Ice cream in Singapore

As you might imagine for a hot place, ice cream is popular here. There is a Haagen Dazs place right near my hotel, and I can’t help noticing a few things about it. First, it is not nearly as sweet as Haagen Dazs in the US. I usually avoid that brand because it tastes too sweet for me. But here it seems lighter. Also, there are interesting flavors! Like coconut macaroon, ginger-lychee cream, melon, and midnight cookies and cream (chocolate ice cream with Oreos). While the first three might be called regional specialties, surely the chocolate one would sell well in the US. I hope they will consider doing so!

Birdland

Today I went to the Jurong Bird Park, which has gotten recommendations from a few people I’ve talked to. The easiest way to get there is by taxi. The driver was playing the radio, tuned to a station with old American hits. I mention this because of the wonderful serendipity that the song “Birdland” came on just as we pulled into the Bird Park! :-) We shared a laugh about that.

Unfortunately, I discovered on arrival that I had just missed the morning editions of both the Birds of Prey and All-Star Bird shows. This park has various zoo-like exhibits as well as shows with trained birds. But there were many other events to see.

I started out in the “World of Darkness” exhibit, which features owls and other creatures of the night. The place is kept in darkness during the day so they are not just sleeping all the time, as often happens in zoos. The snowy owls were gorgeous!

Then I went to the hornbill and toucan section because they had a “hornbill chitchat” event (once/day, so don’t miss it). This turned out to be fairly casual—a handler brought out some hornbills and allowed people to have a bird sit on their arm. An Indian woman was there with her daughter, and needed someone to take their picture, so I swapped with them and got a picture of me with the hornbill too.

I was quite taken with the hornbills. They are large, majestic birds with curious eyes, pretty patterns, and a thing called a casque on their bill. It looks heavy, but is actually hollow and quite light. They live in Southeast Asia and some parts of Southern India. The mating is pretty interesting: The female seals herself in a tree hollow, filling in the opening with leaves and feces. The only space left is a narrow slit through which the male feeds her until the eggs hatch and the chicks are ready to fly. Be careful standing under the nest — there is no bathroom inside, so they get good at ejecting waste out through the slit!

There were several nice aviaries, too. One featured birds of paradise with all the wonderful colored plumage, and another focused on birds of Southeast Asia. One was filled with a zillion parrots, and you could buy a cup of fruit slush to feed them. They would come and perch all over you while you did it. A little girl near me was startled when the birds landed on her, and dropped her cup of food. A feeding frenzy started as a crowd of birds rushed in to get some. She was delighted, actually, not upset. After she left, I picked up the cup with a bit of fruit left in it and managed to attract a few parrots to my shoulder. They were cute.

Another aviary held a huge waterfall — 100 feet tall, and entirely human-made. Many types of forest bird were inside, including starlings, bee-eaters, and some large, spotted black birds that resembled peahens. I was there for the feeding of the starlings and bee-eaters, who apparently like mealworms and live beetles. Another feeding frenzy.

I also saw flamingoes, pelicans, storks, eagles, kites, ostriches, and cassowaries. There is even a penguin house! Eventually I was there long enough to catch the next showing of the All-Star Birdshow, which was pretty much like the bird shows you’d see in the US. I didn’t stay for the next Birds of Prey show, which was perhaps too bad, but I did see one of the eagles getting some training as I stopped by the show arena. There was an interesting exhibit on falconry, about which I know essentially nothing. Apparently the Egyptians were doing falconry as early as several centuries BC, and it has also been a tradition in the Middle East, Europe, and Japan.

It turned out to be just as well that I was pooped out and left in the mid-afternoon (it was 86 degrees!) — as soon as I got back to my hotel, it started pouring rain. I had intended to go to the Night Safari Park this evening, but the weather just doesn’t look promising. Apparently it’s a neat place because all the nocturnal creatures that are usually asleep at the zoo — like the big cats — are out and active at night. Maybe I can go tomorrow.

(In fact, as I write this, there is a spectacular lighting show going on outside my window. Wow! Serious weather tonight).

Some of the birds looked unhappy to be confined. For creatures used to free flight in three dimensions, cages may be especially cruel. It seems that only humans like to tie their fellow creatures up and gawk at them. It is, in my opinion, something of a quest to understand ourselves.

Malay Day

Yesterday I took a 1-day trip to Penang, Malaysia. It was for a business meeting, but then I had a few hours to look around also.

Penang (pronounced “PEE-nang” by the locals) is an island on the western side of the Malay Peninsula. It’s a bit more than an hour flight from Singapore. On the flight there, a Singapore Air flight operated by Malaysia Airlines, they played rap music most of the way. I was impressed that they served lunch on a 75-minute flight — it was a simple chicken curry with a somewhat sweet flavor in the same way that some Western BBQ sauces taste a bit sweet.

The Penang Airport is smaller than the Singapore Airport, but it does have one additional feature: domestic flights. It occurred to me that every flight in and out of Singapore is international, since they only have one airport. For American cities, being able to say your airport is “international” is a mark of pride — San Jose Airport makes kind of a big deal out of it — but in small Asian countries, it may mean more to have domestic flights available. That signifies a mobile and wealthy population. In Malaysia, the other major airport is Kuala Lumpur.

The first thing I noticed is that a fair fraction of the women wear head scarves. The Muslim population is significant here. Take a look at the Malaysian flag sometime: It’s got red and white stripes with a blue field in the upper-left corner, but rather than stars, it has a crescent. And just as Western airports offer “prayer rooms” (which are essentially Christian, reflecting the majority religion), the Penang airport offers Muslim prayer rooms—separately marked “male” and “female.”

I changed some dollars into ringgit and went to find a taxi. I saw a large counter marked “Taxi” inside the terminal, so I went there and told them where I wanted to go. Although the place was less than a mile away, it cost 22 ringgit. That’s only about $6. But you’ll see other prices later in this post, showing that it is a relatively expensive fare.

The reason for the central taxi counter seems to be the prevalence of “illegal taxis,” which a sign outside warned travelers to avoid. These are common at Asian airports—they pick up foreigners and charge them a lot—but have been kept in check recently by such control efforts. I’m pleased with these efforts. They create a more civil and welcoming society, as well as making it safer for travelers in general, and women in particular.

