Lantau Cable Care hike: where to start

The hiking trail along the Lantau cable car (Ngong Ping 360) is one of my favorite hikes in Hong Kong. Lovely views, good exercise, rewarding fresh water streams, lots of wooden steps (easy on the knees).
The destination isn't so bad either -- you look forward to refueling at Ngong Ping after the climb. And of course, The Gallery is just a 10 minute cab ride away.

Here is how to get to the start of the hike from Tung Chung MTR (about a 2 km walk; the total distance is just shy of 8km).

If you have GPS, then no need to read past this (unless you have time on your hands and an un-discerning eye for photographic talent):

View Larger Map

MTR Exit B and take a left past the Subway.

Walk past the Pizza Hut on your right. Resist the urge to stop and line your stomach with indigestible grease.

Walk past the driveway and take a right down this path.

Before this stretch ends, you'll see arrows to the left. Follow.

Come out of the tunnel, and take a right and then left up this stretch.

Follow the arrows to the right this time.

Can't miss the arrow.

Follow the path till...

... you come to a foot-bridge. Go up and straight across.

Continue on straight.

Go around the next foot-bridge.

Appreciate the view of the water (and airport).

Behold your destination (the first climb).

Before the end of this stretch, take a right...

... toward Hau Wong Temple...

... and steps down.

Left at the bottom.

Follow straight through.

Now right toward Hau Wong Temple.

Take a left and straight past the soccer field on your right. Marvel at your determination to climb the hill before you.

Bridge over untroubled water.

Stick to the meandering path.

Spot some crabs.

Philosophize.

The hike starts up these steps on the left.
If you miss it, should you really be out without adult supervision?

Consider the map. Tower 5's helipad is my favorite sun-set, picnic, yoga spot in HK.

Make sure you haven't lost the baby.

That's it folks. Once you've made it to the start, follow your nose to the Big Buddha. The other way to get down (besides walking up over Lantau Peak) is to take a bus or taxi. No buses after sun-down, so make sure you have the Lantau taxi numbers.

Hot or cool?

It is often said that 'hot' and 'cool', in the context of Zeitgeist, mean the same thing. This is not at all the case.

Cool is so-laid-back-it's-almost-horizontal. Cool is aloof and arrogant: it is dismissive puff of the late-night cigarette under the dim streetlamp, the slight twist of the eyebrow, the stifled yawn and the curl of the lip. Cool, you can say with a sneer, just is, and always will be. Cool is dismissive. It is tangible, it is heavenly, but it so terribly calm.

Hot is another game entirely. Hot is a lustful spark that ignites; it burns swiftly, brightly, and then is gone. Hot is in the moment, of the moment, blink-and-you-missed-it; it takes you by surprise and turns your life upside down: you'd better jump on board or you'll be left trailing in its fiery wake. Hot is bright lights and absinthe and pumping adrenaline. Hot makes you want to stand on rooftops and shout into the red-hot night.

Cool is admired. Envied, even. But hot is a love affair.

GQ 9.11

The Unsuccessful Couple

A successful man is one who makes more money than his wife can spend.
A successful woman is one who can find such a man.

- Lana Turner

Yes, we are an unsuccessful couple. I was wondering what was missing all these years. Now at least we know what to aim for. Though it seems like I have more options, i.e. I can either make more money or find a wife that spends less. But Mehvesh is stuck with her man. Oh, wait! I think that argument goes both ways. Ugh. Dog house tonight.

KL in a day, or two - Eena

Eena wrote this out for Adnan. Had to save it for future reference and for peeps to enjoy! Thanks Eena.

Welcome to KL!!!

For breakfast (local and western) go to the Coliseum Cafe and Hotel at 100 Jalan Tunku Abdul Rahman. You can reach it by LRT at the Bandaraya stop. It's a golden oldie and feels like you've been transported back 100 years ago! People love the singapore beehoon here. After breakfast walk to the Central Market via the Jamek mosque (the confluence of the two rivers here is where KL was founded. The Central Market was a wet market decades ago but is now where you can browse for some local handicraft. Look for the Annexe Gallery and check out the small exhibits there. You can browse around this area to see the old side of KL where little india is located. Pick up some fish crackers called keropok lekor from the hawkers outside Central Market to keep you going. There is a famous Hindu temple here if you want to explore.

Now head to Bukit bintang street for some shopping malls to keep you cool and out of the sun during lunch. Lots of food choices here all along the street. There is also an art gallery featuring more local artists at the top of the Starhill Gallery mall.

In the evening provided that it doesn't rain,'consider heading to Chinatown on Petaling Street for the atmosphere and fake goods that the vendors try to peddle.

