As you can see, after few chapters of The Lost Symbol, and a severe bout of cramps which forced me to nap a couple of hours (with strange dreams of me kissing a guy, whom I am not even sure if he does exist, just a simple chap, sleeping on a bunk bed in a boat, clean cut, smelling great after a shower, finding food for me, and with such soft, thin lips, and such, sensual, gentle kisses. Oh gentle kisses!), the book isn’t engaging enough for me to trudge on with it, so here I am, writing instead.

I first wrote about Hanoi when I was there.

And then, as I tried to piece the experience together through pictures, I only got so far with recounting the first day.

***

The only reason to get up early on Day 2 was the hotel breakfast, with views of the lake right beside us cos we have the entire morning free as the meeting wouldn’t start till 2pm (quoting a colleague, “And I told my mum I am here for work!“)

We had Pho every morning, and though the breakfast was impressive, we soon realised how it would be the same menu for lunches and the following breakfasts to come.

Since the food wasn’t too bad, our appetites were quite healthy

Right after breakfast, we all chilled by the pool, sipping juices and getting tan in the scorching sun. It is a waste not to utilise the sun and the pool with the weather being almost burning.

The best feeling was when we finally dip in to the cooling pool, and it was absolutely heaven! We got out intermittently for the juice, brief relaxing chats, or just the occasional “breathers“.

Such a delightful start to a Wednesday

(All pictures of scenery sans human beings are by Ian Tan, except the lousy one below the group picture. Haha, me “stealing” the use of his masterpieces, must credit him)

On our way to the meeting venue (yes, that’s what we wear to ballroom meetings), saw the interesting backdrop of a castle and it was the closest I can afford to a roof over my head at this moment.

***

The day was quickly over and we were told to rush to get dressed for our group photo taking session in the early evening before the sun sets.

I guess that was probably one of the most fun moments of the trip (okay, sans alcohol, I mean), when all of us had to dress up in Vietnam’s traditional outfit, and the girls get to keep theirs.

The only thing I was joking about was the prints, it makes us all look like we are prepped for the coffin instead of a photoshoot.

The Aodai is actually meant to be a strangulation tool, really. We had to wear them THIS tight, and then it is slit all the way up to your midrift, and exposing the fats at the sides, and is worn over this sheer pair of white pants. So check out how we managed to fit into one of the sexiest national costumes:

And tadang! Here and me and some of the most lovely colleagues I ever have. Though we aren’t exactly closely-knitted like how I was to my previous colleagues, but this is the bunch of highly-capable people who are most willing to share their knowledge and expertise.

And how can I forget Janice, the one who pieced the trip together, and someone I used to work with for events. She’s an absolute darling and I just adore the girl to bits.

As you can see we were all trying to act demure since we all know how docile and demure and gentle Vietnamese girls are (sibei chio also!).

And yes… now you get what I mean about the prints and colours… cough.

***

Right after our phototaking session, we all headed back to the room to change (yet again!) for the gala dinner within the hotel.

As I wanted to keep costs low and the luggage minimally-filled as possible, I just made do with whatever I could find within the wardrobe, and settled for my jersey instead.

I didn’t expect most people were really gamed and dressed up for the occasion and it was a pretty hilarious evening, and though many pictures were taken (a colleague joked if we want to get ahead, have a raise, promotion, and maybe an early retirement, we could have great use for the pictures we took), most of them are not for the public’s eyes.

I was thankfully spared from the alcohol session, and I didn’t manage to capture all the ammonition we had with us for the night, but it definitely was enough for us to have to carry some of our peers (or even, seniors) back to the rooms.

I am such a natural blond. Giggles.

Coincidentally, I wasn’t the only one who turned up with girlie plaits, and everyone really made an effort.

The winner of the dressing up was the lady in the bathrobe, she gave us all a surprise when she took off her robe, and underneath was a sexy ensemble of netted stockings and ultra-short shorts with tight fitting low cut top, ala a WWF female wrestler.

YES, BAYYYYBEEEEEEH! HAAAAAWWWWTTTTT!

For post-dinner, we ended up at one of them rooms, and sat at the balcony having conversations of many things that gave a deeper glimpse of the people I have known for a while, but never quite had the chance to go deeper.

It was nice, and the night was one I would remember for a long, long while, for lotsa reasons.

When I finally retired back to my room, the mood was one of evaluative, and I took one peek of the Hanoi’s night after a nice shower, then I burrowed into the duvet and braced myself for the long meeting the next day.

***

The last day of meeting was a full day event and we were rewarded to a nice dinner at Bobby Chinn’s restaurant in the evening.

The highlight to the restaurant was definitely meeting the charming, quirky man himself, who is dripping with ample sex appeal. He had just returned from LV grand opening in Singapore, and it was just coincidence that he was around, and thrilling the ladies.

After a day and half in the hotel and not venturing out to Hanoi town centre, we almost forgot how hectic the traffic was, with the honking blasting our ears again as we made the short trip to the quaint restaurant.