After a very nice meeting, my host told me he had arranged a “taxi tour” of Penang, meaning that he had hired a driver. He asked if I preferred “nature or culture”—basically meaning either that we could go north to the undeveloped, rainforest part of Penang, or more into the city area to see temples and streets. I had heard about a very nice butterfly farm to the north, but in the end, I opted to go into Penang city and George Town. I’ll have to see the butterflies next time.

The driver handed me a tourist booklet with information about Penang (put out by the Penang Tourist Action Council). I glanced over it as we drove into town, and found a few hilarious entries. For instance: “George Town is a port city that has been shaped through the centuries by trade, commerce, and good old-fashioned graft.” Or the advertisement from Island Hospital (“Penang’s Centre of Medical Excellence”) that reads, “Sun, surf, and surgery—Come for a holiday, get treated by Asia’s top-ranking surgeons, and spend your time recuperating on a hammock overlooking the vast blue sea!”

I think I’ll stick to the taxi tour.

A tiny, abbreviated, totally out-of-context history of the area goes like this: Malaysia (like Singapore) was a British colony for a long time, and Penang was used as a military and trade outpost (beginning in 1786). Fort Cornwallis still stands in the center of George Town, complete with cannon mounted above the walls and pointed out at sea. While the British were there, they imposed a heavy land tax based on the area of land owned. The structure of society at the time was feudal— a few powerful Chinese clans owned most of the land, while the peasants loyal to them lived on it. The clans, mainly the Khoo, Tan, and Lim families, were having none of this tax idea, so they moved offshore. I’m hazy on the details of how this all worked out, but they did eventually come back. It is now possible to visit the ancestral houses of the clans, which have been rebuilt as elaborate decorated shrines that pay tribute to the family.

First we visited the Khoo clan (I could not avoid thinking of the KKK), called Khoo Kongsi in Malay. The house is amazing. It has a manor-like front with a porch and columns, all done up with fancy woodwork, dragons on the roof, brightly colored paint, etc. Inside are scrolls and murals honoring the Khoo family and various Chinese philosophical ideas like the interplay of happiness and sorrow in human life.

There was also a history section explaining that the Khoo family traces its roots back to the Qi province in China, which is situated on the east coast between Beijing and Shanghai. At some point, the Qui family fell out of favor with the local authorities and fled south, establishing a new stronghold in what is now Malaysia. The ancestry was written out in meticulous detail in ledger books and on wall charts: Every Khoo is known and tabulated in the family records. They listed the academic degrees and occupations of many generations of Khoos (we are on the 22nd generation now, by the way), including some who graduated from college as late as 1997. It seems that many have historically served as Justices of the Peace for Penang, while others were doctors, lawyers, and, these days, a few engineers. Who says the Chinese dynasties aren’t around anymore? (And of course, only the male Khoos were listed.)

Next the driver took me to Little India, where he dropped me off at the end of a street and told me he’d be waiting at the other end. I strolled along, poking my head into shops. Mostly there were textile and clothing stores, as well as street food vendors, fruit and spice markets, and other sundry stores. It was really a functioning town in and of itself. One store required visitors to remove their shoes. It sold various spiritual items and had a big sign on the wall advertising their consulting services: Elimination of negative spiritual energy, selection of a house that faces in the right direction, etc.

Then we saw the Thai temple, which is Buddhist. I had specifically requested to go here because I am interested in Buddhist temples around the world. I have now visited them in many Asian countries, and what I have learned is that they are totally culturally dependent, different in each place as needed. This makes sense to me: people will create what they need in their local religious center, and conversely, only something that fits the local culture will attract people to support it.

So the Thai temple in Penang told its own story. It was dilapidated in physical appearance, but that didn’t matter to the crowd of people resting and praying there. It was very basic, with simple stone walls and a dark interior. A small cluster of Buddhist figures stood behind a glass encasement — apparently the Buddha and a number of associated gods or attendants. Incense burned everywhere, as well as lotus candles and some kind of offering oil. People drifted in an out, waving sticks of incense in prayer. Quite a large number of desperately poor people were sitting around in the shade of the building, many with poor clothing, missing teeth, and a hungry look. A dog napped beneath the offering table at the entry way.

Clearly the temple was open to all, and no one seemed to be particularly in charge while I was there, although a woman was replacing burned-down candles and a man began to beat a drum mounted on the wall. As in other religious centers (be they Christian or whatever), I didn’t really know what was going on, but that didn’t seem to matter either.

Before I got inside, I was hailed by a man who spoke only a bit of English, smiling widely. He wanted to talk about America (“America! Black power!” he said, raising a fist like Malcolm X), and didn’t want me to go inside. I suspect he was looking for money, and from our brief conversation, it was clear that his English was quite minimal, so I took my leave with what I hope was a friendly gesture, and headed inside. After poking around a bit, I was joined by a man who had been standing by silently as I spoke with the other guy outside. He proceeded to give me a guided tour of the temple pointing to the Buddha, showing me a printed prayer book (in Chinese), indicating that people were praying, and otherwise smiling and gesturing. When I made comments in English such as “Yes, this is where people pray, I see, thank you,” he nodded vigorously and mumbled something incomprehensible. Not a word of English.

There was little I could do to communicate but thank him for his hospitality. And I will admit that I was keeping close tabs on my wallet. Eventually I was ready for the taxi — it was an uncomfortable situation — so I left the building and went back toward the street. Then I heard the man’s first English: “You got money?”

What to do in these situations? He was clearly very poor. He looked at me and saw money, which is surely true. I—and nearly everyone in the US—am far richer than this man hanging around the Thai temple in Penang on the middle of a weekday, with a dirty shirt and rotting teeth.

I used to think that I could make my life simple and logical if I could just find the right principles to act by. Some set of rules that told me, “In this case, do X, in that case, do Y. And never, ever do Z.” But the complexity of the real world does not fit this model very well. Now I believe that a wiser approach is to develop my sensitivity to each situation that I am in, so that I can act appropriately in each case without needing to rely on ideas, concepts, or abstract principles. Because my sensitivity and wisdom are not perfect, I still make mistakes, but my intention is always to act appropriately.

