The Cab Driver with a Golden Heart

Aah, there are many cab drivers from hell and then there are as many angelic cab drivers too.

Just when I thought there is no end to this dark tunnel that spotlights - pun intended -everything-that-is-bad-about-our-cab-drivers, all of the sudden I saw a ray of light at the end of it, and it is not a choo-choo train coming at me!

You know, beyond my usual cab driver, David - a Peranakan from Melaka, and his counterpart Sham from Kajang, the two who would share the burden of driving me to KLIA everytime I need to travel, I don't actually trust any one else.

David and Sham, on the other hand, are someone you can depend your life on!

You see, I prefer to take the bus, which would stop at every bus stop; or I would walk, so that I would never be cheated by a cab driver, who would want either a fixed rate, or would take me on a convoluted way to reach my destination, both of which would cause a big hole in my pocket.

While I do think I know most of my way to my destination within KL, sometimes I do not know the path of least resistance or jalan tikus - that's how they would describe it in Jakarta; which may change with time of the day.

So in the end, I am always at their mercy and I would always be on the losing end.

Last November, a friend of mine went to the office and he accidently left his brand new Lenovo computer. He didn't realize it, until he was in the elevator. Upon noticing that he didn't have his computer bag, he immediately went down to the lobby, hoping that the cab driver would have noticed the bag at the back of his cab and was still be around.

An anxious looking Pete, caught on the CCTV looking for the cab. No, he was not with the gal on his right!

But luck was not with him that day. The cab and the cab driver were nowhere to be seen.

Back in the office, Pete was cursing on his luck. It was after all a brand new notebook. But more importantly the computer is his life - well, almost! There was little we could do. There was no info on the cab or the driver's identity, or the company he is with.

The best avenue would be for him to head back to Bandar Tun Razak LRT station where he took the cab. Again, luck was not with him.

Back in the office, someone suggested that he head to office building's maintenance office where they maintain a host of security cameras located at strategic location throughout the building complex.

Scrutinizing the photo of incoming and outgoing cab and the times as denoted on the photo, the maintenance staff shortlisted a couple of photo of a cab which could be the cab Peter might have taken.

Using the time stamp on the security photo, it was concluded, by the building maintenance staff that these are the cab and the cab driver that he left his notebook in, despite Pete's insistence that it was not. Anyway, no one could decipher the registration number of the cab. Mind you, these pics were taken in broad daylight. We managed to decipher the name of the driver as printed on his cab though. We were thinking of getting the FBI's help though!

But Peter had doubt on the shortlisted driver. Apparently he remembers him as being a lot thinner than this driver in the picture above - the above driver is a bit chubbier than he remembers him. And he was sure of this fact as he did have a good conversation with the driver.

Alas, the maintenance staff ignored his view and insisted that based on his analysis of the time, that was the cab Peter had came in.

So Peter was heading nowhere with his (private) investigation. I guess, while engineers are logical thinkers, we need cool mind and resources to crack the codes.

And cool minds we were lacking then.

And someone who is willing to listen to all the evidence and not make up conclusion without hearing all.

After nearly two hours, Peter had practically given up. It was not to be his day. He is beginning to resign to his fate.

Unless a miracle was to happen.

And it did. Suddenly we heard a knock on the door and in came the building security officer with with a man with a skull cap, carrying a black case containing the computer. He was the driver, the one that we had been waiting for.

He looked like an angel walking down the office with the black case; and he had restored my faith in humanity.

I had never seen anyone so relieved in his life - that's Peter of course; and I don't know whether he is going to cry or laugh.

He refused to be photographed; typical of a humble man, but untypical of people in this time and era. I however insisted on his picture, telling him it was only for my blog. While I would be the firstone to complain about bad service, very seldom I am as quick to give credit when one is due.

I want to rectify that.

Thank you sir, for you are an example of a towering Malaysian.

EPILOGUE

In hindsight, after digesting all the facts, I have serious doubt about the use of technology to solve crimes vis-a-vis the above incident. While the high tech stuff provide you with the comfort knowing that something will be captured on camera, it is by no mean, an end to itself.