Love the velvety, scarlet-y feel to the restaurant,with the tongue-in-cheek decorations, especially the “G spot” we found in the loo.

It was a romantic place to be in, though we were expecting more from the food, but since it was set dinner, we couldn’t quite check out the other specialities.

By the time we got back to hotel, we enjoyed the rest of the night at the hotel’s drinking hole, and just chilled under the moonlight.

We headed back when it was getting late, and concluded the night bidding goodbyes to the other teams from the region, as most of them were heading back the very next day. For another colleague and me, we would be checking out even earlier as we would be extending the trip with some exploring done on our own, to see what more Hanoi had to offer.

I am not sure if this would be the last trip I would have with them, but this is definitely one I would remember dearly for years to come.

I have a hard time concentrating and staying awake this morning for yet another day of early, full-day meeting.

The aching in the body is definitely NOT helping.

I downed 4 pieces of Snickers/Toblerone mini, after 3 pieces of kaya/butter toast, hoping that I have some kind of sugar high to keep me going.

They did a miraculous job though I suspect one stick of cancer culprit did help.

***

Finally, I am gonna start (by right, I should be posting it in its entirety, but I sure delay until moo moo comes home) on the recap on Hanoi trip.

It was good to be on such a chilled work trip, which left plenty of fresh memories to last me for a long, long while.

It was a busy morning when I took a cab ride that cost more than 40 bucks to the airport (SERIOUSLY?!), and met up with the rest of the colleagues there.

Shopped around for 2 bottles of red wine each, and we ended up looking like a alcohol smuggling syndicate with enough alcohol to drown Sentosa.

The flight was only enough for me to watch one and half movie, and thankfully I didn’t get bored with Krisflyer’s help, before I entered a world nothing like I had ever been before.

***

Hanoi is quaintly beautiful, there is still an air of innocence about it, but it was just scorching hot during the days when we were there.

The only fortunate thing was we weren’t trapped in the flood due to the heavy rain storms the day before I reached, and the day after I left.

The rice field made me feel like walking around it barefooted, though I didn’t have the chance to do it.

I made a comment how some of the structures reminded me of the quieter part of Russia.

On the way, we passed by the Red River, flanked by tiny small houses, and it was a picture of exotica.
Couldn’t wait to get to the hotel, and it surely didn’t disappoint, as we resided on one of the lakes in the famed city of lakes.

(The picture of the hotel’s view in the centre, the guy with the piggies and us eating are courtesy of Ian Tan)

The hotel is really cosy, and there were woven baskets on the lake which made us wonder if we could row ourselves in them, but decided I probably couldn’t balance.

The massage pavilion was luxuriously pretty, though I couldn’t part with the money to splurge on a well-needed massage.

Upon arrival, we were greeted by the welcome team, and we checked into our room which comes with an attached balcony that opened up to a picturesque Westlake.

We got changed, and it was exploration time around Hanoi city centre.

***

One thing about Hanoi is, the traffic is infinitely intimidating.

And the honking NEVER stops. It is almost like a traffic offense if you don’t! It would still ring in your ears the moment you get away from the noise pollution, and I am just glad our hotel was tucked nicely away from all the buzz, and was very resort-ish with a nice pool that we couldn’t wait to dive into for a fulfilling dip.

We were almost wondering if there were any traffic lights in Hanoi, and we excitedly pointed out one when we finally saw one.

And I even saw a shop called “Scarlett – The Stylish Mum“, ahem, what a shameless plug!

Our first stop was Dong Xuan Market, but being a non-shoppy person, I walked away empty-handed, and was having a free sauna treat by the burning Hanoi weather, to the extend I had to bun up my hair with a pen I found in my bag. It also made the trip to Hanoi make-up redundant, laughs.

We walked for the longest time, with 2 NS-trained men leading us the wrong ways, before we got to Hoan Kiem Lake.

We took a cab to an air-conditioned mall to buy slippers/shorts, after being told the sneakers and jeans we brought were a tad too “formal” for the ballroom meeting sessions. Though surprised, but gee, absolute good news man!

Finally had a nice dinner with some of the others joining us, and we couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel for a nice, long shower to rinse the stickiness.

It was breezy, and absolutely cooling in the peaceful night of Hanoi (picture courtesy of Ian Tan again!), and the moon was beautiful.

Finally got into the showers, love the bathroom, though Marina Mandarin’s in KL still rocks.

I hid in the room and did a bit of work, surfed a little, and just stared into the far distance, lit by the night light, and its reflection dancing in the lake.

That was just before, the heavy downpour came as suddenly as it went.

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.

I thought I would remember how to start this post, but blocking memories out seems to be one easy thing to do. It is like reading a book, you didn’t bookmark it, and then you start to recall which part of the story did you stop, before you try to flip through it to find it somewhere.

I could barely recall how to start. I know I can’t wait to purge all these.

17th March – 5th day in Europe

It was the hardest day of the trip, and for a good reason.

Despite that, it was also the best day of the trip so far.

I woke up, dropped the note, and said my disappointments, and goodbyes.

