Birthday Celebrations

It was pointed out over the weekend that Malaysians tend to have their social activities revolve around the consumption of food. And when I think about it, my birthday celebrations tend to occur in not dissimilar circumstances. For example, last year saw me taking in all that was on offer on the island of Sicily, and this year saw a gastronomic journey a little closer to home.

Round 1 was at Hanahana, which served an acceptable level of Japanese cuisine. The only downside was the fact that it was awfully busy (then again, it was ‘Black Friday’) and that being the only non-caucasian customers, we were mistaken as members of staff by a couple of ignoramuses. Oh, and the slightly disconcerting view of a lobster that was cut in half but was still twitching when it was placed in front of us.

Round 2 was at Cafe 21, which served excellent food despite the slightly snooty attitude of the maitre d’. Leaning towards the pricier side of things, but it was quality food from an ex-Michelin-starred bistro; arguably one of the better places in Geordieland. I was treated to a rather adventurous crab lasagne with cappucino sauce for starters, and succulent grilled scallops as the main course.

Interspersed between the two were trips to my fav cafe for breakfast and the rather odd (but surprisingly good) choice of Big Mussel for dessert on the Saturday night.

Good food does not necessarily equate to good times though, unless it is mixed with good company. The saddening fact that Sweetie wasn’t around to join in the festivities was tampered to a degree by the presence of a fair number of my close friends. Some took the trouble to travel from afar, some made the effort to take time off from work or from exam preparations.

It is always nice to know that people care for you. But touched as I was/am by the thoughtful messages/gestures and brilliant gifts that I received, I was even happier by the fact that everyone got along with each other very well, and everyone appeared to have had a good time. It was a rather varied group, but I can’t remember the last time we all laughed so much.

I do occasionally harbour rather naive hopes of seeing all my friends get along well with each other. In the past, I have seen how horribly wrong things can go, but the moments where everyone comes together are precious and the memories will probably last a lifetime. Assuming I don’t get dementia as I keep aging, of course.

Hilarious!

It's been around for a while, but I've only just been introduced to it.

My Mini adventure

I have referred to Daisy as a bimbo in the past, and I reckon that this is a rather unfair comment.

The term ‘bimbo’ tends to denote an image of an entity that’s all beauty, and of one who tends not to pay too much attention to the more cerebral side of things. That statement can’t be applied to Daisy though, as there’s more than meets the eye despite her bimbo-like good looks.

Daisy’s my first. And it’s never easy with your first. Beginnings tend to be rocky. You get nervous, afraid of making the wrong move. You veer dangerously at the edge of your comfort zone as you act in ways hitherto unknown to yourself, trying desperately not to make a wrong move and reach a dead end. There definitely was a period that was fraught with false starts, as I hesitantly moved to discover what made her tick.

Things have definitely improved over the past few months though. I have come to know the complexity that lies beneath her generous curves, the personality that is shining through. I have discovered the appropriate buttons to push, with a resultant purr of content or roar of approval from her. And she seems to respond well to my wants and needs, although I must confess to occasionally pushing her beyond the borders of what she’s used to.

The degree of familiarity can be disconcerting to others though, as I have grown to love handling her and pushing her to her limits. I guess that I will need to learn to control and rein in myself in the presence of others.

She is admittedly a little ‘high maintenance’, but I already feel that she’s worth the price. This is going to be a beautiful relationship.

Pots & kettles

It is interesting to note the response to Mukhriz Mahathir’s statement that the federal government should change the vernacular-school system so that Chinese and Tamil schools could be streamlined into one ‘Malaysian education system’. In his view, there should only be one system, where only Bahasa Malaysia and English are used for teaching purposes, but with Tamil and Chinese offered within the system for those interested.

Many have chosen to lambaste Mukhriz for his comments, saying that it is seditious and against the spirit of respecting each races’ right to self-education (plus it probably scores them brownie points for attacking the son of Tun Dr Mahathir). And such assaults have come from both BN and PR, with MCA and MIC making the appropriate noises and one can even find that champion of ‘Bangsa Malaysia’, Lim Kit Siang, spewing verbal fire on the matter.

A rational mind would agree that an educational system which espouses segregation would inevitably lead to segregation within society. All that talk about getting the various ethnic groups to mix together in university is pointless if the individuals have spent the formative years of their lives in a school where they’re mostly surrounded by individuals of the same race (and this includes the boarding schools that cater almost exclusively to the Malays).

