Doing the Foundation Course in Music at the West London Institute was just a preliminary step to my going to either one of the Royal Schools of Music in London, or to an undergraduate degree in a university. After some deliberation, I decided on the latter, as I didn’t want to mix with only music students. I went ahead with my applications to a few British universities. At that time it was very difficult for foreign students to obtain local financial aid whilst studying in the UK. My elder brother had also arrived in the UK some months after myself, to pursue an Electronic Engineering course. So I understood the financial burdens placed on my parents. Nevertheless, they told us to go ahead with our studies.

Then as fate would have it, Margaret Thatcher and her Conservative party won the UK general elections, and she became Prime Minister in May 1979. The following year she announced a shocker—university fees for foreign students would be tripled from their present rates. I knew that this would have a serious impact on my parents’ ability to support both myself and my brother (who incidentally, had committed himself to completing his university education in England) Fortunately I happened to be staying with another Malaysian roommate at that time, and this guy was applying to American universities. He shared some facts and info with me, saying that there was a possibility that US universities would offer financial aid to eligible students.

What do you expect, I was barely 20, I was young, I was adventurous, and this seemed like a perfect opportunity to cross the pond (i.e. the Atlantic Ocean) to America. So I went to the local library, did some research on American universities, and sent off some requests for application forms and information (no Internet then, remember? Everything was done by writing letters and mailing them)

Waited for a week or two, and then the application forms came. I applied to quite a diverse mix of universities and music conservatories, including the Eastman School of Music, Julliard, Oberlin, plus the Universities of Arizona, Indiana, Missouri, Texas, Minnesota, and Wisconsin. As I said, quite an eclectic mix. I was told to take the TOEFL and SAT tests (there were centers in London of course) This I did and modesty aside, I obtained pretty good scores. Then I had to send audition tapes of my piano playing to the various universities. In those days, it was all done on reel-to-reel tape—I had to purchase the tapes myself, but fortunately the school kindly consented to let me record my performances in one of the studios. And the sound engineer (Bob, I think) was happy with a pint or two after every session. I then had to mail these tapes to the various institutions.

After some nervous waiting, I received the replies in the mail. Eastman, Julliard, and Indiana said no. Missouri said yes, but was unable to offer financial aid to me. Texas and Minnesota said yes, they’d consider offering me financial aid after I arrived and did another audition—gulp, this was risky. Wisconsin told me to wait, my application for financial aid was still pending and under consideration. But at this time, I couldn’t afford to wait. It was now September 1980 and it was too late to enter for the Fall semester of that year. The only institution that offered me a Fine Arts scholarship on the basis of my taped audition was the University of Arizona. I had to make up my mind before it was too late, so I said yes to them.

The next thing I had to do was to get a US student visa. Not too difficult huh, considering that London had the largest US Embassy in the world at that time. Off I went, and by golly that place was like a fortress—this was just after the recent Iranian hostage crisis in November 1979. I was frisked, and ushered in. I waited for hours and hours to see an officer, and finally what happened was this—they told me that nobody was free to see me then and would I please return again for another appointment? UGH. Yeah, yeah, these things happen. Anyway, I managed to secure my student visa on the next trip, thank goodness.

Now I had to make the travel arrangements. Booked a one-way ticket from London to Los Angeles on Sir Freddie Laker’s Skytrain. I had made arrangements with the University to stay in one of the dorms. There would also be someone meeting me at LAX on arrival (it was something like a voluntary organization for foreign students) to guide me through Immigration and Customs. However, I’d be on my own from LA to Tucson, Arizona.

So one fine winter’s day in January 1981 I boarded a British Rail train from London’s Victoria Station and headed south to Gatwick Airport to catch my flight to the US. As the plane took off, I whispered a sad and fond farewell to England.