On Sunday consider walking around the lake gardens and visiting the Islamic arts museum for the breakfast which starts at 10am. Ppl say the food is good and the museum has some interesting exhibits. In the vicinity also are the bird park. If you don't feel like breakfast at the museum you can look for the Tanglin hawker stall in the area and have the Tanglin Nasi Lemak. Nasi Lemak is a rice dish every Malaysian eats for breakfast and other meals on the day. You can then visit the KL twin towers and the park below it and have some Char Kway Teow at the Penang Village restaurant in the twin towers shopping mall for lunch.

If you feel adventurous you can explore the Kampung Baru area which was originally a village outside of downtown but has since been surrounded by the city and highways. Here you can see some old Malay village style houses on stilts. You can try the Nasi Lemak here too at the stall called Nasi Lemak antarabangsa. You can try other malay food in the area too.

At all times do be careful of pickpockets. And if taking taxis insist on using the meter otherwise if negotiating then nothing should cost more than RM20. But if staying around the city it should be fine to walk or take the LRT everywhere. Only the lake gardens and museum area is off from the LRT.

Good luck and have fun exploring!!!

7 Moves That Will Make You a Better Dad - By Craig Playstead

Tips for raising happy, well-adjusted kids.

By Craig Playstead

1. Dig deeper

A nice house, cool clothes, and grub on the table just aren't enough. Providing for our kids is in our DNA, but how well do you know yours? Do you know who your kids play with at recess? What subject they really struggle with? What they love to eat for hot lunch? If you don't know these things, you need to. While all of us are busy as hell with work and everything else in our lives, we need to make time for our kids and get to really know them -- especially the odd, everyday things that make them tick. I make it a point to talk with my kids about what happened at recess before asking about what happened in class. I want to know about the relationships they're forging, and also what they're up to with their only free time of the day. It's not easy to get this from them. But here's a fun way to spend a little time with them that they'll think is awesome: When your son or daughter is standing at the bus stop ready to be picked up for school, drive up, stop, and tell them to get in. Kidnap them for breakfast and they'll think it's the coolest thing ever. When kids are really impressed or excited by something (like this) there's a much better chance of them opening up and telling you about their lives. Don't preach, don't gasp, just listen.

2. Teach your kids to stand tall

One of the most important things a father needs to teach his kids is how to stand up for themselves. You will not get far in this world if you become a doormat, and the longer you let it happen, the harder it is to turn it around. This can be anything from just learning how to speak up in class, or confronting someone who's being unfair to them. Our offspring need to be heard, defend what they believe in, and not be bullied. Yes, we want them to be nice and to treat people well, but there is also a time to be assertive instead of like a punching bag. Teaching them how to do all this in a scary world is one of the basic duties of being a father.

3. Get off your rear

While we may be proud of our lecturing skills, most of the time when we talk all our kids hear is, "Blah, blah, blah." So that makes our actions even more important. You can tell the kids that it's important to be healthy and active, but if all they ever see you do is sit on the couch shoveling Doritos into your mouth as you watch "Celebrity Rehab," they're going to do the exact same thing. Kids should always be learning, exploring and trying new things. It's all part of how they find out what they're passionate about and who they are.

Dads can help fuel this exploration by doing the same thing; getting involved in new sports, musical instruments, and activities. This keeps dads fresh and active, and also shows kids that it's cool to try new things. Want to crank up the enthusiasm? Get junior's buddy and his dad in the game too -- kids will do almost anything if their friends are involved. If you want to start golfing, make it a foursome and it'll be even more fun.

4. Prepare for your death

This should be something that I shouldn't even have to write, but it's amazing how many men skip this to save a buck. We can all sit here and think that it's not going to happen to us, but death happens to dads every day. Protecting your family should be number-one on your responsibilities list as a father. If you're not taking care of your family you run the risk of ruining their lives if the worst should happen. This encompasses a lot, including having a life insurance policy and a will, and knowing who's going to be there to teach your son about being a man. Another aspect of this is keeping yourself healthy with regular physicals and, for God's sake, exercise. I used to work out to look better, but now it's all about longevity. My ultimate goal is to live long enough to make sure my daughter doesn't marry some jackass. They don't say "hope for the best and prepare for the worst" for nothing.

5. No worshipping heroes

There are parents out there who absolutely worship their kids and think they can do no wrong. But those kids will grow up with a distorted view of how the world works. Every parent should love the hell out of their children, but thinking that they are flawless is setting all of you up for disaster. The kids end up with unreal expectations on how the world works, don't understand defeat, and can't figure out why everyone doesn't think they walk on water. And the parents end up devastated when you finally come to the realization that little Tony actually is capable of throwing his classmate into the girls' bathroom or stealing the neighbor's mail. We all have flaws, and there's nothing wrong with that. Let them learn to deal with the disappointment of losing, and even the brilliance of constructive criticism. It'll prepare them for the real world.

