The Hobbit

Yesterday after teaching for 6 solid hours without a break, I went to watch The Hobbit with Ianthe and Jiahui. I was completely exhausted, but the excitement of the movie kept me going. Hooray.

Today during lunch I realised that it had been a good number of days, exactly a week ago to be exact, that I managed to have a good sit-down lunch without a million things needing to be addressed weighing on my mind. Similarly tonight, after work, Jean and I managed to grab a nice dinner together. A proper dinner without rushing or eating trash. Hooray.

I can't wait for 4pm tomorrow when my work week will be over. So tired! My thoughts are becoming incoherent. 

Preserved Vegetable Soup

It's been a hell of a hectic week, and looks like this upcoming week is going to be one too. YE GADS.

So on the I-hate-my-fucking-schedule part, there has been no proper change, but I've spoken to a few people and they've promised change of sorts shortly. Also I've spoken to my mentor and she's helping me too. So fingers crossed on that end. I am grudgingly plodding along in the meantime.

One of those classes in the branch-I-hate is a damned class. They have abandonment issues stemming from their last two teachers, who dropped them like hot potatoes in favour of other things. At the same time, I've never seen a class with so many argumentative and talkative students stuffed together in one room. Last week, out of the blue, one even randomly said to me, "if my mother was like you, everything would be a disaster". Then he went on to act normally for the rest of the class. BLAH. That was the last class of my entire teaching week too, so needless to say I was extremely perturbed. Damnit, I do dread dealing with that class.

Today I got called for a last minute class, which threw a veritable monkey wrench into my plans. As a result, I ended up rushing the whole day to teach that one class. At least the children were incredibly cute, because they were only 8. One boy even proudly told me he wasn't even 8 yet, because his birthday was on 20th Dec. Needless to say, it was odd when they asked me whether they could go to the bathroom, and I said yes, and they stared at me expectantly. It wasn't until I wondered why they were not going, and getting pestered a second time ('Ms. Wong, Ms. Wong, I really need to go to the toilet urgently!') did I realise that I was supposed to escort them to the bathroom. Oops. Well, I've never taught such a young lot before.

Last week Wednesday, I came home extra late from the branch-I-hate and found my mother oddly asleep on my bed. I woke her up when I came into the room, and she told me that she had bad news to tell me. As my mind raced of all possible horrid scenarios (someone died, she got fired...), she said "your brother broke your laptop". Uh.

Stunned, I walked over to my desk and removed the handwritten note that she'd placed on top of the laptop. Most perversely, I noted the laptop had been put back together nicely, like a completed puzzle. When I lifted it however, the screen came off from the keyboard and the speaker bit fell off onto the table. WTF. When I spread it out flat, it looked like this:

I spent the rest of the week and the weekend mourning the unnecessary death of my laptop, all the while wondering HOW it was POSSIBLE for something like that to happen. On Monday when I finally cracked and went to buy a new laptop, I spoke briefly about the problem to the Epicentre guy, and he suggested it had been dropped from a height when it was open. Bloop.

So anyway, spanking new laptop. Not that I wanted one though. The thought of the added expenditure depresses me to no end.

-----

For the past two nights, with dinner, we've been drinking this awesome preserved vegetable soup. It was given to my grandma recently by our remaining family in Guangzhou. An update since then: the old man died a few years ago, but our families are still in touch. His wife, the lady holding up the baby in the photo, made the preserved vegetables herself. Boiled in soup with chicken bones, it's the best preserved vegetable soup I've ever tasted. The soup tastes also buttery, with a definite umami sort of lingering taste. For a simple and homemade ingredient, it's one of the best I've have. I have since concluded it's the amount of love (ohoho cheese alert!) that they've put into making it that makes it taste so wonderful.

Joaquin is coming in less than 2 weeks! I'm greatly excited :)

Tired and Depressed

It's the end of Week 10 and I feel miserable. This week I got an assignment that sent me to the faraway branch of M/s L two days a week indefinitely temporarily. It takes me about 1 hour 20 mins to travel each way. That means I'm deprived of sleep. At the same time, I dislike the area because food isn't readily available, unlike the other branches. To top it off, colleagues who joined after me managed to get their permanent assignments, while HR is still fumbling with mine. One colleague was randomly given a Saturday class of 10 year olds that I really adored.

I'm just so frustrated and unhappy that I don't really know how to begin.

Really, really frustrated and unhappy. 

End of Week 9

Today I finished teaching my last classes of Week 9 since I've started work, which makes upcoming Monday the beginning of Week 10 for me. I don't know why, but I still like the idea of keeping count although it's ultimately pointless. Makes me sort of realise perhaps, how far I've come.

Last week for example, I discovered my demon voice. That is, I finally broke the shouting barrier. I'm the sort of person that likes to be as un-angry and un-upset as possible, and I tend to yell only when I'm very upset. Well last week when I was teaching a class of 9 year olds, I finally managed to break that taboo and shout at them to quieten down, even though I wasn't actually angry but afraid they were causing too much noise. Then they ended up staring at me wide-eyed for a while, before resuming their shenanigans a short while later. Kids. Nothing fazes them.

This week was kind of miserable. I ended having to rush planning and deal with mountains of (still unfinished) marking, and I'm not a fan of having to rush anything. I was called to emergency work late on Tuesday, and on Thursday I stayed back of my own accord to finish up some marking. I realised that I hadn't eaten dinner with my family at home since last Saturday! Boo. Hiss.

Today also marked a sort of landmark for me. While teaching a class of 10 year olds (which I taught last week and really liked!), one of the boys got really upset and threatened/stared down the kid next to him, and I had to step in to diffuse the situation. It worked the first time, and then I went back to teaching again, only for the same thing to erupt again later. It transpired that the boy (according to the kids after class too) was kind of sensitive, and the other students had taken it upon their tiny shoulders to tease him so he could become 'stronger'. I tried very hard not to face palm when I heard that from the girls. Solid reasoning? I have no idea.

Though that being said, I feel sad that I won't get to teach them anymore. They were really a lovely class and I grew fond of them from just two lessons. One of the girls asked me afterwards why I was so weird compared to the other teachers in the centre, who were 'so serious and practical'. I consider that an immense compliment. I just hoped it meant they actually learned something from when I taught them.

Earlier on Tuesday, I was extremely pleased by something my mentor told me. She said that she saw how patiently I handled one of the students last time I was in her class, and that she decided to follow my lead. I was so happy at hearing that I thought I'd burst. Imagine! Me! Being all inspirational and shit! Oh my indeed. And apparently after trying my method, the student had started improving lots in her class, which again I was really happy to hear. Miracle case apparently, lol.

My mentor also offered me a lift back home, which I gladly took. On the way back, I mentioned a bit about Ryan and his severe autism, and her reaction was 'AIYA, no wonder you're so patient with E (the student's name)!' So, HAHAHA, I guess growing up with a brother like that has had a tangible effect on me. Hooray for little things.

A Link

Stumbled upon Disappointments Diary 2013 while randomly surfing the internet and marking papers, and found myself incredibly ticked by the idea. In an fitting move (on the topic of being negative and all doom and gloom), I just noticed the sky suddenly grow really dark. When I started marking just 20 minutes ago, the sky was in no way this dark. It is definitely going to rain by the looks of it. Not that I mind rain much though. 

So anyway, giggle giggle at 'everything happens for a terrifyingly random reason'. 

Vertigo

On Wednesday to Thursday, I fell sick with Vertigo (is that grammatically correct?). I also learnt, as I fell sick and felt like shite, that Vertigo doesn't refer to a fear of heights (which is acrophobia), but rather to a specific type of dizziness. We have dear Alfred Hitchcock and his famous movie, Vertigo to thank for that, as the main character suffers from both Vertigo and Acrophobia. SO ANYWAY: I was down with Vertigo from Wednesday to Thursday, and boy did I feel wretched. All bodily movement had a strange effect on my brain, and my limbs felt like they were swimming in a thick soup of air. It took me an entire day of suffering (which I described to a colleague as being stuck in a dubstep song) to realise the appropriate word for what I felt was dizzy/giddy. LOL.

Today I got really irritated with my regular students, and wanted to throttle them. Good thing I didn't. Instead I punished them by making them read out loud excerpts from a local politicians extremely long and fairly dry speech. HUR HUR HUR.

Taught a grand total of (almost) 3 back to back classes today. By the third class I felt quite deadened and worn out. Luckily this class was a generally cooperative lot. I ended up being one of the last to leave the office, which was a strange feeling. Also when I finally got off my second bus to walk from the bus stop home, I felt my knees almost buckle underneath me. I am definitely going to wear flats to work tomorrow.

Tomorrow I have to teach two classes, both younger 'uns than the lot I'm used to reckoning with. God be with me.

Also, tomorrow marks the beginning of my second month working for M/s L.

Prawn Mee and Grading

After blogging earlier I realised there WAS something that I wanted, that money could buy: a subscription to The Week magazine via Pansing in Singapore. Since they're national distributers of The Week in Singapore, they also offer home delivery services too. But boy do their prices make me cry inside at $468 for a year. I guess I should just stick to buying individuals issues to read when I have the spare time.

Today for dinner we went to Zion Road Hawker Centre to eat, because my Dad really wanted to have char kway teow. I followed him when he went to order barbecued chicken wings and chanced upon a prawn mee store that I never knew existed. The store had actually yet to open but already there were two guys waiting in front. Intrigued, I went to investigate and saw lots of luscious looking raw prawns sitting in the window. Just then the shutters flew open and the men jumped up to queue, plus a woman appeared from no where and joined the queue behind them. I decided to join the queue too, and as I waited I noticed the various accolades the store had won. One of them, most notably, was from Makansutra which rated the store as 2 and a half chopsticks. LOL.

When I finally got my food, I was extremely excited. Fuelling my mood was the fact that a veritable queue had sprung up behind me in the 5 or so minutes I had waited in line. The first thing I did when I got to the table was sip the soup and whoahhh was it good and rich in prawn broth. Mmmm. I also had a stick of satay and a chicken wing too. By the time I'd finished everything, I was right and proper stuffed.

GOOD MEAL.

Came home and have been grading papers on and off till now. Such is my new life.

