Finally.

I got down to finish all these, and could venture on to other more recent sights and sensory experiences.

Reliving memories the way they were somehow feel… strange. Emotions you blocked out, like the ability to smile at memories given to you by many others whom you no longer have in your life, and frowning when you feel disappointment again as if it was then all over again, all these reminded your capability of feeling… somehow, after not being able to do so for a long, long while.

I don’t know why it is such a relief.

And then, these will be overtaken by the new memories, brought forth by new people, hopefully.

***

Upon touching down in London, we drew in a deep breath of the freezing air as we strutted into the dark openness as the automated doors drew open. The cab driver passed us some pillows and water, trying to get us comfortable for the long ride back to South Kensington.

It was early evening, but the quietness of the night made it seem much more serene, as if it was already much later.

What followed was a very, very sweet ride back, with fingers entwined, hair stroke, and endless conversations that peppered the journey back. Of places we visit, of tease, of banters, of the past, of times we used to share. I remember feeling relaxed, no longer tense. And then, there was the surfacing of the giggles which were seen just few months prior to this, but just not with him.

It was cold, and I was grabbed over. If it was the note to end things on, it certainly was then.

I remember when we were reaching London, many of the roads were closed and what would have taken us much lesser time to get back were delayed by detours and U-turns.

Hadn’t it wasted enough of our time?

We chilled indoors with Lynette and Brendan over, and Aunty Dorene cooking dinner for us. I had my head bowed constantly over my notebook to feed my internet withdrawal.

We spoke about work, we spoke about different things. Brendan bade us goodnight and what was left was a heavy conversation which I matter-of-factly told the ladies how I don’t want this anymore, not with spite, but because I do not believe in what they want me to believe in.

They questioned him, I told them I was just tired, cos it seemed like he just wanna string me along, refuse to let me go, and yet refuse to come clean. They questioned him, and I laughed concedingly that he would never dare to come clean for he would think that is the way to fool everyone.

Lynette asked, “Do you think he is really truly that deceitful a person?”

I looked her in the eyes and said with absolute confidence, perhaps taken her by surprise, “Yes, but he won’t admit to you guys. And okay, I give up. I really do. I just don’t understand why everyone is still trying to convince me to believe him, when he is obviously just good at covering up. These chances given to him again and again to come clean… and everyone thinks I am being paranoid. Trust me, he is still that liar he refuses to see himself for.”

Of course, they spoke up for him, and for me, I threw my arms up in surrender and then told them, I know you guys will once again write me off as irrational, but just take it that my choice is I don’t want this, but can he accept my choice?

I walked away from the conversation and I strangely didn’t feel anything too extreme, haven’t it been something I tried to get them to see but they refused to? Haven’t I been doing the same thing to myself too?

He didn’t accept my choice as he came towards me with the softer approach, the trick is, if the aggressive way doesn’t work, the lethal sweet-nothings, hugs, kisses, and fake promises, tears and beggings would somehow do.

If those don’t work, leaping over the parapet from 20th floor might work very well, and would guarantee you to get your way.

Well, that’s the aim of the game for them. To get their ways eventually. By hook, by crook. You see, when you fucked up, always get someone else to bear the consequences for you, that’s the easiest way, isn’t it? Hurhurhur.

That was the night when my emotions were stirred the most. Because some things, can really be too late and turn you cold. And then, you just play along, like how everyone expects you to, and you bid your time.

I don’t expect any of you to understand, of course. Especially not with how things are now.

Back in London, and chilled indoors with a fabulous home-cooked dinner with Lynette and Brendan.

It was a serious talk that I stand firm of what I do not want.

It was late when they finally left, and the thoughts that followed…

The next morning was one that greeted us chirpily as the sun continued to shine.

Aunty Dorene was delivered a spare car to drive as she got into an accident while we were away in Rome. It was a convertible of newer model, and cooler features. Sometimes, we really allow the technology to get too far ahead of us, that we didn’t even know how to start the car.

