...

Imminent.

2011-12-31T08:09:00.002Z

It's that time of the year again. It's been a fairly good year to me, though really I'm fortunate enough not to have had a truly disastrous year. Came to the UK and adapted to a new life pretty well. I suppose I should be grateful for my well-functioning Darwin-esque coping mechanism.

The UK has been a lot of things, many of which I never expected, but that's a post for another day.

School has been well....school (I still call it 'school' out of habit), still within the endless mantra of slack-study-exams. Just come off the exams bit in November and still comfortably in the slack part, but hey it's Christmas/New Year. However I do know I am inching closer towards this thing called completion and graduation. Just well..bloody Psych to tackle. And some more.

We're at these stages of life. I never realized it, yet I did all along. Many of my non-5-year-critical-course friends have graduated and are working. Some are attached, some are not. There seems to be a spree of engagement proposals amongst the mid-twenties people and it hit me that in about 5 years or less it would happen to us, the 1989ers.

Getting to Uni, graduating from Uni, entering the workforce, getting married, having kids. I'm just at that point where each and every single one of these things are inevitable (though am thankfully(??) still stuck at the first part). It will happen. I know it, but it still amazes me that the past 6 years or so has gone the way it has, and that I'm no longer 16 without a care in the world (except SPM).

Sometimes I think about the future. But it's all so big, so rife with uncertainties that I revert back to my old 'deal with the present' and 'cross the bridge when I get there' mantra. I have a sort of idea of what I'd like my future to be, but I'm taking that as a huge bucketful of salt, because well, no one knows what the future'll be like.

I know I'm sounding like a misty-eyed Doc Brown going the future....I can tell you all about the future....but truth is I just woke up to a cloudy New Year's Eve feeling...odd. So I opened a new tab and rambled. No plans for anything tonight. I remember what I was doing last year. I was at my dad's friends place drinking wine and eating peanuts. Frankly the countdown was a little anticlimatic, but aren't they all?

Happy New Year for now.

What the fog?

2011-11-20T11:03:00.005Z

Woke up to a nice visibility of 50m on a chilly Sunday morning.

It's coming. Winter.

I'd been feeling rather blues-y the past week or so. I put it down to exam stress and the weather (dark by 4.30pm and cloudy 6 days a week) and it didn't help that the Aussie people had just finished exams and were homebound and my Facebook feed was full of airport check-ins and mobile uploads of family reunions.

For a while I hated being here. Hated the weather, the distance, the people, the food, everything. I missed home and everything missable about it.

This morning I had an early squash game with one of my squash buddies. On the way I enjoyed breathing mist and watching it linger for longer than normal. We had a good game.

Yesterday I had a massive urge to make a Christmas cake. What.

It's always during exams when you have the insatiable urge to do random things, then think 'ok I'll do this after exams' and never do it after exams.

Like my sudden longing for all things Christmas and TV-series-neutral me developing a sudden interest in Scrubs, TBBT and HIMYM.

In a way I'm quite glad it's foggy and not sunny today. Sunny days make me want to go out and bask in the rays. I need to be indoors and processing important information and this weather is perfect for just that.

I'm suddenly quite thankful to be able to spend my first very possibly white Christmas in the UK. All I need to do is get exams out of the way.

And you know it's autumn when you have to bring out the bright fuzzy orange poundstore gloves. (And please, if you're not in good ol' pizza-is-a-vegetable 'Merica, don't call it 'fall'.)

Haven't taken food pics in the longest time, but did remember to snap what's left of the pumpkin pie I made yesterday. Well actually I used squash, pumpkin's phallic cousin. Formula for filling - mashed pumpkin:cream cheese:sugar = 1:1:0.5cups. Throw in 3 eggs and a pinch of spices (cinnamon, nutmeg and mixed spice are perfect).

Exams in T-7.

Times like these

2011-11-16T19:01:00.003Z

When it's less than 2 weeks to exams, you're crammed and saturated and blur with all the things you need to study, the weather's crap and you suddenly miss things like home and family and when it doesn't help that your Facebook news feed is full of happy celebrating home-bound post-exam friends and I'm stuck here knowing I should be studying but feeling like baking pies and eating said pies while watching TBBT and feeling terrible for not studying.

I'm no big bible quoter (or bible belt for that matter) but there's this chapter in Eccesiastes about there being a time for everything and I really do believe it's a gem of wisdom. It's how I get through times like these, and being away from those I hold dear for such long periods.

¹ There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
² a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
³ a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
⁴ a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
⁵ a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
⁶ a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
⁷ a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
⁸ a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
A time for stress and a time for fun
A time for exams and a time for none
A time for studying and a time for random internet surfing
A time for home and a time for being away from it
A time for reunion and a time for separation
A time for kolo mee and belacan beehon and a time for...none
A time for east-bound flights and a time for the opposite
A time for sweltering heat and humidity and a time for dreary cold
A time for hugs and a time for making do with skype conversations

I'll survive. I always have, and will.

incompatible

2011-10-23T22:41:00.002+01:00

You just know when there's that chemistry, and when there isn't.

I'm just too elitist for my own fucking good.

What looking up fish recipes led me to.

2011-10-21T23:48:00.003+01:00

I don't really care much for all that hipster vegan stuff, but running out of fish in my lifetime? That's a bit hard to swallow.

http://www.sustainablesushi.net/

(inb4 American consumerism problem, rest of sane sensible world need not apply)

Poor you.

2011-10-16T22:04:00.002+01:00

Sad giraffe is sad.

Pale Stools

2011-10-10T22:56:00.001+01:00

tfaduh:

One of my patients had twins

and called them

Billy and Rubin

Guess what off? ;p

Faye Anne Lim:

what

tfaduh:

bilirubin

-_-

Faye Anne Lim:

omgggggggggggggggggggg

you are kidding me right

tfaduh:

Nop

I was the one

who told her her bilirubin count was ok

she was like

That sounds quite interesting

I'll call them Billy and Rubin

Faye Anne Lim:

trolololololololol

tfaduh:

Yeh.

True story bro.

Faye Anne Lim:

lolllllllllll

when they find out...

theyll shit...pale stools

I'm reminded why I always hung out with guys.

2011-10-08T21:33:00.002+01:00

adjective, -ti·er, -ti·est.

catlike; feline.

slyly malicious; spiteful: a catty gossip.

Synonyms
2. mean, nasty, malevolent; bitchy.

Feeling like you're constantly walking in a minefield. It gets tiring, not to mention old.

Medicine is full of anecdotes.

2011-09-28T21:24:00.003+01:00

'In the States, condoms used to be marketed as small medium and large. But no one bought small or medium and everyone went for large. So now they're sold as large, extra large and jumbo! True story.'

So said the surgeon as he carefully did a knife cone biopsy on a 28 year old with CIN1 cervical carcinoma. She was engaged but got dumped by her fiance when he found out she had cancer.

Those two things are unrelated, but still life goes on.

I don't normally have celebrity crushes...

2011-09-20T23:07:00.004+01:00

.....but when I do, it's on these middle-aged druggie rocker uncles who've been around way before I was born. (I'm not going to even include Josh in here - with all due respect he's a great guitarist and musician but sometimes I feel he was given the wrong memo and replaced the wrong John - Frusicante instead of Mayer.)

I can't quite understand it either - these guys are nearly my parents' age and probably been high more times than they've worn shirts. But listening to their stuff I get the high you only get with Very Good Music, and I'm not even a fan of funk. I've listened to Under The Bridge and Don't Forget Me and Can't Stop a million times and will play them another million times gladly. Their music is so awesome it doesn't matter most of their lyrics don't mean shit.

While I'm not too fond of Rain Dance Maggie and honestly think 'I'm With You' is a boring name for any album (but I've a few faves in there) I'm glad they're back and if you never saw them, you wouldn't think they'd aged at all.

Stuff I can't get over (aka fangirl raving)

-Flea's hair colours

-the way Anthony does that swirl/spin crazy dance on stage

-the orgasmic look John has on his face when he's doing a solo

-the way they were so drugged up before shows in the old days

-Anthony's circa mid-2000s look (totally not digging the current Hitler/70s porn star look)

-Flea's tooth gap

-Anthony's voice - always spot on live

-how their live shows are all so awesome

-when John and Flea jam solos for a few minutes before getting on to intro riffs

-the quirkiness and funkiness of everything from their music vids to 80s interviews

-Anthony being badass at 13

-the way Taira from Beck (my most favourite anime of all time) was essentially modelled after Flea

They'll be performing around the midlands mid November ie one week before my paeds and O&G exams, so I'll be a good girl and not spend over 50 quid and go to Manchester on a Tuesday evening and be contented with watching Youtube videos of their live shows. *sob* I only hope they don't do a Kurt Cobain/Amy Winehouse before I get to see them live.

Oh and if Flea looks familiar, it's because he was Needles in Back to the Future 2. Genius bassist and not afraid to call you 'chicken'. Yeah.

And I'll never get to see him live with the Peppers. T_T

Somewhere at the back of my mind

2011-09-19T20:36:00.002+01:00

I always knew I wasn't good with kids. I couldn't do all that cooing and baby talk and 'eeee so cuteeeee' gushing that most girls seem to emit whenever they see a baby, cute or otherwise. (Personally, when I see a baby all I can think of is labour pains, sleepless nights, mess and disorder, expen$e$ and the aloof ungrateful teenagers they will eventually become.)

I also knew that marriage and family was something way ahead. Too distant in the future to warrant my worrying about now at the present moment, not when there are more pressing things like exams to worry about. I accepted the fact that I would eventually marry, settle down and have kids one day, but barely dwelled on it at all. It's sort of like how when you're in primary school, you know after UPSR comes PMR and SPM, but who thinks of SPM when they're in Primary 4?

And I knew that one day my apprehension towards kids would slowly melt away and with age, I would become like any estrogen-surged woman with unrestrained maternal urges and the womanly ability to speak kiddie. I always had the idea that in about 10 years maybe, when I'm fully and truly comfortable with my career and financially stable, I'd wake up one day and decide ~~to stop being a dink~~ I want to have a family. (Unnecessary opinion: I always believed the right age to marry would be after at least two years of working and being financially independent. If I can't fund my own wedding I have no business getting married.)

Doing paeds for the past 10 weeks have brought that day a little closer, perhaps. Not saying I'm suddenly all mummy-mode; I just feel more understanding towards children and less likely to avoid them with a ten foot pole when I see them, which is an improvement I suppose. I have a feeling obs and gynae will complement that change in perception.

