La Strada's Carbonara

I've found a carbonara that's better than Canale's, but it's double the price. Reading reviews online, and given it's price point, I had placed quite high hopes on the Carbonara at La Strada - and it was definitely not a disappointment. It's taste was remarkably nuanced and dare I say light, especially for a Carbonara - I believe La Strada's recipe followed the Italian version of the dish, rather than the more common American version. What I loved about La Strada's dish was that the pasta was handmade (or at least I think it is) - it wasn't all entirely regular in shape, and it was just al dente - perfectly cooked. The chewey bacon tossed inbetween the pasta along with the crispy slices of ham/bacon complemented the cheese (which wasn't overpowering) and truffle butter very nicely. The only pity: the portion was a tad small - just a small measure more would have been better, alternatively, I should have ordered it with a set lunch (starter and dessert). I'll most definitely treat myself to this whenever I have a carbonara craving, now that I've tasted and tried it.

It's better than Canale's - but then again, they are both under Les Amis.

5th Week, BMTC

Like the previous week, this week was a short one, but it was one that tested my mental resilliance, as well as the degree of faith that I put in God. The week was not particularly physically strenuous (the entire week was spent handling our rifles), but it was one that drained me nevertheless. I suppose any righteous Christian would speedily state that it is in our moments of trails that God reveals His grace - and I do agree, its just that sometimes, I genuinely wonder why it requires so much agony for God to be seen. But I'll get back to that a little later.

27.02.12 Starting the day with buttery Marks and Spencer chocolate cookies was undeniably one way to ease the book-in blues that I had experienced the night before. Quoting myself, I described those blues as being both "painful and depressing", but perhaps I was exaggerating. Incidentally, in my diary, that was juxtaposed against my description of my chocolate cookies as being "little pleasures in life. wonderful buttery and chocolatey bliss". On a related note, I have realized that food has become quite a form of respite for me - even the soggy onion rings and burger that I had packed in for dinner proved itself to be delicious; never would I have thought that I would be reduced to such a state. But I digress. I suspect such moments of feeling down would continue to make itself felt every time I return back into camp. The entire day was spent practicing something called Urban Operations, which in essence is military operations in an urban setting, as opposed to jungle warfare. We were promised that the day would be fun by our commanders, or rather, they hinted/suggested (perhaps subtly, I cannot quite remember) that it would be so. We were driven to this set of shophouses that was built in the middle of what would appear to look like a palm plantation - I'm sure this makes it quite apparent who the SAF considers a potential threat to Singapore's safety. Personally, I wouldn't quite consider shoddy shophouses an urban environment, but then again, building high-rises solely for such practices wouldn't make much economic sense either. Firing blanks in such a setting proved a novelty, at least for a while, and like all novelties, it wore off for me at least. I suppose the handling of a firearm isn't exactly my biggest interest, but for quite a lot of my other platoon/section mates, the day's activity proved to be particularly fun, especially towards the end when it became quite like a game of Counterstrike or (insert first-person shooter game here). All of our meals were out-rationed; not to be one who whines or complains too much but the consequence of that is the trouble of washing my metal cutlery - I should have brought disposable ones like what one of my section mates did. That aside, 2 rather nice points made the day: we had fish and chips for dinner (it wasn't excellent but nevertheless, it was fish and chips in the army) and second, I got a chance to shower (albeit rushed) without having to jostle in a queue.

