Thebarefootfoodie

In the Beginning Love The Children Foundation ( LTCF ) had its humble roots in 1999 as a home for abused and abandoned children in the streets of Davao. It started with a dream of Charito Chua ( Cindy ) who gave up her business, savings and, one wonders, sanity, to provide a place of refuge for such as these, educating, training, loving them. As LTCF grew over the years, it also expanded to be a community outreach centre through the giving of food, educational supplies and medical services offered by volunteers partnering with LTCF. Feb 2011 I could never have imagined when I first visited LTCF in Feb 2011 that  it would be the beginning of a beautiful friendship with Cindy and her husband, Tony, and that LTCF would adopt me into their family. At that time, LTCF had launched its fledgling livelihood projects, with the older children embarking on peanut brittle ( our local equivalent of "kong tng", only much nicer and doesn't stick to your teeth ) and...

What's In a Name? The only thing remotely " Peranakan " about me is my Chinese name, Soon Neo.   What's in a name? Plenty. I had the dubious honour of being the elder child of the elder son in a traditional Baba family. All my cousins from my Dad's side had a " Soon" in their Chinese names. My brother had it worse - he was named as a fish - Soon Hock . Ironically, the name is a sure giveaway for my heritage ( or lack of it ). It means "lady". Being anything but ... it seemed like someone is having a private joke at my expense. I've been sorely tempted to deed poll it permanently away, but sentimentality prevailed and I'm glad I retained it, although I substituted the Chinese characters for a less cringe-worthy meaning. One day I asked my mom " How did we get our names?" She said that Grandpa ( Kong Kong ) gave us our Christian names and Grandma ( Mak ) gave the Chinese names. " Don't you have a say in our n...

A Lost Cause Or Is It? When it comes to shedding a few or more kilos , it is a losing battle, thanks to technology and social media. Before the advent of the internet and Facebook, where and what to eat is a matter of hit and miss. In the good old ( skinny ) days, we were dependent on word of mouth recommendations by foodie friends and the occasional review in print or seen in Makansutra publications ( Seetoh - are you still in business? Just asking... ) Nowadays, every time FB is opened, we are inevitably greeted with who went where and ate what, complete with delectable photos of food, glorious food. And it is not limited to Singapore, but pretty much all over the world. There is no escape from the onslaught. Several kilos and some years on, the perennial food critic in the Sunday Times has earned herself a loyal following, a double chin and too many calories to count on her marathon food ventures.  Age has its upsides and downs. You become more affluent,  travel ...

Berlin Marathon I like Marathons. There is something almost superhuman in completing 42 km in anything between two to four hours plus, for the serious runner. This will be my second International Marathon - as a clapper and supporter - for the record. Marathons are getting to be a great excuse for me to visit selected cities with a buddy whose husband is one such serious runner.  Berlin is on the international circuit as one of the "Big Five" . You not only have to qualify with  timing, but also balloted to have your name on the participants' list - so overwhelming is the demand. And so it goes, that KH is one of the 40,000 or so selected, and I bought myself a ticket to Berlin. Catching a connecting flight anywhere in Europe is a trial in fitness and endurance itself. Flights are usually late by a couple of minutes, and by the time one touches down in the international arrival hall and clears security, only to find that the domestic connection is several kilom...

In Defence of the Egoistical Architect I have always been a huge fan of Ayn Rand ( recently made hip by Paul Ryan's declaration of his fan-ship in his wanna-be VP pitch . Who can forget Howard Roark - strong, silent, master at his craft, Father of all Egoists!  A  truly fascinating character. It is not so amusing when your Architect is a type of Howard Roark, as the scenes unfold. For starters, I've been reduced to monologues. My wish-list trail has turned cold - cold silence at the other end. Ok, I take a few deep breaths and I start writing. " Revenge is a dish best served cold." I did tell Mr Y earlier that ours is an equal partnership - he has the craft, I have the pen. Here's the sub-heading " Architects are egoists by their own design." I have one very close architect girl-friend who's a super-charged ADHD turbo machine. She is  presently doing time as a foreign talent in a country not too far away, designing their public t...

Fit Vs Flab I t's a no-win situation when you hit a certain phase in your no-longer-so- young life. Metabolic rate slows down, a meal seems incomplete without the de riguer dessert to wrap it up; wining and dining is not an "if" but a "when". Exercise is not part of the everyday vocabulary. It seems more gratifying to watch mindless reality productions and commiserate with the ups and downs of "The Biggest Loser". One day it struck home. The weighing scales do not lie. It registered a whopping 5 kg increase over an ideal weight I had carefully nursed over the years. My teenage daughter had to talk me out of certain outfits - "Mum, that is so not flattering - your tummy is showing..." As if I don't know it - can't even squeeze into some favourite used-to- fit- so- well clothes anymore, and we can forget about jeans altogether - they are most unforgiving. Ouch, truth hurts. Time to do something drastic. I confided in the SS (...