1. The camera, while it looks like a high resolution, with a low light technology, was not able to identify the cab's registration number. We might need the FBI, or Hollywood to clarify the images! Remember Nurin's tragedy?

2. All the high tech equipment is only as good as the guy who handles them. In this case, the person insisted that the picture he printed out was the cab driver, even if Peter had doubted him based on the size of the person. To me, he's an idiot who thought he knew it all since he handled the camera, despite the 'victim's' insistence that the actual cab driver was a lot thinner.

This is very true too with the authority handling crime cases.

I wonder how competent are our policemen in handling all crime cases. Nurin's case still unsolved; neither is Nini's.

Heliconia of My Eyes

I have always loved the heliconia.

Beyond the plumeria (or kemboja), which I had paid tribute to, more than a year ago, in my blog (..dan bunga-bunga berguguran.. and Kemboja of My Eyes), I love the heliconia. If I love the plumeria because of its gravity-defying branches, I love the heliconia because of its exotic flowers. Unlike the Bougainvillea, which you can practically find anywhere in Malaysia, one don't find heliconia just about anywhere.

As explained earlier, we have always associated the plumeria/kemboja with the graveyard. Actually, it is such a wonderful tree to be planted in the yard with its sweet smelling flowers. Heliconia, on the other hand, would complement our tropical garden in such a way that these two plants have become almost always associated with the Balinese Garden.

For some reasons, the heliconia are not native to Malaysia, though they native to the tropical Americas and the Pacific island west to Indonesia. I guess that explained with they are essential to the Balinese in decorating their garden.

Their flowers are produced on long, erect or drooping panicles, and consist of brightly colored waxy bracts, with small true flowers peeping out from the bracts [Wikipedia]

I have at least 3 specie of the heliconia; the pleasant looking drooping-heliconia rostratta, the more common heliconia latispatha and the exotic looking, if I identify it correctly, heliconia wagneriana.

Top left - the latispatha, and (right) the rostratta

Rostratta is easy to grow and it will produce flower regularly. Rostratta flower has a hairy texture; more like hair stubs actually, so it will take sometimes to get used to it. The problem with the heliconias is that they are generally a bit 'naughty' - nakal was the word used by one landscape artist and will spread itself throughout the garden if you don't maintain them well and soon the whole garden will be taken over and overwhelmed by them.

However, top of my list is the wagneriana. I don't have that many; and their flowering has been few and far in between. But I would like to celebrate the day when four of them produced flowers at about the same time.

They are the flowers of my eyes and mind.

Ultraman - A childhood Hero

Prologue

I was at Crowne Plaza yesterday enroute to KLIA. Peter and I always have this ritual dinner at Pan Pacific KLIA for our last meeting before he leaves for home in Chicago and yesterday was no exception. While waiting at the executive lounge, I had the opportunity to browse through the previous day's paper (Thursday) and came across an article that caught my interest

The news had it that this Thai lost a court case - he was suing the Ultraman's inventor, claiming that he had a hand in the creative creating of this very popular Japanese superhero. Instead of him hitting the jackpot, he had to pay RM1 M to the Japanese inventor.

Ultraman is definitely not Thai!

Ultraman Hayata

Aaah, Ultraman. It sure brings a lot of fond memories of the years gone by.

Sesungguhnyer teman dah luper ler the full detail, tapi awal tahun 70an, Ultraman was perhaps on every kid's telly diet in Malaysia. Teman ingat sangat kat Aulong in 1973 tengok Ultraman kat rumah jiran. Yalar, kami dulu tak der TV pun - bapak kurang percaya tengok2 tv and nak anak2 dier concentrate blaja. Tapi tak ler sampai dier tak bagi kami tengok TV langsung. Kalau nak tengok citer PRamlee malam sabtu, kami kayuh ler basikal pegi rumah nenek; tuh pun kalau tak kena pegi masjid Hanafi dengar ceramah tabligh.

ULtraman ni selalu ditayangkan belah2 petang ler, habih sebelum magrib, just in time to kena jerit oleh Mak suruh kami mandi siap magrib! :-) Hahaha, besa lah tu..

