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.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Palm Sunday
Today during one of my half-awake stages, I bit the left side of my tongue very hard. Now it's swelled up slightly, and as a result I keep biting on it more by accident, as it gets in the way more easily.
Had dinner at Jia's place with Cielo, Yihang and Alex. Jia made Mee Siam, which was delish. Except all it did was give me Mee Siam cravings, like the way the funny Malay uncle used to do it in the MG canteen. I can still remember it's nice, tart taste, and how the portions were always tiny D:
Apparently it's Palm Sunday tomorrow. I shall attempt to make extra effort to wake up in time for church.
Had dinner at Jia's place with Cielo, Yihang and Alex. Jia made Mee Siam, which was delish. Except all it did was give me Mee Siam cravings, like the way the funny Malay uncle used to do it in the MG canteen. I can still remember it's nice, tart taste, and how the portions were always tiny D:
Apparently it's Palm Sunday tomorrow. I shall attempt to make extra effort to wake up in time for church.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Adventure Time II
At the ripe old age of 22 years and 1 day, I embarked on my first ever solo trip to Majorca, Spain.
Now on my 3rd and last night here, I am sitting in my dorm bed and watching more Adventure Time. The internet connection here is great, and I'm wholly exploiting this to my advantage.
These two weeks have been greatly fun, tiring and eventful. From the 17th to 25th March, I was in Scotland with Ianthe. 26th was my 22nd birthday, and probably the best birthday-day I've ever had (in the company of my varied and beloved friends). 27th was the day I flew out to Majorca on an easyjet flight. Tomorrow, on the 30th, I sadly fly home. These two fun weeks have been a massive departure from reality: exams and dissertations. Holy crap. Just thinking about it makes me feel overwhelmed. But I suppose I'm always like that, I think too much and things always turn out to be fine somehow in the end. Fingers crossed.
-----
Majorca, Spain
Day 1: 27 March
From my flat, departing at 9:20 am, I walked out to Euston Station. On the Victoria line, a young black guy who was leaning against the side of the carriage nicely offers - or rather directs - me to his spot, saying how I won't fall if I lean there. His gesture makes me glow all over inside with Happy Feelings. I thank him again as I get off at Victoria Station. At London Victoria however, I realised I forgot to take note of my Gatwick Express booking number and ended up rushing to the ticket counter to collect my tickets. Then I ended up running to buy a quick and crappy egg and bacon sandwich, and then running to catch the 10 am train to Gatwick. When I get on, alongside another running passenger (a really tall black man), we both give each other silly smiles of relief. I text ZW to let her know I made the train. At Gatwick I miss the shuttle to the North Terminal by 30 seconds, but no bigs. I notice two Chinese boys, from HK I think. They are very very badly dressed.
When the shuttle pulls in at the North Terminal, the two boys tear out of the train. When I approached the easyjet counter, I noticed they were a wee bit ahead of me in the queue. Behind me, a white middle-aged man appears. About 5 minutes later however, more people appear in the queue (next shuttle?) and I notice another middle-aged man edge his way in front of the first man. The first man gives me a 'EH?' shrugging sort of look, and I decided to intervene, gently mentioning that the other man was ahead of him in the queue. The queue cutter doesn't look at me, grunts, and shuffles backwards. As I get closer and closer to the front of the queue, I realise I can hear the conversation between the counter staff and the two Chinese boys, and he's telling them that the check-in to Barcelona is closed. True enough, a glance at the Departures screen shows that the Barcelona flight is the second flight scheduled to depart - that is within something like 15 minutes. They shuffle off to the Sales Desk.
As I'm about to pass through security, I noticed the boy ahead of me, a young teenager, repeatedly staring at me. Of course I look back, and I realise to my curiosity? amusement? that they are Irish Travellers! Like on the silly show I watch on 4oD. Of course I find this utterly thrilling. I listen to him and his Dad talk, look at the tattoos on his Dad's arm. It's like the show!
When I finally board my flight, I realise that: 1) I am the youngest person on the flight, save a baby, everyone else looks about 60 to 80 years old, 2) I am the only non-white on board the flight. On the plane, I notice the guy behind me in the easyjet queue sitting across the aisle from me. We very Britishly ignore each other's presence. Meanwhile, the woman in front of him kicks up a fuss about her seat and she's reseated. The women who sit around gossip about her after she's moved to the front of the plane.
The moment I step out of the restricted zone in the Majorcan airport, I look for the information desk. I came with no idea how to reach my damned hostel. They direct me to take the no. 1 public bus, and after I board it I realise the same guy from the easyjet queue/across the aisle is in the seat in front of me. Not knowing where to get off, and deciding this was all so silly, I tapped him on the shoulder. Just as he replies that he doesn't know, another bus passenger pipes in saying that he lives in Majorca, and can help. He directs me to get off at a pretty nearby bus stop, and off I set with my dinky google maps print out. I took a wrong turn somewhere, but ultimately I found the hostel pretty painlessly.
As I rested in the room, a roommate comes in. She is a French lady that looks a bit like Marion Cotillard (it's the eyes we conclude). Her name is a lovely Margery. She tells me that there's going to be a strike on Thursday, and hence public services like transport are affected. We end up making plans to visit a nearby town of Soller tomorrow, to avoid the strike.
I wander off from the hostel and find the Cathedral by accident. I walk about more, popping into shops here and there. I conclude that Majorca is an awesome place for reasonable shopping. Finally I settle down for dinner in a small spot, eating seafood paella, before wandering back to the hostel. I meet Margery in the room again, and she tells me she's changing rooms cause she wants privacy. As the hostel is empty cause it's off-season, I suppose the manager offers it. We arrange to meet at 10am tomorrow, downstairs at reception. I settle down and end up writing 9 postcards, until the ink in my pen starts to waver. I watch some adventure time. The other roommate comes back, a Spanish woman, and we talk very briefly before going to sleep.