6. Remember why you married her

I've said this before, but a lot of people still scratch their head when I do. One of the best (if not the best) things you can do for your kids is to be a good husband to their mother. This can be difficult to do, but it just might be the most important item on the list. We pay so much attention to not screwing up our kids that we sometimes neglect the one relationship that plays the biggest role in the person they turn out to be. And if you're divorced, remember that the way you treat their mother will have an enormous impact. It will help them respect her, and also show them how to deal with challenging relationships as they get older.

7. Imitate Clark W. Griswold

Clark was on to something when he loaded up the family truckster and headed west to Wally World. A couple times a year, we all need to bust out of that rut that our daily routine puts us in -- and getting out of Dodge is the only cure. It's not just us either; every member of the family needs to get away and put a little adventure back in their life. As painful as the family vacation can be while it's happening (with the constant potty breaks, spilled juice boxes, and annoying comments from the backseat), I run into more adults who claim that vacations were the parts about their childhood that they'll never forget. It doesn't have to be expensive -- you don't have to go far -- you just need to have a family experience to remember, for better or worse.

200 Things to Do with Linux

For the 200th issue of Linux Journal, they did a virtual “man on the street” interview with the Web site readers, asking what things they do with Linux.

1. Actually work instead of waiting for reboots.—Tim Chase

2. Add extra monitors.—LJ Staff

3. Analyse water level and precipitation data.—Keith Nunn

4. Analysis of remote sensing imagery.—Micha Silver

5. Antagonize Windows users.—John Abbott

6. Anything I need, since 1994.—Manuel Trujillo

7. As the basis for FOSS conferences.—moose

8. Audio chat.—LJ Staff

9. Automate tasks with bash.—Dusty Roberson

10. Avoid using Microsoft Windows!—Simon Quantrill, Chris Szilagyi

11. Be a freelance writer.—Carl Fink

12. Be part of a revolution.—max

13. Be part of the Linux community.—Clifford Garwood II, Rodney Shinkfield

14. Be productive.—Petros Koutoupis

15. Block Web sites.—LJ Staff

16. Blog.—LJ Staff

17. Blow people’s minds.—djystn brimr

18. Bond Ethernet channels.—LJ Staff

19. Boot a live CD.—Tim Kissane

20. Browse the Internet virus-free.—ali

21. Bubble sort.—LJ Staff

22. Build an arcade center.—Kris Occhipinti

23. Build a robot.—LJ Staff

24. Build Asterisk telephone switches.—Mike Synnott

25. Build self-assembling/healing wireless mesh networks.—Ivan Ivanov

26. Build smart appliances.—Tom Gilley

27. Build solutions.—Wilhem Gonzalez

28. Burn CDs and DVDs.—LJ Staff

29. Carry it in my pocket.—Sean Pratz

30. cat stuff to /dev/audio.—Michael Hadam

31. Check e-mail from the command line.—LJ Staff

32. Code, code and code.—Jeff Boschee

33. Combine the power of xargs and MPlayer.—Javier Rojas Balderrama

34. Communicate with other consciences. —Angela Kahealani

35. Compile a kernel.—LJ Staff

36. Compile Windows programs.—LJ Staff

37. Compose music.—LJ Staff

38. Compress data.—LJ Staff

39. Conduct penetration testing.—Anthony Moore

40. Control embedded systems.—Mike Lerley

41. Control my data.—Dieter Plaetinck

42. Control servers from my N900.—Gunder johansen

43. Control space ground network for satellite communications.—Vidar Tyldum

44. Control XBMC from another room and freak out your kids by changing the video that’s playing.—LJ Staff

45. Convert units of measure.—LJ Staff

46. Convert video.—LJ Staff

47. Create and edit videos.—Elmer Perry

48. Create your own PBX.—LJ Staff

49. Customize with compiz.—okiwan

50. Debug ncurses code.—Alexander Cox

51. Delete all the GPS location data from images.—Stuart

52. Dent.—LJ Staff

53. Develop Arduino gadgets.—Eric Schug

54. Do development work for the pike language. —Lance Dillon

55. Do multilingual work.—Jonathan Abolins

56. Download back episodes.—john bosco

57. Dual-boot.—LJ Staff

58. Edit photographs.—Tarek Ahmed, Jim Peterson, DANiel Asselin