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Ah, England, my England. It was the time of punks and skinheads, Margaret Thatcher was about to be elected prime minister, Disco ruled the airwaves, and a young singer named Billy Joel had just had a hit with “Just the way you are.” Those were good years (1978-1980) with warm and relatively dry summers. It was fun and exciting to take in the sights when I had time. Buckingham Palace, The British Museum, Soho, the West End, Harrods, Hyde Park, London Bridge, the list goes on and on. My cousin gave me a London A-Z map book (she said it was one of the first important things somebody new to London should have) and pretty soon I was able to find my way round this huge metropolis. I walked a lot, but so do a lot of the local population, even OAPs (old age pensioners) Contrary to popular belief, the British are quite a friendly lot. It always made me chuckle whenever ladies called me “luv” or “dear,” something that I got used to pretty fast. And the Brits always hold the doors for anyone behind them. Queuing (lining) up was the order of the day.

I liked the fact that many people would be reading something wherever they were. My favorite newsagent would be the local WH Smith (they’ve got branches all over Britain) and I’d be reading the newspapers like The Times, The Guardian, and The Sun (by golly, to see a topless girl every day on page 3—whew!) The first movie I ever saw there was Saturday Night Fever with John Travolta in the lead role. It was a big deal for me because the movie was uncensored; oh I pitied the poor folks back home watching it with huge cuts made by the censors. There was a local Chinese restaurant in nearby Richmond which offered a cheap set lunch for £1, so I frequented that establishment a lot. Most of my weekday lunches were taken at the college cafeteria, I loved stuff like ham omelets, pork pies, cucumber sandwiches, and not forgetting the traditional cup of tea.

My bedsit was just a stone’s throw away from the famous Kew Gardens, so I used to walk over to visit. In those days, it cost only 1 pence to enter the Gardens (now it costs a staggering £13 for an adult!) and there was this one old attendant who got so used to seeing me every day that sometimes he would just wave me to go in, free of charge. When I had the homesick blues I’d go inside the Greenhouse—five or ten minutes inside that sweltering and humid environment and I was ready to come out into the cold air! Oh yes, I got a kick seeing “smoke” coming out of my nostrils every time I breathed out.

No such thing as the Internet in those days, so I had to use snail mail to correspond with my parents and friends. It was nice to receive mail at 7 AM in the mornings, just before I left for school. I’m so spoilt nowadays, I can’t even remember the last time when I wrote a proper letter with pen and paper.

I loved listening to the BBC radio stations, especially Radio 2 (easy listening) and Radio 3 (the Classical channel). Plus Capital Radio, which was my fave for popular music. And the concerts and great programs they had on the tube provided me with some entertainment when I had finished studying. Fortunately, I can listen to all these stations on the Net.

I’ll end this post by saying that I made some great friends in England and again, I was pleasantly surprised that they took me as I was. They never coerced me to drink, or smoke, or whatever. I remember having a Coke or glass of milk at the pub and my friends never laughed or ridiculed me for it. For them, it wasn’t a big deal, and for that I’m grateful. Cheers, mate!

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No doubt about it, the best years of my life were the years I spent abroad, first in the UK, and then in the States. I’ll talk about the UK segment here and reserve the American one for later.

The year was 1978. I was 17, I’d just passed my MCE (Malaysian Certificate Examination, a very important exam for 11th Graders) and was accepted by the West London Institute of Higher Education to do my A-levels in England. The fact that a cousin was studying there provided me with some solace, and I also had two other cousins living within the London area. So that passed off as great news for me—no more daily naggings from my parents, hello independence—yay!

January 1978 found me on board a Singapore Airlines flight en route to London. God, this was exciting! This would be my first time being so far away from home. My parents made sure I had warm clothing; they told me to be prepared for the cold winter weather but you know teenagers, they just shrug it off. Until we landed at Heathrow Airport—my, even the interior of the airport was cold. And when I stepped outside—whoosh! The British winter greeted me with strong winds and some snow. It was daytime but the skies were gloomy, very forlorn in comparison to the sunny Malaysian skies.

