Photolog: Old Kuching

This was a photo-gathering taken a few weeks back - they've been 3 since, but I've only completed post-processing for this one. The idea for shooting in Old Kuching came about because I figured that I was going to be leaving soon (and yes, that I am) but at the same time I realized Kuching may be fundamentally different when I return. I have had friends who leave and come back to gross capitalism (i.e.: The Spring); what is to say that the Old Kuching I know and love will stay the same? The sampan rides, the uncomfortable coexistence of decay and tourism, smack side-by-side in crowded streets and wide boulevards, would they remain?

I am interested in stories, and in stories of my hometown; this photolog is my first attempt at keeping them.

That's us right there: Garrick, Joash, and Samantha. They were waiting for me to finish with a bunch of dumpsters clumped in an India Street back-alley. Those shot didn't make it past the post-processing stage.

This was taken in Elektra House, which was once the shopping mall in Kuching. I stood by the stairs and imagined a busier, happier time, one where couples sitting on steps actually mattered to the flow of traffic.

He was bored. This particular KFC outlet is from the old core of Kuching, and it stays mostly empty. The ceilings are mushy and aged, the seats tacky pink and green. And there are a lot of them. It isn't hard to imagine the store in better times.

"Uncle, smile!" I say, but he just looks at me, and then at my camera. He sits in that corner for hours - when we stop by for a drink at the open air market, at dusk, still he sits there, immutable, old. What were his dreams, when he was younger? Did he have any? How did he find this corner? These crates? I snap the picture, voice my thanks, but he only nods back at me.

Found in India street. What was it like for our parents, our grandparents? they had no labels, or brands, or ad campaigns to tell them what to buy.

Macaroni and chillis on Gambier Street. Ah, the sweet smell of globalization!

The old market smells of rats, and the ghost of crowds, and memories.

These two men started a conversation as soon as they pulled up to the Old Market jetty. Between them, the girl was texting someone else.

"Don't give it to them" Garrick told me.
"Why not?"
"They can find work on their own."
I looked at them, and then back at him. "They're BLIND, Garrick."

The crest at the top of the Old Post Office bears the legend Dum Spiro Spero: While I Live, I Hope. I was telling my aunt about it, and my grandfather overheard: "You know what it means?!" he interrupted.
"Yes." I said. "How do you know?"
My grandfather pauses, and smiles. "When I was in Primary 2, in St Thomas, they taught us what it meant."
Dammit, the colonialists had taste.

These men were kicking a ball and a bottle, amongst other things, outside this convenience shop. They looked happy enough.

This photolog was shot on Gawai, and the men you see here were longboating upriver. Twenty minutes later they left where they came from, but not after cleaning their boat and cooling themselves with the river water. Sam was horrified.

Kuching is a beautiful city. I will miss it.

The Bob Review

Folks, meet ... Bob:

Yes, Bob is a 13-inch unibody Macbook, and no, I didn't choose the name. As I remember it, I didn't even have a say in the matter ... and now the Bob's Bob regardless of what I do say. But anyway. I've been fiddling with the Macbook for a couple of weeks now, doing the expected new-laptop things like installing fancy unneeded programs, changing the desktop background once every two days, and fiddling with the folder structure to figure out where to my torrents documents go; plus et all, etc etc. But if you own a laptop, and you are a geek (as I am) then it's very likely that you've already gone through such a phase ... and so in which case you can now nod along with me in mutual understanding and ignore the confused looks of everyone else who haven't yet gotten to the heartwarming and ultimately grown-up stage of owning your own computer. Which I now have. Grown up. 3 weeks ago. Yes.

The Macbook looks great, both from above, with the screen closed, and in use, with the lid up and the laptop in front of you. The body's solid aluminium, finished in this wonderful metallic sheen, and there are almost no ridges or grooves anywhere on the notebook apart from the battery-compartment release, which is below the body, and the thumbscoop at the very front of the Macbook. There's also this acrylic Apple logo up top that lights up when the Macbook's in use, and smudges over when it's not; I particular enjoy rubbing it to see my fingerprints warp over the plastic and then wipe it clean, and then rub it again to wipe it clean to rub it again, and so on so forth. Not so much when that happens on the glass screen, but that's getting ahead of myself.

The 'unibody' designation means that this Macbook was build from one solid block of aluminium, which was lasered out and washed, and then fitted with electronics directly mounted onto the unibody itself. Apple claims that the unibody allows them to make lighter and tougher Macbooks, and thus far they seem to right on one count: this laptop's the lightest I've ever carried, even when compared to the other polycarbonate Macbooks my friends own; and it feels rock solid. But tough it isn't, not really: based on anecdotal evidence the unibody Macbook cannot survive a forceful drop on gravel, and where a polycarbonate body would - at worse - be cracked, the danger in this case would be for the Macbook to dent, damaging the mounted Logicboard in the process. (There's also been a lot of complaints that the unibody dents easily, so I'm now hunting for a good sleeve/laptop bag.)

