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Second-largest might not be second-best

So today we arrive on Portugese soil, a first for theboy and I. We had absolutely no inkling whatsoever about the language ('tis pretty serious when you arrive without knowing how to say 'Thank you' in the local language) and not much knowledge about the people and the culture.

But after half a day in Porto, the only thing that is definite about Portugal is the fact that it can be described in one word: Beautiful.

Taking the bus to the beach revealed bridges so high-up it felt like we were just midway between aeroplanes and the shore, an entire bus-side view of the ocean opening up as we were going at 90miles/hour, houses in stucco and sunwashed beige popping up like mushrooms amongst basil-like clumps of mountain vegetation... It kind of makes you lose words for a couple of minutes and then emerge from your thoughtfulness with a very intelligent Wahhh-wowww.

We picked the residential beach to begin our happy larking. I had to shout for theboy to hear me because the waves were crashing so hard on the rocks, and the water was a distinct blue-green. He ran like a young un to get his feet wet in the water, picking up conch shells and a particularly pretty rock that tickled his fancy. And I just lay on my beach towel lapping up some sun, my toes buried in a grainy mass of cool sand.

(Okay I realise the last paragraph sounded like a Joseph-Conrad-gone-happy piece of writing)

He actually opened a mussel to see what it looked like inside. And before doing so he approached me with a cautionary question: Do you think it will bite me?

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.

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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.

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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!

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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!

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

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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.

Dobry dobry dobry

I LOVE large, circley, chockfull-of-bread pretzel things,

as I do mother-of-Maciek's home-cranked apple crumble ,




and you all know I could choke a dog to death with my incessant hugs (yes I do love things that I cannot eat too),





and there is little not to love about fields of green and gold where if you tip-toe, you can see Ukraine.

So this probably means I love everything I got to see and do in Poland.



But what I reeeeeeally love about Poland, I think, is a boy who wears bow-ties and lets his mommy dress him.
The kind of boy who always looks too eager for school. Schmanzy smarty pants!

And the same kind of smarty pants who washes all your clothes for you while you're sleeping the morning away, and who quietly puts them on hangers all over the room to dry before tip-toeing out to school.

Must admit; always had a soft spot for the kind of things Poland still does offer.

It's all about the crust, dahh-ling!

(In the tiniest, tiniest voice humanly possible),

I want to eat Godma's cheesecake squares.

Now, that wasn't very subtle, was it?

(Meep!)

Look how the Swedish winds blew

Hello (single) ladies,

I have a prime candidate here to end your spinsterhood, and he is none other than Mr Ng Rongwei. You should trust me because for four days, I was living in the room next to him and we spent an average of 16 hours together daily.

Let me give you the Top 10 reasons why he should be the one and only candidate on your mind.

#1: He navigates when you are too lazy to. You never have to lift a finger to even find the general direction; good for lazy girls like Lirong and me and for hopeless navigators like our dear Jo Yeo.

#2: He subscribes to old school methods of love! Like throwing coins into the Lake of Love in Bruges to make a wish for love. He was unfazed even when I told him that the locals fish out coins people throw in at the end of the day.
#3: He subscribes to all your culinary recommendations, and always returns a resounding thumbs-up even when the afore-mentioned doesn't taste even remotely close to perfection. (Applies to waffles, limp cream gauferes, pasta, and cookies that you baked)
And he is easy to please too; a simple mua chee satisfies his chinese food craving. (This means a hole will not be emblazoned into your pockets should you decide to give him a rare treat)

#4: He zeroes in on your cravings and pays for your eventual enjoyment of said desired food. (Sometimes, you even have to fight him to pay for half the bill)

I was whining about how good all the chocolate looked in the little choc'lit shops in Bruges and he immediately bought a pick-and-mix box and insisted I choose most of the chocolates to put in them.



And of course I was the one who wanted ice-cream. Once more, he obliged.

#5: He believes in snail mail! 'Nuff said.

#6: He remembers how to make hearts out of bus tickets and the lo-mantic way of folding letters. On request, he can make cranes and boats too.

As demonstrated here with the placemat and napkins of a budget Italian restaurant.


#7: He trawls old towns to look for musical boxes for ahem-ahem. And he searches between rows of wooden puppets, porcelain dolls and fondue sets for that elusive toy zee entire day. And he buys bags for his 3 sisters and agonizes over what to get his mom. Dayum, you say!

#8: SPG alert! His looks allow you to boast that you snagged yourself a boyfriend of Peranakan/French/Portugese/Indian/Javanese/Whateverchapalang descent. You'd be lying, but he wouldn't be so mean to expose your little white lie.

#9: And best of all, HE LEAVES THE TOILET SEAT DOWN!

#10: Because I say so.


So look no further, really. This is YOUR man! You can apply by emailing either Lirong or me at sellingourindian@h10f.com.