59. Edit the programing environment.—bhanupriya jena

60. Enjoy 1,000 days of uptime!—Ted Behling

61. Everyday tasks.—Patrick Dunn

62. Everything.—Philippe Godin, Lucas Westermann

63. Explore all the open-source apps.—Magesh

64. Explore source code.—Yash Datta

65. Explore various tools.—Bhupesh Chawda

66. Explore what Linux is made of.—Sriharsha

67. Feel the freedom.—hasintha, Risman

68. Filter spam.—LJ Staf

69. Fix Windows machines.—Scott Boucher, Detron Phillips, Stan Hearn

70. Geocache.—Buster Stone

71. Gloat when colleagues reboot Windows.—Kanwar Plaha

72. Grep the heck out of everything!—mixtape

73. Hack a Gibson.—LJ Staff

74. Hack an e-book reader.—LJ Staff

75. Hack everything.—Bart Friederichs

76. Hack your phone.—LJ Staff

77. Hang around various IRC networks.—dewey

78. Hijack Facebook on my wife.—Jon Elofson

79. Home music studio.—David Trombly

80. Home server.—Eric Gamache

81. Host your own blog.—BaloneyGeek

82. Impress girls with the command line.—Tim Kissane

83. Install apps from terminal.—M. Taylor

84. Install a RADIUS server.—LJ Staff

85. Install Boxee.—LJ Staff

86. Install on exotic hardware.—Jed Dale

87. Instant message/chat.—Josh

88. Launch a (USB) missle.—LJ Staff

89. Learn.—Andrew Frame

90. Learn C, C++, PHP, Python, Tcl/Tk, etc.—LJ Staff

91. Learn new technologies.—cga

92. Learn operating systems.—Alex Link

93. Link VHF radios using Internet.—Gustavo Conrad

94. Listen to music.—LJ Staff

95. Listen to podcasts.—LJ Staff

96. Load balance with round-robin DNS.—LJ Staff

97. Log on to Windows and remove IE.—Kartik Mistry

98. Make affordable technology solutions.—nettie feldman

99. Make a living.—Doug Roberts, cbleslie, Woody

100. Make free phone calls.—LJ Staff

101. Make my terminal window transparent.—Josiah Ritchie

102. Make non-Linux users jealous.—T.J. Domingue

103. Make videos of my desktop.—Praveen Kumar Singh

104. Make your computer look like Windows or OS X.—LJ Staff

105. Manipulate data with Python and shell.—Darrell Collins

106. Multitask.—Samuel Huang

107. Not waste my time rebuilding systems.—Jim Wallace

108. Parse weather data.—Xiao Haozi

109. Partition and format my hard drive.—Samsuddin Wira

110. Pay my bills securely on-line.—J. E. Aneiros

111. Photo management system with digiKam.—Fri13

112. Play a game.—LJ Staff

113. Play Commander Keen.—Terry Letsche

114. Play console emulators.—LJ Staff

115. Play SCummVM games.—LJ Staff

116. Play with Compiz Fusion.—Oleg Shmelyov

117. Play with OSes in VirtualBox.—Kousik Maiti

118. Pretend to be a Windows server.—LJ Staff

119. Provide services for Windows.—Gene Liverman

120. Proxy through SSH tunnel.—Scott Schafer

121. PXE boot GeeXboX.—Jeremy Kepler

122. Read a book.—LJ Staff

123. Read comics.—Neal Murphy

124. Read the boot sequence.—José Filipe

125. Read the digital edition of Linux Journal. —John Abbott

126. Record and watch TV.—Cory Lievers

127. Record, edit and publish a podcast about Linux. —Larry Bushey

128. Record HDTV with MythTV.—David Miller

129. Recover my girlfriend’s data.—Arun SAG

130. Rejuvenate a sluggish computer.—Andrea Zygmunt

131. Render fractals.—LJ Staff

132. Render video content.—Erin Bournival

133. Research and analyze baseball.—Sid Finch

134. Revolutionize healthcare.—Fred Trotter

135. Rip audio from streaming radio.—Galen Gish

136. Rip YouTube videos.—LJ Staff

137. Root around a Windows computer.—Ben Pratt

138. Run a beer fermentation cooler.—LJ Staff

139. Run a feature-rich Web site with Drupal. —Jim Caruso

140. Run an embedded server (where Windows failed).—Ryan Kirkpatrick

141. Run a proxy for my friend in China.—DavidWC

142. Run Lotus Notes version 8.—David Vasta

143. Run mutt and irssi in a screen session. —Matthew Cengia

144. Run my home family network.—Zak_Neutron

145. Run my whole house.—Robert White

146. Run Radiance daylight simulations in Amazon’s EC. —Severn Clay-Youman

147. Run the sound system at the chapel I attend. —Irving Risch

148. Run Windows in VirtualBox.—Happy Hacker

149. Run XBMC on your TV.—LJ Staff

150. Run Xen hypervisor.—Joe Cortes

151. Save infected Windows machines.—Paul Bucalo

152. Save people’s info with Linux.—Lee Schmid