Yesterday Was 10.11.12

Yesterday when I was teaching, the students asked me for the date. I told them it was the 9th November, to which they replied 'but it was the 9th yesterday!' We all then started checking the date and realised loo and behold it was 10.11.12. Then I tried to teach them palindromes and sort of failed. I thought of example of 19.11.1911 which was uh, more than a hundred years ago, and really isn't a palindrome. One student however, knew what I meant and gave me a proper example from this year, which saved the day (and the point I was trying to teach them). Hooray.

During my first class early yesterday morning, I received the good news that my last class was cancelled. I could not stop beaming like an idiot throughout the rest of the class. I even told the kids and  tried to fake get them excited alongside me, but they were too jaded for that. Oh well.

So I managed to get home around 3:45pm yesterday, and finally managed to have my lunch then. I got takeaway salad from the Holland Village MRT. Then I fell into bed and slept for a good 3-4 hours. When I finally got up, I felt horrid, like a truck had hit me. I had fallen into an extremely deep sleep and all my muscles had switched off or something. The same thing happened this morning when my parents tried to wake me and failed spectacularly. I could not be woken.

I finally got up around 11am when my parents rang the house and asked me how Ryan was. Then I sort of shot up (or sort of snapped slightly awake from slumber) and went off to look for him. I had actually been tasked with looking after him while my parents went off to church, and I had evidently slept through it all. Much to my relief Ryan was just sitting docilely in the living room looking bored. Nothing looked out of place or destroyed. So all good. Except the moment I came down, he bolted right to the kitchen and in front of my eyes, snatched up a bar of chocolate hidden in the deep recesses of the fridge and ate 3/4 of the bar. Uh ok.

So later during lunch with my extremely old grandmother (Mum's side), Ryan was practically vibrating off his seat and hopping about. I LOL-ed.

After lunch we went to Uncle KL's place to hang out for a bit, then swim. There, I managed to chat to him for a bit and he asked me what I wanted for Christmas. That sort of got me thinking again about Christmas, and rather self-centeredly about myself and what I actually wanted. Answer is, I want lots of things, but none of them quite tangible or small.

For example I want to be more healthy and less sickly. I want to be able sleep a good amount every night. I want to be close to myself and I want to have a strong relationship with Joaquin. I also want to be able to connect with my students more, and be a good teacher. I want to travel to Peru to see the Machu Picchu, the Bolivian Salt Flats and Patagonia in Chile. I want to visit Cuba. I'd love to have a fabulous wardrobe. Maybe get a cute ginger cat that I'd call a stupid name like Herbert or something. I want to adopt a Cambodian child, finished reading and actually like War and Peace and go trekking again.

It's not that I don't really know what I want, I do. It's just that they're not quite things that a mere Christmas present can fulfill! 

There's No Antidote

Today, after dragging myself out of bed from two straight exhausting days at work, I got hit with yet another class to relief teach. Not only would I have to prepare extra materials in order to teach this class,  I also had to stay back 2 and a half hours past my normal working time to teach it. At the same time, I still faced a veritable mound of marking and preparation work for my other classes on Friday and Saturday. I suppose it went without saying that I was incredibly unhappy with this development. I was raging inside, from the unfairness and frustation of it all. I had been reduced to an angry, pouty child.

So sitting there, in front of my laptop and seething, I decided to look for the angriest music I could think of: Swedish House Mafia vs. Knife Party's Antidote. Now while music itself is inherently insipid dance music, the full music video is anything but. It was one of the best, most violent and inappropriate music videos I had ever seen. And, I associated the music with the video. So as I sat there angrily typing out teaching notes and materials, I pretended I was one of the masked gang members in the video shooting rival gangsters, hopping on tables and such. After playing the song on repeat for at least 10 times, I felt much better.

This week has been a crazily hectic week for me. I have to teach 7 classes in total which is a new record for me, although a normal teaching schedule is often 10 classes a week. The biggest problem however is that of these 7 classes, the material only overlaps in 2 of these classes. That means I have a grand total of 6 classes to prepare for, that is at least 12 hours of preparation to do. THAT, is madness. Coupled with the fact that I have marking given to me by other teachers, I am sinking under a pile of work. 

I just keep telling myself to think about next week, when I get 3 days off in a row, thanks to Deepavali. 

Now, just 2 more days of this continuous craziness to reckon with before I can take a 3 day break.

Mayday, It's Payday

A fool and her money are soon parted, as so the (gender relevant in this instance) saying goes. And I, am a huge fool. For instance, just when I thought I'd done my usual round of donations on Kiva, I spotted this which piqued my curiosity. I thought it was an interesting idea so whoosh, there went another SGD36 from my pocket.

Yesterday my bank account had just 50 cents left. I had spent my last paycheck paying off all my loans from friends and my Mum, that sustained me throughout Summer in London. I have never felt so terrified of hole-in-the-walls/ATMs as much as I have been this year, from being constantly broke over Summer to broke in the awful month of October.

This month, I'm expecting a wee bit more pain to the pocket. I need/want to pay for my Dad's birthday dinner, and then there's upcoming Christmas (which I seem to be already planning for) gifts to reckon with. Whoosh money indeed.

-----

Today I had a fantastic class. Out of the supposed 7 students that were supposed to turn up, 4 did, and 1 wasn't even on the original list. Anyway it wasn't because of the small number that class was fantastic, it was because it was a class for students who has missed the original lesson for that week - that meant I got a mishmash of people from various classes, all who didn't know each other. To clarify, that means they don't know each other, and therefore are extremely unlikely to make trouble during class. After my past experiences with doing relief teaching, I was overjoyed with this lot.

I complimented them during class multiple times and told them they were angels. Although they were quiet, they were responsive. Plus seeing their smiles meant a lot more to me, as I knew it was directly caused by something I had said or done. Teaching that class was therapeutic, and did way more for me than anything I can conceivably think of now. Lovely, lovely kids.

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Last night I stayed up late reading Asa Nonami's Now You're One of Us. I started reading around 12 midnight when I went down to eat supper, and finished it at 2:45am. I could not, LITERALLY, put the book down. I found it absolutely terrifying and spine-chilling. I just had to find out what would happen in the end. When I finally finished it, I didn't even feel relief, for I just felt my whole body tense from the suspense and sheer disgust. For the 99% of people out there who will not read the book, here's the storyline: a cult-incestuous-family that uses drugs to keep daughters-in-law in. It reminded me of the Aum Shinrikyo Cult video I showed my students, on the methods the cult used to lure/keep members.

Needless to say, I was utterly exhausted today because of a lack of sleep.

Now I need to read something mild again, to relax my mind. 

Christmas Cards in October

I know it's still 2 months away, but I've already started to think of Christmas. Not so much thinking about what I want (heavens knows what I want, cause I hardly know myself) but more like thinking what to get for others. Anyway I've just spent over $100 on Christmas cards and wee gifts (OH MY GOD WHAT WAS I THINKING?!) from Etsy, the original money sucker. Thank goodness I have a job (for now at least) that allows me to sustain my silly purchases, like donating endless amounts of money to Kiva or sponsoring community projects on Kickstarter.

Perhaps I should just read more/watch more Peep Show. Then I'd be too distracted to go looking for things to do with my money. 

Ugly Stickers

It's the 6th week since I've started working in my first real job (although I mistakenly told a senior teacher I was observing last week that it was my 7th week then). I've finally worked long enough to kinda lose count as to when I've started working, which says something I guess. I had to check a desk calendar to count the weeks properly.

Work so far has its up and downs. Usually I'm so bored of myself/sleeping/reading/doing nothing that by Tuesday I'm raring to go. By Thursday/Friday I find that I can't wake up and Saturday is usually a whole day of me sitting stunned at my desk. Of course tonight is Monday night and I'm (excitedly?) thinking of what I need to do tomorrow when I get to work, thinking about the classes I need to plan and etc. Then of course you need to factor in Classes From Hell which I seem to be the only one of the newbies getting, which stresses me to such astronomical levels and whittles away at my self-confidence to such an extent that I feel that I either ought to be fired or quit before I get fired. Arghgarghbargh.

Hopefully my classes this week will be good.

-----

Today my brother managed to spent 2 hours eating his dinner. I don't know how he managed to do that, but I found it annoying for some reason.

I'm currently reading The Sisters Brothers, which I started on Saturday evening, and it's proving to be a real enjoyable read. In Littlebourne with Joaquin, we used to play Antonio's Red Dead Redemption. The Sisters Brothers reminds me quite a lot of Red Dead Redemption. Similar Wild West setting, the archetypical sort of characters, and the same sort of absurd many-happenings. It'll probably make my 2012 Top Ten List.

Pseudoephedrine

Yesterday I finally gave in and went to see the doctor. After weeks of insisting that I was not sick in a curable sense - I was merely allergic to the haze - I found out that I was sick in a curable sense. Given the cumulative loss to my standard of living over the past one month (and almost a month exactly it was to the date I came back home), I felt peeved. Like I had been cheated out of something, albeit by my own stubbornness. One of the medicines the doc gave me was pseudoephedrine, a truly peculiar drug.

According to wikipedia, pseudoephedrine is a commonly used drug-component fr a variety of reasons. The one applicable to me was as a nasal decongestant (hooray for finally being able to breathe out of my nose!) and the other is as a stimulant, to enhance waking. Now the strange thing is that for me, pseudoephedrine also makes me sleepy. But at the same time it makes my heart race. This means that it makes me fall into a strange trance whereby my brain slows down to a crawl while my heart thunders away. It is a very strange feeling.

I took my medication on the bus today, while on my way to work. An hour later, I was in a state that can only be described colloquially as feeling very gong. That is, I felt like someone had taken my head and smashed it into one of those large buddhist temple gongs. Stunned, into some strange twilight zone.

-----

Today I managed to return to a class I co-taught last week, because I wanted to spend more time with one of the students. This boy, quite a cute looking child I must add, seemed to be perpetually getting in trouble with the teacher. He was either unable or unwilling to follow instructions and pay attention to the teacher. It didn't help that he seemed to be a relatively weak student took. Last week I found myself taking him aside and going through everything that I had already done earlier with the other students. He had absorbed nothing of what I had said, and taken no notes down despite them being on the whiteboard. When I asked him to cross out a wrong answer, he responded by putting a little cross next to a string of wrong words -______-"

So anyway this week I returned back again. This time, I sat next to him as the teacher taught, and watched him to make sure he had the right worksheet, was on the right page and all. He was much better behaved this week, and actually seemed to be following the class. I also started to notice a few things about him, namely that he seemed like an anxious child. At the same time, he had lots of rubbish in his bag (complete with melted candy that made everything stick together) and his pencil case, which only made him MORE anxious when he tried to search for anything. Furthermore, I noticed that he had a strange habit of doubling up in laughter for a hell of a long time. Something that other students would laugh at for a few seconds, he would choke up in laughter for a full minute. Strange, but some how kinda cute.