How can one expect children to learn about other races or to learn to not only respect but rejoice in diversity if they only mingle with their own kind? You might as well start building separate towns for each ethnic group then, and allow them to be run as individual fiefdoms.

I find it rather farcical that the very same individuals who are arguing for a dissolution of Malay rights for the sake of unity are not only unwilling to let go of special privileges granted to other ethnic groups, but fail to see the hypocrisy of their actions.

Jauh perjalanan, luas permandangan

One of things I miss about my Nokia is the fact that I can spontaneously take photographs of good quality. For example, there was a wonderful view of the Houses of Parliament at dusk earlier today, and the picture I took simply did not do it any justice. I really should invest in a camera, and thus allow myself to take pretty pictures as I go on my travels (as Kudo is undoubtedly doing at present in Paris, and WK back home in Malaysia).

I was unable to catch up with the two of them whilst in London, but I was able to hang out with a couple of couples. This included catching up with Reem after an obscenely prolonged amount of time and trying not to be distracted by the friendliest feline since Burange (see pic below with the owner) whilst chilling with Ninie and Amir. Stroking the little kitty was probably quite therapeutic as well; leading to a much-needed state of relaxation.




Generally speaking, I’m a pretty confident guy. I am not without experience in public speaking, and am not afraid to speak my mind. The latter appears to be more obvious during informal sessions though; I am absolutely fine when discussing politics over dinner or philosophy over a cup of coffee, or banging off ideas with my consultant during ward rounds. But when it comes to ‘formal’ sessions, I somehow seem to lose a little bit of my mojo.

Case in point numero uno: PACES.

I have yet to look at the breakdown of my results, but I am sure that I didn’t pass because of 2 things. Firstly, I couldn’t locate, let alone identify the rash in Station 5 and that killed the entire station ‘cause my confidence went the way of the Dodo. Secondly, I KNOW I betrayed nervousness whilst presenting some of my findings. And whilst I know that the key to passing PACES is to ‘play the game’ and display a relaxed and confidence facade, it’s a heck of a lot easier said than done.

In fact, Gerry said that my problem is that I am too nice a guy and lack the relatively more aggressive approach of the locals. To quote him, I should be bordering the point of arrogance. It’s probably the first time that my ‘niceness’ has been pointed out as a flaw, but I do see his point. To make things worse, I do get rather nervous when I am in front of him for one reason or another. I end up feeling like a schoolboy in front of his headmaster. And to top things off, he had such a look of utter disappointment in his eyes when we talked about my PACES that I felt that I had not only let myself down, but the entire (non-existent) school as well.

To be honest, there are 3 reasons why I didn’t pass and the third reason is the simple fact that I didn’t work hard enough. And there’s no escaping that fact, nor can I make any excuses. I did not put in the effort that was required, which naturally lead to me not getting the results that I wanted.

Case in point nombor dua : My presentation at the British Thoracic Society’s Winter Meeting earlier today.




I can’t remember the last time I had palpitations prior to an oral presentation. Then again, it’s been months since my last presentation and I’ve never actually given one in front of an audience consisting of professors and physicians, some of whom are eminent figures in their chosen fields of study.

Happily enough, the research data was well-received and although I did betray a hint of nervousness, I didn’t make an absolute fool of myself. To be fair, I probably didn’t do THAT badly considering I’m merely a junior doctor (and I had a tremendously supportive Dr Murphy in the audience as well) and it’s my first appearance at a conference at national level.

But when you’re in the presence of individuals such as Prof Calverley and Prof Celli, individuals who have not only spearheaded ground-breaking research but have such pleasant personalities as well as brilliant presentation skills, you realise just how much of an insignificant speck you are in the world of medicine. Listening to them speak was an eye-opener in itself; I don’t think I would have been able to hold a conversation with them even if I had the opportunity as I would’ve clammed up for fear of making a complete fool of myself.

We all have to start from somewhere though and I guess that’s one of the good things of being exposed to conferences such as these; it makes you realise just how much you have to work and how far you have to go in order to reach such stratospheric heights. It’s actually given me the motivation to work harder for my PACES, simply to get it out of the way, in order to be able to concentrate on other matters that might help advance my appreciation for medicine. Here’s hoping that the winter wonderland that has greeted my return to the northeast will not dampen this burst of enthusiasm.