It was not a drama stunt, but it was the point that I have had enough of the lies that were concocted by them and knew the only way I could get out of them, is to walk.

It wasn’t that I was stupid. When there are aggressive people calling you names despite of the lies when you bust the truth, you just bite it down, until the day you can shove the truth in their face and wonder how they are gonna wriggle their ways through this again.

I could have pretended till the end of the trip but I didn’t.

He didn’t know that I knew.

I left the hotel, and wandered onto the streets of Rome, surprisingly barely remembering any of the disappointment from before, and started exploring on my own, with a map in the pocket.

I walked a couple of streets down and found Basilica di San Giovanni. And then ah, the easily distracted being of me was quick to be awed and barely remember anything lah!

Until, the desperate calls and “sincere, genuine, sentimental, pleading” SMSes started coming in.

I asked strangers to help me take pictures, and the moment I was on the streets alone I got more smiles and eye contacts (Italian men are soooooo seexxxxaaayyy).

I had forgotten some stuff and headed back to the hotel, I managed to shake him off as I ran across the street and saw him disappearing down the other way.

I went up and grabbed my stuff, and he returned. Bah!

There was no drama, no raised voices, no nothing. Just me saying what I had to say, with a smile and plenty of peace. What transpired was what came across as sweet and genuine then, and as he grabbed me suddenly and threw me into his arms saying those words, I was moronically charmed again. Sometimes, being stupid knows no boundaries.

But being stupid had its advantages. At least it took the mind off things easily, and that set the pace for one of the most liberated days of my adventure. Ignorance could be a bliss, I guess.

And I just finished writing about the hardest part of the trip. Now on to the real highlights!

The thing about taking the metro in Rome is that the ticket is one flat rate, and instead of taking it straight to the Ottaviano Station, we dropped off at the Termini Station, and searched for a long, long time for this shop.

In the subway, there was an accordian player playing in the cabin, and even travelling in the metro is such an art!

With the minimal Italian I could muster, we managed to find the place after asking for directions.

And of course, the main reason behind it is to do something really, really Italian – Exploring Rome on a vespa and getting to the other side of Rome across the river where Lavicant Vatican City is!

That took a bit of spontaneity since I probably have to be confident of my navigating skills.

The chap at the shop was nice to tell us we could drop it off in the evening and he would wait up for us. The original bike chosen was reluctant to start, and it was fated that we got the authentic Vespa instead, and I could pretend to be Audrey Hepburn for a day.

The vespa stopped at the traffic junction and I wasn’t sure the road to go. I managed to follow the road signs on the sides of the pretty buildings but couldn’t figure out the last bit of the route.

I asked the auntie who stopped next to us the way. She didn’t understand when I repeated “Vatican City” many times, before I rolled my tongue and purred, “Dove di Citta del Vaticano?“.

VOILAA!!! It worked magic and she gave a comprehensive “Ahh” before pointing out the directions. Straight, turn left.

And as we twirled a roundabout, and parked by the roadside… we got off and walked a short distance, made a little mistake of walking into the forbidden part of Vatican City, before the Swiss Guard (who is sibei handsome) smiled and told me I should be heading other way. We stopped to buy an icecream, and then -gasp- arrived at the preeminent structure before us.

I immediately whipped out my phone and messaged the one person I know who could totally understand the exhilaration of me standing before it, looking at the sunbeams raining down, feeling the urge to tear, and almost wanting to sprint into the square.

I. AM. IN. VATICAN. CITY. AND. I. AM. ABOUT. TO. SET. FOOT. INTO. THE. PLACE. THAT. HOLDS. MY. DREAM.

I WAS GOING TO SEE ADAM’S KKJ IN SISTINE CHAPEL!

One that is not Version 3.0 that doesn’t response to any chest compression and no amount of CPR could resuscitate it back to life.

Ahem.

I hopped and skipped beyond the entrance, and I truly understood what was “The happiest moment of my life” as described by an earlier SMS.

No words. No words can describe how minute I felt when surrounded by such an ethereally structure, a masterpiece so beautifully crafted standing right smack in the centre of St Peter’s Square.

You could spend an hour just standing there, admiring each and every single unique sculpture perched on top of St Peter’s Basilica.

When I stepped into the Basilica, I was shown what I didn’t think was possible. A rich mix of history, geniosity, and pure, dripping talent.

Where can possible such beautiful things exist one? I want to write stories behind each and every element, like the Saints framed in the walls, but I think the recap will never be finished.

So I will just briefly mention the altar with Bernini’s baldacchino in the centre of the basilica which is the bronze canopy seen in the collage above, and the dove right below the dome.

And of course, to see Michelangelo’s La Pieta from 1499 (top right corner), depicting body of Jesus on Mary’s lap after his cruxifition.

As we exited from the basilica, we walked down the galleries that led us a long way towards what I had been looking forward to – Sistine Chapel.

As everyone hurried from one gallery to another, I took my time as I strolled down the corridors, each and everyone of them a piece of art. Was greeted by what was termed “Great castration of Vatican City’s male statutes” in the Angels and Demons movie. Some of them were fortunate enough to have their men-bits intact, though some of them were sadly made enunchs.