The best moment came today when the class was doing a composition, and I turned to see him with his hands raised right up, looking intently at me. A few minutes later, he did the same. I was amazed because he simply waited there, patiently to get my attention. He didn't tap me (I was less than 50 cm away from him!) or ask for my attention. He just sat there with his arm up. LOL. And when he finally did get his attention, he said "teacher, can I ask a question?" and I went "huh, me?" forgetting that I was also in this context, a teacher.

After class was over, the main teacher was so happy because apparently this was one of those rare-few classes where he had been so well behaved. And for that, I felt really happy, because it felt like such a change from just last week. I'd love to continue working with him again, if it does him any good, but we'll see.

J-J-Jaded: bored; dull

It's been my 3rd week at M/s L and I've already been given my own class to teach. One of the words I had to 'define' for the students today was 'Jaded', and I went 'J-J-Jaded' each time, in some sad Aerosmith reference that none of them got. Well, at least they enjoyed it when I played hangman to get to to guess 'bored' and 'dull'.

This morning was horrid. I seriously did not want to get up. My legs felt stiff and unbending, rioting against the notion of getting up. When I finally did get up to blow my nose, all manner of disgusting things came out, URGH. Essentially, I felt wretched, and it got worse when I sat at my desk. Something about the air in the office perhaps? During the multiple sojourns I made away from my desk (to buy a bun and later to buy Children's Day gifts), I felt much better, nevermind that it was in a similar air conditioned environment. Perhaps it was the air.

Somehow, I managed to survive long enough to make it to teach my first regular class. And the following class 30 minutes later. It's interesting because the students were the same age, the material the same, but the classroom dynamics were so different. My regular class tended to be a bit more quiet, but they warmed up near the end of class. The other class exploded shortly into the lesson (45 mins in?), nevermind that they never knew each other before, and would not stop talking or do their work without me going 'DO YOUR WORK' multiple times. The first class had 4 students. The second had 3 students. WTF. I guess this means I need to ask some of the senior teachers about classroom control. It must also be noted that their personalities seemed vastly different.

Part of the problem of course, was that I let them walk over me. I wanted them to talk, get to know each other, and have fun. At the same time, I guess how I behave in class also influences them, and it seems when in doubt I attempt to be entertaining and over the top. Which reminds me of how when I was younger I once told my Dad I wanted to be a comedian, cause I liked seeing people laugh. I liked making people happy. Then he (an eternal pessimist) told me how it was incredibly difficult being a comedian. Instead I seemed have to become an unintended comedian now in my new career, cause the students sure laughed a hell lot today.

Oof tired. 

M/s L

Its been a good week since I've joined M/s L for my first full-time proper paying job. Needless to say, its been an interesting week, trying to figure things out and all. So far I've spent most of my time either at my desk trying to look busy, or in the bathroom blowing my nose. I'm still feeling sickish, part adapting back to home weather and part the haze. I think. I hope. Been feeling slightly guilty the past few days because everyone around me seems mad busy. The girl sitting next to me came back to work on her off day because she needed to get work done. Meanwhile I was zoning out and answering P3 English exam papers. Quite the contrast. But it seems like after 2 weeks (the training period), work will be hell crazy.

Yesterday the haze came back, and I felt quite wretched as I was working. My eyes were burning, and my nose and lungs felt stuffed. Last night when I came home, I ended up taking medicine and going to sleep around 10pm, only to wake up at 12pm this morning. Don't think I've ever slept 14 hours before.

Not sure what else to write, or what else I can write about my new job. I guess I'll figure things out as I stay there longer.

Assa and Karpo

In less than 24 hours, I had two very good experiences of customer service from Assa and Karpo. Considering that this is London, that in itself is quite extraordinary.

Yesterday night, after watching Rock of Ages with Malcolm, we went to eat as Assa. He'd never been there before (blasphemy!!!) and it was really near the Shaftesbury Theatre, so off we went. I ordered the sweet potato noodles with vegetables and pork, and he ordered the marinated spicy beef with rice. When my noodles arrived, I was upset when I realised there was just a tablespoon full of pork, and full of PMS-hormones, I complained. I must add that I've never complained at a restaurant before, because I dunno. Same reason why I get stepped on by some people I guess, I'm not too assertive a person.

Anyway I waved my hand to get attention, and I got the attention of someone that I presume was the boss - he was wearing a blue checkered shirt and not the usual waitressing uniform. When I explained why I was unhappy, he replied that in Korean cooking it was normal. That the pork was not meant as a main per se, but more for flavour. I was still a bit annoyed, but accepted his answer, just as long as it wasn't a case of the establishment being crazily stingy was good enough a reason for me. However to my surprise, even after apologising to me, the man came back. He explained that he'd asked the chef to cook more pork, in order to please me as a customer. Malcolm and I were really, really pleasantly surprised. It was good enough to receive a polite answer when I complained, but actually giving me more pork even when it wasn't necessary? Unbelievable!

So for this I must commend Assa, for their extraordinary service.

The next bit of good service I encountered was today, when I went to Karpo for lunch with Diego and Eugene. Essentially, I woke up late and I ended up running all the way there because I thought I was late. True Eugene fashion, he was late-r than me. But anyway I didn't know that, and tore right into Karpo (which is actually a fancy place BTW) looking frantically for Eugene and Diego. When I realised they weren't there I staggered back into the front bar area and stood about in a lack-of-oxygen haze, the bar staff nicely spoke to me and asked me if I wanted a drink, etc. And then I asked the maitre'd 'is there an Asian dude inside?', to which he replied 'Sorry, but I don't think there's any Asian dude inside'. Anyway I sat there at the bar, with a glass of orange juice, waiting for Eugene and Diego to go, half spinning myself about on the bar stool.

Eugene and Diego came after about 10 minutes, and we were seated at the back near the living plant wall. I had the risotto, which was really good. Then I ordered a hazelnut and brownie ice cream which was truly, excellent. Throughout, our server, gave us really good service. She was attentive, kept serving us water and so on. Anyway at the end, when we were about to pay, I noticed that my orange juice was missing from the bill. I waved to get attention for a good few minutes before the maitre'd noticed me and he came over and said 'where's the fire?' LOL. According to Eugene and Diego, when he arrived I said 'you forgot my orange juice' and he looked momentarily horrified before I clarified that I meant that they'd forgotten to bill me for the orange juice. Then he looked real pleased. He wandered over to the billing point and then wandered back soon after, saying that he felt lazy to punch it into the system (with a big smile!) especially since there was now a queue. Again, another pleasant surprise!

So there it goes: two experiences of lovely service from Assa and Karpo. 

Asbo

Today I went to Portobello Market with Joaquin, Antonio (his brother) and their Dad. Initially it was great, but then the skies went crazy and the rain started to come down at short intervals, raining out the market. My shoes got soaked right through. When I took them out just now, I noted that the water puddle inside was a weird maroon colour. YUCK. Still, I was pleased with the entire trip, namely cause I got to replace the amber ring I lost a few weeks ago at Joaquin's house in Kent. The ring is prettier, but not the same. That and the weaving in and out of shops, with Antonio playing with all the binoculars and Joaquin gravitating to all the camera shops.

On the bus back, I did my first ever outright asbo (anti-social behaviour). I ate a packet of fish and rice (from the market) on bus number 7. I finished by the time the bus got to Edgware Road. I wonder if the smell was sufficiently irritating for everyone else on the bus, but I was really hungry D:

Am currently drawing a long, hot bath to soak in.

Carrie

I managed to spend pretty much my entire day today in bed. I just didn't feel like doing anything at all. Joaquin was busy, and the usual suspects were all gone from London (Cielo, et. all), so there went my usual sort of normality supports. I managed to nap so much in the morning, that I gave myself a backache. It's on my upper back, next to my neck, which is highly unusual. If I wasn't sleeping, I was reading The Hiding Place in bed (so far, OK a read), going to the bathroom, or eating shortbread from the fridge because I was hungry. There is also a mild possibility that I am mildly depressed again, but I can't quite tell yet.

Anyway the only thing that sort of dragged me to reality was that I'd arranged to meet with Jon at Atariya for a long overdue dinner. After stuffing our faces (I don't think I quite had my fix of sashimi though), we walked to HMV near Wardour Street and wandered about in the DVD section, and picked up a bunch of movies. After careful deliberation, Jon (the sugardaddy for the night since he's working now and gets paid) bought Osombie, RoboGeisha and Carrie. We walked back to my place, I picked up some Gu Chocolate Souffles from Waitrose and we settled down to watch Carrie on my laptop. After that, we ended up watching two episodes of an Idiot Abroad. I introduced it to Jon. We saw the Egypt episode, and I decided I wanted to show him the India episode.

Tomorrow Joaquin comes back from Kent, so perhaps it will be a more normal day.

Bathroom Musings and Croatia

Today after 6 days away in Croatia, I came back unexpectedly to find my normally un-occupied (not since Tiff and ZW moved out) house, occupied by my landlord's handyman. He'd swopped my broken loo (complete with chopstick flushing mechanism that I rigged up) for a new one and was in the midst of changing the little ventilation fan that never worked since we moved it. He was also sweating buckets, given the current heatwave in Europe that seems to have hit the UK.

After he left, I still had to wait a few hours before I could shower off the grime of a sweaty Croatian night (how savage a life without air conditioning is!) and a Ryanair flight. Because apparently he put new putty around my bathtub. I had no idea why since the only thing wrong with the old putty was that it was starting to look a bit mold-ey. So anyway I finally JUST got to shower. It was then a noticed a few things: the new toilet bowl is far skinnier than the old one. The old cistern was a large model, which meant we could balance lots of stuff like multiple loo rolls and a bowl of potpourri on it. The new one is a skinny bitch.

I also realised George (the handyman) had gone and removed the two lights above the bathtub, making the bathroom much darker than before. This means no more reading while soaking in the bathtub, though to be fair since it's so warm I probably won't take warm baths like I used to in Winter and Spring. I also noted that the towel that I had been using as a bathmat on the floor was missing.

