I travelled to the far east - or north east, to be more accurate - for a wakeboarding session on Friday. It began as an exercise in patience since student-organised events will almost always begin late. In this case it was almost an hour and a half worth of popping thought bubbles. 

Prior to this I always thought wakeboarding was an energy-intensive activity with a high-strength pre-requisite. Turns out, all  you need is to be able to keep you ass close to the board, relax, and have a really strong grip. From floating in the water to standing up, there's minimal effort involved since the boat really just does all the work and pulls you up from the water. 

The hard part's just holding onto the damn handle. So much harder than it looks. I can barely clench my fist today cos my forearms are hurting so much. If things work out, the next round will be in Bali (:

Home and home.

There is home and then there is Home, with the capital H.

Home, with the capital H, is the place that holds the people I love most, where ever they may be. Home, with capital H and welcoming arms, is where I'll eventually return to. Home, with the capital H and comforting broad shoulders, is what I'll miss when I start tiring of the road. Home, with the capital H and all round familiarity that I slip into so easily, is what I'll want, but not now. Home, with the capital H, is as concrete as it is abstract; it is conversations at the dinner table, lazy family-day-Sundays, the disembodied voice over the phone asking when I'll be home, little notes left in folders and on the fridge.

home, on the other hand, refers to the places I found a familiar comfort and a certain security. home was the 16 square metre room in Cologone filled with warmth and a chestful of plants in the middle of it all. home was breakfast in a pavilion with a dear friend and his family in Bad Hersfeld. home was the warm embrace I slept and awoke to in Marseille. home was a comfortable couch, freshly cooked pasta and movie nights in Rome. home was the sincerity with which strangers opened their lives to me. home was the inexplicable touch of commonality and understanding about the Way We Live Or Travel. home, too, would've been a week in Riga with a soft-spoken, sparkly-eyed friend.

There is Home, the permanent place I dare to take for granted in the short term, in which I was missed before I missed. Then there is home, which I missed at times because some were fleeting and I hadn't the time to properly appreciate all that surrounded me at that point. home was where I left with a mere hint of reluctance, where the neighbourhood playgrounds were more memorable than the house itself, and where I would've loved to stay on indefinitely and left with great unwillingness.

Be it Home or home, while the physical spaces played a part, the people took up massive spaces in my heart.

Bummed But.

Looks like the freshly brewed vanilla coffee from the IBM igloo did a fantastic job. 5-frickin'-am and I remain awake. For once, it's actually a positive side effect. Did some flashtrip-planning after our semi-reckless plan to Munich fell through. Probably a good thing else we'd be wandering through the absymally cold city in search of a place to stay. That said, I am quite bummed about the failed plan; was very much looking forward to meet up with a friend and getting out of ECP.

The day was an overall great one though and I've plenty to be thankful for. Made pizzas for dinner, satisfied my pizza craving and met lovely new people ("He sings in the shower!! I can hear him all the time! Never stops talking!"), received welcomed chocolate relief in mid-afternoon, got the photos I printed, came up with Plan B for Easter Weekend Blitz-Trip aaaand kind of understood what went on in class despite all the confusion.

Also, managed to lock myself out of my room today most stupidly. The lady at the reception merely grinned, daintily half-nodded, waved a hand and produced a form for me to fill before handing me another set of keys.

In other news:

"Hello! Do you have any more of those pretty bags? I'd like one! (:"

"Well, for a pretty girl, I'm sure we do!" -proceeds to hand me two-

So glib.

Differences

Everything is so different here.

The students here play really, really hard and probably study equally hard. Partying is practically part of the curriculum. The study hard part, at this point, is merely a hypothesis derived from preliminary observations of the timetable. The schedule is crazy. I have days that end at 2045h.

We are so pampered in Singapore - everything is organised, efficient and mostly reliable. Here...let's just say it's quite a world of difference. And it's interesting how everyone just adapts to it (and maybe block it out, for  the foreigners). After being here, I wonder why we're always rushing back home and realised yea, I could get used to this. If I though my occasional long lunches in Singapore were languid, I was so wrong. Lunch here is easily a five-course affair beginning and ending with a drink. Should I have such a lunch without the main course, I'd still be full. Food here is great, fascinating and reliable. At the rate I'm eating, I should be worried.

More next time.

