The Trouble with Cinderella

Yesterday, my wife and I took our girls to see Kenneth Branagh's version of Cinderella. While I am not going to be bragging here about the quality of the movie, I thought it was admittedly quite entertaining and well made, to say the least, although none of the actors are unknown to me, except Cate Blanchett who interpreted the role of the stepmother with her classic style. The visual effects obviously help add up to the magic they are due to showcase to children.

The fairy tale is so classic that you may remember every single twist of it. However, as a parent, I found one troubling fact about the movie, particularly knowing that my kids were there watching.

Nearly all the leading and supporting characters in the movie has a line to say "Have courage and be kind". And they say it over and over. With the latter ("be kind"), I simply have no issue. I bet it's in every parent's advisory book to their children.

Yet, the "have courage" part is what I intrigued me the most. It does not seem to resonate with the way Cinderella handles her domestic abuse from her stepmother and stepsisters. As the main character who is supposedly a role model for every girl, she does not reflect the girl power, defiance, courage nor boldness, unlike Elsa or Anna in Frozen or Merida in Brave.

At one point in the movie, I started to get excited when Cinderella showed a slight courage to challenge her stepmother when they were having an argument over the glass shoe. I thought we would see some unexpected twist of the story. But my hope was cut too short. Shortly, we were reminded again how submissive Cinderella was after her stepmother locked her in inside the attic. She just gave in.

To her defense though, she says it clearly that she does it all for the sake of keeping her promise to her parents to cherish the house they love. This, I agree! Keeping a promise is a lesson that our kids can learn.

Cinderella is fragile and unfortunately irrelevant. Being kind does not always have to be tame or subdued. Being kind does not always mean you have to suffer to make people happy. Being kind does not mean you have to give in your courage.

After all, the movie is rated PG. As parents, it is our responsibility to remain critical and to teach our kids about the values in life.

My First Full Marathon: a Little Drama and a Picture with a Paramedic

Dubai Marathon 2013 was just over. Another milestone in life was accomplished. Words can't describe how happy I was upon crossing the finish line. Seconds after, a flashback rolled inside my mind. I recalled everything that I had been through: the grueling pains during the practices, early morning runs in the cold, dark winter days whilst everyone else was still enjoying their pillows, my diet restrictions and so forth.

Above all, what I remembered the most was a little drama that occurred just before the start of the marathon. I was crossing the grass barrier that separated the crowd from the warm-up area. Intending not to step on the nicely planted flowers, I hopped over and landed my right foot in a completely wrong way and sprained my ankle. I couldn’t get up and thought this was the end. My dream to run my first marathon was all over.

The day was still dark. I was sitting alone on the black top in pain. It was only 20 minutes before the start. Two fellow marathoners apparently saw what had happened and offered some help, but I said I'd be fine. Would I? I didn’t know if I’d be okay. I didn’t know if I’d be able to make it. I was deeply sad, regretting what had just happened. I thought I was stupid enough to do such a thing while I had previously been very cautious about my preparations, making sure I would not get injured or do something silly. I thought,"This is not happening now. It can't be true."

My swollen ankle after the run

I closed my eyes, calmed myself and prayed. I comforted myself by saying that it was perhaps part of His masterplans. I composed myself and collected my strength. Slowly got up and made small walking steps. I felt it was not as bad as I had thought before. After applying cold spray, I weathered the storm by starting to attempt a little jog for a minute or two. I prayed again,"God, please don’t give up on me now."

The consoling part is that I hardly felt any pain anymore, so I carefully walked to the start line, which was about 200 meters away. At this point, I still had a mixed feeling about my feet as to whether I would be able to make hours of running. Then just five minutes before the start, I felt something weird on my right shoe. I touched my ankle and found a pretty bad swelling. I scanned around and spotted two paramedics in their bikes nearby. I quickly explained to them about what had just happened and asked for an ice pack for a cold compression. One of the paramedics examined my ankle and frowned,”This doesn't look good. Are you sure you still want to run?" I swiftly responded,” Yes, I do!" He did not say anything further nor argue, but I could see he scowled even more. Obviously, he was very concerned.

While I was pressing the ice pack on my right ankle, the paramedic asked me if he could take a picture of me. I wondered why. He said,"It’s a proof for our office that we are useful during this event." His response put a smile on my face. I nodded in approval and muttered,"Indeed, you have been very helpful!" So, he asked his colleague to take a shot of us using his smartphone. Cheers to the first injured of the day!

When he was wrapping my ankle with a cold compress bandage, we both heard the marathon had just started. I was about 100 meters behind the start line and obviously late for the start. A few minutes later I found myself chasing a pack of 2,000+ marathon enthusiasts.

We were engulfed with dense winter fog at seven in the morning. Cool and dry weather at 15 degC. The atmosphere was fantastic. Off I ran my first marathon, leaving Burj Khalifa – the world’s tallest tower - behind us and leaving that little ankle drama with a single purpose in mind: to finish my first marathon in one piece no matter how long it would take.

For the first few kilometers, I kept doing my routine mental check on my right foot. Everything seemed fine. I hardly felt any pain, perhaps thanks to the bandage. So, my self-confidence slowly returned, running at my comfortable pace. The crowds by the streets who were cheering for us helped boost our spirits. Along the way, I saw a marathoner bare-footed, a couple in cool green jumpsuits and many people in grey hair (my hat off to them!).

The first 10k... smooth...

The track of Dubai marathon was mostly flat, but the unique challenge came when we all started to hit Jumeirah Beach Road after km10. It was long and straight 12 kms on one side and the same distance on the way back. So, mentally we had to be prepared for this seemingly endless route.

At km30 my right ankle began to act up. I didn’t know whether it was the swelling or the fatigue or the combination of both. I then decided to stop for a pee while stretching my legs. The pit stop, however, didn’t help much. I started to feel a slight pain. So, I decided to ease my pace, combining fast walk and run to prevent the pain from getting worse. In a normal condition, the last 10 kms were perhaps the toughest part, mentally and physically. Now with my little handicap, another burden was added to the challenge.

