http://www.seaarchaeology.com/
Tuesday, 24 April 2007
Sunday, 22 April 2007
21 New Items on My Amazon Wish-list
(This blog entry was automatically generated by Multiply's Wish-list Cross-posting beta feature.)
Below are items recently added to my Amazon wish-list. If you are familiar with anything below and have any comments or alternate suggestions, please leave a reply.
Click here to see my full and current wish-list.
 | Science and Civilisation in China: Volume 2, History of Scientific Though Manufacturer: Cambridge University Press Price: $180.94 Learn More |
 | Mongol Warrior 1200-1350 (Warrior) Manufacturer: Osprey Publishing Price: $11.91 Learn More |
 | Mongols (Men-At-Arms Series, 105) Manufacturer: Osprey Publishing Price: $9.11 Learn More |
 | Science and Civilisation in China Volume 7: The Social Background, Part 2, General Conclusions and Reflections Manufacturer: Cambridge University Press Price: $99.60 Learn More |
 | Imperial Chinese Armies (2) 590-1260 AD (Men-At-Arms, No 295) Manufacturer: Osprey Publishing Price: $8.96 Learn More |
| Weapons in Ancient China Manufacturer: Science Press Price: $89.65 Learn More |
 | Greek and Roman Siege Machinery 399 BC-AD 363 (New Vanguard) Manufacturer: Osprey Publishing Price: $9.28 Learn More |
 | Ancient Chinese Armies 1500-200 BC (Men-At-Arms Series, 218) Manufacturer: Osprey Publishing Price: $8.99 Learn More |
 | Chinese Civil War Armies 1911-49 (Men-at-Arms) Manufacturer: Osprey Publishing Price: $8.99 Learn More |
 | Imperial Chinese Armies : 200 BC-589 AD (Men-At-Arms Series, 284) Manufacturer: Osprey Publishing Price: $8.99 Learn More |
 | The Chinese Army 1937-49: World War II and Civil War (Men-at-Arms) Manufacturer: Osprey Publishing Price: $9.15 Learn More |
 | Medieval Chinese Warfare, 300-900 (Warfare and History) Manufacturer: Routledge Price: $32.15 Learn More |
| The Art of War in Ancient India Manufacturer: South Asia Books Price: $26.00 Learn More |
 | The Rise and Fall of the Empires: War Stories in Ancient China (Insights into Chinese History) Manufacturer: Foreign Language Press Price: $9.57 Learn More |
 | Late Imperial Chinese Armies 1520-1840 (Men-at-Arms) Manufacturer: Osprey Publishing Price: $7.91 Learn More |
| History of Warfare in China: The Warring State Period Manufacturer: Westview Pr (Trd) Price: $25.08 Learn More |
| The War and the Chinese Empire (Cassell History of Warfare) Manufacturer: Weidenfeld & Nicholson military Price: N/A Learn More |
| Defining Chu: Image And Reality In Ancient China Manufacturer: University of Hawaii Press Price: $23.02 Learn More |
 | Medieval Chinese Armies 1260-1520 (Men-at-Arms) Manufacturer: Osprey Publishing Price: $9.32 Learn More |
Wednesday, 18 April 2007
... notable events : My final grading...
I eyed him nervously as we faced each other. I knew him rather well since we were in the same class. We were about the same age, the same build and progressed at much the same rate... but yet as we circled each other on the cold concrete floor, I realised that I didn't really know him well enough. I'd wish I'd paid more attention to his style during class. Now with the Masters watching, I was nervous knowing I had to perform or fail.
He started first. Launching into a combination of kicks and tentative punches, I realised that he too was feeling the same about me. Blocking and counterpunching him in return, we traded a few half-hearted blows.
I saw Grandmaster shaking him head. "Oh-o." No good, no good. We were being graded and this tentative fighting was obviously not pleasing him. "Stop dancing around like girls and fight." I heard my Master say something to that effect from the sidelines.
The unfamiliar surroundings may have contributed to our skittishness. We had previously been graded at our training centre where we trained. The Grandmaster would come and we would then be graded in turn, cumulating in a new coloured belt if we passed. Today however, was different. We had turned up in the late afternoon with the usual expectations for the Grading but had instead been bundled into cars to be ferried off to an unknown destination. Where we ended up was an old Indian village called Kampong Gandhi. It was in this old dojo in the middle of a sprawling expanse of rickety wooden houses that the Masters assembled to watch us fight.
"Ok. Stop. Bow." a black clad master stepped in. "What's wrong with you two. You need to do better than that or you'll both fail." he chided. "Now... bow. Fight!" he chopped the air in between the two of us and sprinted back out of the way. Not waiting, I lunged in a forward kick immediately following the bow. He blocked me expertly and swung a return roundhouse aimed at my chest. Dodging I stepped back. He was one belt higher than I, the two of us the most senior of our class, on the verge of obtaining the much vaunted black belt. He was being graded for his 1st Dan Black, I for my 3rd Kyu Brown Provisional Black. I knew we were underperforming. I rubbed my forearm where he had blocked me rather viciously in the earlier bout.
Stealing a look behind my opponent's shoulder, Grandmaster looked stern and a little disappointed in us. Suddenly, my opponent yelled loudly and launched into a series of kicks and punches. Staggering back I blocked and dodged, only just barely able to avoid all the hits and slashes, even the near misses throwing me off-balance. F.. A... I... L... the word rose in my mind. Dammit! Do something... now before I fail, I told myself. Concentrate...
Concentrate...
I needed to focus and concentrate. Forget the strange surroundings. We were here because we were not being graded for lowly blue or green but because we were on the verge of black. No more horseplay. We might only be youngsters, still in high school but that all didn't matter to Grandmaster, not tonight, not now. Tonight we were two aspirants to the final level. All he would be seeing are two combatants who have now come before him to be graded to join the upper belted ranks, he to join the rarified circle of black belted Masters, I to join the level of provisional black.
Concentrate...
This was what it all boiled down to. The surroundings didn't matter. The cold concrete floor didn't matter. The ring of watching Masters didn't matter. The belt didn't matter. The Grandmaster didn't matter. The odd smile of encouragement from fellow students didn't matter. Our ages didn't matter. The few villages gathered at the windows to watch didn't matter. The departure from the regular grading routine didn't matter. The entire world, didn't matter. There was only him, me, now and here, and the skills of our hands and feet.
Concentrate...
I seemingly suddenly felt a lightness in my being that night. Time seemed to slow. It was strangely liberating and liberatingly strange all at once. I watched as my opponent launched into attack almost as if in slow motion. I watched as his bare foot defied gravity and rose off the floor. I don't remember much else that happened after that except that I fought... and defended... and fought... I blocked... he blocked... I took a punch... he took a punch... The whole world condensed into just the two of us. His torso now exposed. His kick a possible opportunity. His block opening up my defenses. My forward motion too vulnerable. His turn a little off balanced. A minute twist indicating a following kick. A side sway a tighten defense. It seemed to last forever... it seemed to last only a moment.
"Stop!" Our Master stepped in between, his hand slicing a divide between us. "Enough. Now bow." he commanded. Our hearts pounding, chest heaving in laboured breath, hair messy from the vigorous jumps and twists, clothes disheveled from landed punches and grabs, we stood and bowed to each other. "Face forward.... bow." we turned and bowed to Grandmaster.
I remember to this day the words he said to me that night as we stood before him and awaited his verdict. "Put your heart, mind and body into it." he started. "If you keep dancing around and fighting like you're both scared of hitting each other, you don't deserve the belt you wear." he scolded. "But I will pass the both of you. But this isn't because I was particularly impressed with your performances tonight. Both of you obviously have the skills or you won't be here tonight, but you were too distracted, too easily distracted... but at least for the last 10 minutes, just as I was going to fail you, you showed that you could find it in yourselves to concentrate and focus on the task at hand. Don't think. Let your instincts flow. Focus on fighting... nothing else matters when you're fighting... understand?" We both nodded.
We both bowed to Grandmaster and then bowed to the assembled Masters after that. I'm not sure how I felt that day. I felt exhilarated to gain another belt but yet his words bit deeply. I needed to learn how to focus. I knew I was easily distracted. This wasn't just about the grading, it was about my life.
"Focus.... remember... focus."
He started first. Launching into a combination of kicks and tentative punches, I realised that he too was feeling the same about me. Blocking and counterpunching him in return, we traded a few half-hearted blows.
I saw Grandmaster shaking him head. "Oh-o." No good, no good. We were being graded and this tentative fighting was obviously not pleasing him. "Stop dancing around like girls and fight." I heard my Master say something to that effect from the sidelines.
The unfamiliar surroundings may have contributed to our skittishness. We had previously been graded at our training centre where we trained. The Grandmaster would come and we would then be graded in turn, cumulating in a new coloured belt if we passed. Today however, was different. We had turned up in the late afternoon with the usual expectations for the Grading but had instead been bundled into cars to be ferried off to an unknown destination. Where we ended up was an old Indian village called Kampong Gandhi. It was in this old dojo in the middle of a sprawling expanse of rickety wooden houses that the Masters assembled to watch us fight.
"Ok. Stop. Bow." a black clad master stepped in. "What's wrong with you two. You need to do better than that or you'll both fail." he chided. "Now... bow. Fight!" he chopped the air in between the two of us and sprinted back out of the way. Not waiting, I lunged in a forward kick immediately following the bow. He blocked me expertly and swung a return roundhouse aimed at my chest. Dodging I stepped back. He was one belt higher than I, the two of us the most senior of our class, on the verge of obtaining the much vaunted black belt. He was being graded for his 1st Dan Black, I for my 3rd Kyu Brown Provisional Black. I knew we were underperforming. I rubbed my forearm where he had blocked me rather viciously in the earlier bout.
