Nothing is simple in life. There has to be some snag or obstacle thrown in; the proverbial monkey wrench, the fly in the ointment. But if other people’s stories have taught us, at the end of the ordeal, the taste of victory tastes much sweeter than the bitterness of the trials preceding it. Or in Larry Peh’s case, it is his first-ever brewed sake with his creative collective, NORMAT.
Co-founded by the two-time President’s Design Award winner, NORMAT is about “marrying traditional craftsmanship with contemporary design in a truly unique way”. The collective name—NORMAT—is cribbed from “normative”; with the “ive” taken out to adhere to the “out-of-the-box” thinking.
For Peh, he wanted to create a sake that could “harmonise with the diverse range of local and international culinary experiences”. A bold jumping-off point as it took years to persuade a Japanese brewery to work with him. The result is three sakes that are versatile, that can pair effortlessly with a gamut of Asian cuisines. (The third sake, the Nakadori Junmai Daiginjo is a premium sake that’s made from the “middle press” method—a portion of the sake is collected after the first flow of the sake mash. This middle cut is considered as the “heart of the pressing process” and the Nakadori Junmai Daiginjo is limited to 120 bottles.)
It’s a bold claim, so we sampled the Tokubetsu Junmai and Junmai Daiginjo bottles with dishes from The Coconut Club. Brewed with a unique blend of Gohyakumangoku and Tsukiakaririce, tasted alone, the Tokubetsu Junmai is light on the palate with a refined finish. It goes great with the Gohu Ikan starter, which is a coconut dressing and kermagi oil drizzled over Hamachicrudo. The heavier body of the Junmai Daiginjo (brewed with Koshitanrei rice and Niigata mountain water) fits with the nasi lemak (ayam goreng berempah; chilli) and quite frankly, this writer was draining the glass of Junmai Daiginjo more quickly than the Tokubetsu Junmai.
So, yes. The tasting proves the compatibility of the Tokubetsu Junmai and Junmai Daiginjo and the menu at The Coconut Club. We can’t speak for other cuisines like chicken rice or char kway teow; dishes with wok hey or with the headiness of chicken curry. But we leave that conclusion to you. Experiment, do your own critical studies. Even without the pairing of dishes, the drinks stand on their own.
NORMAT’s “Against the Grain” sakes are sold online
I've heard of this dude who rents himself out to do nothing. Most of us have, though we probably don't recall his name or what he looks like even after watching the documentary. The concept is so simple yet brilliant, inciting a reaction no different from looking at contemporary art we don't understand—I could've done that.
Yet, we didn't. And this man did. Morimoto has been hired over 4,000 times since the inception of his service in 2018. He gained 100,000 followers within the first year of advertising himself via a tweet. You're not alone in finding his success bizarre; the man himself was equally befuddled. Thus, his retrospective purposes to find an answer. So upon seeing his non-fiction title on stands, I wanted to get a glimpse into his mind. What I didn't expect, however, was the insights doing nothing could reveal.
Aligning with his mantra to "do nothing", Morimoto has actually not written the book himself. Engaging a writer and editor to keep an objective angle, all he did was respond to their questions and watch them develop it. Surprising, given his past life in academia and freelance writing.
Besides stemming from demoralising "jokes" his former employer made towards him, his take on jobs itself makes you reconsider the peculiar dynamics we have at work. Japan is infamous for its toxic corporate culture, but there are some aspects that apply to all modern offices. We are largely defined by our occupation, but our performances are often not judged solely based on competency. Rather, how personable we are as well. To the people who matter, at least.
It's more common than anticipated that people rent him purely to tell him something extremely confidential. Sensitive subjects you would share with their loved ones instead. Somehow, the degree of separation—Morimoto mostly sees his clients once—and his lack of advice fulfills seemingly basic human needs to A) voice it out, B) feel heard and not judged. As friend or family, we are inclined to help solve the problem at hand. Yet, many of his clients usually arrive at a solution without his contribution going beyond nodding.