In this case, although I wanted to help, I could not come up with a skillful way to give him anything. There were so many people hanging around, it seemed unwise to get out any money for this one man. I was aware that I felt some annoyance that he was only seeing my wallet and not seeing me as a person, but I hope that did not influence my declining to give. In the end, I got in my taxi and drove away, but I did not close the poor people out of my heart.

It was getting on toward dinnertime, and the tourist-type places were closing. The driver dropped me off at a shopping mall called Gurney Place, which turned out to be more interesting than it sounds like. Some stores were Western, like the Nike store, the Body Shop, and some electronics places—and had Western prices. Others were more local, like the one selling Chinese medicine, or the one with dried fish chips and coconut candy, and these were quite inexpensive and intriguing.

The food selections were interesting. There was a sushi place, a Korean place, and something called simply “The Food You Loved.” I opted for the food court, which had a place labeled “Malay Food.” In Malaysia, one should try Malay food. I quickly learned that nasi means “rice,” and decided on a dish called nasi paprik seafood, spicy (paprika) seafood stew over plain rice. The seafood turned out to be a combination of tiny squid and calamari rings, a couple of whole shrimp (argh, I am clumsy dealing with the full shells), and some crab. The flavor was interesting; I would hardly have called it paprika. It was more like Vietnamese food to my tongue. I washed it down with fresh kiwi juice — yum! One strange encounter: the guy at the drinks counter exclaimed as I ordered the kiwi juice, “You are so clean!” Total price: 6.50 rinngit, or about $2.

Then I strolled around the shops and ended up buying a couple of cheap pieces of jewelry from the little stalls that are common at malls. Some earrings and a bracelet made of wood and stone. Total price: 16 ringgit, or about $5.

Although superficially like Singapore in terms of the shopping, the mall clearly had a less European bent to it. For instance, the bathroom included a couple of stalls with Asian-style toilets (where you squat), and there was no paper. I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again: If you are traveling in Asia, always carry a few packets of tissues with you. You will be oh-so-grateful when you run into a BYOP (bring-your-own-paper) restroom.

I came out and found my taxi waiting. During the trip, I had experienced a little discomfort with basically having a chauffeur for the afternoon; that’s not my typical social class. But then I figured, how else can I see Penang in a few hours? The driver was a nice guy, spoke good English, and was apparently happy to have a single job to do all afternoon. He charged 100 ringgit for the whole voyage, including the trip back to the airport, but I gave him 120 (partly because it wasn’t worth changing that last 20 ringgit back into dollars). I was aware that I was easily giving this driver extra money, when I felt that I couldn’t give the poor man at the Thai temple 20 ringgit. And it would have been a larger sum for the poorer man. But this kind of calculation is only part of the whole picture.

On the drive back to the airport, we passed a large plantation-like place called the Malaysian Buddhist Meditation Center. I wanted to visit! It looked like a retreat center. How nifty. We also passed various mansions like the governor’s palace and some walled homes that were likely British officials’ residences during the colonial period. Quite an interesting place, Penang.

I have to comment also on the clouds! The clouds of Malaysia are not like any other clouds I’ve seen. They are vast and majestic, and generally oriented vertically, rather than spread across the sky. That is, the aspect ratio has them much taller than they are wide. One looked kind of like a nuclear mushroom cloud, to be honest. But overall, I was stunned that clouds could be like that, when I am used to seeing them spread horizontally by the winds that move them around.

Malaysia is a sunnier place than Singapore, where the sun is always a bit hazy behind impending rain clouds. I hadn’t realized that I was missing deep blue sky, but I was, because I felt happy cruising around Malaysia, and when I looked at why, it was because of the color of the sunlight.

SM(a)RT

The public transportation system here is called SMRT — Singapore Rapid Transit. I don’t know what the “M” stands for, but it may be “Metro.” I hope it is “Mass,” however, because then the abbreviation could be written SMaRT. This is a great system.

First off, as I noted earlier, all the forms of public transit — subway and buses, mainly, but also some shuttles and other things — are linked together, so a common kind of card gets you access to everything. You can just keep adding money to it.

On the subway, you can also buy what is called a “standard ticket.” This is also ingenious. A standard ticket is not just a piece of paper with a magnetic stripe (which would end up becoming litter). It is a plastic smart card that operates the same way as the long-term passes that people buy and add money to. Isn’t that expensive? Well, no, because the MRT system collects these cards and reuses them after wiping the memory.

The way they ensure that you turn in your card is that you are required to pay a $1 deposit to get the standard ticket, and this is returned to you only when you feed the ticket back into the machine at the end of your trip. So if it is going to cost $2.50 to get across town, you have to pay $3.50 to get the standard ticket, and then you get $1 back at your destination.

It’s brilliant. The cards get recycled so there’s no litter, the MRT system only has to have one kind of card reader in the stations, and people are less likely to lose their ticket because the plastic smart card is larger and heftier than one of those tiny paper tickets.

City in the tropics

First I headed to the Singapore Botanical Gardens to see some of the tropics. This is an amazing public park with gently rolling hills, several small lakes, groomed flower gardens, and pleasant walkways with informational signs about what plants and animals can be seen nearby. Just strolling around is free, plus there are a few enclosed areas that you can pay to go into. On a Sunday morning, the park was filled with families on picnics, joggers, tour groups, and people doing martial arts like tai chi.

(Singapore is an early-morning and late-night culture. Why? It’s hot! I guess people sleep in between).

I saw the swan lake, several lotus ponds, the ginger garden (I had no idea what ginger plants looked like), and the National Orchid Preserve ($5 entry fee). I had thought I was leaving Japan behind yesterday, but in fact a piece of it came with me—Japanese tour groups! It was fun to listen in on the guide here and there. They seemed especially interested in the ginger plants, and why not, given the prominence of ginger in Japanese cooking.

The orchid preserve was amazing. It is hard to describe what a natural tropical setting looks like, with the exuberance of plant life, the thick vines and huge, heavy leaves. It looks pleasant and lush to our eyes, but this disguises the fact that life in the tropics is cutthroat competition for plants.

There are an estimated 25,000 to 30,000 varieties of orchid, and this preserve probably had at least 1,000. Not all were blooming, but many were, and the beauty of the flowers is just like the poems and stories say it is. They look like origami, so delicate and complex and colorful. Two special sections were called the “VIP Garden” and the “Celebrity Garden.” These, it turns out, were a brilliant diplomatic idea. Singapore has made it a tradition to name an orchid after certain famous people on the occasion of visiting the country. This is done to promote good will between their countries.