153. Search for aliens.—LJ Staff

154. Search for Mersenne Primes.—Ted Behling

155. Serve a Web page.—LJ Staff

156. Set up a distro mirror.—LJ Staff

157. Set up a VPN.—LJ Staff

158. Set up my system for perfect productivity. —Justin Christian

159. Set up MythTV.—Patrick Bulteel

160. Share Linux with other people.—Rob Haag

161. Shell scripts.—Hieu, Nghiem Ba

162. Show it to my friends.—Dale Rooney

163. Show off my desktop.—Sum Yung Gai

164. Show people cool software.—Rob Hooft

165. Sniff packets.—LJ Staff

166. Solve for Pi (okay, probably not).—LJ Staff

167. Sort your DVD library.—LJ Staff

168. ssh to remote systems.—Bharathi Subramanian

169. Stream Netflix via Roku.—LJ Staff

170. Surf the Web, text, play silly games on my Motorola Droid!—Todd Blake

171. Talk to Amateur radio operators.—Jeff Hanscom

172. Teach Linux.—shrinivasan

173. Teach operating system concepts. —satyaakam goswami, Esteban Arias

174. Time your tea steeping.—LJ Staff

175. tracepath/traceroute.—Gjorgji Taskovski

176. Transmit audio casts.—carlos gomes

177. Try as many different distros as possible. —Carlo van Rijswijk

178. Try interesting apps.—Abhishek Tiwary

179. Tweet.—LJ Staff

180. Type top and press Enter.—Roshan Baladhanvi

181. Use a 9+ year-old computer.—Gumnos

182. Use GnuCash.—Peter Anderton

183. Use Linux as a thin-client server.—Tim Strickland

184. Use Linux to fix computers.—Bob Ivie

185. Use multiple virtual desktops.—LJ Staff

186. Video chat.—LJ Staff

187. Watch HD movies.—Vangelis Nonas

188. Watch Linux Journal videos!—LJ Staff

189. Watch TV with MythBuntu.—Todd Fowler

190. Watch video RSS with Miro.—David Crews

191. Web hosting.—Jared Moore

192. We like to have it with some funk!—Hedda, Anna and Maxim

193. Wiggle windows with Compiz.—LJ Staff

194. Work mobile or static.—Divakar Ramachandran

195. Work on my Web site.—charles snider

196. Write poetry in shell scripts.—Hani Saigh

197. Write programs.—ttylinux

198. Write Python code.—svaksha

199. Write Web pages that Internet Explorer can’t display.—LJ Staff

200. Write with OpenOffice.org.—Jeremy LaCroix

Potty Girl

I'm a potty girl, in the potty world

Life in pampies, it's fantastic!

you can wipe my poop, change me everywhere

Imagination, life is your creation

Come on baby, let's go potty!

How to make a woman happy

It's not difficult to make a woman happy. A man only needs to be:

1. A friend

2. A companion

3. A lover

4. A brother

5. A father

6. A master

7. A chef

8. An electrician

9. A carpenter

10. A plumber

11. A mechanic

12. A decorator

13. A stylist

14. A sexologist

15. A gynaecologist

16. A psychologist

17. A pest exterminator

18. A psychiatrist

19. A healer

20. A good listener

21. An organizer

22. A good father

23. Very clean

24. Sympathetic

25. Athletic

26. Warm

27. Attentive

28. Gallant

29. Intelligent

30. Funny

31. Creative

32. Tender

33. Strong

34. Understanding

35. Tolerant

36. Prudent

37. Ambitious

38. Capable

39. Courageous

40. Determined

41. True

42. Dependable

43. Passionate

44. Compassionate

WITHOUT FORGETTING TO:

45. Give her compliments regularly

46. Love shopping

47. Be honest

48. Be very rich

49. Not stress her out

50. Not look at other girls

AND AT THE SAME TIME, YOU MUST ALSO:

51. Give her lots of attention, but expect little yourself

52. Give her lots of time, especially time for herself

53. Give her lots of space, never worrying about where she goes

IT IS VERY IMPORTANT:

54. Never to forget:

* birthdays

* anniversaries

* arrangements she makes

HOW TO MAKE A MAN HAPPY

1. Leave him alone

Burkini maybe?

"Not another one...", I thought to myself when I saw the title of this article, expecting another tirade from a flag-bearer of an anachronistic agenda and lacking any grasp on the reality of the world we live in. But here is a touching story of a mother who's trying to figure out how to protect her daughter while giving her daughter space to explore and discover herself. Hmm... how would I react if my daughter wanted to wear a burka -- or a bikini. Ground her for life! Ha! Well, she's due today, so I'll know in a few years inshallah. ;)

Bikini or headscarf -- which offers more freedom?