Today was the first day of O&G and we were bombarded (and will be for the next two days) on the basics and essentials of the entire specialty (aka why I should really be studying). We were shown some videos on labour and childbirth. I think I may have teared a little.

It'll be interesting to see where the next 10 weeks bring me (apart from Derby, duh.)

Finally the room

2011-09-15T16:42:00.002+01:00

It's smaller but warmer, older but cosier. A single bed replacing a double but I like it better. Plus it's always nice to wake up and come home to friendly greetings. (Not that they were hostile in the old place; we just kept to ourselves more.)

I like it here.

Food=dump

2011-09-12T21:14:00.004+01:00

Because sometimes I have to remind myself that I'm not a complete banana. Btw, I sucked at calligraphy in SJK(C).

Because I like to state the obvious.

Because I like to attempt mad feats - such as the kek lapis trial run for the raya celebrations (ended up bringing a cheesecake - far less work.)

Because cooking chinese style every day can be so boring.

Wish me luck for the OSLERs on Wednesday! (yes all you 5 readers)

My guilty pleasure is back.

2011-08-22T20:25:00.002+01:00

1. Anthony need to lose the 'stache.

2. I kinda miss Frusciante. :(

3. Flea is awesome as everrrrr

They're coming to the UK in November. Manchester/Birmingham would be my best bet. However, 55pounds and potentially a week or two before Very Important Exams (the one with kids and preggers ladies - cannot play play). Oh and no Frusciante.

Sigh.

The cool kids.

2011-08-21T02:24:00.000+01:00

I'm not one of them.

Exclusion.

2011-08-17T21:10:00.002+01:00

Ever had those times when you walk into a room and everyone stops talking, or when you can't hold a conversation with someone you were once close to, or when a simple passing 'hi' becomes the most awkward thing.

I feel like my social life is crumbling. It's because I take things too seriously.

meh.

2011-08-17T14:01:00.005+01:00

It's the typical student problem. Everyone telling you a different thing, a different approach. For medical students it's all in the physical examination and history presentation. As far as I could remember during my days back in IMU the CSU sessions and OCSEs were the source of a lot of stress - not because it was difficult to perform an examination (it's pretty simple really) but it's because every lecturer and examiner would have their own preferences and one had to thread very carefully - one lecturer's method was another lecturer's dislike. But it was the students who would get the brunt of it. People even memorized the different methods and teachings of different lecturers so as to apply them if they happened to be examining them.

It's the same everywhere really.

Since paeds started I've actually been on the wards a fair bit (gasp!) and making a concious effort to clerk and present at least 5 patients a week. It's hard enough mustering the courage to talk to parents about why their precious kids are in hospital and asking sensitive questions like did they smoke or did the child live with their father. But that's the easy part. Presenting? You mean if the F1 or ST isn't running after someone's bloods and tapping away at some TTO's or if there's a nice registrar in the ward who doesn't think you're a waste of oxygen, thre might be a chance. I generally stay away from consultants on the ward because I'm terrified of them, don't say presenting. And that's if they're any doctors around at all.

But that's not my main problem. The problem here is presenting.

I've taken scores of histories - some good, some not so good, some with patchy examinations and most with none. But only about 20% of the histories get presented. That's if I'm lucky - or is it? How many times have I been stopped because the ST or SHO decided that the past medical history should be presented before the chief complaint, or felt that birth weight should be at the top instead of birth history further below. Some would say the PC should be just the main cause of admission and timeframe, others disagree and would have a bit of the HOPI in the PC in the patient's words. Sometimes I try to be smart and use jargon only to be caught up and asked 'did the parents really say 'apyrexial'? Use their own words.' I'm constantly being told different things and it reall affects me.

Just a couple hours ago I tried to present a case of a wheezy child to a rather nice ST but while I had all the information penned down, all I could think of was 'Is this how he would like it? What if he thinks the order should be like that instead of this?' And I was so caught up in those insecurities and thinking of past mistakes I ended up fumbling all over the presentation and mumbling to my knees. Needless to say he wasn't impressed.

I get that all the time. I have the information but what I can't do as of yet is translate everything into all that consultant-worthy jargon that doctors seem to be able to do. If there's one thing they don't teach us in medical school, it's how to not sound like a lay person. Which I sound like a lot. It's very frustrating because I am actuall making the effort to talk to surly parents, then gingerly ask these very busy-looking doctors if they could spare 10 minutes to listen to this hapless student present, only to mess it up and talk like a lay person. And at the end of it all have them tell me I need to improve and work on my presentation. I feel like I'm going nowhere.

It's been 6 weeks and while I think I have gotten better at clerking, my presentation skills remain static and unimproving. Which is probably worrying, seeing as our exams for this block will see us being marked mainly on presenting.

As a medical student you're really at the lowest possible rung of the food chain. You have no authority yet are expected to clerk and present 'like a doctor would' and get thrown into the shoes of one about to present to an impatient consultant who doesn't want to listen to you at all. Most parents/patients will let you clerk them but occasionally you get some snarky ones that just make you feel like shit, for the lack of a better description. Most F1s and SHOs/STs are friendly and helpful but it still takes guts to approach a busy person and bother them with trivial things like hearing you present, which they are under no obligation to do so.

This is why I hate being a medical student sometimes.

Oh England, what have you become?

2011-08-10T20:49:00.005+01:00

You used to be core to my Enid Blyton-induced fantasies of boarding schools and travelling circuses, mystery and adventure, scones for tea and ices by the beach. Rag dolls and golliwogs in the playroom, bicycles in the shed down the garden. Midnight feasts and treasure islands, lacrosse games and innocent play during summer holidays. Fast friendships and respect for elders and one another.

Now I'm here, but I'm witnessing the breakdown of the family unit. Foster homes and social workers. Junk food for dinner whilst watching the most brain-dumbing reality shows. Tabloids stacked by the bedsides of teenage mums on the wards. Hoodied yobs complaining about the 'rich' while not doing anything to help themselves. A generation with deluded senses of self-entitlement.

And so the Georges and Timmys, Fattys, and Darrells grew up to become Barry Kents and Sharon Bottses.

Can't say I didn't see it coming.

What's After SPM?

2011-08-09T08:29:00.002+01:00

I got to know about What's After SPM - a Malaysian book project from a friend's blog (and perhaps intermittently from links floating around the internet). I know I'm way past that stage, but what I found interesting was that I personally know at least 4 of the contributors (and possibly more). I have a surface understanding of what their lives are like now and it'll be interesting to see them pen down their chosen paths from their perspectives, along with the hundred other contributors.

It's retailing at RM19.90 at most major bookstore chains back home, including MPH The Spring. Someone reserve a copy for me when I fly home next summer? :)

So many things.

2011-08-08T22:03:00.003+01:00

I want to comment on someone's photo, wish someone good luck or happy birthday, tell someone how much I admire and respect them, or just say hi.

But I don't.

I want to read up on today's teachings and sort out my notes (from last week too no less).

But I don't.

I want up upload the photos from Edinburgh. And probably Manchester from eons ago.

But I don't.

I want to sort out my accounts. Email people who need to be emailed.

But I don't.

I want to pick up the guitar and practice some scales. Buy a cable. Finish the book I'm 4/5 through. Look up a recipe.

But I don't.

I can't do anything while this vexed hole in my heart sits there.

A'd like tae veesit Scotland ae day.

2011-08-07T23:06:00.000+01:00

Ay 'ad a wee trip up nurth. Twas a-guid tayme, so 'twas.

Realization of the Night #2

2011-08-03T22:01:00.003+01:00

I have not watched Harry Potter 7.2 yet.

What madness is this??? D: D: D:

How did it come to this?

2011-08-03T21:46:00.004+01:00

Somewhere along the line I just stopped watching anime, downloading albums, following TV shows - I'd turned into some sort of attention-deficit hermit dependent on imageboards and funny-picture-aggregation websites for entertainment.

So anyway I started watching Hanasaku Iroha, which I'm enjoying very much. And stumbled upon some Iron Chef videos on Youtube (how did that happen? how?) and well. It did bring back many memories of my younger days (pass me the walking stick, thank you very much.)

The outrageous flamboyance. The dramatic way Kaga unveils the SECRET INGREDIENT! The epic background music (that was way before epicmealtime). The fact that Italy chef is dressed in the colours of the flag and holds a single tomato.

And of course the biting-into-pepper-and-grinning-like-a-manic scene.

It cracks me up. Every. Single. Time.

But I've come to realize one thing after watching HanaIro and Iron Chef.

I could never be a professional chef or cook.

I mean I do like making my own meals, but the stress of having to cook for strangers every day is a bit too much for me. Add on the time limit, the fact that money is on the cards (well they're paying you so you better damn well do a good job), presentation et al. All that pressure would just take the fun out of cooking.

Ok short rant over, back to 3/5 of the OMELETTO CHALLENGEEEEEEE

Static on a screen

2011-07-30T22:10:00.001+01:00

Sometimes I worry I'm losing my passion for everything.

I'm like a robot, just going through the motions of life.

When I'm down, I stop being down....

2011-07-28T22:00:00.006+01:00

...and cook something instead.

True story.

I've been very inspired by cooking blogs lately, particularly cooking-photography blogs. You know, the ones with pictures so crisp and well-composed, the ones with immaculate themed backgrounds it makes your heart ache knowing you'll never have a lick of chocolate frosting off that spoon, or a whiff of that roast in the oven.

Food is one thing, photography is another. How on earth they do it I don't know. (Ok so I have an idea - practice.) But I'm going to give it a well.....shot.

It's bad enough that my kitchen is quite sparsely lighted (the oft cloudy British weather doesn't help either) so I can't quite well snap a shot of batter pouring in a tin with one hand and the other hand pouring said batter with an ISO of 1600 and shutter at 1/8. Shots of the finished product are the best I can do, with the best composition I can arrange with my usual kitchen clutter in the background.

Though I love how there's always a story behind everything I make or snap, no matter how shoddy the lighting is or how awkward the angles are.

Like the fruits of my first apple picking.

To the 5-minute lunch fix-up I perform everyday.

Or the delightful blackberries that only cost a walk around my neighbourhood. I scored a whole tupperwarefull - and that was just within a 50 meter radius of my house.

Perhaps the dreary Saturday evening I returned home at 9.30pm absolutely beat from a 12 hour weekend oncall shift (I stiffly salute housemen in Malaysia who pull 36-hour shifts...twice a week. You are superhuman.) with no energy to do anything but toss some coloured plants into a pot and...well my weekend was made.

Sometimes it's bringing the inspirations I get to life (and palate) that amaze me. I mean, who would've guessed that roast vegetables on a tomato base would be so simple yet so awesome? (apart from the French, duh.)