So, for example, there was a variety of orchid named for Princess Diana, and also one for the former Prime Minister of New Zealand, the wife of the Sultan of Brunei, the Japanese Empress, and about 15 others (all women). It called forth an image of a special ceremony where the flower is presented to the honored guest as a gesture of amity, and then cultivated in the VIP Garden as a public display of Singapore’s good will. In the Celebrity Garden, many of the flowers were named, intriguingly, for biologists. The main name I remember is David Baltimore, who was cited as having received the honor for “putting Singapore on the map” in the world of cell biology. Apparently biomedical research is quite well-developed here, which came about through collaboration with several famous scientists who now have varieties of orchids named after them. The other celebrities were mostly music stars.

I also learned something about orchid chemistry. The orchids that have a scent are tuned to release their fragrance at particular times of day. For instance, the ones that are moth-pollinated release scent at night when moths are active, while the bee-pollinated ones release scent in the morning when bees are active. The fragrances are complex, but are adapted to resemble other appealing flowers and natural oils of the tropics.

The part that made me laugh was the “Coolhouse.” No kidding! In American botanical gardens, there is often a special Hothouse with high temperature and humidity to resemble the tropics. Here, there was a Coolhouse with lower temperature to resemble the mountain regions of Southeast Asia. I was especially intrigued by the funnel plants, which have a fluid-filled funnel that is lethal to insects. They are attracted to the scent inside, but once there, they cannot escape because the sides of the funnel are coated with slippery wax, and the lip has inward-pointing teeth like a barbed wire fence. Eventually, the poor insect drowns in the water and is digested by the plant.

After a couple of hours of walking, I chilled out at a coffee shop with an outdoor patio. I looked up and noticed several little lizards crawling around the canvas overhang. I’ve heard these are very common in India—I guess they are just a normal tropical phenomenon.

Then I took the subway (MRT) to the city center. It’s a nice subway, very clean and efficient. You get a single mass transit card that you can use on buses, subways, etc all over town. How refreshing to have a public transportation system that is fully integrated and organized!

I was walking to the Singapore Art Museum when an older Singaporean fellow walked up beside me and said “Hello!” My American guard came up, and I wondered if it was OK to talk to him. But I went ahead and said hello. He asked where I was from, and when I said California, he said, “Oh! That is where HP Company started. Now they have a big plant here in Singapore. Just like so many of the major high-tech companies.”

It turned out he was a native Singaporean who had been here all of his 69 years. He approved very much of Lee Kuan Yew, and liked the fact that his son is now in charge. But one thing on his mind was the upcoming election, now just 14 days away. The People’s Action Party has been in power since the mid-50s, but now the Labor Party claims about 40% support. He explained that the problem is that Singapore is starting to become too nice. It has attracted lots of foreigners and has gotten very expensive (I can certainly vouch that only some of the shopping is really a good deal. Much of it is just like Tokyo, Hong Kong, or New York). For some of the regular-Joe Singaporeans, it is getting hard to make a decent living or to enjoy all that their homeland has to offer.

As we talked, it began to rain. And here, the rain is serious rain. You have to get your butt under cover pretty fast, so we dashed toward the last street to cross before the art museum. But he (even at age 69) was sprier than me and was willing to run in front of advancing traffic. I hung back to wait for the green crosswalk signal, by which time he had melted off into the crowd. It was an interesting encounter.

The art museum was quite small, but worth the $3. One exhibit featured eight contemporary Singaporean artists, all with quite unique styles. Most were painters, but one specialized in pottery, and another did both painting and performance art. The galleries were intimate, and showed a wide range of each artist’s work along with quite a detailed description of their life and philosophy about art.

Another exhibit moved out to other Southeast Asian artists, such as from Malaysia and Indonesia. These dealt with darker modern themes of the alienation people feel in cities, the encroachment of Western culture into traditional cultures, and the destruction of nature. One section was devoted to works by students at a local art college, and there was clearly some talent there (at least to my untrained eye!).

Overall, it is easy to sense the flux in Southeast Asia. But this is not just due to the current shift toward globalization and a more integrated and city-oriented culture. These countries passed through a long colonial stage that ended around WWII, after which they spent the rest of the 20th century struggling with nation-building. It is no wonder that their national identities are a bit shaky.

Anyway, there’s a lot more to see and understand here. I’m sure my first impressions are about as reliable as first impressions ever are, so I apologize if I have misrepresented anything.

Oh — one more thing. I couldn’t resist going into a shop called “Condom Time” (or something like that; the exact name escapes me right now). It had a full selection of goofy condoms with funny shapes for the “head” — examples include dogs, cats, famous cartoon characters, types of food, etc. In addition, there were sex toys like glow-in-the-dark handcuffs and edible underwear. And don’t forget to pick up a penis-shaped keychain, lollipop, or candle while you’re there!

This place is really not that repressive.

Singapore, ho!

Yesterday I flew from Japan to Singapore, the farthest south on the Earth that I have ever been. Singapore sits basically on the equator, smack in the middle of the tropics. It is about 6.5 hours south of Japan—quite a significant flight.

Sure enough, when I arrived it was raining and about 82 degrees F. Nice and damp. My hotel sent a guy to pick me up, so I was greeted by a sign with my name on it (those always feel strange to me). I changed some money, and got to see the new plastic $2 bills. They drive on the left in Singapore, a legacy of being a British colony.

My hotel is on Orchard Road, the primary fancy shopping street (think 5th Avenue or something equivalent). Although I was tired when I arrived, I ventured out on a walk just to see the neighborhood. It is endless shopping and restaurants in this neighborhood. The most interesting thing was the street vendors. I picked up some fresh blueberry juice from a small stand, although I was a bit tempted to try to the water chestnut juice, or something called “soursop.” Maybe another day.

Then I collapsed in bed. I woke up later than I expected (6:30 am), and then realized why. It is still pitch black at 6:30 in Singapore, and the sun sets earlier here also than it does in California right now. It’s on the equator—you just don’t get the long days during spring/summer (and the short days during fall/winter) like you do in the northern or southern hemispheres. It’s not such a huge difference right now because we just passed the vernal equinox, but I bet it’s quite noticeable around the solstices.