While pondering all these great, life-changing differences to my daily shower, I grabbed the conditioner bottle twice and started scrubbing my hair. I wondered why it wasn't foaming up like normal, and why my hair felt so awfully slick. It was then I realised I was trying to shampoo my hair with conditioner instead of shampoo. I also then realised the only difference between Aussie shampoo bottles and conditioner bottles is that one is cream and the other is white. This is unlike Tresemme where shampoo bottles are black and conditioner bottles white. This makes it highly unlikely for any sort of silly mix-up, like the one I had. As a side note I was also shampooing my hair with 8 fingers and 1 thumb, because I cut my right thumb pretty deep on some sea walls yesterday at the beach. I also manage to cut my left palm on another rock.
-----

 I enjoyed my last 6 days in Croatia, especially with such kind and understanding company (Joaquin). I however did not enjoy almost constantly feeling sick from the heat (headaches) and getting tummy aches/bloating from the food. Also the apartment which I booked, which was in an awesome location, had no air conditioning - which meant many nights of shit sleep and insomnia as we struggled to rest. I also learned that Croatian sounds like Russian, Croatia will join the EU in 2013, and Croatia has a long way to go to properly develop its tourism industry.

We were mainly based in the city of Pula. Pula, a city on the Southern-most bit of the Istrian peninsular, has no beaches. Just rocky seafront. We learnt this the hard way. Pity because I have not seen such beautiful, clear, blue water in a long time. If it was Singapore, they'd have turned the whole place into an artificial sand beach (not sure if that's a good or bad thing though). We went to two beaches, Verudela (where I fell horribly sick from too much sun) which was mad crowded with both tourists and locals, and Valkane which was less crowded/built-up and far more nicer. It was also the place where we spent almost the whole of yesterday and where I cut myself.

Joaquin and I also visited the island of Brijuni, where Tito used to vacation. On the island there was a strange museum made of half Tito photos and half taxidermied animals. The tour we were on also took us to see a safari of animals left behind from old gifts to Tito (second-third generations), with an elephant and a Llama. LOL?

We also visited the towns of Rovinj and Fazana. Rovinj was beautiful, with an old city centre, cobbled alleyways and that sort of thing. Fazana was more like a smaller fishing/tourist town, that was charming in its own way. In Rovinj I had the best grilled squid, complete with lots of garlic and oil. In Fazana I had a short 30 minute Istrian massage which was immensely enjoyable. One memory of Rovinj stands out: sitting by the waterfront watching the seagulls float about just meters away, as a hobo fed them lots of bread. And watching little kids throw pebbles at the seagulls. And watching the seagulls fight among themselves. I felt so unbelievably calm and contented at that moment.

Yesterday I had another such moment at Valkane beach. I managed to stumble my way, falling once, (on a pebble beach) to where the sea was about thigh-high and sat on a rock for the longest time. I loved being able to feel the cold of the sea and the warmth of the sun at the same time. I sat there for the longest time, shifting to a side to lets some German kids play. During one of those moments when I was shifting about on the rock, I cut my palm, but was too chilled out to mind much. The young boy was collecting rocks with his older sisters, so I gathered rocks for him too. I liked yesterday.

Month of July and some of August

I don't think I've ever posted so little before in the entire history of this blog. The good part is that I have never been so stable and happy as I have been in a long time - that is for this past year. The bad part is that as a result, I feel less like writing things down. Yesterday I passed one of those growing up bench marks, hence I feel a bit more in the mood to reflect a bit. Yes, that's right, this person who permanently feels incompetent and overwhelmed has gotten herself a job. Hooray! I guess it's nice that even if I don't have confidence in myself, someone is still eager to hire me.

Anyway July was pretty much travelling month. After getting back from Turkey, I had the grand total of 2 days to rest and get ready to meet my Mum in Barcelona. From Barcelona we spent a few days, then we went off to Girona and to see Figueres. Then we flew back to meet my Grandma and Dad in London. The next day (10th July), we went to Hampton Court Palace where I found out my results. I had given Tiff my LSE details and she called me just as I was viewing some artwork by Titan, and the call ended with me screaming in joy cause I got a first class for my beloved dissertation.

The 12th July was my graduation, and that was an interesting day. Woke up early, got dressed, etc. Felt like Harry Potter when I wore the robes. After the ceremony, I met up with friends who had especially come to take photos, people like Dexter, Tiff and Shu who had their graduations at later times and dates. That was very nice. Lunch with my family was at the now-renamed Pu's Brasserie, for old time's sake I suppose. I remember napping after getting back, and then going out into the damp evening to meet my Aunt and Uncle in Hakkasan for dinner.

The 13th July to the 20th July was spent in North Italy. Saw lots of places, and went back to Florence, which I loved. My Dad drove through the Tuscan countryside, and we ate like pigs. I can see why Tuscany is so lauded for its beauty. We also visited a town called San Gimignano, which was overflooded with tourists, but still incredibly pretty. On the last day, in Milan, I ran into HM and her family in the Cathedral, which was a nice coincidence. The only problem being that when I met her, I sort of screamed, and then babbled stupidly about the dead saints I saw around.

Now finally after getting back to the UK, I'm going in and out of Kent with Joaquin. So far we've been spending at least 2 nights a week in Littlebourne, and seeing bits of the countryside at a time. Last week we went to Dover Castle, the week before that we explored Canterbury itself. Today we went walking about Littleborne for about 2 hours. I got stung by some strange plant that made my wrist itch and swell in bumps. We saw horses, cows and one Rolls Royce going at 80 miles per hour on a bike path. Tomorrow we're going on a longer ramble around Wye.

Seen quite a few performances lately too. I watched a production of Sleeping Beauty by the Peter Schaufuss Ballet Company and was not impressed at all. I spotted lots of mistakes, plus some of the choreography seemed outright vulgar. A few days later, I watched the Maris Liepa Gala and BOOM, huge contrast. The production by the Maris Liepa foundation and its guest performers was incredible. Met Cielo and Ian afterwards to rave about it in Chipotle over dinner. Then on Sat, 4th Aug, Shu and I watched As You Like It by Iris Theatre in Convent Garden which blew me away. I'm not a huge Shakespeare fan but wow, definitely one of the best plays I've ever seen, rivalled perhaps only by Woman In Black. The acting and singing were superb, the costuming lovely, and the set (the audience moves with the scene changes in the garden of St. Paul's Church in Convent Garden) mind blowing. Sunday Joaquin and I also saw Spamalot, which was the realisation of an old dream I had when I was into a huge Monty Python phase.

Should add that on Sat, Joaquin and I went to see the Africa Village by the African Olympic Committee, and got free Egyptian food lol. Reminded me a bit of the Shanghai World Expo, but on a smaller scale. Sunday, we went to Colombia Road Flower Market with Shu. I bought 3 lavender plants for £5, Joaquin and I got a small venus flytrap for his brother for £3 (that I dubbed Percy), and Joaquin bought me a huge bunch of lovely sunflowers for £5. Amazingly cheap! Was quite an experience too, with all the shopkeepers shouting over each other to advertise their wares.

Amazingly, I feel mentally winded now from typing so much. Phew.

Seagulls in Piccadilly

On Saturday Cielo and I hung out for the whole day. We went to Broadway Market, and had Banh Mi. As usual we talked about all sorts of off-colour things, and managed to chase away the middle-aged couple sitting next to us on a bench facing the canal. It was also the first time I had (and seen!) Banh Mi with fish. Cielo had jellied eel too, in an old eel and pie place that was filled with other curious souls trying jellied eels. GROSS.

At the other end of Broadway Market, we came across a commotion. Lots of screaming and people standing about, watching. Afterwards, I bought a Big Issue from a seller and managed to get the story from him (in a heavy English accent which Cielo couldn't understand, LOL). Apparently two dogs had started fighting and the owners were freaking out. The owner of one of the dogs tried to pull her dog anyway, but the dog was hysterical and bit her by accident. And hence the police, and paramedics were called. Lovely, British tax dollars at work. Meanwhile the other owner and dog (the aggressor) had run away before anyone could stop her.

Afterwards, we took the tube to Piccadilly Circus because I wanted to go to Lillywhites to buy some running gear. As we were crossing the street (from Boots where I bought some Spongebob plasters!), we spotted a seagull flying about with something massive in its mouth. Just as we were waiting by the road to cross the street, the seagull dropped the object it was carrying onto the road, and we managed to get a good look of it. It was a pair of wings, grey, with pink bird legs - but no body! Instead where the body should've been was a mass of skin? and blood. WTF.

For dinner we met Hadi and ended up queuing something like two hours to eat at Pitt and Cue. I had to agree though, that the food was good. But as to whether it was worth the incredibly long wait, is another thing. The seating was quite cramped too.

On Tuesday afternoon, I went with Joaquin and his friends, Ting Yu and Wai Lam to Dover. We visited Dover Castle (£15 entry!) and it was super rushed. Still I liked the place. We split up and because we wanted to see different things, so Wai Lam and I rushed to queue up for the Operation Dynamo/Dover Castle tunnels bit. I don't think I was ever so anxious as I was when we queued up, because they only let a limited amount of people view it at a time. When it finally got to us, the man was like 'I'm so sorry, but there's just too many of you!' and he'd already chased the people behind us away. I begged and pleaded with him, and he relented and let us in (number 35 and 36 out of a group that was meant to be just 30) and God I think my heart almost exploded with thankfulness. Seeing the tunnels was great, and we leaned why the entry to Dover Castle was so expensive: the tunnels were decked with the most high-tech sort of projectors and all to tell the story of the evacuation of Dunkirk. I was very impressed. Never seen such effort put into a museum exhibit before.

Today I realised that I watch more Olympics visiting Joaquin in Kent than I do when I'm in London where the Olympics are actually being played. That is, I have access to a television whereas in London I don't even have a proper broadband connection. Pffft. Spirit of the age indeed.

Patatas Bravas

I must add that as I begin this post, I actually have no idea how to structure what I must say over the next few paragraphs. The last 72 hours, since I returned from Istanbul to London, and off to Barcelona again, have been utterly disastrous. To this I must add another, internal factor which only made things worse: I was PMS-ing.

