食得愉快, 跑得越快

The theme, in Chinese, for this year's Standard Chartered Hong Kong Marathon is 從 心 出 發, 跑 出 信 念. It can be loosely translated as run from the heart to find your faith. The English theme, however, sounds much simpler - Run For A Reason. Now, why the English theme is not a direct translation of the Chinese version or vice versa is beyond me. I'm reminded of some Hong Kong drama series where the English translation of the Chinese title doesn't make any sense. And laughable too, sometimes. Confused and dissatisfied, I decided to create my own theme for the SCHKM2012. It should revolve around food and of course, running. While walking around Sham Shui Po after having 2 satisfying meals to celebrate the completion of my first SCHKM with a new personal record, I came up with this - 食得愉快, 跑得越快 or eat enjoyably to run faster.

食得愉快. Indeed, I had a great time savouring local delights that I missed (or was unaware of) the last time I visited Hong Kong. That was 7 years ago. During the last 2 days prior to the marathon, I'd eaten so much that I had to make a toilet stop around the 26th -27th km of the race. That caused me to lose about 5 minutes, which may be the main reason why I missed the sub 4-hour mark (by just 52 seconds, by the way). But that's alright. I wouldn't trade the trail of good food for that mere 52 seconds, or more.

Ho Hung Kee, Causeway Bay (何洪記, 銅鑼灣)

I was at this decades-old restaurant for the stir-fried rice noodles with beef, not knowing that Ho Hung Kee is more well-known for their congee. In the end, I ordered both. The large plate of fried noodles glistened under the dim yellow light. It was oily but only to provide a nice aroma that complemented the smooth strands of rice noodles and beef. It'd be a waste if this was not eaten with the mildly hot, tangy chilli sauce. I must have finished half a jar of the sauce. Besides the noodles, there was also a sizeable bowl of congee waiting to be tried. I don't think many will order that much for 1 person. So, it's only natural that I'd attracted unnecessary attention from the other customers. The fact that I was seated at the center of this tiny shoplot didn't help much to conceal the glutton in me. So, it was my responsibility to put up a good show by finishing both dishes. It wasn't difficult, especially when the slices of pork liver and cuts of fallopian tube were absolutely slithery and springy, and the Cantonese congee itself being refined and just slightly starchy.

Lok Yuen Beef Ball King, Mong Kok (樂園牛丸大王, 旺角花園街)

Apparently, the unforgettable ping-pong beef balls featured in Stephen Chow's God of Cookery were inspired by Lok Yuen's beef balls. I don't know if that's true but since the shop was just a 5 minutes walk from my hostel (and that I'm a big fan of that movie - I'd watched that 4 times in the cinema!), I'd decided to give it a try. The variety of meatballs on the menu was impressive and being a first-timer at Lok Yuen, I thought it'd be good to order the 4 Treasures Bowl, as it has a bit of everything from the menu. Unlike the movie, there was no squirting of superior soup or juice when I took a bite of the ball. And surprisingly, despite all the interesting variations, it was the simple black pepper beef ball that I found most flavourful.

18 GRAMS

It was my lunar birthday. Being half Hakka, I was ordered to consume 2 eggs that day, to symbolize the passing of another year of existence, be it good or bad. This ritual is easily practiced back home, where cooked eggs can be bought everywhere - nasi lemak/mixed rice stalls, coffeeshops, etc. But what about Hong Kong? I thought the steaming herbal egg was the most convenient option but the higher authority wasn't pleased, perhaps thinking that herbs are associated with medicine and that's inauspicious. A quick search on the internet (keywords used - egg, hong kong) led me to an actively branching cafe called 18 Grams. Their signature dish - eggs benedict. Perfect. Usually, I would just eat any 2 tasteless eggs to fulfill the requirement but this time, I'd totally enjoyed my lunar birthday eggs. The components matched one another really well - lightly vinegar-ed creamy hollandaise sauce, runny yolks, garlic-perfumed sauteed spinach and thick ham slices on a toasted pillow-soft muffin. What a fantastic start to my final carbo-loading day here in Hong Kong.

Mak An Kee Noodle, Wing Kut Street, Central (麥奀記 (忠記) 麵家, 中環永吉街)

Since it was just a day away from the race, I thought I should take it easy and spent the afternoon strolling along Des Voeux Road, starting from Sheung Wan MTR towards Central. There were many narrow but densely populated lanes along the way. As I passed Wing Kut Street, I noticed a group of people standing outside a tiny restaurant. It was Mak's, the popular wanton noodle house. This may not be the main shop or under the same management (due to family feud), but this serendipity should be celebrated. It was the most fundamental (and smallest) bowl of wanton mee I've ever had. Accessorized with just a few strands of yellow chive leaves and some juicy wantons, this was, to me, the best way to showcase the springy egg noodles and umami broth.

Chong Kee, Gilman's Bazaar, Central (忠記粥品, 中環機利文新街)

In the end, the strolling plan failed. I should have known that Des Voeux Road is the artery of Central Hong Kong and that it links to many interesting places on the northern side of the island. Diverting to one of the busiest lanes, I found myself walking towards the mid-levels escalators. If not for the malfunctioned set of escalators nearing the peak, I would have wanted to go on until the end, despite the quieter surrounding, just to see where it would lead me to. I descended the mid-levels via a different route. It was bustling and steep, with old grocery shops and wet markets lined along the way. For me, this was exemplary of the entrepreneurial spirit of Hong Kong. Returning to the low-level and after crossing Queen's Road, I was now at Gilman's Bazaar, which is not too far from Mak's. It was time for another round of carbo-loading. I entered Chong Kee and had some fried rice vermicelli and cheong fun. There were a few bottles of different sauces on the table and I chose to squeeze some peanut (or sesame) sauce onto the vermicelli. The combination tasted wonderful! Who would have thought? Another thing that I'd realized during this trip was that the taste of rice is very much prevalent in Hong Kong's cheong fun. Perhaps the ingredients used are different (less starch, more rice?) and for the better, provided a melting texture.