My cousin was at the airport to meet me. She had made some advanced accommodation arrangements for me near the college, but I couldn’t move in yet because the room was still occupied. So I stayed in Reading, Berkshire with a friend first. It was good, a time to acclimatize myself with the new environment and weather. A few days passed, and the landlady informed my cousin that the room was ready. It was actually a bedsit (i.e. a room with cooking facilities), the landlady (Mrs. Dunbar, I still remember her name) laid down some ground rules like no loud music after 9 PM, no overnight guests, etc. and then I settled in.

Boy, this was so different from the luxuries I had taken for granted at home! It wasn’t a very big room, but it was comfortable. There was a single bed with a work table beside it. I even had a rocking chair. There was a big cupboard to store my stuff, a lunch table and an electric cooker. I could store frozen food in my landlady’s freezer downstairs and my laundry would have to be done in a launderette. I could use her phone only for local calls (2 pence a call) and please remember, there was no such thing as the Internet, email, instant messaging, whatsoever in those days!

Man, there was like a 1001 things I had to do for myself! I had to open a bank account, I had to know where the post office was, I had to cook for myself, etc. And I had to rely on public transport—the bus, the tube (London Underground subway) and the train system (British Rail, at that time) Did I feel homesick yet? You bet. And every winter’s day would be the same—short daylight hours, with what seemed to be perpetual rain, snow or sleet with strong winds. I was freezing my arse out (of course I never admitted it)

My cousins were very helpful in this respect. One loaned me a small radio (so that at least it wasn’t so deathly quiet in my room), another took me out in his small car for my first meal at, of all places, McDonald’s! At this moment in time I didn’t even know about this burger joint (none existed in Malaysia yet) but I took to the food like a hungry savage! A Big Mac, an apple pie, and a thick strawberry milk shake was like Nirvana for this starving teenager. My own cooking started out abysmally—I actually survived on bread, biscuits, cookies—stuff that I bought at the local supermarkets. My weight must have plummeted. Necessity is the mother of invention, so I had no choice but to learn how to cook. As time went on, I improved, thanks to a rice cooker I procured at home—us Chinese folk probably couldn’t survive without rice. With my stomach now being given more edible food, my spirits returned.

Then it was off to school, and what a difference compared to home! There were students (mostly English) of my age, going around, attending their classes and hanging out; there was music everywhere because I had enrolled in a two-year Foundation Course for Music. At first, I was very shy. Aside from my cousin (who was a year ahead of me) I didn’t know anybody. Fortunately, my English was good. I still remember one day when I was having lunch all by myself in the cafeteria and this one girl, Sarah, came over and asked me very politely whether I wanted to join her group of friends. Gradually I started making new friends, and it snowballed from there.

This post is getting pretty long, so I’ll continue in the next one.

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I love watching American Idol. Have been a fan for the past four seasons; I like the professionalism displayed by everyone involved in the show, but especially the judges. I’m not a singer myself, but I think that the combination of three long-standing judges plus the inclusion of newcomer Kara DioGuardi makes for a good mix. This is how I epitomize the four of them:

