoes. Of course, the price many women motorcyclists are paying, she adds, is that of a fragrance with a base note strong enough to overcome the smell of smoke and exhaust fumes caught on the blouse.

While women motorcyclists are a welcome sight for sore eyes because most of them ride better than  men, some are riding with the recklessness of their male counterparts. They are not Minah Rempit - the feminine version of the notorious Mat Rempit or hellriders -- but your neighbourhood kakak, makcik or ah soh.

Last week, while stopping at the Jalan Travers pedestrian walk, a women motorcyclist who was still sporting the probationary "P" licence shot through even though the traffic lights had turned red and all vehicles had stopped. She almost knocked into an elderly man crossing the strip and could have injured him and herself badly had the man not jump out of the path.

On one morning, a woman biker almost ended up being trapped between a garbage truck and a Rapid KL bus in Jalan Bangsar. Her impatience with the slow-moving traffic had caused her to weave in and out of the lanes when  miscalculation led to  her being caught in a tight spot between the heavy vehicles.

If the driver of the garbage truck  had not been alert and  managed to stop in time, she would have been crushed when the bus veered left to stop at a bus stop ahead.

I have also seen many women riders who ride  in the blind spot of drivers (the area diagonally left of the driver's seat which is difficult to see unless the car's rear and side mirrors are properly adjusted). Any sudden left turn by the driver could easily result in a crash.

The right to ride may be universal, but on the road, chivalry is almost dead. Some male motorists don't even give way to  men, let alone to women.  Female motorcyclists have only themselves to blame if they continue to throw caution to the wind. The price to pay will be much higher than that of losing  fragrance in the traffic.

Time to fine our 'well-educated' litterbugs

LAST week, a remark by a community leader in Bukit Bintang caught my attention. In welcoming the new KL mayor, Datuk Ahmad Phesal Talib, the community leader identified three critical issues that he claimed needed the prompt attention of City Hall.

One of the issues was cleanliness. He suggested education as the solution to littering.

I was amused when I read it. His suggestion made me wonder -- can anyone teach the city's litterbugs any more than what they have already been taught?

The chap has obviously been oblivious to the many cleanliness campaigns held in the city under various names, including corporate social responsibility and gotong-royong.

Have we not seen enough posters discouraging people from dirtying our surroundings? How many of these have ended up in the drain, literally and figuratively speaking? Have we not been urged enough by the radio and the TV to love cleanliness? Still, we are in an uphill battle against the rising mound of garbage in the city.

Take a look around you. I am sure you will be able to catch litterbugs, as innocent as they come, red-handed. For instance, smokers who throw cigarette butts onto the road, who, when you catch them in the act, quickly grind the smouldering stumps with their shoes, as if they are doing you a favour by preventing a fire.

Have you ever walked by the gaming outlets and seen how the used paper gaming foils litter the outlet and its surrounding areas? Ever asked why none of the gaming companies have come up with recycling bins for punters who have failed to strike it rich to at least do some good for the environment?

Visit any eating stall, restaurant or hawker centre and check out their back alleys and drains. Ever wondered how much food waste they generate each day and how much have gone into the drains and sewers unnoticed?

To think that litterbugs in the city need to be educated on cleanliness is a load of rubbish. What they need is not education. I am sure most of them love a clean environment. The reason they still throw garbage like they own the streets is because the rubbish do not end up in their homes or backyards.

Maybe it's time we stopped kidding ourselves that more education can turn the tide against littering. Stop cracking our brains, and use the cane instead.

Make litterbugs pay. Find them and fine them. Make an example out of some so that they become examples for others. This, I think, is the best way to educate those who continue to litter.

Do you have a recipe for a happy retirement?

I LIKE Tan Sri Ahmad Fuad Ismail's recipe for retirement. In an interview with this paper last Friday, the outgoing Kuala Lumpur mayor said his most immediate plan was to cook for his family for Ramadan. He will later open a restaurant or cafe, or perhaps write a recipe book.

Having served an extended two-year term to make sure the city is better off than it was three years ago, the former mayor certainly has made a good decision to serve his family now instead.

Many of us forget that we spend a third of our lives in dreamland, and the remainder chasing those dreams and building our careers. To be able to happily retire and pursue one's passion is a blessing indeed.

In between working on our careers and taking care of our family's day-to-day needs,  the years fly by without us realising it.

When all is done and the years have flown, we may realise, sometimes too late, that we should have spent more time with our loved ones or done  the  things that we loved instead of being tied to  the workplace and being consumed by our jobs even when we are away from the office.

No doubt, some of us are happier at the workplace than anywhere else but that's a different  story.

Cooking is a great way to show love and appreciation for the people who mean a great deal to us. Panir, a friend in the food business,  told me that if one cooks with love, even a simple meal will be a feast for the person eating it. I couldn't agree more, although I am no cook.