Stealing a look behind my opponent's shoulder, Grandmaster looked stern and a little disappointed in us. Suddenly, my opponent yelled loudly and launched into a series of kicks and punches. Staggering back I blocked and dodged, only just barely able to avoid all the hits and slashes, even the near misses throwing me off-balance. F.. A... I... L... the word rose in my mind. Dammit! Do something... now before I fail, I told myself. Concentrate...
Concentrate...
I needed to focus and concentrate. Forget the strange surroundings. We were here because we were not being graded for lowly blue or green but because we were on the verge of black. No more horseplay. We might only be youngsters, still in high school but that all didn't matter to Grandmaster, not tonight, not now. Tonight we were two aspirants to the final level. All he would be seeing are two combatants who have now come before him to be graded to join the upper belted ranks, he to join the rarified circle of black belted Masters, I to join the level of provisional black.
Concentrate...
This was what it all boiled down to. The surroundings didn't matter. The cold concrete floor didn't matter. The ring of watching Masters didn't matter. The belt didn't matter. The Grandmaster didn't matter. The odd smile of encouragement from fellow students didn't matter. Our ages didn't matter. The few villages gathered at the windows to watch didn't matter. The departure from the regular grading routine didn't matter. The entire world, didn't matter. There was only him, me, now and here, and the skills of our hands and feet.
Concentrate...
I seemingly suddenly felt a lightness in my being that night. Time seemed to slow. It was strangely liberating and liberatingly strange all at once. I watched as my opponent launched into attack almost as if in slow motion. I watched as his bare foot defied gravity and rose off the floor. I don't remember much else that happened after that except that I fought... and defended... and fought... I blocked... he blocked... I took a punch... he took a punch... The whole world condensed into just the two of us. His torso now exposed. His kick a possible opportunity. His block opening up my defenses. My forward motion too vulnerable. His turn a little off balanced. A minute twist indicating a following kick. A side sway a tighten defense. It seemed to last forever... it seemed to last only a moment.
"Stop!" Our Master stepped in between, his hand slicing a divide between us. "Enough. Now bow." he commanded. Our hearts pounding, chest heaving in laboured breath, hair messy from the vigorous jumps and twists, clothes disheveled from landed punches and grabs, we stood and bowed to each other. "Face forward.... bow." we turned and bowed to Grandmaster.
I remember to this day the words he said to me that night as we stood before him and awaited his verdict. "Put your heart, mind and body into it." he started. "If you keep dancing around and fighting like you're both scared of hitting each other, you don't deserve the belt you wear." he scolded. "But I will pass the both of you. But this isn't because I was particularly impressed with your performances tonight. Both of you obviously have the skills or you won't be here tonight, but you were too distracted, too easily distracted... but at least for the last 10 minutes, just as I was going to fail you, you showed that you could find it in yourselves to concentrate and focus on the task at hand. Don't think. Let your instincts flow. Focus on fighting... nothing else matters when you're fighting... understand?" We both nodded.
We both bowed to Grandmaster and then bowed to the assembled Masters after that. I'm not sure how I felt that day. I felt exhilarated to gain another belt but yet his words bit deeply. I needed to learn how to focus. I knew I was easily distracted. This wasn't just about the grading, it was about my life.
"Focus.... remember... focus."
... notable events : Wreck beach... of ding-ing dongs and bobbing boobies
Ask anybody in Vancouver about Wreck beach and the response you'll get would range from knowing sniggers to shocked looks of pretentious primness.
We'd of course, all heard about it well before we even left Singapore. How could we not when every returning student and alumni would regale us with tales of the forbidden, each slightly more risque and each increasingly more elaborate than the next? Who wouldn't be curious if you were told that the university you would be going to had a certified nudist beach not 100 metres from where you'll be having classes in an endeavour to broaden our young minds?
So it was with the greatest of expectations that I, a young impressionable undergraduate student from the prudishly victorian societies of Malaysia/Singapore came to Point Grey, Vancouver, the home of Wreck beach. Ironically, as fate would have it, the residence I had chosen to reside in was perched as it is, right on top of one of the major entry trails down to the infamous beach as if to tempt the very soul, and to seek forever the shattering of childhood innocence.
I arrived in late autumn of 1991. Settled into my room on the first floor of my new residence, Cariboo House of Place Vanier, it was time to explore. Together with a new friend I'd met who incidently also hailed from the beautiful tropical emerald country of Malaysia, we had at first resisted the sexy siren's call. We traversed the campus, taking photographs of the Rose Garden, posing by the Statue of Democracy, visiting downtown Vancouver and the famous Stanley Park... but it beckoned us. Like a viral hunger it ate at our resolve, eroding the barriers of our minds, eating away at the rigid moral codes of our upbringing.
... nude...
... women...
... sex...
... the ageless call to every hot-blooded male. Who were we to resist? We are but mere mortal men with mortal failings.
With winter approaching and classes starting to pile up, we decided it was now or never. Donning our jackets against the growing cold, we found ourselves standing at the top of the winding dirt trail which led down the wooded cliff to the beach below. We stumbled apprehensively down the slope, tripping on tree roots and protruding rocks. Apprehensive because of the wild stories of "beach creatures", the inhabitants of Wreck beach at night. "Go if you want to..." older students they told us, but "... always wear shoes, watch where you step and leave before night fall." they warned. Wreck beach... was the exclusive domain of beach creatures where even the much vaunted RCMP dared not tread after dark. Yeah right we both thought. It's just a beach. Ain't it?
The path opened up at the bottom to a scene of chaos. Timber littered the stony beach. I'm not sure what we had expected, beautiful sandy beaches with crystal clear waters perhaps, but not this rocky expanse of broken cliffside beach. We shivered in the biting sea breeze searching for the beautiful naked bodies we were expecting to see... where were they?
We found lots of evidence of people having been here, a punctured beach ball, a torn picnic mat, some unidentifiable article of clothing, cigarette butts, candy wrappers, questionable containers, broken bottles, rusty tincans, broken syringes... but no heavenly bodies. Sigh.
With a heavy heart we turned back. The beach was empty. Nude season was probably over we concluded. The biting cold wind blowing at us from the northwestern sky was probably the reason. This wind came straight from the frigid wastes of the artic and was hardly a conducive environment for a person such as I who was fully clothed, what more a naked one. We'll be back next summer we both agreed and promised.
So that was how our first personal attempt at peeling back the naked secrets of Wreck beach ended that year. The school term really began as the winter set in and we were soon busy in our studies and struggling to cope with a new academic system so different from what we were used to back home. A brief day of hazing by my residence house brought all the frosh, as all first years were called on campus, in a quick run down to the beach while wearing nothing but diapers one cold October day, but I already knew what to expect having already been down to the beach earlier. A quick forced drink of sea water and we were running back up the wooded trail again to the campus proper as part of the hazing ceremony with me puking my guts out later from the non-stop beer, sea water and diapered run. The beach was empty much as my earlier explorations had already revealed.
Time passed with exams, snow, skiing, Christmas holidays, skiing, parties, studies, and did I mention skiing? ... and all manner of interesting things happening on campus. E-week stunts, Lady Godiva parades, Red underwear checks, Centurion drinking matches, Cross-dressed engineering student cheerleaders, International House dance parties, and every other conceivable form of chaos. I would watch my wall vibrate and knock my entire can collection down whenever "oldman fossil" as we called him in the room nextdoor played his electric guitar. I would watch as an assortment of females would enter certain rooms and not emerge for days. I would watch every weekend when whole residences would smell of puke and stale beer. I would watch as people come in at weird hours of the night and intoxicately go bouncing from wall to wall. Sometimes they managed to bounce back to their rooms but more often than not, to spend the night on the corridor floor. We played weird games with those drunks as part of the fun but I also spent on not a few occasions, time to help the Resident Advisors carry drunks back into buildings so that we won't get a frozen dead body in the morning. Sometimes we would have last minute room parties with girls from the other houses, where the bed was the dance floor and the whole room was standing space only with loud music and booze aplenty. Sometimes we would go to the old armouries building to play ball hockey or just do somersault jumps off the 2nd floor onto the gymnast mats below. Sometimes we would spend countless night in a row missing classes with no sleep either playing risk, or sneaking into movies, or stealing into the Arts computer lab to play computer games, but all this study, fun and games passed quickly, and soon spring was in the air. .. and again, soon... oh so very soon... it would be sunbathing season we grinned happily.
Before we had the chance to attempt another descent however, one incident illustrated to us the dangers we would face and emphasized the warning we had heard over and over again about beach creatures. It was late one night and I was in my room, when I heard a commotion outside my door. Footsteps thundered down the hall and there was the sounds of crashing on the walls and doors. I rose from my table from whatever I was doing at the time and stood at the door as the sounds of running feet stormed past my door. Mere moments later, two sets of heavy booted footsteps came pounding past after the first set. Hand hovering over the door handle I deliberated silently. Should I open the door? What's going on? Soon however, the reassuring sounds of some of my floormates chatting loudly in excited voices helped allay my fears and I too stepped out to see what was going on. Following the excited group of fellow students out the rear entrance that was just next to my room, we piled out the door and assembled just outside the building to watch, emerging just in time to see a disheveled man disappear into the undergrowth along the dark path that led down to the beach with two large and burly RCMP officers with their radios and firearms drawn in hot pursuit. Then to our amazement, just as we thought the fugitive would be caught, the two police officers stopped short right at the edge of the trail.