The Italian bug stuck on to me for a while before I rewatched Julie and Julia for the nth time and briefly deviated to French.

I do like to think that the best things are unbelievably easy to whip up. Pasta would be first in line on the simplest-and-awesomest list. How can you go wrong with pasta? It's like trying to burn cornflakes.

Here's a protip: baked sweet potatoes are the most revolutionary thing you'll ever taste.

Waste not, want not. I never throw out food unless it's milk that tastes like yogurt or the odd blackish broccoli floret. Which suggests that I consume wayy too much past-best-before food than I should, but with the 'guts of steel' that I am so proud of, who am I to complain. :)

This deceptively enticing little thing was actually a mish mash of ingredients thrown together - ingredients that have been sitting in the fridge for far longer than I'd ever dare to admit. Thankfully no intestines were harmed in the consumption of this dish.

Of course, it's hard enough cooking for one, but when it comes to baking, it's a whole new ball game. I can't very well make just one muffin or a single 5cm slice of pie. It has to go somewhere.

So on baking rounds I embark.

Cake for the girls at Claude.

Pie for the seniors at Greenfield.

Crumble for the peeps at Montpelier.

Muffins for the ladies at Ednaston.

Cupcakes for the seniors at Brasilford.

Hmm it seems I've become fully and truly domesticated. Oh dear. Next thing you know I'll be oggling over mandolin slicers and putting pasta in glass jars like every other marital-and-parental-blogging-bliss taitai mum out there. Eeep. The horror!

I feel loads better. :)

Laughing Stock.

2011-07-27T23:58:00.004+01:00

Nothing to mark a dreary mid-week evening than the solid crash of disappointment following hopes once so high.

So I got rejected by McDonald’s for a part time crew member job. Quite laughable, if you try saying it out loud. Working at fast food joints is somehow always touted as the lowest of shitty jobs, a joke thrown about by Art History or Philosophy majors upon graduation (‘lol looks like I’m doomed to flipping burgers’). And here I am, being rejected by Mc-fucking-donald’s.

I passed the first round. Called up for interview, mini work trial.The interview went ok. The OJE was good. Smiles abound. They said I did well.

Maybe I was being naive. Maybe it’s because I’m a 4th year medical student with only weekends to spare and no 3-month long summer breaks so speak of. Maybe it’s because I’m an international student with ‘no more than 20 hours per week during term time’ stamped on the visa. Maybe it’s because I was too honest on the resume. Maybe it’s because someone else could work 40 hours a week and had a National Insurance number. Maybe it’s because I did or did not say or do things I should or should not have said or done.

Excuses.

Maybe it’s just me. Why else would I be rejected on all 5 occasions while applying for Unitemps jobs, or have heard no word from KFC, Subway, Pizza Hut or Starbucks despite well-proofed (but perhaps foolishly honest) resumes? Why can so many fellow overseas Malaysians students get part time jobs while studying, yet I can't seem to even grasp just one? (I'm supposed to be training to be a doctor, yet McDonald's doesn't even want me. Are you scared yet?)

I just want. A part time job. I am so desperate to prove that I can do it. I’ll mop your floors. Take your orders. File your data. Be your coolie. Do all the menial shit no one wants to do while juggling full-time studies. Just employ me.

I also just want to know what the fuck I’m doing wrong.

For now here I am back at square one, still relying on parents for everything financially, living my life as one giant IOU. There goes my dreams of paying my rent on my own. The hopes of gleefully telling my dad he no longer needs to deposit money into my account every month. No scholarship, now no job. Pitiful.

On second thought, just hate me. Hate me for being able to afford to study overseas. Hate me for enjoying things like apples and holidays. Hate me for not needing scholarships or loans or part time jobs. Hate me for having it easy. I deserve to be hated. Do it.

Your hatred gratifies me.

Oh look at these boring plants.

2011-07-24T19:28:00.012+01:00

Summer. It just means I'm not freezing my ass off 24 hours a day.

Even when temperatures hit a balmy 20C I still get goosebumps if I wear shorts in my room (like now). Perhaps that's why I enjoyed the Italian heat so much - I miss standing in the sun and feeling my skin prickling under its rays.

Perhaps that's also why I will never quite be so 'fair and lovely'.

The weather was so good I had to take a stroll. Having already ffk-ed the girls for squash (was really not feeling up to it...) I didn't want to spend the entire day cooped up in my freezing room.

That's the thing about the UK. Sunny days are so rare and celebrated, whenever it's bright outside I feel compelled to go out. Go for a walk. Cycle. Anything but staying indoors. Unlike back home in the tropics, everyday is just another hot, hot, hot, hot day where everyone just wants to be within the vicinity of an aircon.

The week's weather was cold, cloudy and generally shitty throughout, so I wasn't going to waste a precious sunny day being cooped indoors, even though my calves were slightly sore from standing for hours the day before (medical students on call don't sit. They just don't.)

So I took a stroll.

University Park has some great stuff to offer if you know where to look. And I'm not just talking about halls or facilities or boring brochure-info stuff. Being a 'real' campus, there's lots of shrub and field about.

And weird-looking fauna.

Scores of them.

Sometimes you see what looks like fruit or berries....but most of the time they're not. Well not human-edible ones anyway.

Enticing...is what these peudoblueberry posers are. But one quick press...

Imma call them bloodberries from now own.

Pretty things, though.

Blackberry bushes aren't too much of a rarity, but they don't seem to fruit as much. Anything but black means unripe, but the red ones sure do look like gooseberries.

Or maybe gooseberries are unripe blackberries.

Some plant with apple-like fruit which I'm quite sure are not apples - they were the size of large cherries and not as round as an apple should be. Like they can't make up their minds whether they want to be apples or cherries.

Conker-durians. If only.

The road a little less taken.

I do believe these are lavender. No association with Ron Weasley.

There are white morning glories as well, but I've seen them open in the dead of the night so they're probably not time-specific. Let's call them all-day glories.

I'm not really a nature-outdoors person due to my dislike of creepy crawlies but... there seems to be less of the nasty ones in temperate climates.

In Malaysia my main reason for avoiding (and not doing stupid things like leaning on and climbing) big trees were the big red ants. Everyone's had a red ant bite as a kids.

Still isn't pleasant.

Growing up the only times I would see these things were on fake plastic Christmas three ornaments.

Though for the life of me I suddenly cannot remember what they're called.

Not Uni Park, but a road in my area.

The real highlight of this post @ saving the best for last.

See it yet?

Oh yeah baby. Friggin apple trees.

Just look at these babies. Anyone's to harvest.

Not all are perfect though. Like everything else. But perfection is overrated.

Some are a little oddly shaped.

Reach, pluck, bag. Oh and avoid buzzing insect in my ear who seems a bit agitated at me invading his space, perhaps.

Some with the leaves still on. As a kid I would be fascinated by apples and oranges that still had their leaves on - it's a leaf all the way from China/Australia/[origin of fruit]! my mum would exclaim.

Ah childhood memories.

As long as there are no holes or visible deformities, I'd just have a bite. Right off the tree. No washing. No pesticides. No problem.

Awesome.

Immersed waist-deep in lallang.

How I gauge if it's alright to pluck - if I can barely circle my thumb and middle finger, it's a go. Probably not very scientific, but there you go. Most of them are still quite small. Guess the bigger ones have been taken.

I've been coming back for a few weeks now, and these critters have definitely grown. In a couple weeks or so we'll be having full-sized apples on our hands.

Of course, Project Utilize-Every-Apple-Recipe-Known-To-Man is underway.

Wait for it.

What, is it autumn already?

Manning it up

2011-07-23T22:47:00.006+01:00

So, so tired. How do these people pull 12-hour weekend oncalls?

So imageshack (who the hell uses it nowadays anyway) is being difficult, so click here.

I have no statistical evidence, but I've a hunch that a lot of Harry Potter fans are general anime fans and vice versa. Rowling, you're sitting on a gold mine here (not that you need it, but it'll make us very very happy.)

Disheartened

2011-07-20T14:35:00.002+01:00

In an ideal world, I would have a part time job. In a food/catering industry place working around a kitchen. It could be the counter at Subway, the tables of a random restaurant or the halls of a sandwich-making production line. In that world, I would love my part time job, because it's just simply what I want to do.

In reality, I don't have a part time job that involves food. In reality, the only jobs I seem to be able to 'get' are sales/marketing/promotions work with uncertain, commision-based incomes which I am totally uninterested in. In reality, I am a fourth-year medical students with two weeks of summer break (long past), 3 on-calls this week and much to learn.

Disappointment is quantified as the difference between hope and reality.

'There are only two certainties in life..'

2011-07-19T22:39:00.003+01:00

Just back from evening on call. Totally exhausted.

It's the second week of paeds, and it's been hectic but rather interesting. I always identified myself as one of those people who are 'not good with kids'. Unlike most girls, I just can't seem to be able to do all that kiddy/baby talk and cooing. I just feel weirded out, like I'm forcing foreign actions that's not my personality.

But some kids are quite...adorable.

But I'm not here to talk about how awesome paeds is or how it has changed my view on children. I was thinking about what a palliative care specialist said during the induction weeks of CP1 in February.

(Palliative care is a specialized area of medicine dealing with relieving or preventing suffering in chronic illnesses, including the end-of-life stage.)

So much care is put into the beginning of life. Paediatrics and O&G are such prominent specialties, but Palliative Care? Who's even heard of that? We get two solid blocks, ten weeks each, of Paeds and O&G, thoroughly learning the ins and outs of bringing life into this world, from conception to birth to adulthood. Palliative Care is but an unpopular choice on the selectives option list, and no one looks forward to the Healthcare of the Elderly posting.

So much focus on the beginning of life, but what about the other end? The only other certainty in life that is not taxes? It is all fine talking to a mother about folic acid and Hep B jabs, but what do you say at the bedside of the 88 year old man with ESRF or dementia or excruciating bone mets?

I will admit first that I have no blooming clue.

Another thing the Palliative Care Specialist mentioned that I thought was interesting - how the media further propagates the message that young=good, old=bad. To be beautiful, it's not just about being pretty, thin, fair - above all youth is key. To be beautiful you need to be youthful. Therefore you need this cream to banish wrinkles. You need botox to look younger. You need to get rid of your white hairs.

You are merely worth your youth. Wrinkles, saggy skin, dentures et al are tossed into the cesspit of society's unwanted, to be hidden and never spoken of in positive tones.

But as they say, youth is wasted on the young.