Random shop along Fa Yuen Street

I decided to cap off the carbo-loading day with some rice. This shop may not be a household name along the busy Fa Yuen Street, but it offered what I needed. Plus, I didn't have to queue to get a seat. This steamed rice with pork dinner, drizzled with some soy sauce, was quite good, actually. Then, it was time to rest. The race would start in less than 10 hours.

Lau Sum Kee Noodle, Sham Shui Po (劉森記麵家, 深水埗)

My first, proper post-marathon meal. I thought it'll be interesting to skip the usual Mongkok-Tsim Tsa Tsui-Central-Causeway Bay belt and explore a new area instead. Sham Shui Po was a good option, as it was not too far from Mongkok and filled with restaurants (including one that offers snake soup), and even more wholesalers. There's also a night market near the MTR exit; just as crowded as Ladies' Market. I came to Lau Sum Kee to try their dry-tossed egg noodle that is sprinkled with dried shrimp roe, with stewed beef brisket. The smoky aroma of the roe was unique, but it was the spontaneous choice of topping, the brisket, that was the highlight of my visit. The soft pieces of meat came with tendons too and the dense, sweet/savoury brown sauce was very tantalizing. I wanted more!

Wai Kee Noodle Cafe, Sham Shui Po (維記咖啡粉麵, 深水埗)

Hong Kong, like Japan, is single diner-friendly. One can, at any time, share a partially occupied table. At Wai Kee, I'd shared a round table with 2 families and 1 couple. How cool is that? This coffeeshop is insanely crowded. They own a few shops along Pei Ho Street and there's perpetually a queue outside every shop! Even Donald Tsang dines here. The menu written on the wall was extensive but mechanical - basically a mix and match of ingredients. I had instant noodle with beef and ham, toast and milk tea, the quintessential char chan teng fare. Generally, I'll shun such places because I don't find DIY-able food at an inflated price appealing. But I liked Wai Kee. Their noodle dish was comforting. The broth was light but flavourful (the result of sufficient simmering and ingredients used), despite the unattractive, unsifted residual. If only our local char chan tengs can be just as good as Wai Kee.

Sheung Wan Cooked Food Center

Dim sum wasn't on my list this time. There were just too many new things to try. It was the last day of the trip and just an hour before I splurged on one of the most expensive lunches I'd ever had. Walking around Sheung Wan to hunt for dried scallops and oysters, I stumbled upon a Cooked Food Center. A familiar sight in Singapore, but a first for me, here in Hong Kong. I had to explore this building. The food center is placed above a wet market and surprisingly, air-conditioned. Many stalls remained closed (it was only 10 am in the morning) but those that were opened enjoyed brisk business. A stall selling Chiu Chow dishes was especially crowded. Men in safety boots and uniform were picking their dishes, carrying a mountainous bowl of white rice in hand. I would have joined in the queue if not for the planned lunch date. Dim sum seemed like the best option as it was the least filling, so I went ahead and pointed to a few bamboo steamers at the adjacent stall. The stallkeeper advised me to keep my order minimal, or else the dim sums would turn cold before consumption. What a different dim sum culture they have! Back home, we would order as much as we could and yes, leaving them cold and dry on the table. This is just a typical stall in the food center and there were not many customers around. But the beef balls (one of my favourite dim sums) were as fresh and sweet as the ones I had in a Hong Kong hotel. Also, the balls were served with a pouring of black vinegar which brought an interesting dimension to the meatballs. Having delicious, steaming dim sum at an unhurried pace, this was an enjoyable yum cha session I've not had in a very long time.

Standard Chartered Hong Kong Marathon 2012

Two weeks ago, when I slipped my left foot into the work shoe after a 20 km run, my sole felt sore. It was bad enough to keep me agitated throughout the day. I convinced myself that the pain was temporary, like how my thighs would strain or ankles sprained after a long run, and that they would self-heal in a matter of days. By the following week, which was only 6 days to the Standard Chartered Hong Kong Marathon, the pain worsened. I tried every common treatment that I could think of - including icing the foot. The numbness caused by the cold did temporarily hide the pain but would return to haunt me the next morning. It was depressing waking up to this. Despite the pain, I still managed to complete the obligatory pre-marathon long distance run, 4 days before the race. The pain was most excruciating in the final 10 km. Maybe it was the new pair of insoles that somehow changed my pronation and caused the pressurized ligament to inflame or tear. It could also be caused by my new lightweight racers, since there were less cushioning. Or that I’d simply overtrained this month, in preparation for my first Hong Kong Marathon. In January, I’d upped my running mileage to 322 km (that’s about 10 km daily), which might have been more than my body could handle. But there were no signs of resistance, so I assumed that it was already adapting to longer, more frequent runs. How unfortunate that it had to happen now, at the time when I was in the final preparation stage for my first marathon abroad.

I’d kept the injury to myself because at that point, I thought no one would be able to help. And it was too minor (and expensive) to seek professional help. On one of the tapering days, as I filled a pail of water with ice, XLB asked if I was going to soak my clothes in it. I explained that it was to dip my injured foot. She then asked if I had plantar fasciitis (an inflammation near the heel area) and shared her experience on this condition, which really did put my injury into perspective. Perhaps I did inflame my plantar fascia, given some of the symptoms that she’d described. Her miraculous Korean plaster had significantly minimized the pain for a whole day. But I knew that it wasn’t the best long-term solution. The next day, I tried scanning as many websites and forums as I could on plantar fasciitis and its treatment, mostly in form of physiotherapy. In the next 2 days before departing for Hong Kong, I began a set of self-treatment – taping, stretching, rolling, wearing heel cups, etc. The technique of holding/releasing a towel with my toes was rather effective. The pain had gradually reduced. At night, I would tape my left foot to restrain movement and prevent it from drooping when I sleep.

