"I feel sad," I was saying as we walked back to the dorm to get my luggage.
He turned around to look at me and fell into step with me.
"Why?" he asked, "because you're leaving me behind?"
I laughed because that was so not the reason.
The cold wind blew, dust got into my eyes and my eyes started watering.
I sniffled, kinda a common side effect from the cold wind.
"You're crying?!" he asked.
I protested, "Noooo!"
"Awwwhhhh, don't be sad, we'll still keep in contact, there's still the internet!", he added, patting me on the shoulder.
He went on longer about facebook and skype but I wasn't listening.
I was thinking about how it was the last time I was gonna walk down the hill to the dorm.
>12:47 AM
Saying goodbye to N e i l l.
The French use "au revoir" in place of "goodbye" and I think it's terribly optimistic of them since it means till we meet again. But in this case, I think, goodbye is more suitable since we're very likely never going to meet again. But I know I have a tour guide in Ireland should I ever want to visit. (:
I'm trying to get used to it, but I still find the cheek kiss thing weird.
Okay.
I'll tell you how it works, first you shake the hand, and then kiss the left cheek and then the right. Or if you're good friends, substitue the hand-shaking with a hug.
Gosh, it sounds so . . . weird to write it down. And.. of course, a tiny bit of a culture shock to me since it's general knowledge that . I . hate . people . touching me. Hahahhahaha. and europeans are the complete opposite of me.
But still. I think I made good friends here. and this has been a beautiful experience that honestly, I may never forget.
Crap, I hate saying goodbye.
and even worse, I hate packing.
>2:48 AM
I wish I could discover Europe with Ain.
Somehow, I think she will love the walks.
We walked for about 10 hours on Day 1 and 6 - 7 hours on Day 2.
Saw many beautiful things but unfortunately, being the typical Singaporean that I am, I felt that it wasn't complete without shopping.
I mean, c'mon. B c n is the home of m n g and I didn't even get to go in.
That aside, there was one sonuva B tourist who I think hated my face.
I wanted to take a photo with the vitrines and as usual, I got quite freaking irritated because all the photos with me in it look like shit because nobody seems to know how to use my camera.
But anyway, I was teaching Sarah how to use it when the asshole shoved me roughly away. There weren't that many people around that particular area, I think he was just rude.
He shoved me away from my back, and being typically sgpn, I wanted to TSK. Then I saw his babi face, not apologetic at all.
He shoved me away ROUGHLY because I was in the way of his camera?! When he could have moved one step to the left and have a perfect view.
I turned around and yelled at him "You could have said excuse me!"
10 seconds later, I got my photo and forgot about his babi face.
I was discussing with the rest about the pros and cons of climbing 10 storeys worth of stairs when I felt somebody shove me away again, ROUGHLY .
I turned around and saw his the back of his babi face retreating.
I was shocked because there was a lot of space but being the babi he is, I think he may have needed the space required for 5 people to walk.
No. No excuse mes, no pardons, no taps on the shoulders, not even a "TSK".
SHOVE.
Imagine being pushed around in the train? Only with 10 times more force that gives you a choice of either taking a few steps or falling on your face.
And yeah, imagine an empty sidewalk and standing off to one side of it?
You're already at the side, remember, but someone walks past and shoves you away as if you're in his way.
Babi. It's not even his country. He has as much right to be there as I do.
GO TO HELL ASSHOLE.
The 2 women with him turned back and looked apologetic.
But seriously.
I have great chinese (nationality) friends back home but the ULTIMATE WORST people I've ever had the misfortune to come across in my 17 days abroad are the chinese (nationality).
F u c k i n g RUDE.
They should stop producing more insolence.
Ban fucking or whatever, just really, I don't think I like them at all now.
In fact, it's bordering on genocidal rage.
I'm hoping I don't have another encounter in Paris.
Or else, God help my corrupted, murderous soul.
OH YEAH. Did I meantion?
This rudeness thing??
Freaking happened in a church. (:
Perfect setting, now, isn't it.
>6:25 AM
My aunt asked me a few days back if I feel homesick.
I'd say yes, but truthfully, no.
If skype didn't exist, or if there was no internet here, then, I'd probably cry myself to sleep everyday.
Thank god humans had the foresight for innovation.
I only miss food at home, though.
I'm extremely happy that there's a whole halal section in the supermarket that allows you to buy meat without worry. There are also more than a dozen kebab shops in town.
But I still miss rice and the gramma's cooking.
It's already been 11 days and honestly, I feel like I could survive here, should I need to stay longer. That's to say, that things have begun to follow a pattern and of course, patterns breed familiarity and so on.
I relish my independence here, I love doing things I want to do, and not having any consequences. I love walking in town and getting lost and absorbing the sights and sounds and then finding my way without a map but with help from the locals.
I love how everybody says bonjour to you with a smile, even total strangers.
I love how people randomly ask questions.
I love how kind and patient everyone is.
The few hours in paris made me feel like an alien, but here, I feel accepted, without questions, and treated just as everybody is.
People give puzzled glances, trying to figure out my ressortissant, my country of origin.. and the more curious ones will stop me in the streets to ask.
But they're always polite and surprised and generous in their kindness.
I know how they do it.
I know why the French, unlike Singaporeans (myself included) don't feel threatened by immigrants.