In fact, it's more intriguing when it's not about getting a secret off your chest. Such as clients who just want to rave about their favourite band. It's fascinating breaking down why you can't necessarily do this with a friend. There are expected parameters for conversation; because veering too far from a mutual interest could potentially bore your companion.
This specialisation extends to activities as well. In his words, "When someone asks me to go with them to a restaurant, a computer game tournament or pop concert, I think that rather than having nobody at all they could ask, it's more a matter of not having a friend for that specific purpose. Unless a friend shares a particular interest, inviting them to come along might feel like asking a favour and thus puts you in their debt."
Occupying the liminal space between 'friend' and 'stranger', he liberates the client from these committal customs. Almost like a situationship minus the sex—you get the convenience of company without needing to spend the required time and expenditure to first build a friendship; and no obligations to continue contact. It begs the question: Are we as transactional in our personal relationships?
One of the biggest revelations was the fact that Morimoto does this for free. It is his strategic decision not to invoke a fee to avoid a dynamic dictated by money, where service satisfaction could become based on how "customers" can "get their money's worth". It's interesting to see how involving finances alters the levels of expectation.
Though living off his savings and only charging for travel expenses, he has received remuneration over the years. Sometimes, even for no reason at all. When asked how it compares with being a shrine offertory box, Morimoto is certain about the difference. People who throw coins usually expect a blessing; in his case, the sheer act of giving is what allows people to feel good about themselves. By merely existing as an available recipient, he has done his job.
What Morimoto calls being "zero spec", or having absolutely nothing to offer, is of itself his unique selling point. It prompted him to think: "A baby has a completely zero spec -it can't do anything by itself- but with the love and care of its parents and others, it lives. As I looked at our child, I kept thinking how wonderful that was. And I began to wish everyone could live like a baby does, behaving just as they wanted".
It is true that demands to contribute professionally and personally are ingrained later in life, and the freedom we were born with fades away. In some way, Morimoto has escaped this fate. It makes me wonder how many of us can.
One popular request and logical driver for his business model are activities you can't quite do alone. Or more likely, can't quite be seen doing alone. This leaves us with the questions: Why do we feel conscious of how people we don't know perceive us doing something alone? Or, what makes certain activities weird to be done alone in the first place?
Highly self-aware (probably because it was not directly authored) and funny in deadpan ways, the overall tone of the book is consistent with his branding. The short and easy read is ultimately not so much a book about doing nothing, but why humans need someone to do nothing with.
Rental Person Who Does Nothing
A year is a long time and it's even longer when you break it down like the cast of Rent ("Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes", anyone?). Now, put that in terms and it might seem like a very wordy beginning of "Seasons of Love" but that's nothing for Nikka Whisky, who rolls out the fruit of their long labour: the Nikka Nine Decades.
Since its founding by This limited-edition release screams excellence and exclusivity. Only 4,000 bottles of the Nikka Nine Decades are crafted and are made from a blend of the whiskies of Nikka's 90-year history. From Nikka’s six storied distilleries—Yoichi, Nishinomiya, Miyagikyo, Moji, Satsumatsukasa and Scotland's Ben Nevis distillery—this is the culmination of a very comprehensive expression of Nikka's legacy.
(Although, give it another 10 years and we are willing to bet good money that Nikka willrelease a Nikka Ten Decades bottle.)
Made of over 50 whisky batches, from the oldest malt reserves from Yoichi and Miyagikyoto the newer grain whiskies from Moji and Satsumastukasa, the Nikka Nine Decades is non-chill filtered (this fully preserved the smell and texture) and bottled at 48 per cent ABV.
On the nose, you get the sweetness of raisins and apples that evolve into a slight smokiness of aged wood. At first sip, you get a hit of oak, followed by spicy cinnamon, roasted nuts, and a dark chocolate profile before that well-deserved finish of a pleasant acid.
