Hot couture

Hola mi amigos!

Seville is a beautiful town and its architecture is so lush and decadent but the heat, the heat! It sticks to your skin and there's really no way to get rid of it when your hostel puts you up in a room that casts serious doubts on the issue of ventilation.

We've been mucking around at night because it's just too hot to do anything. I suppose this is all good now that I only have 12 days more before I return home to (even) muckier Singapore and I best be prepared for the tropics.

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!

Cheery Easter post, y'all

Bram's coming over to pick me up in 2 hours and I'll be headed to the world's worst airport to catch my flight to Rome. Ok la, maybe not the worst in the world, but definitely the worst in Belgium.

And stupid Ryanair should just stop telling its customers that the airport's called Brussels Charleroi Airport, when it does not lie anywhere near Brussels. And to get there from Brussels, it takes about 1 bloody hour on a winding bus. Just call it Charleroi Airport like it is, why can't you?

Some comments I found online while checking up on the transfer I have to make to Charleroi:

CRL has finally had a cash machine installed, an event proudly announced on its website as if it were a very special privilege granted to the passengers

The last time I flew into Charleroi it was a Sunday - the journey took me five hours and it's only 100 miles! I had to wait an hour for the bus to Charleroi train station. As the bus pulled in the train to Brussels pulled out and I had to wait another hour. At Brussels I had to wait about 50 minutes! I think the transport authorities in Belgium need to get their act together.

Boarding is invariably annoying as the hapless staff makes no attempt to control the free-for-all.

Clearly the authorities have no interest in you spending any money there. The smoke-infested cafeteria will not even accept local Belgian bank cards. They will, however, accept VISA on any purchase over 15euros! Thanks a lot! I boarded my flight starving and thirsty and feeling like a fool for not having packed a picnic before leaving home.

This airport is like a disused IKEA store cum warehouse.

-
Wah, thanks. Now I'm looking forward to being there at 430am and arriving one grumpy hippo in Rome.

And if Bram wasn't driving me there, I'd be arriving a grumpy, blood-thirsty hippo.

Because this is too funny not to post

Celest* says:
my friend hendrik looks like a younger version of josh hartnet
and a better-looking version too

*sueee: has a postcard from Vienna says:
but they need to be rich
poor ang mos are as useless as chinese ones
haha

Celest* says:
yeah hendrik is rich!!
ooh, should i have an affair?? HAHAHA

*sueee: has a postcard from Vienna says:
haha
well then
YES
AFFAIR AFFAIR

Celest* says:
oh man, i must snap a picture of him
he spent the whole lesson yesterday talking to me
and i earnestly had to give up listening to horizontal mergers to talk to him
HAHAHA

*sueee: has a postcard from Vienna says:
lol
yes snap a pic of him
so weiming can eat his heart out

Celest* says:
HAHA
eye candy every single class

*sueee: has a postcard from Vienna says:
I WANT
what wldnt i give now for a hot affair.
sigh.

Celest* says:
me first!!!

*sueee: has a postcard from Vienna says:
haha

Celest* says:
but babe
good news
HE HAS AN IDENTICAL TWIN!!!
hoho, a beefier version
but i prefer lean so you can have the beef

*sueee: has a postcard from Vienna says:
i'm not into beefy guys
i want lean
swap la
haha

Celest* says:
TOO BAD
me first
haha

*sueee: has a postcard from Vienna says:
damnit
now i seriously shall think abt gg for Belgium Homestay

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BEEEG Sidenote: B, you know I still love you! I just have eyes, that's all! <3

Separate your whites from your colours

So Heidi and I had to contribute half a load of whites each to take up a whole machine, Nath had to wash a massive load of predominantly blue laundry, and Anja had to wash her carpet of a towel, so off we went to the laundromat for the worse half of the afternoon.

But not before running into the funniest form of vandalism I've seen thus far. Outside the biggest Delhaize in Leuven, which is a supermarket well-known for its cheap meats.

Besides amusing ourselves with a jumbo pack of chocolate waffles, Anja whipped out her camera, as did I, to document some fun with the washing machines (Don't they always look so happy climbing on top of washing machines with short skirts and knee-high boots in MTVs?).

And today is a good day for funny signs and labels. Ever thought the fable of the tortoise and the hare would be immortalised on an ironing machine? Or in this version, the snail and the hare.

Or in my warped little head, it looks something like this.

I think doing too much laundry is bad for your sanity. So Belgian landlords, please take pity on us poor students and start putting washing machines in the homes you rent out. Thank you.