This was a critical moment where I subconsciously heard an angel and a demon fighting over my head, each telling me to carry on or to give up. I knew no one could help me to beat the demon, other than myself. On a positive note, seeing other marathoners, particularly much older fellows, and the cheers of the spectators made me feel I was not fighting alone. The thought of the arduous training in the last few weeks made my efforts worthwhile. Why giving up now, while I was only 10 kms away to finish it?

Needless to say, that was the longest 10 kms in my life….

When I saw the finish line, I felt energized again. I thought,”Whatever happened, I’m going to finish this in style.” It was a defining moment when I finally reached the line. My wife had patiently been waiting there for me in the heat, although her 10k race was concluded hours before. I saw her in tears (at this point she still didn't know the ankle 'drama' as yet). Then I started getting teary eyes too. We hugged. We both were happy that I had made it. The challenge was now over and I won! I am proud of myself. I am even prouder to say that I did it at the age of 40!

A happy camp after all was over

I completed my first marathon in just one second shy from five hours (4h59m59s net), but seriously the timing was not as important as the lessons I learned from the whole experience, from the severe training until that finish line. Never before had I pushed myself to the same limit - mentally and physically. If anyone thought marathon is only about running and endurance, it is simply an understatement. Marathon is more than that. It is about self-discipline and self-determination. It is about how you set a challenge and a goal for yourself and push the limit to achieve it. It is about knowing your strengths and limitations. It is about defeating your demon. It is about not giving up easily. It is about commitment and perseverance. It is about doing a crazy idea once in a lifetime. It is about planning and execution. It is about a mental game....

Marathon is also about paying forward. Just over two weeks before the M-Day, I had decided to fund raise for the Foundation for Mother and Child Health (FMCH). I thought it would be wonderful to make a meaning to all my efforts by helping people at the same time. While writing this blog, I was blown away by the generosity of 46 family members and friends who have collectively donated USD 2,300+ to FMCH through my fundraising page http://www.justgiving.com/novel4kidz. I intend to open the page until February 3, 2013, to give an opportunity for those who are still willing to participate.

Seeing how people supported my efforts was incredibly uplifting. Above all, when some people said to me sincerely that I had inspired them with what I had done… that’s simply humbling. I do hope my efforts would inspire people to live a healthy life and do something for others.

At the finish line, I ran into the same paramedic. He was stunned upon seeing me. “You are the same person who got the swollen ankle, right?” I smiled and nodded. “Did you finish the marathon?”He continued. “Yes!” I replied whilst showing him my medal. He shook his head in disbelief. Too bad, I forgot to ask him to take a picture together with me, yet I didn’t forget to say to him,”Thank you very much for your help!”

A Radio Interview

This morning on the way to the office I was listening to one of Dubai radio stations – a business-oriented station. Two broadcasters were interviewing a lady who happened to be, if I’m not mistaken, the Director of Human Resources for a new water park that is to be open next week in Ras Al Khaimah (RAK) – one of the emirates in the UAE, which is situated about 45 to 60-minute drive from Dubai.

After a few minutes of conversation which sounded to me more like a sales pitch, I sensed that the two broadcasters started to feel frustrated, simply because they hardly received direct answers from the lady. Nonetheless, they kept on going with more questions. This time some questions around marketing strategy. Very spot-on rational, I think, considering that the new park would definitely have strong contenders from the like in Dubai, namely the Wild Wadi and the Atlantis’ Aquaventure, which have already been in the market for quite some time, easily accessible and hence, are arguably more popular amongst the UAE residents and visitors.

Here is an excerpt from the interview as far as I can recall.

Q: Apart from ticket revenues, from where else do you expect your revenue stream will be coming from?
A: By paying 250 Dirhams for an adult ticket and 175 for a child ticket, they can enjoy our facilities.
(Me : *tapping my forehead once* Douuhh!!)

Q: I mean, do you tie in with some commercial contracts to tap in more revenue? I saw on your website that you are inviting commercial or franchising opportunities within your water park….
A: Oh yes, people will spend at least 2 hours in our park. They will eat and drink there. There is a huge commercial opportunity for everyone.
(Me: *sigh* finally, at least a little bit of common sense here)

Q: How many visitors are you expecting in a year?
A: Between 300,000 and 1 million.
(Me: Wow! What an estimate! With 700,000 gap between the lowest and the highest estimation… hhmmm… what drug was she on?)

Q: How did you go about your market research? From where do you expect the visitors to come?
A: Everybody likes to go to water park. We expect people coming from the UAE, Middle East and international.
(Me: Everybody? Really? Do people from outside the UAE know where RAK is?)

Q: But how would you expect visitors who fly to Abu Dhabi and Dubai to travel by taxi or bus for an hour or so to reach your water park, while they can do the same in Dubai in a matter of a few kilometers? And how would expect those people to come to your park, when there is still no international flight coming to RAK?
A: Ras Al Khaimah is growing. People would love to come to our park.
(Me: *tapping my forehead for the second time* Douuhh!!)

If you think I was wasting my time by listening to that type of conversation, it’s not entirely true. In fact, I kinda enjoyed it a little, contemplating what the two broadcasters could possibly say to each other off air.

After all, that fiasco was not entirely the lady’s fault. Someone had not done their homework prior to the interview. Firstly, if the interview was about promoting a new water park, why the heck did the company permit the HR director to do the interview, instead of their Marketing Director or PR staff? Secondly, the broadcasters must have previously been informed of her title, why would then they keep on asking about marketing stuffs, which were literally not her territory. Thirdly, if she had replied with “I don’t know the answer” to a few of those questions, it would have sounded better than uttering meaningless words that could only embarrass herself.

(Me : *tapping my forehead for the third time*).

Life in Dubai: 10 Circumstances Where You Need to Put Your Yoga into Practice

Dubai is a unique place. Modern, sophisticated and megapolitan from the outside, yet people can be primordial in many circumstances. I just wanted to share my own experience having lived in this city - ten things that could potentially make you raise your eyebrow. If you are currently living or lived there before, you may find yourself nodding in agreement too.