Enough mulling for now, got a ton of reading to do for tomorrow's tute.

Italia: Food is half the adventure.

2011-07-17T19:53:00.014+01:00

If there's one thing I didn't want to skimp on in Italy, it was food. Italy, food, big deal, nuff said.

The first place we descended upon was the Oil Shoppe, a sandwich deli recommended by the guy at the hostel. It's normal patronized by American exchange students (apparently there are quite a lot in Florence), but is largely unknown to tourists. They served up mostly freshly made sandwiches and salads.

I wasn't particularly hungry (had a leftover sandwich I made for the journey) but I had a few bites off the bf's sandwich anyway. It was bacon, mushrooms and some greens if I recall correctly. And some crunchy cracker thing in the middle.

Everything went tos well together, but I reckon the bread was the best part. It was a wholewheat roll that was just...somehow bursting with wholewheat-ness. I don't know. I've had tons of wholewheat bread and buns and rolls in my life but none of them were this tasty.

If I ever have the chance to revisit the Oil Shoppe I'd just have a large order of bread rolls.

I'm your typical ice-cream lover, but rarely indulge in it because...it's an indulgence. I've lost count of the times I've walked past ice cream trucks thinking 'wish I could have one...but meh what for? Little cone's a pound anyway.' But one essential bit of info on Florence: it's gelato central of Italy. Every street and corner had a gelatiserrie and I made it my mission to have gelato twice a day. Rawr.

A good tip on how to find good gelato - lookout for the words produzione propria (means it's made on site and not pre-made) and artiginale (meaning fresh ingredients were used). That was pretty much our benchmark for gelato. If it had the words, we would try it. No words, no go.

Grom was a busy little gelato place a stone's throw from the Duomo that was recommended by the guy behind the desk at the hostel. It still kept gelato in metal tubs instead of plastic tubs, supposedly a more 'traditional' way of storing gelato. My eyes lit up when I saw the extranoir cioccolate flavour. *_*

Thus my first gelato in Italy was a double scoop of extra dark chocolate and almond on a cone. I generally prefer cones to cups - more to eat! The gelato was smooth and sweet, perfect for a hot afternoon.

Bliss.

But nothing compared to this.

Just hours after our first gelato we passed by yet another gelatisserie that was just setting up.

'We just had gelato.'

'That's no excuse.'

And the rest....was history.

Or this monster.

It looks small in the picture, but trust me it was GINORMOUS. A medium cup with 4 ridiculously large scoops of gelato. You see the tub of thick chocolate in the upper left of the previous picture? That was the chocolate sorbet, buried deep under the other three scoops. And I have never, ever had such wonderful chocolate ice cream in my life. Rich, creamy, thick - it was like eating chocolate flavoured butter. (Is that even possible for sorbet?) I was in heaven.

So as if holding a massive cup of gelato (it felt like it could weigh near a kilo) wasn't enough, let me recollect how I managed to finish 70% of that tub all by myself.

We were queueing up to get the pre-booked tickets into the Uffizi, but I didn't want to enter the office as I thought they might not allow food in. We were only halfway through the gelato at best. So the bf got on the queue and I waited outside.

What he said: I'll go in, you carry on with the gelato.

What I interpreted: I don't want anymore, go ahead and finish it.

o_O

Okay I was thinking Are you sure I can finish it? Buttt logic soon got overridden and before I knew it I was slurping down the last bits of gelato....(the chocolate..I swear...T_T )

And so ten minutes later he came out and there I was with an empty cup and more than a few onlookers' eyes on me...

'Umm. I finished it. That's what you said right?'

*cue Bart strangle moment*

You ever had the feeling where you had too much of one type of food and felt sick after? (Once when I was 15 I thought it would be a cool idea to finish an entire tube of Pringles for lunch. NEVER AGAIN.) I couldn't believe how full of gelato I felt.

Way to go. First day already OD.

Still, lesson learnt: moderation, damnit!

I thought I'd not be hungry till the next day (missing a main meal in Italy! The horror!) but by 7pm my stomach was rumbling. Surprising, or not, considering all I ate the whole day was a few bites of sandwich and a lot of ice cream.

A typical Italian meal consists of two to three courses - always the primi (starter), usually pasta with sauce only; a secondi (main) - the meat; and sometimes a dolce (dessert) to finish off. There might be an insalata (salad), antipasti (appertizer) and vino (wine) to wash it down.

It's quite a different concept of eating as opposed to what I'm used to/what I grew up with. In traditional chinese/Malaysian homecooked meals there's usually rice, then the dishes - a variety of meat and vegetables - but all served at once. When I'm cooking for myself I pretty much follow the same 'order' - that is, have everything all together.

The Italian way definitely increases the meal time (not to mention more plates to clean!) but I find it interesting that they do so. In having the different food groups in separate courses, you are not only able to concentrate on the taste of one type of food and thus appreciate it more, it's probably a subtle way of preventing over-eating. You know, the whole business about eating slowly because it takes time for your stomach to tell the brain it's full.

In reality, it's way too time consuming to eat like that everyday though.

Bread or breadsticks are normally served as well, they're like condiments. A tip though, don't fill up on the bread! Being a bread lover I tried to finish all the bread (don't waste ma) but they kept replenishing the bread! And that's how I end extremely full even before the main course was served.

Don't fill up on bread, no matter how tempting. Btw it's normally ciabatta (albeit rather stale ciabatta - I suspect it's sliced from a week-old loaf), but these onion rolls were gooddddd.

Salami and prosciutto. Great stuff. I could never turn vegetarian. Love meat too much.

We ended up having fish for mains though. Baked seabass with asparagus. It was good.

(I'm reminded again why I'm not a food blogger - It's so difficult to write about food. Taste? Texture? Presentation? How on earth are you suppose to translate the explosion of flavours, or the atmosphere of dining into words? That said, it doesn't stop me from stalking food blogs on a regular basis. +_+)

Seared tuna, so rare, yet crusty on the outside, and ingenius with the red sauce. If only I could cook like this.

On to my favourite part: breakfast.

I am a breakfast person. It's just the most awesome meal of the day because I get to have cereal and milk, peanut butter toast, cinnamon oats, pancakes, eggs, and pastries. Not to say you can't have any of the above at any other time of the day, but there's just something about munching on toast before stepping out to face the world every morning.

Italians have their own way of doing breakfast too. The have these breakfast bars, a bit like the average kopitiam where office workers would have a kolo mee and kopi O before heading to the office - only these are most like bakeries with pastries and coffee. Instead of kolo mee and kopi peng, the Italians would have a cappuccino and croissant, stand around the coffee bar or little round elevated tables, then go to work.

Badiani was the breakfast place nearby recommended by the hostel guy. Tarts coffee, pastries, even gelato - this place had the works.

The pastries were pretty reasonably-priced too. There's nothing I like more than agonizing over which pastry to take. I am one of those indecisive people that goes crazy when faced with too much variety. (Hence my love-hate relationship with buffets that offer too many choices).

What we had. Cappuccino for me, cafe latte for him. I'm not a coffee connoisseiour but I have to say the capp was excellent. Smooth and frothy...perfection. I'm a sweets person when it comes to breakfast so I picked the petites, chocolate tart (semolini) and custard pastry (pappatacci), which were all superb. I was a happy, happy girl.

Absolutely divine, this was. Chocolate and what I think was custard in a tart. I went back the next day and had another one.

If only I could have breakfast like this everyday...

Hittin up the roast beef sandwich at Mercarto Centrale. We just had breakfast so I wasn't feeling particularly peckish but I had a bite anyway. Was pretty good, but my mind was still on the semolini.

Lunch at a random little trattoria we found on a quiet street.

The primis for lunch - he sure likes a good penne arrabiatta - had it three times!.

Farfelle in white sauce with bits of salmon. I've definitely learnt a lot more about pastas - knowing a few words help. Sauces, pastas, pairings etc. I never knew farfelle was usually cooked in cream sauce. Or ricotta went really well with tortellini. Or that arrabiatta was spicy pomodoro. The list goes on.

Beef caparcio with parmesan for mains. And I stole his cheese! Rare beef is awesome stuff (assuming it's cooked the right way) and those who think bloody meat is a disgusting breeding ground for parasites is sorely missing out.

I wasn't sure what this was (menu was completely Italian) but I think it's pork fillet. Maybe that's what scallopi means. Or maybe it was chicken. The sauce went terrifically with the meat though. Beans were a bit mushy so most people left it untouched, but I liked it.

Post-meal gelato. Yes I learnt my lesson and did not overindulge in this one. But it's so hard sometimes. All you need to do is get friendly with the server, then get a medium cup and ask if you can have 4 scoops in it. It's sold per cup, so whether you had 1 scoop or 5 small scoops jammed into the cup, it will still cost the same 2.50 euro.

Err more gelato later that day in Pisa. So much for not over indulging. XD (But it's portion sizes that matter!) Whist walking to the tower we spotted this gelataria with a massive queue coming out. Rule of thumb: if it's got a queue, it's gonna be good.

This gelataria had wafers the shape of cups, so it was like a cone-cup, which was probably what it was famous for. The gelato itself was magnifique, but honestly I can't imagine there being bad gelato. I mean a gelato would have to be really, really, really, really, bad for me to have anything negative to say about it.

Dinner at Il Contandino, recommended by Rough Guides. There was a queue to get in and we knew it would be good.

We weren't wrong.

My first pesto was nothing short of amazing. Basil, EVOO, pine nuts and cheese. So simple, so wonderful. I wonder how they cook the pasta so perfectly al dente. Must be a trick about it. If there were grades of al dente-ness, the stuff I cook would be below average, and this, top of the class.

Braised buffalo, deliciously tender and flavourful. The trick behind making meat so tender it slides apart when you bring a fork to it - just stew it for hours. The roast tomatoes were fab too. Salt, pepper and olive oil - what amazes me the most about Italian cooking is how simple it all is, yet how wonderful.

I had the grilled beef with mushrooms. I'm running out of synonyms for 'awesome' and 'excellent' but it was awesome and excellent. Safe to say, we did not have a single subpar meal in Florence. Everything was just so good.

I love how olive oil and balsamic vinegar replace the usual ketchup and mayo as standard condiments. They are the perfect match with salads bar none. Who needs fancy dressings when you have olive oil and balsamic vinegar, really.

Breakfast as the same spot. Chocolate tart and cappuccino round two. Only this time, the swirly custard tart replaced the chocolate as my most favourite thing. So good I could tear. I'll forever remember you, little breakfast pattissierie on Via del Mille.