I just love the random streets of houses, with colours of spring framing the picture.

We went to High street Kensington, spent some time at Zara, and the usual brands, and since I had my field day at Bicester, I was too broke there was hardly any reason for me to shop anymore.

We walked around the neighbourhood and visited Aunty Dorene’s office, watched kids running around, stopped by quaint, little churches, and headed to Four Season’s to eat roasted duck for lunch. It was really, really, really, nice. Nicer than any duck locally!

We dropped by Selfridges again for me to get the VAT slip processed, shopped around a little, before we went back to freshen up a little and headed out for the evening.

Since there was a bit of time, we took the tube and stopped by Westminster Bridge, feasted on the charming view of London with a brownish hue. Absolutely, absolutely, lovely.

The familiarity of taking pictures across the junction to capture the Big Ben, which celebrates its 150th anniversary this year.

I need to dig up all those old pictures… hidden away somewhere.

I wasn’t sure if the half-heartedness to walk round Westminster Abbey was because everything kinda paled in comparison upon returning from Rome.

I used to study the tombs in the Abbey, often having this morbid fascination of the stories behind.

It was the day when Parliament was held, thus there were plenty of police, and big shots finely dressed queuing up to get in.

We followed the map and walked towards Trafalgar Square. I remember the moment in 1999 June, the day after I watched Jacky Cheung at Wembley, I stayed out till dawn before heading back to Croydon to get my luggage to head home.

The cab I shared with Howe Szuan had me sitting on the left, and I teared as it circled Trafalgar Square, with the pigeons flocking to it, as the morning light shone on them.

It was an impressionable goodbye.

This time, the fountains were under construction, and they weren’t alive. Nelson’s column still stood stoicly, and Admiralty arch still see endless cars holing through it everyday.

And the fabulous, fabulous National Gallery which watches over it, had me poring over much of the exhibits, and was the usual weekend hangout place for me and my ex-housemate.

The graffitis drawn by artists on the floor were impressive.

As we were flanked by the buildings as we turned out of Trafalgar, the streets were litted purple by the setting sun, and it was just a very tamed evening.

It was cold too. The coldest day since we got there.

We turned and reached Haymarket early to collect the stall tickets from Her Majesty’s Theatre, before succumbing to the temptation of the warm and cosy Empire Casino nearby cos it was simply too cold.

I used to sit out in the open to have an ice-cream at Rendevous cafe, and was surprised that it was still there, at that corner.

He suggested we sit down to have portrait drawn, but then I didn’t think we could sit still in the cold for that long.

So, Casino was the choice to go. It was almost 7.15pm when we walked back to Haymarket, and deposited everything at the cloak room.

A cool car which got us around. A trip to Selfridges, and walking around the neighbourhood to high street shopping area. The cute doggie at the office. Revisiting the familiar places which past pictures are long lost.

Love Westminster bridge, and the sight.. gee. Unfortunately everything pales in comparison upon returning from Rome.

Walked down from Westminster Bridge, past Big Ben, Westminster Abbey (I remember I used to study the tombs but this time parliament was held) down Trafalgar Square, fountains were closed. National gallery, my ex-housemate and I used to visit with a fabulous collection of art and all.

Drawings on the floor.

Walked down the charming streets backlitted purple by the evening sun. It was coldest day.

Trafalgar. Nelson’s column. Admiralty arch.

Reached Leicester early before the show at Her Majesty’s Theatre, and Casino made us poorer. Ate at casino, maybe jinxed.

The theatre didn’t seem big, but it was surprising the special effects they were capable of doing with the space, and the depth of it was magnificent. Took pictures in the theatre, with velvety scarlet curtains framing the 110 year-old building, though it has been a theatre site since 1700s. Pai kia is me, since phototaking was… strictly sneaky.

Many of the people spoke about how they had watched it for countless time, and it was only my virgin trip.

As the show started, we had a mega surprise when the Chandelier went up just above our head, and of course, how it came crashing down to signify the interval. Such proximity and all, and all the technicalities behind must be some kind of science.