1. Five Minutes… I am Coming!
When you are expecting Mr. Fix-It at your place, be it an AC technician, a plumber, an electrician, etc, soon enough you’ll get acquainted with the real Dubai. For some (cultural) reason, in most cases I’ve dealt with, they never turn up in time, let alone on time! And when you call them, they’ll lightly reply,” I am coming in five minutes.” Five minutes pass, no one turns up. You call them again and again and you’ll get the same response. Put your yoga into practice: breathing in, breathing out. Don’t be surprised if they eventually arrive five hours (or even more!) later at your doorstep! (Yeah, that could be the longest five minutes in your life). Pretending as if nothing is out of ordinary, they’ll then come up with Bollywood excuses: my car broke down, my cat is expired (indeed, they often use this word instead of ‘dead’), my grandmother was locked in the bathroom… as if you care. Again, breathing in, breathing out…. Just make sure you keep your baseball bat or your golf clubs away when they dare to show up at all.

2. The Kings of the Road
Tailgating is annoying, short-minded and lethal! Tailgaters are simply the nastiest creatures on the roads, particularly in a two-lane road with a speed limit of mere 70 kph. I dare to say that it is an act of harassment which should be punished harshly. Unfortunately, over the years, it has become an infectiously ill-fated behavior, which I initially thought only belonged to the locals. But these days you’ll find the tailgaters can be expats too. Guess, who they have learned the attitude from.

3. 80/20 Principle
You will experience this at any governmental offices or local companies (e.g. Etisalat). You are lining up for the customer service. You take the token, sit and wait for your turn. Soon, you will notice ten customer service counters with 10 staff behind the desks. You thought, hhmmm… impressive, they don’t let any single counter unattended. But then look carefully and scrutinize! Soon you’ll find out that only two counters are actually serving customers, the rest is ‘vacationing’ (I mean…. chit-chatting with their colleagues or over the phone, slowly sipping tea or coffee, fixing make-up or hijab, browsing, …). They are the true 80/20 principle practitioner.

4. White is Everyone’s Favorite Color
Some of the job ads on local papers can be shockingly and explicitly racist. Forget about equal opportunities here. Many of them are not ashamed of specifying the required nationalities or certain physical characteristics! If it reads “Looking for a white, blonde secretary….”, what do you call that? I call it the ‘R’ word! (Okay, I am exaggerating about the blonde. The word ‘blonde’ is never revealed. One the ‘white’ is).

5. My Name is Not Kabayan
Don’t feel offended when suddenly someone greets you,”Kabayan ka.…” As stunned as you might be, keep your cool and reply,”Nama gue bukan Kabayan. Sok tau luh!” (My name is not Kabayan!). It’s sufficient to make them either walk away or say sorry. The funny thing is there are only two types of Asians living in Dubai: Indian and Filipino – at least so they think. Other nationalities simply do not exist! Anyone coming from the Far East (or if your face looks like you’re from that region) will get a mental stamp “Filipino” on your forehead. Prejudice is always misleading. At least, if you’re not sure, don’t greet in your local language. Use English, for goodness’ sake.

6. Car Sale and Nationality
Life is very colorful in Dubai. So colorful that at times you come across a self-intriguing car-for-sale advertising on local papers. To give you an example (without trying to negate anyone): “Toyota Prado for sale – Brit*sh owner”. Every time I see such an ad, I am scratching my head. What could be the intention of the ad poster by putting his or her nationality on the ad? What could possibly be the connection between a car for sale and the owner nationality? What if we replace Brit*sh with, say, Ind*an? Would it make any difference? Maybe, but not on the value of the car per se. So much for superiority complex!

7. Who Are the Expats?
In Dubai, the word ‘expat’ can be bewildering. Who are the expats? Statistics show (although you’ll never get any accurate statistics here) that less than 20% of population is Emiratis, thus, that makes the rest literally expats. But the fact is people tend to misuse that word to describe certain nationalities – white skins or blue eyes, to be more specific.

8. Multitasking
If your company is seeking a multitasker of a high caliber, go hire from Dubai. Here, people are adept at multitasking: talking on the phone without a headset or texting while driving (I once red caught a police officer multitasking!). More interestingly, make sure you don’t miss out a breathtaking sight that you can only find here: drivers with one hand on the phone, the other hand on the steering wheel and their left foot on the dashboard! (I swear I’ll take a picture next time I get a chance to see it again!)

9. Don’t Worry, Kids, I am a Safe Driver!
Kids, when you are taking a ride in your Babba’s (Daddy’s) car, rest assured you are in the safe hands. Don’t bother wearing seatbelts (they are only for expats). Come and sit in the front. Feel free to pull down the window and stick your head out. And… enjoy our 120 kph ride!

10. What Apology?
This occurred during the opening match of the last World Cup. South Africa vs. Mexico. No one in this country had the opportunity to watch it live on the tv. Why? Because Jazeera Sports as the sole official broadcaster screwed up. All we’ve got was a black screen. Their help lines were disconnected, so no one could complain! The next day they announced that it was some sort of sabotage. Based on what? They were just trying to orchestrate a story of a scapegoat which I believed never existed. What about a compensation for the people who had paid no less than 300 Dirhams to get such an exclusive channel for the whole month? Zero! Apology? What apology? Screw the customers. They’ll understand and forgive us.

(11.) Why no. 11? I know I said ’10 Circumstances’ on the title, but I’ll really have to share this.
It just happened to me this Saturday on my weekend at 6.30 in the morning. Quite early indeed for a weekend morning. I was still in a deep sleep, when all of a sudden I heard a noise roaring from outside the house. So loud that even using my pillows to cover my ears would be of no use. I got out of my bed sluggishly and looked out of the window in awe. Our gardener was mowing the grass in our backyard just beneath our bedroom at this early hour! I was ready to scream at him. But then, breathing in, breathing out…. Half awake, I went downstairs and told him to stop immediately before the neighbors shouted and punched him in the face (well, the truth is, I would have punched him before our neighbors did :-)).

Those are my 10 reasons (or actually 11) for practicing my yoga without trying to diss Dubai at all. Next time I’ll post 10 things I like about the city to counterbalance those 10 ‘allegations’ – if anyone wants to call them that way. No matter where you live, there are always the likings and the dislikings about the place. Dubai is no exception.