As I have said earlier, I don't remember it that well anymore - the full story line and the actors. Teman ingat sangat nama Hayata. Hayata ni a member of the Science Patrol and Ultraman nih dok dalam badan Hayata ler. Masa tu alien and monster ni asyik dok kacau tamaddun dunia dan Hayata would transform himself into a superpower giant from outerspace - Ultraman.

Tapi tak ler ultraman asyik menang jer. Power dier limited jugak. From Wikipedia: "At the beginning of each transformation from Hayata-to-Ultraman, the warning light on the giant's chest begins as a steady blue color. Yet as Ultraman exerts himself, the ColorTimer changes to red, then blinks - slowly at first, then with increasing rapidity - as his energy reserves get closer to exhaustion. As the voice-over narration reminds the viewer - beginning with episode 2 and for each episode thereafter - if Ultraman ever reaches the point of total energy depletion, he "will never rise again"."

Tuler tak nak pakai bateri everready!

Masa tuh, memang saspen giler. The red light dok blinking, monster tak mati-mati lagi. Ultraman knew he has to be quick. We all knew that - we can't afford to have our superhero dead. Risau jugak next week dah tak der dah episod ultraman.

Tapi kan, bro, zaman2 tuh maner ler tau lampu merah ker lampu biru. TV hitam putih jer. Yang kami nampak, lampu tuh blinking slow ker blinking cepat. Tu lagi menambah ke-saspen-an.

Tapi bila "Ultraman crouches slightly forward and crosses his wrists together, with his right forearm vertical and left forearm horizontal in front of it, and the thumb edge of his hands facing his body, to shoot from the outer edge of his right hand a particle/light-ray that kills most opponents. The effect is either an explosion or a fatal burn."

Monster pun gone with the wind ler!

Mesti bebudak tiru punyalah zaman-zaman tuh.

Teman ingat sesangat antara episod terakhir. Not sure if Ultraman mati, or balik outer space. Tapi sampai ngalir airmater ler jawabnya masa tu. Sedih woo..

Memang sedih ler. We all have a soft spot for Ultraman and Hayata.

Tapi kalau tak silap teman, Ultraman ni ada tujuh beradik. Tapi teman tak ingat dah. Daun terup ultraman memang popular masa tu, memang jadi kegilaan bebudak.

Honestly from those innocent days, Ultraman was our superhero. We live and cry by it. Yalar teman masa tuh jah empat. Nak wat camner, dah zaman bebudak pun....

EPILOGUE

Ultraman File Facts: From Wikipedia

Ultraman's statistics
Height: 40 m (130 ft)
Weight: 35,000 tons
Age: 20,000 Earth years old
Flight Speed: Mach 5
Jump Ceiling: 800 m (2,600 ft)
Running Speed: 450 km/h (280 mph)
Swimming Speed: 200 knots (230 mph)
Physical Strength: can lift a 100,000-ton tanker (Skydon was twice as heavy)
Occupations: Teacher at Space University (Uchū Daigaku, Space University); Chief of Space Garrison Milky Way Office (宇宙警備隊銀河系局, Uchū Keibitai Gingakei Kyoku)
Family Structure:
Father: Director of Space Security Board (Uchū Hoan Chō, Space Security Board)
Mother: Teacher at Ultra School (Urutora Gakkō, Ultra School)
Human Form: Shin Hayata (host)
Transformation Item: Beta Capsule (Bētā Kapuseru, Beta Capsule)

Wow, a post dedicated to me?

I am deeply honoured, Bro Zawi (from Life as I See It), though I am not sure if I am worthy of such a dedication.

I have followed Life as I See it for quite sometimes now. Most of the time I was a lurker, reading the entries, but not saying much, if at all. I do enjoy the stories, many of which are something I can relate to. In many ways, I thought our blogs have many similarities.

What makes his blog more interesting is the stories about Kelantan, a state I spent five years growing up in, and I am quite fond of the five years I was there.

It was only recently that I started to leave comments at his blog. Like the saying goes, a smile would aways elicit a similar response.

And here I am staring in disbelief that I now have an entry dedicated to me (even if the honour was shared with another).

If I may paste an excerpt from that entry, just for the record.

