black leather sofa

There are some moments in my life I want to preserve.  Like when I wake up in the morning and realise that the morning sun is different from the afternoon and thus, it was nice that I got to stand around and watch the ray fall from an angle and feel the morning breeze. It made it okay that I didn't get enough sleep. Or like when I stand in our garden in the dark of the night and it felt like we own a jungle because even though I knew the neighbours were in and I could hear the cars going home, I knew that I was alone because no one could see me and the leaves weren't green because it was dark. In those moments, I knew that even though there is a real world in which I exist, there is a fragile bubble that captures me by surprise from time to time to allow me to own all the time and space in that fraction of the day of my life in which I can smile to myself and for myself.

Most of the time, I admit to being almost apathetic, but when I'm home, I can't escape reading the papers: I wake up near noon, wash up and walk downstairs. There sitting on the dining are the news printed both in Chinese and English. I have no where to go to in the afternoon, usually; which means I can take forever sipping coffee or Vitagen while flipping through current affairs. I rather enjoy it actually, except for the fact that I keep waking up to realising what a sh*tty state my country is currently in. The daily reports of how the men running the country are scr*wing one another up are like episodes of a series much like "The L Word", except here it's "The G Word". And I don't relate to these people at all. I wish they would all shut up. I wish the system would stop prioritising spoilt, brainless kids. I wish for competition because it's too obvious that the only people who are privileged to climb to the very top of our political hierarchy are too busy building their own M*llywood.  Monopoly breeds complacency.

But then again, what do I know besides the fact that everytime I try to be a little more informed, my blood boils and it might be better to stay ignorant for the sake of my health.

toys are for playing
like the floor is for dancing
you never know what's happening
till the second minute's passing

Sometimes, I refuse to belong. Why do I need to placed in a category just so that some other person can organise me in his brain a little easier. It's a rebelious thought and somewhat wannabe perhaps, but hey, if I felt comfortable belonging, I would gladly do so.

London was too short, but sweet. The weather decided to behave, I got to spend time with my brother, and I even made a day trip to Milton Keynes. The hostel I was in, though, was a huge mess; and by huge, I refer not only to the extent to which they are disorganised, also the size of that place. These two factors combined, one can only imagine what a, well, mess the hostel was. Still, it rolls right onto the list as one of those back-packing experiences, and I won't lie but admit how proud I am of myself for having survived various sleeping conditions over these months.

Somehow, whenever I compare the European cities I've been to with Paris, the one word that keeps coming out is "big". Everywhere else seems so grand scale in comparison to Paris. It's a huge city, no doubt, and with many unique centres of various attractions and characteristics; but the streets just feel narrower, and everything a wee bit more compact. London, for one, is really big. Wide streets, taller buildings, and walking from one point to another really bored and tired me out at times, much unlike the numerous interesting little streets and sights in compact (or simply, packed) Paris that makes walking more enjoyable. Affordable shopping in London, on the other hand, must win hands down. Unfortunately, I had not the time, nor finances, nor most importantly, baggage allowance!

- - -

So, to close this exchange report, I want to record a few things that I've noticed and keep crossing my thoughts.

1. It's always great to meet new people. It's coming in contact with something fresh and new, and with that novelty there's that excitement, that something new to be curious about, that something new to learn, that little new exposure, that little new experience to gain. As much as I enjoy doing that though, I realise I'm a little emo-nemo when once in a while, I meet someone really sweet, someone I imagine I would befriend for a long time, someone I imagine stealing into my pocket. Because I keep trying to find meaning in everything I do, continuity and "what next?" are obvious questions that keep dancing in my head. Times like these I wish I wouldn't meet people.

2. I really hate to appear obsessive over certain things, for instance food. Hunting down a recommendation on the guidebook and ordering what it says is the best dish in the place probably reduces the taste by 50% instead of adding to it by giving me a sense of accomplishment. To me, eating is a natural thing: If I am hungry, I look for a place that suits my budget, looks good, and then I sit down and eat comfortably. I hate the current trend of obsessing over fashion too. Like any girl, I'm probably really vain and constantly conscious about my appearance, but to have all these theories about how one dresses or to keep a photographic record of what one wears each day is insanity to me. There appears to be too much work in that, like it wasn't a talent, a natural gift, the way it's supposed to be.

3. I still can't figure out how I pass most of my leisure. It embarasses me sometimes- but mostly it just annoys me- that I can't seem to answer the simplest questions such as what are my favorite movies, books or genres of music. It could partly be explained by my obsession with not obsessing over most things, but it must also be that I don't read, watch films or listen to music that much anyway. Unfortunately for me, these are some of the most basic questions asked to me when making new acquaintances. Hence, I have made a secret (no longer) resolution to find the answers for myself. I don't understand though, how do I oblige myself to remember details about mediums of entertainment that are supposed to help me relax, free up my mind et cetera, et cetera... ? And how do I claim that X is the best book ever when really, I've only read 0.001% of the books out there?

This very long holiday is soon coming to an end. One last stop: London. As is the case when nearing the end of anything, I have been thinking, trying impossibly to sum up how I feel about the past 5 months. One thing I do know however, is that happy and thankful as I truly, really, sincerely am for this long holiday, I am ready to go back to Singapore. I acknowledge the fact that this is a holiday, not reality, and that life must be about reality, given I am not a trillionaire who prefers not to lift a finger for anything. I am nervous about going back to a stressful environment, to changes, to readapting, but I can't wait to graduate, and I want to think I am ready to work for some good results. I am ready for a little more work for my brain, I am ready to miss this holiday until I am on holiday again.

As with every new semester, I look forward to new experiences. There are some plans, some ideas, some ideals, so let's see what happens.

And my last words to Europe would be: I hope you aren't the ones complaining about China's lack of public W.C.s!!

I guess it was worth my 8 hour train ride. I will remember Barcelona as a place of laughter, a meeting point for friends. Here, there are almost no rules, no ethics of conduct that I feel obliged to obey. In the midst of animated, intoxicated people, here in Barcelona, I learn to speak with gestures.

It is as if I did a mini-exchange to Barcelona. During this second trip, especially, I felt like I have been in the city for a long time. I was showing friends around, like a tour guide. And lovely company they were. It was one of those sweetest moments standing forever, in awe, at the gates of Sagrada Familia, having important discussions. I started to pick up some numbers in Spanish.

All this though, would not have been possible without Roger. Thanks to his hospitality, we saw the countryside, cleaner beaches and a famous cemetery. Not to mention my free accomodation and the aforementioned opportunity to mingle with some animated, intoxicated locals, which was the perfect way to make me feel a lot less touristy, and allow me to do some real cultural observation.

An event worth documenting is my last night in Barcelona. It was the eve St. Joan, and the city was a war zone. Everyone was out on the streets lighting up all possible sorts of fireworks. There was a blast, a spark every couple of seconds. Roger's neighbour from across the street was even shooting fireworks to his balcony. It was partly hilarious and interesting, sometimes pretty, but mostly it was also really scary. It was not my first time being around fireworks but it was definitely the most life-threatening time, and I am not exaggerating. Think "no fear" children blowing up thrash cans and ATMs, and drunk adults firing nowhere everywhere!

From Nice, I took a train to Avignon to meet L, a lady I met while in Madrid. We visited the city briefly, and then went to Malataverne, the village where she lives with her three boys, a dog and 6 cats. In their sweet provencal stone house, I spent 3 nights.

It was a different sort of holiday, a real first. We took walks across fields and forests, on mud, dirt and stone. We played soccer with the children, raced down an empty street, said hi to everyone and collected wood for fire. I drank tea from wild herbs, watered plants with an old, friendly farmer. He was deaf but could make some sounds in French and gesture and mouth a lot. So, we conversed, somewhat. He told me some stories, showed me around the village where L works for two couples who bought a mansion to host orphans in the summer. We went to his farm, to his greenhouse to take some basil for L, and then went into his cottage for apple juice. His was a house I had only read about in fairytales, and he too was such a man. I wanted to hug him forever.

In Malataverne, we ate fresh local produce everyday. I was almost vegetarian. The tomatoes were sweet. I was happy, and healthy, and I could breathe. L also happens to teach yoga so we did a session of yoga, too, at Lussan!

Reflecting now, the past two weeks or so of traveling feels surreal. It was almost like a last, brave dash out into a cultural exchange--an experience I am thankful for, a great way to end this exchange, very rewarding.

Revisiting Nice alone, I felt like I could walk everywhere blinfolded. I met a bunch of intoxicated people at the hostel. The first night we chatted over their pre-drinks, and it was funny to really lie on my top-bunk and observe the circle below. The warm feeling of being able to go on forever cracking the stupidest jokes with the people you have grown familiar with. The comfort with touch. The pretence. The competition. How meaningful yet how meaningless. The sole purpose of getting drunk. The commitment to that purpose despite the tiny, stuffy room; stiff beds and dirty floor.

The next day, I visited Menton, finally. A peaceful town on the coast, not too touristy. Jazz on the street. Almost perfect. Then, back in Nice, I met another one of those guys while reading by the beach. It never ceases to surprise me how shallow it could be, how meaningless it obviously is to me yet not to them. The fact is to me, touch is a language of comfort, of affection. Gaze is bravery and intelligence and a search for truth. Staring is disgusting and pushing it is raising one's own stake of losing face. Sweet is recognising I am being polite and kissing goodbye. Yet, things like these are more often than not bitter.

Later, I went with the girls to some friends' enviable studio for their pre-drinks. Again, it was a perfect opportunity to observe some sort of social behaviour. Freaky me aside though, it was great chatting and laughing with our uber-sweet Korean hosts.

I really think it should be understood that being open-minded does not equate to having no (firm) opinions of one's own! I am really stubborn because I really believe in the things I do; because I believe I have arrived at my beliefs through tedious processes of rationalisation, but that doesn't mean I do not accept the fact that there are more than one conclusion I could have arrived at, which you obviously have. Accepting that is open-minded and it stops there. To give consent or approval is to convert and that has to do with conviction, not acceptance, nor open-mindedness.

The ability to be what the world today defines as modern, edgy, new, up-and-coming is not open-mindedness. Perhaps it's a gift, a talent, or merely a matter of personal taste.

I don't know, life is one long process of rationalisation because we all love to be tortured, and so, perhaps, I am still rationalising. You know I said it just to make you feel better.

- - - -

On a lighter note, I am finally reading Romeo and Juliet. If only we still speak in rhymes and riddles and poetry! I especially regret not having taken Chinese literature seriously, it must be beautiful too. Ah, if only I was as interested in Mathematics.... I might have a real ambition now.

Prague was beautiful, old and charming. Magical, the way they said it would be. I wish it would not change when I am back again, with people I love, with my family. Yes, it's really magical when I go to a place and all I can think of is: I will be here again. And it's always a joy, definitely, to find such places.

Dinosaurs, though extinct, if ever they existed, are one of my favorite animals! It's a childhood thing: to remember how Jurassic Park created the dinosaur craze and how we were at the exhibition in Pesta and how my then chubby brothers were dressed in identical bright blue shirts with dinosaur patterns all over. I've always been whinning to the girls that I would really like to visit the museum of natural history in Paris, because they have all these bones inside; but hey surprise! I did it in Prague. We were expecting national treasures, really, when we headed to the National Museum of Prague" on a free-entrance-for-all Monday. Vraiment, quelle suprise! Et il a coute rien :)

A sweet voice piercing into my heart the way the crow pierces my ear
Impossible to ignore
Clearly there
Words swimming into my ears the way my hair drops too much
Uncontrolable
And sometimes that's just how I get these really happy days
The happy smiles from people I love
These voices, these words

Comfort in a strange place is
Blocking out my space with my earphones
Finding familiarity

27th - 29th April, Florence
Beautiful! Beats Rome, for me. Hawkers everywhere, it's so interesting. I want to buy everything!
But too many mean Italians. Too rude. Too racist. I have never felt so Asian. I have never felt more Chinese than in Italy.
Let the Indian immigrants come. Let the Chinese come. Let the Asians earn their euros. It's great.
I am getting almost hateful towards the Italians, in general. I expected friendly, easy-going people who are too flexible and carefree, like their untuned clocks! Alas, they are closed-minded businessmen.
A beautiful country, what a pity! I hate that the people factor would prevent me from returning. What a pity!

30th April - 1st May, Venice
Again, beautiful. What art! I want to buy everything! But again, why do people roll their eyes at us, close their doors when we approach, speak to us in a patronizing and derrogative tone? I greet you buongiorno, ciao and say grazie like an Italian even though I am not. That should be respect enough to earn respect in return. In the first place, I am a guest!
But sigh, a beautiful place. How ironic. It confuses me. I don't know how to rate my trip!

1st May - 2nd May, Milan
What joy! The people are nice, finally! The neighbourhood of the hostel is shady, they seemed not to have been expecting our arrival. The toilets can't be locked! Ah, but it's an adventure, no?
Finding a proper Chinese restaurant that beats even the great Chinese food in Florence makes up for it. I really have never felt or been so Chinese as now. We ate there lunch and dinner everyday, knowing in Paris it is not possible to get authentic Chinese food at the same price because they are made by Vietnamese.
Shopping is great in Milan, I wish I had more days. And the Gelato is the best, what a surprise! A perfect end, at last.

24th April, Rome, Day 1
On pebbled roads, it was a long and bumpy ride. It was strange for me, to be trapped in a bus with persons dressed fully in traditional religious costumes. The stifling aura of religious piety that would soon be symbolised by the Vatican wall was immediately felt.
The hostel was difficult to find. It was raining and I was walking in circles, desperate, running into cold faces. The reception at the hostel was colder than the wind and rain. No dinner. I was having a temperature and I just wanted to sleep for 12 hours.

25th April, Rome, Day 2
Too many Indian immigrants earning my tourist dollar! Where are the locals that I should be paying for stepping on their soil? What is the link between India and Italy? Why is it that here I find ABN-Amro but not in France or Spain?
Too many people. Too many tourists. I can't see the beauty of the city that I am supposed to see.
Ah, the shops are closed? Oh, it's Liberation Day.
I need to go to a hill where I can breathe better. Piazza Spagna is beautigul. I love Piazza Popolo. Less people.

26th April, Rome, Day 3
Too many people. Tourist everywhere. I will not queue. I hate to. I would rather be happy discovering Rome as I like it. I like Campo di Fiori. An executioner looking over the hawkers. I like Piazza Novella. It never ceases to amaze how painting could be such an expensive thing to do when there are so many painters who are but normal people!
We were very efficient tourists. Hoping from spot to spot, taking photos.
At last, Rome is growing on me. The sight of the ruins from good locations can be breath-taking. Heights. I love heights. It's always great from higher ground!

27th April, Rome, Day 4
It's not possible. There is constantly a human wall around the Vatican. One as thick as its own.
I gave up the Museo Vatican and went to walk along the river. The weather was great and the streets were almost mine! I went to Castello Sant Angelo again. I went to Campo di Fiori again. I love revisiting places. Then, I walked to Piazza Novella to see it again and to have my espresso and pay for it like a tourist does. The hawkers have disappeared. It's a Sunday.
We are going to Florence.

It really does not matter what one meant to say, what one meant to do, what one set out to achieve. It is the end product. Success is me having made myself understood the way I wanted to. If I meant well then the other party should feel well. Yes, everybody is entitled to their unique ways of interpreting situations but that is also exactly where the challenge lies: to know my audience through and through I am able to speak their language.

It is a difficult task and very perfectionist but perhaps I am simply tired of hearing "I meant well". It is more than anything else an excuse meant to comfort one from the fact that he has caused another harm, instead of comforting the one who has been offended.

Having said that, this is only one extreme, my personal opinion.

Je veux t'enlever. Tiens bon. Je promets. Je t'aime.

Sometimes I just don't hate it. Everything seems right in that magical, accidental moment and I am in happy dreams. I could not care less about them yet I could love them all, all in that moment when I was knocking my fingers against the pole.

And I almost skip out thinking there really is nothing I hate, and tomorrow I will speak to the man with the big black dog at Chateau Rouge and we will be friends. I will steal a photo of him and show it to you! 

Voici les parole d'une chanson que j'aime beacoup à l'eglise. Il s'appele "Pour qui tu es":

Je me tiens

Dans Ta présence

Pensant aux bonnes choses

Que tu as faites

J'attends

Patiemment

À entendre doux voix de Toi

Dieu Saint, Dieu Juste, Fidèle pour toujours

Sauveur qui guérit, Ami Rédempteur

Je T'adorerai pour qui Tu es

Je T'adorerai pour qui Tu es

Je T'adorerai pour qui Tu es, Jésus

 

Mon âme est en lieu sûr

Ta promesse est certaine

Ton amour dure à toujours

After all these years of having to experiment with various ways, I believe I have finally found the most efficient way of explaining the fact that I eat spicy food but despise chillies and peppers: I dislike spiciness in its raw form!

I loved learning about Andy Warhol in class this week. The things he says makes sense. I especially agreed when he thought that we are all becoming more similiar because of our efforts to differentiate ourselves. Because lately I keep thinking it's really okay to be normal because it's so silly how we keep trying to be really special, when we supposedly already are. Moreover, isn't it some sort of known thing that people who try really hard to be special just end up really confused?

If I had to choose some people to idolise, like superstarts, I think I'd say Andy Warhol and Karl Lagerfeld now. But of course, I'm not supposed to idolise anybody, so no. But I just really admire them.

It's Good Friday and Easter this week, which gets me thinking.

Half the world says that you've got to be able to take care of yourself before you take care of other people. God says "come as you are, broken." Obviously, God is right but imperfect as I am, the world has its own gravity on me, which makes me torn. I guess thank God for this bugging consciousness. It's not easy to keep having to confront flaws in one's own life and say "okay, let's try to make this right again." It's not easy to just say "let's not worry about anything, it'll work itself out."

But I'll try, or maybe I shouldn't?

Anyway, seriously, thank you Jesus for dying on the cross for a wretch like me!

Mon quartier préféré à Paris. Ici, je souhait que moi, je suis aussi un peintre, une danseuse, une chanteuse, ou peut-etre une musicienne.