28.02.12 - 29.02.12 Marksman - that was the standard that the company set for us for our live shooting exercise, otherwise known as PTP (to be honest I am completely clueless what the acronym stands for). At the start of my diary entry for the 28^th of February, I wrote that the day would be "less intense" than the day before, that there would be "a lot of waiting in-between" - basically, I thought that I would have quite a fair bit of time to rest and relax. In retrospect, not only were those thoughts off, they were completely wrong. I publicly declare on this blog that I am terrible at shooting, and I would like to add that the adage that practice makes perfect does not seem to apply for me in this case. The company sets targets (which in my opinion are generally reasonable) when it comes to shooting - on average it is no more than 2 misses per set of shots; anyone who fails to meet that minimum standard has to reshoot. Basically, I spent the whole of the 28^th shooting, and reshooting, and reshooting, and reshooting (you get my drift), in a bid to attain that minimum standard. For most, one reshoot was more than enough, but even after 3 reshoots for each set, I believe that I still failed to meet the Marksman standard. It was especially terrible for the night shoot - I estimate that I missed at least 50%, if not more of the targets. IMT - Individual Marksman Training, a computer simulated shoot, had lied to me about my prospects of attaining the Marksman achievement. It was especially demoralizing to see how everyone else was succeeding, and yourself failing miserably, that being on top of the physical toll that reshooting repeatedly took on your body. I was extremely tired and drained by the end of the day (can you believe that it started at 8am and ended at 1am), and I won't deny that I was feeling frustrated at the perceived lack of help from God. Unsurprisingly, results that bad (though honestly, I believe my end score was somewhat close to the minimum standard required to be considered a Marksman) led to me being drafted for a second day of shooting - the small pool of fellas like myself were deemed 'bobo shooters' - I suppose bobo is Malay for zero. The second day was especially painful because apart from the 16 bobos that included myself, everyone else had cleared that particular hurdle. Reshooting yielded results that were no better than the first day, on the contrary, I believe I fared even worse, at least for the day shoot, than before. Like the first day, there was quite a fair bit of waiting and failing - that was when I really started to question why God wasn't helping me. I felt frustrated, angry and weary - evidently the lack of sleep was taking its toll. All I can say about the day was that in the end, I still failed to attain my Marksman, but I did realize a few things: That God was there all the while, albeit in ways unexpected - the nice officer from my platoon that constantly encouraged me, the generally helpful SMEs that guided me along, and most significantly, the part about not having to reshoot for a third time. Truly, it was only by His grace that I survived the two days without breaking down.

01.03.12 Relative to the other days, the day was incredibly relaxed: waking up at 7.30am, enjoying my cookies, rifle cleaning, and perhaps rather oddly (for me at least to say this) the rather refreshing group run - the last bit was probably because of the lack of proper physical exercise in the entire week. It was also my first time in the week eating at the cookhouse for both lunch and dinner - dare I say, I had missed doing that; eating out of paper boxes was getting rather vexing. I suppose the only thing that I could complain about the day was the immense difficulty of getting a rifle spotless - carbon residue really does stick on really well to the rifle's metal. But all in all, I felt really good on the 1^st of March, perhaps from the (subconscious) knowledge that God had guided me through the past week. I know that I need to trust God for the upcoming field camp, of which is something that I am dreading.

Psalm 56:3-4 - "Whenever I am afraid, I will trust in You. In God (I will praise His word), In God I have put my trust; I will not fear. What can flesh do to me?"

The Fruits of My Labour

When you eat the labour of your hands,
You shall be happy, and it shall be well with you.

Psalm 128:2

Returning to my alma mater (SAJC) today was quite a surreal encounter - gone was the anticipation of drudgery that used to plague my soul as I trudged through the halls of the school, replaced by an overwhelming sense of nostalgia and anticipation, as I awaited the results of 2 years of work in the company of my friends and former schoolmates.

Unlike some of my friends, there was little nervousness in my spirit - perhaps my mind was preoccupied with the fear of the imminent field camp; perhaps it was because I had seen and felt the grace of God working in my life over the past few weeks, a comforting hand that suggested that there was already a plan for my life ahead. It was wonderful being in the company of the people whom I had studied (to varying degrees of intensity) over the past 2 years; to see our efforts cumulate in this one moment - receiving knowledge of our A-Level results.