For all the fancy food I have eaten,  nothing is more satisfying than a  plate of steaming hot rice, a fried egg, cold cucumber slices and some belacan (shrimp paste) for a dip. It is a simple meal that my mother used to prepare for the family when I was growing up.

After I got married, my wife asked why I loved this meal so much. I told her it reminded me of the hardship my family faced post-1969, when my father's grocery business was ruined by racial strife. But the meal does not only remind me of hardships, it also reminds me of our resilience in overcoming difficult times.

My wife, who grew to share my love for the simple repast, would prepare it whenever she sensed that I was having a rough day.

I am sure Fuad's family will be overjoyed when he takes over the kitchen to cook them a buka puasa meal this Ramadan.

According to Fuad, the last time he cooked dinner for his family to buka puasa with was in 2000, when he was serving as the Subang Jaya Municipal Council president. Twelve years is a long time. And what better way to catch up  than over a buka puasa meal?

The former mayor celebrates his 59th birthday today. On top of wishing him a happy birthday, I hope  he will be blessed with the good health to celebrate many birthdays to come, and to cook many more meals for his family and friends.

And when he does open a restaurant or write a recipe book one day, he can count on my patronage.

No stomach for pricey probiotics

A FRIEND who had been grappling with constipation was bursting with joy when we met up for dinner recently. He was all smiles the minute he stepped into the Chinese restaurant at Sentul Raya. He even suggested that we order the Szechuan steamed stingray, a dish he used to avoid because the black pepper would worsen his constipation.

When I asked him what had relieved him from his chronic ill, he said it was probiotics. He found out about the friendly gut bacteria at a health fair in Singapore recently.

Not only is his bowel movement now regular, even his eczema was gone, he said.

Now a probiotics evangelist, my friend actively encourages his family to go on probiotics-rich diet. That evening, he did not only explained the benefits of probiotics to me, he even gave me a list of brands to check out.

I told him that I had been taking probiotics for many years but mine did not come with fancy names nor were they imported. Mine is commonly known by it Indian name -- tairu, the plain yogurt even non-Indians can learn to make in their kitchen.

I learnt how to make yogurt years ago after Indian friends told me that tairu (creamy yogurt) or moru (the liquid counterpart) taken with a dash of salt, was not only good for the gut but also fantastic for dispelling heatiness.

I was also told that yogurt was frequently added to Indian dishes.

However, I learnt about the health benefits of lactobacillus, the good bacteria present in yogurt, way back in the early 1980s. Now I make a kilo every few days for my youngest daughter. She started taking it six months ago when I told her it would help heal mouth ulcers. I had learnt that from a book by Adele Davis, a nutritionist who pioneered the concept of eating right to keep fit.

Four decades ago, who had heard of probiotics? Or used it to keep constipation at bay? Those days, if one is constipated, doctors usually recommended laxatives, one of which is Brooklax. It looks like a small piece of Cadbury chocolate. Take it at bedtime and you will find fast relief in the morning.

Even the commercially-available cultured milk drink had yet to make its appearance back then. I remember how much trouble the salesmen had trying to explain why the lactobacillus bacteria was good for the gut to the less-educated shopper.

Those days, however, most people were already eating healthy traditional foods that contained generous amounts of good bacteria. If you recall, the Chinese have their lum yee (fermented beancurd), hak tau see (fermented black beans), phei tan (century egg) and preserved ginger.

The Malays made tapai (fermented tapioca or glutinous rice) and tempe (fermented soyabean cakes), in addition to pekasam (fermented fish).

Most Indian families made their own yogurt long before commercial ones appeared on the shelves.

Today taking probiotics have become a fad. Those who swear by it, like my friend, tell me that good probiotics should contain live cultures. The capsules have to be kept refrigerated and taken on the long-term before the effects are seen or felt. They also don't come cheap.

The way I see it, if we could just look back at what our forefathers ate and put those "peasant foods" on our table, we certainly don't need to stomach the marketing hype or be constipated paying through our noses for commercial probiotics.

Humble fare no longer small potatoes

HAVE you ever had steamed tapioca (or ubi kayu) for breakfast? It was common fare back in the old days. It was seldom sold at the stalls because it was not as popular as breakfast staples nasi lemak, nasi dagang and kuih , but it was often served at home.

Folk ate it with grated young coconut or dipped in sugar. As a kid, I ate it, too, but with ikan kering (salted fish), usually selar kuning (yellow-tailed scad).

Steamed tapioca was regarded as humble fare for the poor. It was very cheap, at only 10 cents a kati (or 600 grammes). Two katis were enough to provide an ample meal for a family of five.

Tapioca plants grow quite easily, too, and most homes would have a few planted in their backyards to provide shade for the ducks and chicken.