Matching its divine content, we have an exterior that deft hands had worked on. A Nikka emblem is etched onto the decanter via “Edo-bori”; which in our research is a Tokyo (the former name of "Edo")-styled version of sandblast carving. Each bottle comes in an elegant wooden box signed by the eight Nikka master blenders—from founder Masataka Taketsuruto the present-day maestros. As you open the box, inside mirrors reflect the back of the bottle, giving it an austere presentation.
Released in July for Nikka’s 90th anniversary, there are 140 bottles of the Nine Decades in the Southeast Asia region. Retailing at SGD3,300, it's a small substantial price to pay for whisky history.
Remember that weekend road trip with your parents, popping haw flakes en route to grandma’s? Or how about blasting noughties hits with the top down all through college summer holidays? The journey was as big a deal as the destination back then, and not just because there was no avoiding it. These days, travellers are sleeping, reading, or even medicating to escape the mundane public transportation experience. Planes may be quicker, but they’re a lot less memorable.
In Japan circa 2016, I gained a renewed love of road trips when we drove to Mount Fuji via tiny villages with names I don’t remember. In a country famed for its Shinkansen bullet trains, I found that wheels led us to pastures unbeknown to the overseas visitor. There were no guides (English-speaking) to consult for information: we simply rocked up and connected with locals who shared their delicious broth potatoes with us.
I also had a splash road-tripping through France’s wine country. Every turn was a chance to discover an amazing vineyard, one that isn’t mass-producing Moët for chain hotels. In Bordeaux, I basked in sunshine and had the sips of my life at Chateau Quintus, an ancient vineyard perched up a hill overlooking a medieval Saint-Émilion town. It was wonderful serendipity, leading to the discovery of my new favourite wine. In Champagne though, I knew exactly where I was headed, to the house of Billercart-Salmon. I’d been a fan for years and was finally visiting the historic estate, family-run since the 1800s. In both cases, I took advantage of going off the beaten track to find boutique accommodations at reasonable prices. When you’re going around sampling grape juice, good overnight lodging is essential.
I took these road trips with a partner but I’ve recently been enjoying them as a group too. My friend Francesco is from Italy (famed for rolling hills, small towns and fine gastronomy), and so he knows to follow the wild for life’s bounties. In his Bentayga EWB, Bentley’s snazzy SUV which has a fully reclining airline rear seat, no less, we drove to Dorset this year. When you fly, you fear the worst: missing your flight, delays, uncomfortable seats, and bad plane food, but we had none of that to worry about with Ms Bentayga, as we called her. We waited for Francesco and his girlfriend, Amie, to pick us up at leisure, and any traffic delay was welcome in our eyes. Amie had a long playlist of ’90s hits to get us through, turning the SUV into a karaoke booth for half the four-hour journey. We stopped at a local pub for lunch, and a cafe for snacks and strong coffees, but it wasn’t always for edible reasons. In some cases, we stopped just because the view was nice, and we wanted to get out and have a wander. Road trips help you embrace curiosity, and best of all, aside from taking photos or connecting Ms Bentayga to our cheesy playlist, we barely took out our phones. We remained present in one another’s company. By contrast, it’s completely the norm to glue ourselves to a screen before take off, and throughout a flight, no matter how much you like your companion. Perhaps the communal nature of a journey forces us to retreat, whereas a car, especially if it’s a comfy one, provides a safe space to let loose.
On reaching our destination, an independent farm hotel called Outbuildings Dorset, there was a shift in the usual landing energy. Nobody was exhausted from the journey (not even driver Francesco). Rather, we were a mix of energised but ready for a cosy night in following an adventure. We sat by the fireplace, played cards, and feasted on homemade shepherd’s pie. There may have been some of that French wine hiding in the trunk that made it over to our cabin too. Our evening was quality, unscheduled time together. Equally, while we enjoyed Dorset—hiking to impressive sandstone cliffs and browsing farmers’ markets—there wasn’t a sense of time ticking. We even looked forward to the journey back home. The group made suggestions for the playlist and picked up some lotions from the property gift shop to pamper ourselves on Ms Bentayga’s passenger seats. There was an anticipation like it was the third portion of our trip. I’ve never recalled having that feeling for a flight home, except the times I flew business class. You could argue that this was a fancy car with the legroom of a limousine, but I’ve felt that way in a mini too. Excited about the potential for exploration, the camaraderie, and the music (though not for the confined space).