I sang along to most of the song, and imagined myself to be Christine (okay shuddap! I don’t care what you think) like how an ex-classmate of mine and I used to do the “Ahhhhhh.. Ahhh..” to the end of the song in class.

“In sleep he sang to me… In dreams he came..”

The act put together was seamless. The Phantom was fabulous and I could see his snorts dripping, reflected off the stage lights. And his tears flowed freely and his anguished could be almost felt. He was deservingly showered with applause and standing O with wolf whistles at the end of it. I always sympathised with the Phantom, for he was… so alone. In a way, MJ reminded me of him too.

2 years ago, someone left a comment to tell me how great Melbourne’s Anthony Warlow was, and that he was one of the best Phantoms. Alas, he had retired in May from his masked days and I might never get to watch him. Someday, I would love to watch the other Phantoms singing their hearts out too.

But the one who struck me the most was Madam Giry played by Heather Jackson. She was.. just so captivatingly beautiful. Her poise, her voice, her looks. Gee.

During the interval, I was sprung a surprise of a mug to be used in the office. It had meant something for me back then.

We snuck out wearing bare minimal into the awful cold for a fag break, before returning for 2nd half of the show.

Post show, it was back to the evil Empire Casino since the rest were not out for the night, where we ate a burger. But I guess eating in the casino somehow jinxed the luck and we were in the red by the end of the night.

The surprise I spoke of back then. It had meant something back then.

Chandelier right above our head. Phantom of the Opera, with a fabulous Phantom. I could see his snorts dripping and tears flowing, and as they fell to the stage, you could see the stage lights reflecting off them, and it is no wonder he got the loudest applause and standing O at the end of the show.

“In sleep he sang to me.. in dreams he came..”

2 years ago, a reader left a comment of how Melbourne’s Anthony Warlow is one of the best Phantoms, and though I would love to see him, he has recently retired from his masked days. I will want to watch other Phantoms too.

The last full day we had with London was spent heading to Notting Hill, where we had brunch with the ladies at this chichi restaurant which was filled to the brim.

We walked down to Portobello market nearby.

Portobello market is filled with vintage treasures, spans across couple of streets.

It was busy, and had lotsa quaint stuff on sale.

The shop houses that backed up the roadside stores have the most dainty window display. Everything was so vibrant and pretty. It just cheers you up, like that.

Brendan joined us in the late afternoon, and we cruised around, and made our way to Richmond, where we watched the antelopes and deers roaming freely in the park. It was just so… nice and liberating.

I was screaming to be let down so I can pee cos I couldn’t see any loo in the vast space.

We then went to the town to stop by the roadside and see the other side of River Thames. Very beautiful.

We stopped by Cha Cha Moon for dinner, and we scooted off to run around the neighbourhood to print instant pictures, buy a thank-you card, and exercised some quick-thinking creativity.

It was late, and we managed to watch Duplicity though I had wanted to catch 2 Lovers. But Duplicity was one clever, funny movie that I smirked from start to the end.

It was a fabulous movie, which I think everyone should watch. Of course, I need to say Julia Roberts parked her bike at where we stopped ours.

Wanted to extend the night further but YL was already drunk by the time we dialled him. So it was a night of chilling over tea, and plenty of packing, sneaking in some time to prepare the thank-you gift which we presented to Aunty Dorene just before she slept.

Portobello market. Pretty colours. Quaint. Lunch at chi chi place. Shop. Dinner with Brendan. Watched Duplicity. YL was drunk when I dialled him.

The gift we put together as we bade London and South Kensington goodbye. We ran, we cut, we hid, we plotted, a nice surprise that kept Aunty Dorene smiling.

She lined her fireplace with all the pictures.

It was the last day as I tried to blog my last post from London, I heard Bittersweet Symphony on the radio. It was the only day we listened to the radio, and the coincidence was marvelous. Nostalgia, painfully thick.