The ceilings are extraordinary, and overwhelm with intricate details.

Had to wait for people to clear to take cheeky pictures like the one below where I pinched my nose…. “Who farted?”

.. and the one I mocked at the kkj.

It was more than an hour before I finally set foot into Sistine Chapel, where the huge mass of people were in there, just standing in awe, with their eyes plastered to the ceiling.

I held my breath and was just as overwhelmed. Michelangelo’s masterpiece.

Alas, it was a no-photography zone, and the rule-bender in me did the usual “act blur” tourist stun when I was stopped.

I then faced my camera up in my palm even though I was stopped and snapped away to get some of the shots above.

Unfortunately the shot of me inside Sistine Chapel was too blur to be posted. I even tried to point my finger up and join fingers with the man with 6 pecs but failed.

The journey around Vatican City had wrapped up fabulously with Adam’s kkj, and I left this beautiful state on a high, heading to the jump on the bike to venture to the next destination – Coliseum, where I navigated to perfectly without losing the way.

There is probably not much to talk about the Coliseum that people don’t already know, but to set foot into somewhere more than 1900 years-old, and visualising the brutality that used to take place here, is truly an experience. And it stood the test of time, despite part of it collapsed during an earthquake in 1349. Because of its age, it had seen through different histories throughout the years.

It is actually smaller than I had thought it would be. The ground that covered the arena was removed to reveal the tunnels beneath that used to house the gladiators and animals before each fight. Many of them were killed to entertain the Romans in ancient times, and part of the Coliseum was actually converted to be a cemetery.

It was freaking cold when the breeze came in as you stood at the top of the spectator stand. My teeth were chattering.

As we munched on a hotdog and headed towards the parked bike, we had pretty much covered the must-sees, and we headed back to the heart of Rome, and see where it brings us.

We rode to a small street (again!), going against traffic, before we saw Pantheon right before us. Told you about surprises round the corners when you least expected it.

U-turn back and parked the Vespa next to a pretty eatery.. which we eventually saw Julia Roberts park hers at the exact same spot in Duplicity.

A British tourist struck up a conversation with us as we entered Pantheon, which was erected in 129AD. Pantheon, not the tourist. He was marvelling at how amazing it is for a building this well preserved and it is almost 2000 years old!

The thing about me is, I cannot imagine and really believe that human’s history can be well-documented since so long ago, let alone to be still be able to stand right in the centre of it.

The interior of Pantheon is described as:

The building is circular with a portico of three ranks of huge granite Corinthian columns (eight in the first rank and two groups of four behind) under a pediment opening into the rotunda, under a coffered, concrete dome, with a central opening (oculus) open to the sky. The Pantheon is the oldest large-scale dome in Rome. The height to the oculus and the diameter of the interior circle are the same, 43.3 metres (142 ft). A rectangular structure links the portico with the rotunda. It is one of the best preserved of all Roman buildings. It has been in continuous use throughout its history.

Which makes me wonder what will happen when it rains?

It is also where Raphael’s tomb lies, with his fiance right beside him.

We continued the tour on the Vespa as the evening set in.

We stopped by the Tiber (Tevere) – the river that divides Rome. Many bridges arch over it and it was just gorgeous in the evening.

We went round and round and round Piazza del Popolo just to get back to the right traffic way.

Rounded up the evening with more travelling on the road and admire the architectural beauty of Rome, passing various churches, monuments, fountains, squeezing in and out of the traffic which was comparable to Johorians’.

Made our way back to the rental shop, stopped by a nice, cosy restaurant for dinner.

With me ordering Carbonara again to “try my luck” and ended up vastly disappointed yet again.

Walked to the pharmacy to get some novelty item, before heading back to the hotel by metro.

Rested early as the next day was one that was planned impromptu-ly (at the expense of Firenze), and was shocked by the news of Natasha Richardson’s injury on the television.

And the day ended with me chewing on the ample memories this beautiful city has left me with.

As the recap goes on, the harder it gets, like a reluctant story to be told.

It was an early Monday morning, awfully cold, when we headed to Stansted Airport at 6ish, passing by various landmarks in London, glowing in the morning rays.

Breakfast was done in the queue to pay for luggage check-in, and the incompetence and rudeness of Ryanair staff made me wonder if they only employ the worst.

Of course, I was thrilled to have Krispy Kreme for breakfast (glazed!) accompanied by orange juice.

By the time we finally check-in and made a mad dash to the gate, we reached it 5 minutes before the supposed take off.

Unfortunately, delays are just part and parcel of budget airlines.

Like I had stated before, not that this disclaimer has to go on and on, the recap was what was supposed to be penned, but I didn’t get the chance to do so.

Thus, I would recall it as the events unfold.

The trip was to celebrate his 28th, and the first couple of days in London set it up for a rather fantastic trip.

The turning point was just before boarding when an SMS had came in, cleverly disguised in an unknown number.