General Paper	H1	A
Physics	H1	B
Literature in English	H2	A
Economics	H2	A
Mathematics	H2	C

To be honest, my feelings are mixed about my results - veering from happiness and disappointment to even a lack of emotion. They are decent, I suppose; I know they pale in comparison to the top scorer of my school, probably to those of my section mates from RI and HCI, but nevertheless they were decent. It was by the grace of God that I did how I did, however there was disappointment - my Math grade. Mathematics was a subject that I had invested quite a significant amount of effort in, it was the only subject that I took up tuition for, heck, I had worked harder on it than I had on Physics (a subject which I was not particularly fond of). And yet I got a C. I don't know, God, you had promised that our labours would be rewarded, especially if we put our trust in you. I'm sorry for that rant, I know that such rants are not only insensitive, but it is reflective of how warped the priorities in my life are (that I'm putting the temporal above the eternal) so forgive me Lord, for I am only human.

I suppose I have nothing more to say, except that my future is really in the hands of God.

Moments in Time

Image Credit: Dominic Wilcox

I have nothing else to add, except that I'm truly amazed by how creative this artist is to come up with the concept of using a watch to illustrate the constantly changing social issues around us.

Sinajina Bonsai

Image Credit (in order of appearance): The Doll Flowers, Ginkgo Telegraph

While nothing is permanent in this world, and transience is inevitable, for just that split second, the art of bonsai manages to capture the essence of control through the very delicate balance between the natural and manmade.

I'm particularly intrigued to by the work of a Japanese botanist - Kobayashi, of whom I have just discovered via Remodelista, particularly by how he has reinvented this very traditional art form into something that is both true to its roots, yet has a very modern feel to it; a nouveau version. Very nice indeed.

Mercedes Benz Museum

Image Credit: Michael Schnell and ArchDaily

I particularly love how futuristic the interiors look - almost as if it came straight out of a set in 'The Island'. The contrast between light and shadows (especially with the use of quite a lot of concrete) also works beautifully to suggest the power and bravado of the Mercedes Benz name - one of both luxury and masculinity. Somehow, I suspect the building functions a little bit like the Guggenheim museum, based on the last picture, though I can't find any decent section images to affirm that - nevertheless, if that were the case, it would serve as quite a nice metaphor for the brand - one characterised by a persistent desire to improve, yet not forgetting its fundamental history and strengths.

Ralph Lauren FW 2012 (Womenswear)

Image Credit: The Sartorialist

Very Great Gatsby-esque, quite lovely indeed.

4th Week, BMTC

The week was a short one (the evening of the 19th to that of the 23rd), but it was one that was nevertheless fraught with challenges - as well as God's rather remarkable ways of getting me through/out of them.

19.02.12 The first night in after a well deserved, albeit short break was most definitely a rather painful experience - okay, I'm being a little hyperbolic here. Nevertheless, there was a certain moodiness to me that evening, as I yearned to be freed from the obligation that was NS (BMTC), and also for the restoration of my creature comforts to me. The consolation however was that the weekend was beautifully spent; I went on a gastronomical feast - fresh seafood at Itacho Sushi right after booking out, lovely and buttery croissants at Maison Kayser the next morning, and a Chinese meal at Tung Lok just before booking in. Undeniably that raked up a hefty bill, and left me with a sense of want as I approached the in-camp food throughout most of the week that lay ahead, but it was well worth it. Another consolation was the jovial spirits of my section mates, without whom I probably would have been particularly, not merely somewhat moody, so if you're reading this, thanks guys, for the optimism.

20.02.12 The first day in camp was one that definitely put to test the sermon that I had just heard the previous afternoon - on surrendering my hopes and fears to God, and trusting that His grace would see me through both that day and for eternity, as well as the frivolous dalliances of my mind. The day was generally quite light - most of it was spent at an indoor simulation shooting range, doing something called the Individual Marksman Training (IMT). Two verses saw me through the day (thank God for the reading list from R-AGE):

Romans 12:1-2 - "I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service. And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God."