Thus Far

Oh French. I knew the French love their language, but I didn't know they loved it that much. So far, all the students I've spoken to, upon realising that I am barely competent in French, have given me either pitying smiles or vaguely awed looks. Awed because they probably never thought they'll meet someone brave (or stupid) enough to go to France for half a year with zero French knowledge.

It's taking a fair bit of getting used to - the temperature, the food, the (barely furnished) room, the (crazy, crazy) wind that blows right through you, the general way of life - alot slower than what I'm used to, the differences in logic. A Finnish student was rather amused at my general argh-ness at the weather. "In my country, the snow is usually up to this high (gestures at above-knee level), so this weather is like summer over there." "In Singapore, I'm used to wearing shorts and tee-shirts during summer, which is everyday." Shivers.

So far, we've traipsed to a nearby supermarket by conveniently passing through a cemetery. It's a lovely place, I have to say. Very peaceful. No idea when we will actually attempt to cook, however. The pantry/kitchen is in a state I'd only describe as beyond dubious although I have heard that the kitchens get better as the floors get higher. Food scarcity isn't a concern at the moment considering how I've got enough to last me at least two weeks. Also, my room-mate and I started a yoghurt collection - one from the cafeteria every time we eat there. We now have five boxes of yoghurt and two bottles of milks sitting on the window sill in the chilly air. It's absolutely awesome.

While mingling today, I found some of my goals for this exchange, one of which being learning how to say hello in all the languages of all the nationalities present. Occasionally turns up with some anticlimax results:

"Is the 'hello' in Swedish the same as the 'hello' in English?"

"Nope." 

"So how dya say it?" 

"Hey (Hej)." 

Another one is to teach the entire group how to play one of those mass orientation games. Just because. And also to break the awkward hanging around conversations tensions.

3 Too Many

On account of it being the last work day, I went to the office out of the sheer necessity of being physically present. And since it was the  last day, the only proper thing left to do was the usual farewells and last-minute catch ups. Thus began a string of meet-ups. It started with breakfast - a coffee. Then lunch - green tea latte. Then teabreak - apple celery juice. Then dinner. Then post-dinner - ale and mojito.

If you ask me, that was three drinks too many for a day and the effects lasted well into the next day (today) in chronological order. Don't think I've slept so much in day just because of caffeine and alcohol. The view at the post-dinner venue was great though, lovely chill-out place (with extravagant prices for nibbles).

The Perfect Lunch

Since I had lunchtime all to myself today, I decided to engage in a little wandering around the Areas Yet To Be Explored. And some things just call out to you, don't they? From across a busy road, that's exactly what The Sandwich Shop did. But it wasn't the only shop that did.

After resisting the urge to enter and resisting the urge to backtrack to enter mph, the bookstore which was en route to the lunchtime haven, I made it without further setbacks. And hellooo! sand! wiches! As I waited for the toasted goodness to be prepared, I busied myself with locating a spot where I could eat and read with maximum comfort (i.e. quiet corners or seats against the wall, optimal coolness, space for the sandwiches, serviettes within easy reach, phone on silent, book comfortably propped at an angle and doesn't slide, reasonable amount of extra space).

Then it was goodbye world, hello me-time. When I looked up, the sky was pelting large, heavy droplets at everything and anything. Oh well, looks like I've to wait a while. Not that anyone's complaining, really. Not at all. 

The next time I looked up, I noticed people glancing at me half-amusedly as they walked past. Then I noticed the person beside me and felt like I just met a kindred spirit. Hel-lo twin! There he was at a spot right next to mine, sandwich in one hand, book in the other (propped up),  phone on silent (it vibrated and was subsequently ignored) and blissfully oblivious to his surroundings. When did he even arrive?? Wanted to hi-five him at that moment but it would've been most impertinent to burst that obvious me-time bubble.

Even his table setup was similar to mine.

Best. Lunch. Ever. I've never been more amused.

The Feeling of Jazz

"Jazz is the music of the body. The breath comes through brass. It is the body's breath, and the strings' wails and moans are echoes of the body's music. It is the body's vibrations which ripple from the fingers. And the mystery of the withheld theme, known to jazz musicians alone, is like the mystery of our secret life. We give to others only peripheral improvisations."

- Anais Nin

I wonder if I can listen to music at work.

Would be lovely to catch up with all that jazz.