Perhaps you would have already read it in the post way back then, but it was clearly the point that I knew that goodbye wasn’t far. It is easier that way. To plan your goodbye, enjoy unbridled-ly, and know very well that turning a blind eye to all the lies spun by both of them could only.. get you this far.

Anyway. I digress. Can you imagine 2 idiots smoking besides a fuelling plane?

I sat on the plane, and planned my escape route. What was frustrating is how it was glaringly obvious, yet no admissions.

And perhaps, that was the turning point.

When you decide to lose all, and ready to do so, it was actually the point when you can liberate yourself to truly understand “carpe diem“.

I bit my lip and willed it away.

3 and half hour later, I was in Italy’s embrace when we touched down at Ciampino Airport.

I thought it wasn’t gonna be easy but the charm and beauty of Italy soon made it so much easier.

I was romancing Roma. I was just so… moved to be there. And I wasn’t kidding I go everywhere and I had tears in my eyes cos I was just so awed.

I am such a pussy. Pfft.

It was a shuttle bus that took us to the Termini Stazione, and my fabulous skills of reading the map meant I could navigate around the small roads and reach the hotel with plenty of easy. Though I have to say with that distance, walking was probably not advised with the luggage.

Just wanted to chill a little, and sat by the windowside and had a breather and watch the Italian crowd buzzed by in the late afternoon in Rome.

I wrote down my thoughts.

I could feel the air turning chilly as evening approached.

Armed with a map, we ventured out into the openness of Rome, not knowing what to expect, as we hadn’t seen anything impressive on our journey from the airport…

Much of the walls were vandalized by graffiti, and I was wondering if Rome was going to disappoint me with my high expectations of it.

But Rome is a city full of surprises. When you turn from a street into a smaller, seemingly quieter street, a few steps more will bring you to the most beautiful sights ever.

The very first one that we got to, was an abandoned park near the hotel, and we decided to walk up the steps.

Little did we know, the sight that would greet us was… the Roman Coliseum in its full glory in the evening sun.

We stopped by a restaurant just opposite the road, and had the nicest Pepperoni pizza ever (there is a picture of me in the 2nd collage sitting at the restaurant).

As it was late in the afternoon, touring it wasn’t an option since the ticket booth was closed, but it was magnificently impressive just to be standing at its foot and imagine Russell Crowe, Joaquin Phoenix and Angelina Jolie in there re-enacting Gladiator.

It was so beautiful.

And there were Nonny horses out there, which wouldn’t stop nibbling my buttons. The ones on my coat.

The Coliseum changes its colour from grey, to orangey.. with the white-washed Arch of Constantine erected stoically by its side.

A walk further down the road led to the Roman Forum, where the ruins and pillars could be seen and you need a little imagination to piece everything together to form a majestic picture of the past.

A statue of Julius Caesar was not far from it, and it was adorned by flowers and all… as he was assassinated on 15th March, 44 BC at the forum, thus a day before was his death anniversary.

It wasn’t too long a walk before we reached a busy junction and a majestic pure-white marble building that resembles a wedding cake.

Piazza Venezia was where we found ourselves. The piazza is at the foot of the Capitoline Hill and near the Roman Forum. It is dominated by the imposing Monument to Vittorio Emanuele II. The building was much more contemporary compared to the others with rich history, and was considered “imposing” and being despised by the Romans.

And the junction in front of it is one tough bitch to cross.

Walked by various, pretty cathedrals and they were all, absolutely gorgeous.

We walked down a typical Italian backstreet, and saw the busy stalls screaming out to tourists.. and I found myself very attracted to the yellow streets.

It was when I turned my head as I came to the end of the street, that I realised I was standing in front of one of the most beautiful sights ever.

The Trevi Fountain!

It is so, so, so, so beautiful in the night. I cupped my face in disbelief and stood there to stare at the exquisite details for a long, long while.

A coin was tossed into the fountain. That should bring me back someday, hopefully with my parents and Minibean.

My brilliant navigating skills brought me to Spanish steps! Lotsa people were gathered there, though the companion was less than thrilled to realise it was literally steps that seemed insignificant to him.

It is the longest and widest staircase in Europe, but I guess for people who grow up in HDB, no staircase could be longer than what we see everyday.

Then again, HDB flats don’t have staircases which are almost 300 years old.

Passed the Palazzo Barberini which now serves as a gallery and museum, with some of Raphael’s work in there.

Trinità dei Monti was already closed by the time we got to the top of the stairs, and from there, we took the route down the slope and brought us to Triton Fountain by Bernini! A merman!

I sat by the side of the fountain for a long, long while, before heading over to one of the restaurants across the road for some fabulous Italian food.

I was determined to try Carbonara but it didn’t turn out the way I thought it would be. It was authentic Italian style but uh.. was a little salty and dry for my liking.

Nonetheless, it was a nice, cosy meal, and pretty affordable.

Left the seat and tried to convey through gestures that I wanted a cake with a candle and the staff were really fabulous with pulling it off though I didn’t think they would understand my instructions.