The other thing about the equator is that the sun passes directly overheard, rather than to the south like it does in the northern hemisphere. I was expecting this to be a noticeable effect because I know people who have been to Australia and say it is disconcerting to have the sun pass to the north. But in fact, it is often cloudy here in Singapore, so the location of the sun isn’t actually all that evident.

Anyway, as noted in an earlier post on Lee Kuan Yew, Singapore is basically a benign dictatorship. There are lots of rules that are apparently well-enforced, but if people obey, they are quite free. I would say that in the course of normal life (eating, being a tourist, shopping, traveling), Singapore is indistinguishable from the US, Western Europe, Japan, or even Korea or Taiwan. In fact, it is far neater and cleaner than the US. And it is more ethnically diverse than anywhere I have been, including Hong Kong, New York City, and San Francisco. The thought crossed my mind that with the (large) exception of a dearth of Latin Americans, and also not too many Africans, Singapore might represent a reasonably proportional mix of the world’s people: Lots of Chinese and Indians, a fair number of other Asians and Arabs, and a smattering of Caucasians.

I’ll be here for a week, mostly doing business, but also exploring. Sounds like fun!

Triple language connection

On the way to a wonderful sushi dinner, we took the Kyoto subway. I was sitting next to a Japanese woman reading, of all things, a German textbook. It had various German sentences, and their Japanese translation, and she was deep in studying. But I couldn’t resist the opportunity to use all three of the languages I know, so I leaned over and said, “Sumimasen—Sprechen Sie deutsch?” (Excuse me [Japanese], do you speak German? [German])

She smiled, and said she was learning it. We struggled through a few sentences in German — each with our respective accents :-). She asked if I was German, and I explained that I was American, but that I also spoke German. I mentioned that I knew only a little bit of Japanesisch [German for Japanese], and she didn’t understand that word, so I translated it to nihongo.

We got off at the next stop, so I just had time to add, “Hier muss ich gehen! Aufwiedersehen! And nice to meet you!”

What a trip! I found it was a little hard to separate the German and Japanese in my head. It was like I was accessing the general bin called “foreign languages,” and various phrases would come up when I wanted to say something. Then I had to check them consciously to see if they were German or Japanese. I almost created some mixed sentences like, “Watashi wa nur ein bisschen Japanesisch hanasemasu.” Ooof. I can see why people who are bilingual often speak mixed sentences among other people who are bilingual in the same languages.

Food and culture

Trip logs are not complete without mentioning the food, of course! I’ve been treated to some fabulous gustatory delights during my stay in Japan.

Sushi fest!

My colleague has a favorite sushi joint where he knows the owner. It’s a tiny little place tucked away on a side street of Kyoto; foreigners are not likely to get there without a native.

As we entered, a mixed party of Japanese and Westerners, young and old, were departing. The owner told us they were from Kyodai (a contraction for Kyoto Daigaku, or Kyoto University). The young, hip-looking Japanese woman was a new professor of architecture at the university, and the older European man was a visiting professor of civil engineering from Spain. Accompanying them were two students, one Asian and one European. They were talking about designing and building bridges.

We settled in at the sushi bar, which allows about 12 people max, among small groups of business men. The owner wiped down the ledge in front of us where the food is served—they just put it right on the counter—and laid out fresh sashimi. Red snapper, glistening maguro, and hamo, a local Kyoto fish with ruffled flesh (it is served cooked). Apparently the hamo season has just begun, so the fish is still a bit young. It is best in June, then goes out of season in September.

Then we munched on abalone (cooked over a fire in the shell), anago (sea eel), and hotate (scallop). I had never had abalone—my main contact with it was in the form of the abalone soup that is common at Asian breakfasts. I never feel like eating it in the morning, so I haven’t tried it. It is a little rubbery when cooked, and doesn’t have much flavor. My colleague told me that you can also eat it raw, but it is very tough and almost crunchy; he didn’t recommend it, actually.

We moved on to sushi, sampling ebi (shrimp) and ika (squid). And also temaki (handrolls) of uni (sea urchin) and maguro. Finally, we finished off with toro soup (fatty tuna—richer and higher-grade than maguro). Accompanying it all was beer and hot sake. I was stuffed, but not in a heavy way; this kind of food is so light that you can fill up and not pay for it all night.

This is what I come to Japan for!

More Japanese!

On a different night, we went to a small family-owned restaurant, again with bar seating for no more than 15 or so. Here we tried a variety of dishes, all of which were fabulous. Here are just a few of them:

Take-no-ko. These are baby bamboo shoots, cut from the ground as they emerge at the base of a big bamboo. They are very tender when cooked, like young asparagus, and apparently this is the season for them. (Note that ko means “child,” so these are bamboo children).

Tempura. Not just any tempura, but an interesting kind made from flounder. The fish was cut away from the skin and batter-fried, while the skin and bones were deep fried into a potato-chip-like consistency. Flounder bones are thin and light, so this “flounder chip” can be eaten as-is. It is served with salt, and you just break off potato-chip-sized pieces, dip them in the salt, and eat them. Probably a great source of calcium!

Bonito. It is bonito season! This is a small red fish that tastes a bit like tuna. It served with the outside seared like tuna is sometimes done in the United States. It might be mackerel, I’m not sure. Anyway, bonito is also the fish used to make dashi, the broth in miso soup.

Good stuff.

India in Japan?

Coming from the Bay Area, I am well accustomed to seeing Indian people everywhere. But in my two most recent trips to Asia, I have noticed increasing numbers of Indians in other countries too. In Korea last month, I saw a large party emerging from the Samsung building at lunchtime—in other words, they were regular employees. And within 10 minutes’ walking distance from my hotel in Tokyo, there were three Indian restaurants. We went to one with one of my Indian colleagues.

The chef was Indian, and the menu was filled with both north and south Indian delights, including naan, tandoori, tika, palak paneer, saag, chana masala, biryani, daal, and raita. We tried a variety of items, and all were quite authentic-tasting (according to the expert at our table). They were even quite hot, which surprised me given that most Japanese I have met do not like spicy food (with the exception of wasabi, which certainly isn’t spicy in the hot-chili sense of the word, Japanese food is quite mild). Luckily, the waiter was quick with the water jug, and the draft beer from Sapporo helped too.