"First and foremost I would like to dedicate this post to Shahrir of Cakapaje who had lived in Pengkalan Chepa with his family and Rahman Hariri of Time In A Bottle for their being a former student of Maktab Sains Mara Kota Bharu (MRSM) putting him in the same league as Datuk Mukhriz Mahathir, the son of the former Prime Minister of Malaysia. Datuk Mukhriz is the man responsible for the setting up of ANSARA an association of ex students of MRSM Malaysia."

Thank you Bro Zawi for the wonderful entry, the wonderful pictures for me to jog down memory lane and the wonderful blog - it goes without saying.

But I would have to say it anyway and I have said it!

The Munich Air Disaster - A tribute

That, to me, was the beginning of the Manchester United legend and her world-wide appeal.

Even as early as 1974, I was fascinated by the Munich Air Disaster.

For some reasons, if my memory serves me right, there seems to be a lot of stories in the New Straits Times in the 70s about everything Manchester United and how Manchester United practically lost the whole team when the plane carrying their players crashed upon take off at Munich killing 23 people in February 1958.

Of course I knew nothing of the incident - I was not even born then, beyond what I have read from the news, but for Manchester United to rise from the ashes of the Municah tragedy, literally, to win the 1968 European Cup was nothing short of a miracle.

Phoenix bangkit, kata M.Nasir.

The legend of Duncan Edwards, and the Busby Babes fascinated me so much that I grew up following Manchester United.

Later on George Best, the fifth beatle, was the name of the game in the 60s for United.

In the late 90s, manning the Hyprotech booth at the Jakarta Convention Centre for an oil and gas exhibition, I had a chat with a Scot who was a United follower. Knowing that I also follow United, he thought that I was a glory hunter since the 90s were United's glorious decade.

I don't blame them, but although I believe it is none of their business how and why we follow certain team. I guess it is like no one can tell us who we can fall in love with, or get married to. One would not need to justify it!

But he admitted later that he was wrong with his assumption.

My saving grace was that I could list down all the players in the not-so-glory years of the 70s (and I don't have to search Wikipedia to confirm them). Alex Stepney, the goalkeper; Martin Buchan (captain and defender), Lou Macari (Midfielder); Sammy McIllroy, Stuart Pearson (striker); Jimmy and Brian Greenhoff, Joe Jordan, Gordon MacQueen, and later on the 80s, Norman Whiteside who scored in the 1985 final with a curling ball in the game against Everton, Paul McGrath and the likes.

Bryan Robson (Robbo aka Captain Fantastic) is too easy a name for me to quote. Everyone knows him.

Life at Manchester United then were like a roller coaster. I mean it is like a roller coaster sitting here on the ground, with no engine. It was demoted to the second division in 1974, went back straight up in 1975, went on to the FA Cup final in 1976, only to lose to a second division team, Southampton.

Life as a Manchester United fan then; it was a heartache (to quote Bonnie Tyler).

Of course the 1977 brought the joy of winning the FA Cup final - against the 'Pool. That win is more satisfying now than it was in the 70s due to the fact that the 1999 team would not have been the first team to win the treble had the MU team in 1977 not been able to overcome the 'Pool. Liverpool of course went on to win the European Cup (against Borussia Mochengladbach 3-1) to register a double having won the league a few weeks earlier.

I remember watching them at Bukit Jalil with the kids and I remember in the 1983 to have gone to the famous MCG (Melbourne Cricket Ground) to watch MU played the Australian Team. Of course the Malaysian selection was no match and lost 5-0; the Australian team did a bit better, losing 2-0 only.

But today is about the 1958 team. Unfortunately I have not seen many of them played, but the Busby Babes played a big role for me in making me an MU fan ( and not another club). I am told that Duncan Edwards would have been England's best player ever, and more.

Nonetheless, in the era gone by, there was little footage available of him.

In many ways, Manchester United owe it to him and the other who perished in the Munich air disaster for the fans like me to flock and support United.

To accuse us of being glory hunters would be blasphemous to their memories.

EPILOGUE

For a more comprehensive tribute, read Soccernet's The Busby Babes: Munich Remembered.