Nine years ago, I danced my newborn daughter around my North Carolina living room to the music of "Free to Be...You and Me", the '70s children's classic whose every lyric about tolerance and gender equality I had memorized as a girl growing up in California.

My Libyan-born husband, Ismail, sat with her for hours on our screened porch, swaying back and forth on a creaky metal rocker and singing old Arabic folk songs, and took her to a Muslim sheikh who chanted a prayer for long life into her tiny, velvety ear.

She had espresso eyes and lush black lashes like her father's, and her milky-brown skin darkened quickly in the summer sun. We named her Aliya, which means "exalted" in Arabic, and agreed we would raise her to choose what she identified with most from our dramatically different backgrounds.

I secretly felt smug about this agreement -- confident that she would favor my comfortable American lifestyle over his modest Muslim upbringing. Ismail's parents live in a squat stone house down a winding dirt alley outside Tripoli. Its walls are bare except for passages from the Quran engraved onto wood, its floors empty but for thin cushions that double as bedding at night.

My parents live in a sprawling home in Santa Fe with a three-car garage, hundreds of channels on the flat-screen TV, organic food in the refrigerator, and a closetful of toys for the grandchildren.

I imagined Aliya embracing shopping trips to Whole Foods and the stack of presents under the Christmas tree, while still fully appreciating the melodic sound of Arabic, the honey-soaked baklava Ismail makes from scratch, the intricate henna tattoos her aunt drew on her feet when we visited Libya. Not once did I imagine her falling for the head covering worn by Muslim girls as an expression of modesty.

Last summer we were celebrating the end of Ramadan with our Muslim community at a festival in the parking lot behind our local mosque. Children bounced in inflatable fun houses while their parents sat beneath a plastic tarp nearby, shooing flies from plates of curried chicken, golden rice, and baklava.

Aliya and I wandered past rows of vendors selling prayer mats, henna tattoos, and Muslim clothing. When we reached a table displaying head coverings, Aliya turned to me and pleaded, "Please, Mom -- can I have one?"

She riffled through neatly folded stacks of headscarves while the vendor, an African-American woman shrouded in black, beamed at her. I had recently seen Aliya cast admiring glances at Muslim girls her age.

I quietly pitied them, covered in floor-length skirts and long sleeves on even the hottest summer days, as my best childhood memories were of my skin laid bare to the sun: feeling the grass between my toes as I ran through the sprinkler on my front lawn; wading into an icy river in Idaho, my shorts hitched up my thighs, to catch my first rainbow trout; surfing a rolling emerald wave off the coast of Hawaii. But Aliya envied these girls and had asked me to buy her clothes like theirs. And now a headscarf.

In the past, my excuse was that they were hard to find at our local mall, but here she was, offering to spend ten dollars from her own allowance to buy the forest green rayon one she clutched in her hand. I started to shake my head emphatically "no," but caught myself, remembering my commitment to Ismail. So I gritted my teeth and bought it, assuming it would soon be forgotten.

That afternoon, as I was leaving for the grocery store, Aliya called out from her room that she wanted to come.

A moment later she appeared at the top of the stairs -- or more accurately, half of her did. From the waist down, she was my daughter: sneakers, bright socks, jeans a little threadbare at the knees. But from the waist up, this girl was a stranger. Her bright, round face was suspended in a tent of dark cloth like a moon in a starless sky.

"Are you going to wear that?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said slowly, in that tone she had recently begun to use with me when I state the obvious.

On the way to the store, I stole glances at her in my rearview mirror. She stared out the window in silence, appearing as aloof and unconcerned as a Muslim dignitary visiting our small Southern town -- I, merely her chauffeur.

I bit my lip. I wanted to ask her to remove her head covering before she got out of the car, but I couldn't think of a single logical reason why, except that the sight of it made my blood pressure rise. I'd always encouraged her to express her individuality and to resist peer pressure, but now I felt as self-conscious and claustrophobic as if I were wearing that headscarf myself.

In the Food Lion parking lot, the heavy summer air smothered my skin. I gathered the damp hair on my neck into a ponytail, but Aliya seemed unfazed by the heat. We must have looked like an odd pair: a tall blonde woman in a tank top and jeans cupping the hand of a four-foot-tall Muslim. I drew my daughter closer and the skin on my bare arms prickled -- as much from protective instinct as from the blast of refrigerated air that hit me as I entered the store.

As we maneuvered our cart down the aisles, shoppers glanced at us like we were a riddle they couldn't quite solve, quickly dropping their gaze when I caught their eye.

In the produce aisle, a woman reaching for an apple fixed me with an overly bright, solicitous smile that said "I embrace diversity and I am perfectly fine with your child." She looked so earnest, so painfully eager to put me at ease, that I suddenly understood how it must feel to have a child with an obvious disability, and all the curiosity or unwelcome sympathies from strangers it evokes.

