Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

There are some things that don't take a million words to describe. Snow, to a awestruck Asian girl, is one of these things.

So at first it was fun, decidedly so because it was my first winterwonderland experience. Until I realized I shared many similarities with this car: blanketed in snow with nowhere to go. The 15-minute walk from the busstop to my place seemed like an eternity, and the stupid bus was late for an hour before that. Leaving Heidi and I stranded at the busstop with no cover.

So lesson to be learnt, kids: Snow is only fun when you're indoors, sitting in front of a roaring heater, looking at the sheets of white blanket everything else outside your window.

House Papa

House papas make sure the house never runs out of toilet paper. And they also drag your 30kg luggage a good way down the Paters Oblaten hill while you lumber clumsily behind with your backpack, which is considerably lighter.


This is Kin Yew. The (my?) house papa. Here, he is posing serenely with the monster. It is a half-candid shot because he was supposed to look exhausted but totally misrepresented his intentions because he looks like an 80's chinese pin-up looking in the yonder distance.

This is the real deal. He was completely K-O'ed. But I'm not that mean okay, I repaid his kindness with 500 grams of bak kwa.

And house papas also let you stay in their rooms while they go away to Sweden. Not without instructions, of course.

Dear housepapa, what I want to know is this. Did you leave this note for me, or for our resident hunky Italian stag Giancarlo? Eh?

Paters Oblaten

The thing about finding your temporary accomodation in the lovely abode of a monastery is that you're surrounded by serenity and you have no choice but to find company within your own means. Especially when said monastery is at the top of an unlit hill, closer to the farming community and far away from a student's version of humanity.

Living there for 4 days showed me more than versions of the erratic Belgian weather; it taught me that I am living in the bosom of God's creations. And that beauty is even more profound in the quiet.

Every morning when I wake.

Bare.

The road up. On a gloriously sunny day (Very rare, these are).

Blue, blue skies. What more can you ask for, really?

Not very cool things

Oh my mama. I almost got burnt by the heater right next to the table. If that had happened I would have a deliciously sexy laceration on my upper thigh.

And I'm finishing up my stash of pineapple tarts exponentially faster than I planned to. Very soon I shall be kicking myself for my culinary folly.

And the worst jadaboohoo of the day would be that I bought a packet of frozen vegetarian mock-meat fillets thinking they were chicken breasts. They taste like rubber, but that might just be because I couldn't read the Dutch and French cooking instructions at the back of the box and I just threw it into the pan in a big show of agak-ness. From now on I will bring my dutch-english pocketbook wherever I go. Especially to the supermarket.

Home, for a little while

Waiting for the bus. With a very helpful Kin Yew and my very heavy suitcase.And a bunch of ladies who didn't seem too happy with the long wait.

Grey buildings are everywhere.

I like street corners. There's just something about them that brings more colour bursting from behind their bent facades, and of course the people and cars gathering to turn the bend.

And of course, what's a student town without studentish types of transport?

Firsts

First days are never easy. They're scary and dark and full of sharp corners that you will bump into if you're not looking sharp and polished.

Got into a bit of a fiasco while on transit at Frankfurt International, and since Mom and Weiming have had an earful of that already I shan't go into detail.

This nice Yugoslavian granny made the planeride so much better. I like her smile.

She reminds me of my grandmothers, both of them. I miss them very much.

And everyone at home too.

Two days,

and then I say farewell.

And I haven't finished packing, haven't collected my remaining documents from the Embassy, haven't altered my 5 ridiculously long pairs of jeans.

Godspeed.