Persepolis: Iran According to a (former) Iranian

An autobiography of Marjane Satrapi, whom I call a liberal Iranian woman (now lives in Paris), in a graphical black and white novel.

In fact, I was introduced to this book first in 2004 when I visited Karim, my best friend, in Beirut. He strongly recommended it. But I did not bother to buy them until it was recently adapted to an animated movie early last year (directed by Marjane herself and Vincent Parronaud). It immediately received a huge success in France, critically acclaimed and awared le prix de jury at the prestigious Cannes Film Festival last year. Now, it is on its way trying its luck at this year's Oscar.

I personally found the book interesting (Dita gave it to me as my birthday present). Whilst reading it, my mind drifted back to the years 2003-2005 during which I traveled quite frequently between Dubai and different parts of Iran for my recruiting job. I visited the universities and colleges in different towns and met a lot of Iranians. Although I never really lived in there, but my regular visits in the past allowed me to learn about their rich cultures, the people, the history and a little bit of politics. When I read Persepolis, it felt like I was having a deja vue. I feel like someone else has already told me a similar tale about Iran before. Yes,everything is similar to what I saw and heard back then. The black veils, the 'guardians', the satellite dish story, the underground party and so forth. In fact, I now have a few good friends from Iran.

During my visit, I always felt sorry for the people out there and for the current social and economical situations there. Persia used to be an extremely rich and well respected country. People lived in a good standard of living. They are rich of natural resources, including oil, but the classic question is "where has the money gone?" The gap between the rich and the pool is extremely huge! (You will find the rich Iranians investing in The Palm Dubai or living in LA. They even have a Persian tv channel over there! Many migrated to Canada or Scandinavia.)

Wandering around Iran, you feel like you are in the 60's. The infrastructure, the vehicles... how they look obsolete. Old local manufactured cars dominate the polutted streets. But you can still see old models of Peugeot or Citroen quite often. Many Japanese, Korean and French products benefit from the US embargo policy.

First impression about the people: they are very welcoming, although within the two-year time span I had a few bad impressions with some of them (I don't blame them for being too prejudice though). As I said, I have now some nice and warm-hearted Iranian friends. Once they know you well, they will respect the relationships.

Now, back to the book. In fact, Persepolis has nothing to do with its content. The setting was mainly in Tehran (and Vienna). Persepolis is the ancient name of Shiraz (historically famous for the wine) which I have visited once. Incredible Romanian ruins and some tombs of the Persian kings. Amongst the Iranian cities, I like Esfahan most. Very rich of cultures with some picturesque bridges.

The book is extremely entertaining with a lot of irony about the suppressed life in Iran. Marjane, an art graduate, has a unique way of storytelling through the black and white graphics. I then learned how comics can be the most effective way to convey a biography, particularly that of someone unheard of before, like Marjane). The only thing I do not agree is the way she depicts God in the book (I think she's way too liberal on this).

After finishing the book, we watched the dvd only last week. Like many books that were brought into big screens, most are disapppointing. Persepolis is unexceptional. Even though I admire the unique animation (the graphics are better than those in the book), 85 minutes seem a bit too short to convey every single thing from the book. As a result, you will find several parts have intentionally been omitted. Those who never read the book before perhaps will find it rather confusing.

Nevertheless, Persepolis is a breakthrough for animation movies, autobiographies and the people of Iran, although I personally doubt the movie itself will ever openly be out at cinemas in Iran. Apparently, Marjane seems more optimistic. She cited in one of the interviews that the people in Iran will find a way to watch her movie, even if it means to get it through a black market (as usual... like all banned Western music or movies).

Un chapeau pour Marjane Satrapi (a heavy smoker with a mole on her nose)! Bonne chance a Oscar!

You can find two inspiring interviews with Marjane here and here.

Marrakech (Part 3): Riad Zara... A Review

***As posted at tripadvisor.com, Jan 2, 2008***

“Riad Zara: Feels Like Home!”

'Excellent' may be an overrate. But 'home' is perhaps the proper word to describe Riad Zara. The moment we stepped into this maison d'hotes (guest house), we quickly felt like home with a very warm and sincere welcome extended by Monique, the owner. If anyone is looking for a customer service 'guru' in the hotelier industry, she should be the one to turn to. We have stayed in many different hotels, B&B or guest houses before. Never had we received such a homey service like that from Monique and her little team.

My wife was ill on the first two days in Marrakech. If it was not for Monique, we could not have imagined what would happen. She was willingly called a doctor and drove us to a hospital with her own car. She even stayed with us and explained to the doctor, until we were clear to go. She asked her son, Corentin (who was also very nice), to go to the pharmacy for us. She took care of my wife with a special soup and tea. She enjoyed playing and singing with my 2.5-yo daughter too.

On the Christmas eve, we sat for a Christmas dinner together with Monique’s family (her children paid her a visit from France) and otherguests. They even prepared some gifts for us! When you are away from home for Christmas, this is the least you could expect. But Monique made us feel like home.

Monique patiently explained to us the Medina map (whose maze-like alleys are quite confusing for the first timers), places to visit and some tips & tricks to bargain at the souks. Her details would complement the information you may get from a travel book or internet. She would also take her time to help other guests arrange a day trip out of town or even arrange a massage service at the riad itself.

They served nice local bread at breakfast with a variety of jams. If you decide to have lunch and dinner in there, they are quite flexible too. Their couscous and tagine are very competitive compared to the restaurants around Jemaa-el-Fna Square.

Obviously, there are many riads all over Medina you can opt for. But if you are looking for a cosy one, 15-minute walk from the Square and a lot of personal touch, I strongly recommend Riad Zara. However, there is one thing your should be aware of. Upon arrival at the airport, a lady was holding a Riad Zara board (exactly the same name!) which we immediately thought it was ‘our’ Riad Zara (FYI, Monique’s Riad Zara always clearly writes the guest names on the board for the airport pickup). After exchanging names etc, they took us to ‘their’ Riad Zara (inside the Medina too). They did not have any sign whatsoever outside the house. But then we realized it was a different one! We immediately walked to Monique’s Riad Zara. Although it was nobody’s fault, you should be aware of this! You should look for this one.