Later I found out that there is now an Indian restaurant in Kyoto also. It turned out to be very useful that we could go to an Indian restaurant because several of my colleagues are vegetarian, which can be a difficult prospect in many parts of Asia. (Japan in particular—there seem to be few “standard” dishes that are meat- and fish-free. Of course there is vegetable tempura and tofu, but almost everything else has fish, including miso soup and many noodle dishes).

Starbucks

Yes, there are many Starbucks in Asia now. I needed to use up some change in the Kansai Airport, so I stopped for a frappucino. I was intrigued to see an unfamiliar flavor among all the standard ones: “rhumba.” This means rum, so I tried it. Indeed, it had a hint of rum flavor, as well as some little rum candies in it, and it came with whipped cream and a squirt of chocolate sauce. Somewhat more logically than in the US, the sizes of drink are “short,” “tall,” and “grande.”

Lunch box surprise

We had a meeting at a big company that treated us to a fancy “box lunch” on the top floor of their headquarters (excellent view of Kyoto and the surrounding mountains!). Box lunches in Japan are not cheap deals. This one was a stately-looking lacquered box with about 8 compartments filled with little delights. Bonito, seared miso cod, tempura, omelet cube, steamed vegetables, a Chinese bun, etc. But what caught my attention was the rice.

It was sprinkled with something fuchsia-colored that had a tart, slightly fruity taste. Like infused vinegar, but in the form of a dry seasoning.

I asked my colleague about it later, and he told me it is called shiso. It is a preservative that is used to make maeboshi -- fermented plums –- and it comes from a flower. (If you’ve had these plums, you know they are bright red, not a natural plum color. The tint comes from the shiso). The substance originated from times before refrigeration, when fermenting was a good way to protect against spoilage in the hot, damp summer months. Then someone figured out that shiso is also good sprinkled on rice. I agreed!

Living art

Greetings from Japan! I just spent a few days in Tokyo, and have now moved on to Kyoto. It is a new year here (starts April 1), and there is much tradition to celebrate.

I have at last witnessed the cherry blossoms in Japan! The sakura were in full bloom a bit before I arrived, but there are still plenty of trees putting out the delicate pink flowers. I hadn't realized that there are dozens of varieties of cherry blossom-- some that hang down like willow branches, others that cluster into fist-sized clumps resembling popcorn balls. All are gorgeous, simultaneously stately and delicate.

The other living art I witnessed last night was seeing the maiko and geiko of Kyoto. Geiko is the Kansai (western Japan) word for geisha, and this is the only place where they still exist in large numbers. A maiko is a geiko in training. April is dedicated to celebrating their continued presence, so they are especially prominent in the evenings, walking around in full dress. Many tourists were snapping pictures, which I suppose is all part of the things they are trained to patiently-- nay, gracefully!-- tolerate.

They indeed have white faces, tall sandals with angled soles, and perfectly sculpted hair decorated with various baubles. I am reminded of scenes from the recent movie Memoirs of a Geisha (based on the book), which I watched on the plane on the way over here. The movie, incidentally, has been well described as capturing the American view of Japan as mysterious, beautiful, and full of subterfuge. It also deals with the common theme of how much control we really have, versus simply drifting in the tides of fate.

And finally, I had a wonderful experience of high art in Kyoto. My colleague is a student at a famous pottery studio called Fujihira. This studio has been around for 200 years and houses some of the most famous artists in Kyoto. Even a simple cup from one of them can cost $1,000, while a set for the traditional tea ceremony can cost $100,000. For the second time, I had the indescribable honor of making a couple of pottery pieces at the studio, under the guidance of other students there. I am an earnest if untalented apprentice, and appreciate their patience with me.

If you are in Kyoto, I recommend visiting it. Check out the traditional wood-burning kilns!

Paying with plastic

What if "paying with plastic" meant using cash? I was intrigued to learn that Singapore is experimenting with plastic currency.

They tested a 10-dollar polymer note last year, which seemed to work well, so they are starting in with 2-dollar notes (colored purple!) this year. I hope to get a chance to see this currency when I am there in a couple weeks.

The idea is that plastic is much more durable than paper and hence will last about four times longer in circulation. This brings up an interesting point: who is in charge of retiring old paper bills that are becoming too munged-up to use?

A bit of digging reveals that old bills are sent back to the Federal Reserve, which shreds and buries them. It seems that anyone can do this, including private citizens. My guess is that many of the 30,000 "customers" that ask for replacement money from the Federal Reserve Bank are other banks-- that's why we always get such nice, crisp bills there. (Imagine what you'd think of your bank if they gave you old, wrinkled currency). Other businesses have little incentive to send old bills back-- it's easier just to pass the buck.

And sure enough, a cartoon makes it all clear.

But even if Singapore's polymer bills last four times longer than paper, they will still wear out. I wonder if it's recyclable plastic...

Inside information?

I am intrigued to hear about the recently discovered Gospel of Judas. This New York Times article (link probably time-sensitive) tells a bit about the history of its discovery and long road toward becoming public. It will likely feed religious scholars and graduate students the world over for quite a while. It's so rare in that field to get fresh material, eh?

But consider also this recent novel by Simon Mawer: The Gospel of Judas. It's a story about a priest who discovers a long-lost gospel of Judas that ends up leading him on a troubling path of self-doubt and self-discovery. It sounds like a great story, actually, especially since I know Mawer is quite talented with character creation from reading other things of his.

But it's a bit too coincidental, isn't it? It seems likely that Mawer actually heard about the real Gospel of Judas before it became public-- ie, sometime during its twisted path from discovery by farmers to landing in the hands of those who could properly protect it (a path it is still on, by the way). And then he wrote the book around it. Having the gospel go public ends up being great marketing for Mawer.

So that's good advice for authors: Dig around and find some obscure bit of truth that most people don't know about, or don't know about yet. Then base a novel on it!

Test superstition

I took the GMAT at a local testing center. They had computer accommodations for about 15 people, and there was a steady supply of people coming in and out. (Apparently there are many kinds of test given there; the woman I came in with was taking the TOEFL -- Test of English as a Foreign Language).