-----
It's 12:32 am and the Spanish lady still isn't back. Anyway I ought to prepare to sleep, since I want to enjoy my last day tomorrow and see Can Marques. Woo hoo.
Now on my 3rd and last night here, I am sitting in my dorm bed and watching more Adventure Time. The internet connection here is great, and I'm wholly exploiting this to my advantage.
These two weeks have been greatly fun, tiring and eventful. From the 17th to 25th March, I was in Scotland with Ianthe. 26th was my 22nd birthday, and probably the best birthday-day I've ever had (in the company of my varied and beloved friends). 27th was the day I flew out to Majorca on an easyjet flight. Tomorrow, on the 30th, I sadly fly home. These two fun weeks have been a massive departure from reality: exams and dissertations. Holy crap. Just thinking about it makes me feel overwhelmed. But I suppose I'm always like that, I think too much and things always turn out to be fine somehow in the end. Fingers crossed.
-----
Majorca, Spain
Day 1: 27 March
From my flat, departing at 9:20 am, I walked out to Euston Station. On the Victoria line, a young black guy who was leaning against the side of the carriage nicely offers - or rather directs - me to his spot, saying how I won't fall if I lean there. His gesture makes me glow all over inside with Happy Feelings. I thank him again as I get off at Victoria Station. At London Victoria however, I realised I forgot to take note of my Gatwick Express booking number and ended up rushing to the ticket counter to collect my tickets. Then I ended up running to buy a quick and crappy egg and bacon sandwich, and then running to catch the 10 am train to Gatwick. When I get on, alongside another running passenger (a really tall black man), we both give each other silly smiles of relief. I text ZW to let her know I made the train. At Gatwick I miss the shuttle to the North Terminal by 30 seconds, but no bigs. I notice two Chinese boys, from HK I think. They are very very badly dressed.
When the shuttle pulls in at the North Terminal, the two boys tear out of the train. When I approached the easyjet counter, I noticed they were a wee bit ahead of me in the queue. Behind me, a white middle-aged man appears. About 5 minutes later however, more people appear in the queue (next shuttle?) and I notice another middle-aged man edge his way in front of the first man. The first man gives me a 'EH?' shrugging sort of look, and I decided to intervene, gently mentioning that the other man was ahead of him in the queue. The queue cutter doesn't look at me, grunts, and shuffles backwards. As I get closer and closer to the front of the queue, I realise I can hear the conversation between the counter staff and the two Chinese boys, and he's telling them that the check-in to Barcelona is closed. True enough, a glance at the Departures screen shows that the Barcelona flight is the second flight scheduled to depart - that is within something like 15 minutes. They shuffle off to the Sales Desk.
As I'm about to pass through security, I noticed the boy ahead of me, a young teenager, repeatedly staring at me. Of course I look back, and I realise to my curiosity? amusement? that they are Irish Travellers! Like on the silly show I watch on 4oD. Of course I find this utterly thrilling. I listen to him and his Dad talk, look at the tattoos on his Dad's arm. It's like the show!
When I finally board my flight, I realise that: 1) I am the youngest person on the flight, save a baby, everyone else looks about 60 to 80 years old, 2) I am the only non-white on board the flight. On the plane, I notice the guy behind me in the easyjet queue sitting across the aisle from me. We very Britishly ignore each other's presence. Meanwhile, the woman in front of him kicks up a fuss about her seat and she's reseated. The women who sit around gossip about her after she's moved to the front of the plane.
The moment I step out of the restricted zone in the Majorcan airport, I look for the information desk. I came with no idea how to reach my damned hostel. They direct me to take the no. 1 public bus, and after I board it I realise the same guy from the easyjet queue/across the aisle is in the seat in front of me. Not knowing where to get off, and deciding this was all so silly, I tapped him on the shoulder. Just as he replies that he doesn't know, another bus passenger pipes in saying that he lives in Majorca, and can help. He directs me to get off at a pretty nearby bus stop, and off I set with my dinky google maps print out. I took a wrong turn somewhere, but ultimately I found the hostel pretty painlessly.
As I rested in the room, a roommate comes in. She is a French lady that looks a bit like Marion Cotillard (it's the eyes we conclude). Her name is a lovely Margery. She tells me that there's going to be a strike on Thursday, and hence public services like transport are affected. We end up making plans to visit a nearby town of Soller tomorrow, to avoid the strike.
I wander off from the hostel and find the Cathedral by accident. I walk about more, popping into shops here and there. I conclude that Majorca is an awesome place for reasonable shopping. Finally I settle down for dinner in a small spot, eating seafood paella, before wandering back to the hostel. I meet Margery in the room again, and she tells me she's changing rooms cause she wants privacy. As the hostel is empty cause it's off-season, I suppose the manager offers it. We arrange to meet at 10am tomorrow, downstairs at reception. I settle down and end up writing 9 postcards, until the ink in my pen starts to waver. I watch some adventure time. The other roommate comes back, a Spanish woman, and we talk very briefly before going to sleep.
-----
It's 12:32 am and the Spanish lady still isn't back. Anyway I ought to prepare to sleep, since I want to enjoy my last day tomorrow and see Can Marques. Woo hoo.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Adventure Time
I have class at 9am tomorrow, but don't feel like sleeping. Instead I'm watching episodes of Adventure Time with Finn and Jake online. Not that amused by it too, but somehow I just feel like watching more episodes.