Because they bloody well speak french. And honestly, they are maybe not so kind to you if you don't. Hell, I wouldn't know, I never tried to talk to them in English.
I think they have an open policy. And a strong pride of their country.
That's to say, if you want to live here, you will follow our culture and speak our language.
If only immigrants in Singapore bother to assimilate themselves, perhaps, then, we'll be more accepting of them.
>7:55 PM
In the name of desperation . and un petit peu of adventure, I tried out roquette salad leafs for dinner.
It was written on the back of the packet that it has a pepperish taste.
Well, they're right.
Imagine eating wasabi and the pain you get in the nose or in your head?
That's how "pepperish" it is.
And it smells absolutely pungent.
Like, fart.
I thought I could grow to like it, so I sprinkled a few leafs in my mélange of lettuce leaves and all but 2 roquette leaves later, I felt like vomiting all out.
It was gross, to say the least.
And now I have to throw out the whole pack. DAMN IT!
I think the whole episode may make me abstain from salad these few days.
>12:43 AM
"Vous venez de quel pays?" he asked. I caught a whiff of the sour smell of cider on him.
"Singapour," I replied.
"Eh?" he cocked his head in a question. "Vich contry you from?" he asked again.
I eyed his long messy grey hair and unkempt appearance with barely concealed distaste.
"Singapore!" I replied loudly, with a forced smile on my face.
"Ah! Singapur!" I am from Turkey! I am communist! Vive la revolution!" he said with zeal.
I took a step backwards. He did not notice my confusion or my awkwardness; so passionate was he about his socialism preach. I began to wonder if he actually thought Singapore was communist and that me being a Singaporean might make me.. a brother-in-arms of sorts. I blanked out for a few moments, and by the time my attention snapped back to his tirade, he'd already changed topic.
"... I am ANTI-AMERICA!" he almost shouted. I was thinking, 'omg, lunatic!'
He gestured to the plastic cup of coke in my hand, and said, "Me? NO COCA-COLA! Cocacola? NO! NEVER! I am anti america!"
I was stumped speechless. I stammered a response and with a wry smile, I said,
"Ah oui? C'est intéressant." (Really? That's interesting.)
I managed to escape eventually and found myself sitting at a table with a Turkish, a Spanish, an American, an English and an Italian. This sounds like the beginnning of a bad joke, no?
But these very people somehow became my friends.
Maybe. Alright, maybe, more like acquaintances.
Ah bien, on va voir.
Oh well, we shall see.
>1:07 AM
I would talk about my harrowing experience at O r l y airport but it might mean re-living the nightmare. So I shall just let the customs check remain an unappreciated memory at the back of my cortex. I checked myself in at the self-service counter and randomly joined the queue for hall 4. About an hour and a half later, I realised that there were 4 different queues for 4 different flights and by god, I had no idea if it was the right queue!
I asked a nice, prettily fierce shakira lookalike (she's really spanish!) to guard my belongings while I checked. (my aunt would probably scream at me for this but you must understand that after hours of queueing behind the woman, we felt like best friends) She even helped to push my trolley up several metres while I asked the errant airport guides for direction.
And just when I approached the guy, a red-faced man cut in front of me and started yelling about inefficiency (which I totally agree with) and the lack of a proper system. He was promptly joined by a chorus of other voices and for about 5 minutes, caught in the middle, I was worried that I might, in fact, be experiencing a french revolt with me right in the heart of it.
The guide managed to get them to calm down eventually. And I managed to ask him and honestly, I felt a huge sense of relief when he told me my random queueing was indeed the right line.. and then, I turned and saw, at the counters, about 20 metres away from where I was in the queue, there was a sign "For passengers with boarding pass only".
aaaaand. I didn't have one. I decided to stick to my gut instincts and pretend I don't understand if need be.
Fortunately, everything was well and good in the end. I reached my room at 20:00 sgp time. That made it, approximately, 20 hours of travelling time.
Contrary to popular belief, the first thing I did when I reached my room was not to sleep the sun away. At the risk of sounding like an obsessed cleanaholic, I shall confess that I took out my handydandy packet of wetwipes, got on my knees and wiped the whole floor.
And when that was done, I wiped all the shelves of the cupboard before I unpacked.
It was many hours later before hit the bed for the first time in 30 hours.
Très, très, très fatiguant.
And I have no idea how people get away with not speaking any French!
And on a totally random note, I think I have the slightest crush on the receptionist at the residence office.
Hahah! My type, a i n !
Although, surprisingly, a lot of French guys are bald, no matter their skin colour, or their age!
>9:31 PM
I will be walking these streets on Sunday.
I've had a bunch of people ask me ,"are you excited?"
Truthfully, would you be?
For many years, the first of my theoretical three wishes had been to go to France.
Now that I'm getting it fulfilled, I have no idea what to substitute it with!
Also, nobody ever mentioned that living your dreams is terrifying. I thought I'd be all excited and nothing else, but right now... it's 90% fear and 10% excitement.
There! I've said it!
I admit it, I'm freaking terrified.
Also, on a not so random note.
I just found out from HN that he will be in Paris for the three days I'm there!
Weird, and potentially awkward but you take whatever coincidence throws in your face, no?
>2:42 PM