At the checkout line, an elderly Southern woman clasped her bony hands together and bent slowly down toward Aliya. "My, my," she drawled, wobbling her head in disbelief. "Don't you look absolutely precious!" My daughter smiled politely, then turned to ask me for a pack of gum.

In the following days, Aliya wore her headscarf to the breakfast table over her pajamas, to a Muslim gathering where she was showered with compliments, and to the park, where the moms with whom I chatted on the bench studiously avoided mentioning it altogether.

Later that week, at our local pool, I watched a girl only a few years older than Aliya play Ping-Pong with a boy her age. She was caught in that awkward territory between childhood and adolescence -- narrow hips, skinny legs, the slightest swelling of new breasts -- and she wore a string bikini.

Her opponent wore an oversize T-shirt and baggy trunks that fell below his knees, and when he slammed the ball at her, she lunged for it while trying with one hand to keep the slippery strips of spandex in place. I wanted to offer her a towel to wrap around her hips, so she could lose herself in the contest and feel the exhilaration of making a perfect shot.

It was easy to see why she was getting demolished at this game: Her near-naked body was consuming her focus. And in her pained expression I recognized the familiar mix of shame and excitement I felt when I first wore a bikini.

At 14, I skittered down the halls of high school like a squirrel in traffic: hugging the walls, changing direction in midstream, darting for cover. Then I went to Los Angeles to visit my aunt Mary during winter break. Mary collected mermaids, kept a black-and-white photo of her long-haired Indian guru on her dresser, and shopped at a tiny health food store that smelled of patchouli and peanut butter. She took me to Venice Beach, where I bought a cheap bikini from a street vendor.

Dizzy with the promise of an impossibly bright afternoon, I thought I could be someone else -- glistening and proud like the greased-up bodybuilders on the lawn, relaxed and unself-conscious as the hippies who lounged on the pavement with lit incense tucked behind their ears. In a beachside bathroom with gritty cement floors, I changed into my new two-piece suit.

Goose bumps spread across my chubby white tummy and the downy white hairs on my thighs stood on end -- I felt as raw and exposed as a turtle stripped of its shell. And when I left the bathroom, the stares of men seemed to pin me in one spot even as I walked by.

In spite of a strange and mounting sense of shame, I was riveted by their smirking faces; in their suggestive expressions I thought I glimpsed some vital clue to the mystery of myself. What did these men see in me -- what was this strange power surging between us, this rapidly shifting current that one moment made me feel powerful and the next unspeakably vulnerable?

I imagined Aliya in a string bikini in a few years. Then I imagined her draped in Muslim attire. It was hard to say which image was more unsettling. I thought then of something a Sufi Muslim friend had told me: that Sufis believe our essence radiates beyond our physical bodies -- that we have a sort of energetic second skin, which is extremely sensitive and permeable to everyone we encounter. Muslim men and women wear modest clothing, she said, to protect this charged space between them and the world.

Growing up in the '70s in Southern California, I had learned that freedom for women meant, among other things, fewer clothes, and that women could be anything -- and still look good in a bikini. Exploring my physical freedom had been an important part of my process of self-discovery, but the exposure had come at a price.

Since that day in Venice Beach, I'd spent years learning to swim in the turbulent currents of attraction -- wanting to be desired, resisting others' unwelcome advances, plumbing the mysterious depths of my own longing.

I'd spent countless hours studying my reflection in the mirror -- admiring it, hating it, wondering what others thought of it -- and it sometimes seemed to me that if I had applied the same relentless scrutiny to another subject I could have become enlightened, written a novel, or at least figured out how to grow an organic vegetable garden.

On a recent Saturday morning, in the crowded dressing room of a large department store, I tried on designer jeans alongside college girls in stiletto heels, young mothers with babies fussing in their strollers, and middle-aged women with glossed lips pursed into frowns. One by one we filed into changing rooms, then lined up to take our turn on a brightly lit pedestal surrounded by mirrors, cocking our hips and sucking in our tummies and craning our necks to stare at our rear ends.

When it was my turn, my heart felt as tight in my chest as my legs did in the jeans. My face looked drawn under the fluorescent lights, and suddenly I was exhausted by all the years I'd spent doggedly chasing the carrot of self-improvement, while dragging behind me a heavy cart of self-criticism.

At this stage in her life, Aliya is captivated by the world around her -- not by what she sees in the mirror. Last summer she stood at the edge of the Blue Ridge Parkway, stared at the blue-black outline of the mountains in the distance, their tips swaddled by cottony clouds, and gasped. "This is the most beautiful thing I ever saw," she whispered. Her wide-open eyes were a mirror of all that beauty, and she stood so still that she blended into the lush landscape, until finally we broke her reverie by tugging at her arm and pulling her back to the car.