It was then late as we strutted down the very chilly Roma streets, before we hopped on a cab that brought us half the map across the one in our hands.

We walked half of the map that evening.

And gee, I can’t stop gushing how beautiful Rome is. Especially at night.

The night didn’t end too late, and chilling in the room was tainted by the stench from the socks.

It was the night that the slightly ajar window allowed too much cold to seep in, and I woke constantly to find a warm spot to burrow into.

Goodnight Rome.

There were plans to get onto one of those cheesy tour buses, meet up with the chaps, return to the town I used to stay, Chinatown… and all.

Lazed in bed a little to rid of the jet-lag, before we woke up for a traditional English breakfast.

Day 2 – Of shopping and the countryside

We headed to one of the cafes round the corner and kickstarted the day with a pot of hot tea and chocolate croissant (I used to have that for breakfast with orange juice!).

Before we knew it, we were on our way to Bicester Village for some shopping. We had thought it was gonna be a short distant trip but didn’t expect it to be almost 2 hours away (with Aunty Dorene’s driving that is).

Travelled half the way in the sun “topless”, listening to the radio, and I remember hearing Leona Lewis’ “Run” twice on the journey, and I told myself if I heard it another time on the radio(to and fro), I know it was a sign I was doing something right.

It then got too cold and we stopped halfway to dress the car, but we still saw endless stretch of the blue skies as we sped down the highway.

I didn’t get to hear it for a third time.

I was apprehensive about shopping, cos I didn’t wanna waste the time shopping during the trip, and to travel that distance was pretty time-wasting, or so I thought.

As I got there, the monster within was unleashed.

It was a cluster of outlet stores of branded gear, and with pounds at an all-time low, most of them are considered awesome bargains.

I tried very hard to control, and by the end of the day at 5.30pm, the total damage include: 2 pairs of Puma shoes, a burberry zipped throwover for Minibean, 2 matching Burberry scarf, a set of suit (for him), 2 shirts (for him), a jumper (for him), a pair of Gucci sunglasses, and my favourite buy – a red, hot Burberry trenchcoat, the best buy – Tag Heuer Alter-Ego watch.

I resisted the temptation to bag myself a pair of Alexandra McQueen or a Dior bag.

All the prices were pretty reasonable, and I paid slightly less than S$850 for the watch, the most expensive buy of all. The scarf was $29.90 pounds each with the exchange rate at slightly less than 2.2.

It wasn’t easy for me to decide to splurge, but hey, we travelled the distance, might as well right? I mean, if I didn’t buy anything, I would have wasted an entire day. Ahem.

We packed the boot before we set off for the return journey, and a road sign pointing us towards Blenheim Palace prompted us to embark on an adventure, looking for the Palace we had never been to before.

It took us quite a while, with the help of the GPS, before we finally found the quaint palace as the sun was setting.

It was definitely worthwhile as we found ourselves in Oxfordshire, a town that is so cute and pretty that I don’t know how else to describe it.

It is nothing you would find in London or any other European places for that matter (well uh… cos I have never been to much lah!)… it is just very extraordinary.

We had wanted to rush to the palace before the place is closed, thus we had said we would return to the town later, but it was dark by the time we returned to the town and I didn’t manage to capture its beauty.

As we got off from the car, the guards told us that the palace was closed, and apparently there was gonna be a wedding held there. Wah, then like that sure great place to find rich and successful men. Ahem.

The tourist tag proved to be useful during a random conversation struck up with the guards and an appreciative grin as he gave the go-ahead for us to walk round the park towards the palace sealed the deal.

It definitely ain’t as majestic as any other palaces we had seen before, but the serenity of the place, the spacious vast, and how the 2000 acre park was highlighted by the evening sun made the place absolutely gorgeous.

There was a big path that hugs the lake in its embrace, and it was an hour and a half later, before we finally returned to a darken entrance, where the car was parked.

Blenheim Palace is the birthplace and ancestral home of Sir Winston Churchill a.k.a. the Bulldog and is around 300 years old.

It was the perfect place to take in the autumn’s grace.

On the far left you could vaguely see “The Grand Bridge“.

It got chilly as we reached almost the far end of the park and I was just glad my newest purchase came in handy as I threw it over the other coat.

The piercing wind to the face made me feel like a piece of frozen meat.

We rushed back to London in time for a late dinner, and had authentic Naplese Italian food with Brendan joining us. The restaurant was buzzing with life even though it was no longer early. A flashing thought came to mind of how I could really get used to this.

It was the first time I met Brendan, and he’s a charmer.

By the time we got back, I remember the weather took a dip and the temperature plunged even lower to an unexpected 3 degrees.

The day ended with some light reading, and then it was lights off.

***

Day 3 – Of the familiar, and the casino

Woke up and made a dash to one of my favourite places – Tower of London, which overlooks the London Bridge. It has something to do with my fascination of the monarchy, especially King Henry VIII.

Took the tube and bought an oyster card that didn’t survive more than 15 minutes before we lost it in the tube.

There was already a huge queue at the ticket booth, before we entered into the Palace grounds, exploring different towers, and looking at the crown jewels.