By the time I boarded the plane to Hong Kong, I was still unsure if I could complete the race. The pain on my left foot had subsided, but when I start pounding the pavement on Sunday, the inflammation may return and for worse, tear completely whatever that’s left of my plantar fascia. But it was too late to pull out now. I just had to be more cautious on race day.

Arriving on Friday afternoon, I proceeded to Victoria Park at Causeway Bay to collect my race pack. It's always the same for me - seeing my name printed on the runner's tag heightens the excitement that will follow me to the starting line. That made me forget about the injury for a while.

It was 12 hours before the race and I began to pack the essentials into the recyclable race bag. As I tied the timing chip to my shoe, I was contemplating on removing the insoles that I'd suspected of causing the injury and replaced them with the GT-2160's (which I'd just bought from Sogo Causeway Bay at an amazingly low price). I tried walking in them around Mongkok that night. My left foot felt more comfortable now but I reminded myself that this new combination of insoles and shoes was untried. In the end, I'd decided to take the risk.

Race day. I had a sound sleep the night before. Of course I did. I'd walked around Kowloon and Central for hours, only stopping for some good old local food. The feet were behaving rather well and that really lifted my spirit. The light shower was cooling and the temperature was around 16 deg C. It was the best weather condition that I'd ever had on any given race day so far.

At the waiting pane, the paparazzi were surrounding one of the full marathoners - not an elite runner but local celebrity, Edison Chen. I think he was running to raise fund for charity. For myself, I decided to participate in the Hong Kong Marathon after reading some very positive feedbacks on the organization and weather, and that it's only a 4-hour flight from Singapore. Since receiving the acceptance letter, I'd been looking forward to experiencing this world-class marathon that attracts many runners from this region. I'd also kept in mind the much discussed hilly, impeding terrain.

Starting from the 2nd km, we ascended about 70 m to reach the peak of the Stonecutter's Bridge before turning onto the iconic Tsing Ma Bridge. The next and last bridge to cross before returning to Kowloon was Ting Kau, the highest point of the race at an elevation of about 90 m. This trinity of bridges route made up almost half the marathon distance and many runners were seen struggling from one bridge to another, given the challenging elevations. Words of encouragement were exchanged (mostly in Cantonese) and I found that to be rather inspiring. Reaching the top of Ting Kau, I was still doing alright, with a painless left foot and regulated breathing.

According to the elevation chart, we should enjoy the descend from the top of the final bridge onwards, as we make our way back to the city. That was the reason I'd decided to channel my energy on the first half of the race, knowing that the last half would be relatively easier. But that was not the case. In general, the Cheung Tsing Tunnel - Tsing Kwai Higway - West Kowloon Highway - Western Harbour Tunnel route was a 90 m drop spanning 16 km, but the intermediate slopes at around the 29th, 31st and 33rd km added significant resistance to this second half of the race. Some runners would walk to rest before resuming to climb these slopes. The merging of the full and half marathon routes at the West Kowloon Highway, which caused a small congestion, was another obstacle to overcome. To say that I was not losing focus at that stretch would be a lie. I kept reciting a simple mantra in my mind to vacuum off the strain on every inch of my legs. And by the 32nd km, I'd turned on my MP3 player.

More stopped to stretch and apply ointment on their tired legs in the Western Harbour Tunnel. This is the tunnel that connects Kowloon to the Hong Kong island and in this course, the final stretch before running on the milder roads of Central. It was time to push the hardest.

Reaching the end of the tunnel, I KNEW the struggle was over as I'd studied the course elevation. The last 4 km would be easy, just like my usual morning runs, I told myself. The gel bars were still untouched. But right in front of me was a high flyover, filled with a sea of slowed runners. Was it my imagination? How was that possible? A closer look at the chart later revealed that there were indeed more erratic elevations leading to the finish line.

Back to the last 4 km. From my few experiences, I'd learnt that I should run at a constant pace in the final few kms, in order to not lose steam in the midst of the excitement and euphoria of being close to completing a marathon. So, I ran patiently, steadily, crossing one flyover after another, towards Victoria Park.

Rapturous supporters filled both sides of the route from Lockhard Road onwards. It's a sign that we were nearing the end of the race. The surrounding of classic shophouses and colourful signboards that fill many postcards of Hong Kong was beautiful. This was the moment that I'd been waiting for in the Hong Kong Marathon.

The finish line was about a hundred meters ahead. As I ran towards it, I started to recall the 2 weeks leading to this point, feeling ever grateful for this injury-free, enjoyable race.


I missed the sub 4-hour mark by 52 seconds but managed to achieve a new personal record by shedding about 28 minutes off my previous best timing at the Standard Chartered Marathon Singapore.

Rotorua - The Unofficial Final Stop

The Champagne Pool is one of the major attractions at Wai-O-Tapu Geothermal Wonderland, which is located near Rotorua. When I came across a photo of the multicoloured pool in the travel guide, I knew that I had to somehow include this in my compressed itinerary. So, just a day after visiting Milford Sound, I took the earliest flight back to the north island and drove about 300 km from Auckland, passing orchards and farms, to arrive at Rotorua on the same day. Just another mad, exciting day in New Zealand for me.

I could have driven through the quaint town of Rotorua to reach Wai-O-Tapu that late afternoon, as it was just over 20 km away. But I would only have a few hours to complete the trail and less time for photography. That wouldn't do justice to the wonderland. So, I decided to do that the next morning instead. I stayed in Rotorua for the night and managed to visit the beautifully restored Elizabethan museum of Rotorua, which used to be a bathhouse. Here, I'd learned quite a bit about Rotorua and the Maoris. The award-winning Polynesian Spa was just a few steps away, so I thought I should treat my worn body to a dip in the alkaline rock thermal pool. Sitting in the minerals-rich water, enjoying the serenity around the lake spa, with a pretty sunset view of Lake Rotorua and the cool breeze of late spring was most relaxing...until a large group of noisy tourists entered the compound. I ended the day with a dinner at the popular Capers Epicurean cafe. I had one of the day's specials - a creamy, citrus-scented dish of fettuccine with smoked salmon and prawns. It was a brilliant combination, I must say. So was the dessert of coconut and passion fruit cake crusted with almost flakes and served with a dollop of yoghurt. What an enjoyable night it was. Perhaps I should have more slow-paced, relaxing days like this when I'm on vacation ...... Nah.

