Can We Stop Talking About Alfie Already?

Years ago in tropical, smoggy Malaysia, as soon as I mentioned that I intended to further my studies in Dublin, the general response would have been between:

1. Isn't that place that's in the middle of a civil war and bombs go off every now and again? Isn't it? Why the hell are you going there then?
2. Where? Wha?

As news about the island of Ireland would only filter to Malaysia rather slowly (remember, this was a time before Facebook, Tweeter, YouTube and the like), the first reaction would be relatively understandable. Plus, most of them were actually genuinely concerned about my safety and wellbeing so, I'd take some effort to give them an update on the situation in Ireland and assure them that I'd be safe for the duration of my stay.

As for the second response, I might as well have named a small village east of Timbuktu. So, to help resolve matters, I'd normally just say near London to which I'd get a long Oooooh reply in the affimative. Sorted.

More recently though, the two classic responses would normally be replaced with the fiscally-related:

Have you still go a a job there, ah? Wah...that place is in some real deep shit lah. You OK ka?

Or...with relatives and friends more used to reading Harian Metro and Utusan Malaysia rather than errr...any other proper news source, there can be only ONE response:

Wah...that's the place where that gay Malay dude got married his to his Mat Salleh husband kan? Eh, you must know him lah?

No, I don't know the now infamous/famous (whichever way you like to look at it) Ariff Alfian Rosli who armed with a tanjak has single-handedly changed Malaysia's view of Ireland. Congratulations for putting Ireland on the map Alfie! Tourism Malaysia and Tourism Ireland should give this man a medal for all the publicity work he's done for both countries.


There were mixed reactions to Alfie's treatment in the
Malaysian press.
Liverpool's defeat against City could have been a contributing factor


Now, I'll stop writing about Alfie and let you enjoy the totally not gay pics of a couple (did I say couple?) of Dublin-based guys just out having fun...


Apparently, some feel that Alfie looks quite macho



Another random couple on their travels

I Remember Why I Do Not Go to Xmas Parties

December. As well as being the (politically correct) Holiday Season, it's also the season of endless partying.

I've got nothing against partying. In fact, I do enjoy the odd party now and again but when it comes to partying around this time of the year, I'd rather stay at home and keep as warm as I can.

Why?

Here's a couple of reasons:

1. The weather
Cold, icy, frosty and snowy weather isn't actually party-friendly weather. Whatever destination you're headed to, it's normally not worth risking life and limb to get to. The summer was made for partying, not late December.

2. The people
Nothing wrong with people in general. It's just the ones you do your utmost to avoid at work seem to be the ones that you end up being stuck with whenever the party/dinner/drinks come along.

3. The food
Being Malaysian, this particular item would naturally come way at the top of any party. Unfortunately, around these parts, it's more of an afterthought. And, if you're like me and more often than not would have to opt for the vegetarian option then, things get even worse on the food front. The vegetarian fare at Xmas parties normally consist of some spare roasted spuds, mashed carrots, boiled garlic cloves or some sloppy pasta, straight out of the can.

4. The tux
Now this might not apply to everyone particularly the girls but year on year, I cringe at reading 'Black Tie' written on the Xmas party invite. OK, I completely understand when the ladies go through all the effort of getting their hair done, their tan on and their bodily hair waxed off. In the end, they actually look better. Well, most of them. For the dudes though, the same doesn't apply. Yes, we don't fork out as much but the fact remains that guys spend a load of money just to look like they belong on the set of Happy Feet (or even worse, a horrible parody of 007 himself - yes, I'm talking to you dude in the white velvet tux).

I hope I'll remember this lengthy note-to-self to remind me whenever I feel the need to blend-in and sign-up for next year's round of parties.

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The Pedestrian Strikes Back

Finally, some common sense from those in authority on all things road and traffic related.

Road safety campaigns have always focused on car drivers and motorcyclists but seldom (or is that never?) on cyclists. So, it was about time something like this popped up. If anything else, it in a way justifies all my rants towards the growing number of annoying and increasingly dangerous cyclists. Better late than never.


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If There Was Ever Any Doubt

How bold of me to ever question Ireland's finest weather forecasters? They said we should expect freezing temperatures at the end of October/early November but all that ever appeared was torrential rain followed by flash floods and then some unusually mild weather (for November that is). No frost and snow was a no show.