In the waiting room, there was a "take-a-number" set-up for getting checked in. I got number 12, and I noticed that the next one was "12b," followed by 14. The same was true on the lockers where we stored our stuff. I guess it's like the way American hotels don't have a 13th floor!

GMAT!

Today I took the GMAT, the Graduate Management Admissions Test. That's right, Kim is going to business school. If you'd told me this 10 years ago, I would have laughed heartily at your mistaken impression of what would interest me. But things are rather different now. I'm not just applying to any business school, I'm applying to the Bainbridge Graduate Institute and the Presidio School of Management, both of which offer an MBA in Sustainable Business.

These programs are very new, having only started up a few years ago. It is not like going to a big name business school like Harvard, the University of Chicago, or Berkeley. But at those places, students learn very little about sustainable business; it is an "extra" topic that still is not treated very seriously. These new programs are attempting to integrate "green" principles with the traditional business school curriculum, with the long-term idea of changing business from the inside out.

Some will scoff. Economic concerns are opposed to environmental concerns, aren't they? We are always told that we must choose (by some politicians and business leaders). And it's easy enough to imagine how to make business more expensive in light of environmental considerations: just take an existing process and add environmental design on top of it. But suppose instead that you redesign your process or product or business plan from the ground up so that it incorporates environmental factors throughout the whole thing. In many cases, this turns out to be less expensive than the original version. Sounds like it would improve the bottom line, eh? Some businesses are starting (slowly) to realize this.

People trained at Bainbridge and Presidio will be in a position to help bring these changes about. It won't be a quick process, but it's worthwhile work (when performed in an appropriate frame of mind). I am excited to apply the skills and intelligence I have to this effort.

It is often said that if you get an MBA at a school that isn't a "big name," it will not be worth much. But none of the top schools are teaching this material in a rigorous way yet. And besides, I'm not going there for the degree (I have a Ph.D. already!), I'm going for the people I'll be exposed to. I want to work with others who share these sentiments for the positive effect it could have in stimulating my own creativity and bringing about personal growth. It is well known that who you hang out with has a big effect on your mood and beliefs, including the belief of what is possible and what is worthwhile. Choose your associates carefully; they can have a large beneficial (or harmful) effect.

So, back to the GMAT. This is an interesting test. There are three sections: Analytical Writing, Quantitative, and Verbal. The writing part consists of two 30-minute essays, one where you write your views on an issue (the position you take doesn't matter, but you have to argue it well), and one where you assess the quality of someone else's argument (your opinion is not relevant).

The math part contains two types of questions, which are mixed together. One is Quantitative Reasoning (could be arithmetic, algebra, simple geometry), and the other is Data Sufficiency (where you evaluate whether you have enough information to answer a question). The Data Sufficiency ones are really tricky, actually. I was very glad that I had practiced with those, and still felt the least confident on them in general.

The verbal part has three types of questions, all mixed together: Sentence Correction, Analytical Reasoning (drawing inferences or strengthening/weakening arguments in short written passages), and Reading Comprehension. Of these, I liked the Sentence Correction best because rules of grammar are fairly intuitive to me, while the others tended to require more judgment. Some of the sentences they had us correct were really awful sentences anyway, I have to say! Even the grammatically correct versions were sometimes more of a mouthful than I would write.

The GMAT is a "CAT" -- computer adaptive test. That means the test questions are different for every person. You start out with a medium-level question, and if you get it right, the computer gives you a harder one, while if you get it wrong, the computer gives you an easier one. Throughout the test, the computer is trying to find the level where you get about half the questions right. Everyone will do the same number of questions in the same amount of time, but some people will have harder ones than others.

So getting asked hard questions is good. If you get a hard one right, it counts more for your score than getting an easy one right. And getting a hard one wrong doesn't hurt you very much; you just get an easier one next time, so the penalty comes because you can't get as many points for getting that easy one right.

I think it's pretty fascinating. They have enough statistical data on these questions, apparently, to be able to judge which questions should be called "easy" or "hard" (hmm, sounds like a Data Sufficiency question to me!).

The CAT has the advantage of basically eliminating cheating. It won't help at all to look on someone else's screen because they are taking a different test. The major challenge with the CAT is that you must proceeed linearly through the questions. There is no way to skip a hard one or come back later to change an answer if you get a flash of insight. You must answer each question before the next one will be presented to you, and you can't go back.

A couple of strategic points: It's worth spending time on the first few questions to ensure that you get them right. This will catapult you into the harder questions faster, which is where you want to be. Also, there is no point in having time left on the clock at the end. You can't use it for checking answers. And yet, you don't want to get so time-crunched that you don't get to questions at the end. Leaving questions unanswered is a greater penalty than getting a wrong answer. So it's a good idea to do some practice tests ahead of time so you know whether your tendency is to be crunched for time on math, but have plenty of time on verbal, or vice versa, or whatever. Then you can budget your time more effectively on the real test.

The other cool thing about the CAT is that you get your score immediately on the math and verbal parts. (Why not? The computer was keeping track all along). These are technically "unofficial," and must be combined later with your score on the writing section (which is graded partly by computer, then checked by humans). But for what it's worth, here's what I got:

Quantitative: 44 (90th percentile)
Verbal: 49 (97th percentile)
Total: 760 (99th percentile)

Not bad. :-)

[By the way, that's not the new math. The verbal and quant sections are given a "scaled score" from 0 to 60, which is converted by some formula to a total score ranging from 200 to 800.]

It's mentally tiring. You start out by writing for an hour, then get a 10-minute break. Then you do 75 minutes of math, then another 10-minute break. And then 75 minutes of verbal. Whew!

Actually, I think the fact that you have to switch around and do different mental tasks in different sections is really good. It's exactly what you need to do as a manager, where all kinds of stuff gets thrown at you and you have to respond.

In fact, I caught myself thinking that if all managers were adept at the sorts of things the GMAT tests, business might run pretty well. Of course, half the people who take the test score below the 50th percentile (but presumably not all of them become managers). And the other, more hidden, assumption in that logic is that people who don't score well wouldn't be good managers. I'm actually less certain of that. Standardized tests tend to be only mediocre at predicting actual performance in the long term, although they may be better at predicting success in school. But I know too many exceptions-- people who do poorly on tests but are incredibly bright, effective, and successful in their careers-- to place serious stock in tests like the GMAT.