The next morning, I reached Wai-O-Tapu just minutes before the doors were opened. Yes, I was really excited.

Walking around the living geothermal spot was like revisiting a science class. Though unpleasant, the first smell of hydrogen sulfide had me chuckling as I recalled the day when our science teacher, Mrs Yong, tricked us into inhaling that strange, resultant gas emitted from a test tube. The colours of the rocks represent the different compounds spewed from the earth's core. It's amazing how the deadly, violent movements of the earth had shaped such unique formation of pools, craters and geysers. They were magical. It's no wonder that they'd inspired the locals to christen them with imaginative names such as the Devil's Ink Pot, Artist's Palatte, Oyster Pool and Bridal Veil Falls.

It was nearing noon when I'd watched Lady Knox Geyser erupted and visited the nearby boiling Mud Pool. I had only a few more hours in Rotorua before driving back to Auckland. Tomorrow, I'd be returning to Singapore. There was only enough time, barely, to visit one more attraction in Rotorua. It was between a Maori village and the Waimangu Volcanic Valley.

Unlike Wai-O-Tapu, there was much less visitors at Waimangu. I’m guessing that it’s due to the more challenging trail, which may not attract certain groups of visitors. Eco-tourists, however, will fall in love with this relatively untouched, young geothermal valley. I had two hours to complete the easy-walking trail, in order for me to reach Auckland before nightfall. But I couldn’t resist the longer, tougher Mount Hazard trail. So, I had to move really fast.

Waimangu was a teaser. With every step of the trail, there’s something interesting that’s worth one’s attention. The climb to the top of the first hill was rewarded with a clear view of a black-water pool covered almost completely with red algae. Descending the hill, the ethereal Echo Crater and Frying Pan Lake await. The steam arising from the lake was such a spectacular fairyland-like sight. I wished to have spent more time here, to enjoy this view, but I was still far from the end of the trail. I had to move faster. The steep climb along the Mount Hazard trail is not fun – when one’s in a hurry. Patches of sweat began to appear on my shirt and I was gasping for breath as I’d reluctantly overtaken the slower climbers. But I was thankful for two things – my trusty pair of trekking shoes and good signage. There must be a reason for the creation of this difficult trail. Indeed, it’d led me to the steaming, azure Inferno Crater Lake. Seeing this beautiful lake for the first time was unforgettable. The vastness of the lake was not meant to be captured on my limited lens. So, instead of trying hard to get a good shot of the lake, I just stood there for awhile and enjoyed the view. The few German photographers standing next to me must have had better luck shooting the lake with their telescopic lens. Descending Mount Hazard to return to the main road was easy. I’d doubled my speed and finished the trail, passing the stunning Marble Terrace, Buttresses and Warbrick Terrace, within my targeted time. Waimangu was a living fantasy and it certainly looked better than in the guide books. I was glad that I’d chosen to come to here.

A collision of two sedans had slowed the traffic along the highway tremendously. It took me more than 4 hours to reach Auckland. The number of cars increased as I entered the city center. At the major shopping belt of Auckland where my hostel was located, neon signs and headlights filled the night. Streams of locals and tourists were gallivanting around the main streets. Restaurants and shops were buzzing. I had returned to familiar grounds.

Auckland was very different from the small towns that I’ve visited in the past 8 days. The noise and chaos made me miss the more peaceful and beautiful side of New Zealand. I returned to the hostel after having a hot bowl of chili from Wendy’s that kept me warm for a few hours. I decided to sleep earlier as I had to return the rental car before catching my flight back to Singapore the next morning. But before that, like every night throughout this vacation, I would lie in bed to recall and view all the beautiful sights of New Zealand on my camera’s LCD. The only difference was, tonight, I had no new adventure to look forward to the next morning. But I still slept with a big smile on my face as I reminded myself that I’d gained some incredible experiences in this journey across the land of the long white cloud - bungy jumping in Queenstown, walking on ice at Fox Glacier, cruising the majestic Milford Sound and living a fantasy at Wai-O-Tapu and Waimangu.

Here’s the link to my set of photos of New Zealand.

Surviving Queenstown

When you’re in the adventure capital of the world, you live it.

Sometimes, when travelling, the mind is best left at home. Until the day I jumped, I was still assessing the risks of this crazy thing called bungy jumping. It was disturbing and had affected the first two days of my holiday.

Returning from Fox Glacier, I made my way to the jump base, the Kawarau River Bridge. I was feeling a little nervous but excited at the same time. The radio was playing a string of ballads, which did nothing to pump up the excitement. In fact, it was rather annoying. I turned it off, but the silence encouraged negative thoughts. I drove faster.

At the base, I quickly made my way to the registration counter, paid the fee and headed straight for the jumping platform. The efficient staff got me strapped with a few harnesses in a matter of seconds, while a group of Japanese tourists looked on. They thought I was Japanese and gave me some encouragement. A few of them seemed worried. I stood up, hopped to the edge of the wooden platform and looked down. If not for the strong current, the beautiful emerald Kawarau River below would have calmed me a little. The late afternoon began to feel cold too, as the rain got heavier.

Almost immediately, the staff signaled for my jump. Dive well, bro, he said. It was time to take a leap of faith.

Much earlier before the jump, I’d decided on a Superman dive. But in the end, it turned out to be a typical, instinctive dive instead, which lacked style.

The first few seconds of the free fall were the best. I felt light; like one with the wind. It was surreal. This joy, this adrenaline rush was unexplainable. As I dipped into the river, the rubberized rope, upon reaching the limit of its stretch, contracted and I was pulled up slightly. The jump was over.