A short overview of unhappy London shit:
- Found wallet missing when I got back to Central London. Last saw it at Luton airport. Was (and still am), utterly distraught, inconsolable. Very, very upset.
- Found small luggage I wanted to bring to Barcelona missing. Ex-upstairs neighbours forgot to return it, but not before I went mad searching tiny Flat 2 for it.
- Mice. Ate my bread when I left it on the kitchen counter in it's plastic packet. Waddled around my room the subsequent morning, making me scream.
- Dismal, rainy London weather.
- Exhaustion from traveling in Turkey.
- Feeling overstretched from crammed in social interaction.
- Disgusting gyudon from Hare and Tortoise, much more horrid than I remember it tasting last time I ordered it a few months ago (ate with Joaquin).
- Bland tori hiya-atsu udon from Koya when I had lunch there with Dexter.
- Clothes still damp, because of the dismal London weather.

And then somehow in between all of that, I managed to pack, get over to Joaquin's temporary abode near Warren Street tube and spend the night. He made a tasty masala potatoes with fishcake and rice. Mmm. But then the next morning, the trouble started again! (WTF.)

Joaquin walked me to the door of his temp flat, as he had yet to get dressed for the day and has his arm still in a cast. I kissed him goodbye, and headed off downstairs by myself. However downstairs, in my distraction and haste, I put my left foot behind the heavy metal door and neglected to remove it in tandem with me opening the door. Cue me falling to the ground in utter agony, tears falling uncontrollably. I ended up lying on the ground for a period of time, because it was that painful and all the strength drained from my body. To my dismay, I noticed the lift in the lobby moving, and soon an Indian lady stepped out, leaving for work. She was utterly horrified to see me lying on the floor. I ended up speaking to her for a while, saying I'll be fine after resting, and she left with an uncertain look on her face. Ironically, UCH was just 1 minute away.

By the time I looked at my foot, I realised to my horror that it was a pretty deep cut. Sort of more like a hole than a gash. And there was no blood yet cause I hadn't hit a vein, so I could see the depth of it. Somehow, I managed to get up (and stop freaking out), and limp my way to Boot's. The pharmacist gave me plasters and antiseptic cream. I hobbled to Warren Street tube, to take a train to Victoria.

The train however, from Warren Street to Oxford Circus was exceptionally crowded. Bodies pressed together sort of crowded. Unpleasant, but ok. It was from Oxford Circus onward that I suddenly started to feel a bit strange. It was when the train finally reached Green Park that I realised I was in trouble, and that I was going to faint. But yet I couldn't faint! 'Cause I needed to go to Victoria. It felt unbearably hot and stuffy. The train stopped twice in the tunnel between Green Park and Victoria. I was stripping off my scarf, my jacket and leaning heavily against anything. I was trying to squeeze my thigh muscles to increase my blood pressure. I wanted to grab the suited man next to me and beg for help, but realised I couldn't talk anyway. I was sweating like mad, and my hearing was starting to go, plus my head was filled with an unbearable feeling. I noticed a guy standing nearby watching me oddly. Yet somehow, I made it to Victoria. The moment I got off the train and walked to the nearest wall however, I finally collapsed. But it was OK, because at least I didn't end up at Brixton by accident or something.

A few moments after I collapsed, the tube staff came running to assist me. A very nice Black lady at the platform called Sandra (which reminds me, I need to write in and thank her) ran towards me. Somehow more staff came, she kept talking, and a bottom of water was procured. I think I was slumped against the spot for a good 5 minutes as Sandra kept me company. After I got a bit better, she supported me and we moved to a nearby bench. She spoke about how women fainting on the tube nowadays was fairly common because it was so hot inside, and how it's usually women cause they're dieting. I lol-ed inwardly at that, despite feeling so utterly wretched. We ended up speaking a bit about the Olympics and all that sort of thing. After resting for another 10 minutes, I managed to persuade her that I was well enough to leave, "well, at least the colour's come back to your face!", and found my way to the Gatwick express.

The rest of my journey to Barcelona went comparatively seamlessly. I made faces at two little boys in front of me in the queue for security check. Was one of the last to board the planes 'cause I was limping everywhere. Changed my plasters a few times 'cause they kept coming off and there was blood and all soaked through. My mother of course, was upset to hear everything when I arrived. She already had to reckon with canceling my credit card from Singapore. This sort of added to the whole 'I'm not old
enough to be responsible for myself' thing. She wanted to bring me to a doctor, but it turned out that there are no GPs and clinics here, but only hospitals.

So, this morning we went to Hospital Clinic Barcelona. It was definitely one of the nicest hospitals I've seen. Managed to get by with pidgin Spanish and the considerably adequate skills of the various Spanish staff there. I got two jabs, one full of globulins or summat on my bum. I was not amused. The other was for Tetanus. The doctors were calling each other to peer at my wound, and my mum kept pestering them by asking silly over-bearing parent things like, 'I think she got a Tetanus jab as a baby!', even though the doctor explained in basic English that the jabs last 10 years only. This prompted the doctor to go, 'You have baby?!' to me because all she understood from my Mum's Singapore accent was the word 'baby'. And repeatedly asking the doctors about stitches, nevermind that the same doctor explained that the only stitching possible was to do a whole new large area around and cover it with new skin, cause the wound had been left open for too long. I was absolutely horrified at even the thought of that.

Spent the afternoon in the La Rambles and Gothic area of town, with a free walking tour. Ended up leaving a shopping bag at the restaurant we ate at for dinner, prompting a 15 minute back-trek. Reinforced my mother's notions that I am utterly incapable of independent existence.

I must add in my defence that none of this shit, or anything close to it, has ever happened to me when I travel alone. PFFFFFFT.

Turkiye

4th day/night here in Turkey, and I'm recovering from food poisoning. Last night was utter hell. I felt largely alright, bloated yes, until the end of Woman in Black (HM and Shu were really really freaked, lol), then suddenly everything started hurting and that's when I knew I was in trouble. Fail. Silly thing is, last night the 3 of us ate at a place called the Ottoman Kitchen, and we shared all our food. It was one of those point-at-ready-made-food places, so the food was actually kinda cold (red flag?) but it was insanely popular/crowded and located in a high tourist area. Waiters spoke English and all. But then again, Shu and HM were fine and I was not. I guess I have a very weak stomach.

But yes, last night was hell. All cold sweats, prayers, and multiple runs to the bathroom to puke (9 times?). On the 7-8 time I was thinking of asking the other two to bring me to a hospital. But then somehow in between vomiting, I googled my symptoms and they said not to go to a hospital unless it's more than 24 hours of non-stop puking. WTF? I think I'd have died after 12 hours of non-stop puking, much less 24. Somehow around 3am local time I managed to drift off to sleep, after about 4 hours of feeling utterly wretched. Pffft.

As a result, our planned day trip to Bursa today was postponed. We ended up waking late. Instead we went to see Galata Tower and the Istanbul Modern (Museum of Art). At the Galata Tower, Shu and I were talking when an American guy overheard and excitedly asked us where we came from. When we replied 'Singapore', his face immediately fell and in a disappointed voice he said 'I would never have guessed that'. I guess my pseudo-American accent broke his heart. After that he started ignoring us. LOL. Reminded me of how I was in Spain recently and confused all the travellers I met. One South African woman thought I was Australian though, which was funny. At the Galata Tower too, we met a second group of Turkish people who wanted to take a photo of us. A few days ago, a little girl came up to us and wanted to take a photo with us at the Spice Bazar, but HM vetoed the idea. Without HM however (she'd seen the Galata Tower before), Shu and I consented. It was rather queer.

On the second day we saw the Sultanahmet Mosque and the Hagia Sofia. At Hagia Sofia I lost my temper because of multiple rude tourists/tour guides. Also a woman accidentally stepped on my toes with the heel of her high heels. I don't think I've been so pissed in such a long time. I still feel annoyed now, thinking of it. After that we saw the Byzantine Cistern, and ended up walking all over the place. We stumbled across the Spice Bazar, and ended up finding out way to the seaside where we hung out for a good hour. HM bought nuts, I bought an apple (the boy had a cute apple peeling-cutting contraption!). I also played 2 shooting games, hitting 2/4 ballons each time, oho. At 4 shots for a lira, it was great fun. While sitting by the beach too, we saw a guy clear the entire 2 rows of ballons, and cheered when he was done. Later however, he and his friends came to try and pick us up, so we pretended to speak only Mandarin. We left shortly after. We topped off the day by having an awesome dinner nearby of Testi Kebab, which is meat stewed in a clay pot.

Yesterday/the third day, we woke late. We went to see the Tokapi Palace and the Archaeological Museum. Then we were real tired, and it was already evening, so we went to eat dinner at the fated place D: Tokapi Palace had a great view, and was quite nice, but I feel the experience was kind of ruined because of how many people were there. There were queues to see certain sections, and even then it was a mess inside. We ate a bite at the cafe there, and of course it cost a bomb too. The Archaeological Museum would have been far more gratifying if I wasn't so tired though. The amount of well preserved sarcophagi there was mind bogging. Saw a few mummies too.

Barely ate anything at all today, so my tummy's feeling a bit weird now as it seems to be getting better. Even eating Lentil Soup for dinner today made me feel real sick. Tomorrow we're going on the Bosporus ferry to see the surrounding areas, and watch a Dervish show at night. Hopefully I feel fine!

Chevron

Sailboats for Sail 

I don't know why, but I've been obsessed with chevrons lately. Tricky since chevrons aren't exactly a thing you wear, or decorate a place with. It's more like just a pattern on a cloth, and according to etsy, a popular choice for baby things (?!?!). Funny 'cause chevrons, besides being a pattern, remind me more of military usage, as ranks on uniforms. 

I have gone into full-scale loafing about after coming back from Spain. I remember little of what I have done over the past few days. Monday I went to court with Joaquin over the old landlord case, Tuesday was the England v. Ukraine match. Wednesday was Salsa (I tried a 2 hour lesson) and yesterday Joaquin and I watched Havana Rumba. But besides those 'significant events', I have no bloody recollection of what I did in between. I guess I went to the gym twice, had half a Waitrose Caesar Salad somewhere. Strange because comparatively, I remember my Spain trip pretty well. Perhaps it's 'cause I took the effort to write lots of things down in my dinky journal/diary.

Yesterday was unusually busy. Had lunch with J Foo at Tinseltown, then I met with Dex for coffee (tea for me - I usually get the fancy schmancy sounding Eight Butterflies Tea) at Fleet River. Then I rushed back to change and meet Joaquin at his, taking the tube down to Southbank. After we got back to his, we hung out with his flatmates as it was the 2nd last night before their dorm lease expires. 

