While the musical should be applauded for breathing fire into the otherwise boilerplate villainous character of the wicked witch of Oz (the one Dorothy killed with a pail of water in the classic tale, Wizard of Oz), it should also be doubly complimented for introducing super-funny fantabulous new words woven into the script.

Wicked  begins where Wizard of Oz ends: the citizens of Emerald City are celebrifying the death of the bad witch. But as they rejoiced, questions emerged. The audience soon finds out that the girl from Kansas is merely a bit player in a bigger drama unfolding in Oz: one about the lives of Elphaba, the wicked witch, and Glinda, a.k.a. Galinda, the white witch.

Elphaba and Glinda are frenemies. Their relationship started off as one-dimensional (they hated each other) to complicated (they loved and hated each other). It is the unraveling of their friendship, poked and prodded by the people around them, that gives the show a harder edge and more depth than your typical comedic musical.

Powerful vocal performances, superb costume and set design, and a well-crafted script: Wicked had it all. No wonder it’s won 10 Tony Award nominations in a year (2004), six Drama Desk Awards and the 2010 Laurence Olivier Audience Award for ‘Most Popular Show’.

But I have to say that I walked out of the theatre thinking how charmed I was by Glinda’s character, especially when she performed the song ‘Popular’, a key turning point where she tried to ‘Galindafy’, or improve, the outcast Elphaba.

If you want a night of music and revelry, watch Wicked. Some people say it’s overrated (I disagree) but more than 15 award nominations can’t be wrong. And you might just learn one splendiferous word or two.

POSTSCRIPT: Curve Café and Bar at the Vibe Hotel on Goulburn Street, Sydney is a great after-work spot for drinks sans the crazy Friday crowds. It’s also perfect for an early dinner before a show at the Capitol Threatre since it’s less than a 10-minute walk away.

I tried the starter plate of white anchovy, marinated olive and chilli flat bread with Murray river pink salt and butter (five out of five!) and for mains, I had the crispy-skinned barramundi fillet (better than the one I tried at a couple of five-star restaurants). Other guests said both the pan seared beef fillet and vegetable lasagna dishes were good, too.

So, does the Vibe Hotel and Wicked night out pass the “Would I take my mum, dad, brother, sister, auntie, uncle, lolo, lola and cool cousins there” test? Yes!

NIGHT OUT IN TOWN: Michelle watched Wicked as a guest of Vibe Hotel (111 Goulburn Street, Sydney).

This article was first published in the Australian Filipina newsletter.

It was around 4.30pm-ish by the time I got to the park. It was still full of people doing all sorts of activities – horse riding, bar-b-que, footy, birdwatching, talking, walking … all the stuff Sundays are made of.

I, on the other hand, had another thing on my mind. The colossal breakfast I had at my mom’s only a few hours ago. It’s a classic Filipino breakfast. Corned beef and onions, eggplant omelette and a bucket of just-cooked steamed, white rice. I also had three cups of French vanilla coffee with dairy creamer. I’m pretty sure the calorie intake from that one sitting alone was twice what I should consume over two days.

That ‘meal’ was enough for me to set a new goal today. Instead of my usual two laps (7km run), I thought I’d do three laps and go harder.

Well, I reached my goal of completing 10k-plus but I didn’t run as hard as I wanted to, nor as long as I should have (I alternated 10min run/5min walk over and over and three 1-minute sprints over 80 minutes). I do have a good excuse: it was too good a day to run without pausing long enough to observe what was around me. Sore, but happy!

Start of first lap. The sign 'No Lunging' caught my eye. Are they referring to the horses or humans?

Running inside the fence. Late afternoon running is great. It's not too hot but not too cold, either.

Family and friends having a picnic. Best things in life still free!

A refreshing contrast to the urban jungle only half an hour away.

Second lap: people starting to leave. Pond looks serene.

Capturing the magic of sunset, even if it's with a low-res iPhone camera.

Was this the third lap? I can't remember. Bliss.

He’s grabbing headlines again in yet another controversial play: a half a million dollar bet against the Chinese currency collapsing, which could net him as much as US$100 million if proven right.

I haven’t checked whether this deal is true (not surprisingly, he doesn’t talk to the media) so it could well be an urban legend of the finance variety. But if it was, and he got the Greek debt risk right, then global markets are facing a market outlier of epic proportions.

A respected US-based fund manager said that while he doesn’t think the Chinese renminbi would collapse against the US dollar (the hows and whys would be too long to explain here), it is an impossibility made possible by stranger-than-fiction investment world we live in today.

That seems to be the running theme for many investors: expect the unexpected. From bond managers reassessing sovereign risks (p.1) to exchange-traded funds becoming a product of choice in certain assets (p.16), the ground beneath the markets could remain unstable for years to come.