After my Napoleon class today I stayed in the 4th floor to work on my dissertation till 9pm. Shu and Eduardo were there when I came, but all left halfway. Soon, the 4th floor restaurant emptied too and when I left I was the only one. I am completely frustrated at my inability to write out my thoughts for my dissertation smoothly. Instead everything sounds trite and annoying. Ahgahbarghhhh. Besides writing my dissertation, I was also waiting for Tomiko, to pass her some party tickets that Shu left for me. When Tomiko finally came, she brought a friend called James with her. His lips were blue in colour, and looked mighty odd, apparently because he'd been helping himself to loads of red wine during dinner. Which seems a bit counter-intuitive, come to think of it, because shouldn't red wine make your lips redder rather than a I-am-dead sort of shade of blue? I pointed that out, but they ignored me.
Ended up talking a bit about my dissertation to them as we walked down and out of LSE, since James is apparently a 'fanatic' of genocides. Sort of like me I suppose. He asked me what I was writing about, and I found it a bit hard to sum up. I will however, be eternally thankful to Tomiko who managed to sum it up in her usual deadpan manner: "It's about how Britain fucked up in dealing with Armenia". I feel like somehow now, my dissertation is easier to think about. Like it's less intimidating. Ahaha.
On my way back, I cut past Ye Olde White Horse. A man in a suit, out of a group of many men in many suits, shouted 'Girl!' at me as I walked past. Feeling sort of bold (and partly caught up thinking about my dissertation), I turned to them as I was walked and said 'Hi'. The lot of them then burst out cheering, and one shouted 'Ni Hao!' I didn't turn back to look at them though, and continued walking. Must say though, the experience makes me smile because it is oh-so-silly.
After I got back, I started to make a second dinner for myself (after watching some Adventure Time). No one was home and I had the flat to myself. I wanted to make a garlic, chili and olive oil base pasta. I ended up dumping in too much chili flakes, and my mouth went numb and my insides shuddered as I ate it. It was tasty though. After eating the pasta, I watched a bit of Criminal Minds before deciding to draw myself a bath. Then as I soaked in it, I started to read Bret Easton Ellis' Glamorama. For a while I suddenly thought to myself, 'hmm, is this what solitary grown-up life feels like? Get home late from work to an empty flat, cook dinner, watch a bit of tv, shower, sleep?' Oh well.
Last night I watched The Ring and Team America with Dex, Jou and Jade. The Ring wasn't as scary as I thought it'd be, because the pivotal scary scene had been parodied and referenced so much in pop culture. Team America was nice though, because I FINALLY WATCHED IT. It's one of those kept-meaning-to-but-never-did sort of things. Yesterday was Japanese day too, cause I had lunch at Koya with Jou and Dex, followed by Atariya with Evelyn, Cielo and Jia. Then of course I watched The Ring, the original Japanese version.
Going to Scotland on Sat to meet Ianthe.
After my Napoleon class today I stayed in the 4th floor to work on my dissertation till 9pm. Shu and Eduardo were there when I came, but all left halfway. Soon, the 4th floor restaurant emptied too and when I left I was the only one. I am completely frustrated at my inability to write out my thoughts for my dissertation smoothly. Instead everything sounds trite and annoying. Ahgahbarghhhh. Besides writing my dissertation, I was also waiting for Tomiko, to pass her some party tickets that Shu left for me. When Tomiko finally came, she brought a friend called James with her. His lips were blue in colour, and looked mighty odd, apparently because he'd been helping himself to loads of red wine during dinner. Which seems a bit counter-intuitive, come to think of it, because shouldn't red wine make your lips redder rather than a I-am-dead sort of shade of blue? I pointed that out, but they ignored me.
Ended up talking a bit about my dissertation to them as we walked down and out of LSE, since James is apparently a 'fanatic' of genocides. Sort of like me I suppose. He asked me what I was writing about, and I found it a bit hard to sum up. I will however, be eternally thankful to Tomiko who managed to sum it up in her usual deadpan manner: "It's about how Britain fucked up in dealing with Armenia". I feel like somehow now, my dissertation is easier to think about. Like it's less intimidating. Ahaha.
On my way back, I cut past Ye Olde White Horse. A man in a suit, out of a group of many men in many suits, shouted 'Girl!' at me as I walked past. Feeling sort of bold (and partly caught up thinking about my dissertation), I turned to them as I was walked and said 'Hi'. The lot of them then burst out cheering, and one shouted 'Ni Hao!' I didn't turn back to look at them though, and continued walking. Must say though, the experience makes me smile because it is oh-so-silly.
After I got back, I started to make a second dinner for myself (after watching some Adventure Time). No one was home and I had the flat to myself. I wanted to make a garlic, chili and olive oil base pasta. I ended up dumping in too much chili flakes, and my mouth went numb and my insides shuddered as I ate it. It was tasty though. After eating the pasta, I watched a bit of Criminal Minds before deciding to draw myself a bath. Then as I soaked in it, I started to read Bret Easton Ellis' Glamorama. For a while I suddenly thought to myself, 'hmm, is this what solitary grown-up life feels like? Get home late from work to an empty flat, cook dinner, watch a bit of tv, shower, sleep?' Oh well.
Last night I watched The Ring and Team America with Dex, Jou and Jade. The Ring wasn't as scary as I thought it'd be, because the pivotal scary scene had been parodied and referenced so much in pop culture. Team America was nice though, because I FINALLY WATCHED IT. It's one of those kept-meaning-to-but-never-did sort of things. Yesterday was Japanese day too, cause I had lunch at Koya with Jou and Dex, followed by Atariya with Evelyn, Cielo and Jia. Then of course I watched The Ring, the original Japanese version.
Going to Scotland on Sat to meet Ianthe.
Monday, March 05, 2012
More fruitseller stories
Today I woke up to a bright a chilly day, feeling much better. I finally set out to run long pressing errands, like sending postcards which I dated 12 Feb (the actual date I wrote them) off. And of course I walked by the fruitseller. Since about 1 and a half months ago, I noticed he obtained a new set of outwear, mainly some strange red tartan fleece thing. I guess it's a nice contrast to his other faded dark blue hoodie. But somehow, because I got so used to seeing him in that blue hoodie, the red fleece looks outright jarring on him.