Marakech is not an "easy-to-access" city. Not like Paris, London or Barcelona, where you might find it easy to find anything you need on your own. As a tourist, you definitely need a local experience for a little guide, which you may get from the owner of the riad. However, when selecting a riad, beware that there are some riads in the Medina that are only managed by local staffs, i.e. the owner does not live there, hence you only deal with the staffs on day-to-day needs (you can consider yourself lucky if they speak a little bit of English or French... and for sure they speak Arabic).
_________________
This TripAdvisor Member:
Liked — Superb customer service attitude and homey
Disliked — N/A
Date of Stay: December 22-26, 2007
Traveled with: Family with young children
Visit was for: Quality time with family
Would I recommend this hotel to my best friend? Absolutely!
I recommend this hotel for: Young singles, An amazing honeymoon, A romantic getaway, Girlfriend getaway, Older travelers, Families with young children, Families with teenagers, Tourists
I do not recommend this hotel for: Great pool scene, Pet owners
I selected this hotel as a top choice for: Museums / Cultural / Historical sites, Other.

Au Revoir, Fumeurs

As of today, Jan 1, 2008, smoking is officially banned from public spaces all over France, including cafes, restaurants, bars etc. What good news for non-smokers!

Me, as a fanatic non-smoker, I can only jump up and down joy (sorry, smokers!). I can't agree more with the law. Non-smokers, including our kids, have every right too to inhale nice fresh air in public spaces without being polluted by the cigarettes.

Well, at least now when we go to a restaurant, we should not waste our time answering "smoking or no smoking" question. Nor should we worry of sitting in a non-smoking zone, yet still smelling the smoke. Nor should we worry of cigarette smell all over our hair, face, clothes or jackets upon leaving a cafe. Nor should we get mad at a smoker sitting and smoking ignorantly next to your little kids. Nor should we get our eyes red due to the smoke in a bar. Alleluya!

But until then, we should see how this law imposition goes....

Time Bridge (Happy New Year)

The first dawn
The first sunshine
Once again, we passed the time bridge
For as long as we live



Never look back
For it's a long way to go
Through thick and thin
We made no mistakes
Only lessons to be learned

A brand new year is here
Waiting to bring the best out in us
Be grateful for this opportunity
To give and take
And to grow in maturity

Welcome to another time bridge....

(Novel, Paris - Jan 1, 2008)

Marrakech (Part 2)

If there is one word to describe the owner of Riad Zara, it must be A-N-G-E-L.

Monique is the angel. She is a French mother, at her 50's, having lived in Marrakech for 3.5 years. Grenoble origin, she runs the maison d'hotes herself (with a couple of aides), whilst her kids live in France.

The first two days Dita was ill. It was Monique who helped us call the doctor and volunteerily take us to the hospital. She even stayed there with us whilst Dita was going through all the procedures. I felt God has sent us an angel. If it was not for her, we could not imagine what could happened during that difficult time.

If I could, I would tell and shout to the world of her kind and warm heart. In such a restless world, you hardly find anything like this. You don't even know that sincere heart still exists. We hardly know each other, yet she poured her compassion and sympathy like a mother to her child. Immediately, we felt like she was our mother in Marrakech.

She did not only do this to us, but every guest we met at Riad Zara showed their satisfaction of her personal approach. It makes a difference. We also had Christmas dinner (big dinner indeed, with 7 rounds!) together with Monique and her family (they came to visit her for the Christmas). We felt like one big family. They even loved Nadia so much.

We know "thank you" is not sufficient to express our gratitude to her, her family and her small team. All we know is that sincere hearts still exist. Merci beaucoup, Madame Monique. You have inspired us with your simplicity and unconditional love.

Marrakech (Part 1)

***Dec 22-26, 2007... You can find some of our photos here***

Dusty and smelly. That's my first impression of Marrakech. But quickly, it was turned around by the lively Jemaa el-Fna Square and the mazes of local souks (markets).

Medina (old town) is the heart of Marrakech. Most of the tourist happenings take place there. Narrow alleys, mostly for pedestrians, horse and donkey carriages and, of course, flies... I mean, motorbikes! Oh yes, they are like flies roaring all over you. You feel like your life depends on them. Sometimes, I think they run too fast and at times you don't know where they are heading to. Amazingly, during our stay, we did not see a single accident! It must have taken quite a skill to ride a motobike there!

The dusty, muddy and stoned-path alleys reminded me of the old poor parts of Jakarta, like Karang Anyar or Pasar Minggu where I used to visit my Grandpa at Eid (when I was a little kid). Strolling through, I enjoyed watching local people. As dirty as you can imagine, but it is less disgusting than, say, India (sorry, no offense). At least, I did not see any human dirts or perhaps there was a few trashes. The pink houses are also trademarks of the old town.

Jemaa el-Fna Square was our first place to hang out. Always busy day and night, weekdays and weekends! Orange juice stalls and snake charms during the day (I don't enjoy watching snakes, though). Traditional musicians, food stalls, belly dancers... at night. I have never seen such a variety in a square before in my life. Very lively.

The mazes of souks... a place to practice your bargaining skills. Oh, I enjoyed it a lot. It feels great when you can get a stuff at the price you think is reasonable (although you never know whether it's a good value). In general, the merchants are more 'friendly' than those in Istanbul, for example. You can bargain hard without them getting upset (that's a good start). You can even come back after a while and continue your bargain... and they still welcome you in a friendly attitude. Talking to our fellow guests at Riad Zara, I think we bargained much better than them (of course the white people are not used to it). We take advantage of two things: being Indonesians and speaking French (oh, this is a good thing about Moroccons... they speak French as well as they speak Arabic.) The variety of the stuffs are also interesting. From conical spices, glass-stained laterns, leather, local cactus silk to colorful carpets. If you want to explore the whole souks, you need at least two days. You'll never get bored, unless you are not an art person.

Couscous and tagine are of course authentic. I had been skeptical with them, but the local tastes changed my perception. I just loved them! We tried different restaurants. They tasted somehow slightly different. Still, you loved them all. And don't forget the hot sweet mint tea. Though I found it a little too sweet.