Today I met CH for lunch at Abeno. Had okonomiyaki with noodles, and damn was I full. Then we took a little walk to drop off the stuff I wanted to donate to Oxfam. Rained on and off. Hung out with CH for a bit in his place, then I came back to chase what must have been 8 flies out of my room. Not sure why, but there are a hell lot of flies in our place now. They just cling to the windows (they're as unhappy at being in my room as I am with them) and won't fly out if I just merely open the windows. Instead I need to fling about with a magazine and curse at them (ok, don't really the cursing bit) before they slip out. These flies are massive too! Never seen such huge ones back home before. 

I guess I ought to write a wee bit about Spain before I go on my Turkish trip on Monday (at 6am in the bloody morning!!!). Soon. Tomorrow, or something.

SA105

It's less than 48 hours till my LAST EXAM of my UNDERGRADUATE STUDIES. Holy cow. I'd be all reflective and shit if it didn't cause me so much distress - it being a paper from a different department with different nuanced requirements and all that. Thank God for Joaquin, who as Jia terms it is like a 'comfort blanket'.

Meanwhile London's become a holy hell blaze of heat. Last week I went out and bought 2 fans. One for my room and one for Joaquin's room. I couldn't sleep/function otherwise. As it was, I barely spent any time at home and opted to roam about in school working. As a result, my skin has turned into an utter bitch and my itchy eczema has returned in full force and I feel like I'm scratching myself to death. Even worse, the little patch that formed over winter has quadrupled in size and gone all gross. It was formed in a funny/nerdy way too. Basically when I read in bed at night, and lay on my right side, the spine of an average novel would always rest on the same spot. After a while, a dry/inflamed skin patch appeared, but at least it was amusing then. Now come Summer it's like a Goddamned torture device.

That picture made me burst out laughing when I saw it online.

26 Hours

In 26 hours, I will be having my first exam. ANDOHMAHGAWD I don't know what to do. Looking through my notes doesn't take that much time, and I don't exactly have loads of past exam questions to waggle through. Write things down I guess, but even the thought of that makes me feel panicky - like what if I can't write ANYTHING down?

On a level, this is so silly because this is definitely not the first university exam I've ever sat for, but it feels almost like I forgotten how to study/revise for an exam. That and knowing what to do with myself in the interim bit, while waiting for it to just be over damnit. Doing anything else but studying feels like a sacrilege, but on the other hand studying seems a dire option too. PFFFFTTTT.

Better than Xanax

Sadly I realised the best was to not be panicky/hysterical over anything in life (GV227 exam on Monday for me, in this case) - is to FALL SICK. I have that horrible sticky throat feeling and ARGHGU(TNIV@(%CN()N(QE()

KNNBCCB.

Ryan

I have a younger brother, and his name is Ryan. My brother has severe non-verbal autism, such that even at age 17 (he'll be 18 in July) he can barely say anything intelligible, and even that's confined to a mere word. Sometimes when I look back, I wonder how it was like growing up with a brother like that. But fact is, when I was growing up, it didn't seem like anything remarkable at all. He was just my brother, and everything felt normal. Like everyone else after school had a life just like mine. Yet at times I really wonder how I did it. Again when I think back into the past, I remember that despite the immense love my family gave me (I've got a very close knit family), I was a fairly maladjusted child.

My teenage years were a mess, and I encountered so many teething problems with trying to find my identity, hampered by the existence and presence of my brother. If I was raised to be slightly off-kilter (thanks individualistic rhetoric sprouting Dad), my brother just made me all the more incredibly different from everyone else. And teenage society does not reward those that do not conform to their vision of normality within 1 standard deviation. I was probably 5 standard deviations off, hahaha. But then of course I learnt of a reason behind most of my trouble: I suffer from dysthymia, so perhaps it wasn't my brother that led to me being strange after all.

And then there were times when I wondered whether I had strains of autism too. I have a fascination with staring at the washing machine - the front loading ones with the clear window that is - watching clothes go round and round and round. That's actually what inspired this post, cause Zhi Wei came out of the bathroom and saw me watching my clothes in the laundry machine. Though I must say it's only MY CLOTHES that make me want to watch the machine. Everyone else's clothes can gtfo. Dryers work too.

Then there is the fact that I have incredible trouble communicating my emotions verbally. This is especially bad when it involves strong emotions, like after a fight. I find that I cannot even speak. Meanwhile my brain shuts down, and I become catatonic. At best after some time, I can write things down, but I still cannot say them out. Even in day to day life, emotional things often leave me unable to function fully, which is of course bad because I have quite an emotional disposition.

Still, despite anything (and everything?), I've made it thus far. Living away from my brother in London for the past 3 years has been real nice, but I do miss him. Plus he is (along with the rest of my family) never too far from my thoughts. Not sure if I'll be singing the same tune when I'm back for at least a year in Sept though, ahahaha.

AND presenting, a rare photo of my brother and I, taken last year Sept.

May Day

Last night as I struggled to sleep, I felt myself repeatedly seeking refuge in the idea of cross-stitch. I imagined myself sewing, and sewing away. And then of course I had to stop and wonder WHY was it that I was so drawn to cross-stitch, and working with my hands in general. When I did pottery I used to fall to sleep thinking about carving and shaping (damn I miss pottery). And then there was my mad knitting stage. Still got 2 uncompleted projects back at home, gathering dust.

I came to the conclusion that I found it reassuring because it was Sure and Certain. If I do XX then XX will come out, with the occasional hiccup of an XY. But life and everything is such that often when you put XX into it, ABCD comes out. There are just too many variables floating about for any real certainty in anything, and this makes me Anxious as hell. Especially since I just introduced (half of me screams WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!) another variable into my life in the form of a Romantic Interest. One that, yes, makes me bloody happy, but another bit makes me go 'WTF why are you letting someone else control your happiness?!' lest anything go Southwards. That and the knowledge that I am horribly dependent on a Partner when I get one, but when I'm single I'm most (80%) fine with being emotionally independent.

Yes I am utterly paranoid, but at the same time I can't help but feel scared for Everything and Anything that is part of the Ominous Future. ARGH*%U($MU@(X@

Columbia/Colombia

I realised today, after texting Cielo that I was spelling Colombia the country as Columbia, the university. A few weeks ago, I had all my hopes pinned on getting into a Master's programme at Columbia. I learnt I did not get in, and spent the next few days moping about. It felt like someone shot an arrow right into my chest, like a big THUMP and a WHUMP at the same time. Then the next day, I met a Colombian, at Ronnie Scott's when I was there with Ianthe. Feels funny thinking about it now (plus I can still recall the WHUMP at seeing the Columbia rejection letter, and all the subsequent sad feelings). Consolation out of all of this? I am now seeing the Colombian, drug lord jokes aside, and he's one of the nicest guys I've known. HEAVE a sigh of relief at not encountering another jackass, and at having given him a chance. The sweetest guy that makes me feel a bit melt-y inside.

Anyway him aside, I've got another lovely distraction. A distraction that is probably more all consuming than him. Right after I finished my dissertation, I went online and bought a bunch of cross-stitch sets. Yesterday after they came in the mail, I spent most of the afternoon working on a bookmark (that I intend to keep for myself), before rushing off to meet Joaquin. It's funny how I chose a Mackintosh design, especially after Ianthe and I practically skipped Glasgow, the origin of all this style of art deco. Spent a good portion of today working on it too.

Photo Booth blurry but, it's still a lovely work in progress.

The Book of Human Skin

Life, mood and horrid new Blogger layout have all conspired to make me neglect my blog recently.

I am currently reading Luke Rhinehart's The Dice Man, and it is proving a most intriguing read. Reminds me a little of Bret Easton Ellis' sort of ultra-masculine, no-holds-barred, sort of narrative.

I read a book fairly recently (a few books back), called the Book of Human Skin by Michelle Lovric. While it was a book that made me stay up when I was tired, it proved unsatisfactory. Everyone in the book, was one dimensional, with little depth. Sure, there were adventures, a clear villain(s) and heroine, but it seemed a bit like a grown up Disney story, except less charming.

Another book which made me stay up was Jane Harris' The Observations, which proved to be an enjoyable read. It only came to my attention though, because of the recent Faber collection about Lies and Deception. It was a right old mystery, with strange happenings and hearsay, and a lovely narrator.

I guess there's just sometime about books which makes me flee towards them in such times. Such times as being relatively homebound now, because of exams and a need to study. Of wanting to escape and not be here. Ho hum.

Today's a Bank Holiday.

HOLY SHIT!!! WORK!!!

Assessed essay writer's block feels like being slowly strangled around the neck by an invisible boa constrictor. Sort of like you want to scream, but you can't. I hate snakes btw.

We Need To Talk About Kevin

I'm one of those silly gooses that never seems to watch anything when it first comes out in the cinema, despite the fact that everyone urges you to watch it. Well this time I did watch a movie in a cinema, just 1 year late.

We Need To Talk About Kevin was incredible, and incredibly bleak. I am now filled with a strange feeling that only a good movie could have transmitted, the feeling of being there in person. I also think now that having children is an utterly terrifying thing, as if it wasn't already before, now there's the fear of giving birth/nurturing a sociopath instead.

I dislike the new blogger look

Instead of studying, like I ought to be doing, I signed up for a 5k race on 9 June. http://www.raceforlifesponsorme.org/melodiewong if you feel like donating to Cancer Research. I like how they allowed me to set a low fundraising target of £20, ahaha.

Here Comes the Sun

For some strange reason although it's sunny on and off her in London (I loved sitting in the sunny pew at church today!), it's still chilly. It makes me dream of the lovely weather in Majorca, especially since I FINALLY sent an email to Magali with my photos of her, after weeks of procrastination.

Am currently sitting in Starbucks with Cielo, attempting to work on my dissertation and getting oh-so-distracted. I hate it when I have trouble expressing myself, and I do it best with the written word too (I think). Can't imagine having to give an oral report on it. Thank goodness we don't have to.

I keep seeing people that I know from LSE in Starbucks. Saw Hwa, then Liz, then Iain. I guess it's all LSE students getting hits of caffeine as they do the whole exam studying shindig. Also ran into Aneesh on my way to church today and ended up talking to him at the junction outside Woburn Place, while the lights kept changing colour and people walked around us.

Anyway here's another Majorca picture: of lemons! I like yellow coloured things, for yellow's the colour of happiness (to me at least).