At school it's different. In her fourth-grade class, girls already draw a connection between clothing and popularity. A few weeks ago, her voice rose in anger as she told me about a classmate who had ranked all the girls in class according to how stylish they were.

I understood then that while physical exposure had liberated me in some ways, Aliya could discover an entirely different type of freedom by choosing to cover herself.

I have no idea how long Aliya's interest in Muslim clothing will last. If she chooses to embrace Islam, I trust the faith will bring her tolerance, humility, and a sense of justice -- the way it has done for her father. And because I have a strong desire to protect her, I will also worry that her choice could make life in her own country difficult. She has recently memorized the fatiha, the opening verse of the Quran, and she is pressing her father to teach her Arabic. She's also becoming an agile mountain biker who rides with me on wooded trails, mud spraying her calves as she navigates the swollen creek.

The other day, when I dropped her off at school, instead of driving away from the curb in a rush as I usually do, I watched her walk into a crowd of kids, bent forward under the weight of her backpack as if she were bracing against a storm. She moved purposefully, in such a solitary way -- so different from the way I was at her age, and I realized once again how mysterious she is to me.

It's not just her head covering that makes her so: It's her lack of concern for what others think about her. It's finding her stash of Halloween candy untouched in her drawer, while I was a child obsessed with sweets. It's the fact that she would rather dive into a book than into the ocean -- that she gets so consumed with her reading that she can't hear me calling her from the next room.

I watched her kneel at the entryway to her school and pull a neatly folded cloth from the front of her pack, where other kids stash bubble gum or lip gloss. Then she slipped it over her head, and her shoulders disappeared beneath it like the cape her younger brother wears when he pretends to be a superhero.

As I pulled away from the curb, I imagined that headscarf having magical powers to protect her boundless imagination, her keen perception, and her unself-conscious goodness. I imagined it shielding her as she journeys through that house of mirrors where so many young women get trapped in adolescence, buffering her from the dissatisfaction that clings in spite of the growing number of choices at our fingertips, providing safe cover as she takes flight into a future I can only imagine.

By Krista Bremer, who is the winner of a 2008 Pushcart Prize and a 2009 Rona Jaffe Foundation Writers' Award. She is associate publisher of the literary magazine The Sun, and she is writing a memoir about her bicultural marriage.

This article First appeared on: O, The Oprah Magazine

Read more: http://blog.criticmagazine.pk/2010/07/bikini-or-headscarf-which-offers-more.html#ixzz0urcIe6eG

EIGHT CLUES TO HAPPINESS

THIS ABOVE ALL - KHUSHWANT SINGH

Having lived a reasonably contented life, I was musing over what a person should strive for to achieve happiness. I drew up a list of a few essentials which I put forward for the readers’ appraisal.

First and foremost is good health. If you do not enjoy good health you can never be happy. Any ailment, however trivial, will deduct from your happiness.

Second, a healthy bank balance. It need not run into crores but should be enough to provide for creature comforts and something to spare for recreation, like eating out, going to the pictures, travelling or going on holidays on the hills or by the sea. Shortage of money can be only demoralizing. Living on credit or borrowing is demeaning and lowers one in one’s own eyes.

Third, a home of your own. Rented premises can never give you the snug feeling of a nest which is yours for keeps that a home provides: if it has a garden space, all the better. Plant your own trees and flowers, see them grow and blossom, cultivate a sense of kinship with them.

Fourth, an understanding companion, be it your spouse or a friend. If there are too many misunderstandings, they will rob you of your peace of mind. It is better to be divorced than to bicker all the time.

Fifth, lack of envy towards those who have done better than you in life — risen higher, made more money, or earned more fame. Envy can be very corroding; avoid comparing yourself with others.

Sixth, do not allow other people to descend on you for gup-shup. By the time you get rid of them, you will feel exhausted and poisoned by their gossip-mongering.

Seventh, cultivate some hobbies which can bring you a sense of fulfilment, such as gardening, reading, writing, painting, playing or listening to music. Going to clubs or parties to get free drinks or to meet celebrities is criminal waste of time.

Eighth, every morning and evening, devote 15 minutes to introspection. In the morning, 10 minutes should be spent on stilling the mind and then five in listing things you have to do that day. In the evening, five minutes to still the mind again, and ten to go over what you had undertaken to do.

Nathaniel Cotton (1721-1788) summed up my views on the subject in one verse:

If solid happiness we prize,

Within our breast this jewel lies;

And they are fools who roam:

The world has nothing to bestow;

From our own selves our joys must flow

And that dear hut, — our home.