Historical monuments... there are a few. We did not have much time to visit them all, but I think we visited the highlights, like the amazing Medersa Ben Youssef (Quran school) and Palais La Bahia. The landscape and decorations reminded me of Andalucia (Southern Spain), which is just their neighbor. Riding a horse-carriage is a good way to get introduced to the old and new towns. Only 10 euros for one hour. Not bad at all. Plus, Nadia liked it very much.

Indonesians... please note: you do not need a visa to enter Morocco! Isn't it amazing? Gee... for the first time in my life, I don't need a visa to travel outside South East Asia countries with my Indonesian passport. It was very unfortunate we did not have a chance to try one of the hammams nor did we visit the Atlas mountain area for a day-trip. I heard Fez is also nice. It is probably a good reason to come back.

The Masterplan

Polyclinique du Sud, Marrakech (Marroco)
Sunday, Dec 23, 2007

We came here for our Christmas break. We came here to enjoy the city, the food and the culture. Like any other vacationers, we came here with a PLAN... our vacation plan.

A plan is still a plan. But God holds every key to His masterplan. This is what I have believed since I was a kid. A man can always make a plan in his life, but it is up to God if He would give you the privilege to make it happen.

Today, in Marrakech, God once again showed us His power and His masterplan.
He had given us the joy of keeping the fetus for two months in Dita's store, but then He eventually decided to take it away from us. As painful as it could be, Dita and I could only pray, down on our knees. We were of course disappointed. We just lost our unborn baby. We lost our miracle. We cried. Yet, we were not mad at God. Who are we to be mad at Him? He has given us a lot in our lives. Now if He wants to take it back from us, He has the ultimate power to do so. We don't. It hurt (even until now...), but we both are believers. Everything we have on earth belongs to Him. We believe that.

Now we advance with our lives....

We also would like to thank our families and friends for their supports from a distance. Even though we are apart, their words are meant the world to us in that particularly hard time.

Rest in peace, our unborn baby
Merry Christmas, baby Jesus

Only for a time
I must not learn to call you mine
Familiarize that face, those eyes
Make future plan that cannot be confirmed
On borrowed time
On easy terms....

("Easy Terms", Blood Brothers)

December News

Hello all

It's been a while since our very last news (and I have not updated my blog since Oct 29!). Both, Dita and I have been extremely busy. Here are some updates from the gloomy Paris:

1. I started my Executive MBA mid Nov (in fact the pre-course had commenced a month before), as some of you may have known. It is a 13-month program. My new routines: work during the day and hit the books from 9pm (and all weekends) to as long as my eyes allow me. I think I'll be a coffee addict in a few weeks time! But of course, I always try hard to spare my time with Dita and Nadia, although it means we'll have less free time in the weekends. Details of the school and program will come soon in my blog.


2. Dita has started searching for maternelle school for Nadia (here it starts at the age of 3) for Sep 2008 (assuming we'll still be in Paris by then).
   If we don't start the enrollment now, chances are we'll end up with no place. We are eyeing a private Catholic school, St Joseph, 10-min walk from our place, having surveying some public and private ones. And... St Joseph is French-speaking.


3. Christmas is just around the corner. You can feel the ambience around Paris. Parties are lining up this month. We have booked ourselves for a short trip to Marrakech (Marroco) Dec 22-26 (trying to get out of the Parisien gloomy weather). No ski trip this year. No plan for New Year yet. Most likely, we'll be in Paris. What are your plans?


4. Nadia is as ever cheerful as you all know her. She is becoming more and more articulate now with a lot of Indonesian and French words, phrases and tunes. She's got teddy-bear theme on her Christmas tree at home. Little Einsteins (Petits Einsteins) are still her favorite tv program. Unfortunately, her hair has not yet grown as much as her eyelashes :-). Her swimming lesson continues, which she always look forward to.


5. Last but not least, we are expecting our second baby (Insya Allah, in July 2008). Dita is doing fine until now. No morning sickness whatsoever (as yet). Pls pray for us.

Once again, we apologize for not having been in contact with most of you for a while. We promise we'll do.Take a good care and talk to you soon.

PS. Karim - it was nice seeing you in Paris. Thanks for the visit. Wingky - what a shame! Next time you'll have to stay over.

Bisou

Nadia, Dita & Novel (Les Parisiens)

The Lone Violinist in Calendar 2008

So, one of my photos is finally published on the Schlumberger's official Calendar 2008, for the month of August to be exact. Of course I was surprised and excited, as this is the first time that my photo is being publicly recognized and published.

The photo itself was taken at the Place des Vosges, Paris, in the sunny afternoon of summer 2006. It is not uncommon to find street musicians in this lively square every weekend. Then again, I was there in the right place and at the right time. The violinist had just begun his 'gig' with his first tune when I was walking past him. Luckily, there were not many people yet around him, so I could take a shot of him with the columns without any other people behind. Seconds after, people started gathering around him. Had I been a few seconds late, this photo wouldn't have been here. Talking about photography of the right moments again....

Nadia and Her First Halloween Party

Click here for the photos.

A bit earlier than the tradition, but still everyone had a great time last Friday at the Halloween's Sweets Hunting. Strolling the streets of Neuilly-sur-Seine, Paris, kids were wearing different themes of customs. Mostly students of St Mary Mount school, where Lana (first daughter of Ronny and Hana Hendrawan) is enrolled.

Nadia and Naia (Lana's sister) were also enrolled, not to the school itself, but to the Halloween party. Along with the other kids and the parents, we all knocked on the doors of the 13 participating houses for a 'trick or treat' in a cool fall evening.

Nadia as a little orange pumpkin, Naia as a little red devil, Cici Lana as a little princess... they were all so cute in the customs. And of course, the parents participated too. Mama Dita as a 'spider' sorcerer, Mommy Hana as a Zorro Woman ("Rozzo"... called Lana) and Papa Novel as an old witch, equiped with long grey hair and a broom. Papi Ronny came late from Rotterdam. Tante Dewi, as one of the host, joined us for a dinner after with illuminating skulls on her head.

Everyone had a really good time!

The Strike... Second Day of Catastrophe

The strike really stroke me this morning. 2h15 to get to the office compared to the usual 30 mins! What a record!