Anyway since it was chilly, I asked him if I could get him anything, like perhaps tea? After all, no one drinks the mint tea we have in the house. Not to mention, no one really knows how it got into our cupboards in the first place, since no one recalls actually buying it. Anyway he said he didn't want tea, but wanted hot water, and handed me his flask instead. As I was about to walk away, he did the normal 'wait wait!' thing and started grabbing random fruits to give to me, and as usual I protested. Mainly because no one eats all the fruits he gives us anyway, and they often rot in some corner of our kitchen. This time however, he said 'nono, you are my sister!'. I was greatly amused. When I told my flatmates, they all went 'awwww'.
Ahaha.
Going to go swing dance later, can't wait!
Anyway since it was chilly, I asked him if I could get him anything, like perhaps tea? After all, no one drinks the mint tea we have in the house. Not to mention, no one really knows how it got into our cupboards in the first place, since no one recalls actually buying it. Anyway he said he didn't want tea, but wanted hot water, and handed me his flask instead. As I was about to walk away, he did the normal 'wait wait!' thing and started grabbing random fruits to give to me, and as usual I protested. Mainly because no one eats all the fruits he gives us anyway, and they often rot in some corner of our kitchen. This time however, he said 'nono, you are my sister!'. I was greatly amused. When I told my flatmates, they all went 'awwww'.
Ahaha.
Going to go swing dance later, can't wait!
Sunday, March 04, 2012
Spirit of the age
I think no other image quite captures the spirit of our irreverent and absurdly hedonistic age so well (or makes me giggle so much) as this:
It's a gloomy, wet Sunday afternoon.
It's a gloomy, wet Sunday afternoon.
Power Rangers
I grew up watching power rangers. My first backpack that I carried on my first day of school when I was 6, was a garish neon blue and pink power rangers backpack. I guess my parents bought it from some local pasar malam (night market). Anyway it was awesome in a way that only a kid could love, cause I also loved power rangers.
So anyway I had a dream last night. I was one of those really odd dreams that I've been getting everyday now (Perhaps because I have a lack of oxygen when I sleep?). Only thing significant however, was that I dreamt that Obama was the blue ranger, and before my eyes he started kicking ass, as monsters swopped down and attacked the people sitting in pews around him. Other bits of the dream were less interesting. I dreamt my parents wanted to relocate to Switzerland and I vehemently protested.
Anyway I'm still sick, and still have trouble breathing.
So anyway I had a dream last night. I was one of those really odd dreams that I've been getting everyday now (Perhaps because I have a lack of oxygen when I sleep?). Only thing significant however, was that I dreamt that Obama was the blue ranger, and before my eyes he started kicking ass, as monsters swopped down and attacked the people sitting in pews around him. Other bits of the dream were less interesting. I dreamt my parents wanted to relocate to Switzerland and I vehemently protested.
Anyway I'm still sick, and still have trouble breathing.
Saturday, March 03, 2012
Baltic Cruise 2011
Long, long overdue, and oddly hidden in my GV265>Exams folder. Found it by accident when I wanted to show Cheam something. Still sick and moody.
-----
London-Harwich: 11th June 2011
I rushed to the airport, after rushing through showering and drinking a milo. The tube felt too slow, and my luggage rolled away at one point in time. Met my grandparents after 3 months, and was overjoyed, but also very very tired. Ate a tuna sandwich that my grandmother bought for me. On the bus I collapsed from sheer exhaustion, having not slept a wink the night before. Somehow, I forced myself to wake up and placed a very incoherent goodbye call to Rajan - the last time I heard his voice. As the call ended and I fell back to sleep, I caught myself thinking "why did I just bother to do that?".
On board the ship we were assigned to room 935. We ate lunch on board, and I ended up taking a nap on the couch. At dinner my grandmother kicked a fuss about the table we had been assigned to: it was too crowded. We were shifted to another table, with 2 old British couples and a 50-60 year old American woman travelling with her two nephews. The first dinner was awkward, with few people talking. We ate quickly and left. Slept.
At Sea: 12th June 2011
I don't remember very much about this day. I expect I read, then moped about. I watched Eat, Pray, Love in the afternoon in the ship's cinema. Dinner was formal, so I dressed up. The American lady and her nephews didn't turn up, because they had lost their luggage on the way to the cruise and thus had nothing formal to wear. They mentioned this yesterday and I eavesdropped. After dinner I wandered to the ship's library to read and write in my diary. Thus began my ritual of leaving every night after dinner to spend some alone time.
Copenhagen: 13th June 2011
The first city. We had signed up for a half day city tour which brought us to the main attractions of Copenhagen. They brought us to the statue of the Little Mermaid, then showed us the Danish Royal residences, and brought us to the riverside quay area which reminded me a bit of Clarke Quay in Singapore. Copenhagen was a very nice city, very quiet and clean. There were bicycles all over the town. We got back to the ship in time to eat lunch. And that's the extent of my memory for this day.
At Sea: 14th June 2011
Sea days are sleep in and bum days. Enough said. Plus again another day I don't remember much of at all.
Stockholm: 15th June 2011
The Stockholm tour was in the afternoon. I had lunch with my grandparents then we went out to gather for the tour. As the ship pulled into Stockholm, I noticed many seagulls gliding in with us. It was a nice sight.
It rained in Stockholm. It was kinda miserable as a result. We saw the outsides of the palaces, and did a small walk around the old town, through windy alleys. It was all quite quaint and all, save the rain. There were also many small interesting shops I'd have loved to venture in to, but oh well. I ended up taking a lot of pictures of lamps in windows, for some reason.
The highlight of the trip was supposed to be the Ice Bar. But due to the rain and road works, there was a horrific jam and we ended up having just 5 minutes at the ice bar. We shuffled in and shuffled out, taking the requisite number of touristy photos, before dashing out to the bus again.