• Randy Jackson makes for the “cool” factor in AI. There’s a sense of honesty in what he says, tinged with a little humor at times (like for instance, the “dawg” thing). He’s generally firm in his comments, but without coming over as overbearing. Plus, I don’t know why, but he has a fatherly character about him.
• Paula Abdul is the kind spirit of AI. I think she’s a perfect alkali element compared to the other’s acidic remarks. She does come across as incoherent at times (and a little long-winded) but she does know her stuff. And her on-screen antics with Simon Cowell do provide some comic relief from judging the contestants. Good professionals do disagree; it’s an essential thing in a show like AI. If the judges were to agree with each other all the time, I’d be bored stiff.
• Simon Cowell is my favorite judge, and the main reason why I watch this show. Yes he’s harsh, he’s brutal, he can be downright insulting, but he speaks it like he sees (and hears) it—the truth, as plain as it can be. After all, this is a competition, and a very grueling one at that. You have to be serious when entering this sort of competition. Criticisms can and do hurt, especially when they are hurled at you without mercy by Simon. Nevertheless, he’s absolutely honest and spot-on 99% of the time. And when and if he compliments a contestant, that’s something to relish!
• Kara DioGuardi for me combines the traits of the other three judges into one. We do need people like this at times, people who can react instantly when they see talent, when they see someone fumbling and needs some correction, etc. Compared to Paula Kara speaks to the point, no beating about the bush with her. And she’s gorgeous.
• Last but not least, Ryan Seacrest comes across as the perfect MC of AI. He’s very professional, speaks with an excellent voice, and generally comes across as a friend I’d like to have. His occasional wisecracks with Simon provide some bonus entertainment (I’ll always remember the one when he referred to Simon as Darth Vader). Ryan ably rounds off this quintet of fine people on the show.

As a piano instructor, sometimes I have to be kind and cool, at other times I have to be blunt and speak my mind. It works both ways—criticizing someone for not doing better does hurt, but students do need a little kick now and then to learn from their mistakes. And kindness must be given out within limits, too much and it can seem false and pretentious. The trick is maintaining the equilibrium, and experience has been the best teacher for me so far. Keep the show coming, American Idol. I’m still watching and learning.

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And the hits just keep coming…oops sorry, I meant guest posts. This one is from my good friend Leisa, who lives in Tucson, Arizona with her hubby Randy and their collection of pets. Plus two grown-up lovely daughters. Leisa’s post will tell you how she and I met, but I must say one thing—those were really good times. I’m talking about the early 80s when I was a Freshman at the University of Arizona. Yeah we goofed off, but we did study—hard. I remember those nights when I was in the library until 2 or 3 in the morning and…well I suppose that’s fodder for another blog post. Without any further ado, here’s Leisa’s guest post. Thanks again, my friend!

Hiya!!!!!. My name is Leisa and I am from Tucson, Arizona in the good ‘ole USA. Philip asked me if I would like to do a guest blog and I said sure. I have never done one and so I think this will be lots of fun. I have been friends with Philip since our 1980-1981 year at the University of Arizona. The exact circumstances of our meeting now escape me but that is ok. Suffice it to say we have been good friends for a very loooooooooong time. I was also studying Music at the University of Arizona. Philip and I had a few classes together and some other friends in common. We spent much time hard at the music scores but no matter how much I studied I just never quite got the hang of it. While Philip was just sailing through like on the smooth glass surface of the ocean, I struggled and thrashed around like a fish caught in the fisherman’s net! He has perfect pitch and so ear training was a breeze. So was writing and I so admired his gift. Needless to say, I never quite finished the music program.

However, that never kept us from staying in touch. As I went on to Pima College we always took time out to go to Wendy’s every Friday morning for coffee. We kept each other updated on all the happenings with our classes. We used to occasionally go to one of the large malls here in Tucson (which by the way are bigger now) and enjoy a bit of shopping time. As we passed the piano stores there I used to tell him, "Come on, Philip, show them how it is really done," as I stood and watched the pianist at a keyboard. Philip was always too modest and never took me up on the challenge. I was always certain, however, he was still better than any of them. Well, I will call that good for my first guest blog and next time continue on with Thanksgiving with my family in the USA. God Bless to all and thanks Philip for the opportunity to write a bit of history. Love Leisa

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I’m extremely honored that after some coaxing and persuasion on my part, a dear friend of mind has condescended to guest-write in my blog. Without further ado, here is her post. Enjoy.

Hello! I was asked by my humble friend to guest write in his blog so this is it. I am not very good in writing blogs but as a favor to a dear old friend, here goes. Philip and I met about 16 years ago while working at the same hotel. We have been friends since then although we went our separate ways after some years. We stayed in touch via the good old internet.