A boat rowed by to transport me to the river bank. From here, it was a long walk back to the jump base. I’d guessed that this distance was designed to help traumatized jumpers to relax and recover. I was just happily singing along the way, striking off another action item on my bucket list.

It was only when I’d watched another person jumping off the same platform that I realized what I’d done just minutes ago. Indeed, I’d left my mind, and acrophobia, in the car.

FergBurger is a fantastic place to fill the stomach after an adventurous day in Queenstown; provided one gets a seat, of course. The display of MTV-style sports programmes and upbeat music made the small restaurant cool and lively. But of course, it’s the long list of mouth-watering burgers accompanied by sides of fries and beer that makes FergBurger a must-try for every visitor to Queenstown.

I could have just ordered any other burger but decided to go all out for the biggest burger there was at Ferg’s. Afterall, that’s what living in the adventure capital of the world is all about, isn’t it? I'd like to think of it as my Man Versus Food moment.

It’s called the Big Al. I equated its monstrous size to 2 Big Macs. I wasn’t able to count the number of prime New Zealand beef patties in the burger but the menu stated a double serving. There were also layers and layers of fried bacon, cheese, beetroot, tomatoes, onions and lettuce. Extra flavours were provided by the generous amount of relish and aioli. Biting into the thick Big Al itself was a challenge. Then, I had to deal with the layers that kept falling out with every bite…because it’s just too much to handle. It’s interesting to have the egg yolk flowing out on one side of the burger and the pinkish beetroot/aioli mixture squirting from the other. It was a mess, a delicious mess of course. I’d returned a few days later to try the smartly named The Codfather; a burger that consists of beer-battered blue cod, dressed with dill tartar. The fried cod came exceptionally aromatic and paired wonderfully with the tartar sauce. It was perhaps the best fried cod I’ve ever had so far.

Just next to Ferg was a dessert bar called Lick. With an overstuffed stomach, I should have just walked pass the bar and continued on for a few miles more around Lake Wakatipu to help ease digestion. But instead, I stopped by for some gelato. I’m glad I did (sorry, stomach). I had two very smooth and refined scoops at Lick; boysenberry and feijoa flavours. In fact, I’ve never had mediocre gelatos or any dairy product in New Zealand.

It was only at night, when I laid in bed recollecting my day, that I realized how exhausted I was. It began with a 5-hour drive from Fox Glacier to Queenstown, followed by the bungy jump, an accidental visit to Arrowtown and window-shopping around central Queenstown. The next morning, I would be joining a day-tour to Milford Sound. The thought of taking the backseat for once was very much relaxing. I looked forward to the breathtaking fiorland, which was my final stop on the south island of Aotearoa.

Nakhon Kitchen

The thought of Nakhon Kitchen whets up my appetite easily. And I've only been there once.

When I order pineapple fried rice, I often (if not always) find myself asking - where's the taste of pineapple? It's usually just yellowed, dry (or oily, take a pick) rice stirred with prawns and green peas, and served in a halved, hollowed pineapple. Here, my first spoonful of rice came with a burst of sweet/sour juice from the pineapple cubes (be it canned or fresh) adding both taste and moistness. That's pineapple rice, literally. A good one at that.

I've learnt that the favourite meat among the female patrons here is not necessarily a dish, but for me, I've got my eyes set on the spicy minced pork with basil leaves. It's a simple stir-fry, perfumed with a handful of Thai basil leaves and sufficiently dressed in a mixture of savoury sauces. This is a dish that's compatible with any form of carbohydrate; rice, bread or noodles.

Perhaps it's the contrast between the colour of the plates and the food that....no, let me take that back. It's still their technique of the getting right fillet texture and the formulation of sauce that made the fried fish with sweet chilli sauce a winning dish. Of course, as mentioned, it was visually appetizing as well.

The small shoplot was atmospherically Thai; from the utensils to the decorations to the music. One can tell that the owner made an effort to impress the customers with these details. With food so good, that's not required. I think the neverending queue will agree.

Nakhon Kitchen
Blk 212, Hougang Street 21
#01-341
Singapore 530212

The Last and First

4 December 2011 (Standard Chartered Marathon Singapore)

Once again, I’d followed a high, good fats and potassium-rich diet of salmon, avocado and potatoes in preparation for race day.

I was stuck in the human jam along Orchard Road. Under the bright Christmas lights, I was bewildered, frustrated and upset. My pace was negligible. It was painful to look at my stopwatch. Come on, compressing 20,000 marathoners on the compact city roads has got to be a bad idea. And to have just 8 baggage deposit counters was an obvious sign of mismanagement. Still walk-running somewhere between South Bridge Road and Cecil Street (that's 4 km from the starting point), I had a thought that followed me a long, slow distance. Was I missing the point? Shouldn't I be enjoying the run instead of eagerly wanting to better my personal best time for a full marathon? NO! I didn't come untrained. I wanted to hit a new PB. I wanted to cap off this amazing year with a PB. My response made me even more upset. For me, this was the most anticipated run of 2011. After completing the 10 km and 21 km categories in 2009 and 2010 respectively, I'd plucked enough courage to challenge myself to run the marathon distance. The Putrajaya Night Marathon and months of training boosted my confidence further.

The human traffic eased towards the 8th km. So did my mind. Now, I decided, was the time to recover, to compensate for lost time. I began to accelerate.

By the 13th km, I'd entered East Coast Park - the longest stretch (about 20 km) of the full marathon course. Despite the narrow lanes, runners were more dispersed now. The 5-hour pacers were now in sight. I quickened my pace. As I overtook them, I was once again filled with optimism. Earlier disturbances were washed away with the endless flow of sweat. Observing my average pace, I estimated the time needed to reach the 4.30-hour pacers. It wouldn't take too long.

Indeed, I managed to catch up with the pacers and later, overtook them. To achieve a new PB, I must always stay ahead of them until I reach the finish line. As a bonus, the 4:15-hour pacers were not too far in front too!