Helsinki: 16th June 2011
We didn't really get to see Helsinki. The tour my grandmother chose was to see Porvoo, a smaller and older town about an hour's drive away from the capital city. As a result, I made a pact with myself to come back to Helsinki before I leave Europe, since C Rowley is there as a well. The drive through Helsinki was pretty, and the Senate house looked marvellous from afar.
Porvoo was a nice pleasant small town. I still can't decide if it's only touristy, or whether the locals actually go there. My grandparents and I went to a small cafe there when it drizzled for a little bit. We shared a meringue, the first time any of us had eaten one before. We bought postcards from the same cafe. Wandering around, I saw a small toy shop. Was tempted to buy lots of moomin stuff, but I refrained, hahaha. Instead bought moomin postcards for the Flat 8 girls. At the end, the entire tour met in a riverside cafe for coffee and carrot cake. It was one of the few carrot cakes I actually liked. Then, the bus brought us back to the ship.
St. Petersburg: 17th June 2011
The main highlight of the cruise was really St. Petersburg. Upon arriving, I severely regretted not brushing up on my 20th century Russian history. Luckily the tour guides were very useful, telling the entire tour bits of information about St. Petersburg as the tour went along. The first sight that greeted us however, as the bus drove out of the port, was not promising. State built apartments that overlooked the port looks depressingly Soviet.
The morning of the tour was spent in the Hermitage. The Hermitage, one of those lovely Wonders in the Civ4 game, gave me good geeky goosebumps (lol). It also reminded me sadly, of Christoph. We were the first group to step into the Hermitage today, before it opened up for the general crowd. The Hermitage was also linked to the Winter Palace, where the Bolsheviks first overthrew the Provisional Government in 1917. I got even more good history geeky goosebumps as I studied the dining room where the Bolsheviks supposedly stormed into, which had turned into a quasi-art galley as part of the Hermitage. The Hermitage itself was very stuffy, and after a while as the day drew on, I started to feel extremely tired and faint. When we finally left the Hermitage, I was very relieved.
For lunch, they brought us to some half performance half dining hall. It got called up to shake some damned musical instrument for a while. I ended up talking to a Mexican guy there, who was apparently travelling alone on the cruise. He seemed kinda lonely. Somewhere around this time, we saw policemen randomly stopping people along the road to check their papers. Apparently, the tour guide said, illegal immigration from the former Soviet bloc to Russia was rampant.
The second leg of the tour was to see St. Isaac's Cathedral, a lovely gold domed church right in the heart of St. Petersburg. Bullet holes from WW2 still remained in the large marbled pillars outside. Then we went to the Church of Spilled Blood, but couldn't go inside for some reason that I've now forgotten. We ended up returning to the ship around 5:30pm, a good full day out in Russia.
For dinner, it was open seating. This meant we changed table from the usual companions to whoever entered at the time. We ended up sitting next to a retired Filipino-American woman, who was entertaining to talk to.
St. Petersburg: 18th June 2011
Woke up feeling really tired. Still, I was extra excited today because it was the tour that I was looking to the most: The Last Romanovs. Our tour guide it transpired, was also a part time History teacher in a university in St. Petersburg, so she peppered us with loads of information.
It started to drizzle on the way to the town of Pushkin, on the outskirts of St Petersburg, where all the palaces were located. Pushkin of course, was named after the Russian author. Later, when we got back to London, I went to Foyle's and bought a book of his complete (and incomplete!) prose tales to read. Right outside Catherine Palace, there was a statue of Pushkin.
Catherine Palace was the first stop. It was named Catherine after Peter the Great's mistress. Afterwards it fell into the hands of Catherine the Great, and she transformed the interiors. As a result the palace is a mishmash of different interior styles, lol. This also is the palace which has the world famous Amber Room, which the Nazis looted during WW2.
The next palace we went too was the most sobering: Alexander Palace. This palace wasn't really restored, because it touched too close to present history - it was the palace where the last Romanov family stayed before they were transported to Siberia and killed. I guess the Russian Communist Party is still testy about the whole thing. There were items of the family there, along with photos of the family. It was kinda depressing :/
Then, we had lunch and visited the last palace: Peter III's palace. Given to him by his mother, Catherine the Great, because she didn't want to stay with him (LOL), his palace was yet another fine thing. You sort of understand after a while why the Russian Revolution happened really, the Romanovs really knew how to live it up in style. Nothing is more evident of that than all the palaces. Anyway I digress. I was kind of palace-ed out by the time we got to this one, and felt a bit bored. To entertain myself, I camwhored in the toilette set given to Paul I and his wife by Napoleon. Even my camwhoring is *intellectual*. Pfft.
After seeing Pauls palace (Pavlovsk Palace), we went on a walk around the palace grounds. It supposedly is the largest enclosed park in Russia/Europe/the World/I don't really remember. There, I watched an elderly couple with the group mysteriously walk at the speed of light and disappear from the rest of the group through hedges. As mentioned earlier, the park is actually pretty damn large. When they didn't appear a few minutes later, I told the tour guide. This set the whole group in a bit of a panic. They started checking to see if everyone they recognised was there, save that couple (the old lady was the only one with a walking stick). The tour guide called the driver and park people over, and after a while herded us into the bus. People made nervous jokes about being left behind for the KGB to find. Finally after a while, the driver appeared with the lost couple.
Apparently they'd followed the wrong tour group, which had been right ahead of us. Random people in the tour were thanking me, saying stuff like "it's good to know someone had an eye on us!" I didn't really want to say that I'd noticed them because I had been stalking them through my camera lens: I thought they'd make a good photo as they were walking hand in hand. I guess at the end of the day, everyone likes to think there's someone out there looking out for them. I just happened to be an accidental one.