"We've lost him. Repeat, we've lost him. Over. bzzzt bzzt bzzzzzt" one of the officers radioed.
Dumbfounded, we just stood there, eyes and mouths wide open in the cold dark and stared at the two police officers who were just standing around peering down the slope and frantically gesturing. The message hit home. That was how dangerous Wreck Beach was at night that even two armed RCMP police officers would rather let a fugitive escape then to continue pursuit.
It was in this frame of mind that we attempted our third descent into Wreck Beach. We purposely chose a bright and sunny summer day. Exams were just over and it was the start of our summer holidays. So there we were, a little older, a little wiser but not the least less enthusiastic about Wreck Beach. The events of the past semester only serving to heighten the excitement and curiosity.
We trudge down the same windy trail, stepping over roots and protruding rocks. The initial signs were promising as we passed a few scantily dressed people on the way down. Emerging once again at the base of the cliff, the same cluttered beach greeted us but this time... this time, things were slightly different! There were people and lots of them too! Suddenly we both felt extremely self conscious. We exchanged a glance... Nah... I didn't exactly have any particular desire to strip, but more importantly, I definitely didn't want to scar my mind with the sight of him naked... and I sensed the same thoughts going through his head. Ok, fine. We'll go in fully clothed and hope we don't get pelted with rocks.
Gingerly we made our way along the beach, heading to the water's edge, still careful to avoid the scattered dangers on the broken ground. To be honest, that was all we dared to do. Looking anywhere else just seemed... inappropriate. I mean... for real, these people were... NAKED. We walked on, our eyes darting all over the place, trying to see yet trying not to see... screwing our nose in disgust whenever our wandering gaze passed over a particularly disgustingly shriveled sight, sniggering privately when we spotted a group of men and women playing a very bouncy game of volleyball, doing a couple of double-takes whenever we see any reasonably youngish female.... and all the while, feeling SOOOOO out of place in our clothes.... maybe if we pretend like we're looking for a place on the beach to sit and then strip... ugghhh... no, maybe not. I don't want people to think we're like butt buddies. Better to risk looking like nerdy curious students...
.... but for the most part, Wreck Beach was a disappointment. We were expecting beauty of the California Beach variety, and we found... uhhhhh.... less then par. Having walked down to the water's edge, we paused to stare out to sea and stood there lost in our own thoughts, having passed through the thickest part of the nudist camp and not a little relieved that we hadn't been accosted and made to strip.
"Go back?" I asked. "Yeah." came the muffled reply... we were suddenly unwilling to make eye-contact. We took a different path back, not wanting to walk through the mass of wrinkled flesh anymore than we had to. Skirting the edge, we headed back towards the exit trail. Interestingly though, it was while we were walking our circular path that we actually saw stuff that came closer to what we had originally expected in our mind's eye. There were a few couples hidden amongst the larger boulders by the cliffside that were fairly decently proportioned. Large grins began to spread over our faces. Now we're talking! We kept walking, not daring to stop and stare, stealing fleeting glances whenever we could but most of the couples were quite well hidden, and glimpses of rounded rumps, fuzzy hair and fleshy mounds were all we were afforded.
Still grinning like idiots, we soon arrived back at the start of the trail. Halfway up the trail, we couldn't hold it in any longer and we both started laughing and giggling like little boys. It was fun, the experience to us so out-of-this-world that we really had no words for it except to grin and laugh away the mixed feelings of nervousness, excitement, disappointment, happiness, satisfaction and fear. This was our university. We came here for an education... and boy did we get an education. ;)
Wreck Beach.
Point Grey.
Vancouver.
British Columbia.
Canada.
We'd of course, all heard about it well before we even left Singapore. How could we not when every returning student and alumni would regale us with tales of the forbidden, each slightly more risque and each increasingly more elaborate than the next? Who wouldn't be curious if you were told that the university you would be going to had a certified nudist beach not 100 metres from where you'll be having classes in an endeavour to broaden our young minds?
So it was with the greatest of expectations that I, a young impressionable undergraduate student from the prudishly victorian societies of Malaysia/Singapore came to Point Grey, Vancouver, the home of Wreck beach. Ironically, as fate would have it, the residence I had chosen to reside in was perched as it is, right on top of one of the major entry trails down to the infamous beach as if to tempt the very soul, and to seek forever the shattering of childhood innocence.
I arrived in late autumn of 1991. Settled into my room on the first floor of my new residence, Cariboo House of Place Vanier, it was time to explore. Together with a new friend I'd met who incidently also hailed from the beautiful tropical emerald country of Malaysia, we had at first resisted the sexy siren's call. We traversed the campus, taking photographs of the Rose Garden, posing by the Statue of Democracy, visiting downtown Vancouver and the famous Stanley Park... but it beckoned us. Like a viral hunger it ate at our resolve, eroding the barriers of our minds, eating away at the rigid moral codes of our upbringing.
... nude...
... women...
... sex...
... the ageless call to every hot-blooded male. Who were we to resist? We are but mere mortal men with mortal failings.
With winter approaching and classes starting to pile up, we decided it was now or never. Donning our jackets against the growing cold, we found ourselves standing at the top of the winding dirt trail which led down the wooded cliff to the beach below. We stumbled apprehensively down the slope, tripping on tree roots and protruding rocks. Apprehensive because of the wild stories of "beach creatures", the inhabitants of Wreck beach at night. "Go if you want to..." older students they told us, but "... always wear shoes, watch where you step and leave before night fall." they warned. Wreck beach... was the exclusive domain of beach creatures where even the much vaunted RCMP dared not tread after dark. Yeah right we both thought. It's just a beach. Ain't it?
The path opened up at the bottom to a scene of chaos. Timber littered the stony beach. I'm not sure what we had expected, beautiful sandy beaches with crystal clear waters perhaps, but not this rocky expanse of broken cliffside beach. We shivered in the biting sea breeze searching for the beautiful naked bodies we were expecting to see... where were they?
We found lots of evidence of people having been here, a punctured beach ball, a torn picnic mat, some unidentifiable article of clothing, cigarette butts, candy wrappers, questionable containers, broken bottles, rusty tincans, broken syringes... but no heavenly bodies. Sigh.
With a heavy heart we turned back. The beach was empty. Nude season was probably over we concluded. The biting cold wind blowing at us from the northwestern sky was probably the reason. This wind came straight from the frigid wastes of the artic and was hardly a conducive environment for a person such as I who was fully clothed, what more a naked one. We'll be back next summer we both agreed and promised.
So that was how our first personal attempt at peeling back the naked secrets of Wreck beach ended that year. The school term really began as the winter set in and we were soon busy in our studies and struggling to cope with a new academic system so different from what we were used to back home. A brief day of hazing by my residence house brought all the frosh, as all first years were called on campus, in a quick run down to the beach while wearing nothing but diapers one cold October day, but I already knew what to expect having already been down to the beach earlier. A quick forced drink of sea water and we were running back up the wooded trail again to the campus proper as part of the hazing ceremony with me puking my guts out later from the non-stop beer, sea water and diapered run. The beach was empty much as my earlier explorations had already revealed.
Time passed with exams, snow, skiing, Christmas holidays, skiing, parties, studies, and did I mention skiing? ... and all manner of interesting things happening on campus. E-week stunts, Lady Godiva parades, Red underwear checks, Centurion drinking matches, Cross-dressed engineering student cheerleaders, International House dance parties, and every other conceivable form of chaos. I would watch my wall vibrate and knock my entire can collection down whenever "oldman fossil" as we called him in the room nextdoor played his electric guitar. I would watch as an assortment of females would enter certain rooms and not emerge for days. I would watch every weekend when whole residences would smell of puke and stale beer. I would watch as people come in at weird hours of the night and intoxicately go bouncing from wall to wall. Sometimes they managed to bounce back to their rooms but more often than not, to spend the night on the corridor floor. We played weird games with those drunks as part of the fun but I also spent on not a few occasions, time to help the Resident Advisors carry drunks back into buildings so that we won't get a frozen dead body in the morning. Sometimes we would have last minute room parties with girls from the other houses, where the bed was the dance floor and the whole room was standing space only with loud music and booze aplenty. Sometimes we would go to the old armouries building to play ball hockey or just do somersault jumps off the 2nd floor onto the gymnast mats below. Sometimes we would spend countless night in a row missing classes with no sleep either playing risk, or sneaking into movies, or stealing into the Arts computer lab to play computer games, but all this study, fun and games passed quickly, and soon spring was in the air. .. and again, soon... oh so very soon... it would be sunbathing season we grinned happily.
Before we had the chance to attempt another descent however, one incident illustrated to us the dangers we would face and emphasized the warning we had heard over and over again about beach creatures. It was late one night and I was in my room, when I heard a commotion outside my door. Footsteps thundered down the hall and there was the sounds of crashing on the walls and doors. I rose from my table from whatever I was doing at the time and stood at the door as the sounds of running feet stormed past my door. Mere moments later, two sets of heavy booted footsteps came pounding past after the first set. Hand hovering over the door handle I deliberated silently. Should I open the door? What's going on? Soon however, the reassuring sounds of some of my floormates chatting loudly in excited voices helped allay my fears and I too stepped out to see what was going on. Following the excited group of fellow students out the rear entrance that was just next to my room, we piled out the door and assembled just outside the building to watch, emerging just in time to see a disheveled man disappear into the undergrowth along the dark path that led down to the beach with two large and burly RCMP officers with their radios and firearms drawn in hot pursuit. Then to our amazement, just as we thought the fugitive would be caught, the two police officers stopped short right at the edge of the trail.