It's a jungle out there If architects build houses for others for a fee, what do they build for themselves?  I found the answer when Mr Y kindly invited us over to his house one evening to discuss the plans, making the rare exception that he only sees clients on Mon to Sat, 10 am to 4 pm.  It was innocuously tucked next to a well-patronised coffee-shop selling roti prata and teh tarik, giving no hint of its identity as a dwelling place. The neighbourhood itself, is colourful, bustling with street life, with karaoke joints and hotels operating at 300% occupancy just down the road for the perky. Entering the doorway, we were gently led by the host into a labyrinthian maze of winding stairways, split levels of living space, opening up into an urban oasis of a roof terrace, resplendent with lush foliage of tropical plants that seem to claim their right of residency with their imposing presence. Cocooned high up there, looking over the stark contrast of bare roof-top...

A Plot, A Plan, A team of Players, A Plethora of Possibilities This little house sits on a plot of land in a neighbourhood I want to come home to - it is my kampung, the place where D and A grew up in, where I can satisfy instant cravings for local "chomps" and the familiarity of everyday sights descends like a breath of fresh air. Creature comforts, simple pleasures. A Plan has been drawn up for this little house to emerge as more than a shelter,  as a reflection of its owners' personalities and way of life. Nothing makes a better story than when an architect, after hearing what the homeowner desires, goes on to visualize and produces a design that not only captures the very essence and spirit of that dream; but takes it further than what she had imagined it could go... I have visited and baulked at the opulence of mansions,  waxed incredulous in shoe-box apartments, admired stylish houses, fantasized about capital gains from real estate,  remained unmov...

Rethinking the Basics The figures are already beginning to look threatening. It is now about 25% above our initial budget and we have not even factored in the Architect's professional fees, soft furnishings and my dream kitchen... Time to ditch my initial wish list and start all over again.  Part of the joy of being involved in yet another project is that it gives me a whole new purpose and focus, lifting me out of the predictability of everyday mundaneness. Books have begun flying off the shelves from the libraries - I can borrow up to 20 books at one go  ( for those who are interested in the math - it's 4 x 2 for me, as a Passion Card member, plus 4 x every other member of the Sim household ) One of the gems I happened to stumble upon is this book - compulsory reading for every potential home rebuilder, also known as " What Architects do not normally tell you." Here are some excerpts which should translate into dollars saved. Hallmarks of th...

The Man For the Job Mr Y is a story-teller. He punctuates almost every point he makes about design with an anecdote related to his projects. As he speaks, his bright eyes twinkle and his hand works furiously across sheets of paper making sketches appear on the white canvas. A meeting with Mr Y is akin to a private tutorial session on architecture and design 101. At this stage, he is only interested in our budget, based on $x per square foot of additional gross floor area up to the maximum allowed by the authorities; and the number of bedrooms and bathrooms on each floor. In our neighbourhood, we are allowed to build up to 2 storeys high. We learn that an attic and basement does not count as contributing to a "storey". On the downside, we will be affected by the compulsory erection of a bomb shelter, which, true to its name, will cost quite a bomb! We also learn the literal meaning of "setbacks" - building restrictions imposed on property owners. These a...

In the Beginning In 1997, G and I went house-hunting. We decided on a not-so-big single-storey house in Serangoon Gardens and made it our home, together with D, aged one. So the small family of then three moved in, together with our domestic helper, an absolutely indispensable part of the life and times of the Sims. In 2000, A joined the brood and we became a household of five. As the years rolled on, this little house stood the test of time, armed with a resolve to remain true to itself while all around, the neighbours were mutating into towering structures, forever altering the once charming landscape of this cosy precinct. But as D and A morphed from age to age, they made encroaching demands on sanity and space. Chaos aside, the study was first to go, for each one to have their own private den and mess containment. Soon the deluge of homework and assessment sheets spilled into the living room and there was no more division of boundaries. The living room became the ...

Of Ties that Bind. Posted on 14 May 2012 Over the last five days and nights, family, relatives near and far, friends and colleagues of the family, old neighbours, and many others from times past, gathered together to bid a sad farewell to a man who has left a rich legacy behind. There is the only son, stoic and composed, a pillar of strength and support. The daughter-in-law, gentle, gracious, like a flowing stream, unassuming, but impactful. The three daughters, each so different in personality and type, but beautiful in their own way. The sons-in-laws stayed in the background,and with invisible hands, provided the necessary emotional and administrative assistance The five grandchildren, ranging from youths to young adult, stood out with their maturity and devotion. C, with his band of brothers, did the watch for two nights, offering much needed rest and sleep for the more senior members of the family. It was a sweet gesture, full of heart, a tribute to his beloved "Ku...

In Memoriam - Yee Cheong, the best uncle I ever had. Posted on 10 May 2012 When the night is at its darkest, and the music fades, All that remains when you have to say that final goodbye on earth To someone who is loved, treasured and was a significant adult in your childhood and teenage years... Thank you for your legacy of wisdom, grace and blessings which you have imparted to me. As a little girl, growing up in Balam Road, I looked upon you with awe; But would take little liberties to be cheeky, knowing with full confidence you are firm, but always fair. After a day's worth of playing with Mei, I would sneak over next door to linger around some more, Watching you read the Chinese newspapers, occasionally humming a Chinese melody, Or breaking out in the loudest yawn I've ever heard, which never failed to send me back in stitches. You were ever the father figure, true to your four children, a vicarious one to me. Sure, you had your share of quirkine...