Besides achieving a PB, I wanted to finish the race injury-free as well. However, I didn't manage to do any pre-race stretching due to the delay at the bag deposit counter. That got me worried. There was nothing that I could do, but to listen to my body with every stride.

At the 34th km, before crossing the bridge to Marina Barrage, I felt a prickle on my right inner thigh (there must be some Latin name for the specific muscle, I'm sure). It's the familiar sensation I get when I do longer runs. Sometimes, it would disappear but unfortunately, on that day, the pain worsened. Who would have thought that a tiny piece of cramped meat like that could affect one's performance? Well, it did. Running, from that point on, felt like driving a car with one locked wheel. I had no choice but to slow down, constantly and rhythmically swinging my right leg to reduce the pain. I gulped two packs of energy gels and had cups of isotonic drinks, hoping to level the amount of potassium in my body, which may (or may not) ease the cramp.

As I was thinking of ways to minimize the pain, I didn't realise that the 4:30-hour pacers had caught up with me. The sight of their bright yellow singlets and grey balloons was unwelcome and alarming. I can't let them overtake me, not at this point. Like a prey running for its life, I pushed on…hard. There was no turning back to check on the pacers or treating the thigh now. I just ran - up the Heartbreak bridge, zig-zagging through the congested Republic Boulevard (I had almost given up there) and struggled through the last 2 km to reach the finish line at the Padang. The pacers reached minutes later.

There was much to be celebrated that morning. Firstly, I'd achieved a new marathon PB by shaving 18 minutes off my previous timing at the Putrajaya Night Marathon. Also, I'd completed all the 10, 21, 42 km categories of the Standard Chartered Marathon Singapore, which begs the question - should I participate again in 2012? My elder cousin, who suffered a major cramp during the race, managed to complete his marathon within the time limit while the younger cousin made his half-marathon debut and finished the equally congested run in a respectable time. Personally, and most importantly, I'd learned to not give excuses. Could I have done better at the SCMS if I had the whole route to myself? I don't know. But I do know that despite being caught in the human traffic, I'd seized every opportunity to catch up, by running faster and smarter. And that's another life lesson learnt....through running.

As I sat on the pavement to rest, I saw many runners, with their finisher's T-shirt in hand, limping their way out of the Padang. I was one of them, of course. It's a funny sight, really.

For me, 2011 was mostly about running (as in the sport, of course). In the last 7 months, I'd done 4 half marathons, 2 King of the Road runs and 2 full marathons. Hey, that's slightly more than 1 official race per month! And that exclude the amount of training poured into improving each run. Ending the last run of the year on a happy note did put me in a cheerful, holiday mood. Two days after the marathon, I visited Beijing. Then, I was back in KL for a week, celebrating Christmas with friends before heading to Ipoh for some really good food. As for the New Year celebration.....


1 January 2012 (Newton New Year Challenge 2012)

This year, I'd observed new year's eve countdown parties being held everywhere in KL; from shopping malls to famous streets to public squares to residential areas! Even the football field in my neighbourhood was used by the current administration to usher in the new year with some stage performances (targeting mainly the older folks), lucky draws and fireworks display. But instead of joining this party (or any other, for that matter), I chose to sleep at 10:00 pm, after a sumptuous pre-race dinner of stir-fried potatoes with pork, fried chicken and ayam masak merah. Understandably, it's unwise to consume oily and spicy food before a race but I was curious to see how my body would react to moderate, not excessive, portions of such food. My friends were unhappy with my decision to sleep early instead of joining them for the countdown. But they've come to terms with my obsession and agreed to celebrate the arrival of 2012 on new year's day instead. And we had a good time enduring a torturous foot massage followed by a dinner of Moroccan lamb shank, among other dishes.

I chose to participate in the Newton Challenge because it's a run that's like no other. And I thought, completing this 25 km course of multiple, erratic elevations would be good motivation to start the brand new year. I’ve read a lot about the Ammah Hills and I still don’t understand the reason behind this moniker. Regardless, this was one steep, fierce mama. Looking at the race map, I was also slightly intimidated by the names of some major points along the route as well, like PUNCAK Jalil and Paragon HEIGHTS. They do sound high. So, the Newton Challenge is not just about conquering the distance, but more significantly, it’s about one’s ability to defy gravity.

Given the distance of 25 km, I didn’t device any special training sessions as I assumed my weekly mileage was sufficient to prepare me for this run, in terms of stamina. As for the elevations, I was just mentally prepared for some tough climbs.

As expected, at midnight, I was awakened by the explosions of fireworks from the football field. But I managed to fall asleep again soon after (surprisingly) and woke up at 3:00 am, all geared up for my first ever new year’s day run. Years ago, this was the time I’d returned home from the clubs.

At the start point, I saw many famous running bloggers and also bumped into my cousin, who took part in the 12 km run. It was as if the whole running community was there! The race started at 5:30 am along the relatively mild (flat) Kinrara Golf Club. A few minutes into the race, my MP3 player died…right after Moves Like Jagger. I didn’t feel right having the mute headphones stuck to my ears and decided to slow down to remove them before resuming my first silent race. But that was okay, really. Throughout the race, I’d seen runners waving and wishing each other a happy new year. I even heard someone saying Gong Hei Fatt Choi. That’s the reason why I like small-scale races like this. They are more intimate and enjoyable.

The first challenge came as we reached the T-junction of Persiaran Puncak Jalil. Turning left, we faced the introductory hill that left many breathless. I also found it a struggle but still launched ahead, body bent forward slightly, with my arms semi-folded, like a praying mantis. I realized that this position works well for me. Ascending one steep slope that measured almost 700 m in length after another was extremely taxing on the heart and legs. At times, I felt my heart was about to pound out of my chest. Runners began distancing from one another. Elites were spearheading at an envious speed, leaving the rest huffing and puffing, wishing the peak was within the next step. I tried to distract myself with trivial thoughts…of Sin Eng Heong’s delicious, crispy kaya puffs and wondering why the streetlights would turn off every time I pass them by. I could still go on, I convinced myself.