1 Corinthians 13:4-8 - "Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails. But whether there are prophecies, they will fail; whether there are tongues, they will cease; whether there is knowledge, it will vanish away."

The IMT was rather draggy, despite the fact that I was done by the morning (others still had to wait their turn, and consequently, we had to wait for them), but nevertheless, I was thankful that the waiting, with the IMT was conducted in an air-conditioned environment. The rest of the afternoon was spent resting in the bunk - yes it was quite a lazy day, except for the evening, which involved something called a Force Spread/Preparation (I can't quite remember) and night PT. I skipped the latter as I was feeling a tad bloated - probably the result of too heavy a lunch and dinner, and too little activities that stimulated digestion; this feeling of being bloated and abdominal discomfort lasted for pretty much the whole week. Incidentally, this was the week that the entire bunk started to fall sick - definitely a fine example of what close proximity can do to aid viral transmissions; I was down with a cough that undeniably worsened over the course of the week.

21.02.12 Mornings, as written before, are especially painful for me, both in civilian life, and especially so in the military - nobody in their right mind wakes up at 4.30am. But this verse gave me (some degree of) strength:

Psalm 27:1 - "The Lord is my light and my salvation; Whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; Of whom shall I be afraid?"

The day started early as we had to do some practices on the throwing of (dummy) grenades in anticipation of live throws the following day. I must say that despite the long and draggy day that was the 20th of February, and the mud that I had to crawl through as part of the grenade assault course, I had quite a fair bit of fun - no doubt thanks to the strength that God provided me with. The day however ended on a slightly sour note: a poor chap in my section got his rifle "stunned" (in military speak) and faced the threat of confinement as a result - the only way out (at least when it was announced to us) was that the whole platoon spent a morning doing remedial training (RT); honestly I don't see the point of collective punishments. Thankfully, the sergeant decided to waive off this punishment, otherwise I wouldn't be typing this now.

22.02.12 Throwing a live grenade was definitely no joke - its amazing, and even scary how something the size of a lemon could pack such deadly force. Then again, size isn't exactly a good indicator of potential, but what I can say is that it was rather scary carrying a live explosive in your breast pocket, knowing that it could potentially kill you should the device be faulty. Despite all of those fears, things turned out rather well, and I especially have to thank God for giving me a reassuring officer (Shaunald) who guided me through the entire process of throwing the live grenade. Following the grenade throws, we had to march back to our camp - a rather arduous 6 kilometres away. I'd like to add that it wasn't the distance that proved arduous, but rather the insane load, pardon me, the insane backpack that proved the challenge - it didn't sit well on my shoulder (I have rather narrow shoulders), and that made the march rather painful. Nevertheless, I survived it, as well as some rather silly Urban Operations training at night.

23.02.12 Evidently, the chunks above are getting shorter and shorter as I progress with typing out my thoughts on the past week, and it is the case for 2 reasons: the days had less activities than before (albeit longer ones), and that I'm getting a little tired of typing as well. But I digress: the 23rd was the day that I was due to bookout, and the entire day was spent in anticipation of that. I also learnt that I was particularly lucky - most of my other friends did not have this luxury of an early bookout, and Ansen and Joel (Moppet) had RT and Confinement (so I heard) respectively. poor chaps. The day was spent with an SOC practice, which was quite fun I must add - I'm glad that I can finally overcome the low wall, though the low rope still remains an obstacle that I have yet to overcome (literally and figuratively). For some strange reason, for most of the week before the 23rd, I felt constipated - perhaps it was the lack of proper fruits and vegetables that led to that (I really do not eat beansprouts), but oddly enough, the 23rd was marked by the feeling of gassiness and diarrhea like stools - not quite to the point of being watery, but very mushy and persistent (gross, I know). A visit to the doctor ended the day - that cough has to be treated, ASAP. Despite the long day, it was good to know that guidance was never far away, and that it passed quite smoothly.