"We've lost him. Repeat, we've lost him. Over. bzzzt bzzt bzzzzzt" one of the officers radioed.
Dumbfounded, we just stood there, eyes and mouths wide open in the cold dark and stared at the two police officers who were just standing around peering down the slope and frantically gesturing. The message hit home. That was how dangerous Wreck Beach was at night that even two armed RCMP police officers would rather let a fugitive escape then to continue pursuit.
It was in this frame of mind that we attempted our third descent into Wreck Beach. We purposely chose a bright and sunny summer day. Exams were just over and it was the start of our summer holidays. So there we were, a little older, a little wiser but not the least less enthusiastic about Wreck Beach. The events of the past semester only serving to heighten the excitement and curiosity.
We trudge down the same windy trail, stepping over roots and protruding rocks. The initial signs were promising as we passed a few scantily dressed people on the way down. Emerging once again at the base of the cliff, the same cluttered beach greeted us but this time... this time, things were slightly different! There were people and lots of them too! Suddenly we both felt extremely self conscious. We exchanged a glance... Nah... I didn't exactly have any particular desire to strip, but more importantly, I definitely didn't want to scar my mind with the sight of him naked... and I sensed the same thoughts going through his head. Ok, fine. We'll go in fully clothed and hope we don't get pelted with rocks.
Gingerly we made our way along the beach, heading to the water's edge, still careful to avoid the scattered dangers on the broken ground. To be honest, that was all we dared to do. Looking anywhere else just seemed... inappropriate. I mean... for real, these people were... NAKED. We walked on, our eyes darting all over the place, trying to see yet trying not to see... screwing our nose in disgust whenever our wandering gaze passed over a particularly disgustingly shriveled sight, sniggering privately when we spotted a group of men and women playing a very bouncy game of volleyball, doing a couple of double-takes whenever we see any reasonably youngish female.... and all the while, feeling SOOOOO out of place in our clothes.... maybe if we pretend like we're looking for a place on the beach to sit and then strip... ugghhh... no, maybe not. I don't want people to think we're like butt buddies. Better to risk looking like nerdy curious students...
.... but for the most part, Wreck Beach was a disappointment. We were expecting beauty of the California Beach variety, and we found... uhhhhh.... less then par. Having walked down to the water's edge, we paused to stare out to sea and stood there lost in our own thoughts, having passed through the thickest part of the nudist camp and not a little relieved that we hadn't been accosted and made to strip.
"Go back?" I asked. "Yeah." came the muffled reply... we were suddenly unwilling to make eye-contact. We took a different path back, not wanting to walk through the mass of wrinkled flesh anymore than we had to. Skirting the edge, we headed back towards the exit trail. Interestingly though, it was while we were walking our circular path that we actually saw stuff that came closer to what we had originally expected in our mind's eye. There were a few couples hidden amongst the larger boulders by the cliffside that were fairly decently proportioned. Large grins began to spread over our faces. Now we're talking! We kept walking, not daring to stop and stare, stealing fleeting glances whenever we could but most of the couples were quite well hidden, and glimpses of rounded rumps, fuzzy hair and fleshy mounds were all we were afforded.
Still grinning like idiots, we soon arrived back at the start of the trail. Halfway up the trail, we couldn't hold it in any longer and we both started laughing and giggling like little boys. It was fun, the experience to us so out-of-this-world that we really had no words for it except to grin and laugh away the mixed feelings of nervousness, excitement, disappointment, happiness, satisfaction and fear. This was our university. We came here for an education... and boy did we get an education. ;)
Wreck Beach.
Point Grey.
Vancouver.
British Columbia.
Canada.
Tuesday, 17 April 2007
... notable events : Bigfoot's Footprint
1978. Father had shifted us out of our rented house at West Vine Street and moved us onto campus family housing. He was in his final year of his Masters at the Western Michigan University and this would be our last home in Kalamazoo before returning to sunny, tropical Malaysia.
I was still forced to learn and study my Malay although to a small kid, I couldn't for the life of me understand why Mother insisted that learning "Satu", "Dua", "Tiga" would matter the slightest bit in a world of American kids who took pride in bullying small statured Chinese boys like me.
It was an exciting year. I was in Grade 2. I was 7 years old. A big boy now, not a crybaby 1st grader! It was also a time of wonder and a time of change. Star Wars had been released only recently and having caught it with parents and sister at the local cinema, I was filled with an unstoppable sense of wonder about the world outside my limited viewpoint. I gobbled up everything I could get my hands on. TV was full of science fiction shows like Battlestar Galactica and Star Trek, and the toystores were stocked with X-wing Fighter models and small figurines of Cylons. It was also the year when I got my first snow sled which prompted me to abandon my old faded orange plastic kid's motorcycle that Father had found in the basement of the old West Vine Street place. It was bright red with yellow hold ropes along the sides and heaps of fun! It was during this year when my teeth started falling out too. "Baby teeth." said mother. Milk teeth, she meant. Father also got himself a video camera at about this time and we made loads of silly videos with it, including one of my little sister with my sled in an encounter with a tree and one where I was made to stand on a table and sing. It was also the first year when I had a proper halloween complete with costume. But it was also the year I first heard about... Bigfoot.
Bigfoot. The mysterious monster in the woods. It was in the news, it flew around the school yard on the wings of rumour, it fired the imagination. Cool... Bigfoot.
I heard it first at the playground with the 3-D space frame. This playground out of a total of some 5-6 playground scattered about the campus family housing, was the only one with a 3-D space frame which I loved climbing in and out of. It was relatively far from our unit, practically on the other side of the housing area, but it happened to be the playground right by the campus residence entrance gate where I had to walk to every morning to catch my yellow school bus to go to school. So I knew exactly where it was and exactly how to get there. The kids on this side were strangers but I loved the space frame and would trudge over whenever I could. It was here when I heard the news from some of the other kids. A footprint of Bigfoot had been found! Not only that, it had been found on a small knoll, just across the road from our playground.
Little eyes watched that hill. For days I entertained thoughts of going over to explore. It was out-of-bounds of course... the little hill sat just beyond the perimeter fence, on the other side of the boundary road... but it called to me. I dreadfully yearned to see that footprint!
"Where was it exactly?" I would ask the other kids. "Can I see it?" I would bother the larger kids to show me. "There." they pointed. "Just on the right slope before the trees."
For weeks, I dreamt of going. I couldn't think of anything else. I just had to see it! The desire burned in me, a desperate need to go. It was never far from my thoughts. Bigfoot. Whoa... I was on Bigfoot-mania... it captured my imagination and fired my curiousity. It was my life ambition, my one true goal in life, my life's burning mission...
So one day, I made up my mind to go... and I went. None of the other kids would take me so I'd decided I'd go... by myself. I stepped out of the house with a purpose and made the long journey to the playground. Hanging around the playground for awhile, I watched and I waited. Seized with indecision I paused, the thoughts running through my brain. It was harmless wasn't it? The road was a carpark road, no traffic. The fence had a gap in it. Then I would be over and back in barely any time at all. I just needed to take a peek at that slope!
I could see it from my vantage point, perched as I was on the top of the 3-D space frame. So close... so very close... and I just needed to see it from even closer. But what if it was dangerous? What if I went over... and I met... Bigfoot! Did he eat little children? Probably. But dammit, I want to see it!
Seeing no other kids around, picking up the courage, but knowing that if Mom found out, I'd be whacked for sure, I went.
My heart was pounding as I walked across the tarmac. The rip in the fence was easy enough to get through for a little boy like me. I was a little fearful, yet excited all the same. What drove me was a feverish desire to see the footprint for myself, but more than the threat of Mother's whacking or Father's lecture, I was more afraid of meeting Bigfoot himself.
The climb was easy, it was summer and the grass was green and the soil firm beneath my feet. I topped the hill and found a hiking trail. Where was the footprint? I was exactly where the kids were pointing to and said it would be. Where was it?
Looking back over the residences, I saw the road, the gate, the playground and the white walls of the residential blocks. I saw the university campus spread out just beyond the roof tops. I saw some of the kids coming out to play. But I didn't see Bigfoot. I didn't see his footprint. Where was it? That it might not even exist never even entered my mind. I searched frantically. I dared not step beyond the edge of the trail. The dark woods beyond was a promise of danger too great for the likes of me. If anything, I would be safe here by the hiking trail. But beyond this, in the dark woods, Bigfoot lurked. My eyes scanned the ground... a gnawing urge to run back home but yet unable to pull myself away... desperately searching.
I'm not sure what I found. To this day, I can't say for sure although logic tells me that it can't be true. What I do remember seeing was a larger than normal footprint. Was it Bigfoot's? Maybe. But maybe not. To a 7 year old, any footprint was large. In my desperation to see a true footprint of Bigfoot's I would probably project just about anything into the form of a footprint in my mind. Could I truly have found Bigfoot's footprint in the dirt on that grassy knoll by the side of a university campus residence in the middle of the urban sprawl of Kalamazoo, Michigan?
*Shrug* Who knows.
... notable events : The neighbour's house...
Uncle Rosly. That's what we called him. He was our new neighbour along our rear boundary fence and it was a love-hate relationship from the start.
It all started in the early 1980s. My father, taking advantage of low property prices, had purchased a piece of land in what was then the limits of the Petaling Jaya township. Located in the housing area designated as SS3 along the road SS3/1, it was to be his dream house, his legacy, his house.
It faced a small service road just inside of a main road that was at the time, rather pompously labelled Jalan Majlis. To the left was a small electrical sub-station on a wasted piece of empty land which was at least 20% larger than ours, while to the right was a large monsoon drain across of which was a 2 storey house belonging to a Chinese contractor with the same surname as ours. The rear boundary was the only real boundary that we shared with anyone else... Uncle Rosly.
He had been the first to build a house on that small square of land with just 4 housing plots, building on the inner most quarter. We were the second.
Right from the start, our interactions with our then future neighbour began and the house had yet to even be built. The surveyors found out that Uncle Rosly had erected his rear fence at least 2 metres into our property. The architect for our house was called. After a little tussle and a little haggling, we eventually got our 2 metre stretch of land back, but our housing contractor would have to erect the common chain-linked fence at our cost. Fine. We were building fences along the other 3 sides anyways. What was important was that we got the correct size of land that we'd paid for.
Interestingly, it created a strange situation for Uncle Rosly. He had suddenly lost his entire spacious turfing along his backyard. Not only that, we had suddenly become the proud owners of a very nice coconut tree, one which I would over the years, climb and pluck the succulent fruit and hone my coconut parring skills with a kitchen chopping knife with. It stood at the left rear corner of our property and abutted a short sliver of Uncle Rosly's fencing which was now very obviously jutting into the other two plots. Apparently our dear Uncle Rosly had not only built his fence into our lot, he had also shifted his fence into his other two neighbours' lots as well, and hence now protruded a small rectangle of fenced area into the substation's lot. Tsk tsk tsk.
With the spacious land came our dog to patrol and guard the property. We named him Andy. He was a bright and intelligent fellow, black furred with brown splotches, and he even came with a birth certificate. Perrin Coffee was the name on his official birth certificate although we didn't call him that. I guess the Coffee was in referrence to his dark coat. As for Perrin, I had no idea but with his birth certificate, he was definite pedigree. Uncle Rosly however, didn't think much of our pedigree Perrin Coffee aka Andy. Uncle Rosly like most Malays, loved of all things, cats. He had probably close to a dozen cats at anytime in and around his house and each and everyone of those pampered royal cats, took offense at our Andy. It was pandamonium everytime a cat chose to come near the border between our two houses... the border of which was guarded and patrolled by the cat's sworn enemy.
It didn't take Uncle Rosly long. Up went a thick hedgerow along the chain-linked fence. It grew and grew and soon grew taller than the original fence until I doubt I could find the fence inside that monsterous growth today if I tried. But it worked. It was a lot more peaceful after that. We could still hear the cats, and Andy as well as his successor the brown furred with black patched Cindy, patrolled the land still, and on occassion found fault and reason to bark through the dark green leafy mass. By and large however, the peace was kept.
We never saw much of what went on over the fence after that. On occasion, the savoury smells of curry or rendang would waft across, or the muffled sounds of maids laughing while hanging out the clothes to dry could be heard, but the border was otherwise impenetrable. In my gardening chores, I struggled to maintain the overgrowth from spilling into our side of the fence but there was no stopping the monster. It grew so thick that one couldn't even see through the fence. That was when one day we realised that something wasn't quite right.
The barkings had stopped for days now. Not a sound came across the boundary. It was strange. On the floor above, from my sister's room windows I watched. Apparently, something was wrong. The lights never went on at night, the cats never roamed and nary a sound came from across the fence. Uncle Rosly's house was empty, his half completed renovations along the monsoon drain side to add a 3rd storey roof terrace was abandonned, unfinished. Having done a few bike-bys of Uncle Rosly's frontgate over the next few days, I confirmed that it was well and truly abandonned. Uncle Rosly, our dearest neighbour for years... was gone.
This was an awesome mystery to a young teenager like me! One worthy of the Famous Five and the Hardy boys (not to mention, Nancy Drew too), and I was not one to shy away from a ready adventure. Over the fence I went, torchlight in hand.
It was spooky right from the start.
The front door was open, the lights weren't working and most of the things were gone except for perhaps the large pieces of furniture. There was dust, papers and just about every bit of rubbish imaginable, strewn everywhere. Even the cats were gone although I saw much evidence of their royal presence within the house, a paw print here, a cat's toy there... it just seemed so abandonned, yet it contained so much of a living presence. It was after all, our much loved Uncle Rosly's house... the one we had learned to live with and grown up with, it's often reassuring presence along our rear boundary... always there... now simply... gone. It was too much for a young kid like me to take in. I got as far as the entrance to the kitchen before bolting back out through the hall and out the front door. I didn't stop there. I ran straight out the front driveway gate which was also unlocked and ran round the semi-ring road that led from Uncle Rosly's place to the sanctuary of our own garden gate, not stopping till I was well and safely back within our own walls.
I don't know what happened to Uncle Rosly. My parents say that he went into financial problems and his house was seized. I don't think even they knew for sure what happened. The house stayed empty and lightless for years. The cats never teased my dog anymore, the half completed renovations were never finished. That was how it stayed when later my family too, shifted out of our family house and moved down to Singapore to work and study.
Often on return trips to check on our house tenants, we would see new people in old Uncle Rosly's house, evidence of changes, evidence of life returned, but to me, it was all too distant... to me, it would always be Uncle Rosly's house with Uncle Rosly's cats, Uncle Rosly's monster fence and Uncle Rosly's coconut tree which he had so graciously planted for us.
It all started in the early 1980s. My father, taking advantage of low property prices, had purchased a piece of land in what was then the limits of the Petaling Jaya township. Located in the housing area designated as SS3 along the road SS3/1, it was to be his dream house, his legacy, his house.
It faced a small service road just inside of a main road that was at the time, rather pompously labelled Jalan Majlis. To the left was a small electrical sub-station on a wasted piece of empty land which was at least 20% larger than ours, while to the right was a large monsoon drain across of which was a 2 storey house belonging to a Chinese contractor with the same surname as ours. The rear boundary was the only real boundary that we shared with anyone else... Uncle Rosly.
He had been the first to build a house on that small square of land with just 4 housing plots, building on the inner most quarter. We were the second.
Right from the start, our interactions with our then future neighbour began and the house had yet to even be built. The surveyors found out that Uncle Rosly had erected his rear fence at least 2 metres into our property. The architect for our house was called. After a little tussle and a little haggling, we eventually got our 2 metre stretch of land back, but our housing contractor would have to erect the common chain-linked fence at our cost. Fine. We were building fences along the other 3 sides anyways. What was important was that we got the correct size of land that we'd paid for.
Interestingly, it created a strange situation for Uncle Rosly. He had suddenly lost his entire spacious turfing along his backyard. Not only that, we had suddenly become the proud owners of a very nice coconut tree, one which I would over the years, climb and pluck the succulent fruit and hone my coconut parring skills with a kitchen chopping knife with. It stood at the left rear corner of our property and abutted a short sliver of Uncle Rosly's fencing which was now very obviously jutting into the other two plots. Apparently our dear Uncle Rosly had not only built his fence into our lot, he had also shifted his fence into his other two neighbours' lots as well, and hence now protruded a small rectangle of fenced area into the substation's lot. Tsk tsk tsk.
With the spacious land came our dog to patrol and guard the property. We named him Andy. He was a bright and intelligent fellow, black furred with brown splotches, and he even came with a birth certificate. Perrin Coffee was the name on his official birth certificate although we didn't call him that. I guess the Coffee was in referrence to his dark coat. As for Perrin, I had no idea but with his birth certificate, he was definite pedigree. Uncle Rosly however, didn't think much of our pedigree Perrin Coffee aka Andy. Uncle Rosly like most Malays, loved of all things, cats. He had probably close to a dozen cats at anytime in and around his house and each and everyone of those pampered royal cats, took offense at our Andy. It was pandamonium everytime a cat chose to come near the border between our two houses... the border of which was guarded and patrolled by the cat's sworn enemy.
It didn't take Uncle Rosly long. Up went a thick hedgerow along the chain-linked fence. It grew and grew and soon grew taller than the original fence until I doubt I could find the fence inside that monsterous growth today if I tried. But it worked. It was a lot more peaceful after that. We could still hear the cats, and Andy as well as his successor the brown furred with black patched Cindy, patrolled the land still, and on occassion found fault and reason to bark through the dark green leafy mass. By and large however, the peace was kept.
We never saw much of what went on over the fence after that. On occasion, the savoury smells of curry or rendang would waft across, or the muffled sounds of maids laughing while hanging out the clothes to dry could be heard, but the border was otherwise impenetrable. In my gardening chores, I struggled to maintain the overgrowth from spilling into our side of the fence but there was no stopping the monster. It grew so thick that one couldn't even see through the fence. That was when one day we realised that something wasn't quite right.
The barkings had stopped for days now. Not a sound came across the boundary. It was strange. On the floor above, from my sister's room windows I watched. Apparently, something was wrong. The lights never went on at night, the cats never roamed and nary a sound came from across the fence. Uncle Rosly's house was empty, his half completed renovations along the monsoon drain side to add a 3rd storey roof terrace was abandonned, unfinished. Having done a few bike-bys of Uncle Rosly's frontgate over the next few days, I confirmed that it was well and truly abandonned. Uncle Rosly, our dearest neighbour for years... was gone.
This was an awesome mystery to a young teenager like me! One worthy of the Famous Five and the Hardy boys (not to mention, Nancy Drew too), and I was not one to shy away from a ready adventure. Over the fence I went, torchlight in hand.
It was spooky right from the start.
The front door was open, the lights weren't working and most of the things were gone except for perhaps the large pieces of furniture. There was dust, papers and just about every bit of rubbish imaginable, strewn everywhere. Even the cats were gone although I saw much evidence of their royal presence within the house, a paw print here, a cat's toy there... it just seemed so abandonned, yet it contained so much of a living presence. It was after all, our much loved Uncle Rosly's house... the one we had learned to live with and grown up with, it's often reassuring presence along our rear boundary... always there... now simply... gone. It was too much for a young kid like me to take in. I got as far as the entrance to the kitchen before bolting back out through the hall and out the front door. I didn't stop there. I ran straight out the front driveway gate which was also unlocked and ran round the semi-ring road that led from Uncle Rosly's place to the sanctuary of our own garden gate, not stopping till I was well and safely back within our own walls.
I don't know what happened to Uncle Rosly. My parents say that he went into financial problems and his house was seized. I don't think even they knew for sure what happened. The house stayed empty and lightless for years. The cats never teased my dog anymore, the half completed renovations were never finished. That was how it stayed when later my family too, shifted out of our family house and moved down to Singapore to work and study.
Often on return trips to check on our house tenants, we would see new people in old Uncle Rosly's house, evidence of changes, evidence of life returned, but to me, it was all too distant... to me, it would always be Uncle Rosly's house with Uncle Rosly's cats, Uncle Rosly's monster fence and Uncle Rosly's coconut tree which he had so graciously planted for us.
Monday, 16 April 2007
Wednesday, 4 April 2007
Project - Singapore's History Investigated
List of Forts and Batteries
(to be updated when new info presents itself)
1. Scandal Point, 1819-1851
Armament unknown
- No Remains.
- Site accessibility non-existent.
Built near the Padang in 1819 and armed with 12 Pounder ML Guns. Singapore’s first fixed defences.
2. Fort Fullerton, 1830-1874
1867 Battery 2 x 56 PR Guns, 2 x 13 inch Mortars
- No remains.
- Site accessibility non-existent.
Stood where the Fullerton Hotel now is.
3. Fort Palmer 1859
1867 Battery 5 x 56 PR Guns
1878 Battery 2 x 7 inch RML Guns
1890 Battery 2 x 10 inch BL Guns
1892 RA Gunner Strength: 26
- No known remains.
- Site accessibility difficult.
Mt. Palmer on which the fort stood on was almost entirely leveled for land reclamation works, leaving only a small stub of hill behind the Foot Tet Soo Khek Temple on Palmer Road. Mount Palmer, also known as Parsee Hill, at an estimated height of 119 feet, was the largest of a row of coastal hills located near Tanjong Pagar and the bay of the early 19th century Telok Ayer Street. Purchased by Mr. John Palmer shortly after the founding of the Singapore settlement, the hill became a defence facility called Fort Palmer.
4. Mount Faber, 1859/1862
1867 Battery 2 x 56 PR Guns, 2 x 13 inch Mortars
- Significant remains. Incompletely charted.
- Site accessibility difficult.
Underground rooms of the WW2 Faber Fire Command still exist, but the entrance is sealed.
5. Fort Teregah, 1861-1941
1885 3 x 64 PR ML Guns
1892 RA Guner strength: 8
- Significant remains. Incompletely charted.
- Site accessibility restricted.
Was located on what was the southeastern tip of Pulau Brani before land reclamation works. Underground complex remains. Area is currently off-limits to the public.
6. Fort Silingsing, 1901-1941
Armament unknown
1915 Unit strength: 1 Office, 1 NCO, 15 SVC Men
- Significant remains. Incompletely charted.
- Site accessibility restricted.
Located on Pulau Brani. No visible remains on the surface, but magazine room is still believed to be underground. Area is currently off-limits to the public.
7. Pasir Laba Battery
- Significant remains. Incompletely charted.
- Site accessibility restricted.
Located in what is now MINDEF land on the western coast of Singapore. Remains of this two gun Mark VII 6-Inch BL Gun Battery are thought to still exist.
8. Changi Battery
- No remains.
- Site accessibility restricted.
Located on the hill behind Changi Village at what is now Changi Airport's Radar station. No remains are left of this two gun Mark VII 6-Inch BL Gun Battery.
9. Beting Kusah Battery
- No remains.
- Site accessibility restricted.
Locatred by the beach near Telok Paku. No remains of this two gun Mark VII 6-Inch BL Gun Battery exists. The site is now under Changi airport.
10. Sphinx Battery
- No remains. Incompletely charted.
- Site accessibility restricted.
Located on Pulau Tekong on restricted MINDEF land. No remains are believed to exist.
11. Tekong Besar Battery
- Significant remains. Incompletely charted.
- Site accessibility restricted.
Located on Pulau Tekong on restricted MINDEF land. Remains of the power house have been found of this three Mark X 9.2-Inch Guns on 35° Mountings.
12. Buona Vista Battery
- Significant remains. Incompletely charted.
- Site accessibility restricted.
Located east of the junction of Clementi Road and Ulu Pandan Road within the Police Training Camp. This battery had two Mark II 15-Inch Guns and only parts of the underground complex of the No.1 Gun remain.
13. Johore Battery
- Significant remains. Incompletely charted.
- Site accessibility partially open, partially restricted.
Three gun emplacements located along Cosford Road. The No. 1 Gun was reconstructed with a 15 Inch Gun replica. The magazine is intact below and behind the replica. The magazine of the No. 2 gun may also remain but is within Prison Service land while the No. 3 Gun emplacement was totally destroyed during the Changi Airport expansions.
14. Fort Canning, 1859
1867 Battery 7 x 68 PR Guns, 8 x 8 inch Guns, 2 x 13 inch Mortars, unknown number of 14 PR Carronades
1892 RA Gunner strength: 15
- Significant remains. Well charted.
- Site accessibility open.
Situated in downtown Singapore. Well documented and made into a tourist attraction.
15. Fort Tanjong Katong, 1878-1910
1888 Battery 2 x 8 inch Armstrong Guns
1892 RA Gunner Strength: 30
- Significant remains. Incompletely charted.
- Site accessibility open.
Situated at Katong Park. The walls of the fort are below ground with a children's playground above the central fort area.
16. Fort Connaught, 1878/79-1941
1885 2 x 9.2 inch BL Guns, 3 x 7 inch ML Guns
1892 RA Gunner Strength: 44
- Significant remains. Not well charted.
- Site accessibility restricted.
Located on Sentosa Golf Course.
17. Fort Serapong, 1885-1941
1892 2 x 9.2 inch BL Guns
1900? 1 x Mark X 9.2 inch Gun, 2 x 9.2 inch BL Guns
1930? 2 x Mark VII 6 inch BL Guns, 2 x 9.2 inch BL Guns
1892 RA Gunner Strength: 36
- Significant remains. Well charted.
- Site accessibility restricted.
Located on Sentosa's Serapong hill overlooking the Serapong Golf Course. Fort in relatively bad condition. Recommendations have been made to Sentosa Corp to seal the entrances from entry by adventure seekers.
18. Fort Siloso, 1878/79-1941
1885 1 x 9.2 inch BL Guns, 2 x 7 inch RML Guns, 2 x 64 PR ML Guns
1892 RA Gunner strength: 18
- Significant remains. Well charted.
- Site accessibility open with limitations.
Located on the western tip of Sentosa. Made into a tourist attraction and is probably the best preserved fort in Singapore.
19. Mount Imbiah Battery
- Significant remains. Well charted.
- Site accessibility open.
Located on Sentosa near to Fort Siloso. Easily accessible via a short hike up Mount Imbiah. Built in the early 20th Century and mounted with a Mark X 9.2-Inch BL Gun Battery.
20. Pulau Hantu
- No remains.
- Site accessibility non-existent.
Located on the southern island of Pulau Hantu. Was mounted with an 18 Pounder gun.
21. Berhala Reping
- Significant remains. Incompletely charted.
- Site accessibility restricted.
Located on a small island that has since been reclaimed into part of the Serapong Golf Course. Originally armed with machine guns and upgraded to two Twin 6 Pounders during WW2. Underground areas are sealed.
22. Changi Outer
- No remains.
- Site accessibility restricted.
Located close to the Beting Kusah Battery. This two twin 6 Pounder Battery no longer exists and the area is now currently under Changi Airport.
23. Changi Inner
- Significant remains. Incompletely charted.
- Site accessibility open with limitations.
Located on the south side of Changi Creek opposite the tip of Changi spit. Built for two Twin 6 Pounders but was never armed. Portions of the emplacement can still be found near the swimming pool.
24. Pulau Ubin
- Significant remains. Incompletely charted.
- Site accessibility open.
Located at the Scout Camp on the northern side of the island. Built for a Twin 6 Pounder, but was never armed.
25. Pulau Sejahat
- Significant remains. Incompletely charted.
- Site accessibility restricted.
Located on Pulau Sejahat which has been joined to Pulau Tekong by land reclamation works. Substantial remains of this emplacement exists which was armed with two Twin 6 Pounders.
26 Calder Harbour
- Significant remains. Incompletely charted.
- Site accessibility restricted.