The myths behind it, gave it a shroud of mystery. Tower of London is one of the world’s most haunted site.

It was pretty much touch and go, before we headed to Leicester Square (my weekly hang-out place!) to meet Aunty Dorene, Lynette and Wei for dim sum lunch at Yauatcha. It was one of those hip restaurants with fusion dim sum, and it was of a really interesting concept.

It was another day of fabulous weather with the day not too cold, and the famous gloomy weather stayed away.

We walked from Chinatown, trying to figure out the way in Soho, unfortunately getting ourselves lost. I was smart to dispatch the guy to ask for directions, since the street was littered with guys walking hand in hand. I didn’t think I would have much luck asking for directions. Hurhurhur.

We managed to find the place finally and after lunch, we walked the way down Oxford Street to Selfridges!

Unfortunately, nothing caught my fancy and I survived Selfridges without hurting my wallet. Helped someone bought a Miu miu and an LV bag. Despite how they weren’t meant for myself, it still felt good to be strutting out with those fancy paperbags.

It was in the evening when we were dropped off at Westminster Cathedral, and we explored the place a little, before we walked to Victoria Station (where I used to have to take trains back to Croydon, and vice versa) to grab a map.

It was then a long walk to Buckingham Palace to admire its full glory in the night.

We hang around Victoria Memorial, where the Angels of Truth, Justice and Charity were at.

It was great just to chill and watch the sight in its orangey hue.

By then, it was time to head back to Victoria and meet the loveliest guys for dinner!

Met up with YL, Wenwei, Huina, Suzanne and Uncle Ben at a small eatery where we had duck noodles. The last time I met them (YL, Wenwei and Huina) in the country was 11 years back in Shrewsbury/Birmingham when I made a solo trip to visit them, and I remember I got drunk from lager.

But the last time I met up with this bunch of awesome guys were during Wenwei’s wedding, and we had so much fun.

There are not many weddings people attend and feel that the marriage could last, thus theirs was one that was truly memorable and touching, because it was so genuinely lovely.

It was the highlight of the trip to get to meet up with them and such a cosy dinner was more than enough

Uncle Ben then dropped Suzanne to take a bus back to Nottingham(later did I know Suzanne is actually Lynette’s friend!), before we all squeezed into his car to head to Leicester Square.

We parked at this dark carpark with a car shivering in the cold, before you see 2 faces emerging from the dark. I asked if they wanna walk up and take a closer look, but they say they would cover me should I get attacked for watching a live show.

I doubt so you know, since they probably have to like get dressed and get off the car or else they would really freeze.

They dared me to go up and take a picture instead, but I have no balls.

Came to the junction of Piccadilly Circus and took the obligatory picture of the neon-lights.

When we get to Leicester Square, the bad influence caused me to lose my virginity in the casino! The Empire Casino, which apparently luuuuurrrrrrvvvvess Chinese customers.

And it feels good to be asked to check our IDs just to make sure we were all above 18. Ahem.

The old pals decided to pool in and go for red/black, and luck was obviously not on their side.

I betted on roulette for the first time, and we spent a great deal of the night in there, and surprisingly, were in the black when we called it a night.

When the others decided to leave, we stayed on and continued on till it was late. It was perhaps 1am when we finally left the casino on a very cold night.

As we made our way back to Kensington on the cab, I remember I was incredibly tired as my hair was stroke with tiny pecks planted as I took a short nap. I remember how good it felt, and also painfully aware how short-lived it would be.

After a hot shower, it was plenty of scurrying to pack for next morning’s flight, before a short 4-hours sleep was caught.

And then, a new journey begun.

This is perhaps the hardest to churn amongst all the memories remapping in recent days, which has sat in my drafts for days.

March 2009. London & Rome.

It would have been different if this was written fresh from the experience, or at any point in the past 2 and half months.

Then various considerations came up as I did the collages, of places I had been, the feeeeeeling each place left me with, and the joy of the experiences.

For the fear of being the post being misconstrued, it is one hardest to start on, and the pictures went through lotsa editing. Initially, it was plenty of cropping. Then there came a point cropping doesn’t work, as most pictures of places are not solo ones, and once cropped, it could have been Sentosa and it wouldn’t be any different. Then faces were blacked out by angry paintbrush from the tools of Photoshop.. then this and that.

And then you realise, some shared memories cannot be blacked out and I have to accept that.

Then again, a friend said she wouldn’t friend me if I wishy-washy think so much what others think, cough cough, and I am not good with emotional blackmails, remember (you win!! I looser!)?

Putting all things aside, I did go all out to enjoy myself during the trip, as I had planned it to be one where I would say goodbye. It hadn’t been that way, as I had wanted to roam around Europe with some fabulous friends, and then despite a rough patch, he was in on the trip too.

Enough of that. Cos at the end of it all, like the previous posts, I could chew on the memories with a smile as if it was still back then, and the compartmentalising works pretty well as I relive what I would have written back then and pick myself out from “now”.