The question is, how will the local industry respond to an environment that is increasingly global? When a hedge fund trade in Texas can give some insight on extreme investment scenarios that, insane as they seem, could happen?

Yes, the world is upside down but it’s not going to end. Investors will find a way out of the next ‘unexpected’ crisis, but fortunes might just favour the brave – and the crazy.

Anyway, it’s probably because I’m a local that I much prefer to see the Sydney invisible to the tourist eye. The one that looks quite ordinary, y’know. The photos that you don’t upload on Facebook. Looking at these photos now (see below), they do look quite bland. But there’s a story behind them. Or, to me, there’s a story yet to be told behind them. Many runners like running in and around parks. I prefer to navigate through this concrete jungle I call my home.

The group’s two-hour show at the Enmore Theatre in Sydney finished more than an hour ago and was a huge success. Their rendition of global hit ‘Where is the love?’ drew a standing ovation. The song is a track from their latest album Elephunk, which is certified gold in the US, the UK and the Philippines.

But rather than talk about the show, something else is on his mind. His grumbling stomach. ‘Do you know where we can get food?’ he asks. The last time he ate was over eight hours ago when he bought a meal from KFC (Kentucky Fried Chicken).

Hang on. KFC? What happened to living it up and dining on seafood and wine at a five-star hotel somewhere?

This little fact speaks volumes about apl.de.ap. He is the antithesis of the archetypal ghetto-fabulous rapper. There are no bodyguards around, no Ludacris-style gold medallions swinging from his neck and definitely none of that ‘pass the Courvoisier’ lifestyle.

And so, at 1am in the morning, we headed to a café in the scenic district of Circular Quay, overlooking the Sydney Opera House, to get food. As he tucks into a plate of chicken satay with rice (”I gotta have some rice,” he says), apl.de.ap talks about his Filipino heritage, his music and the success of Black Eyed Peas.

Who is apl.de.ap?

Apl.de.ap, real name Allan Pineda-Lindell (hence the initials ‘apl’), was born on the 28^th of November 1974 in Pampanga, Philippines. His mom is Filipina and his birth dad is African-American. He left the Philippines in 1989 and is based in Los Angeles. In LA, he met will.i.am, real name William Adams. They formed a breakdance crew in the early 90s that later spawned Black Eyed Peas (BEP). The two other members of the group are Jaime ‘Taboo’ Gomez and Stacy ‘Fergie’ Ferguson.

Despite leaving the country 15 years ago, Apl has not forgotten his roots. He can speak Tagalog and is fluent in his native dialect Pampagueno. He says: “You meet Filipinos who say they can’t speak Tagalog and you think, wait, I can make out your Filipino accent.” Chuckles.

The Apl Song

This off-the-cuff remark gives a glimpse of Apl’s character. He is intensely patriotic and draws on his Filipino heritage for inspiration. One of the songs in BEP’s album ‘Elephunk’ is called ‘the apl song’, which talks about his childhood experience. It contains elements from Philippine folk group Asin’s Balita.

The song was inspired by a personal tragedy in his life. Apl composed it after his brother committed suicide three years ago. He says: “I spoke to him on the phone and I thought ‘something is wrong, something is wrong’ and that I needed to go home. But I was too late. Two weeks later, he committed suicide.” It is this attempt to reach out to him that was reflected in the lines:

‘Oh brother, wish I could have helped you out.’

His brother’s  death, which Apl believed was caused by drug-induced depression, spurred him to make changes to his own life. Apl used to do hard drugs (‘a lot of Filipinos use shabu in LA) but is now completely rehabilitated.

Filipino folk music

Apl’s music is very much influenced by Filipino folk songs. He says: “There are so many that are really good. Last time I went back to the Philippines (he spent six days there over the Christmas break), everyone wanted to sound like Chingy (an up-and-coming U.S. based rapper) and I’m like, I want to listen to the old stuff.”
If you compare the guitar play in ‘the apl song’ and ‘where is the love?’,you would probably hear some resemblance. He says: “Where is the love? has been influenced by the apl song.”

Back to his homeland

Apl can’t wait to go to the Philippines in May where Black Eyed Peas will stage a concert for the first time. He says: “It is a reward for all the hard work we’ve put in the past. For some people, their idea of a reward might be going on holidays in Africa or somewhere but to me, it’s about going back to my country and being able to perform there.”

His fond memories of the Philippines harks back to his life as a young ‘man of the land’: riding and milking carabaos (water buffalos), planting root crops, climbing coconut trees and fetching water out of communal water pumps.

Back in the days when he was poor? “I didn’t think it was bad or that I was poor growing up like that at all. I was happy.” Like the lines in his song:

Some would call it hell but to me it was heaven.

From carabaos to California

At 14 years of age, Apl’s destiny took a different turn. He migrated to America thanks to the help of a stranger, who became his stepdad. Apl explains that when he was a child, his mother signed him up to a foundation where people from the U.S. help support Amerasian kids. The man assigned to him offered him a sponsorship.