To grow a tapioca plant, you only need to stick a cut stem into the soil. Even with minimal care, it would mature in about 10 months to provide you with three to five tubers, each the size of a corncob. If you regularly feed the plant cow or chicken manure, it would reward you with tubers as big as a man's thigh.

Harvested tubers can keep for a long time if stored in a cool, dry place, away from the rats.

Apart from being steamed, the tubers can also be grated and baked into tapioca cakes. People also made tapioca flour at a time when cornstarch was a luxury.

Recently, at a coffee shop in Hulu Kelang, I saw plastic packets of steamed tapioca sold at RM1.50 each. Curious, I asked a friend, a regular there, if steamed tapioca was making a comeback.

The chap told me that the steamed tapioca there had found a loyal following, especially among foreign workers. A packet of steamed tapioca was more filling than regular breakfast items and much cheaper, too.

Another poor man's fare, sweet potatoes, are enjoying a revival with city folk, especially the health-conscious.

Rebranded as "wholesome, healthy snacks", roasted potatoes are selling like hot cakes at kiosks in shopping malls, especially at the one near my home. Last Thursday, curiosity and hunger got the better of me after a round of marketing there.

The growling in my stomach turned into piteous pleading at the scent of roasted sweet potatoes.

I headed for the stall, picked a yellow-skinned sweet potato slightly bigger than my fist and asked the foreigner manning the stall for the price. After putting the tuber on the electronic scale, he said, "RM7.50."

When I complained that it was expensive, he told me his sweet potatoes cost RM1.80 per 100g, the reason being they were imported from Japan. My appetite left me, and I, apologising, left the stall.

While roasted sweet potato may be a more salubrious snack than burger and fries, the indulgence would not be healthy for my wallet.

I would be literally paying through the nose if I had succumbed to the scent of nostalgia that evening. On top of that, I would be a "han choo thow" (or potatohead in Hokkien).

For lack of tastier fish to fry

SPOTTED featherbacks (ikan belida) were being sold at the Serdang pasar tani where I was recently. I had not seen this freshwater fish being sold anywhere in the Klang Valley except in aquarium shops and even then, only as pet fish.

The Cantonese call the common featherback "toh yue" or "knifefish" because of its knife-shaped silvery body. The spotted featherback, which has between seven and 10 dark spots on its lower body, is called "chat-sing toh" or seven-star knifefish. The fish can be found in unpolluted rivers, lakes and disused mining pools.

The last time I saw one sold in a wet market was in Pusing, a small town near Ipoh, three years ago. The fish measured an arm's length. I asked the Chinese man who bought the fish if it was good for eating. He said the fish had many fine bones and was best used for making fishballs, which was why some people called it freshwater ikan parang (wolf herring, a marine species traditionally used for making fishballs).

To have seen the spotted featherback in an urban wet market such as in Serdang came as a surprise because, as far as I know, the fish do not belong to the mainstream table fish species such as red tilapia, ikan sepat (Malaysian gourami), patin (river catfish) or keli (common catfish). A thought that came to my mind then was that city folk had developed a taste for exotic freshwater fish species or our fishermen was running out of common table fish species to catch. But don't be surprised if it is both.

Last week, I read that live ikan puyu (climbing perch) are fetching a good RM15 per kilogramme. The hardy fish, which can survive long periods with little or no water, can be found in abundance in padi fields, mining pools, lakes and some rivers.

In the 1970s, the ikan puyu (or ikan betuk as it is sometimes known) was not seen at dinner tables simply because there were other tastier fish. Ikan puyu were only kept in earthen jars or dropped into wells to feed on mosquito larvae.

Sometimes, they are reared in Horlicks jars placed inside the house for protection. According to an old wives' tale, the ikan puyu never sleeps, and this enables it to be able to protect premises from being broken into by burglars using "pukau" or spells. This belief was rife among the Chinese but my Malay friends also said the same of the fish in their households.

But having seen large numbers of live ikan puyu being sold in wet markets, I know it is not superstition that has inflated its price. One ikan puyu lover told me told me that the fish fried in kunyit (turmeric) powder and cili padi will make you drool for more.

If you were in Johor and had been to the fish market there last week, you would have known that the prices of fish had gone up almost 50 per cent.

A shortage of imported marine fish due to declining exports from Sumatera has caused the hike. Indonesian fishermen were not going out to sea due to bad weather and what little they caught made it unprofitable for their exporters to send their fish over here.

Our fishermen, too, failed to find fish because of the haze and this sent ripples through the fish market as consumers grabbed what they saw without worrying if the prices were a little fishy.

In such a situation, is it any wonder that unpopular fish from our inland waterways, like the spotted featherback, are now finding ready buyers in the city?

A cashew acquaintance from the past

I WAS jogging at Lake Titiwangsa in Jalan Kuantan last week when I spotted an elderly chap trying to pluck a fruit from a tree.