Another memory: the palaces in Pushkin were all special because they were especially protected. In order to go in, everyone had to cover their shoes with booties to avoid damaging the wood floors. Just imagine, 300 year old wooden floors destroyed by rampaging masses of tourists! So anyway we all had to wear booties, but as mentioned earlier I was on a tour from a cruise. Well the median age of a cruise attendee is about mid-60s, and mid-60 year old people don't cope with bending down very well. I ended up noticing two men in particular, who struggled to put the booties on. I helped them, and ended up talking to them a bit. I guess nothing breaks the ice like bending down to help put booties on someone. They were school teachers from North England, and knew quite a bit about Singapore. Nice chaps. Later saw them on the cruise days later and they very merrily greeted me.
Talinn: 19th June 2011
Talinn was by far the most beautiful place we visited. It had earlier been recommended to me by Borko, the waiter in charge of the night Snack Bar where I'd go to drink and read every night. The tour group brought us to the Old Town in the morning, and the guide brought us through the streets, pointing out little bits of failed infrastructure maintenance as a reminder of Estonia's past Soviet heritage. She talked about how they really hated the Russians.
The Old Town looked like it came out of a fairytale. I don't quite know how to describe it in a way that it deserves but, if I could have just gone to one destination of the entire cruise it'd have to be Talinn. Domed tiled roofs and cobbled streets. We went into two churches, one Orthodox, one Protestant. In the Orthodox church, I used my scarf to cover my hair as a sign of respect. Inside, it being a Sunday, there was a service in progress. As I stayed to watch for a while, I was mesmerised by the service. It felt somehow at that right moment, I could literally feel God all around me. I stood and watched until I realised more than 10 minutes had passed, and I had to dash out to join the rest of the tour group outside.
The tour guide left at a viewpoint overlooking the rest of the Old Town, and my grandparents who wanted to use the bathroom, walked back themselves. For about 15 minutes, I wandered around the empty lanes by myself, fancying myself a lone traveller. Everything felt magical. A man coming out of a house said "hello beautiful" to me before walking by briskly. Estonians and their strange sense of humour I suppose. I found another lookout point, and took more photos. I bought Soviet souvenirs from a street peddler. Then I went to look for my grandparents.
The next part of the tour was to see Rakvere Castle. The tour guide pronounced it with much rolling of the tongue, like RRRRRRRRAKVERE. It was a most unexpected place. It turned out to have been turned into partially restored model of a Medieval village, complete with people dressed in kitschy costumes. There was a replica of a torture chamber, and 'hell'. There were also replica swords, which were heavy as hell. It was all great, silly, fun. Lunch was held on the castle grounds, and was terrible. Much of the discussion during lunch revolved around whether it was Medieval food or actual current modern Estonian food. An example: barley with hazelnuts (imitating rice?). It was most unpalatable. I only remember liking the bread, which was also quite queer, but was at least familiar in taste to German bread. I had a horseshoe made for fun, with my birthdate on it.
Last bit of the tour was a silly Vodka tasting, which all the silly 18 year old American idiots flocked to, acting like they were BIG SHITS for being able to drink alcohol (it being European laws and all). It was quite annoying. My grandparents and I took the opportunity to use the bathroom. On board the coach, I saw a small dog repeatedly trying to crash it's way back into the house after someone shut it out in the backyard. It failed.
I liked Estonia a lot.
At Sea: 20th June 2011
I remember nothing significant.
Gothenburg (Summer Solstice): 21st June 2011
Gotenburg was rubbish. Out of all the stops, I enjoyed it the least. We took a tour around town in a bus, but there wasn't much to see to begin with. We did however, see the canals and were introduced to the 'hair cutter' bridge and the 'cheese slicer' bride.
At night, our ship went under a massive bridge in Finland, and everyone scurried to the top to watch it. Apparently at the highest point of the ship, you could almost touch the underside of the bridge. I didn't stand that high up though. Also to celebrate, the ship held a chocolate buffet around 10pm. The chocolate covered strawberries were excellent.
At Sea: 22nd June 2011
I remember nothing significant.
Harwich-London: 23rd June 2011
We caught the train from Harwich to London Liverpool Street, and from there took a taxi back to my flat. And tah dah, we were done with the trip.
-----
In total I read quite a few books: Meg Rosoff's, Phillip K. Dick's Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, Jonathan Franzen's Strong Motion and something else that I've forgotten about.
People at the Dining Table:
Valerie
Raymond
Brian
Sheila
Nancy
Forest
Ian
My grandparents
Me
-----
London-Harwich: 11th June 2011
I rushed to the airport, after rushing through showering and drinking a milo. The tube felt too slow, and my luggage rolled away at one point in time. Met my grandparents after 3 months, and was overjoyed, but also very very tired. Ate a tuna sandwich that my grandmother bought for me. On the bus I collapsed from sheer exhaustion, having not slept a wink the night before. Somehow, I forced myself to wake up and placed a very incoherent goodbye call to Rajan - the last time I heard his voice. As the call ended and I fell back to sleep, I caught myself thinking "why did I just bother to do that?".
On board the ship we were assigned to room 935. We ate lunch on board, and I ended up taking a nap on the couch. At dinner my grandmother kicked a fuss about the table we had been assigned to: it was too crowded. We were shifted to another table, with 2 old British couples and a 50-60 year old American woman travelling with her two nephews. The first dinner was awkward, with few people talking. We ate quickly and left. Slept.
At Sea: 12th June 2011
I don't remember very much about this day. I expect I read, then moped about. I watched Eat, Pray, Love in the afternoon in the ship's cinema. Dinner was formal, so I dressed up. The American lady and her nephews didn't turn up, because they had lost their luggage on the way to the cruise and thus had nothing formal to wear. They mentioned this yesterday and I eavesdropped. After dinner I wandered to the ship's library to read and write in my diary. Thus began my ritual of leaving every night after dinner to spend some alone time.