Lunching at Autogrill at a rest stop. Rest stop food courts are normally quite average, just to fill the tummy that sort of thing, but Autogrill was as good as any high-tier restaurant out there. Prawn risotto, humongous fresh salad, seafood soup, chocolate mousse - I can't even decide which I liked most.

Hostel dinner - ricotta peas pasta. I've tried to recreate this several times but I'm still not getting it! Wonder what I'm missing. Probably cream or some fatty diary product like that.

Quiche, with the onions chopped by an Aussie! If you are making quiche, get an Aussie to chop the onions. They know how to chop them onions.

Tiramisu. Two words: So. Good.

I've had the usual bolognase and carbonara (Malaysian western restaurants love these) but one pasta I was dying to try out was nero or black squid ink pasta, (Nero just means black) so where better to have my first nero than in Venice, the seafood capital itself?

I've wondered how they obtain squid ink. Probably had to scare a poor squid.

Black, squidy and downright delicious. The were generous with the squid pieces too. Words failed me. I just couldn't get over how awesome it was. I couldn't get over how awesome real Italian food was, period.

Polished my plate, and I wasn't even that hungry!

I'm a tasting person, ie I like to have a little taste of everything. (Forms the 'love' part of the love-hate with buffets). The 4 seasons pizza was just perfect - a bit of everything, with mushrooms, artichokes, bacon and Italian sausage on a thin crust. All pizzas are thin crust in Italy, it was the American pizza chains that duffed it all up.

Last gelato - Grom in Venice. I've certainly had my fill of gelato, and I have no regrets (except maybe choosing the chocolate hazelnut instead of the extra dark chocolate!).

The very last meal - dinner in Venice - was a rather rushed affair unfortunately. Timing issues. I just realized I never had a proper lasagna in my life (my first recollections of reading Garfield comics was wondering what 'lasagna' was) so we ordered one from a pizzeria closest to the waterbus station. Wouldn't normally have been a first choice, but I wasn't going to risk missing the waterbus (and subsequently the flight!). This was ok. I'm pretty sure there are better lasagnas out there.

Why is it in American shows they always order pizza with 'everything except anchovies'? I always thought anchovies were like ikan bilis. We had an anchovy/capers/olive pizza and it was good. I don't see what's the problem with anchovies.

Without a doubt, food was definitely one of the best highlights of the trip. If I had one regret about the whole trip, it was that we didn't get to have nearly enough meals!

Eating in Italy wasn't just about mindless chomping, a barter of currency for calories - it was a priceless lesson on culture, a shimmering essence of inspiration, and an experience no 'finest authentic Italian' restaurant outside Italia could ever give. And for that I am truly thankful.

Till we meet again. Thanks for the memories, Italia.

Italia: Being one of the 50k a day tourists in Venice

2011-07-17T00:22:00.024+01:00

Venice. It's every bit as beautiful as they say.

Known as the City of Canals, Venice is probably one of the most famous and identifiable cities in the word. Constantly embattled with floods of water and tourists, its dismayed residents have dwindled in number, so much so that tourists far outnumber locals in this dreamy waterland. Venice is just...Venice. An elegant mess of romance, tradition and capitalism.

Venice is beautiful, there's no dispute, but there's another part of all the hearsay that's true as well - Venice is essentially a tourist city and hence one of the most expensive cities to visit. It is said that there is no off-peak season when it comes to Venice, not even in winter. Hostels and food will cost more all year round, just because they can. And no matter how overpriced everything is the tourists will still come, and what's left of the locals are keen to capitalize on that.

We could only afford a night in Venice due to time constraints. The main attraction of Venice is just the sights and scenes off the main tourist areas, which were quite meh.

Venice is split into several regions or siesteri, namely Santa Croce, San Polo, San Marco, Castello, Cannaregio, and Dorsoduro - and the islands Murano, Burano and Guidecca. The main commercial and tourist areas are San Polo and San Marco, both lining the heart of the Grand Canal, while the rest area quieter and less hustle bustle.

We took the waterbus from the Marco Polo airport to the island itself. There's also a normal bus and train the head towards the islands, but if you want to be on some semblance of a boat, the waterbus is the way to go.

Our hostel was located on San Polo - but due to an administrative error we got a free upgrade to another place about 8 minutes away. It wasn't like a hostel at all, and more like someone's house. There was even a nice garden with all the usual trimmings - hammock, swings etc. It was lovely.

Real grapes hanging off the vine plant in the garden! These were a bit sour, but I still love seeing fruit hanging off branches.

There was even a proper kitchen, all fully equipped. A pity we didn't stay long enough to have the chance to use it.

Out to see the sights.

Alleys, canals, bridges. Water, land, stone. All the way.

Any good guide will tell you - the top thing you must do in Venice is to get lost. Ditch the map. Just walk, wander, see where your feet bring you. Get away from the main tourist areas. Walk the opposite direction of the crowds. That's where you'll find the real Venice.

Time was quite tight for us so we didn't really get to be properly lost, but we definitely did wonder where we were on a few occasions. If I could do it again I'd stay for at least two nights, just so I could have enough unstructured time to get properly lost. Maps cost 2 euro anyway.

After a while all the canals start to look the same, but its beauty is constant.

St Margaret Square, the clubby area where yuppie backpackers and locals hang out for drinks. We were very fortunate to bump into a travel guide writer at the hostel - Sophia, a Harvard Lit major around our age who had been touring Italy for 4 months on work and research. How awesome is that. This was her last night in Italy and she was scouting out the best bars and clubs so we tagged along.

Oh yes more sweets on display. Not sure what this is, but it reminds me of cannelloni. I do regret not trying out some of the sweets I wanted to. There was this green pistachio biscuit and cookies with chocolate heart centres but I kept thinking later, later and never got around to trying it.

I'll survive.

The going rate for a ride on the gondola was about 80euro. It took me all of two seconds to decide: skip. Most people would share and split the costs, but I'm not that hard up for the gondola experience, really.

The water was a perfect shade of aqua blue all the way and I was just spoiling for a good dip. The daytime temperatures were akin to a hot day in Malaysia, something I haven't felt in months!

Just like their food and wine, Italians take their coffee seriously. A cappuccino is a strictly before-11am drink (why 11am?) and there are many other varieties around. I kept having cappuccinos though, being not-so-adventurous with coffee. But the best capp I had was in a breakfast bar in Florence.

Huge slabs of chocolate bars that makes your heart stop just by looking at it.

Every other shop featured these Venetian masks, typically worn during the Festivale. A great souvenir, not to mention a nifty backup just in case your school decides to make the ball/prom masquerade-themed.

Some masks were not so conventional however. I'll pass on the Medusa mask.

Mm this reminds me of Breetai.

Some art gallery showcasing....butts. Asses. Piku. Whatever floats your boat. Imagine displaying this in your house. And having the grandparents/in-laws come for dinner.

...............Okay don't.

The wings ass is pretty...outstanding.

Cat/lion ass.

Speaking of art, the Biennale was in Venice this year, at the time we were there and we didn't even know about it! The bf is a big fan of this yearly showcase of art, it was a pity we didn't have enough time after all to see all of it! The bulk of it was in the Castello region (the eastern tip) but we did manage to catch a few galleries on the way up to Cannaregio .

Not sure if these are photographs of paintings. I suspect the latter.

Real skeleton of a calf embedded in glass. Cool and freaky.

These guys were playing the sweetest rendition of Four Seasons one a street somewhere. It was so good I T_Ted.

Bit of trivia: Vivaldi was originally from Venice! I'd never have guessed.

Street buskers at work.

Elegant Decay is the distinct cultural/historical concept that some places, and structures, become gradually more elegant, notable or beautiful as they decay, or fall into ruin, due to their historical, architectural and/or cultural significance. Although such reverence can often be merely in the opinion of individuals, it is true that certain cities, regions or even countries are more susceptible to the general concept due to past opulence, or their lengthy or enduring history or culture.

Elegant Decay indeed.

On to food and eating in Venice. While reading up on the place I seemed to me that food in Venice wouldn't be expensive or lousy, it would be expensive and lousy. I don't think it was that bad though. There were many food bars like above offering large pizza slices for 1.50 euro and decent-sized wraps/paninis for 3-5 euro. I saw many people just eating the large pizza slices on the steps of the many bridges - it's not much of a meal, but if you're just looking to fill your stomach for under a couple bucks it's a good option.

A sit-down meal at a proper trattoria however, while more pricey than lunch bars, wasn't much more expensive than the a la carte dishes in Florence. The difference were the sets. In Florence, quite a few ristorantes and trattorias had set lunch menus consisting of a primi and secondi for 10-12euros. In Venice, they had these 15-20euro 'tourist menus' with the same 2-3 course offerings, but the title itself screamed tourist trap!

Honestly I'd stay far away from any menu that states so brazenly that it's meant for tourists.

Obligatory Chinese restaurant, probably for asian uncle and auntie tour groups who need to have rice and dishes are every meal. Though coming to Italy to eat chinese food is....

Some hostels provide food at a much lower cost - in Florence the hostel had breakfast and dinner buffets at 3 and 8 euros respectively, but we passed those for the outside recommendations. In Venice the hostel cooked up a 3 course for only 5 euros every night and we decided to give it a go.

One thing I love about staying in hostels is meeting people from all around the world - most of them jet-setting backpackers who've been all over the world. Some of them have amazing stories and backgrounds. Not surprisingly most of said backpackers are angmos from developed countries - this round, mostly females from Melbourne (there were about 4-5 of them?), not to mention loads of Americans.

A lot of backpacker hostels require staff and that's what these globetrotters to - work at one for a few months or years while seeing the sights and living the life of the locals - then pack up and head off the the next destination. Plus with all the people you meet along the way - build up contacts and you'll have a couches to sleep on all over the world.

Every time, I toy with the idea of dropping everything and doing the same, it sounds like a fantastic thing to do - but not to worry I always manage to yank my head out of the clouds and plant my feet firmly back on the ground.

Such dreams are for dreamers. My priorities are different.

Till that night I never knew pasta, peas and ricotta could go so well together. I tried recreating it, but it just lacks a certain...something. I no skill la.

Back to St Margaret's for drinks that night. I tried the Spritz, and this flaming shot called Sex In Italy, the first time I've had any flaming whatever. It burnedddd.

But now I can say 'I had Sex In Italy!' Lol.

Did I mention there were 3 cats in the house?

St Mark's Square and Basilica is one of the core tourist attractions, and it was packed. It was blazingly hot at 2pm, it was crowded as hell, and I couldn't see what the big deal was.