Daily Mail

I've had this sitting around on my desktop for a while. I still find it amusing. Journalism indeed.

9 Days

It is precisely 9 Days left till my Dissertation and Assessed Essay is due. I am calm yet stressed out at the same time. If it wasn't for my medicine I'd probably just be stressed out though. Not sure which is worse.

As I walked back from the library today (at 11pm I am proud to add!) I couldn't believe that I had watched Eugene Onegin just a week ago. It seems like ages had passed. And I suppose in a way it did. There was the Easter weekend that I wrote about previously, with all those jolly events jam-packed in. Then there was the week from Tuesday to today, which I suppose was largely studying. Yet even so it was quite different. Namely that I was going through a whirlwind of ups and downs cause of A Certain Incognisant Person who did silly things to me, leaving me all sad and dejected at the end. It really wasn't all his fault too I suppose, largely cause I do miss the feeling of having someone intimate to spoil and hang about with, doing nothing in particular. And I suppose I did do that when he was around. BUT THEN AGAIN, there were other things for which I was blameless too. Blargh.

I'm feel quite tired cause of the long time I spent in the library today. Also cause I got about 4 hours of sleep the previous night (more like morning cause I slept at 5am). I was sad and ended up reading horror manga that Chang Hong recommended. Then I got scared and had to finish it, and then had to read someone else cause I felt too goosebumpy. All rather silly.

I'm really, really scared for the future.

Easter Weekend in Review

Friday - 6th April

I'd booked a ticket (£25) for Eugene Onegin, the ballet, ages ago after I watched the Nutcracker during Christmas. I'd enjoyed the Nutcracker so much, that I thought I might try another ballet - one that also appealed to my literary side. The Eifman ballet from St Petersburg was coming for a few nights, so I thought I'd give it a try. In the four or so months in between, I read Eugene Onegin, and enjoyed in (hello Pushkin!). But of course right before dashing out the door, I read the wiki page again to refresh my memory, ahaha.

Also before going to the ballet, I dropped by Seewoo and bought veg and two packs of tofu. So there I was, feeling all posh and shit, carrying Chinese groceries in my tote bag. I laughed inwardly at the thought multiple times. Meanwhile, after taking my seat, I discovered I was surrounded on all sides by Russians. I had a really good seat. Totally worth the £25.

I loved the ballet. Well, I hated Eugene Onegin's costume, but I loved the ballet. I cannot quantify why exactly. It was turns graceful, and at the same time rough. The fight scenes between Eugene and Vladimir were wonderfully choreographed, and I loved the opening and ending scenes when all the dancers came out and performed the ball at St Petersburg. The score too was interesting, a mix of classical music and rock music to illustrate the rural scenes.




My favourite of all however, was the General. HE. WAS. SEXY. Ahaha. Also the 3rd male lead. I loved his character, and I loved his dancing.




Afterwards I through briefly about trying to see the other Eifman ballet, Anna Karenina, but it had been earlier in the week. Still, buoyed by the ballet, I ended up walking back from the London Coliseum back home. The weather was a nice temperature, and lots of people were out enjoying the night. When I came back, I was utterly exhausted.

Sat - 7 April

On Sat I watched a play with Cielo, Moonlight on a Rainbow Shawl. It was at the Cottesloe theatre, which turned out to be a black box theatre. Cielo was late, and before the play started I ended up talking to a random old lady about plays in general. She spoke about all the shakespeare productions she watched, and bits here and there. Said she had a collection of plays at home, and a first edition copy of Moonlight on a Rainbow Shawl for 50p that she bought in the '60s or '70s. Later in the theatre, I saw her sitting in the first row, oho. The play itself was enjoyable, and definitely worth the £12 (Entry Pass!) I paid. The acting was good, the play solidly written and the set well done. Of course then again, I only got interested in it when I heard about how highly rated it was from The Week.

Afterwards Cielo and I walked about Southbank for a bit, before taking a bus to Russell Square. We went to Waitrose to buy groceries (she bought a jar of jam which is still sitting on my desk). Back at home, as I was doing last minute cleaning up, Gen came and I sent Cielo to pick him up. Then she managed to lock herself out of the house (with my keys), and when she finally got in she got herself stuck on the glue from the mouse trap. HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA.

We hung out a bit at my flat first. I cut up a dodgy looking mango and the three of us (ZW, Gen and I) shared the slivers. Cielo refused to eat any bit of it. Then around 8:15-ish we met Mong and walked down to Convent Garden to eat at somewhere called Mishkin's (?), to meet Cheryl, which sells kosher food. I had a nice chicken, tarragon and leek knish there, and a good gimlet. After that we ended up at a Tapas bar near Cambridge Circus/Seven Dials. Then when the bar closed we ended up in Soho, looking for another place. Soho, was rocking. Also saw a topless guy with bunny ears and a bob tail brief dancing on tables inside a bar. Oho. We ended up at a real dive-y sort of place called Lupo, where we were the youngest people. It was entertaining. I kept stacking stools at the side cause I kept crashing into them.

After the music started to get all techno-ey, we left. Gen, Cielo and I walked back to Russell Square, and Cielo missed her bus by a bit, and after flipping a coin and getting a text from Cielo, Gen and I headed back to stay with her. Ended up having interesting encounters with the people at the bus stop, a group of Italians with two singing guys (who sang pretty damn well) and another groups of boys who came from the O2. I'm not sure if the latter group were performing there? But they were nicely underdressed and shivering in the cold. They complained that they stuff we were talking about was too morbid. Cielo's bus came, and we sent her off. Gen and I ended up sleeping around 5am cause of everything. Nyeh.

Sun - 8 April

Needless to say, I missed going to church. I woke up exactly at 11am, and then went back to sleep shortly after. When I finally did wake up around 1pm I think, Gen was already up. I got ready and wanted to take a walk about the area with him, but then it started to rain and we ended up ducking into Cafe 49, just metres away from my house. Then, I saw Skoob books was open and we went in. I walked out with John O'Farrell's Things Can Only Get Better and Gen walked out with Dominic Lieven's Russia Against Napoleon (which I recommended!), and joking that he ought to summarise the book for me. I ended up doing a bit of work, then marinating the chicken with Gen/preparing the food for dinner.

Around 7:30pm, ZW, Gen and I walked over to Flat 8 with all the food ready. We had the grand sounding Emperor Spices Chicken, sambal prawn and veg, plus tofu with minced pork. And a fruit tart Cielo bought earlier in the week that was clogging up freezer space. Dinner was a success. The chicken was nicely done (thank you A1 spices, aha) and everything was good. Except the fruit tart which was really bad. We picked out the fruits.

After getting back, I did a bit more work, and watched the old X-Men cartoons with Gen until we felt tired. I was still not quite able to sleep though, and ended up finishing Pigeon English by Stephen Kelman. It was enjoyable enough a read.

Mon - 9 April

Had a lazy morning with Gen. I cooked up the remaining prata and heated up the curry, made some oatmeal for myself. Then we ended up rushing out of the house cause I needed to meet Eugene at Chinatown. I bade goodbye to Gen at Holborn Station, and ended up reaching the dim sum place (next to Seewoo is all I remember) something like a minute before Eugene. We had a rushed lunch, cause I booked a ticket for the 2:30pm screening of Le Havre at the Barbican. Le Havre was enjoyable enough, but not quite something I'd watch again. After I got back, I ended up napping. I think ZW and I ate dinner around 9:30pm or something, oho.

-----

Today is Jean's birthday. We're going to go to TGI Friday's in the evening to celebrate. Never been to TGI Friday's before, so hmm.

Garlic Chili and Bacon Pasta

Haven't written down a favoured recipe in a while, so here goes:

Garlic Chili and Bacon Pasta
2 (or more!) cloves garlic, finely chopped
lots and lots of olive oil
cherry tomatoes, sliced into halves
bacon (or ham)
crushed chili flakes
pasta, but I use normal spaghetti

1. Start by frying up the garlic and the oil
2. Add the bacon (I like mine crispy)
3. Add the tomatoes
4. Add the ham (cause you want to simply heat it up more than anything else)
5. Turn off the heat and add the chili flakes
6. Mix with cooked pasta in a bowl

Mmm.

FB

Looking at FB, and seeing good looking (okok, the correct word is hot) guys in my friends' lives makes me feel a strange sort of emptiness... like WHO ARE THESE GORGEOUS MEN AND WHY DON'T I KNOW THEM/HAVE ONE?

It's all very weird. The more I think about it, the more ok I am with being alone. As in everyday life, and even (now) traveling. I enjoyed my solo trip to Majorca so much I booked another, to see South Spain for a week after my exams (so excited! I've had a crush on Andalucia since last year). Hell I booked a whole swathe of things to do alone here in London, since it's always so troublesome trying to get people to coordinate. Then there's the thought of sharing a bed, and how sleep quality drops like mad as a result. Sharing a bed with Ianthe for three days in our Scotland trip reminded me of that. And all sorts of pains with having to compromise with people when all I want to do is get my own damn way. You'd think this'd all mean that I ought to not want a man in my life, and in a way I kind of don't. I don't want to share my awesome time with anyone, hell the time I have is barely enough even for me. Yet in a way, I WANT A MAN. Want to fall in love and be swept off my feet.

Talk about being totally irrational. It's like a remnant of my more primal side, like when my ancestors were hanging about in trees. Like this female need to settle down with a male, nevermind that it makes no damn practical sense at all. BAH. I wish I was a robot, and able to think only rational thoughts.

Majorca II

It is precisely 3:14 pm, and I'm sitting cross legged on a random platform at the departure lounge of the Majorcan airport. The airport is tiny, and the shops are boring. Food is extremely expensive (€5.60 for a silly looking sad sandwich? No thanks.) and the light is dim. This is a sad, sad airport. But then again I've been to sadder - the airport in Luang Prabang, the airport in Puerto Princesa. I guess I am pretty well traveled. Boarding's in 45 minutes and I am already bored. I figured that I might as well start writing.

Day 2: 28 March 2012

I wake up at about 9:10 am, despite setting my alarm for earlier. I rush everything, and arrive to eat breakfast at about 9:40 am. Magali (as I've just learned her name is spelt) is already there. Luckily (or not?) breakfast is a small affair, with just a tea and a croissant. I quickly wolf it down and we manage to leave at 9:50 am, and arriving just in time to catch the 10:10 am tram to Soller. We had originally planned to catch the 10:50 am tram, and were happy to get the earlier one. Also Magali speaks excellent Spanish, for she lived in Barcelona some years before.