In other news, I've developed newfound respect for ladies who are constantly in heels. 

On posture

Mom, while attempting to get my dad to improve his unbecoming uncle posture,

"Imagine you've a delicate thread holding you up and you've to stand straight so the thread won't snap."

To which my dad immediately replied,

"But then my pants will drop." 

Not bad, dad. I was rather impressed.

Mid-step

It's when the heart and mind gets forcibly unravelled and you're thrown into an existential limbo with one foot frozen in mid-air. It's the disconcerting loss of self, of thought, of breath for that half-conscious moment. It's the incomplete dominance effect of realizing a minor loss and experiencing a silver of joy; the sudden catch of breath in your throat because the ambivalence becomes so tangible. It's sensation tracing a careless finger across your jaw, past your shoulder, down your arm and taking flight from the tip of your little finger leaving you with all but a sigh.

That's how it feels to lose a little faith and grow in faith at the same time.

Sleep Comes Uneasy

Five hours of sleep on a bus trip to the edges of the capital has left me reluctant to hit the sack. Tomorrow starts bright & early in five hours and I only wonder what the afternoon will bring. Perhaps, I could chance a jaunt to the bookshop-cafe I've been meaning to visit. Alone of course. (Good cafe company's rare and I'm thankful to have found one for a portion of this trip.) But I shan't stay out for too long. We're hosting another family for dinner tonight. I can imagine the tsktsk-ing should I attempt to maneuver my way out of it; horribly impolite, I know, and my mother will never let me hear the end of it. If not, maybe I'll cafe-hop the strip near the apartment. Close enough to run back when dinner calls. Then hit the bookshop-cafe come Monday before the household awakes. Say yea to me-time.

#600 Friday Night

Since evening, my thoughts have fluctuated between I should be out somewhere doing something, not in my room staring at the four walls and With that kinda rain, thank goodness I didn't go out.When you're sick, the ambivalence towards venturing anywhere is multiplied. You might regret passing up an opportunity, yet your self-preservation instinct is telling you to enter hibernation mode. There is sooo much more of Beijing that I haven't explored. Gotta recuperate asap but the allure of short-term satisfaction tugs at me. Oh, self control. Fortunately (in this case), my (general lack of) self-control is nicely balanced with inertia. There has to be some way to store enthusiasm-energy and call upon it when needed, not have it jump around in your bones after an ice-cream and before a nap.

Sunday Morning Saturdays

Once again, I'm at the Bridge Cafe nestled snugly in a cushioned chair enjoying an early morning breakfast. It's blueberry pancakes and granola with yoghurt today. (Orders before 8am get a 20% discount) Early mornings are certainly more pleasant.

Sometimes, however, you meet couples with issues and the cafe becomes a neutral ground for them to sort out their differences over a plate of noodles. And before you know it, the issue becomes the spicy nature of the noodles. The lady had wanted a non-spicy but the gentleman had mistakenly ordered a spicy one for her, resulting in the most petulant arm-folding foul-faced sulk I've ever seen a woman in her mid-thirties throw. Srsly???

In the two weeks that I've been here, I've seen this scenario play out countless times. The lady sulks and the guy is there trying his best to placate the dowager. No difference this time. Poor guy, already half bald and still being unnecessarily stressed. As I sat beside them across the aisle journaling and munching granola, his distress was so evident I couldn't help but watch from the corner of my eye (I know, I know, kaypoh Singaporean) because such things just draw your attention in a way that can't be explained. They left after an extended conversation involving the guy running his hand through his non-existent hair and the lady voicing an a entire vocal range. 

You go to my head

We went to a club yesterday and I tried my first flaming lamborghini.

Having visited Propaganda - one of the many clubs along the Wudaokou stretch - the week before, the boys were eager to return for the free drinks and accompanying flames. So after a post-finals KTV session, we ambled over, pretending not to understand a word of Chinese. Free entry for foreign students, apparently. 

XL ordered four. I sat, elbows propped on the bartop, and watched the bartender prepare the drinks - layer by layer, as gently as he could. Four layers in all. (Was wondering why he didn't use a spoon. Makes it easier, right?) Then separately, he filled four shot glasses with curacao before handing each of us a straw.