We circled the area for about half an hour then left. I was quite unimpressed. As for paying to join the queue of mad tourists for a glimpse of the basilica interior - forget it.

The Academia bridge is one of the big bridges that link the two sides of the Grand Canal (the other one being the Realto) and the views from the bridge were spectacular.

Skinny house is skinny.

Along the bridges people leave these locks behind. I wonder what it means. Maybe it's their way of leaving their mark in Venice.

Yes Venice is known for its canals, art, gondolas, etc, but one thing I didn't expect to find in abundance here is Universities. There were quite a few of them all around. I'm not sure what courses were offered, but from what I could tell they were mostly art courses.

Imagine being a university student in Venice.

It's quite a surreal thought. Somehow it feels odd having the words 'Venice' and 'university' in the same sentence. But there you have it.

This uni takes learning very seriously. Fail the exam and they'll behead you and hang your cephalus on the door.

Walking around, everywhere. I wanted to get to the Cannaregio because it was supposed to be less crowded. Any where but San Marco.

I wonder how much gondoliers make everyday. The gondola, once a normal means of transport for locals, is now but a 'tourist indulgence' - locals don't even bother anymore. I wouldn't pay to share a gondola with 6 other people (a lot of people do that to split the bill)and have more people gawking down from the bridges above, even if it was deemed so strongly as a must-do in Venice.

Water and land, land and water.

These guys again. Still as good as the last time. I tipped them twice, and I rarely tip buskers.

A painting group in action.

We were lugging our bags from San Polo to San Marco to Cannaregio because the hostel had this 5 euro charge for leaving bags after checkout. No thank you sir. I can handle a few bags and steps. Also protip on not gaining weight despite eating like mad.

Cannaregio was serene, deserted and peaceful. I loved the whole aura of calm about it, after the insane chaos that was St Mark's Square.

Same scene, less people.

Roaming and streets of Cannaregio was one of the best parts of Venice for me. I didn't care too much for the main square, and if I ever came back to Venice again, I'd spend all my time in the remote areas of Castello and Cannaregio and maybe the islands. I find more joy in simply soaking up the silence and remoteness, quietly appreciating that there are/were people who walked, worked, ate, slept, lived at the very spot I stand.

Perplexed doorbell is perplexed.

Fountains with cold, sweet water - a sight for sore eyes and a dry throat.

The final view of Venice as we were waiting for the waterbus back to Marco Polo.

To put it simply: I loved Venice. I want to come back. But the knowledge that I will be just one of the millions of destructive tourists...

Before you navigate away from this page, do read this. Thank you.

Italia 11: Florence and the leaning tower

2011-07-15T21:37:00.020+01:00

Oh Italy. Where do I even begin.

The big three when it comes to visiting Italy are Rome, Venice and Florence - that's where tourists and first-timers to Italia normally descend and these three cities are extremely touristy. We just did Florence and Venice - the former for the art and the latter just because I had to see it before the city sinks and disappears forever. I know it's not much; most students do a whirlwind tour of 5-8 cities in 2 weeks, but we didn't have the luxury of time.

Stretching my legs at 3am at a rest stop near Bologna.

Florence is famous for its grand art galleries and museums, gelato, and massive flocks and queues of tourists. I'll get to the gelato bit later. But they weren't kidding about them queues.

A word of advice about visiting galleries and museums in Florence: the famous ones (the Uffizi and Accademia) require booking a few days in advance, or don't hope to get tickets without waiting 5 hours in a queue.

We did the Uffuzi on day 1 and skipped the Accademia. The latter is known for the statue of David, but that was pretty much it.

To be perfectly honest, the Uffizi didn't exactly blow me away. Maybe it was because everyone was raving about it and I set my expectations too high, maybe it was the queues and overly-touristy bustling atmosphere that put me off, but there was just something quite lacking about my experience in the Uffizi.

There were lots of art pieces no doubt, ranging from biblical paintings to more Victorian-esque portraits (pardon the lack of critical description, I'm no art history expert) but that was it. Rooms and rooms full of paintings.

I always thought of myself as a person who appreciated the arts, but this felt artificial somehow. It felt like just because we were in Florence, we were obliged to see the Uffizi/Accademia and obliged to be awed. It doesn't work that way. I appreciate art at the times and places I least expect it. Whether it's an excellent drawing on deviantArt or graffiti along the train tracks in Brisbane or a simple impressionist painting in someone's living room. If it gets me it does, if it doesn't it doesn't. Art appreciation is subjective just like that.

Oh and photography wasn't allowed. The pictures I have were taken outside the galleries where all the sculptures and busts resided and where no wardens were on the prowl.

But I did find Nearly Headless Nick!

..okay it's not really NHN. (Yes I know #harrypotter7.2 is all the rage right now. I always prefer to wait till the initial hype dies down and catch the movie a few weeks later.)

At the top of the Uffizi there was a little balcony/terrace area with a little (albeit typically overpriced) cafe. It was an incredibly warm day. The weather was hot hot hot all the way though and I absolutely loved it. I'm a rather cold-intolerant person but that also means I have a higher heat tolerance. I can be perfectly comfortable in a warm room even after people start to feel stuffy.

No jacket! And single layer! Loved it.

Apart from the art galleries, the other stellar Florence attraction is the Duomo, a huge cathedral smack in the centre of the city.

You can go in, but it's another massive queue snaking outside the main entrance. Entrance into the church itself is free but no shorts, midriffs etc. Along the queue there were these china ladies selling scarves to uninformed tourists in revealing shorts and the like.

It really is massive, I couldn't take a full picture in one shot. The architecture is nothing short of magnificent.

To go up the dome it's 8euro, but at least you aren't required to cover up. We decided to go up to the top. At least the queue was only an hour long.

I had no idea what it would be like and expected to reached the very tip of the dome and perhaps be allowed on the balcony/landing that must've been seven storeys above.

The stony, spiral steps up the Duomo occasionally opened up to landings or viewing galleries around the dome, where one could have a much nearer view of the elaborately painted ceiling and look down at the wide expanse of the church below.

Unfortunately due to poorly descriptive signs we weren't able to make it to the top. Instead of leading to more ascending stairs, the second landing we were at led to stairs going all the way down. If we hadn't gone through the second landing we would've been able to take the stairs going all the way to the top (I assume). A bit of a con if you ask me.

At least I managed to snap a picture of this. Truly impressive. How the artists and painters managed to get that work of art up there in the 1500s I'll never imagine.

Despite the numerous signs telling people not to write on walls there was graffiti on nearly every bit of wall, all the way up and down. Had a sort of rustic charm to it I suppose.

There are numerous palazzos and piazzas dotted around the city centre. Walk in any direction and you'll bump into one. We managed to find our way round quite alright thanks to a free tourist map. Thank goodness I didn't shell out 4 pounds for the one at WHSmith.

Or you can take a ride in a horse-pulled carriage if you like, but I never quite saw the attraction in being in a carriage - the fun is being jiggled on horseback!

This was Piazza Della Signoria if I'm not mistaken. We came down here quite a bit due to one thing..

Free drinking water! People would queue up to fill up their bottles with clear, cold water straight from the aqueduct. Such a gem, considering it's in the middle of tourist town where a bottle of water could cost a couple euro.

And..in the middle nowhere, a water fountain featuring naked man statues.

Only in Florence. :P

More Piazzas and fountains and...tourists.

The bridge in the distance here is the Ponte Vecchio, one of the main attractions of the city. But we didn't go on it per se either, because it was so chock full of people I don't think we'd have been able to squeeze through. But walking down from another bridge gave us a good enough view of the river and opposite side.

Somewhere near Palazzo Strozzi was yet another church, and this one had some kind of religious ceremony going on. Ordaining of a priest maybe? Catholic traditions were always a muddle for me.

Being so near the Catholic HQ of the world, Florence (and Italy in general) has a very Catholic-religious feel about it, from the numerous churches and cathedrals dotted around the city, to the way buildings are named after saints and the odd altar I spotted along the tourist-devoid, off-the-beaten-track streets.

It may seem that I wasn't very impressed with Florence, but I actually loved it (more so than Venice in fact). The tourist attractions didn't exactly wow me. The main areas and attractions felt too congested with herded tour groups (we even saw one from Singapore lololol) and tourist traps, the attractions themselves overrated and washed up. It just didn't feel like the real Florence.

What actually captured my heart were simply the streets. Looking at the locals, the way they lived, worked and ate. Walking down deserted alleys with not a map-flicking tourist in sight. Checking out ristorante menus a little way down the Duomo, salivating at window displays of sweets and gelato, visiting markets, looking at street vendor wares etc.

It's still relatively touristy since we're still in the heart of Florence, but at least there were less tour groups.

One of the little grocers somewhere. I think one of the magic secrets about Italian food is the ingredients they use are absolutely fresh.

Oo look a hybrid/mutated tomato.

Walking down a random deserted alley, still near the city centre but lovely for a quiet moment for ourselves. There is nothing like it, honestly.

Street artists trading their end products.

I love sweet shops. If I could MRI my brain every time I see the words gelattiserie or pattiserie I'm pretty sure my happy centres would be glittering. There's just something so wonderful about a shop display with edible sweets.

Along the super-touristy piazzas and museums there were many ristorantes and trattorias with nicely decorated al fresco dining areas, patronized largely by tourists. I was so tempted to try one but according to the online independent travel guides (and some common sense), the best way to avoid tourist trap bad restaurants is to steer clear if the eatery is a) within sight of any building with a long queue coming out of it b) full of non-locals c) has a menu translated into English. The last part is a bit variable IMHO, as we did try a place with a translated menu and it was awesome (and full of local Italians).

I just had to take a picture of the chinese restaurant. They're everywhere!

Florence is known for its leather markets as well - sort of how Nottingham is know for lace (but I've never even been to a lace shop here. How do you even sell or use lace?) The leather market to go to was around San Lorenzo, but this was a small ad-hoc-ish market somewhere nearer the Arno river.

The wares were mostly leather jackets, bags, jewellery and book covers that looked like the coverings on dusty ancient manuscripts. I'm not much of a leather material person, but I did have my eye on some bags. Didn't get anything though.

Telecommunications for my brother. How fitting. :P

MY EYES CAN'T UNSEE

Bastardized David is more NSFW than the original.

If you're wondering who's this David, it's this guy:

You've probably seen him before. Apparently a famous sculpture by Michealangelo, located in the Accademia, which we gave a miss.

Lovely accordion player who came serenading in the ristorante where we had dinner on the second night. We ate lots, but if you haven't seen any food so far it's because I'm planning to do a full post on food in Italy. You have been forewarned!

