Ask me something else

I said goodbye to,

Heidi
Nath
Ruben
David
Kin Yew
Lucia
Groel
Stefanie
Ania
Mathilda
Nathan
Esther
Bram
Jan
Maarten
Hendrik ...
.
.
.

And it still doesn't get any easier the more times I bid yet another person farewell.



Where did all my borrowed time go?

Snippets

Okay I am officially the world's worst blogger because I have no coordination whatsoever over my pictures and sequence of experiences.

Not that I really care anyway. Hurr hurr.

But now, every single day I say goodbye to at least one person, local or Erasmus-stamped like me; and every farewell dinner I attend draws me closer to my own departure date, I do feel a little more urgency to chronicle my little life in this town I've called home the past 5 months.

So here goes nothing; snippets of Leuven over the past 2 days. I smell a series coming along.

-

A noise outside my door led to the discovery of a crumpled note and a can of Mae's. Ruben thought it would be too difficult to say goodbye face-to-face, but when I eventually ran down the street just in time to catch the boy and his backpack, he had tears in his eyes.

My favourite Belgian and second boyfriend he will always be.

-

And a dagschotel with Uncle Bob is never dull, especially when it involves ritzy vegetarian food.

Probably the best bread in the world!

Eh do you think I can ask for more?

If my girlfriend ate as much bread as you, I, errr, I... ...

Grilled seitan gratin.

Eh can I scrape your dish? I like the charred bits.

One for the book, neighbour!

-

A happy Nath sparklers on a chocolate cake maketh.

Did you know that when Nath was born, it was the longest day of the year? 20 hours!

So said her mother to the rest of us.

Singaporeans unfamiliar with the concept of Midsummer are quite prone to misunderstanding that that means it was quite difficult to give birth to her.

No I didn't speak that thought out loud. Thank heavens!

-
Post-Cecemel and pre-dinner afternoon walks home, seem to bode for quirky finds.

-

Origin O' Leuven; why did I not discover you sooner? Organic and vegan are right up my alley; I know I ain't both things, but I sure as hell can try. I am more than fascinated with seitan and hummus, and if you can make quiche taste kickass for half the calories, I'm sold.

What is this?

And what is this?

What about this?

What's in this?

Chocoladeknapper? Yes, this one!

Origins, you really shouldn't put your yummies behind a glass casing. Because I can see them. And I can ask questions. And I tend to enquire what ingredients you used to make them look so yummy. And I can't read Dutch so I need you to translate for me. And my indecisiveness increases the more delectable food porn is.

Oh god Celest, stawwwpp.

1989

Exams begone! I am a happy girl again.

And when I am happy, I post pictures.

These were taken at Michael's new-old apartment in Warsaw. New because he just moved in, old because it was built for the good people living at Służew during communist rule.

I was completely fascinated with the flat; it was like I was reading Siberian Dream all over again. You can't verbally describe something to be 'so communist', but you sure can feel it. Maybe it's in the uniformed layouts, the pale walls washed down in cheap paint, the Russian refrigerators, or the faux parquet sheets laid over concrete. I don't know; it just is.












And no, Michael didn't think me nutters for snapping pictures of everything in the line of my vision. I think he was just about as fascinated as I was; afterall he was only 4 when the Russians left Poland and took their food queues with them.

Faded with age; always remembered.

Przepraszam

Economics is not my forte. Never has been, and it never will be. Perfect markets and perfect information do not exist in any world, and I have never managed to excel in anything I have no ability to believe in or comprehend.

D'oh.

I'd rather be in a place not so far away from where I am now, sitting on a swivel chair watching episodes of Dilbert while munching on Princessa bars.

Even more so, I wouldn't mind long walks through parks sectioned in fields of green alongside grey tiles, most possibly procured even before the communist era.

Polska, you certainly have left yourself in my heart.

Where are Lucy's diamonds?

So they said goodbye, with a phonecall at 7:02 in the morning.

& already, they are sorely missed.

Mom, Dad, Celest, and a thousand different words

Well-thumbed, my sidekick, well-thumbed.

Mommy takes a bite of Belgium!

Back in Leuven, Rossi's nondescript interiors pack a mighty fine punch,

and if you don't believe me, you have to believe my pasta. The thinnest tagliatale ever known to man and black truffles, y'all!

and if you still don't believe me, you have to believe Roberto Benigni; he of La Bella Vita fame. He whose famous face is tacked up on the wall behind that of my famous father.

Hell, if Rossi's is good enough for Benigni, it's good enough for me.

But okay, there's always a rotten apple in every basket. Here, my mother's dinner demonstrates that fact quite well. All that glistens is not gold; and in this case, it's oil.

Besides that little glitch and the mad scramble all day, I sit here feeling on top of the world :)

HAPPY IS MY NAME!

Zee parental unit is here! I'm the happiest girl in the world!! Mom burrowed me into a monster of a hug at the train station and I couldn't stop talking the entire time after that, a close competitor to Mommy because she had even more to tell me!

And looky at Mommy's loot from Paris!

A-hem! Add 3 Longchamp bags to that and errrr.... well I think you can just say that I am my mother's daughter! I was beyond ecstatic when she pulled the bags out of their velvet casings.

Beeeeeeeyond ecstatic, I tell you!

And Mommy got me a present too! Longchamp I love you! Mommy I love you even more!!

The tin, not just the packet!

It's 0215 in the morning. My textbook is more wide-open than my eyes are.

But all I can think about is


Why Umami, why!