“I had poor eyesight when I was young and despite that, I was making good grades. I think he took pity on me and wanted me to go to the US so I can get my eyes fixed,” Apl says.

And so in 1992, he left his family and boarded a plane to Los Angeles. “I hated sunsets for a long time because it was sunset when I left home.”

The plane trip alone was scary enough for the young teenager but on arrival, Apl faced a bigger problem. He didn’t know how to speak English. “On my first day, I sat on the couch for eight hours not saying anything because I didn’t know how to say what I wanted to say in English.”

Black Eyed Peas rocking the red carpet

Black Eyed Peas’ success

Fast forward to more than a decade later and he was signed up by a record company doing what he grew to love: dicing and splicing the English language as a rapper.

What is his advice to those who want to follow his footsteps? “You just got to put in the hard work. Will and I used to practice everyday, even trying to come up with new steps or new ideas.”

As for their success: “I’m still overwhelmed by it. To me, everything is a blessing from God. But y’know, it took us ten years to get the recognition. We’re just so glad to be busy.”

From gigs in nightclubs to selling out arenas, the Peas have arrived. And Apl is smiling. Not bad for the young kid who used to milk water buffalos and plant root crops with his bare hands. As the sun set on that fateful day he boarded the plane to the US, little did he know what awaited him.

As he explains in his tribute to his homeland:

We’re makin’ it happen, from nothing to somethin’.

So he has.

POSTSCRIPT: October 2, 2009: my radio interview with Apl will be aired between 9.15am to 9.40am www.radio2rdj.com or 88.1 fm.

Many of the articles/book reviews I’ve read so far on Moyo repeat the same chapter and verse about her book Dead Aid (how Live Aid is bad for Africa) and her background (Ivy League-educated, super-achieving parents).

Dambisa Moyo, author of Dead Aid

But no matter how unoriginal the articles are, the truth keeps shining through. After all, how many people have the gumption to say that charities endorsed by well-respected celebrities will ultimately keep struggling nations economically stagnant?

Not that Moyo is the first to say this about First World charity. It’s been discussed in academic circles before. But Moyo is not your typical economist – no sign of grey hair, oversized spectacles and a mustard bow tie here. Instead you have an absolutely stunning and incredibly smart woman going against the grain. Moving mountains with her intellectual menace.

Question: If Moyo had been your stereotypical economist – more specifically, white and male – would her “idea” generate as much publicity and debate?

Answer: Perhaps not. But the good thing is that we finally arrived at a point when we can have a better debate on a perennial issue: world peace (barring the question of faith, aren’t all forms of discord a question of money?).

As a finance journalist and a Filipino-Australian migrant, I know exactly what Moyo is talking about. In a roundabout way, sending money to the Philippines has the perverse effect of creating an uneven playing field between those who have to work hard for their money and those who rely on others for their income (but this raises a whole ‘nother set of issues outside finance and more to do with the Filipino culture).

The difference is that while my views largely rested on a hunch, hers were on hard data. Easy money on a grand scale can cripple countries, as corrupt politicians have shown time and time again.

So, I tip my hat to her. That said, Bono, Oprah and Sir Geldof all had good intentions but it’s high time to change tack. Let Eastern Europe take centre stage. Let China rise again. Let India shine. Let Africa spring back to its old, glorious self.

It’s high time economic power is distributed evenly around the world, not just in certain pockets.

Note: Moyo will be at the Sydney Opera House early next month as part of the “Festival of Dangerous Ideas”, an inaugural event co-presented by the Sydney Opera House and the St. James Ethics Centre. More info on www.sydneyoperahouse.com/Dangerous. See you there!

The English language continues to evolve. What’s interesting is that only a few decades from now, China will become the country with the largest number of English-speaking citizens. Imagine the wave of writers coming from that region who will embed their Chinese language syntax and grammar on top of their acquired technical knowledge of English to produce English-based books and novels. Even if only a fraction of them turn out to be any good, China will still be a serious treasure trove of English works – much like the golden age of English literature during Queen Elizabeth’s reign.

Merlinda Bobis and Arlene J. Chai are perfect examples of Filipino writers giving new depth to the English language. Their novels are in English but I can feel the rhythm and pace that only comes with a writer whose first or second language is Tagalog.

On the more formidable issue of English grammar, it’s interesting to contrast English teachers here in Australia and in the Philippines. My Year 11/Year 12 English teacher was given the same respect as teachers in other subjects. English was just like any other and you either pass or fail.

In contrast, I remember that my schoolmates and I used to come to our first year high school English class with our knees quaking. I found that my English teacher in the Phils is higher up the food chain and gets more respect than, say, the Filipino or the History teacher. God forbid you mess with the subject-verb-object (S-V-O) sentence structure! My (Filipino) English teacher was a total grammar Nazi in class while my (Australian) English teacher was never too concerned about it.