Good advice, sir.

I wonder if Pinocchio originated from Florence, seeing as there were a few specialist toy shops of the fabled puppet. I actually thought Pinocchio was a German fable! (and thought Gepetto was an odd name for a German. Some things just don't click with me. :/ )

The thing about most fairy tales and fables is when they got made into the movies we watched in the 90s, somehow we lose sight of its origins and think of it as a Disney 'original' movie. Cinderella, Snow White and Sleeping Beauty were not Disney originals but somehow when we think of them we think of the movies produced by Disney.

And for the initiated, Vigilant Citizen (a conspiracy theorist website which I find both intriguing and amusing) has something to say on the Disney Pinocchio make, so *shrugs*.

Mercato Centrale is barely 5 minutes walk from Santa Maria Novella station (the most common port of entry into Florence) and is everything I love about a good food market, particularly one from a foreign land. Just as we entered we heard the unmistakable sounds of trumpets and percussion beats on the second floor and proceeded to investigate.

I think there must've been some sort of festival going on here - men in bright suits throwing flags, trumpeters and drummers, abstract art on display, and for some reason, lots of Pinocchio. Maybe it was a Pinocchio festival?

Mm wish I could've known what was happening. We practically stumbled upon it by chance.

The red and blue flag bearers displayed a show of flag waving and tossing, not unlike colour guards in a marching band. In fact it felt like a colour guard showdown of sorts.

And here's Pinocchio! There was a kid's event too, maybe that's why he was around. (Don't know why my pictures are dark even at ISO 800 - it was reasonably well-lit. Sony's light sensitivity was always a bit iffy.)

Or maybe not. Looks like not everyone is a fan. Maybe it's one of those morbid punishment/sacrifice festivals. Who knows.

Back to the market. I really love food markets like these, especially if they are the ones locals visit to get their groceries. I feel like I'm having a little insight to their daily lives, what they buy, eat, and cook, making a mental note of prices and foodstuff available.

Ahh. My utmost favourite thing, bread. When thinking about carbs in Italy, pasta springs to mind the way rice would an Asian country, but bread still features heavily in Italian cuisine. Every proper meal we had came with a complimentary side of bread, as though it were a condiment. Italian food is very carb-heavy in that sense: you have the side of bread even before you start on the primi (pasta - more on that later.)

But from general observation Italians were mostly lean, quite few of them were overweight, compared to say, the UK, despite the prominence of simple carbs in their diet. I suppose the main difference is their food is mostly fresh and cooked from scratch, with hardly anything frozen or processed.

Tripe aka stomach. Growing up, I never really got used to having offal (sad to say, I have no recollection of ever trying kueh chap in Kuching - hence the to-try list when I return in a year's time!) but I did try cow stomach at a dimsum once in the UK - and quite liked it. Since leaving home I've certainly expanded my culinary horizons.

All sorts of pastas, packaged ever so nicely.

The first time I saw slabs of meat hung upside down like this was probably in Harrods. In Italy that's how they cure ham for prosciutto and it's everywhere, even in the airport!

On the exposed side it looked rather grey and necrosed (these ones here actually look quite clean) but when sliced (seen in the background here) - that's when you get beautiful paper-thin wafers of ham - perfection.

We spotted these unbelievably cheap cherries going for 1 euro a kilo here. Bought a bag for only 50 cents(!) as cherries were supposed to help with jetlag and the other half had just flown 8 time zones and was always sluggish in the evenings. I was rather skeptical of their effectiveness but lo and behold they did work! Wish I could've brought more back. A similar amount would've cost a few pounds at Sainsbury's.

Butcher in action tying a sprig of fresh thyme to what I think is a roast cut of meat.

Expensive stuff, truffles are. Never tried any, don't think I'm in a rush to either, especially after Jeremy Clarkson described them as 'diseased testicles'.

So these look less like testicles but still expensive. I noticed most of the highest priced stuff had Japanese translations on them. A sign that the biggest buyers of the priciest things are Japanese tourists?

Offaly good! Parts for sale. Those hearts and kidneys look like they belong on a dissecting table. And the tongue...wow. But look at the pale round things located distally and laterally.

Great big juicy testicles. I'm assuming they belong(ed) to a grass-eating, hooved animal. I'm not sure which part of Italian cuisine (or any cuisine for that matter) involves testicles but....you never know they could taste alright.

Mushrooms feature heavily in Italian cooking as well, hence the scores of fresh mushrooms on sale. Some still with dirt and soil on; it doesn't get any fresher than that.

Getting ourselves a roast meat sandwich - pretty good stuff. If you see locals queueing for something (especially food) that's a very good sign.

The path back to the hostel, which was about one or two kilometers from the heart of the city. We walked everywhereeee. It was a good walk to and fro the hostel, even though it kind of killed my feet. x.x

The hostel was in a former church compound, and was comfortable and reasonable enough. (Which reminds me - need to review on hostelworld!)

The view outside our room. It was airy, breezy, not too noisy, just perfect.

This picture pretty much sums up how people get around in Florence. Outside the city centre the roads are alright, but the little alleys and streets downtown don't make for good automobile transport. In fact the pavements were so narrow many a time we had to flatten ourselves to the side to avoid the occasional oncoming van or taxi.

Loads of people cycle as a means of transport in Florence. You'll see a mother with a toddler in the back, men in suits with briefcases in the basket, girls in billowing skirts - all on bikes. I know I said fresh food in diet had a part to play in their general leanness, but perhaps all this physical activity is key to the fitness of the average Italian.

There are cars of course, mostly two door hatchbacks. The Japanese aren't the only ones who like their small cars. (What a contrast from home, where people just love to flash their humongous four wheel drives!)

But there were soo many of these small cute cars around.

Great for sashaying around town for the day, but not exactly ideal for say, picking up the extended family at the airport. Still, I'd love to have myself one of these babies one day.

Who needs petrol when you can charge up your electric car in town? Not sure if there was any cost to it; on examination of the power port there didn't seem to be any meters or coin slots. In fact the plastic lid was unfastened, I could have yanked out the plug if I wanted to. Ah, Europe.

Pisa was an hour and a half away by train, so we daytripped it.

Pisa was definitely smaller and less busy than Florence. The tower is a 20 minute walk from the station in a straight line. I wouldn't spend a night in Pisa - a daytrip is all you need to take a few pictures to say you've seen the famous landmark.

They have innovative bike 'stands' in Pisa.

Like Florence, Pisa had a river running through the town, and with great rivers come great bridges.

The streets of Pisa was an interesting mesh of foreigners and locals going about their daily business. For some odd reason, the few beggars around would have a bevy of puppies around them - as though using the canines to elicit sympathy. Like seriously?

But there you have it, the leaning tower of Pisa in all its glory.

Obligatory look-ma-I'm-pushing-the-leaning-tower-of-Pisa pic.

Back in Florence, we checked out a supermarket before leaving the city. The supermarket was located way off the tourist city centre map, so it was a real glimpse of the lives of the locals.

Tomatoes were in season. A whole aisle in the fresh vegetables section with every size, shape, colour and species of tomato possible - with strategically placed basil lined at the sides, so fresh I could smell it from a metre away. Tomatoes and basil - the very core of Italian cooking. I love it.

Not to be missed either - the staple pasta.

You don't mess with the birthplace of Nutella. I like Nutella. Then again, it's hard not to like something that's 70% sugar. Just don't do this.

This little device was on all the shopping carts, a handy little thing. From what I could deduce, it was like a little bar code scanner - scan all the items as you go along, then just shove it down a special reader at the checkout, which scans all the items you've entered at one go. Talk about innovation!

Hitting the road for the next destination: Venice! Coming soon. (But don't hold your breath, procrastination and writer's block make for very sloppy and delayed posts.)

Stolen and Broken

2011-07-12T00:38:00.003+01:00

Italy stole my heart.

I loved the food, the streets, the culture, the weather, the scenic beauty and general atmosphere. In fact the only thing I didn't enjoy was the touristy activities and spots mentioned in guidebooks, the sort of things and places you had to see or do just for the sake of it.

After being disconnected from social media for 5 days I came back only to find the virtual walls of Facebook and Twitter plastered with news, articles, videos, photos, notes, of the Bersih rally.

Italy stole my heart, but Malaysia broke it again.

But if I may offer my humble opinion: while I do admire and have utmost respect for those who genuinely put their lives on the line for this cause, I can't help but feel it is a little over-sensationalized. Sure humans are always united in the face of calamity, oppression, disaster (which is what spawned the 9/11 conspiracy theories anyway) and it's nice to see people get nice warm fuzzy feelings over #bersihstories and well-written articles, but it's precisely because I can see 'what you did there' in the sense of the word, with now every Tom Dick and Harry suddenly interested in the political mechanisms of this country that makes me feel...like most sensational events, is just going to be hangat hangat tahi ayam, particularly with those who were never really current-events orientated in the first place.

But why be a wet blanket? Let the wave be enjoyed while it lasts.

All I can say is,

Malaysia may get better, conditions may improve, the NEP may be totally abolished, corruption eradicated, so on and so forth. But I'm not going to hold my breath. My parents have worked too hard to give me these precious options and I'm not about to throw it all away just so I can go back and play nationalist hero. I love my home state/country but my sense of filial duty is stronger.

In the meantime...

With Every Step You Climb Another Mountain

2011-06-30T20:37:00.011+01:00

Snowdonia.

This was quite a while ago, during the bank holiday weekend after Easter. Yes, Royal Wedding weekend.

Just a week or two before while cycling it up at the Peak District a friend mentioned how she'd like to scale Snowdonia. That was the first I heard of it.

That weekend I decided to get out of Nottingham and camp it out in Manchester. Turned out that my buddies in Manchester were spending that weekend in Wales, so I just hopped on for the ride.

Took the Pyg trail up.

The Welsh countryside is extremely picturesque. I had a hard time picking out pictures because most of them were just postcard perfect.

Perfect day for a hike. So thankful for the gorgeous weather.

This kind of terrain really calls for hiking boots, though sneakers are fine too. My trusty sneakers, already well worn in, get an extra round of breaking into.

We were told the initial third of the ascent was the easy part, and the last third the hardest. Which was true - but somehow it didn't feel that bad.

So New Zealand won the bid for Location To Shoot Lord Of The Rings, but I'm pretty sure Wales was a very close contender.

Hmm I feel like watching LotR now.

Let there be sheep.

From where we were we could see the Miner's trail - the alternative to the Pyg trail we took.

Meet Natasha, fellow IMUian and best host in the world. :)

Stone sculpture.