Until last weekend that is. I woke up to a bright and sunny morning ready to head into town to join in the Eid celebrations at Malaysia Hall. As usual, it was a mad rush to get everything ready but when we eventually got out of the house, we were greeted by a frozen car. The frost that clung to the car wasn't actually the type you could easily melt away as soon as the car's blow heater was switched on. No, this was a more hardcore variant of frost that required a good bit of scraping and a decent amount of elbow grease to get rid of.

Thankfully, things have gotten a bit milder since then but still, it was a good reminder for what was to come. There was no doubt about that now.

Admiral Ackbar Says...

It's a trap!

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Analogue Time Travel Makes Bold Bloggers

This happens to me all the time and by that I don't mean that I'm some sort of Marty McFly driving around in a souped-up DeLorean nor am I genetically prepositioned to randomly jump butt-naked in time.

That's all too complicated for me. No, for me, all that's needed is my dear old watch and a month that doesn't have a 31st day that ideally, comes around a weekend when I'm away from the laptop and calendars becoming somewhat detached from time and dates.

Put simply, I don't notice that the second day of the month stays as the first day and the third day of the month is frozen in second and so forth. And so today, on the fourth day of the month (the watch still says that it's the 3rd of October), I start writing my first entry of the month...

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The Best Day of the Year

...and I'm stuck at work followed by a PTA meeting that most probably won't finish until very late in the evening. Yes, after a non-existent summer, this day, the 28th of September is the first proper summer day of the year. And, I can't get out and enjoy it.

Why?

But Ireland is a weird old place. Earlier this month, there were reports that it would actually snow in October. October!

Hard to believe when I look out the window and feel the warm(?) autumn breeze in my face while just above all the city centre office blocks, a cloudless blue sky.

Twenty Years Ago

Twenty years? I can't believe twenty years have gone by since the height of grunge, teen angst and all.

I still can't play the drums like Dave Grohl, never actually grew my hair long like Kurt Cobain but hell, I still remember the lyrics to Smells Like Teen Spirit.

More on this soon...

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Eid Bloatedness and The Way of The Tiger

The one thing I've begun to dislike about Eid (or Hari Raya as it's known in Malaysia) is the one thing that was missing during daylight for the preceeding 29 days - food. Yes, all the feasting has left me feeling extremely bloated lately. It's not that I hadn't expected it or indeed feel ungrateful for the food. Far from it. I've actually just made a conscious effort to eat as little as possible when visiting friends and relatives to avoid any complications.

Unfortunately, as much as I try, the plan never works when I'm being eyed by my hosts who insist that I stuff myself with the maximum amount of beef rendang, pulut and other Raya delicacies. The result of all this is a grotesquely bloated round belly.

I was going to give up on finding a solution to this Eid "suffering" when as luck would have it, I paid a visit to
 Dublin Zoo earlier today. At the zoo, I had the pleasure of seeing the tigers being fed. Now, before you start imagining the zoo staff throwing in large chunks of meat into the enclosure to the lazily waiting tigers, stop. The folks at Dublin Zoo have come up with an amazing feeding arrangement that gets the big cat fed but also gets the animal some exercise at the same time.

The idea is quite simple really. Get a big chunck of meat and dangle it high up a pole. Unleash tiger and let it work to get the meat up the pole. Yes, like their smalller, more domestic cousins, tigers are also equally adept and climbing up things like poles...and trees. Yes, I've always thought that if I was stuck in a Malaysian rainforest and just happened to come across a hungry tiger, I'd climb up a tree to safety. Well, today's tiger demonstration certainly throws that plan out the window.

Anyway, the tiger eating plan seems like a good one i.e. combining eating with exercising. So now, it's up to my eager hosts to have poles to hang their lemang and rendang for next Raya!

Not going to happen, is it? Dammit...

Money Doesn't Grow On Trees, You Know

Growing up, I clearly remember constantly getting the above reply from my Mom every time I got creative with my requests. This would normally involve asking for the biggest and greatest pirate ship in the Lego catalogue or a battery-powered Lego city train, complete with the Lego city!

Rejection in the above-mentioned manner would follow all too swiftly and until this day, I still am not an owner of a pirate ship or train set.

Ironically, what I am an owner of is exactly what my Mom said didn't exist - a money tree.





No, it doesn't actually spit out Euro notes like a malfunctioning Bank of Ireland ATM but it does look like the common currency of trade used in China quite some time ago. Jade is still very much highly valued to this day and the plant's likeness to jade is probably where it got its name back in the day.

Still doesn't help me with getting my Lego though.

Bicycles?