Descending the first major hill wasn’t easy too, for me. I didn’t want to switch to free gear, which I assumed would make the next climb more difficult, if I wanted to keep the momentum. I had to control my pace. Returning to the T-junction, we ran straight ahead towards the other direction of the Persiaran, which would ultimately lead us to Puncak Jalil. Here was THE killer slope, which looked frightening, even if one was driving. This was the absolute challenge, I thought. I tried not to look up, and focused on the dividing white lines on the road instead. The killer slope actually consists of a few smaller slopes, which made the climb even more difficult. Reaching the end of the first slope, we had a couple of seconds to catch our breath before continuing to ascend the second slope. And this vicious cycle would continue. After a while, one would lose interest in counting the number of slopes and just wished the race would end soon.

Without the distance markers, runners relied on each other and the traffic marshals for guidance. The marshals were very encouraging. When some runners asked one of the marshals for the distance, the friendly marshal replied, in Cantonese, Aiya, a few kilometers more only. Don’t think too much lah. Just continue to run! I thought that was rather entertaining.

I knew the end was near when I saw the last (and first) Petronas station. The ground was very much flat again, thank goodness. Crossing the finish line, I was still feeling fresh, although the legs were badly stretched, no thanks to Ammah and her children. I didn’t set any goal for this race because there are no other races of the same distance to compare it with. To my understanding, 25 km is a rather unusual distance. But my average pace had improved, in comparison with my best half marathon pace. So, that was an achievement, I thought. Also, I’d completed the course injury-free and without consuming any energy gels.

I lingered around the race site and had a few cups of isotonic drinks and Milo before heading home for a hearty and well-deserved breakfast of fried arrowhead chips and assam laksa. Despite the tough course, I’d enjoyed the race very much.

Many have predicted that 2012 will be a year of slower economy and increased natural disasters. I was also told that the new year would be disastrous for those born under my Chinese zodiac sign. If it’s true, that 2012 will be a struggle as suggested, I hope it’ll still be as fun as the Ammah Hills challenge. Bring it on!


Here’s wishing everyone a happy and healthy 2012.

The Nimble Fox

Seated next to me was Joseph. He was returning to Hamilton, south of Auckland. The music from his headphones was so loud, I could easily recognize the tunes. They were mostly modern rock songs from the 90s (and an Air Supply number). As I immersed in the Lonely Planet guide most of time, there wasn't much interaction between us...until the last hour before the plane landed at Auckland when he sprung a question. Here for a holiday?, he asked. In that hour, we talked about my itinerary and driving in New Zealand. I was mostly worried about the weather because November is a wet month. I asked if I should be concerned about the rain. A redundant question, I know. But I was hoping for an optimistic answer; an assurance. Well, this is the Land of the Long White Cloud, he said. I couldn't make out that remark. Later, when I checked into the hostel at Queenstown, the warm receptionist asked of my plan for the next day. Happily, I told her that I'd be leaving for Fox Glacier and asked if rain was to be expected. She smiled, then shrugged. Puzzled yet again, I'd finally given up asking about the weather for the rest of my trip.

Waking up to Queenstown's Lake Wakatipu on a sunny morning was one of the best moments I had this year. What's more when the air was cool and crisp. A light breakfast later, I began my scenic drive to Fox Glacier.

From Arrowtown, I trailed the winding, steep Crown Range Road (on a basic 1.3L automatic car, this proved to be a challenge) to reach the golden plains of Cardrona and later, the shimmering blue twin lakes of Wanaka and Hawea. For a few hours, I'd completely forgotten about the rain.

The sky rendered grey as I entered the village of Fox Glacier. The road turned misty, forcing me to slow down and turn on the windscreen wipers. Soon, it began to drizzle.

It was my intention to reach in the late afternoon. With a few hours of sunlight to spare, I was able to make an excursion to Lake Matheson - where on a clear day, promises a mirage of Mount Cook and Mount Tasman. Not on that day, unfortunately. The light rain had washed out the reflection. Even if the rain had stopped, Mount Cook would still be blanketed by thick, low-hanging clouds. Clearly, it wasn't my day. I was disappointed and solaced in the car munching a large bag of salt and vinegar potato chips.

The rain got heavier later that night. And my glacier walk was just a few hours away. I was terribly worried that the walk would be cancelled.

In the morning, the sky was bright again. Excellent, excellent! I took a look at my watch. It was 9:07 am. My walk would begin in 3 minutes! There was no time for a bath or brushing my teeth. I scrambled to wear my pants, put on my jacket and dashed for the door. I'd even forgotten about my passport and daypack. As I ran, I took a look at my watch again.

This time, the watch showed 7:00 am. I still had on my thermal pants and jacket. Outside, it was raining. I was obviously dreaming but I couldn't figure out which part of it was a dream. More importantly, in reality, the rain got heavier and there was no sign of it stopping in the next 2 hours. I envisioned a large WALK CANCELLED notice hanging outside the guide station. It wasn't about the money gone wasted that got me upset but the thought of having travelled thousands of miles to get here to fulfill one of my life dreams; just to be ruined by the rain.

There was no more optimism left in me. I dragged myself to the station, in the rain, for reporting. The station (which also functions as a souvenir shop and cafe) was warm and crowded. Before I could approach the receptionist, a staff instructed the full-day walkers to proceed to the left side for check-in. Yes, that's me! The walk would proceed despite the rain! I can't really describe how happy that announcement had made me.

Because it was raining, we were provided with raincoats and more serious-looking crampons. There were about 20 full-day walkers that morning. Later, we were divided into two groups. I went with a Brazilian couple (they were on their second honeymoon), two Taiwanese girls (who wanted to skydive in Queenstown), and the newlyweds from America. Our main guide was Megan from Canada. She was accompanied by a more experienced guide, Jono from Tasmania. Besides giving Megan a masterclass in guiding, Jono was also tasked to pave new routes for the coming walks.