Located on the eastern side of Pulau Tekong. Substantial remains of this two Twin Six Pounder Battery exist.
27. Ladang
- Significant remains. Well charted.
- Site accessibility restricted.
Located near the military jetty on Pulau Tekong. Was armed with a single 12 Pounder. Substantial remains well preserved.
28. Loudon
- Unknown remains. Incompletely charted.
- Site accessibility unknown.
Located in the Singapore harbour eastern entrance, the Loudon was one of many hulks sunk to form a block. Mounted with a single 6 Pounder QF Gun. Current location of the Loudon is unknown.
29. The Mole
- Unknown remains. Incompletely charted.
- Site accessibility unknown.
The exact location of the gun on the Mole is unknown. Mounted with a single 6 Pounder QF.
30. Siloso Point
- Significant remains. Well charted.
- Site accessibility open with limitations.
Located on Sentosa Island Siloso Point with a replica 12 Pounder mounted.. Originally armed with a single 12 Pounder and re-armed with a Twin 6 Pounder after WW2.
31. Fort Pasir Panjang, 1878-1941
1885 Battery 2 x 9.2 inch BL Guns, 2 x 64 PR ML Guns
1892 Rebuilt, Battery 2 x 7 inch ML Guns, 2 x 6 inch RBL Guns, 2 x 9.2 inch RBL Guns
1892 RA Gunner strength: 34
- Significant remains. Well charted.
- Site accessibility open with limitations.
Located at Labrador Park, opposite the Sentosa Island Siloso Point, it served to guard western harbour entrance. It was operational by 1889 and mounted 9.2-Inch and 6-Inch Batteries. Made into a tourist attraction.
See http://kmleong.multiply.com/photos/album/60 for more information
Project - Singapore's History Investigated - Fort Palmer
Anyone else keen on joining me please feel free to do so. Each of the sites will comprise mini-projects of their own, and will come in two phases;
1. research phase:- where we collect data and information on what, who and most importantly where they are located
2. investigation phase:- we suit-up, arm ourselves with cameras and lots of mosquito repellent and GO (if possible)
**********************
Fort Palmer
The present site of Foot Tet Soo Khek Temple on Palmer Road (formerly Palmer Battery Road), sits at the foot of remnants of Mount Palmer where a former colonial military fortification (Fort Palmer c.1859-1915) was once sited. The temple is believed to be one of the earliest Chinese immigrant temples established in Singapore and is certainly the oldest Hakka institution on the island. Unverified anecdotal accounts claim the temple to pre-date the arrival of Raffles. The existing structure dates back to the mid 19th century, and the earliest known record of the temple was depicted in a 1844 map as a "Joss House".19th century maps also indicated that the several village settlements are in the immediate vicinity of the temple. Tanjong Malang and Tanjong Pagar are the southeastern most prominent spits between Keppel Harbor and the main roadway off Singapore town. The channel into Keppel Harbor from the Tanjong Malang promontory has long been employed by local and Southeast Asian vessels prior to the arrive of the British, and it is possible that earlier coastal settlements are located on the former shoreline.
Named after John Palmer (b.1766 - d.1836), a merchant from Calcutta who had purchased the hill and its surrounding area, the hill was the first to have a small bungalow at its peak in the 1820s. Palmer was also known as the founder of the Indian Mechantile Community and had set up his own firm, Palmer and Co. On 1 January 1827, Robert Hardie obtained a 999-year lease from the Secretary of State for British India, for that parcel of land. In that same year, John Palmer's Company went bankrupt due to his generousity and inability to refuse loans of money to his friends, so he sold a portion of the hill to a Parsi who turned it into a Parsi burial ground in 1828. Forty years later, on 23 May 1867, Robert Hardie sold it for $6,000 to Hoo Ah Kay, Parsick Joachim and Cursetjee Pestonjee Lalla, as tenants in common and not as joint tenants. Not long after, on 12 May 1867, C.P. Lalla sold his share to Hoo Ah Kay and Parsick Joachim as tenants in common for $2,750.
From June 1827, Mount Palmer had already been singled out as a fortification, part of a chain of batteries to protect the town and east coast from attack by sea. In 1855, at the southern end of the hill, the government proceeded with its plans to build the Mount Palmer Defence Battery.
A gun battery existed on the slopes of Mount Palmer from c. 1859, guarding the eastern approaches to the New Harbour, and by 1870s the battery may have became derelict. In the early 1870s, suggestions were raised on possible removal of the hill as it was obstructing access to the town. The government decided to construct a road from Collyer Quay (through Robinson and Anson Roads, and later Keppel Road) to the docks and for this purpose, some Mount Palmer land was purchased by the Tanjong Pagar Dock Company, from Hoo Ah Kay in 1872, and the trustees of Parsick Joachim on 17 January 1878. Also in 1878, there were fears of a war with Russia, and, on the recommendation of the Colonial Engineer and Governor Sir William Robinson, it was decided to reconstitute the defence works on Mt. Palmer.
A second lease of life came about for Fort Palmer in the late 1870s when defenses of Singapore were improved and a series of fortifications were constructed at Pasir Panjang, Blakang Mati, Pulau Brani, and Tanjong Katong. In 1888 a major war gaming exercise took place at the foot of Mount Palmer and the beaches of Telok Ayer and Tanjong Malang with the landing of some 500 troops along with field artillery pieces from HMS Firebrand. This is to the addition of some 200 soldiers role playing the defending army at Fort Palmer. Some time between 1905 and 1915, Fort Palmer was demolished along with the bulk of the hill, becoming filling for the second Telok Ayer reclamation project. Fort Palmer was the last military installation to be removed from Tanjong Pagar, and the entire Mount Palmer except for a minor remnant which can still be seen today just off Palmer Road, was eventually leveled to fill and reclaim swamp land.
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Two 10-Inch BL Guns were mounted at Fort Palmer
Tuesday, 3 April 2007
Project - Singapore's History Investigated - Tanjong Katong Fort
This is one of a series of relatively unknown historical sites in Singapore from both colonial and pre-colonial eras which I intend to research and then physically investigate just for the heck of it. I'll keep adding more sites under this heading as I find more interesting stuff to investigate/research.Anyone else keen on joining me please feel free to do so. Each of the sites will comprise mini-projects of their own, and will come in two phases;
1. research phase:- where we collect data and information on what, who and most importantly where they are located
2. investigation phase:- we suit-up, arm ourselves with cameras and lots of mosquito repellent and GO (if possible)
**********************
Tanjong Katong Fort
(extracted from spi.com.sg)
The Tanjong Katong Fort, as one of Singapore's oldest, 19th century colonial fort now is bearing the risk of being forgotten again. For this unique Singapore's only 'true fort', the authorities adopted a 'wait-and-see' approach in order to determine further plans to excavate it or leave it alone.
According to historical research, this fort has already been buried deliberately during the 127 years of its history. It was built in 1879 by the British to fortify the south-eastern sea shore from potential Russian invaders with firing cannons and guns.
However, the first burial of the fort took place when it was later abandoned in 1901 after the WW1 was over and the Russian threat diminished. One simple way the British thought of preserving it is by burying it under the soil. It costs less and thought to be a better approach than destroying it given its large size.
The burial was a good job but. May be it was done in a hurry, some part was not totally and deeply covered. A small bastion stuck out above ground in the late 1960s. That was when at almost the same time land reclamation in the East Coast took place. And the Katong Park as in today was built on top of the fort.
It was in year 2001, a resident reported that he found some rocks there but they were not like rocks. The seemingly concrete area where the grass cannot grow on top resembles a part of a much larger structure. It was indeed the 6000 square meter fort sleeping underneath.
MJChow, a SPI Elite member said he has already noticed this strange looking 'concrete' characteristic since his childhood days in 1970's (that is 30 years before this person). He even saw park-keepers used it conveniently as a burning area for grass, branches and leaves after their routine park cleaning. Also another clue of its existence is by the name Fort Road just nearby.
It was until year 2001, public attention was brought to a possible huge fort lying underneath Katong park. Some years elapsed, and in year 2004, the Mountbatten Citizens Consultative Committee (CCC) commissioned the archaeological digging that lasted for 10 months. $200,000 was raised for this excavation project. But after the 10 months, no further plan was made in the next phase on what to do with it. Mr. Jack Sim, president of the Restroom Association of Singapore commented that "They go to all the trouble to dig it up and then instead of making some kind of monument out of it, they put everything back."
Mr Lim Chen Sian, the archaeologist who led the dig, said his team had only been asked by the committee to find out how much of the fort was still there. Chen said, "We didn't know who was going to take over for the next phase, so we thought the safest thing was to bury it back." This technique is called "Backfilling" which is a common practice in archaeology to protect finds.
The second burial is necessary when excavation were to be paused, because the dug-out pits could breed mosquitoes. Also the pit holes as deep as 2 meters, can get someone injured if he falls onto it. But it was questioned that how can someone fall into the pit when that area is well barricaded with solid railings?
A spokesman for the Preservation of Monuments Board confirmed that it was deciding whether the fort can be declared a national monument. But this is not as simple as it sounds. There is the matter of balancing historical value against the income that the site can earn if it were developed for other uses. National Heritage Society president Kevin Tan said: 'No one knows whose responsibility this fort is. No one is going to come forward and be a hero.'
Before so, here is some documentation on the significant findings about the fort that is one of Singapore's most important archaeological finds. Experts call it Singapore's only 'true fort' - one with protection all around. In its heyday, Fort Tanjong Katong was completely surrounded by a moat. Others here were simpler gun installations.
