Within 24 hours of landing in the country that gave birth to me, this conversation took place:
Daughter: What is the name of the language here? Me : Bahasa Melayu Daugther: I know the Bahasa Melayu word for “What” Me : And what do you think that is? Daugher : Apa! Me : (jaw dropped coz my daughter got it right)…Wow! How do you know? Daughter: I was listening and I figured it out (du-uh…with her most polite look)
Those who know me well, will know that I am a proponent for multi language acquisition. Having grown up in a multilingual society, I have not much appreciation for those who insist on staying within the boundaries of their own language. I mean, if you could, why wouldn’t you wish to understand more?
I mean, take a classic Hollywood movie, bad guys and not so bad guys. So there’s the Russian president and his translator, “talking” to the American president and HIS translator in a scene. How much do you wanna bet that in real life….all these foreign heads of states communicate well in English and simply use translators as protocol while not very many of the heads of states of English speaking nations understand more than their own language? I bet you a chocolate chip cookie, the former is true. PS - don't get offended if you are Russian or American... I'm just using a "classic" example..."classic", I tell you.... :-)
2 decades after moving to arguably, the most European city in North America, I still don’t get the hang-up many French Quebeckers have about “protecting” their language by insisting on French only signs and "encouraging" new immigrants to learn French as a way of assimilating to life there. While I say one language on your sign of commerce simply restricts how much business you get, I also say, more power to the immigrants. By the way, French is a bee-you-ti-ful language.
Maybe the French don’t notice it but I certainly do. The face of Canada is changing, it is becoming more “beige” as the years go by and these new “beige” faces speak a minimum of 3 languages well, the 2 official languages of Canada plus their mother tongue. Hmmm… I wonder who has the advantage in the long run, the unilingual French Quebecker or the multi-lingual new Quebecker? Sometimes the boundaries we set to keep others out, also serve to keep ourselves in and that is not always a good thing, n’est-ce pas?
I wonder the same for Malaysia...who has the advantage, the unilingual Malaysian or the multilingual one....hmmm.....
Back to my kids learning a 4th language while on vacation in the tropics. KiKi and King T – more power to you! Mommy’s proud of you!
At the end of last year, I received a call from a dear friend, a CFO in a company with interests across our borders. It seems there was one ticket left to a very fancy fundraiser in Montreal –the Cedars Cancer Institute Annual Raffle & Auction. “Would you like to join me?” my friend asked.
Honestly, I did not know whether to whoop and holler in an I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening-to-me manner or collapsed in a chair dumbfounded with the realization that I actually know somebody who “frequents” fancy shindigs like the one I had just been invited to. You gotta remember that I am a simple elementary school teacher with young kids of my own (and no live-in maid!). Going out on the town to a fancy schmancy party is somewhat remotely far down my list of frequently used phrases.
Back to the phone call, my dear friend had recently read my blog and thought she would love to read my impressions of my night out. Plus, she knew I was a foodie and the “refreshments” served at the event were supposedly out of this world. “The lamb chops are the best in the world”. What can I say, gourmet food + night out with a girlfriend = heck yeah!
So, like a typical girl, I fret about what to wear. Thankfully, the dress code is business chic. I think I can muster up some business chicness, somehow. A dear fashionista friend who lived 14,000km away said to bring out the “bling” and I did my best to come out of my shell with some semblance of “bling”… LOL!
On a crisp December evening, we arrive at Le Windsor, one of “Montreal’s most prestigious and historic landmarks”. Throughout its history, Le Windsor has hosted the likes of Sir Winston Churchill, John F. Kennedy and other dignitaries and celebrities…and lil’ ol’ me is about to walk through its hallowed halls.
There were no less than half a dozen crystal chandeliers to fill my sight as I came through the classic French doors. Peacock Alley had marble floors and 20-foot ceilings and sat in between two ballrooms. It was awashed in winter-themed decorations, all shades of white and frosty blue and glittery with silver and gold. If the Ice Queen of Narnia had been a nice queen, this is the kind of decor I would’ve imagine her to have – something that looked icy cold yet strangely enough felt affably warm at the same time.
People dressed in business chic everywhere, some even more formal that that, what with cleavage, teased up hair and high, high heels. I even saw a pair of Louboutins à la Jennifer Lopez (red-soled designer shoes). I breathed a small sigh of relief; I did not look completely out of place with my black fitting sweater, grey tulip pencil skirt complemented by my high heeled black suede boots tinged with silver gray snakeskin. And yes, I did not forget the “bling”, some chunky turquoise accessories. (Arzee, you would’ve been proud of me).