It would be a journalling of what the trip had meant to me, and how I actually felt during the trip.

Like I had said, it was good to be back, with or without.

***

Day 1

Everytime I return to the cold, cold Europe, I feel like a little girl all over again. The glee, the excitement, the rush.. and the eagerness to walk down paths I was once so familiar with.

I wonder if Alice felt the same way when she was in wonderland.

Somehow I love to take pictures as the plane takes off… as if it could capture some sort of anticipation, and the silliness of it all. Or maybe, it shows that I was leaving a part of me, the burdened part behind, and recharging myself with renewed zest for adventures.

Almost missed the flight cos spent some time around Terminal 3 shopping for books and having breakfast at Burger King… and reaching a clean, cleared gate as the last passengers to board.

I was even blogging on the plane through my phone, and sending messages to Wifey and Potato, until Potato screamed at me over SMS to switch off my phone.

Spent much of the flight catching movies on Krisworld. The Duchess (I remember watching this vividly cos I just love period movies), Twilight, Twilight, Twilight, part of Slumdog millionaire again, but I didn’t manage to sit through Australia.

13 hours later, I looked out of the window and recognised the London Eye, the London Bridge, and the many intimate landmarks that made London, London.

The moment I landed at Heathrow, the lovely English accent from the young immigration officer made me go weak in the knees. Before I knew it, I was speaking in an annoying twang just for the good fun of it.

The standard questions were asked, about where I was staying, purpose of visit and all, and he looked up with a smile and asked, “Where did you learn your English? Have you been here before?“.

“I used to stay here a decade ago.”

Whose place will you be staying at? I pointed to the chap standing at the next booth, “His aunt’s place, South Kensington.”

The 2 immigration officers looked at each other, “Oh, they are together.”

“Ahh.. you should have said you are with your boyfriend.”

Dang! I shrugged. I didn’t manage to explain things, but it was pretty obvious I wasn’t gonna get lucky on the trip.

And I wasn’t about to snag an officer cap in UK.

Shopped for a bottle of perfume to add to my evergrowing collection, since I had absent-mindedly forgotten mine since I only packed the night before.

As I stepped into the open for a much needed fag, the sliding doors (one of my favourite movies is Sliding doors, which I watched in this very country!) liberated me into the cold, frosty air.

I literally skipped into the open and clapped my hands, whispering, “Yay! I’m back!” with a big, wide grin, promptly whipping out my camera to show a tired me in the cold… it shouts, “LONDON!!!“.

And then it was a short walk to the Heathrow station to wait for a Heathrow Express train which will bring us to central London with 15 minutes.

The messages then started coming in from the lads asking if we would be out partying tonight. As it might be a little rude to Aunty Dorene, I took a raincheck and said I might join them for late-night out instead.

15 minutes later, we were at Paddington station, and the buzz from the commuters gave me a buzz!

Aunty Dorene picked us up in her car, and had the hood down. It was freezing but I was just glad to breathe the crisp, cold air, seeing the signature red buses upclose at the back of the convertible.

We stopped by to grab some yohgurt before heading back to hers. The familiar sight of the pubs at the corners warmed me up already.

And Imperial College in sight, there were a few of weekends we bunked over at friends’ hostel here.

The moment we stepped in and unpacked briefly, it was within minutes the notebook was out to make great use of the wifi to see what I had missed at work.

I was given a classic black Helmut Lang coat, which proved to be a staple for the rest of the trip. I was poorly packed for the trip.

Freshened up, showered, slipped on the netted stockings and boots, and we were dressed for a night out. Black and Blue was where we had our dinner, and the warm interior was fast inducing the jetlag in me.

I was in a perpetual daze over dinner, with Suki and the young ladies joining us, and had to walk out of the restaurant a few times just to freeze myself awake.

I couldn’t remember much of the dinner. I didn’t manage to eat much (it was almost breakfast in Singapore!) cos the slab of meat was intimidatingly huge. The place was packed brim with students from nearby colleges. And with the exchange rate at an almost all-time low, the food was pretty cheap actually.

We then headed out for cruising in central London, and we were outside Buddha Bar (the chic chic IT place), but weren’t really interested to head in. I knew I wouldn’t be able to join the other lads that night.

Had to scrap the plans of strolling down Embankment at night, though we did stop briefly to soak in the night view, before we continued driving round Leicester Square, Westminster, Knightsbridge.

Since we weren’t exactly London virgins, it was mostly touch and go before we rounded back for the cosy duvet. I don’t remember feeling jetlag much in the past, but it could just be age catching up with me.

The adrenalin and hype by the end of the night was replaced by plenty of contentment, and I would be glad to just stay indoors and explore the neighbourhood and blend in with the locals.

There was no itinery, just the way I like it.

Though if there were tickets, I would probably spending the night in Manchester and not London. But somehow whatever matches I missed are always for the better – they save me the heartaches.

I burrowed into the duvet having goosebumps all over as the cold sept in from the balcony’s door.

It smells different. It smells like liberation, and plenty of peace.

Goodnight Day 1.