Each time I return to Singapore a little of what I associate with the place has disappeared. I suppose this is inevitable, it happens to all places. But in the case of Singapore the process is faster and the effect startling. I have lived in Singapore for two short spells: in 1987-1988 and in 1999-2001. The changes seem to escalate over time. Now, I come back once a year or so, on a brief stopover travelling between my two home-countries.
Buildings and whole blocks vanish at a frightening speed, and both buildings where we once lived have ended their short lives and been replaced by new ones, three or four times as high.
But it is the food that I miss the most. Today, you can have almost any international culinary experience imaginable: French, Italian, Mexican. There are hamburger places, steakhouses and olde English pubs. But where is the essence of Singaporean food? I don’t mean sanitized hotel versions of it, but the real thing. The little street vendors selling satays in the streets. The roti parata joints. The sweaty market stalls with carrot cake and Poh pia? A hunt for the latter, the wonderfully spicy, tender Singaporean version of a burrito. An unfried soft spring roll asembled while you wait, filled with yams, eggs, pork belly and chilli.
I found construction sites, overbuilt markets and closed food courts. But no poh pia. On my last day I was ready to give up and went for a last foot massage (Fuji, best in town, though Sam is no longer there). I asked the girl who was working away on my feet if there was anywhere in town still selling poh pia. She said very few. But told me that there is now a food court at Wisma Artrium in Orchard Road, on the fourth floor. And in the farthermost corner there is a stand selling all the old foods.
So, I took myself there. And eventually I found the little stand, hidden in the far courner, as she had said. And there it was, my poh pia. And carrot cake (not the Western kind, this is savoury dish). And satays and chicken wings grilled over an old fashion coal fire.
It should be protected!

People go to Prague to enjoy the beautiful city. There are tourists everywhere. So, for me it was interesting to be there for business - The Prague Book Fair. Walk the surprisingly empty streets just off the main tourist tracks. I stayed in a wonderful small hotel, Cerny Slon - the Black Elephant - just off the busy main square in the Old Town, yet quaint and quiet. And smelling of cooking, the old kind of real cooking that has never seen a microwave or a freezer. The kind of cooking my grandmother used to make: overcooked meat, slightly stale bread, gravy.

It was a strange experience to walk into a book store and ask for ‘Astrid a Veronika’ and be told by an excited girl behind the desk that the novel by ‘Olssonová’ was almost sold out and was ‘very, very good’. I held one of the two remaining copies in my hand with a sense of excitement. As if it has nothing to do with me.

I suppose book fairs are more or less the same the world over. The venue for the Prague Book Fair, The Průmyslový palác, the central building of the Prague Exhibition Grounds, is an impressive Art Noveau building. Sadly the left wing was destroyed by fire last year and the part of the book fair in this part of the building this year has to cope with rather difficult conditions. In spite of this there are lots of visitors and queues to many stands. I have no idea what to expect for my stage appearance, but discover that it is a very well organized interview on stage. My interpreter, Linda Kaprová, speaks flawless Swedish and also proves to be both professional and sensitive. The audience is surprisingly large and includes the Swedish Ambassador. I come away very grateful and very impressed.
This visit made it possible for me to meet my publisher Metafora, and the people there who have made my book such a success. Often, my publishers remain rather anonymous. Now I have a face to the name of the people here.

I wouldn’t have missed it for the world!

An absolutely meaningless picture from my US tour - reflections on the water in the Willamette river _ or perhaps not all that meaningless.

Tonight, I had the good fortune to listen to an interview with Felix Rohatyn. I know nothing about him. For all I know, he could be against everything I believe in. But in this interview everything he says rings true to me. All the things that I have emotionally felt, but never thought I had the right - or the backup - to express, he does say. With good backup. E.g. that accounting systems don’t differentiate between short term and long term investments. And that investments in infrastructure are treated as expenditure, not investments.
Yet, for example, I have learnt that Sweden’s uprising economically had everything to do with the building of the railways. Which were financed through the realease of bonds, mostly in Belgium and the Netherlands. And when, about thirty years later, they were repaid, they were worth about a quarter. Both the currency and the interest had gone Sweden’s way. Our fate, and our fortune, is random.

In this interview, finally someone says what I have tried to say. And he says it so clearly, wisely and with such authority.

Our infrastructure should be shared. And treated as an investment. It is NOT an expenditure. Please, dear Auckland consider this.

Good night from Phoenix

 

This a picture of a pigeon walking in Wiltshire Boulevard.

More reports from my tour can be found at Graeme Beattie’s website: http://beattiesbookblog.blogspot.com/. Graeme is more reliable and the updates more prompt than mine… And on his site there is much more to read about New Zealand literature specifically, and literature generally.

 

This is just so wonderful, I am not sure I was even part of it:

http://www.bankingandfinance.com.au/news/2009/1/11/divided-she-stands/

 

 

 

Photo: Kathrin Simon, models Pamela Lamm/ Lisa Taylor

Just when I was ready to resign myself and give up this dream, magic intervened. Well, as is usually the case, behind the magic there was a hardworking, stubborn person: Vanessa Zigliani. And some very visionary people at The Edge. I am forever indebted to them for this opportunity. A dream come true.

Work on a ballet based on my first novel, Astrid & Veronika/Let me sing you gentle songs has been a long held dream, fuelled by my own and some other people’s unwavering enthusiasm in spite of financial obstacles. And here it is, finally under way! In the first stage the concept will now be developed during two workshops presented by The Edge here in Auckland, New Zealand.

Each workshop will provide all involved with an opportunity to come togethere for four intense days, showcasing the result in a public performance on the last day. The first workshop will take place 24-27 June, and the second 21-25 September, both in Auckland Town Hall.

I am very excited - and very, very grateful to the the group of people who have agreed to work together on this project:

the choreographer, Turid Revfeim and the composer Peter Scholes, Kilda Northcott who has agreed to dance the role of Astrid, Claire Scholes who will perform solo song and Pamela Lamm who has accepted to read the voice of Astrid.

Other participating artists will be confirmed shortly.

Vanessa Zigliani of Olsson & Zigliani Consultants will produce the workshops, supported by Sue Paterson and Stephen Blackburn.