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...