Copenhagen: 13th June 2011
The first city. We had signed up for a half day city tour which brought us to the main attractions of Copenhagen. They brought us to the statue of the Little Mermaid, then showed us the Danish Royal residences, and brought us to the riverside quay area which reminded me a bit of Clarke Quay in Singapore. Copenhagen was a very nice city, very quiet and clean. There were bicycles all over the town. We got back to the ship in time to eat lunch. And that's the extent of my memory for this day.
At Sea: 14th June 2011
Sea days are sleep in and bum days. Enough said. Plus again another day I don't remember much of at all.
Stockholm: 15th June 2011
The Stockholm tour was in the afternoon. I had lunch with my grandparents then we went out to gather for the tour. As the ship pulled into Stockholm, I noticed many seagulls gliding in with us. It was a nice sight.
It rained in Stockholm. It was kinda miserable as a result. We saw the outsides of the palaces, and did a small walk around the old town, through windy alleys. It was all quite quaint and all, save the rain. There were also many small interesting shops I'd have loved to venture in to, but oh well. I ended up taking a lot of pictures of lamps in windows, for some reason.
The highlight of the trip was supposed to be the Ice Bar. But due to the rain and road works, there was a horrific jam and we ended up having just 5 minutes at the ice bar. We shuffled in and shuffled out, taking the requisite number of touristy photos, before dashing out to the bus again.
Helsinki: 16th June 2011
We didn't really get to see Helsinki. The tour my grandmother chose was to see Porvoo, a smaller and older town about an hour's drive away from the capital city. As a result, I made a pact with myself to come back to Helsinki before I leave Europe, since C Rowley is there as a well. The drive through Helsinki was pretty, and the Senate house looked marvellous from afar.
Porvoo was a nice pleasant small town. I still can't decide if it's only touristy, or whether the locals actually go there. My grandparents and I went to a small cafe there when it drizzled for a little bit. We shared a meringue, the first time any of us had eaten one before. We bought postcards from the same cafe. Wandering around, I saw a small toy shop. Was tempted to buy lots of moomin stuff, but I refrained, hahaha. Instead bought moomin postcards for the Flat 8 girls. At the end, the entire tour met in a riverside cafe for coffee and carrot cake. It was one of the few carrot cakes I actually liked. Then, the bus brought us back to the ship.
St. Petersburg: 17th June 2011
The main highlight of the cruise was really St. Petersburg. Upon arriving, I severely regretted not brushing up on my 20th century Russian history. Luckily the tour guides were very useful, telling the entire tour bits of information about St. Petersburg as the tour went along. The first sight that greeted us however, as the bus drove out of the port, was not promising. State built apartments that overlooked the port looks depressingly Soviet.
The morning of the tour was spent in the Hermitage. The Hermitage, one of those lovely Wonders in the Civ4 game, gave me good geeky goosebumps (lol). It also reminded me sadly, of Christoph. We were the first group to step into the Hermitage today, before it opened up for the general crowd. The Hermitage was also linked to the Winter Palace, where the Bolsheviks first overthrew the Provisional Government in 1917. I got even more good history geeky goosebumps as I studied the dining room where the Bolsheviks supposedly stormed into, which had turned into a quasi-art galley as part of the Hermitage. The Hermitage itself was very stuffy, and after a while as the day drew on, I started to feel extremely tired and faint. When we finally left the Hermitage, I was very relieved.
For lunch, they brought us to some half performance half dining hall. It got called up to shake some damned musical instrument for a while. I ended up talking to a Mexican guy there, who was apparently travelling alone on the cruise. He seemed kinda lonely. Somewhere around this time, we saw policemen randomly stopping people along the road to check their papers. Apparently, the tour guide said, illegal immigration from the former Soviet bloc to Russia was rampant.
The second leg of the tour was to see St. Isaac's Cathedral, a lovely gold domed church right in the heart of St. Petersburg. Bullet holes from WW2 still remained in the large marbled pillars outside. Then we went to the Church of Spilled Blood, but couldn't go inside for some reason that I've now forgotten. We ended up returning to the ship around 5:30pm, a good full day out in Russia.
For dinner, it was open seating. This meant we changed table from the usual companions to whoever entered at the time. We ended up sitting next to a retired Filipino-American woman, who was entertaining to talk to.
St. Petersburg: 18th June 2011
Woke up feeling really tired. Still, I was extra excited today because it was the tour that I was looking to the most: The Last Romanovs. Our tour guide it transpired, was also a part time History teacher in a university in St. Petersburg, so she peppered us with loads of information.
It started to drizzle on the way to the town of Pushkin, on the outskirts of St Petersburg, where all the palaces were located. Pushkin of course, was named after the Russian author. Later, when we got back to London, I went to Foyle's and bought a book of his complete (and incomplete!) prose tales to read. Right outside Catherine Palace, there was a statue of Pushkin.
Catherine Palace was the first stop. It was named Catherine after Peter the Great's mistress. Afterwards it fell into the hands of Catherine the Great, and she transformed the interiors. As a result the palace is a mishmash of different interior styles, lol. This also is the palace which has the world famous Amber Room, which the Nazis looted during WW2.
The next palace we went too was the most sobering: Alexander Palace. This palace wasn't really restored, because it touched too close to present history - it was the palace where the last Romanov family stayed before they were transported to Siberia and killed. I guess the Russian Communist Party is still testy about the whole thing. There were items of the family there, along with photos of the family. It was kinda depressing :/
Then, we had lunch and visited the last palace: Peter III's palace. Given to him by his mother, Catherine the Great, because she didn't want to stay with him (LOL), his palace was yet another fine thing. You sort of understand after a while why the Russian Revolution happened really, the Romanovs really knew how to live it up in style. Nothing is more evident of that than all the palaces. Anyway I digress. I was kind of palace-ed out by the time we got to this one, and felt a bit bored. To entertain myself, I camwhored in the toilette set given to Paul I and his wife by Napoleon. Even my camwhoring is *intellectual*. Pfft.