Another minor complaint is the display itself. The Macbook's screen is covered with a sheet of glass, and the LED-backlit display is absolutely fantastic for watching movies or doing photograpy-related post-processing. Apple promises the best colour reproduction money can buy ... and on that front, at least, the Macbook does not disappoint. Colours practically pop off screen and onto your lap, and it's pretty hard for photographs to look bad on the Macbook display - it's just too bright, too polished, and too beautiful for anything to look particularly ugly. But the downside to this fidelity is that the Macbook's screen is also very glossy. And when I say glossy, I don't just mean glare - glare's something you get from, say, iPod screens. When I say glossy I mean that the whole Macbook display is a mirror in itself, and whenever you turn the backlight down your face practically pops onscreen the exact same way the colours did a couple minutes before. In this way, at least, you get to preen right before and after you use the Macbook, making this computer possibly the most narcissistic thing I have ever owned.

A review about a Macbook is also - essentially - a review about Apple's software, and this review won't be complete without talking a little about how it feels to live, and work, with OSX. If there ever is a reason for you to get a Macintosh computer, OSX is it. It's hard to describe the joy of the platform to a Windows user, or how OSX gently changes the way you think about computers, but here's my best shot: the Mac is fun. It's fast, for starters, meaning anything and everything you throw at it would still run faster than on a Windows machine; it's stable - meaning it almost never crashes; it's easy to use - printers, mice and internet connections are all basically plug and play, and then drag and drop; and then there's Expose ... which is God's gift to the OCD multitasker. There are a hundred and one things that work together to make the Mac environment more fun to use than a Windows machine, but the space here is limited ... so allow me to toss you just one example of how a Mac is better than Windows: program installation.

In Windows, installing a program feels like planting a tree, where the program puts down roots into the depths of your system. When you uninstall that program, you uproot the tree ... and you leave behind bits of root and bark, stuck in dark places like your program files folder and the system registry. Mac's program installation is drag and drop, and it feels less like planting a tree than it does like inviting a guest to stay in your home. The guest comes with his briefcases all packed, and he's happy to do what he does because everything he needs is in the briefcases he brings along with him. And the best thing about it? You can shift the guest anyhow you like within your house, or even kick him out ... and he works just as fine, whichever way you like it. Uninstallation on Mac? Drag the program icon to your bin and click empty. And within seconds, your program is gone.

On to writing, that activity that consumes about 70% of my computer time: typing on the Macbook is wonderful. The unibody Macbook's keys are black against the aluminium indent that holds them, and they're tactile and wonderful to the fingers ... at once familiar and foreign, and unlike any other keyboard I've touched before. Two years ago, while working on The Square with a Macbook, I complained about the keyboard spacing to Tay, who has one. He scoffed and told me that I didn't know what I was talking about. And I didn't. This keyboard - black plastic and curved corners and rounded tops - is the pinnacle of keyboard engineering, and I now love it to bits.

Note the edges: they're really sharp.

Two other things I must point out: the unibody Macbook's palm rest is 90 degrees of sharp aluminium, and it cuts into your wrists as you type. This is probably the worst design element of the product, and it isn't noticeable when you're trying it out in stores because you're standing while you're typing and the angle of your fingers are such that your wrists don't actually come in contact with the edges. But if you write a lot, like I do, you'll find that the Macbook's palm rest is as unforgiving as a bed of nettles to a naked ass, and probably just as painful.

Secondly, OSX doesn't treat mice and cursors the same way Windows does, and I found the cursor movement with my Logitech Laser mouse to be less consistent and somewhat jerky as compared to the built-in glass trackpad. The problem turns out to be Apple's handling of the mouse acceleration curve in OSX - things that are supposed to be smooth are not, and the speed from which I can jerk the mouse is rather inconsistent with the way I know mice are supposed to behave. The answer? Third party, firmware-level software, and my mouse now gives me the performance I expect of it.

Conclusion? I love my Macbook, and I think it's a good buy regardless of the few flaws I've shown you above. Would I recommend it to you? Absolutely not. Six days after I ordered my Macbook Apple announced a new line of Macbook Pros, the cheapest of which effectively became the replacement to my Macbook - only faster, cheaper, and with a cutting-edge 7-hour battery attached. So go get that one, instead.

And as for me? I'm happy with Bob, and I'm happy with the way Bob's been treating me lately. It's hard not to be happy when you've got a sexy, curvy little thing sitting by your bed for the past 3 weeks. And if this can be described a relationship, then I suppose you'd say that I'm still trying to get her to sleep with me ... but rest assured that Bob and I currently sleep on two different beds - me in mine and her on my table. And in the dark, when I'm about to turn in for the night and there's a splinter of moonlight across the room, I see the warm, silver glow of her curves ... and I tell myself, hell, I'm one lucky guy.

Trust me on this one: I think I'm in love.