I still take flights for long-haul trips. After all, I can’t drive to Taiwan. I’m also a loyal Trainline customer and I use it every month. Trains are brilliant because they also come with views so I can easily put my phone down. I’m taking a train from London to Amsterdam next month, choosing it over flying purely because the ride itself is more enjoyable. Plus, the airport wait time is longer than the flight itself.
I believe road trips are serious contenders in the vacation sphere. They’re brilliant ways to adventure no matter the party size, be it a bachelor herd making its way to a huge Airbnb in Macau, or a couple driving to a Thai Anantara resort for a romantic weekend. I’d suggest getting to the airport, and if you can drive, taking the longer, more scenic route. There’s more chance of discovery, whereas a shuttle or small plane will just get you from A to B. From Singapore, there are many easy road trips you can take, including places like Malacca and Kuala Lumpur. If you’re heading to Singapore instead, you’d be happy to know it is ranked number one in Asia for road infrastructure. So let’s bring road-tripping back to the vacation mix. If anything, it’s a perfect excuse to upgrade those wheels.
From the bustling streets of Tokyo to the far corners of the globe, Seiko has been putting timepieces on our wrists for over 110 years. While watch brands are at a sprint towards horological hyper-accuracy, Seiko cruises in its own lane; preferring to dominate the realm of value. Yeah, a Seiko might not split hairs with its timekeeping precision but what it lacks in decimal places, it makes up for in sheer robustness and bang for your buck. Seiko is unleashing two reincarnations from its illustrious vault of vintage watches.
The limited-edition Seiko Sports 5 Heritage Design Recreation will fool even the old guard into thinking you’ve been winding crowns for a while. Taking its cues from a late ’60s crowd-pleaser, the watch is an in-house Calibre 4R36 automatic with legibility, teetering on the edge of perfection. Even in low-light conditions, the minute markers between each index and LumiBrite-treated hands, bezel and dial can be seen. ere’s also a day-date complication, with the day of the week spelt out for added convenience.
Perhaps the most underrated element, however, is the tri-fold clasp bracelet where the vintage spirit of the original model really shines through. If you’re feeling more classic, there’s the black leather rally-style strap tucked away in the box you can swap out with.
The Seiko 5 Sports Heritage is available in silver and black dial options.
Launched in the early ‘60s, King Seiko returns to claim its place in the spotlight of horological excellence. The new series takes the contours of its predecessor and integrates a multi-row bracelet that’s been mirror-polished and brushed to catch light. Its shorter links paired with the low centre of gravity of the 39mm case means amore comfortable fit.
At the heart of these royal timepieces beats Seiko’s automatic slimline Calibre6L35. Available in a trio of colours—silver, purple and green—this is a watch measuring a mere 9.9mm thick while still powering a date function.
A special limited-edition commemorative watch will be released to mark 100years since the word “Seiko” first appeared on a wristwatch dial. Featuring a light blue-green dial with a textured pattern reminiscent of dragon scales, only 700 Seiko pieces of it are available worldwide
Led by the Singapore Tourism Board (STB), Singapore’s participation at the World Expo 2025 was an opportunity to share our nation’s story. Located at Yumeshima Island, situated near Osaka, Singapore's pavilion design is called "The Dream Sphere". It is a seven-storey bright red sphere that pays homage to Yumeshima Island’s name, meaning "Dream Island". With the tagline, "Where Dreams Take Shape", this sphere is designed and produced by Kingsmen Exhibits.