As we got to the airport, the line to the VAT rebate was so long that by the time we got the rebate, we board the plane just 5 minutes before takeoff.

Didn’t even realise we were on the Airbus 380. Despite the very low flight fare, it was a pleasant surprise when it was the comfortable airbus, and we had an additional seat shared amongst us for me to lie on his lap across the seats.

Unfortunately my KrisWorld was fucked, and luckily I could shift my seat or else I would be forced to watch the system rebooting itself over and over again for the entire flight.

Took off my leggings straight away and I sealed the biohazard before I knocked everyone out with the distinctive smell.

Touched down in Singapore, and everything was in place, and ready.

Airbus 380! Plenty of room as we got all seats to ourselves.

I do not know what to make of this, but the memories finally are churned out, bit by bit. Some were nice, but faked, but then what I felt back then towards the people, were real. Some are more obvious as you thought they are, but there are a lot more whom you probably never knew exist or how they meant to me, because… time went by, and people had moved on.

Nonetheless, the experience, or just what each sight and sound meant to me personally, don’t get tainted just like this.

Bittersweet.

With some, you might have missed, since you guys probably see the obvious and missed out the hidden.

To all, thanks for the memories.

I always like traveling for the people I meet, the places I see, the sensory experiences, the stories I imagine, and how just a simple conversation with anyone could be so enriching.

The Brit I met on board and I spoke about Hamsphire, and how he knew Croydon very well cos both towns are of proximity. He had quit his project managing job to go around the world in 17 months, and he was already into his 4th month of wandering. He would be flying home in couple of weeks’ time to chill for 2 weeks, before flying off again to where he left off, and continued on with his journey.

I marveled and display envy openly.

That’s what some of them worked hard for.

It costs him 20, 000 pounds, and of cos, another 10, 000 for emergency backup.

Then, there was the Finnish who gets discounted tickets since he worked for the airline, and he spoke of the places he had been to, and how Vietnam had changed drastically in the past 15 years.

The Australian teacher who just got back from Sa Pa, spoke of her grown daughters.

The Danish family with 3 confident, young boys, who introduced themselves and gave us firm handshakes when they joined us onboard in the middle of the sea, somewhere, out there. They were well-mannered, and really sweet boys, and they enjoyed themselves by jumping into the jellyfish-infested sea from the roof of the junk. And then I thought of the conservative, sheltered way Asians bring their kids up.

The Chinese couple who were on business trip and gave us a chance to hone our mother tongue.

The Vietnamese guide who mistook us as cough, fashion models (cough blind cough), and shared his personal stash of green tea with us, and chatted to us aplenty, giving us backgrounds to his cultures and all.

We spoke of different things, different cultures, had meals together, and it was nice.

I learnt things I never did know, and my narrow horizon just broaden, somehow.

I dealt with the hottest weather I ever encountered in my life (okay, I remember the Australia heat some 16 years ago, but it wasn’t humid like that of Hanoi’s).

I felt so small in the big, big, world out there. I might never have the time, money and chance to see everything, or be everything, and the impulsion of letting my instinct guide me along, is becoming stronger.

Reading NatGeo isn’t helping much either.

Round the world ticket is cheap leh!

***

I am glad to announce I have put on weight from recent days of good food and a growing appetite.

I chomped on a burger, followed by a huge scone during a 3 and half hour meeting with my boss yesterday, and he gave the strangest laugh as he looked on to me munching non-stop.

I just had a set lunch after having an ultrasound done, but am now craving for scones again.

Bah. I missed a session today.

***

Seen and heard:

- It was Changi Airport on a Tuesday morning, when I was queuing up to enter the gate, scanning the load of stuff I bringing on board. My colleague let me go before him and then just as I was about to step forward to place my bag onto the strap, this man hopped right before me and placed his stuff onto the moving belt. As usual, I just stared blankly in shock. Tsk! The audacity! My colleague loudly said to me, “Eh, don’t jump queue can or not?“, which I suppose was said to me but subtlely aimed at the guy before me. Of course the chap was too deaf to hear any of such, or maybe he just didn’t understand English. Just as I was moving forward after he was done, a flood of people from the back suddenly stepped before me and followed what the chap did.