They have a name for the full-day walk. It’s called the Nimble Fox. Given the slippery surfaces, I guess we weren’t as nimble as we would have wanted to. Slowly, we ascended the glacier in the heavy rain.

The science of the formation of glaciers is not difficult to understand but the visual effects that these compacted snows create are often magical. And they are always embellished with a spectrum of blue hues. Glaciers only appear blue because of the colour’s short wavelength, which can be reflected faster and not absorbed, as with colours of longer wavelengths; like red or green. To experience and understand better the science of this rare, natural phenomenon are the reasons that made me come to Fox Glacier.

The course was not easy to complete. And if unguided, proves to be extremely dangerous. Megan and Jono did most of the hard work; axing the ice to sculpt flights of stairs to make our climb easier and safer. It’s also important to be aware of the crevasses. One slip is all it takes to have one fall into the bottomless depth. And it’s easy to forget about safety, especially one is distracted by the beautiful ice pinnacles and seracs. That’s why we walked in a line, so that we can look out for each other.

We found a good spot for lunch and obviously hungry, I chomped my Jimmy’s meat pie fast. Apparently, Jimmy’s is one of the most well-known pies in New Zealand. And it was tasty, with the gravy mixed with a good amount of cheese. I only realized that the rain had stopped when the strong reflection of sunlight on the ice pained my eyes. I told Megan that I’d expected the walk to be cancelled due to the rain. She explained that in the case of showers like this, walks usually proceed. I’d continued to say how worried I was about the weather throughout the trip. Sometimes, we just got to have some faith, Jono interjected, while peeling his orange.

The glacier terrain is dynamic. It moves a considerable distance daily and therefore, there’s never an exactly same route, only similar. And that day, we were lucky. As we made our way to the highest point of our walk, Jono found a new path that led us down a fresh crevasse of perhaps just three meters deep. To reach this spot, we had to climb over another pinnacle, at an almost right-angled slope. We left our daypacks behind (to reduce weight) and began the climb; one at a time.

The view of the newly cracked glacier was amazing. We were allowed to land ourselves at the bottom of the crevasse to take some photos. Surrounded by the blue walls, I imagined myself walking on a frozen seabed. The few minutes spent down there were priceless. So was the taste of pure water dripping off the melting glacier.

Towards the end of our journey, the sky was grey again. And it started to drizzle when we neared the shuttle bus station. It’d been such an eventful day; from the dream to the rain to the spectacular glaciers to the newfound friends. Now, I felt that my Aotearoa journey had finally begun. I was looking forward to my next adventure. Was I still worried about the weather? Sometimes, we just got to have some faith. Sometimes, we just got to have some faith.

Home of Middle Earth

Fantasy adventures, be it in form of books or movies, do not interest me much. I did watch Peter Jackson's The Lord of the Rings trilogy though, but for the special effects and hype. After my visit to New Zealand, I wanted to watch them again, not because I have a newfound love for fantasies but just to be awed once more by the spellbinding, surreal sceneries. For me, it's not easy to describe the natural beauty that is New Zealand, so I thought I should begin my journey with a selection of photos taken as I made my way across this magical land; the home of Middle Earth.

NZ 647

Lake Matheson, Fox Glacier

Fox Glacier

Milford Sound

Wai-O-Tapu, Rotorua

Waimangu, Rotorua

Fukuharu

A worthy, value-for-money Japanese set lunch. The last time I was impressed by such a deal was back in 2008, when Lyrical Lemongrass, FatBoyBakes and I met for an eight-course kaiseki lunch at Fukuya, Bangsar One. I did find out later that Fukuharu also belongs to the owner(s) of Fukuya. That explains the similar minimalist interior, warm hospitality and affordable, homey Japanese food.

If not for FBB's dive wife (she's an admirable runner too), who'd highly recommended the set lunch, I wouldn't have travelled the distance to come to the TERRACE, given how horrendous the traffic can be like along Jalan Ampang. But more importantly, I wanted to catch up with her and share my recent running experiences.

After a run earlier in the morning, I was certain that one set lunch (Japanese, especially) wouldn't be enough for me. But I was assured that the portions here are huge. The dishes rolled out one after another, starting with the salad, chawan mushi, choice of main dish (I chose the saba shioyaki, or grilled mackerel sprinkled with salt) and a bowl of hot soba (one can choose rice instead). The selection was J-typical but the ingredients remained fresh. Especially at only RM38+, there was nothing left to complain about, really. But of course, the stomach was only half filled, at best. But that's not their fault.

Somewhere between deploring the erratic slopes along the Putrajaya Night Marathon route and planning for the insane Western State 100 Mile Endurance Run (it will not materialise, believe me), we were served the mini kaiseki appetizer platter, which I'd absolutely forgotten. It was surprisingly a plateful. And of relatively good quality too. Among others, the salmon sashimi slices (and cubes - with a wafu-style dressing and served in a shot glass) were considerably fresh, the riceball-coated deep-fried prawn came à la minute crispy and there was even a cut of well-seasoned roast duck. Now that's what I call worthy.

Our fervent discussion on running went on for some time (covering Asics/Saucony shoes versus the world, introversion of runners, strategic locations to hide hydration bottles while running, etc), paused only for dessert (part of the set). It was a simple, flavourful scoop of vanilla ice cream, interestingly drizzled with black sesame sauce.

Fukuharu brought back good memories of Fukuya at Bangsar One. Both restaurants offer unbeatable set lunches in a relaxed setting. Personally, I think that this is a better option for a weekend gathering of few friends than to splurge on a chic restaurant where just the appetizer of colourful foams and a deconstructed iced lemon tea cost more this set lunch.

Fukuharu
TERRACE at Hock Choon
241-B, Lorong Nibong off Jalan Ampang
50450 Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia