The odd realisation that I have been here in London for 98 days. I have really found a home in this place. Spent today spoiling myself - cooked myself dinner, took a walk, went to paperchase, drank chai tea, watched films and lazed at home. My room is still the same disaster I had committed myself to clearing 3 weeks ago. The year is coming to an end, and there is so much I feel like doing. But alas, we still have the placebo analgesia essay that would terrorise my Edinburgh trip after new year if I don't get it started.
But wow. I've been here for 98 days. It doesn't quite feel like it. I keep finding myself drawing parallels between being here and my internship in the States. Of course, I have changed very much as a person since. And well... nostalgia led me to an old entry written a mere 52 days into the internship last year:
I can't believe I am not even half-way through. 67 days. Holy balooney. I was thinking everything through and I guess I started on the wrong foot. I signed up all excited, I still remember the day I submitted the form, I was busy with Ambs stuff the whole day (and month of the application period) that it totally slipped me until 5 minutes before the deadline - it was so rushed, I submitted it a few hours past the deadline and was deeply bothered by the doom that'd befall - that they will tell me that my application thus cannot be considered and the sole thing that I looked forward to since Year 1 will be denied. And then it reached a point where it seemed I can choose where I wanted to go. The dilemma between UK and US, some texts shuttling back and forth between friends, a few phone calls to mom to discuss the matter. And then I decided against my better judgement - US... for the sake of my portfolio. Now, it doesn't really matter whether it is UK or US, I guess. When the confirmation came, it was greeted only with utter dread, and I continued in all forms of denial (beyond my online world) - refusal to talk about it, pretending it wasn't going to happen, refusing to address the emails immediately leading to visa delays. Whirring, smoking, floating.
And I guess, at the point when I got on the plane, the denial caved it - there was no more sustenance for it at least. Even then I refused to think, I refused to do anything. I made a few calls before the plane took off, fingers were too slow to reply all the sweet messages everyone was sending me, and the moment I had to turn off my phone (Sar in her tears urged me to, "Siao uh woman, turn off your phone! Don't interfere with the electronic stuff") - I stopped myself from all form of thought and drowned myself in Haruki Murakami's "The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle" and pretended I was on a train ride... to school, or to Dhoby Ghaut, or something.
I don't know. Maybe I need a hug.
Come to think of it, it has been 52 days since I got a hug/hugged someone. Goodness. I used to hug people every single day. I think this hug deprivation manifested into... this. I didn't even hug everyone at the airport as much as I wanted to - I know if I got the chance to, I'd miss my flight while hugging.
I think this place is beautiful, a sanctuary harboring a sort of freedom that even tourists will never fully experience, and this place has such great potential of being a home to me. But you see, I am now more than just certain that home is defined by the people.
Aye. Okay I've concluded that I am not home-sick. Nor am I exactly unhappy here. IT IS THE CONSEQUENCE OF HUG DEPRIVATION, yes, thats it.
Anyway, today Boss drove us home. And his car was... epicly rammed by a deer that randomly invaded the roads yesterday. It was so darn epic. He can't even open the door to the driver's seat, having to climb and make his way to his seat from the door on the other side. On a not-that-amusing side, there was deer blood on his car. :/ So scary. And of course, on our way leaving the campus, we saw free-ranging deers at our gates, like 2 families of them or something. It's like I work in a safari or something. WHY DIDN'T I BRING MY CAMERA TODAY?!
HAHA. Mildly amused by my 2010 self, hohum. Happy boxing day, my friends.
The Belgium-France trip was (Y). Of course, it was not without its share of hiccups. From first missing our train from London to Brussels, to finding I did not bring my camera battery and was hence reduced to daytime photography with my analog LC-A. And then to being stuck in that terribly inconvenient strike in Brussels (major enough to make news throughout Europe since virtually all connecting transits were cancelled between cities), to the Christmas closures of Paris. Nonetheless magical moments snuggled in and made their place in the trip seamlessly.
I had always aimed to give comprehensive travel-photologues but undeniably also always fail, given my post-trip fatigue and then the post-post-trip dip of intensity... so I shan't be ambitious this time around.