I widened my eyes in mocked horror, and looked on to the aggression helplessly, before the immigration officer saw the wooden statue of horrified Ting, stepped in and asked all of them to queue up.

I had to be careful not to be jousted as I made my way into the flight.

- The flight was taxiing when the lady beside my colleague took out her phone and started chatting. Stunned, she asked the lady to switch it off, and with some help from the younger lady in front of them, and some gesturing, the lady begrudgingly kept her phone.

Just when the plane was revving its engine, ready for take off… *RING RING* and the lady’s phone rang.

My colleague, understandably panicky from the horror stories/myths of aviation, and some other passengers had to intervene to get the very annoyed lady to switch off her phone.

- To anyone wanting to travel to Vietnam, please note that some of their old notes are already not in use anymore. Beware of cab drivers who insist on you to use 100, 000 dong note, so they could give you change. We learnt it the hard way after being given some of these old notes as change. So yeah, we got conned.

- On the return flight, when everyone was strapped to his seat, and the plane was picking up speed for ascend, this lady in her 50s, suddenly stood up and started walking up and down the aisle. The air steward flustered and raised his voice for her to sit down, an advice she failed to heed. So he had to quickly unstrapped himself and rushed to her to  get her to sit down and wear her seat belt. After he had returned to his station, and the plane was just taking off, her younger companion from another aisle turned to watch out for the steward before unbuckling herself and moved across the aisle to a couple of rows behind to change seats.

- I held my breath on the plane when one of the passengers started coughing relentlessly.

I think I am start to brew a cough……..

- Vietnamese women are gorgeous, sweet, demure, and have the greatest smiles. Vietnamese are mostly very humble. The service staff do not speak good English, but just be a little patient and you can see the amount of effort they put in. They are really a sweet bunch. I think the staff at the Ritz Hotel(hohoho!) really left a fabulous, fabulous impression.

- Because of a last minute change, the whole bunch of us had dinner at Bobby Chinn’s, which I thought I wouldn’t have the chance to check out this trip. Thanks Irene for the heads up and brilliant recommendation(though it was my boss’ idea for the last minute change of venue)!

I so wanna marry a half-Chinese, half Egyptian now. So hot lah, with the distinctive widow’s peak…

And yes, the highlight wasn’t the food, but because coincidentally,  Bobby “the man” Chinn was in the restaurant and he came by to the table to say hi.

So hot lah. Giggles. He just returned to Vietnam after popping by Singapore, he said.

Then I saw him on the magazine yesterday, attending LV launch. Speak about coincidence.

***

Over dim sum supper last night, I was told my shift to my new domain hasn’t been all that smooth, apparently due to the 10MB of database of text (pictures not inclusive at the moment) accumulated over the years.

Woops.

Upon visual inspection, I was told I probably don’t need a boob job, before I cautioned him not to be fooled by the hormones and fillets.

Honestly, I am apprehensive, and I ain’t sure. I have people who egged me on, and some (normally those who don’t understand the woes of the small nehs haha) objected to it.

But then a part of me just want to do it so that I don’t look back and think about how I should have done it but I didn’t, and what it would have been if I did.

Somemore not say I got budget, but then got instalment plans and subsidies lah.

Okay, so tomorrow if I have bigger nehs, you will hear about it!

Day 1 in the city of peace, and the roads are anything but peaceful.

The rain in Hanoi finally stopped to welcome us with plenty of sunshine, and the evening is cool with strong breeze.

Watched part of Duplicity again and it reminded of the time we watched it 4 months ago and what a hilarious irony it is.

Had wanted to catch 2 Lovers (cos it reminded me of Sliding Doors, one of my all-time fave) back then at the cinema but they didn’t have the slots, and thus I settled for Duplicity, but it was such heaviness watching 2 Lovers (I didn’t expect the dark element in the movie) that I had to watch Bride Wars to level out the heaviness.

A couple of other great shows on KrisWorld and Gran Torino is one of those I would wanna catch.

The room has a fantastic view which I am just chilling and watching into the vast lake, and talking to my colleagues by calling out across the balconies even though they are one floor above, with the breeze teasing my hair.

This is exactly the view from my room.

The night is so peaceful, so beautiful, and the moon is so bright tonight.

The free and easy day had us scrambling through the busy streets of Hanoi, shrilling as we tried to cross the road. The key is, close your eyes, and walk across without looking at oncoming traffic.

Pretty tiring day with all the walking, an am just alone in the hotel room, since my roommate, whom I had only met once and  never spoken to, is on a different schedule from me, and probably won’t be back early.

Strangely, Hanoi reminds me of Russia.

And I am actually starting to get a bout of homesickness, and it is only day 1!

Will upload the pictures (very subdued this time cos mostly colleagues and plenty of walking… and not much sight) when I get the chance to, which probably mean quite soon since the schedule isn’t very packed.

Meanwhile, I shall catch up with my daily news and email clearing.

I don’t like packing.

There’s just something about it that seals my comfort zone with it.

I don’t sleep well before flights. I am not sure if it is anxiety, or just plain excitement that got in the way.

Thus here I am, in a scurry to conclude (or rather.. crawl towards concluding) the series of memories-recapping, as I probably have much to blog about in the coming week.

And what’s more, probably at a new location too.

***

It was supposed to be the day of Florence.

Just the day when we first reached Rome, I had mentioned about Pompeii being one of the places I have always wanted to go, cos I am just so intrigued by what I had read about it since years ago, but I had no freaking idea where it is.

A quick browse on the pamphlet lying in the hotel lobby made me discover that it was a possible destination, with a day tour to Naples (Napoli), routing to Pompeii.

A nice place, or somewhere I have been wanting to go for the longest time?

The dream in the dreamer took over, and a trip was quickly booked via the hotel, and had us set off at 6.15am in the morning.

It was a freezing morning, and I remember having a hot cup of tea, sitting on the metal chairs outside the cafe watching Rome coming to life as dawn’s curtains were drawn.

I kept pushing out my breaths and watch the mini clouds formed, wrapping my icy hands round the paper cup.

What begun was a 3 hours-drive to Naples, and we saw the scenery took on a transformation.. from a city of pure, genius art, to nature’s art.

The countryside with occasion sights of old castles rich in history and speak fascinating stories…

When we finally reached Naples, the city found by the ancient Greeks, and the city where pizza was birthed!

The view of Bay of Naples was simply… breathtaking.

We were given a short tour of Castel Nuovo, where the kings used to reign.

As we were touring the city, a black dog started following us, as though it was chaperoning us, and as I squatted down to pat it, it flipped onto its back and leaned its head up as though wanting to kiss me.

But as though we were still intoxicated with the charms of Rome, Naples didn’t manage to rouse that much excitement.

It was half an hour more before I finally saw Pompeii – The lost city, in sight.

It was lunch at some Victoria Hotel with the rest of the group, and we were seated with a family of Canadians from another tour group, telling us about their lives, their adventures with their now-grown children around the world as the father was a diplomat.

They also spoke of their love for Rome and the must-visit places and spoke of the excitement of finally visiting Pompeii.

And then. We stepped foot into the ruins, with the non-threatening Mt Vesuvius framing it in the background.

In 79 AD, it had erupted and killed 5000 of the 20000 population, burying Pompeii under 60 feet of ash. It was unearthed in 1748, by an accidental discovery. Evacuation works can be still seen at the site till this day.

Although it is probably mostly ruins, but to walk down the carriageway built 2000 years ago, and being awed by the “technology” of the people, envisioning their last moments… is truly an experience. Not to mention how much of the architecture, art and relics are still very much intact.

Double storey houses were already “in” back then, the temples with its majestic interior and pretty sculptures can still be seen, albeit in ruins.