If the design looks familiar, chalk it up to coincidence. Leading Singapore-based multidisciplinary design firm, DP Architects spearheaded its architectural design. Inspired by Singapore’s endearing moniker, ‘the Little Red Dot’, DP interpreted the look of the Dream... quite literally. Conceived in line with the expo's theme of "Designing [a] Future Society for our Lives", the Pavilion aims for positive change to build a more sustainable and liveable city for Singaporeans. It's constructed around the tenets of 4Rs—renew, reuse, reduce and recycle. And staying true to the message of sustainability, the facade is made of more than 20,000 recycled discs.
Other design features of the Pavilion include its scaly exterior. It references the Seigaiha, a traditional Japanese wave motif, and Ema, a Japanese wooden wishing charm. The sphere’s colour coincides with Singapore's and Japan’s national colour. Its shape resembles the distinct silhouette of the Japanese ume.
Carrie Kwik, Executive Director, World Expo and Special Project, STB, said, “Singapore’s participation at Expo 2025 in Osaka serves as an important platform for Singapore enterprises and talents to be profiled on a global stage and a chance for companies to enhance their brand visibility and engage potential business partners. We are proud to bring Singapore to Osaka and aim to have Singapore business missions visiting Japan to network and promote collaboration between Singapore companies and Japanese guests at our Singapore Pavilion.”
Expo 2025 Osaka expects 28 million visitors over 184 days from 13 April 2024 to 13 October 2025.
If Shōgun's events feel like they're based in historical fact, that's because most of the story is based on a real-life power struggle. Author James Clavell borrowed many historical figures from the 17th century for his 1975 novel of the same name—which greatly dramatised the story of the first Englishman to sail to Japan. His work of historical fiction even garnered a popular miniseries in 1980, which was such a hit that many cultural observers attributed the show's success to the rise of interest in sushi in the West.
Although Clavell—who hailed from England himself—beefed up both the story of John Blackthorne's arrival in Japan and his influence on the eventual Tokugawa shogunate, many of the characters and events depicted in Shōgun are based on historical fact. This week, FX debuted the first two episodes of its take on Shōgun—and it's already a hit amongst critics. The series stars Hiroyuki Sanada (John Wick: Chapter 4) as Lord Toranaga and Cosmo Jarvis (Persuasion) as John Blackthorne. But what's fact and fiction in the latest Shōgun adaptation?
The events of the series begin with the death of Toyotomi Hideyoshi, who was the second "Great Unifier of Japan." In Shōgun, he's called the Taikō, which was the title given to a retired advisor of a former emperor. Hideyoshi carried on the work of Oda Nabunaga, the first Great Unifier of Japan, following nearly a century-long of civil war. After the Taikō died, a new path opened for infighting. Five great lords, called daimyo, vied for the title of shōgun: the de facto ruler of Japan.
Japan feared another century of conflict after the Taiko’s death, so Hideyoshi established the five elders who would rule in his place. A prominent member among the five included Tokugawa Ieyasu, renamed Yoshii Toranaga in Shōgun and brought to life by Sanada. Over the span of just two years, he leveraged his power and close connection to the Taiko to become the new shōgun. Assembling his forces, he took Osaka Castle and easily won the bloody battle of Sekigahara—which is one of the most important battles in Japanese history.
Around this time, Takagawa met William Adams, the first Englishman to sail to Japan. Adams eventually became a trusted advisor to Takagawa, who was impressed by his knowledge of Western ships and navigation. He commissioned Adams to Japanese ships—and he later replaced Jesuit Padre João Rodrigues as the shōgun's official interpreter. In the miniseries, Adams’s counterpart, John Blackthorne (played by Jarvis), holds much more significance to Tokugawa’s rise to power than he did in real life. What really won Tokugawa the shogunate? It was military might.
In Shōgun, Tokugawa uses Blackthorne’s presence as a Protestant to sow disagreement between the Five Elders—some of whom profited from the nation’s Christian colonisers, who hailed from from Portugal and Spain. Sure, the Five Elders demanding the persecution of one heretic among Tokugawa’s castle may be a tad far-fetched. But Clavell’s addition of Blackthorne is more so the story's powder keg. Clavell also added a relationship between Blackthorne and Toda Mariko (Anna Sawai), whose real-life counterpart never even met Adams.