I've never been a fan of cyclists. Not all cyclists though. Just the annoying ones who think they own the road and cycle around town as if it's some sort of God-given right that they need not obey the Rules of the Road. OK, maybe even not those ones. Hell, if they suddenly get the urge to be flattened by a Ford Transit on a rainy Monday morning then fine. It's their choice. Don't blame me if your preference is to be friendly with the latest roadkill.

Unfortunately, over the years, there's been a growing trend of cyclists who fall into the above category. Hence, my growing dislike for these cyclists and sometimes that even includes the innocent ones.

Ironically for me, I've taken a liking to bicycles of late. It's probably because my kids are at a bicycle-riding age which in turn, gets my inner child all excited driving me to leap out and grab my old Raleigh BMX and cycle hands-free downhill in front of my parents' house.

Reality normally kicks in at this stage and I'm reminded that I would probably bend the frame of my old BMX beyond repair. If I could still find it, that is. So, I came to the conclusion that I needed to get myself a bike. A brand new one would be quite affordable (especially with the Bike to Work Scheme) but as flashy new bikes tend to disappear into thin air in Dublin, I thought that a good second-hand bike would be best.

And so, the search begins.

That's Limerick City

 I've never been to Limerick city before but fortunately, my job required that I visit this city of Munster for a couple of days.

The pic above is of one of the entrances to King John's Castle. The first thing that came to mind when I heard the name of the castle was the medieval baddie made famous by tales of Robin Hood and his mates lurking in tight tights hiding behind trees in Nottingham. With a little bit of research, it turns out that the King John in question is the same as the infamous King John.

Unfortunately, other than that a quick walkabout after work that led me to the castle (and a short walk along the River Shannon) most of my time in Limerick was spent in here...

Not that I'm complaining, it's just that it's a shame I didn't get to see more of the city. Thankfully, if you're looking for a guide to the city the internet is filled with resources. Here's one great example.

What better way of getting to know a place than through the local Horse's mouth (pun intended)?

The Day I Caught The Train

Trains. I've always liked them ever since I was a little boy. It's probably because it reminds me of how a long, uncomfortable journey by car to my grandparents' homes in rural Malaysia could appear to be cut short and made bearable.

In recent years, trains have also reminded me of one of Ocean Colour Scene's more popular songs...

Should make a good song to start off my journey by rail next week.

Ramadhan...

Will be physically and mentally preparing for this over the next few days so, things might be getting slow around here as I re- prioritise.






In the meantime, here's a bit of good news for Halal food hunters around Dublin - a Halal Subway! You never know, it could just come in handy on a late Ramadhan evening.


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Slim Style

I don't buy clothes too often. My wardrobe is filled with the odd freebie company t-shirt and a sizeable enough collection of souvenir-type shirts from places I've never been to like Harvard University, New York, Monte Carlo and errr...Birmingham. All courtesy of visiting relatives.

Every once in a while though, I do come across pieces of clothing that's just too irresistible to ignore.

Most of the time because it's dirt cheap but mostly because it fits me like a glove.





Oh, and the fact that it's a Slim Fit polo is a bit of a confidence booster (just ignore the XL part of the label). Added to that, the black helps cover up unwanted "curves" too!


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Up In Flames

That night over a decade ago now, was like most back then. Four of my housemates and I were lazily hanging around our inner city flat doing what students do best after a "hectic" day in college.

One was in the living room flicking through all sixteen(!) cable channels that we had just signed-up to. Another was whispering God only knows what over the phone to his girlfriend. The same girlfriend who he'd just waved goodbye to less than half an hour earlier. Two (counting myself) were taking turns having a go at an intense game of Championship Manager (when CM was still good and before the game morphed into Football Manager). CM-fueled Peter Stuyvesant and Dunhil smoke filled the air of the larger of the two bedrooms in the apartment as the remaining flatmate was fast asleep.

It was the middle of winter but the weather was still quite mild by Dublin standards and all five of us were disappointed that we hadn't seen snow. It was such a Malaysian thing. It's as if our Hari Raya photos won't count as pics from overseas if there weren't any snow in the background. We'd be condemned as fraudsters who only popped over to Bandung instead and not Mat Salleh-overseas proper.

All of a sudden, the dude in the living room shouted - snow! He was taking a break from channel-surfing and noticed specks of white falling from the sky through the flat's balcony windows. Three of us dropped what we were doing and rushed to the living room. One was so eager and went straight for the balcony window, opened it and peered out of it. He popped his head back in but instead of child-like smile, we were met with a face of young man who was turning a bluish-green and was half-choking to death.