He lit the drink and the flames blazed a surreal blue. Once the shot of curacao was emptied, we inhaled the contents in a jiffy. T'was such a pretty drink, and gone so fast too. Pity, pity. I only remember the lingering sweetness of Bailey's Irish Cream and a happy, comfortable warmth settling in my stomach.

Then it all went to my head, in a matter of minutes. I could almost feel the fumes seeping into my brain and proceeding to lift it up like helium balloons. And I remember half-wailing about being a snail murderer. All those crushed crispy shells.

Peak Periods on the Subway

Experienced a Beijing Subway Rush this evening when we changed trains seven times to and fro. Upon pulling up at the station, I was pleasantly surprised to see queues of people outside while mentally comparing it to Singapore where queues at the MRT are Stomp-worthy. With that first impression in mind and expecting to step onto the platform with ease, nothing prepared me for the shock when the train doors opened and a surge of people immediately wrestled, pushed and elbowed in an almost detached way. They seem to view the people around them as obstacles and by all means possible, get them out of the way. So I, too, battled my way out, nearly elbowing some guy's face.

Also, standing butt to butt with a stranger on an impossibly sardine-packed subway is about the most awkward thing I've yet to experience.

♥ unintentionally hilarious people.

Absolute

This week brought with it quantum fuzziness (not the duckling), increased entropy and ironically, a kind of certainty that originates from some place divine. History repeats itself, I know that, but I didn't expect it to be this soon. I'll handle it better this time, or at least try my best to.

Dilemming: Person in a dilemma. Hehe.

Time passes quickly today when you're absorbed in your work. This afternoon's two-hour parachute making project overshot by two hours. Imagine rummaging through drawers, emptying containers, making the floor your workspace and creating from scratch. Oh, it's been absolute ages since I did craft work like that. Made a right mess - sticky tape, thread, bits of plastic everywhere and a box of staples that exploded like fireworks - but it's so lovely to revisit that childhood (:

Of Metaphors & Markov Chain

P{X(t+s) = j | X(s) = i, X(u) = x(u), for 0 <= u < s} = P{X(t+s) = j | X(s) = i}

The conditional distribution of the future X(t+s) given the present and the past X(u), 0 <= u < s, depends only on the present and is independent of the past.

Drew an unexpected life lesson during a statistics lecture on Continuous Time Markov Chain... and immediately wondered if I had been getting sufficient rest. In other news, spoke with an amazing friend about how the past two weeks have been and it's a great burden off my heart (: Praise God!

A large portion of today's linguistics tutorial comprised an in-depth discussion about the presuppositions surrounding "Where did you put the cheese?" Apart from being highly amused at the absurdity of it all, it also made me think of cheese on toast and grilled brie <3 right before lunch. (& ya'll know my take on school food...)

How To Kill A Person

(Not literally, of course.)

You start by smothering a flame. 

The one that makes you keep the faith

and wake up each day

believing 

it'll be better than yesterday

because today, you're Alive. 

Not just  any alive,

but Alive. 

Envelop that flame

 with rules, pressure, distractions, expectations and the 'right'-ations, 

but do it gradually 

with the polished air of detachment. 

Because that's exactly what happens. 

Let them catch hold of the oxygen

with their grubby hands and greedy ways.

Leave the barest minimum to nourish the flame; 

keep the embers precariously between 

asphyxiation and extinction.

You start by smothering a flame

with the best of intentions.

We spoke about how university changes a person, how we all - brighteyed & bushytailed - had grand plans for our duration of study, how we've veered so far off course, how we're swept up in the academic hurricane and how the fog has blurred our priorities. Perhaps not having plans might just be the best plan?

Music & Dialogue

Drifting towards older bands and genres I don't usually listen to after discovering Six Pence None the Richer and their awesome songs (particularly Kiss Me and There She Goes). Such dreamy lyrics and melodies.

Digression #1: Youtube is the modern day time vortex.

On a friend's recommendation, I watched the 1950 film, All About Eve yesterday afternoon, in between bouts of food collection for the Empress Dowager (Digression #2: There is now approximately $800 worth of Christmas food in the house for two extended families and probably enough leftover to last a couple more months.) Such pretty dialogue! Simple yet effective! Even the arguments are done in such a classy way haha. So easy to get enthralled by words... and then lament  my lack of fluency afterwards.

On a more sombre note, it's about time I start taking my academics a little more seriously :(