BMTC, 3 Weeks In

The passing of time is truly a surreal thing; just three weeks ago, I was battling my doubts and fears about my impending enlistment (and how I would survive that arduous period of confinement), and right now, I am penning my thoughts and emotions, retrospectively of course, that I experienced during that particular period in the comfort of my own home. That's not to say that those three weeks felt like a breeze - on the contrary, they felt long-drawn-out and quite simply put, they felt like forever, but then again, the truth is that putting it that way is hyperbolic, and by the grace of God, I survived the pains of confinement. It feels absolutely surreal to be home now, and yet know that in under 48 hours, I will be returning to a week's worth of entrapment (pardon the negativity).

The subsequent parts of this post summarises the feelings that I endured during each of the respective weeks that I spent in BMTC, and they would not be possible without the help of my diary - I must say, penning down my thoughts is probably (to a certain extent) how I maintained my sanity during that long period, and it is for that very reason that I intend to continue maintaining my journal. Pardon the innumerable switches in tense below - coherence and uniformity isn't quite my aim (or care) at this point in time.

WEEK 0 (31 JAN - 5 FEB) Just about anyone would have at least some trouble adjusting to military life - and for me, the sudden introduction of regimentation, rigid discipline and abrupt loss of many individual freedoms was to say the least, particularly difficult to adapt to. The first week was especially painful for me, that I won't deny. I am by nature quite a control-freak, and I've been particularly sheltered as an only child. The sense of pessimism was not made any better by the fact that being in the military was not exactly my cup of tea or idea of fun. It was also hardly a laughing matter for me to see commercial planes fly overhead every half hour or so - it was a cruel reminder of my state of entrapment, as opposed to the freedom that flying had come to represent. It was the first time that meals, short as they may be (in the army, that is) became times of respite and rest from the strictness of regimentation and military life. With that being said, I really have to thank God for giving me the opportunity to learn to eat a wider array of vegetables beyond broccoli. And on the point on respites, I must say that being in Tekong has allowed me to truly enjoy the night sky, with the glory of its stars and all - the same stars that God spoke to Abraham about. The first week was also when I realised that I was even less prepared for the army, physically speaking that is, than I had thought - all of this was revealed through my inability to do proper SAF pull-ups, and more significantly, my IPPT results. To quote my diary entry, I described it as being "indeed an issue [to pass]". Despite the buckets worth of sweat that was forced out of my scrawny body during the many different types of physical training, the following verses offered me some guidance:

1 Corinthians 10:31 - "Therefore, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God." 2 Corinthians 5:7 - "For we walk [and stretching the meaning of the word, run] by faith, not by sight."

Which is why I will sum up my thoughts for the first week (or rather, week zero in the eyes of the SAF) as being "an opportunity to grow physically, mentally and spiritually" (again I am quoting my diary entry), one where difficulty no doubt existed at every corner, but likewise, it was a chance for God to prove His faithfulness at each of those moments. On a side note, Tekong, despite being a mere degree warmer than the mainland, feels like a sauna in comparison, and the sun can be brutally harsh. I know this from the sunburns that plagued my head, neck and shoulders the first week. Needless to say, it itched like crazy, and without a doubt, I am at this point in time significantly darker than I was before entering the island.

WEEK 1 (6 FEB- 12 FEB) As it was in the first week (which unfortunately was deemed by the SAF as not being a week), there is hardly a moment in a day on Tekong where the sun isn't (pardon the clich�d phrase) beating down on me. The start of the week also heralded the first time I wore a "Smart [number] 4", which is a graduated step above the silly pajamas like excuse of a uniform that is called the number 4 - one that seemingly traps heat relentlessly. That being said, I can't exactly complain, as those in the May army intake would probably endure less forgiving temperatures.