Errr...that can't be good. That can't be snow, we thought collectively while waiting for our flatmate to catch his breath. But before our flatmate could provide us with an explanation, there came a voice that seemed to come from the heavens at the time...

It's NOT snow you feckin' eejits! It's a car up in flames.

The "heavenly" voice was actually an occupant who was a couple of floors above us and could clearly see through the smoke and falling ash (formerly known to us as snow). And, I didn't think the Almighty would have a thick north Dublin city accent.

You lads have a phone? Well, call the fire brigade will ya...

I picked up the phone and dialled the emergency line. There was no answer and only a strange ringing tone instead.

I can't get through...

What do you mean you can't get through? What number did you ring?

911.

This isn't America! This is Ireland. It's 999.

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Cause They Were All Yellow

I got back from work earlier today and for some reason, couldn't get Coldplay's songs out of my head. Maybe it's the subliminal promotion of Oxegen that's finally hitting home with my subconscious. It could be worse - I could have Jedward's Lipstick stuck in my head for the rest of the weekend.

Anyway, when I got home I pulled out my vinyl copy of Parachutes with the intention of playing the whole album on my trusty Rega P3. But, before I could even pull out the record from its sleeve, I noticed one particular song on the track listing: Yellow.

It made me wonder. Would I have been arrested by the authorities back home in Malaysia for playing Yellow? Sounds like a ridiculous question but be warned - the colour yellow (which includes anything derived or remotely related to the colour) isn't actually the most popular among the powers-that-be in Malaysia these days.

I left the vinyl record in its sleeve when I remembered that I had other more important things to do rather than lounge around and listen to my favourite, politically-charged tunes. I'll wait until tomorrow when I suppose, it would be more apt.

Kids Can Be So Honest

So, so brutally honest. Here's one of the things that my kids got for me for Father's Day (with the help of their mother as their accomplice, no doubt):

Admittedly, a little message on a bottle that hit too close to home. It's a good thing the bottle's contents were quite good. While on the topic of contents, the kids will soon learn that they'll need to be a bit more diplomatic when it comes to selecting their Daddy's gifts next time around. Either they learn quickly or they won't stand a chance of getting anything that comes out of these bad boys...

Well, I can dream, can't I?

Saturday Summer Time Serenade

I was in the middle of looking for some videos for the kids on YouTube (the two Trains-formers clips by James Farr being the current favourites) when I came across some videos by a band that bears more than a passing resemblance to a Hare Krishna troupe called Young the Giant. This tune in particular stood out as it would be great for those bright and warm barbecue weather days.

Now all I need are a couple of Mojito mocktails and for a few days like in the video to come along...

The Green Vespa, Now in White

Some of you (who arent't totally colour blind) might have noticed a slight change with the Green Vespa lately - well, since last night to be exact. Tired of the dark, old and seemingly oh-so-2009 colour scheme, I opted for something bright and white for a change while attempting to maintain the simple and clean look. And also because, I've been reliably informed that viewing a brown and green site on your computer isn't that great because colleagues at work can spot from a mile away that you're obviously not doing any work.

White in theory, is great because it looks more business-ey so, you stand a chance of getting away with taking a sneaky peek at this blog. It's either that or someone might think that you're glued to the Harakah Daily or the like...

Not the Green Vespa. Obviously, because it's not green

So no, the Green Vespa i.e. the scooter itself hasn't been resprayed white and is still in its two-tone green form. Actually, I wouldn't mind getting the old Vespa a respray but current priorities lie elsewhere. If only switching a Vespa's colour is as easy as switching a blog's colour scheme. The picture above is of another scooter (a rebadged LML by the look of it) by the way. Just thought I put it in to confuse the weak-minded beings out there.

Now that all this messing with Blogger templates is out of the way, I can finally focus on Liverpool's surprisingly early exploits with transfers this summer. I definitely won't be hearing any of those whiny complaints about the lack of transfer market activity this summer. And, just for that Monsieur Comolli and his team deserve a light pat on the back, Jordan Henderson or no Jordan Henderson.

Speaking of Liverpool's latest acquisition, I (along with thousands of Liverpool fans around the globe) were curious to see what more the man could actually offer to an already decent Liverpool midfield. So, off I went on one of my statistical player analysis. Will report back on the results as soon as they're ready. Until then, enjoy the site's new look and hopefully, it won't get you into trouble at work...