The fort is also the only one in Singapore to reflect 19th-century military architecture. Other forts like Fort Siloso in Sentosa and Fort Canning were built around the same time, but were upgraded at points in their history. Fort Tanjong Katong, on the other hand, was built but never used and therefore did not see any alterations.
Fort Tanjong Katong has another claim: It is one of the most complete forts found. The perimeter wall is intact, unlike Fort Canning, where all that is left is a gate and a bit of wall.
Project - Singapore's History Investigated - Pulau Sejahat
This is one of a series of relatively unknown historical sites in Singapore from both colonial and pre-colonial eras which I intend to research and then physically investigate just for the heck of it. I'll keep adding more sites under this heading as I find more interesting stuff to investigate/research.Anyone else keen on joining me please feel free to do so. Each of the sites will comprise mini-projects of their own, and will come in two phases;
1. research phase:- where we collect data and information on what, who and most importantly where they are located
2. investigation phase:- we suit-up, arm ourselves with cameras and lots of mosquito repellent and GO (if possible)
**********************
Pulau Sejahat
(extracted from spi.com.sg)
Pulau Sejahat is a small island about 1.2 ha located off the north-eastern coast of Singapore, near Pulau Tekong. Disused barracks, kitchens, gun emplacements and lookout posts still exist on the island. This island was possibly part of the integral defense of the Johore Straits when Singapore was a British Colony. It is located within the stretch of waters between Pulau Tekong and Changi Jetty.
Nowadays, disused barracks, kitchens, toilets, a watchtower and even gun battery positions still exist on the island.
One intriguing legend about this Pulau Sejahat is the mysterious rock on top of the hill, some called it holy. The locals believe that, a spirit lives inside
Who is this spirit? Where did he come from? It is said that in the 19th century on Tekong Island, that was a man with beard, slim built, fine features, rowing a small boat from Pulau Sejahat everyday. The islander saw him a number of times and they became suspicious and followed him. They followed him to Pulau Sejahat but each time they could not find a trace of him. There was no building on the island but only a rock.
The name Sejahat, simply means 'bad'. Why would such a small island be named so? That is because many deaths took place there despite the tiny size of the island.
There were hidden corals under the water around there. So, Pulau Sejahat was also considered as "dangerous zone" for boats. Many ships sunk, in the past century. The little island was said to be a pirates' hideout. The pirates ambushed the pass-by merchant ships and slaughtered countless victims on the island. Fear was implanted on everyone's mind.
In addition to that, there was a legend that in mid-14th century, Acehnese and Portugese were at war around Tekong Island. The Acehnese had 500 warships and over 10,000 warriors. The Portugese only had a feet of 20 ships or so, but equipped with lethal firearms and canons. Fierce and bloody battles took place right at the water near Tekong and Sejahat islands. Ships were blasted under fire; warriors were either drown or killed in action.
Soon, the Acehnese troop was almost totally wiped out. They were outnumbered by the Portugese near the end of the battle. The Acehnese fought till the last company but they refused to surrender. Rather than being the captives, they landed on the Sejahat island when being cornered by the Portugese army. Under the command of their general (commander), all of the last men committed heroic suicide on the island.
It was believed that that spirit could be the general. To have peace in the area the residents of Pulau Tekong built a shrine sheltering the spirit rock that they worshipped and honoured the general for his bravery.
http://www.larkin.net.au/pulau_sejahat/
Sadly, Pulau Sejahat is now part of Pulau Tekong and is currently out of bounds to the public and plans are underway to demolish the structures and the tua peh kong big stone altar.
Monday, 2 April 2007
Project - Singapore's History Investigated - Syonan Jinja
This is one of a series of relatively unknown historical sites in Singapore from both colonial and pre-colonial eras which I intend to research and then physically investigate just for the heck of it. I'll keep adding more sites under this heading as I find more interesting stuff to investigate/research.Anyone else keen on joining me please feel free to do so. Each of the sites will comprise mini-projects of their own, and will come in two phases;
1. research phase:- where we collect data and information on what, who and most importantly where they are located.
2. investigation phase:- we suit-up, arm ourselves with cameras and lots of mosquito repellent and GO (if possible)
***************
Syonan Jinja
(extracted from spi.com.sg)
Buried in the dense jungle of the MacRitchie Catchment Area are
the ruins of Syonan Jinja, a Japanese Shinto Shrine dating back to
World War II. Built to commemorate Japanese soldiers who died
fighting in the invasion of Singapore, Syonan Jinja was the
location of many Japanese religious and cultural ceremonies. The
original structure, built during the Japanese Occupation
(1942-1945), was a temple with no walls. Raised from the ground by
a stone platform graduated with a few steps, the sloping temple
roof rested on pillars that stood at regular intervals round the
perimeter of the platform. It is believed that during rituals, worshippers would drink from a huge granite ceremonial fountain located outside the shrine.
A Shinto ceremony took place here every New Year's Day for the few
years that the shrine existed. This was marked by the sounding of
the temple bell, the arrival of devotees and the presence of a
Shinto priest presiding over rituals. After the proceedings were
completed here, the worshippers moved on for a second ceremony at
Syonan Chureito, a war memorial for the Japanese soldiers, located
at Bukit Batok.
Syonan Jinja was destroyed when the Japanese Occupation ended in
1945. Crumbling granite steps that once led to the shrine are
visible, as well as the stone fountain. Of the temple building
itself, there is a low stone wall that runs one length of the building and several square pits in the ground that probably once supported pillars.
Today, remnants of the shrine are covered by jungle vegetation. As
it is no longer accessible, Syonan Jinja is best seen through old
photographs and drawings by Japanese military as well as the POWs who helped build the shrine.
MacRitchie Reservoir Once Had a Shrine
(Source by Chan Kwee Sung, Straits Times)
When I came to Singapore in the mid-1980's, one of my first runs
led around MacRitchie Reservoir and through the ruins of the
Japanese "Temple", actually the Syonan Jinja Shrine. For years,
perhaps, the only group in Singapore who knew this location was
the hash. As you can see in the photo (Straits Times, 22 may
1999), the fountain made from a massive granite boulder is still
there.
The article seems to imply that worshipers drank from this
with a wooden ladle, although visiting Japanese hashers who have
seen the site have told me that this particular relic was used for
washing one's hands prior to entering the shrine. The long climb
on the granite steps is still there, and the track from the shrine
back to the Bukit Kallang Covered Reservoir behind the SICC North
Clubhouse is still passable, although a couple of detours have to
be made due to fallen trees and other obstructions. This is a bit
of Singapore history that you can visit, but heed this word of
caution: Do not attempt to find this on your own. There is
waist-deep water to cross and many opportunities to get
disoriented and lost in the MacRitchie Catchment Area.
Several
experienced hashers, whom I know personally, have spent the night
in the Catchment Area among the various snakes, scorpions, biting
spiders and millions of mosquitoes, and none of them want to do it
again. I have seen grown men weep upon finally getting out of the
jungle the next morning.
Syonan Jinja Shrine recalled a small part of Singapore and a short
period of its history. The shrine has remained unknown to many who
did not experience the ravages of World War II when Japan occupied
Singapore for three and a half years.
Syonan Jinja could be said to be a replica of the now
controversial Yasukuni Shrine in Japan that houses departed
spirits of soldiers who were killed before the Allies brought that
country's war machine to a halt in 1945.
The Japanese built the shrine in Singapore in a secluded but
exceedingly picturesque spot by MacRitchie Reservoir.
Its distinctive temple architecture conveyed peace and tranquility
in a setting that was pleasurably augmented by a forest of trees,
the twittering of birds and the captivating expanse of the blue
water of the reservoir itself.
They erected a separate memorial named Chureito on Bukit Batok in
honour of soldiers killed trying to capture Singapore.
Behind this monolithic memorial was a stone cross that was set up
to honour the fallen defenders as well.
A long flight of steps led up the hill to the Chureito and New
Year's Day for three successive years, almost all Japanese in
Singapore, and Singaporeans and others living here who were
obligated to do so, would make their way to the summit and take
obeisance there.
On Jan 1, a national holiday for the Japanese, celebrants and
worshippers would make the first trip to the Jinja where its
serenity would discreetly be broken by the resonance of the temple
bell.
A Shinto priest in ceremonial robes conducted the rituals while
arriving worshippers would doff their footwear before progressing
into the temple.
A fountain of cool, clear water bubbled on the threshold of the
temple and every worshipper would partake of this refreshing drink
from a long-handled ladle placed beside it.
A second trip was then made to the Chureito to pay respects to
Imperial Japanese Army casualties.
Here the Japanese ignored the dwarfish memorial to the Allied
dead; only the least timid of the civilians present would accord
it a surreptitious look.
When the war ended, the Chureito was promptly destroyed by the
returning British and the existence of the Syonan Jinja was just
as effectively obliterated.
As the years went by, all traces of the shrine - mainly its
foundation and stone steps of access - was overwhelmed by jungle
growth.
The Jinja's past was revealed when the production team of the
Television Corporation of Singapore took pains to find it for its
TV series Hey Singapore.
No trace of the Chureito remained either as Bukit Batok has
undergone massive redevelopment that incurred the removal of the
hilltop, reached by a long flight of steps.
the jungle surrounding MacRitchie Reservoir, has been marked as a
historic site by the National Heritage Board (NHB) - Straits Times
17 Sep 2002
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