After seeing Pauls palace (Pavlovsk Palace), we went on a walk around the palace grounds. It supposedly is the largest enclosed park in Russia/Europe/the World/I don't really remember. There, I watched an elderly couple with the group mysteriously walk at the speed of light and disappear from the rest of the group through hedges. As mentioned earlier, the park is actually pretty damn large. When they didn't appear a few minutes later, I told the tour guide. This set the whole group in a bit of a panic. They started checking to see if everyone they recognised was there, save that couple (the old lady was the only one with a walking stick). The tour guide called the driver and park people over, and after a while herded us into the bus. People made nervous jokes about being left behind for the KGB to find. Finally after a while, the driver appeared with the lost couple.
Apparently they'd followed the wrong tour group, which had been right ahead of us. Random people in the tour were thanking me, saying stuff like "it's good to know someone had an eye on us!" I didn't really want to say that I'd noticed them because I had been stalking them through my camera lens: I thought they'd make a good photo as they were walking hand in hand. I guess at the end of the day, everyone likes to think there's someone out there looking out for them. I just happened to be an accidental one.
Another memory: the palaces in Pushkin were all special because they were especially protected. In order to go in, everyone had to cover their shoes with booties to avoid damaging the wood floors. Just imagine, 300 year old wooden floors destroyed by rampaging masses of tourists! So anyway we all had to wear booties, but as mentioned earlier I was on a tour from a cruise. Well the median age of a cruise attendee is about mid-60s, and mid-60 year old people don't cope with bending down very well. I ended up noticing two men in particular, who struggled to put the booties on. I helped them, and ended up talking to them a bit. I guess nothing breaks the ice like bending down to help put booties on someone. They were school teachers from North England, and knew quite a bit about Singapore. Nice chaps. Later saw them on the cruise days later and they very merrily greeted me.
Talinn: 19th June 2011
Talinn was by far the most beautiful place we visited. It had earlier been recommended to me by Borko, the waiter in charge of the night Snack Bar where I'd go to drink and read every night. The tour group brought us to the Old Town in the morning, and the guide brought us through the streets, pointing out little bits of failed infrastructure maintenance as a reminder of Estonia's past Soviet heritage. She talked about how they really hated the Russians.
The Old Town looked like it came out of a fairytale. I don't quite know how to describe it in a way that it deserves but, if I could have just gone to one destination of the entire cruise it'd have to be Talinn. Domed tiled roofs and cobbled streets. We went into two churches, one Orthodox, one Protestant. In the Orthodox church, I used my scarf to cover my hair as a sign of respect. Inside, it being a Sunday, there was a service in progress. As I stayed to watch for a while, I was mesmerised by the service. It felt somehow at that right moment, I could literally feel God all around me. I stood and watched until I realised more than 10 minutes had passed, and I had to dash out to join the rest of the tour group outside.
The tour guide left at a viewpoint overlooking the rest of the Old Town, and my grandparents who wanted to use the bathroom, walked back themselves. For about 15 minutes, I wandered around the empty lanes by myself, fancying myself a lone traveller. Everything felt magical. A man coming out of a house said "hello beautiful" to me before walking by briskly. Estonians and their strange sense of humour I suppose. I found another lookout point, and took more photos. I bought Soviet souvenirs from a street peddler. Then I went to look for my grandparents.
The next part of the tour was to see Rakvere Castle. The tour guide pronounced it with much rolling of the tongue, like RRRRRRRRAKVERE. It was a most unexpected place. It turned out to have been turned into partially restored model of a Medieval village, complete with people dressed in kitschy costumes. There was a replica of a torture chamber, and 'hell'. There were also replica swords, which were heavy as hell. It was all great, silly, fun. Lunch was held on the castle grounds, and was terrible. Much of the discussion during lunch revolved around whether it was Medieval food or actual current modern Estonian food. An example: barley with hazelnuts (imitating rice?). It was most unpalatable. I only remember liking the bread, which was also quite queer, but was at least familiar in taste to German bread. I had a horseshoe made for fun, with my birthdate on it.
Last bit of the tour was a silly Vodka tasting, which all the silly 18 year old American idiots flocked to, acting like they were BIG SHITS for being able to drink alcohol (it being European laws and all). It was quite annoying. My grandparents and I took the opportunity to use the bathroom. On board the coach, I saw a small dog repeatedly trying to crash it's way back into the house after someone shut it out in the backyard. It failed.
I liked Estonia a lot.
At Sea: 20th June 2011
I remember nothing significant.
Gothenburg (Summer Solstice): 21st June 2011
Gotenburg was rubbish. Out of all the stops, I enjoyed it the least. We took a tour around town in a bus, but there wasn't much to see to begin with. We did however, see the canals and were introduced to the 'hair cutter' bridge and the 'cheese slicer' bride.
At night, our ship went under a massive bridge in Finland, and everyone scurried to the top to watch it. Apparently at the highest point of the ship, you could almost touch the underside of the bridge. I didn't stand that high up though. Also to celebrate, the ship held a chocolate buffet around 10pm. The chocolate covered strawberries were excellent.
At Sea: 22nd June 2011
I remember nothing significant.
Harwich-London: 23rd June 2011
We caught the train from Harwich to London Liverpool Street, and from there took a taxi back to my flat. And tah dah, we were done with the trip.
-----
In total I read quite a few books: Meg Rosoff's, Phillip K. Dick's Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, Jonathan Franzen's Strong Motion and something else that I've forgotten about.
People at the Dining Table:
Valerie
Raymond
Brian
Sheila
Nancy
Forest
Ian
My grandparents
Me
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