And indeed, there were food stations in various locations spread out among the two ballrooms and Peacock Alley. Sushi took a prominent spot at the end of the Alley. Fresh seafood and pasta was being prepared in front of our eyes. Waiters and waitresses in crisp black and white circled among the guests with trays of delectable hors d’oeuvres like smoked salmon on little blini pancakes and crème fraiche, petit chicken satay skewers, and steamed asparagus spears. I particularly enjoyed the golden arancini, which were cute little fried rice croquettes stuffed with mozzarella. Of course, there were the famed lamb chops. It seemed everyone raved about them. Beneath the most glorious center chandelier was one wait staff who seemingly out of nowhere, somehow whipped out rack after rack of marvelously roasted, herb encrusted lamb. Each guest took their fill of perfectly cooked lamb, crusty on the outside, deliciously pink on the inside, infinitely sublime all around.
I wish I had more to say about the food. I don’t... One reason was that I was, unfortunately, not well acquainted with my new digital camera and therefore failed to take sumptuous photos of the most elegant smorgasbord I had ever seen. Quite unlike a dear friend, handy with a Canon SLR, who writes one of the top 5 food blogs in South East Asia - http://www.awhiffoflemongrass.com/
The other reason was, halfway through the evening, my eyes caught sight of a young woman, dressed in a sleeveless dress of cobalt blue. What drew me to her was not the colour of her dress, which offered a bright splash of colour among the winter whites. It was her shiny bald head and her big smile that caught my attention.
I suddenly remembered the main reason all these people were here. We were not here just for the food, despite how divine and scrumptious it was. We were not here to rub shoulders with the “other half”…the rich and famous and almost famous – Bob Gainey, then Manager of the Montreal Canadiens hockey team was there, as was comedienne, Caroline Rhea. I remembered why we were here. We were here to spend some money at an auction to raise some funds so that the real star of the evening, the Cedars Breast Clinic would benefit from receiving a digital mammography unit.
Yes, I enjoyed the delectable food tremendously – those lamb chops deserved their reputation! Yes, I was awestruck seeing Caroline Rhea in person – her dress was the same striking cobalt blue as the bald young lady I mentioned earlier. I wonder if Caroline won the Gucci sunglasses she bidded on at the silent auction.
My biggest takeaway, however, was the young lady in cobalt blue who was introduced later that night as a cancer patient. Seeing her reminded me of the frailty and uncertainty of life – cancer strikes without discrimination….. seeing her showed me that the human spirit can rise to the challenge that life brings – a spot of chemo was not going to keep her from participating from doing her part in raising awareness and funds to find a cure for the disease that was trying to kill her. She reminded me that sometimes…just sometimes…. giving up is NOT an option.
Thank you, J. for a marvelous evening. I appreciated more than the food. I appreciated life itself.
PS – same time next year? LOL!!
PPS - $350,000 was raised that night, enough to get a digital mammography unit for the clinic. Bravo!
I received another one of many chain mails this week. I really dislike the superstitious mumbo jumbo stuff about forwarding such e-mails at the end of them. So, since the original creator was not credited, I have decided to share the body of the e-mail here but adjust the opening and closing as only I would, in a blogpost.
Now that I am supposedly "all grown up", I face adult-sized challenges in my daily life. Not all result in success in my favour, which is quite unfortunate. But... supposedly what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. And so, I move forward... sometimes with a skip and a hop and laughter in my heart and other times with a limp, dragging my bruised ego and tired legs behind me.
As I reminisce about my "good old days" with some wonderful people in my past, I catch myself feeling wistful and thoughtful amidst all the laughter at our 80s and 90s fashion and hairstyles. I do not deny a desire to turn back the clock, to for a moment, return to the innocence and wonderment of a 20-year old and perhaps even make some decisions just a bit differently. I certainly know a lot more now than I did then. But then again, that’s quite impossible, isn’t it? We cannot relive the past knowing what we know in the present.
While I think it is natural to wonder about what-ifs and wish-I-could-haves back then, at the end of the day, I live in the here and now. This e-mail that I received reminded me of my first lesson in Carpe Diem through the Robin Williams movie, Dead Poets Society. Carpe Diem is a phrase in a poem by Horace, a Roman poet during the time of Augustus. In his ode, Horace beckons the reader to live the present wholly as the future is unknowable. It was a fabulous movie by the way, but since I cannot read Latin, I am unable to recommend Horace’s poem in whole :)
It seems to me this new decade of my life is crucial for building and sealing relationships, especially familial ones. And so, I choose to face this decade of my life with regular reminders to “seize the day” – make today even better than yesterday. No, let’s rephrase that, make today even more meaningful than yesterday. Yeah, that’s better.
When I am finished getting teary-eyed about the past (and don't even bother telling me not to cry as I believe it is human nature to mourn for what we do not have), I must take the step to acknowledge the present that I do have. Count my blessings (corny but true and a must, in order to move forward)...and if I have to, list them one by one. At each sunset and when night falls, I must choose to celebrate the fact that I have life to live, and live to the fullest. If I am unable to find a single blessing, at least for today, may I look to the battered nation of Haiti and be thankful that I am far better off than at least 3 million inhabitants there.
Anyway – here is the body of the e-mail which prompted this blogpost. There is much truth in it. Share it as you wish. Live it as you choose.