You'd better be as good as Vanessa Mae, Arif

From being a guitar-student drop-out 30 years ago, I now have the privilege to choose a violin for Arif that should last him to his diploma (in violin) level and perhaps will take him through performing!

Of course there is a price to pay to have that privilege - one need to have a fat wallet!

And I definitely don't have one, beyond the fact that my wallet is fat due to my habit of sticking receipts into my wallet - grocery bills, petrol receipts; you name it, they are all there!

To my untrained ears, they all look and sound alike; be it a RM2000 violin or the whopping RM10,000 (or more) violin.

Much like a Matsalleh who would say that, to his eyes, all Malays look alike, or even to the extent that he can't tell the difference between say a Malaysian and an Indonesian.

Arif has been playing his RM300 violin that he got upon starting his lesson a couple of years ago and now has progressed so much to a grade high enough that he needed a 'handmade' violin to perform for his Associated Board of Royal School of Music (ABRSM). He needed something reasonably good; something that would not impede his progress when the examiner from London tests his playing skills.

But how does one choose a violin?

In my world, it is easy. I can decide on the brand (say HP), and if I were to take it to say their service centre, they would be able to tell the exact specification of the notebook or if they were genuine at all and the year of manufacture. I can ask for 2 GB RAM, 160 GB HDD. I can tell them I want a Samsung DVD player with certain reading speed etc. I know too, that when it says my notebook is made in Japan, I can rest assured that it is made in Japan.

But not 'intagible' instrument like violin.

A German violin may be made in China. A handmade one may actually be made in the factory. Anyone can just put a sticker that says it is a Stradivari violin and people like me would not be able to tell the difference.

Actually there are guidelines vailable on how to choose a violin. The maker (the Stradivari, the Vuillaume, the Gagliano or the Scarampella), the country of origin (Italy or Germany of China), the age (the older the better), the condition etc would be a guiding criteria. But again, they are all ambiguous.

But nothing is as ambiguous as the tone!

There are hundreds of adjectives that describe the tone of a violin: "warm, lyrical, rich, clear, deep, smooth, brilliant, and on and on. How do you define warm? Or for that matter lyrical?

I have no idea, to be honest.

I am also told power is such an important criteria for violin; there is a reason why an orchestra would have 35 violins and only 3 flutes!

So this afternoon, after taking James and Peter for a satay Kajang treat, Arif's violin teacher brought 3 violins with price range from RM4300 to RM7800. Two of them are Chinese-made violin, while the most expensive one is of course the German one (Klauss Heffler). The Chinese made violins were marketed under the name of a Singapore-based company (Synwin).

(This is a cheapest of the two Synwin)

Honestly, if you were to ask me, I can't tell the difference.

(This is the second Synwin)

I can't tell which one is more lyrical, or warmth and apparently neither could Arif!


(This is German-made. It is expensive)

So I asked his teacher for her opinion.

"Actually what I brought you today are all in the same range in term of sound quality. The German violin is more expensive since it is made in Germany, and that it is more of an investment, as you can sell it easily compared to the China-made one. Then again, it is a matter of prestige if anyone were to get a German one!"

She was upfront with me.

I have not decided on which one to get him. I don't just, for the sake of buying him one, take out a cheque and sign away RM7800 for anything. It is a lot of money for me to give to a 17-year old kid, even if I had hope that he would have the traits of Hassan (as in Hassan, pemain biola or penggesek biola in the PRamlee's classic Anakku Sazali).

But I am also hoping, if he can be as good as Vanessa Mae, I would close my eyes and sign my life away!

EPILOGUE

I guess that's the end of my dream of getting some new toys for myself ;-) Aaah, man, I am a typical dad. The kids would be wearing branded goods while the dad would wear singlet and slipper! Hahaha....

Now I am wondering when Akmal would be asking for his hand-made Spanish guitar.

I guess I would have to sign my life away to the devil! Not!

Then again how did Hamzah Dolmat or Idris Sardi (the famed Indonesian violin player) came into being in this industry, if it is that expensive? Or may be they make do with a cheap violin and pour their heart out and became great players before they opt for say an expensive violins?