Although it was already sunset, the chap, who was dressed in sports attire, paid no heed to the failing daylight. He was trying to reach some fruits on a broad-leafed tree using a bamboo pole.

As I got nearer, I saw that he was trying to hit the ripe fruit of a cashew tree. He finally succeeded but the fruit was reduced to pulp upon hitting the ground. Letting out a sigh, he sought out another fruit.

Curious, I asked the man if he knew what the fruit was. Happily, he replied that he didn't know but it had tasted nice the first time he ate it, and he had been plucking them every time he was at the park since.

Another chap who happened to be around that evening was amused. "City people," he said to me under his breath. "They don't even know a cashew tree when they see one."

"It's not surprising," I replied. "There are not many places in the city these days that you can find cashew trees growing wild."

In the early 1970s, there were quite a number of them in Gombak and Sentul. Today, I can only find one near Kampung Puah. The tree grows in the compound of a Malay house but I don't recall ever seeing it fruit.

If you want to see a cashew tree today, I suppose you will have to go to Lake Titiwangsa's pony riding track.

The cashew trees are planted near the stables, but I doubt you will recognise the tree unless you have previously seen one.

You may have tried the cashew shoots though, as ulam (Malay raw herb and vegetable salad), perhaps. And you may even have mistaken them for something else as cashew shoots exude a sharp, citrusy fragrance when bitten into.

There were plenty of cashew trees in Terengganu where I grew up. The trees grew well along the beach. Folk collected the seeds when the fruits ripened. In fact, it is the only fruit which seeds develop outside the flesh. It is this peculiarity that gave birth to a "pantun teka-teki" (quatrain riddle), which goes like this:

"Anak kera naik keldai
Keldai pula memakai seluar
Kalau tuan bijak pandai,
Buah apa bijinya di luar?"

The riddle asks if you know which fruit bears its seed on the outside. Pupils used to recite the poem to test the general knowledge of their peers during my schooldays.

As far as I know, cashew fruits are seldom eaten because they taste "kelat" - a Malay term which English equivalent I have yet to find.

The sap is believed to cause lip ulcers on sensitive skin.

Only the seeds are sought after, roasted and eaten like nuts.

These days, electric ovens are used to roast the cashew nuts. In the past, we fried them in heated "pasir garam" or fine sand along the beach.

According to an online report I recently read, cashew nuts are rich in fatty acids that can lower the bad and raise the good cholesterol.

They are also good stores of minerals and essential vitamins, including zeaxanthin, an antioxidant that protects the eye.

An old wives' tale, however, has it that eating cashew nuts can cause newly-closed wounds to re-open and existing ones harder to heal.

Follow Chukai's paperless carpark

LOCAL authorities in cities should occasionally visit small towns and take a look at how things are run by their counterparts there. Sometimes, if they are lucky, they may learn something useful.

Many years ago, before the digital countdown traffic lights arrived in the Klang Valley, they were already used in Malacca. From what I was told when I first saw one there, a particular junction in Malacca town had the highest accident rate among motorcyclists before the lights were installed.

Apparently, motorcyclists and some motorists tend to speed past the junction whenever the lights were amber, not knowing that the red light would come on in a split second.

When the digital countdown was installed, car drivers and motorcyclists were then able to estimate whether they could make it past the junction before the lights turned red and before traffic from the other side moved across the junction. This has reduced accidents tremendously.

Last week, when I was in Chukai, Kemaman, I decided to drop by Hai Peng coffee shop for roti paong (local coal oven baked bread) and its famous coffee. There were no parking bays along the road near the shop, so I parked at the open car park across the road.

If you have been to this car park, you will agree that this could be one of the most environment-friendly parking systems that can be adopted by local authorities in the Klang Valley, to add to their green effort.

This car park does not use tickets that often end up being discarded indiscriminately and choking drains.

The parking area is colour-coded. Each parking bay has a number. You only need to locate an empty bay, park, and note the bay number and colour of the section.

Then you walk to the electronic parking terminal that has the same colour code, punch in the duration you need to park and pay into the machine.

The machine does not issue tickets. The parking duration is instead displayed digitally on the terminal.

The parking enforcement officer only needs to check the meter for bays where the parking duration have expired and walk to the illegally-parked car to issue a summons.

I don't know if this system is implemented anywhere else in the country, but I have not seen it in Kuala Lumpur, Petaling Jaya, Klang or even Malacca.

Most parking meters I have come across issue tickets that motorists then had to display openly on the dashboard. Others, like Malacca, use pre-paid coupons that you have to scratch out and display on your dashboard.

Both systems are not environment-friendly since they use paper. Chukai's parking system is paperless and it means less discarded paper get into the drains and fewer trees need to be cut to make the coupons.

I wouldn't be surprised if the Chukai parking system is cheaper to maintain as well.