That is why, my dear friends, that Filipinos are good at spotting “it’s” versus “its” and “your” versus “you’re”.

And to this day, I credit my Filipino English teacher for my love of writing.

I’m just glad she’s not going to read this email and find me start a sentence with “and”!

***

I’m still mourning the loss of a great contemporary writer, Frank McCourt, author of Angela’s Ashes. I remember reading it and crying so hard my eyes became sore. His death came only weeks after the death of a legendary Australian journalist/editor, Frank Devine.

I feel like I should wear a black armband to pay them respects. Their deaths coincide with the period when journalism is under threat and schools are in desperate need of inspirational English teachers.

R.I.P.

x

You know you’re on to a good thing when your book is available at Tesco. Anthony Bolton, one of the world’s leading fund managers, has a new book out called “Investing Against The Tide”, a complimentary copy of which landed on my desk last week courtesy of Fidelity’s local office.

I am looking forward to reading it. So much so that I am already blogging about it. I’ve only just finished reading Geraldine Brooks’ heart-wrenching novel “March” (I say heart-wrenching because in my eyes, Jo’s absent dad, Mr. March, was supposed to be perfect!) and was hoping to write a review on it but I am distracted by the prospect of sitting on the couch and reading Bolton’s book.

Like most impatient people who suffer from OCD (Okay, I don’t, except when it comes to books. Maybe.), I went straight to page 195. It’s the good stuff titled “How the industry has changed” (could have worked more on the chapter title but, it is what it is). And then, even better, the next chapter titled “Some thoughts on the future of investment management” (hmmm, I guess the book editor thought there’s no point being creative on the chapter headings here).

Skimming through it, there are goodies like “forget the price you paid for shares” (uhm, why?) and the dead obvious like “buy companies that have a M&A angle” (ya think?).

I guess sometimes the industry needs a reminder. The more things change, the more things stay the same. The basic tenets of investing, as in “buy quality, undervalued stocks”, will always ring true while a highly geared, dodgy company by any another name is guaranteed to lose you money.

Now to read the book – proper, like – enough with the blogging already.

It’s 6.18pm on a Sunday when I stumbled on some “old” news: Vibe Magazine folded more than a week ago and shut its doors just as the editorial team was working on the Tribute edition for Michael Jackson.

I have read editions of The Source but liked the vibe of Vibe more.

Just like that. This past couple of years have been a period of several heartbreaks for me as one prestigious publication folded one after the other. It felt like all these literary masters standing in line on death row!

First, there was the demise of the Bulletin, home to Australia’s elite writers. Then the news of mainstream newspapers in the US, all of whom boast Pulitzer Prize-winning investigative journalists, also down the drain.

Thank God for the few papers still running although I am scared that they, too, are on borrowed time.

I am torn because I like Twitter. I am awed by its power to spread information in record time. I am even looking forward to the next breakthrough in technology.

But it makes me wonder. Where to, for journalists? For real in-the-street, work-till-the-sun-comes-out, write-for-as-long-as-it-takes-to-get-it-perfect journalism? I embrace citizen journalism and its influence on what we know about what’s going on in China or Iran as events unfold. But part of me wishes that there are still publishers out there who don’t want their journalists to upload news as they happen but are willing to give them six months to write a good piece – not a day, not an hour, not a second.

So, what’s next?

No doubt niche publications with low overheads will survive. I do agree, as Adriana Huffington has recommended, that the only way investigative journalism will thrive is through the support of non-profit organisations, much like the arts and sciences (although we know how much money go into those.)

At least there are scores of books and novels that the more discerning reader can still go to for an enjoyable read.

In the meantime, I say a little prayer for all the journalists around the world busting their guts to get a good story only to have the rug pulled from under them. A toast to your talents and may you all get through these interesting times.

Thank you, Vibe! Here’s to your resurrection (I’m certain of it), in one form or another.

I am glad I read all the Obituaries written about him this morning. On the whole, the media did a good job although it feels like they are part compensating for the ‘trial by media’ that MJ had to endure for most of his life.

It is a shame that no story on Michael would be complete without a mention of the Bashir interview. No 40-something year old man in his right mind would be hanging out with kids the way he did. And in my line of work, where there’s smoke, there’s fire.

Still, the first rule of journalism is to go to the original source. There is too much white noise, too many hearsay and too many vested interests for me to decide either way.

But what’s indisputable, what’s irrefutable and what’s immutable is that he was a man of talent, of vision and was one-of-a-kind.

So in his passing, I choose to remember his musical legacy. His albums “Off the Wall” and “Thriller” were musical revelations. To this day, I listen to his music and wonder how he could have composed them more than two decades ago.

To Michael, thank you for sharing your gift and may you rest in peace.