I guess no one in the global Chinese diaspora has not heard of the name “Chua Lam”. He was not just a person’s name, but a kind of branding and life aesthetics that’s both easy-going and classy, too.

It was disheartening, though not entirely unexpected, when news of his death on June 25 broke. He was 83.

Born in Singapore in 1941, Chua Lam pursued his studies in Japan before settling down in Hong Kong. He was a man of the cinema as well as a writer, calligrapher, painter, food connoisseur, and a seasoned traveller, among many other identities.

In his own words: “These titles are all impractical.” To me, his most fitting identity had always been an “ordinary man” who practiced the beauty of mono no aware all his life.

Mono no aware is a Japanese way of life – a sentiment towards the impermanence of life, and the appreciation for every beautiful moment in one’s daily life. And Chua Lam was veritably the best personification of such a life philosophy.

He would not go after opulence and success, and was in constant recognition of the fact that life could be a many-splendoured thing despite its shortness.

He ate, wrote, travelled and laughed, living every single minute and second of his life seriously and joyously. He was someone who deserved to be remembered and liked. As a matter of fact, I had always thought of him, but never did so outwardly, as he would have made fun of my folly.

To me, Chua Lam was not the passionate “God of Cookery” that everyone claimed; he had never actually accepted such a claim himself. “I’m no ‘God of Cookery’. I’m only a little fortunate to have more opportunities to enjoy good food than others,” he once said.

The writer and Chua Lam during one of their first collaborations nearly a decade ago.

Chua Lam was a rather mischievous old boy who would sit by my side just talking about life and travelling, while having supper together.

But other than having a little more wisdom in how to interact with people, Chua Lam was not any different from anyone else.

We first met in 2011, when he was already 70 but still appearing more energetic and lively than me. He did not like to talk about the past, but rather, about good food. He loved to eat, and to enjoy good food with a group of like-minded people.

We put together our popular “Travelling With Lee & Lam” tour packages, going to onsen resorts in Japan’s “Snow Country”, lively night markets in Taiwan, and durian farms in Malaysia, as well as checking out food stalls at the Kowloon Tong market in Hong Kong.

He always said things like, “We eat not to fill our stomachs, but to be happy.”

As for travelling, he used to say that it is to reconfirm that life’s journey is worth taking.

His philosophy of travelling bears a lot of resemblance to the wabi-sabi life aesthetics – simple, liberal, accommodating, and with a passion that traverses the journey of life.

In 2016, we became “sworn brothers”, and officiated it with a grand ceremony in Kuala Lumpur. He once advised me that life was too short to wait for things to happen. And he was very serious about this.

He would never entertain people hypocritically, or be pretentious towards them. He strictly kept his promises, and would still make every effort to attend all his appointments even after he grew weaker.

On Dec 1, 2024, we organised our sixth leg of the Travelling With Lee & Lam tour to Hong Kong, during which some 20 travel buddies joined us for lunch. Although Chua Lam was obviously in pain, he still attended it, just as he promised.

Anyone present could tell that he was a sincere and passionate man.

We didn’t have too much to talk about that day, but our hearts were lit up because of his physical presence.

Chua Lam used to talk a lot during these tours, and I must confess that I never wrote down all that he said, as I believed he would always be with us.

I remember that he once said this: “I thought I would live very long when I was young, but I discovered later that it is way more important to live well than to have a long life.”

The writer (right) and Chua Lam entertaining their travel buddies during a trip to Taiwan.

Though he did not like to tell people what to do, he was actually teaching others quietly through his actions. “I’m not teaching you the philosophy of life. I’m only showing you how I live,” he once said.

To me, Chua Lam has not “passed on”, but instead he is moving into the hearts of people like me who will always remember him and learn to live our lives just as he did.

There’s no lengthy and tear-jerking farewells for him, only kind words, lots of cheerful laughter, and with a reminder of his powerful advice – life is too short to keep waiting for things to happen.

Now I know that living life to the fullest is itself immortal.

P/S: Because of Chua Lam, I have decided to “let go” of the first half of my life, and embark on a brand new chapter in my life. Would you care to join me in this new journey?

The views expressed here are entirely the writer’s own.

Leesan, the globe-trotting traveller who has visited seven continents and 149 countries, enjoys sharing his travel stories and insights. He has also authored six books.