That isn't to say that Tokugawa and Adams didn't share a friendship in real life. According to Smithsonian Magazine, the two wrote many letters to one another, and the powerful daimyo was fascinated by Adams's knowledge of the globe. Tokugawa also greeted the Englishman during his trips to Japan, even after he had rose to the shogunate. Eventually, Adams was gifted the honorary title of samurai. Meanwhile, Tokugawa remained in power until his death in 1616. He constructed the great Edo Castle—the largest castle in all of Japan—and the Tokugawa shogunate ruled the country for the next 250 years.
Originally published on Esquire US
It’s hard not to be shaken by the current geo-political situation on our doorstep. And while many (if not all of us) are feeling somewhat helpless amid the turmoil, one common hope emerges: Peace.
A symbol recognised worldwide, a circle with an embedded branch, has come to represent this aspiration. Conceived by British graphic artist Gerald Holtom in 1958, it was originally associated with the British Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament. Hence its nickname: CND. Holtom’s intention was to convey the image of a stylised figure with outstretched, open palms, symbolising helplessness and resignation in the face of the nuclear threat. The original sketches of this iconic symbol can be found at Bradford University. Holtom, a committed pacifist and conscientious objector during World War II, intentionally refrained from copyrighting his design, making it accessible for all to use.
Earlier this year the US-based design museum, Cooper Hewitt, unveiled its ‘Designing Peace’ exhibition. It explored the unique role that design can play in the pursuit of peace. With more than 30 design proposals, the exhibit showcases how design can respond immediately to urgent humanitarian needs, providing products that aid individuals in rebuilding their lives and restoring their dignity. Creative forces are capable of addressing emergency requirements for secure, healthy and respectful environments. The United Nations, through its Sustainable Development Agenda (Goal 16), lays out a plan for nurturing peaceful coexistence. This exhibition is currently on view at the Museum Craft and Design in San Francisco, USA.
In 2023, Tokyo hosted the World Design Assembly. One of the main themes was the pivotal role of design in driving social change across various dimensions. This includes design for peace, design for social change, innovation, inclusion, and cohesion. It is a thread that has played a prominent role in modern Japanese culture. Since 1983, the Japan Graphic Designers Association presented a project entitled ‘Hiroshima Appeals’ dedicated to creating posters with the purpose of promoting peace. Back in 2015, the Japanese government approved the ‘Basic Design for Peace and Health’ recognising human security as the fundamental principle.
In the aftermath of Japan’s defeat in World War II, the Japanese government harnessed the power of design. Through design, they rebuild the nation through innovative products utilising recycled materials to minimise production costs. Another testament to design’s influence on modern society is machizukuri. This is a process of community design that involves both local authorities and residents, allowing the public to play a part in shaping their own futures.
These initiatives illustrate the ability of design practitioners to reinvent their field. To address the economic and societal challenges that Japan, or any modern nation, may encounter in its history. Let’s embrace the Japanese concept of Kyosei or ‘conviviality’. That's where true peace encompasses not only the absence of violence but also the rectification of past injustices, exploitation and oppression.
The novelty of being a big city lad, strolling into a sexy London glass office with a latte in hand (as they do in the movies) doesn’t last long. By the time I was 30, on paper, I’d made it. I was working at a top television network, with a comfortable salary and business trips to Manhattan. I had a bachelor pad, bought nice clothes, and partied weekends. It was exactly what I pictured growing up, but I wasn’t happy.
The traditional outlook on life has always been to work hard, get married, buy a house, and at least for millennials, allocation of ‘fun’ is slotted in at the end, for retirement. That’s assuming we’re lucky enough to make it to our 60s. Spending the next 30+ years of my life in an office cubicle and mind-numbing marketing meetings was, to me, pure torture. I decided enough was enough.