The tram ride itself was billed as a tourist attraction. An old school tram dating from about a hundred years ago, it was a very charming sight. And of course filled with tourists. During the ride, Magali and I step outside periodically to take photos of the beautiful countryside, and laugh when the train enters long tunnels. I also talk to some other passengers, and sadly mistake an Irishman for an Englishman. I feel bad (I imagine he'd be so offended!), but make it up (hopefully!) by offering to take a photo for him and his wife when we stop at a viewing platform above Soller. The tram stops at the platform for about less than 10 minutes, and everyone clambers out to take photos. As I talk to the Irishman and his wife for a wee bit, an Englishman comes by (pretty old grandfather looking this one), and exclaims "I didn't know Americans traveled!" and I try very hard to not crack up.

He reminds me a bit of a good old fashioned Colonialist, and I am very amused. He is genuinely curious, and has no qualms sharing his interesting opinions. He talks about his grandchildren (or is it grandchild) learning cooking now, and how they're going to learn Chinese cooking and that makes him happy. Also says he prefers Hong Kong to Singapore. I imagine he must've been running around khakis and white knees socks around Asia when he was younger. The Irish man and wife to the side look a bit unhappy at him butting into the conversation, I think they wanted to speak to me too, but he drowned them out. Yet another example of the British dominating the Irish I suppose, ahaha.

When the tram arrives in Soller, we buy a bottle of water before catching the next local tram down to Port de Soller. Port de Soller is beautiful. It's set in a little bay, with a huge marina in the middle, and of course lots of docked ships (clippers? I don't know). The sun is high in the sky and the sea is a lovely deep blue. Magali and I settle down to eat Fidelus, which is a Catalan version of Paella, that is with pasta instead of rice. I pop into a mini-shop to buy more junk food, like biscuits and come across a pack of chocolate covered biscuits like Filipinos. Of course I bought it, heh. They're tasty btw. I also bought two wee oranges which are from Mallorca (according to the sign) for €0.19 for Magali and I. After lunch we eat them, and they are so lovely - juicy and sweet! Mmm.

We go about the town, exploring. We find the high points, take lots of pictures. Magali draws me, cause she says she's never drawn a Chinese person before and she wants to try. Says our eyes are interesting. Funny cause I never thought my eyes were that Chinese. We laugh a lot, at silly things like me feeding a hungry stray cat pistachios (she says they eat them), and the place smelling like cat shit. She disses the German mentality (and of course Majorca is teeming with Germans), makes fun of Americans (she had an ex-boyfriend) and says they only speak three words: "what the fuck?". Also thinks that Singapore is near China, confusing it with Taiwan.

We attempt to catch a bus to near Cala Deia, but according to the schedule we missed it by a whisker. Then we tried to look for the bus to Beinaraix, but we missed that too. So off we went, back to the tram station area and had an orange juice, and caught the next local tram back to Soller. At Soller, we found out that Beinaraix is within 30 minutes walking distance, so we decide to make a try for it. The walking route from Soller to Beinaraix is lovely, with orange and lemon groves on both sides of the road. Oddly enough, I also see a Malaysian restaurant in Soller, called Kopitiam. Magali jokes that I can move here next time. She keeps saying this is paradise. Beinaraix itself is a nice old town, with houses made of stone and cobble stone roads. On our way back we espy a trio of middle-aged Germans, with the women picking lemons from someone's grove. They saw us and sort of giggled to themselves, feeling naughty.

Back at Soller, my feet are really starting to hurt. I've worn a good pair of flats from Clarks, but they've never had to deal with uphill and downhill sort of heavy walking before, and my feet were swollen. We stop at a patisserie and I buy a local Catalan pastry, with I think a custard centre. To my amazement, some German tourists come in and they speak to the owner in German, and she understands! In fact, all over Soller I noticed signs in German. The Germans really invaded alright, but peacefully I suppose.

The tram ride back to Palma is far more sedate, as Magali and I are dead tired. Back at Palma, it starts to rain a bit, and I manage to tease Magali back. I'd been carrying an umbrella in my backpack, London style, and she said it was a waste of space. Ahaha. We wander about for a bit, then we part as I say I want to shop around and she wants to talk more photos. I end up shopping lots (oh dear), and decide to eat KFC for dinner.

At KFC I ended up waiting for ages for my food. The consolation was that they fried the chicken really well. The Spanish man next to me very nicely offers his two ketchup packets, when he sees I've used all of mine. He smiles and I smile back. When he leaves, we wave goodbye to each other. I love little things like that. On my way back I stop at a mini-mart to buy water, and end up having a short conversation in Mandarin with the shopkeepers, who are from PRC. Back at the hostel, I end up reading East of Eden for hours, before my roommate comes back past midnight, and we go to sleep.

Day 3: 29 March

I wake at 10:54 am and promptly freak out. I have no idea how the heck I managed to sleep till so late, but eventually calm down when I realise it's ok. I slept badly the night before the trip, and on the first night, so more sleep is acceptable. Plus! I'm on holiday. I ought to relax. I realise my feet are still swollen and painful, but put on my flat shoes anyway.

I end up dressing slowly, and making my way to Placa St. Eulalia, and order tea and a tuna salad from a cafe. The sun's out, and it's nice and warm. The tuna salad however, sucks. While there, I realised that I forgot to bring out a scarf, and after finishing I try to head back to the hostel, but take a wrong turn somewhere (left instead of right) and end up near Placa Major, the old town square. Giving up, and taking it as a sign from God, I walk into a shoe store that I browsed on my first day, and ended up buying a pair of brown leather sandals that I was admiring. Still however, I didn't switch shoes as I intended to head to the Cathedral next, and didn't think it was respectful.

The entry to the Cathedral costs €4, but it's worth every penny. Inside, I'm awed by how beautiful the place it. The sun is nice and strong in Mallorca, and shines through the many stained glass windows throughout. Plus there are modernist bits like the chapel by Barcelo (weird and trippy looking) and the main Gaudi altarpieces (also weird and trippy looking, but less nightmarish than Barcelo).

Again after leaving the Cathedral (exit's located somewhere else), I take a wrong turn. However I spot a sign for the Arab Baths, another prominent tourist attraction, and decide to head for that instead. The Arab Baths turns out to be a mini hammam, which I guess is kinda cool. However it's more of a significance sort of thing rather than anything remarkable, as it's the only remaining Arab building in Majorca. Still, there's a nice garden outside, and I end up sketching the exterior in my handy dandy notebook, which eating pistachios. It was then that I finally switched to my new sandals and OH GOD, IT WAS SO GOOD. Like walking on marshmallows.

After the Arab Baths, I attempted to head to Placa la Reina, where the bus to Bellver is located. Yet again however, I am waylaid. This time by the Almudaina Palace which is open. There's a student concession, which is awesome. Almudaina is really nice, and a lovely change from the usual North-Western sort of Castles (take me to another English castle and I'll scream), plus as a bonus it's still being used as a Spanish royal residence.

The next bit however, was annoying. I was under the impression that there was a public number 50 bus that went to the tourist spots, different from the usual open-top sort of overpriced rubbish. Talking to a policeman however (who seems to be very very excited to talk to me for some reason, in his 1/2 English), I learn this is not the case and am disappointed. He directs me to another bus stop, and feeling uncomfortable from his exuberance, I started walking towards it as soon as he let me off, nevermind that I hadn't actually decided what to do. However the 29th is also a strike day, and upon reaching the bus stop I learn the next number 3 bus is almost 30 minutes away. I ended up pulling out a map, and trekking 20 minutes to the next bus stop on the tourist bus route. I was really not happy at the whole situation. Plus when the bus ambled along about 10 minutes later, I had to pay €15 for the ticket. Knn.

The spot I was so intent on visiting was a fort on a hill, called Castle Bellver. As an aside, the policeman called it "bonito". Anyway I suppose it was quite worth it. The view from the top showed the whole of Palma, and you could walk around the top. Somehow I really liked the Castle, although there wasn't must substantively to see or do. There was an exhibition on Jovellanos, who was a prisoner there during the Napoleonic era. Might include him in my exam answers. As I left, I spotted the bus about to leave and ended up running after it, like a mad woman. I caught it though, oho.

I ended up exiting the bus around Jaume III, which is a shopping area. I popped into a departmental store, in hopes of finding an adaptor, which I finally do. I end up however, spending a heck of a long time (and money) in the clothing department. When I finally made it up to the cafeteria, hungry as hell, I had to stop for a moment and admire the scene. The department store, was the tallest building around and had a clear view of the Cathedral and Almudaina Palace. The sun was at a lovely, evening sort of angle, and everything was a nice warm glow. I ordered a strange bolognese crepe.

After exiting the department store, I ended up going into a Mango nearby. As I was paying however, I started to hear shouts and recalled the strike. Magali mentioned something about a march starting at 6pm. I checked my watch and it was around 7:30 pm. True enough, I start to see hordes of people pass by on the streets all chanting, holding signs. A shopgirl from upstairs runs down and quickly shuts all the doors.

Not surprisingly, after leaving Mango, I followed the march. I must've been the unlikeliest person ever, carrying lots of shopping bags and being clearly not-Spanish, yet there I was, following and taking many photos. At one point, I half wondered if I was going to be lynched, as I stood in the path of the marchers with the banner, and realised it said 'ANTI-CAPITALISM' on it at the side. Of course it was a non-violent sort of thing, and I never felt like I was in danger at any point. When I finally decided to leave them, I realised I was near the spot where I had dinner on the first night. I ended up at a place called St. Ambros or something, eating a not-too-tasty vegetable lasagne cause all the seafood was sold out. Still, I was too exhilarated and happy to care much. Also very exhausted.

On my way back to the hostel again, I stopped by the mini-mart. It's called Estrella. This time, I ended up having an extended conversation with the Chinese couple. Apparently the mini-mart is owned by their daughter, and they help out at night. They came over from Fujian 5 years ago with their entire family. We spoke a bit about me traveling alone, the strike and how they liked Spain. Funnily enough, they even mentioned the lack of manners in China, and how they much preferred it here as a result. They spoke pidgin Spanish (their daughter's the one that speaks it properly), and when I was there I ended up trying to help them translate a little for English speaking tourists. I felt kinda puffed up and proud of my heritage, just for that moment, aha. Then I went back to the hostel and watched more Adventure Time.