This was when my fringe was starting to poke my eyes.

Tilt head for cardiac-shaped lake. Presumably created from past mining activity.

Looking back at how far we've come.

Clouds = nearing the top! This was where it started getting tougher.

And we're there! This isn't the peak per se, more like a flat landing-like area but nevertheless still the top of the mountain.

It's a long, steep way down.

The misty part was where the cloud was. When you walk in it it's just a strong, chill-to-the-bone gust of wind.

When I was a kid I thought clouds were physically solid, like cotton candy you could tear apart with your hands, or something you could bounce and sit on. I always wondered what it would be like to walk through a cloud.

Guess I know now. :)

That's the real peak up there, with some sort of direction plate on it. Just a few more steps up.

Little souvenir shop in the train stop (yes there's actually a train that goes all the way up to the top for people who can't trek), with a little cafe area and most importantly, toilets!

Got myself a shotglass, these little guys were going for 99p a pop.

Lounge/eating area for hikers to set their backpacks down and munch on lunch. And shield from the crazy wind outside.

So it was purple up, green to the peak, yellow down. The yellow trail was the Llanberis path, which led straight to the charming little town we stayed at.

The day Wills married Kate, I was miles high away from a TV set or Youtube. Totally worth it. There's always reruns. We watched a Royal Wedding replay that night at the hostel.

Starting the descent.

The descent was easier, but had its tricky bits as well. It's not always easier going down.

This is sheep country.

Indeed.

Wales, oh you pretty thing you.

What I'm munching on as I'm typing this.

2011-06-27T19:24:00.001+01:00

Cuz I can't get myself enough seafood egg noodle stirfry.

Warm AND sunny? This needs a post.

2011-06-27T16:49:00.003+01:00

So continues the good-weather-streak! Woke to a magnificent sunny 24C and decided I would not camp in my cold, cold room while it was so bright outside. Walked to Beeston for a sort of 'day out'. I go there for groceries nearly every week (there's a big Tesco and Sainsbury's but I'm more a Tesco person) but never really ventured into the many side shops and charity shops and knick-knack shops or even been off the beaten High Road path.

I love walking through Highfield Park to get to Beeston. It's about a 20 minute walk but feels much shorter when there's always so many things to see, like a squirrel or two, families and joggers utilizing this wonderful piece of public property, swans and geese, puddles of ice cream melting on the untarred ground, or a family of ducks sitting in the shade.

Prior to coming to Nottingham, everytime I mentioned Nottingham to people, be it people who'd studied/worked/lived there before, or just visited - one of the constant replies I got was 'it's a beautiful place.' Sure enough it's a large sprawling campus with a lake - but I still think of Nottingham as a rather ordinary place; not dark and dreary but not exactly mind-blowingly awesome either.

The lake is a very good place for a jog though - a full round is nearly 2km and at my best I could do 3 rounds under 40 minutes quite easily. Then my ankles and knees started hurting so I switched to cycling but..oh well.

You don't always see snapshots of the UK busking in this sort of sunny background (university brochures don't count). What they say about England being grey and dull half the time is quite true, unfortunately.

Beeston on a Monday morning. Definitely not as bustling as a Saturday, but at least more shops are open. Because I would normally cycle to get my groceries I would carry a hugeass camping bag to store a week's worth of food (dangling plastic bags on the handlebars make for very precarious cycling) and thus never really explore all the little shops around.

There are plenty of charity shops around, selling secondhand books, clothes and knick knacks. Love the books. They usually sell from 50p to a few pounds, and how bad a condition can a book be in anyway, short of having pages ripped out or sporting massive coffee stains. All the second hand books are in decent condition and I don't think I will ever buy a full-priced, brand new book again, at least not for a long time.

Getting off the beaten track did lead to a discovery - Beeston has a public library! :D Never knew it. Sat myself for a good two hours reading about the history of American immigration (don't mind me, it just intrigues me). Apparently there are more Japanese people than whites or Native Americans in Hawaii, due to mass migration in the 1900s. No wonder Japanese game shows always have a week's vacation in Hawaii as the grand prize.

Ohoho. And I thought 50p books were the shizz. *glee*

They even had chinese books as well! It's mostly in traditional script but thankfully I could still read some of it. Despite not speaking, reading or writing much chinese in the past 5 years or so, I can still remember how to speak, read, and write, and could even recognize some chenyu and yanyu while googling 'chiese proverbs' the other day (yes I google random things).

It really is true that the best time to learn a language is when you're young. I was thrown into the deep end for 6 years at a chinese primary school and since then have not been able to truly unlearn the language. I could definitely do much, much better, but sometimes I'm amazed at how much I've retained despite neglecting the language for so long.

There was also a shelf for manga and the usual DC/Marvel comics, though nothing interesting on the manga side apart from Full Metal Panic and a Range Murata artbook. I didn't enquire about membership but I'll definitely be back to do so, perhaps when I get myself another bike. A senior is selling his and I may just take up the offer. We'll see about that.

I also popped into Sainsbury's and Tesco (well 'popped in' for about half an hour) just wandering around the aisles. There's something about supermarkets - I enjoy just whiling away time looking at stuff on sale and comparing prices and not buying anything. When I was stressed out during exams I would cycle to the nearest supermaket (must be large enough for me to window shop unnoticed), look at stuff, and leave empty handed. There'd always be a thousand and one things I'd want to get - this jar of sauce, those canned beans, the loaf of bread going cheap.

When I'm by myself my temptation-resisting powers are always on to the max. Though it's funny how my greatest shopping temptations are not bags or shoes but the big bag of spinach that's going for 50p for today only.

It was already cloudy and threatening to drizzle (which it did) when I started walking back. Ah well. The sun was good while it lasted.

Looks like it's back to dull and drizzly tomorrow.

Hello Summer

2011-06-26T21:29:00.002+01:00

It is an incredible 27C tonight. That's near-Malaysian heat! I actually perspired without my jacket on while walking to church today. The heat might've been too much for some, but for me it was perfect. I hope summer weather holds up this well. If it could be 26-27C everyday I'd be a very happy camper.

I took this picture at about 8.30pm today. It's been like that for weeks - still bright at 9.30pm, even 10pm. I always hear the birds chirping around this time. They sound exactly like the birds outside my window on the first floor at Central Park when I was 9 or 10, waking up at 7am for Primary school. Somehow.

Today was a lazy Sunday, supposedly. I made blueberry muffins. From scratch, no messing around with mixes and whatnot. They turned out pretty well I suppose.

I somehow ended up eating more cake/sugary stuff than I have for the past month (or two) altogether. I polished up the last bit of red velvet cake a friend gave me days ago, sampled a blueberry muffin (only to find the blueberries giving a rather sour taste), delivered some to a friend's place to find the most amazing cheesecake waiting (of which I had a rather decadent slice), ending up at another friend's place post-warehouse/grocery shopping where I was served carrot cake with cream cheese and melted chocolate, then a final muffin delivery to my future house (currently occupied by seniors) where I had a bite of the most ridiculously rich toffee cream donut.

All in a day. I feel like I may be oozing out cream and sugar from my pores anytime soon. The thought of food makes me a little sick.

It was a good day nevertheless.

It's been a while.

2011-06-25T19:38:00.002+01:00

Somewhere along the line, the urge to blog gradually diminished, leading to what is commonly expressed as 'my blog is dead lol'. While I was stressing out with exams many potential posts did run though my head, but laziness got the better of me.

Something rather happened today. My bike got stolen. I parked it outside Broadmarsh at about 2 in the afternoon and had a jolly good time whiling around the streets on my own, trying on clothes, looking wistfully at the street market food...only to come back 4 hours later to find my bike gone.

I must have stood there for about 5 seconds in shock. I chased after a burly uniform-wearing man hoping he would be a point of authority to guide me on what to do next, but turned out he was just a parking warden and told me to call 999. I did, and left details with the police but the chances of recovering my bike are slim.

I walked back. Mingled with the shock and disbelief were feelings of grief and loss. It's quite indescribable, one has to experience it to know what it's like. But perhaps the fact that this sense of loss was so foreign to me, is a testament of how blessed I really am.

Only now do I realize how attached I am to my bike. It was nothing spectacular, a third-hand two wheeler I got for 30 quid off some seniors. The right brake was faulty and the gears a little stiff. But I utilized it quite a bit - weekly groceries (on the basis that I refuse to pay 1.04pounds for a 5 minute bus ride), on Sundays to church, to town (ditto), to the Sports Centre for squash, just cycling around exploring Nottingham. Despite its wonky bits it was quite a smooth ride. It cut down my travel times by half which was extremely useful. I always marveled at how fast cycling was compared to walking.

I still remember the Saturday before my exams. It was only last week. Being cooped up in the library all week and not getting any exercise my joints were all stiff. That evening I mounted my bike and just rode wherever, my mind blank. I ended up taking the canal route to town. It took just 15minutes and was incredibly peaceful and calming. From town down Derby Road, up Faraday and past Raleigh Park, dropped in Lidl to check it out (I'd never been there), then down Middleton Boulevard, where the Medilink passed by everyday. One and a half hours later (a third of that spend in Lidl - I can spend ages in Supermarkets just idling, comparing prices and not buying) I reached home, refreshed and feeling great.

I miss my bike.

I can't even feel anger or resentment at the person/people who did it. Maybe they had their circumstances. Maybe, upon finding the brakes faulty and whatnot, they would have dismantled it and sold the parts, or just chucked it. But if they are going to utilize it as it is, I beseech them.

Please take care of my baby.

[brb moping and mourning]

...

Imminent.

What the fog?

Times like these

incompatible

What looking up fish recipes led me to.

Poor you.

Pale Stools

I'm reminded why I always hung out with guys.

cat·ty

Medicine is full of anecdotes.

I don't normally have celebrity crushes...

Somewhere at the back of my mind

Finally the room

Food=dump

My guilty pleasure is back.

The cool kids.

Exclusion.

meh.

Oh England, what have you become?

What's After SPM?

So many things.

A'd like tae veesit Scotland ae day.

Realization of the Night #2

How did it come to this?

Static on a screen

When I'm down, I stop being down....

Laughing Stock.

Oh look at these boring plants.

Manning it up

Disheartened

'There are only two certainties in life..'

Italia: Food is half the adventure.

Italia: Being one of the 50k a day tourists in Venice

Italia 11: Florence and the leaning tower

Stolen and Broken

With Every Step You Climb Another Mountain

What I'm munching on as I'm typing this.

Warm AND sunny? This needs a post.

Hello Summer

It's been a while.