Today, they prolonged the strike. Not quite as pervasive as yesterday, but since people were anticipating that things were to get back to normal, everyone went out in the morning rush hours. The result was a catastroph. I had never seen so many cars in the street in front of our place before. People went to different directions, left, right, straight.... Chaos. Some were anxiously waiting for the bus who never arrived because of the jam. I could see the tense on everyone's face.

Me, I was determined to go to the office by Velib' this morning. No bikes left at the station near my place. I ran to the next station nearby. Nothing. The third one, zero! No, not really zero. There were 3 or 5 bikes in each of those stations, but they were all out of services. Flat tyre, broken chains, etc. Hhmmm... even Velib' employees were at the strike too.

So, I kept on heading east hoping to get a bike in the next station. No result. Went down to metro. 8-minute waiting time. Then the next one would be in 31 minutes! Needless to say, the platform was packed, packed, packed! I decided to get out and wait for a bus. Ten minutes passed. I could see my bus in the distance, without any sign of moving closer. The traffic was really bad. So, I kept on walking until the next bus stop (still hoping for a bike). Finally, I got on the bus until I realized it was a bad idea, as the bus was moving too slowly. There was no way I would reach the office in time for my 10 o'clock meeting. I got off at the next stop and took another bus to the different direction, which is my home direction! "Yes, I am coming back. This is not worth all the effort. Better work from home again."

Reached home. Drank a glass a water. Dita mentioned tram might lightly interrupted. Well, that was the only transport means I had not tried. Walked 10 minutes to the tram station down south. Look what I saw on the way... rows of bikes at the Velib' station near the tram station! Anyway, I was too late for a bike now. Besides, my tram was approaching. I was relieved! Finally... I reached the office after 2h15!

Whilst walking from the tram station to my office, I saw someone put chain lock around a Velib' bike, so nobody but him would be able to use it! Nasty....

Nadia et Le Bebe Nageur

It has been a few weeks since Nadia restarted her swimming class. Restarted... because she had taken baby swimming lessons in Oz before when she was still 6-month-old.

Now, we have a new routine every Sunday morning. We intentionally chose Sunday class, so we can go to the pool together. Also, Dita and I can take turn swimming with Nadia. The pool is in Porte d'Orleans area, not very far from my office. It is a small pool, special for baby swimming classes and not open for public. There are about 10 toddlers in our class. Mostly French.

Taking Nadia for a swim is always a fun experience. She is always excited and not afraid of waters. She was so used to waters back when we were still in Oz. Then there was a period when we hardly took her to the swimming pool because of the move, etc. Before we began with this Sunday swimming class, we had taken her again to a public pool once in a while. It took her a little while before she got familiar again with the waters and the old Aussie techniques.

I am personally a little disappointed with this Sunday class. Perhaps I put my expectation a little too high. Dita and I had set our standards based on our experience in Oz. Over there, swimming lessons for babies were so much fun and well structured. Babies and parents (mostly mommies) were encouraged and praised a lot. Swimming always come along with popular kid tunes, like Humpty Dumpty, which Dita is still using it with Nadia until today. She is still using the techniques she learned from Oz.

After 4 classes, I have not yet seen any progress on the way the instructor teaches the class. All she and her assistant have done is just let the parents do whatever they want with their toddlers. The only good thing is that they provide some toys and floaters (at least they are quite well equipped). And I had asked the instructor in the beginning of her teaching plans. She said for the first few weeks she would let the kids get accustomed to the waters, before starting to teach them some techniques. Some of them kids are a little younger than Nadia and never took a lesson before. Makes sense.

But for how long? I don't have the answer yet. But last week, my doubt about their teaching ability was growing even more, after seeing her assistant teach the parents how to hold the toddlers in the waters. The technique was okay. It is just the method. This shy assistant was trying to lead the class, whilst the old teacher was trying to encourage people to sing a French song whilst swinging our babies gently! Yet, she could not pick a single song or perhaps she did not know much of the French kid songs. Until... suddenly Dita started with Fais Do-do.... and the other parents (and they are French!) follow!

Another funnny thing. Two weeks ago, the teacher asked the parents to encourage their toddlers to jump to the waters from a slider. She gathered everyone around and explained the tricks. Of course, she would start with an example. She picked a boy called Matthieu, about the same age as Nadia, who always comes only with his daddy. The teacher said, "Let's start with Matthieu. He will show you how to do it. If he can do it, there is no reason why your toddlers cannot do it." The teacher seemed to know Matthieu and his daddy pretty well. I was thinking,"Perhaps he has taken the lessons for a while." Voila, everyone was eagerly watching Matthieu in action. One second, two seconds, five seconds... he did not move from the slider despite of her daddy's encouraging words. Instead, he reached out to him, did not dare to jump off. It wasn't a proud moment for the teacher, let alone the daddy. Poor Matthieu. The role model failed. Then came Nadia. She crawled up the slider and... wooossshh!!! She jumped to the waters in no time! Everyone clapped. Ever since, the teacher has picked Nadia to lead the way and Dita and I are being the proud parents. Ahahaha....

Nadia and Potty Training

It's about time for a potty training. Dita had uncontinuously tried it on Nadia several time before, without any satisfying results. This time, she is more determined than ever to give Nadia a toilet training.

The result of the first day today was pretty good. Dita uses a very encouraging method by giving one sticker to Nadia for every successful pee or poop. Today's result: 3 stickers! Two for pees and one for kaka (poop). What an achievement to start with! More importantly, we feel Nadia is big enough to digest the process and to say it when she feels like doing it, of course, before it really comes out.

The only disappointment of the day was when she was peeing on the couch. Ahh! We think she was just being lazy to move, whilst her favorite Les Petits Einsteins was on the tv. Never mind. Slowly but sure, we are getting there! Bravo, ma petite! Bravo, ma femme!

La Greve, Rugby et Les Separations

La greve aujourd'hui. Une grande greve. Le plus grande depuis que je suis arrive a Paris.

It's a strike day today all across France for all types of public transportations, which include trains, metro, bus and tram. Not totally paralyzed, as those companies, under the French law, are still obliged to deliver minimum services to public during the strikes. The reality was the guaranteed services were way too minimum for people to do their normal business, i.e. below 20% of the regular service, which means people would have to wait more than half an hour for your transports. Yet, some transportation means, like tram, were completely dead! Bus services were not at all guaranteed (and I did not see a single bus crossing our street today).