I am currently expecting my second child after a gap of 8 years. Due to some circumstances, my husband and I have put off having our second child until now. We are both very excited about it and so is our son who has been bugging us for a sibling. However so, no one can prepare you of the downs of being pregnant. I had to discover it again as the pregnancy went on. I am unfortunately one of those who suffer morning sickness severely. My living room sofa has now become my second bed where I would be on most mornings trying to fight the nausea. What made it worse was an awful taste in my mouth and this has made whatever I eat tasteless. Even my sense of smell has made me dislike my usual favorite dishes. This has also deterred me from cooking as the raw smell of garlic and onions is enough to send me running away as far as I can from it. So on the whole, I have currently been surviving on plain cream crackers and tea.

My husband is a real savior. He has been nothing but an excellent husband and father. In my trying times, he has done everything from the cooking, cleaning and seeing to our son’s well being for us all. He is doing his very best to make me as comfortable as he can for me and I appreciate it every bit. I know that he is tired on certain days as he does have a full time job during the day. And for him to continue doing the house chores after coming back from work without any complaints is more than I can ask for.

So, I guess that’s it for my first blog post, so to speak. Hope that it hasn’t bored anyone to death. Have a good day!

Expectant Mother to Be

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I suppose everybody has one of those weeks where everything is pretty dullsville and nothing exciting is happening. My Monday started off with signs of a cold building up along the horizon. Meh, no problem, I thought—just stock up on the Vitamin C, paracetamol, actifed tablets, tissues, etc. Unfortunately this cold bug (bugger) was a little different, in the sense that it laid wastage to my voice (the last time I experienced this was during my teenage days)—fortunately I’m not a singer. My voice is now 20% of what it used to be, anyway I am having tea with some honey (and yes I know it isn’t good, but the coffee train rolls on) Thank goodness for Windows Live Messenger, a great IM program when it’s working properly (most of the time, must give some kudos to Microsoft) where I don’t have to talk, but type instead.

Speaking of IM programs, I confess I have to eat some humble pie. I have not spoken well of Trillian Astra in the past. What’s Trillian Astra, you ask? It’s a multi-IM client, meaning that if you have contacts using different IM programs, you can let Astra be a supervisor of sorts, incorporating all your WLM, Yahoo, AIM, etc contacts into one basket. I used Trillian 3.1 a long long time ago, and when they announced about going to version 4.0 I was thrilled. However, I didn’t expect Astra 4.0 to be in Alpha for three long years! Man, my patience has a limit, lol. Like waiting for grass to grow. That made me give up on Astra eons ago, and I never thought anymore about it.

Then I was browsing the Net last week and happened to read that Astra had entered into Beta and Trillian was encouraging users to sign up to test it. Like seeing a long-lost girlfriend again, I was enthralled, especially with the way she looked—Trillian must be the Jessica Alba, or Angelina Jolie, or Britney Spears, or (fill in the blank) of the multi-IM world. There’s so much eye-candy that it can be overwhelming at first. I mean, WLM9 doesn’t look half-bad, but when you compare it to this baby—wow! Seduced by the dark side of the Force, I signed up, and they dispatched an email with a download link and token key to me in a blink of an eye. So I download and install Trillian Astra 4.0 and—she’s beautiful. Just look at the screenshots. For a beta product, I’m amazed that most of the features work so well; the sounds are very very cool, and it uses only about 4 MB of system resources on my Pentium 4 computer.

Uh oh, I have to confess again, shucks. I’m not using Astra as a multi-IM client, since 99.9% of my contacts use WLM. I’m not breaking any laws here, am I? It’s my 5th day of using it (they just did an auto upgrade from build 103 to build 104 for me, it was painless) and I’m still enraptured with it. This Pro version times out after 30 days, reverting to the basic version. I don’t know whether I’d shell out $25 to keep the Pro version, I haven’t made up my mind yet. Stay tuned.

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