Still, having listed the hiccups, I must not neglect the splendid. That quaint stroll in Bruges, the many Christmas markets we chanced upon, the hot chocolate, the pralines, the Belgian waffles from Haagen Daaz with Strawberry Cheesecake icecream (so, so good, even in the 6 deg C cold), the epic white wine + cream + garlic mussels (to die for).
Then in Paris, bobbing along crowds of dodgy people in dodgy areas and then letting ourselves be pleasantly surprised by the beauty of Paris beyond all that needing to be on high alert.
I tend to be quite a cynic when it comes to tourist traps. I avoid and dismiss them often quite flippantly; so imagine the delight when we found ourselves atop the Eiffel tower braving the winds and cold, in love with the city of lights. That was a powerful moment. We were like kids all over again. Given my frame, I was no match for the wind. I could barely stand without being carried by the wind to skid across the top of the Eiffel, and yet we went for that "ride" several times over - riding with the wind with other tourists and children, then slapping ourselves against the wind - over and over - windsurfing on the platform atop Paris' Eiffel. It was amazing how many others joined us in that fun, as the whole of the night-time Paris lay beneath our feet - it was so brilliant.
The next day we spent our time in Chateau de Versailles, immersed in the gardens as if enveloped by a surrealist painting overlaying the world of Alice in the Wonderland. We ended up too late to visit the estate of Marie Antoinette, but that left us with a beautiful stroll through the gardens in the sunset.
We later returned to Paris and headed to the Notre Dame Cathedral, hoping to attend the midnight mass but realised only belatedly that it was not possible because we would then have no trains to take us back. We nonetheless gave it a go, with the company of hoards of others amidst the choir of the gothic cathedral once the largest in France. It was an incredibly atmospheric Christmas Eve we had - with the great company of my travelmates (:
Last but not least... Being in Paris, Gwen and I also could not resist Pierre Herme's macarons. It is a classic not to be missed. We spazzed when we bought the macarons, and spazzed while savoring the macarons (carefully rationed to last us those few days). I have such an irrational love for macarons. And because I've never been known to be quite the conventional one, the macaron flavors I picked were rightfully adventurous. We were, after all, at the place of the inventive Pierre Herme! Other than the classic chocolate, rose, and cassis, I also got:
Truffe Blanche & Noisette (White Truffle and Hazelnut - yes, the truffle mushroom!)
Chocolate and Foie Gras
Tempo (Red Chilli peppers, raspberry and lime - yes. I know)
Mahogany (Salted caramel, mango and coconut)
Mogador (Chocolate & Passion fruit)
Oh such blissful decadence. My favorites were the white truffle + hazelnut, chocolate + foie gras and chocolate + passionfruit - definitely hitting the London boutique for them the next time I decide to spoil myself! / End spaz
MOTIVAYSHUNNNN - never thought you'd be in sight with the madness of the upcoming week and especially with last week being so awfully bleak. But hey, it's pretty darn awesome to see you again.
It's 3am. There's a Christmassy wear-anything-but-clothes party going on in the common room and seriously the music they are playing is actually awesome enough for me to feel, for one too many split seconds, like going down to join the fun. I don't even know what's stopping me. Oh, right. Had I just a dash of impulsiveness in excess, you know where I'd be.
There are so many things I want to do. And also so much to say and spill and sift and shift. We'll leave that to after next week.
Oh, and All + None - a repository for my geeky side. I'll spare you here.
This is now all very sobering. What used to be "bad timing, coinciding with work" has progessed / regressed / whatever really to "oh great timing, thank goodness there is work (to divert attention to)". Something has to be done about my priorities. You and you and you and you, be here now. Fly. Let's go have coffee, or go tear through the streets with raging shopaholicitis or talk-instead-of-sleep-over or pretend we can cook, something, anything. Always infinitely better than turning to work. Through this all I still stand I am not homesick. Have my word the agony of homesickness cuts much too poignantly to not know if it should decide to come knocking again - it hasn't.
Life is not as bleak as I may make seem. I'd swear on it. But yes.
Also need to quell that cynic in me. Someone bring the chains, it's a mammoth.
Tonight I shall sleep in. Past the Saturday morning sun and be enveloped in my fleece throw some hours longer, just because. Sleep always makes things better. Or I can really use a hug.