In 2016 I sold my things and moved to Tokyo on an English teaching visa, interning part-time as an entertainment reporter for a local paper. It was a chance to go to free gigs, make new friends, and get out there. Months later, came the big break. A friend moved to Singapore as editor of an airline magazine, and they needed a travel writer in Japan. I was now getting paid to write and explore.
The lack of English-speaking reporters in the region, at least compared to back home, meant I was able to secure a steady flow of work covering Japan. Eventually, I ditched the English teaching job to write full-time, forfeiting the visa. That was fine as I could work anywhere with a good Wi-Fi connection.
Being used to a routine, things were tough in the beginning. You never know when the next job is coming, and finding a new place to set up shop can be stressful. Things have got easier, especially post-pandemic now that digital nomads have surged (131 per cent since 2019, according to Forbes). I’ve spent extended time in Da Nang, Bali and Kuala Lumpur, meccas for remote workers, thanks to special digital nomad visas, flexible co-working spaces and value long-stay rentals and travel.
Every day isn’t coconut cocktails on the beach. I still go to an office. I make my own hours and choose when and where I want to work. I’m based between the US and the UK. I rented desks or WFH, but you’ll find me and my laptop all over the place. Mostly in coffee shops and hotel rooms. I also try to make the most of transit time that can sometimes be a challenge. For example, on the Caledonian Sleeper train to Inverness, though the purpose was to sleep, I stayed up all night to meet a last-minute deadline. A couple of weeks later I sailed the Indian Ganges on a boutique rivercruise called Uniworld. It was pretty remote, and l got frustrated with Internet speeds. Maybe it was a sign to switch off and enjoy the ride.
Though the money I earn now is far less than before, so are my outgoings. I used to live rather excessively. But now I don’t need the latest gadgets, a car, or a swanky downtown apartment. Why? Because I get plenty of enrichment on the job. One week I can be surrounded by rescued elephants in Chiang Mai. And the next I’ll be surrounded by celebrity chefs at The Dorchester in Mayfair. In a single year, I can check off more bucket list activities than one could in a lifetime. I’ve had to make a whole new list, actually. Things I've done: hot air ballooning, snowmobiling, and safari; interviewed Sir Richard Branson and Michelle Yeoh. I’ve even written two best-selling guidebooks.
Before leaving the rat race, my stories weren’t particularly noteworthy. Unless you’re into drunken anecdotes, but everything that’s happened in recent years would make a real page-turner of a biography. I skim my travel journals in disbelief. Best of all, I’ve been able to share many special moments with the people I care about. Working remotely means more time with loved ones and less time with Karen from advertising. It’s ironic because we all know time is finite. And yet,most people prioritise making money in the hopes of using it later to live their best lives. Think about all the things that make you happy. Travel, music, cooking, sports, spouse, kids…How much time are you dedicating to them? Are you justifying a lack of time now for more later? I’m always conscious that later often becomes never, and remember, never is the saddest thing anyone could work toward.
James Wong can be reached here.
No one would ever think that the picturesque and serene Mount Fuji is still an active volcano. And none might even hazard a guess that the sacred mountain would also be the base for a time-honoured Japanese tradition of tea-making that gives way to TWG Tea's Hon Gyokuro.
The suffix "gyokuro" is a kind of shaded green tea. The prefix "hon" denotes the work of a master artisan. Gyokuro is cultivated through laborious means. That's where the tea isn't grown under the full glare of the sun but rather under the shade.
They are matured under a careful arrangement of handcrafted straw mats known as 'Komo'. Over 25 days, these tea leaves draw in the nutrients of precious minerals that are nurtured by rain showers and dewy mornings. The slow growth of Hon Gyokuro is further nurtured by gentle breezes and sunlight filtering through the woven mat.
After harvesting, the freshly picked tea leaves are promptly processed on the same day. Stored in a wooden box known as Cha-Bako, the leaves rest and mature until autumn, enhancing their exquisite flavours. You get seaweed-green leaves that are rich in chlorophyll. With a flavour profile that hints of honeysuckle and that ends in a velvety finish with a touch of ooika—a thick, heady note that ignites the senses. This is a tea of brilliant sweetness and concentrated flavour.