This is the largest strike since I arrived in Paris. There had been some small strikes here and there with no significant impact on most people. But this time, I myself got affected too. Although I could have opted to use Velib' (bike) as an alternative solution to go to work, I decided to work from home, instead (fortunately I did not schedule any meeting today). Better stay away from the troubles. Lucky enough, I read from the news that the number of Velib users doubled to 27,000 this morning, which could mean tough competitions to get one bike, unless you started your day really early. My biggest worry was that unable to get a bike on the way home. That would have been a disastrous long journey home. This afternoon, I saw quite a long queue on the Velib' station near where I live.

The worst is yet to come. It seems the Labour Union may prolong the strikes until tomorrow. We'll see....

What triggered the strike? The new French government under Nicolas Sarkozy has recently announced the plan to change the retirement plans for a special regime (group) of public services employees who work in areas that are considered dangerous, e.g. train or bus drivers, gas or electricity workers. Under the current plan, that group of employees are eligible to opt for retirement as early as the age of 5o. Now, Mr. Sarkozy would like to erase this privilege for the sake of egalite for everyone, which means they would not have any choice but to retire at 65, like everyone else in France. In addition, they will change the way they calculate the pension plan for those people.

In 1995, the Prime Minister back then, Alan Juppe, touched the same issue which resulted in a huge strike and demonstations on the street. People managed to make him step down. Will it be the same this time? I personnally doubt it for several reasons (I am not trying to be political here). Firstly, Sarkozy has a good reason by arguing that he was eligibly elected to lead this country for a change that was eagerly wished for by his voters, which means most people had approved this plan during his presidential campaign. Secondly, according to the survey, 65% of the French say that the strike this time was not well justified, which means that privileged group of employees receive less supports from their fellow countrymen than they did 12 years back.

Enough for the strike. Back to rugby. Tomorrow, France will play Argentine again to aim for the 3rd place. Last week, the England made Les Bleus look like a team of kindergarden kids (perhaps it's too much of an exaggeration). A huge disappointment, to be exact. They did not play as well as they had when they beat All Blacks. Far below par! Anyway, England also had to thank the incredible Wilkinson for the win.

Back to Sarkozy. While he was faced with a big strike today, the rumor of his separation from his wife, Cecilia, had been the headlines of the week. Historically, they had been separated before for a little while. The media speculates this time may be the end of it. It started with the facts that Cecilia has disappeared from all official protocols for the last few weeks. Anyway, who cares? I put it here because I noticed an interesting phenomena. Madame Segolene Royal (the female president candidate from the Socialist Party) also parted her way from her husband, not long after her loss to Sarkozy. What the hell is wrong with those politicians? If they cannot even keep their families together, how could they boast about family values at their campaigns? Better yet, why should they even be allowed to lead a country?

Les Bleus... Incroyables!

If there is a saying "Nothing is Impossible", last Saturday Les Bleus proved it right. Alright, I underestimated them, so did everyone else. The previous seven consecutive defeats from All Blacks did not seem to bother them. Trailing 3-13 in the first half only stimulated their fighting back spirit. I have to admit it was the best rugby match I have ever seen so far... And the best game ever played by Les Bleus. They were discipline. Their defense was like a wall which made All Blacks frustrated. Their sudden attack strategy proved to be extremely effective this time. In addition, the player selections in the first and second half were brilliant, thanks to their coach. 20-18. Chapeau pour Les Bleus!

Next... England in the semifinal. England also made a miracle last week after beating Australia who was another big favorite, 12-10, without any try. Jonny Wilkinson, once again, was the hero of the match. Now, both underdogs were on the cloud nine. England, as the defending champion, will not give it up so easily. France, on the other hands, has learnt their lesson from the beginning of this world cup. Besides, they will take advantage playing in their own home.

Regardless, I think we will witness another world-class game again tonight. Allez, Les Bleus!

Rugby WC 2007: Did Les Bleus Blow It?

The Rugby World Cup 2007 is half way through, but it seems that everyone has already agreed that All Blacks (the nickname of the New Zealand team) is the strongest contender to lift the trophy from the defending champion, England. No doubt, they are now rank #1 in the world. From the four group matches completed in the last three weeks, All Blacks has demonstrated their true class. They prove to be too solid for the other four teams in the group, technically and physically. Their intimidating Haka proves to be effectively too 'frightening' this time.

What about Les Bleus (The French team)? As a host, I have to say the French did not do a good job. Why on earth did they arrange France vs Argentina as the opening match? Didn't they learn that Argentina is one rank above France? Didn't they study the statistics from their previous six matches whereas Argentina won five of them? Or perhaps they were so blindly over confident that their team could overcome the Tango at home.

As everyone has already known, the result was a disaster. The nervous France was humiliated in front of their own public and President! 17-12 for the Puma Argentina! So disastrous that now France has no option but playing NZ in the QF next week.

I say the French blew their best opportunity to advance to the final. It is still not understood why the two best teams in their group would have to meet in the opening match? Learning from FIFA World Cup, usually the two strongest teams in each group face each other in the very last qualification match, hoping to be a decisive one, in order to determine who will finish as the topper of the group. If the French organizers did it just to serve a good level of match in front of the French public and Nicolas Sharkozy, they could have chosen Ireland whose ranking is notably below France. And Les Bleus would have had a better chance of saving their face! Besides, Les Bleus would have had several easier matches in store to play around with their team formation and strategy, cast away their nervious start, before eventually playing their best game against the Argentine. Chances are they might not have been humiliated and they would have topped their group... and they would not have had to play NZ that early.

Anyway, it is now too late for Les Bleus. They will now just need to weather the storm and expect for the worst, because on their last two friendly matches in Paris and Marseille this year, All Blacks mercilessly did not give any chance to Les Bleus. Not to mention, next week they will play in Cardiff (Wales), whilst Argentina will play their QF match in St Denis, Paris. So much for the screw-ups! Say goodbye to their dream best scenario. Bon courage, Les Petits!