I must add that my second week in BMTC made me realise that I had it quite good, relative to those in other companies. I discovered the (general) niceness and reasonability of my sergeants and commanders, especially when I compare them to those at a company called Kestral. Things there were apparently so bad that one poor fella was driven to attempt suicide, at least that's what hearsay and Twitter informed me about. The second week was also the week where the army's atmosphere of "high testosterone, chauvinism, immaturity and perceived sense of manhood" revealed itself fully through the blatant use of cussing, misogynistic remarks and general level of gungho-ness. Such traits manifest itself in arguably all aspects of military life - including some army songs that in my opinion prove particularly demeaning and objectifying to women. But perhaps I'm being a little too unforgiving and petty - such traits exist in many other environments elsewhere.

I would like to think that I'm a fairly rational person - and I accept the (relatively rare) instances that we were 'tekan-ed' in the second week as reasonable (albeit light in the eyes of the SAF and relative to other companies) and justified for issues like punctuality and all.

It was also at the second week that the I felt extremely raw and vulnerable - I was missing home and family, PT was tiring, I was not near the physical standard required of me. the list goes on. The planes bothered me even more than ever, but at the very least, I was sleeping better. The other little respite of the second week was probably the 4km road march, or 4 click in army terms - it was a chance to see the island outside of the concrete shell that is BMTC School. Perhaps another little respite would be the chance to cool off in the camp's pool - though I mustn't fail to note that the pool water was atrociously disgusting; the "lovely broth" was probably a concoction of the sweat of thousands of NS men. It was also the week that we had inoculations - I have a tremendous fear of needles, but by the grace of God, it was almost entirely painless, much to my surprise. I suppose the other little respite that we got during training (with the PT instructors) was a group clap at the end - I really appreciate that, it makes you feel like you've done something commendable and worthwhile.

Just a minor rant here - but in general, the army's ability to present itself, both verbally and visually in its visual material is quite severely lacking. Their slideshows are ugly and amateurish, the presenters generally do not articulate and enunciate well (to be honest, this isn't entirely their fault, rather, its an issue that lies within many Singaporeans). The sole exception that I witnessed was the presenter from the Air Force, but then again, he was an SAF scholar.

Given that what I term as "admin week" was over, schedules became particularly tight, while the efficiency (pardon me, efficiency) of the SAF remained at its same bottom. To quote a (really nice) sergeant, "we rush to wait, and wait to rush" - it is exactly because of this that meal-times were sometimes unrealistically short, only to be followed by an hour long waiting period, or the near lack of time to shower. The latter complaint probably makes me sound particularly weak, but I maintain that personal hygiene is an important aspect of one's civility - something that I want to maintain.

James 1:22 - "But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves."

This is a verse that I try hard, especially in the army, to live by. It is difficult, especially when I disagree with quite a fair bit of the army's premise, but I do also believe that God has placed me in my particular place for a purpose.

WEEK 2 (13 FEB- 17 FEB) To be honest, at this point in time (not in reference to the week but the point at which I am typing this post), I'm getting particularly lazy, so this last chunk will be extremely condensed; an intensely abridged version of my diary entries.

This week marked the first time for quite a few things - 1. donning on my ILBV (essentially, a vest that is terribly suffocating and poorly made (by the contracted Chinese factory), 2. applying camouflage cream, 3. crawling in soil. I definitely have to add that this week, while generally less physically demanding as compared to the prior week, felt quite a lot tougher - perhaps because book-out was so close, yet seemed so far.

Yet through it all, by the grace of God, I pulled through. Its however no doubt just the beginning, and I will have to continue to trust in Him and seek His guidance and strength - the same goes to the strength that I draw from parental support. I truly love them, and I can't wait to see them again at the subsequent book-out (1 week away).

Adieu for Now

Without any choice, or desire, I must bid this blog adieu for the time being, as with my civilian life. I'll be enlisting into the army tomorrow, at 11.45am, and what lies ahead remains a blur to me. I most certainly hope that things will be fine, and I do trust the Lord to ensure that, but it is only human to have doubts and fears.