But most schools treat the GMAT as part of a whole. Other factors include a personal statement, an interview, and letters of recommendation, all of which allow a much broader view of the candidate. So overall, I don't think this test is widely misused.

The whole experience has been pretty interesting, actually.

Lee Kuan Yew

I am preparing for a trip to Singapore later this month-- my first time there. So I read a short history of this tiny nation-state to get some background. Anthony Oei's What If There Had Been No Lee Kuan Yew? is a sympathetic history of Lee's rise to power and rule over Singapore for nearly 40 years.

Extremely brief overview: Singapore sits on the tip of the Malaysian penninsula, and the two countries have always been intimately linked. During the colonial period, Singapore became a British colony. They considered it strategic both as a port/trade city and a military base. Although the British were not harsh rulers, the Singaporeans found them arrogant.

However, the only thing that proved worse than British rule was Japanese occupation. Singapore fell to the Japanese in just three weeks during WWII. (So much for being a strong military outpost.) They instituted martial law, which included killing people who didn't obey the increasingly oppressive rules.

It was almost a relief to get the British back after WWII, but not surprisingly, a strong anti-colonialist movement began. It was an ungainly alliance of several competing political interests, which agreed to work together for the common purpose of ejecting the British and setting up self-rule, possibly including union with Malaysia.

To make a long story short, the ultimate victors were the People's Action Party (PAP) led by the young, British-educated lawyer, Lee Kuan Yew. He assumed power and ended up breaking the alliance with the Communists, having decided that their interests no longer aligned. Remember that this was the mid-50's, the height of the Cold War. It mattered a lot whether you were even remotely associated with Communists.

There was a brief period of union with Malaysia, but the alliance did not work out. It was a complex situation. Some worried about the high proportion of Chinese in Singapore compared to Malaysia proper (the Communist threat). The two countries had been on different paths for a while, and it was not clear that it was the right time to unite. The end result was that the countries agreed to separate again after just a few years. Lee cried when he made the announcement; it had been a lifelong dream to be one with Malaysia. (The author, Oei, portrays this segment of history as tragic. In contrast, a Taiwanese friend of mine quipped, "Oh yeah-- Malaysia threw Singapore out.")

After that, Lee concentrated on building Singapore into a more modern and wealthy state. He was remarkably successful. There were costs-- tough rules, heavy government control, etc. But on the whole, Lee qualifies as an archtypical "benign dictator." Theoretically, the best form of government.

[Actually, I am not sure quite how the political system works. There are elections and multiple political parties. And I don't think people are pressured into voting for the guys in power through sham elections. And yet, Lee retained nearly complete power through seven elections. Could it really be that he was so effective that people didn't want to vote him out? Also, I'm not sure there are any Constitutionally-protected rights for the people, or even that elections are guaranteed to occur at certain intervals. So in that sense, it is a dictatorship.]

In an amazing move for a dictator, Lee stepped down peacefully from office, having carefully groomed a successor. He now lives among his people as a normal citizen. I think he is still alive-- he should be 83 now.

I found some information on Wikipedia, also:

After leading the PAP in seven victorious elections, Lee stepped down on 28 November 1990, handing over the prime minister position to Goh Chok Tong. He was then the longest serving Prime Minister ever.

This leadership transition was meticulously planned and executed. The recruitment and grooming for the second generation leaders took place as early as 1970s. In the 1980s, Goh and the younger leaders started to assume important cabinet positions. Prior to the official transition, all other first generation leaders (the "old guards") were retired, including Goh Keng Swee, S. Rajaratnam and Toh Chin Chye. Being so thoroughly planned, the transition was quite a non-event in Singapore, even though it was the first leadership transition since independence. By stepping down when he was still mentally alert and in good health, Lee set himself apart from other strong contemporary Asian leaders such as Mao Zedong, Suharto, Ferdinand Marcos, and Ne Win, who had stayed in power for too long and left their countries in disarray.

As Goh Chok Tong became the head of government, Lee remained in the cabinet with a non-executive position of Senior Minister and played a role he described as advisory. In public, Lee would refer to Goh as "my Prime Minister", in deference to Goh's authority. Nonetheless, Lee's opinions still carry much weight with the public and in the cabinet. He continues to wield enormous influence in the country and is ready to use it when necessary. As he said in a 1988 National Day rally:

"Even from my sick bed, even if you are going to lower me into the grave and I feel something is going wrong, I will get up."

Lee subsequently stepped down as the Secretary-General of the PAP and was succeeded by Goh Chok Tong in November 1992.

Lee refrained from official dealings with all ASEAN governments, including Malaysia, so as not to cross lines with his successor, Goh Chok Tong. He played a major role, however, with regard to the economy, such as with the agreement of the transfer of public-administration software for the development and management of Suzhou's Industrial Park with then Vice-president Li Lanqing on February 26, 1994.

Interestingly, Goh also chose to step down. He transferred power to Lee Kuan Yew's son:

On 12 August 2004 Goh Chok Tong stepped down in favour of Lee's eldest son, Lee Hsien Loong. Goh became the Senior Minister and Lee Kuan Yew assumed a new cabinet position of Minister Mentor.

My aunt and uncle have been to Singapore. Apparently seeing the way people live there caused my aunt to comment on how much can get done when politicians aren't spending the majority of their time and money trying to get re-elected. Of course there are downsides to that, but it's worth pondering. For the case of Singapore-- a small, highly culturally-diverse nation-state-- this form of government has worked well for half a century. Not bad.

According to people I know who have visited Singapore, people there have plenty to eat, can get a job, and are generally happy. And they are allowed to leave if they aren't happy. Sounds pretty good.

I look forward to seeing for myself what it is like.

FloodMaps

It seems that I am interested in how to survive environmental challenges these days. Check out this site called FloodMaps, which shows the effect of a sea level rise on various places around the globe. It's a mashup of Google Maps and NASA elevation data.

For instance, I tried the San Francisco Bay Area under a 7-meter sea-level rise. This is the rise expected if Greenland's glacial ice pack melts completely. It certainly has a different shape, and would be a greater effect than Katrina was on New Orleans.

Kudos to those who put this together. These types of tools and visualizations are important for helping us to understand the climate data we are taking, the better to act wisely.