This ancestral Gyokuro technique is practised by only a handful of tea plantations in Japan. There, where Mount Fuji sits, the altitude and terroir add to the Gyokuro harvests. The two renowned tea estates which TWG Tea sources from are managed by a single tea planter. In the case of Master's Gyokuro, the plantation's lone producer and craftsman of Hon Gyokuro is the last in the line of tea planters. He harvests the leaves by hand once a year in the spring. Only a mere five-kilogramme yield is passed onto TWG Tea. Needless to say, for the sort of exceptional quality, the Hon Gyokuro is highly limited.
TWG Tea's Imperial Gyokuro (SGD264 per pot / SGD1,271.50 per 50g) and Master's Gyokuro (SGD61.50 per pot / SGD258 per 50g) are more than just a cup of tea; it is an experience. Where contemplation over a comforting brew brings to the fore the appreciation of long-cherished heritage and craftsmanship.
If you know Envy, you probably know Envy. The Japanese band with more than 30 years of post-hardcore legacy revisits us this week. Coming off a successful European tour spanning nine countries and 16 shows, as well as their recent stint at Maho Rasop in Thailand and the release of their 10-inch EP Seimei last year, they will be showcasing an impressive catalogue in one night.
For those that don't know Envy, that's seven albums, six EPs and more seamlessly blending aggressive and melodic elements. We could talk about how the signature music profile is characterised by intense dynamics of hardcore punk and atmospheric soundscape but better to experience it for yourself. Especially if the genre sounds like your thing.
The six-strong powerhouse comprise original members Manabu Nakagawa on bass, Nobukata Kawai on guitar, and lead vocalist/keyboardist Tetsuya Fukagawa, and the fitting subsequent additions of y0shi and Yoshimitsu Taki on guitars, and Hiroki Watanabe on drums.
The upcoming performance marks a momentous occasion since the last live show was 2012 at the Substation. Other festivals Envy has graced include HELLFEST (FR), FUJI ROCK FESTIVAL (JP) and the very recent MAHO RASOP (TH).
Date: Wednesday, 6 December 2023
Time: 8pm till 10pm, doors open at 7.30pm
Venue: SCAPE The Ground Theatre, Singapore 239978
Purchase tickets on Eventbrite
Dive into 100 years of whisky innovation. At the ArtScience Museum, you'll meet with an immersive exhibition about the humble beginnings of Suntory, the process of its storied whisky and where it is heading.
Called, The Legacy Continues: 100 Years of Suntory Whisky Innovation, visitors can revisit key moments of the whisky house. Running until 17 July, not only do you get to witness history being made but you can also sit in on an exquisite tasting of Suntory's rare and iconic whiskies.
Entering the exhibit and it feels like you've stepped into the past. Inspired by Suntory's legendary Yamazaki distillery, the exhibit showcases the sights, scents and sounds of the place. With interactive displays that guide you through the taste profiles of each of Suntory's iconic whiskies, you'll also appreciate the work and artistry that went into making Suntory a global sensation.
Don't miss out on the exclusive showing of the docuseries, The Nature and Spirit of Japan. Directed by Roman Coppola and starring Keanu Reeves, discover Suntory via its pillars of nature, spirit and the essence of Japan.
And finally, the journey reaches its crescendo at The Bar. Sit at the counter, where you'll go through three distinct eras of Japanese culture. You'll be privy to curated visual projections, carefully selected playlists and a refined selection of whisky flights and cocktails. The drinks feature Suntory's coveted limited-edition Yamazaki, Hakushu and Ao whiskies.
If fate isn't kind to you and you missed the exhibition, there's still a reprieve. At Changi Airport Terminal 1, there's a global travel retail launch outpost at the transit area. It'll feature animmersive exhibition, interactive video elements and, of course, a moment to sample the finest of Japanese whiskies... unless you're the pilot. We suggest holding off the drink unless you're returning from landing a plane.