The part I anticipated most and couldn’t stop talking about are the casts of the victims buried in the ash.

When the site was excavated, lots of skeletons were found in vacuum of spaces, etched in the ash. It was then realised the space was what encapsulated the victims when they were dying, and as the ash hardened, it created a mould of their bodies.

Plaster was then injected into the hollow spaces, and what turned out were eerie casts portraying faces of death.

You could see how their bodies were struggling, as they died from the fumes, and the agony evident on the casts that captured their expressions as they died.

The public bathhouse is well-preserved, and we could see the big, marble tub, and the area where there were statues on the walls, which used to house massage oils and such.

I was sitting on a water-catchment thingy which I supposed was for the horses to drink along the carriageway.

The little humps on the road are actually pedestrian walkway for people to cross the road since the road would be wet or muddy. Like zebra crossing!

And oh my! P O R N on the walls from 2000 years ago! It was the “geylang” of Pompeii, with tiny cubicles of stone beds.

Some are so short and I wonder if their acts would be limited. But judging from the visuals on the wall, they very well knew what they were doing.

The bakery oven was very much intact, left behind by one of the many bakeries which served the city with fresh bread.

In the casts found, one of it was a dog. And seeing the casts, could be very disturbing.

Try to make sense of the above picture. Haha.

Unfortunately, we didn’t have the chance to visit the museum in Naples, or there would be more of the casts/items unearthed on display there.

It was then another 3 hours ride back to Rome, where we stopped by Cassino for a short break, in the midst of the countryside. Absolutely beautiful.

And the day slowly dimmed as the bus stopped us at a street near our hotel after taking us around a short tour of Rome at night, and we stopped by at the pizzeria opposite the street to pack some pizza.

I tried making a conversation with the Italian waiter in a mixture of English and broken Italian. Damn, I should have brushed it up before I went there.

From a day of extended walking, I was just glad to be showered and hidden in the room with the stink from the shoes reminding me of the day of long, long, walking.

***

Bidding Rome goodbye was no easy feat.

Woke up to the new day still wanting to absorb as much of this mesmerising city before heading to the airport.

Upon exploring Rome alone just the day before, I know returning to Basilica di San Giovanni was a must, since I didn’t manage to go into it.

We walked into the Palace of the Holy Steps, where there were plenty of people worshipping, and we choreographed a picture to look as it.. well that they were worshipping us instead.

So much for vanity.

Then it became a routine that every place we went to, we would look for praying people and pretend to be the innocent tourist browsing at the structure, and the other would snap.

Of course, the cheekiness would be punished with the people promptly stand up just before we could snap it.

I was particularly taken by the statue above cos it was so intimidating, yet the details are so immaculate.

One thing about the cathedrals is that all the confession booths are so pretty.

Took a picture in St Peter’s Cathedral but I think I didn’t upload it cos just too much pictures to upload (I have to skim down from 1000+ gasp!).

It was then a fast and furious trip to Santa Maria degli … fillintherestofthenamehere. It was an old church dated back to 1500s which means The Basilica of St. Mary of the Angels and the Martyrs.

It was a nice wrap to the trip to Rome, as we ran across the junction, bypassing the fountain of Naiads in the centre.

Everything about it was just majestic, and the non-striking exterior hid plenty of gorgeous structures within it.

Rushed back to check out of the hotel by noon by the metro, before I do what I always do when I am overseas – write a postcard to Minibean (my Phuket one never made it back though).

It was the most Italian way to watch the shedding leaves, alfresco-style outside an authentic Italian cafe, sipping tea in the cold, and watching the array of colours from the flower shop opposite the road.

Slowing the pace was the way to go. So much peace, so much fulfilment and gladness to be finally here.

I will be back, someday, I know.

Rome. Venice. Florence. Nice.

Hailed a cab and headed back to the aeroporto, and once again, chewing on the high Italy has left me while looking at the vast out there.

Lovely.

Just lovely.