Kind regards,

The friendly Management at H10F

Bacio Grande

Everyone in Bocconi is crazy. No actually, this comment extends only to SMU students on exchange there. (See, I spared Kiat!)

Or maybe it really IS something about the school that makes you go nutso. Something they add into the crappy cabonara they sell in the canteen? Or in the compulsory macchiatos they drink everyday? I mean, this is their wet-floor caution sign afterall... Hiak!

'Mmkay. Behind behind, get in the line.

By default, anyone who visits Milan and is hosted by this brady bunch of looneys will start act like something's not quite right up there. Like for like.

There's the strange girl who revs up her speech with 'Awe-SOME!' Emphasis and pitch, y'all. Oh Dee I love you even though not everything you exalt to be 'Damn cool, damn cool, damn cool!' is all that fabulous.

Sizzling Dee, just sizzling!

And I also love you Dee, because you braved the horrific encounter of the wrinkled old Italian stallion anatomy show with me.

And this is Mir; she owns the most formidable chest this side of town. She allowed Jie and I to cook her boyfriend in a pot of curry on his birthday card, which is just about the coolest thing a girlfriend can do for her significant other, right? Me likey Mir.

Mir and Steph; who now own Ferragamo shoes. And Celest; who now owns a pair of brown H&M slippers. Retailing at 4.90E.

On the second-last of my crazy nights there, we couldn't stop talking about boobies (I think it was sparked off by some jealousy at Mir's well-endowed chest compared to the barely-theres the rest of us plebeians possess). As Jie illustrates,

Though I don't know why her hand continues to be there even after the picture was taken.

A shout-out to my breast friends in Singapore. Sue and Dawn, remember the yank-and-pull?

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Don't know why I only have one decent shot with the one person who held the make-or-break position for my Milan trip, and she MADE it quite possibly the best time I ever had in Italy.

Ode to Loh Jieying, my cushy-tush fellow domestic goddess: Oh! How I adore thee. Oh! How I miss thee. (And the brown Bottega which will never be mine)

Bacio grande.

Happy birthday

to my love of all loves!

There was once a boy named Meng,
who was not your average Dunman Beng.
He lived for kaya spread on bread,
and soccer seemed to make him mad.

An accounting degree was what he sought,
and hard-core mugging he never forgot.
But throw in a nifty mahjong game,
and his energy would burst in flame!

Off Meng trooped to the land of Poles,
so very happy it would be cold.
But when it started getting hot,
he wondered if he'd sweat like snot.

He trooped off to see London Bridge
with faithful brothers he would not switch.
They feasted like kings ever joyfully
and helped boost Queen Beth's economy.

Then Berlin he ventured off to see,
to meet his crazy lil' lassie.
They ambled to the famous wall: pride of vandals
Took free rides on the subway: glorious scandal!

Of waffles, fries and lots of beer
his tummy settled in Belgium near.
Time with his lassie he didn't neglect,
though they did cheer Purple Anderlecht!.

To Sweden Meng took off again,
and that was not at all in vain.
He met his favourite faux Indian friend,
and burst his pockets in Viking land.

Paris was a brave venture,
for the damned French still made Meng shudder.
Once again they proved a bumbling mess,
so much resemblance to a white rat's ass.

Rome at Easter was the plan
for two girls, a gay and a normal man.
Pasta cabonara oh so tasty,
Meng lapped it up in a quick-wit frenzy.

Forza Lazio Alle Alle Alle! they yelled,
along with men who cursed and smelled.
T'was a game of force and fire,
poor Messina in a state so dire.

Wherever he goes, Meng needs to know
His little lassie misses him so.
She jumbles and mumbles some odd little rhymes
to wish him a Happy Birthday at the opportune time!

Little monkey!

My brother was using my parents' MSN account to talk to me. This is all I remember of the conversation:

01-Apr-07
3:55:09 PM
Cecilia and Nat
lots been going on and changing here
hope it doesnt change too much sigh
but dont worry bout me at least

01-Apr-07
3:55:35 PM
Celest*
guess when i come back in 6 mths, lots will have changed
are you fine and ok?

01-Apr-07
3:55:41 PM
Cecilia and Nat
haha the most i'll change is that i'll become more handsome haha

-

Miss the brother. Mom's right when she says he can talk Eeyore into a smile.

Who says Eastern Europe's always cold?

There is little that can beat having sunshine tossed earthward in generous abundance while one is being teased by the light spring breeze. All while having a good friend sit with you by the riverside. Oh that was Heidi and me alright; two bug-eyed girls with giant induced smiles and lots of time to spare.

Here's looking at you!

I see trees of green, red roses too

I see 'em bloom for me and you

And I think to myself,

What a wonderful world

I see skies of blue, clouds of white

The bright blessed days, and dark sacred nights

And I think to myself,

What a wonderful world!