Point to ponder, Arif.

Sleepless in Chicago

Prologue

A couple of weeks ago, I saw the news on TV3 that Chicago and the mid-West were blanketed with snow. Having a close friend and a partner there in Chicago and having visited him a couple of years ago, I remember my encounter with a foot-thick snow and getting trapped outside in the freezing temperature when I decided to venture outside early one morning and I locked myself outside by mistake.

In today’s newspaper, is the story that China was hit by winter storm.
 

And I have been told today that 13 inches of snow had dropped on Chicago yesterday. Wow, wish I was there!

The view from my room at Madi's house very early morning the next day

So I had to write this piece.

Sleepless in Chicago

It was very early morning mid-December 06. Having just arrived the night before and still jet lagged, I was wide awake by 4 am, and being a restless by 6 am, I decided to enjoy my encounter with the white stuff outside. It has been years since I had more than a foot of snow in the yard. So I went out and feast my eyes with the fluffy stuff. The roofs and the lawn were all white. It looked so like watching a Christmas movie to me, or even watching the Home Alone movie. Some still have their Christmas light on and decoration hanging on the balcony and in the yard. But after 5 mins enjoying the snow that looked like a white carpet in his compound, I decided that I had enough.

The view of the suburb of Hinsdale as Madi took me around
upon arrival that evening in Chicago

It was a tad too cold for me to enjoy the ambience.

I tried to go in, but the door would not budge. It was locked.

I had basically locked myself out. By mistake.

It was still very early, and it was the weekend. The host, tired from the night outing showing this writer Chicago, was still fast asleep. I didn't want to disturbed him. So I continued on enjoying the freezing temperature while hoping that the host would wake up and rescue him soon. I tried keeping myself warm by rubbing my two hands together.

It didn’t last that long. I could not hold fort anymore and I need to get in quickly; or else the next day headline would be “Malaysian frozen to death”. So I had to ring the bell.

Hah, Madi can’t do much except offer a wry smile at me for locking myself out. He probably wished I had not done that so that he could have a few more precious minutes of sleeping time. But he didn’t complain.

When I was there, the weather was calm. No snow was falling unfortunately. It was practically a pleasant week there. But while I would like to see fresh snow, I was not keen to be trapped by snowstorm. It was close to Christmas and if I don’t get back to KL in time, I could be trapped there due to the holiday traffic.

The hosts in front of the house in the posh suburb of Chicago

 

The wonderful hosts in front of the house in Chicago. His house has this basement that we can just sit there and relax while we listened to old song. I love his basement - wish my house has the same thing.


Chicago is fun to me. The downtown is nothing that I had seen before, except for New York may be. Chicago makes Houston looked like a small kampong. It does. Huge and tall skyscrapers are the norm there. It is so ultra-modern and chic. What do you expect for a city that boasts seven of the 10 tallest towers in the world for the longest time and was only surpassed by our twin towers; even then due to technical reason. Their argument was that the highest floor at Sears (110th) would be looking 10-floor down to see the 88th floor of the Petronas Twin towers.

The only reason why we were listed as the tallest buiding was that our twin towers have a pinnacle to make it architecturally taller. The Sears tower management argued that their building has a radio antenna that would surpass the top of the Petronas tower pinnacle.

The tall building authority at Lehigh University had to arbitrate.

Well, I guess many would know the verdict by now. The antenna is not considered as the part of the architecture of Sears towers while the pinnacles of the Petronas towers are.

The ultra-modern and chic Chicago downtown.

 

Well, I guess, it does not matter now. None are the tallest building in the world. It was surpassed by Taipei 101 (which by floor count is 9 floors below Sears Tower). Again it does not matter - it will be surpassed yet by another building under construction in the Middle East.

And the race continues.

EPILOGUE

Years ago when I was practically living in Ontario, I had thought of driving to Chicago. But then the response from my Canadian counterparts was "Why do you want to go to Chicago? They've got guns there, you know. Afterall, Al Capone used to live in Chicago!" So instead of heading West, I head East to New York and Boston.

Then of course I had no clue that my former classmate from MRSM was living and working in Chicago.