I thought I would remember how to start this post, but blocking memories out seems to be one easy thing to do. It is like reading a book, you didn’t bookmark it, and then you start to recall which part of the story did you stop, before you try to flip through it to find it somewhere.

I could barely recall how to start. I know I can’t wait to purge all these.

17th March - 5th day in Europe

It was the hardest day of the trip, and for a good reason.

Despite that, it was also the best day of the trip so far.

I woke up, dropped the note, and said my disappointments, and goodbyes.

It was not a drama stunt, but it was the point that I have had enough of the lies that were concocted by them and knew the only way I could get out of them, is to walk.

It wasn’t that I was stupid. When there are aggressive people calling you names despite of the lies when you bust the truth, you just bite it down, until the day you can shove the truth in their face and wonder how they are gonna wriggle their ways through this again.

I could have pretended till the end of the trip but I didn’t.

He didn’t know that I knew.

I left the hotel, and wandered onto the streets of Rome, surprisingly barely remembering any of the disappointment from before, and started exploring on my own, with a map in the pocket.

I walked a couple of streets down and found Basilica di San Giovanni. And then ah, the easily distracted being of me was quick to be awed and barely remember anything lah!

Until, the desperate calls and “sincere, genuine, sentimental, pleading” SMSes started coming in.

I asked strangers to help me take pictures, and the moment I was on the streets alone I got more smiles and eye contacts (Italian men are soooooo seexxxxaaayyy).

I had forgotten some stuff and headed back to the hotel, I managed to shake him off as I ran across the street and saw him disappearing down the other way.

I went up and grabbed my stuff, and he returned. Bah!

There was no drama, no raised voices, no nothing. Just me saying what I had to say, with a smile and plenty of peace. What transpired was what came across as sweet and genuine then, and as he grabbed me suddenly and threw me into his arms saying those words, I was moronically charmed again. Sometimes, being stupid knows no boundaries.

But being stupid had its advantages. At least it took the mind off things easily, and that set the pace for one of the most liberated days of my adventure. Ignorance could be a bliss, I guess.

And I just finished writing about the hardest part of the trip. Now on to the real highlights!

The thing about taking the metro in Rome is that the ticket is one flat rate, and instead of taking it straight to the Ottaviano Station, we dropped off at the Termini Station, and searched for a long, long time for this shop.

In the subway, there was an accordian player playing in the cabin, and even travelling in the metro is such an art!

With the minimal Italian I could muster, we managed to find the place after asking for directions.

And of course, the main reason behind it is to do something really, really Italian - Exploring Rome on a vespa and getting to the other side of Rome across the river where Lavicant Vatican City is!

That took a bit of spontaneity since I probably have to be confident of my navigating skills.

The chap at the shop was nice to tell us we could drop it off in the evening and he would wait up for us. The original bike chosen was reluctant to start, and it was fated that we got the authentic Vespa instead, and I could pretend to be Audrey Hepburn for a day.

The vespa stopped at the traffic junction and I wasn’t sure the road to go. I managed to follow the road signs on the sides of the pretty buildings but couldn’t figure out the last bit of the route.

I asked the auntie who stopped next to us the way. She didn’t understand when I repeated “Vatican City” many times, before I rolled my tongue and purred, “Dove di Citta del Vaticano?“.

VOILAA!!! It worked magic and she gave a comprehensive “Ahh” before pointing out the directions. Straight, turn left.

And as we twirled a roundabout, and parked by the roadside… we got off and walked a short distance, made a little mistake of walking into the forbidden part of Vatican City, before the Swiss Guard (who is sibei handsome) smiled and told me I should be heading other way. We stopped to buy an icecream, and then -gasp- arrived at the preeminent structure before us.

I immediately whipped out my phone and messaged the one person I know who could totally understand the exhilaration of me standing before it, looking at the sunbeams raining down, feeling the urge to tear, and almost wanting to sprint into the square.

I. AM. IN. VATICAN. CITY. AND. I. AM. ABOUT. TO. SET. FOOT. INTO. THE. PLACE. THAT. HOLDS. MY. DREAM.

I WAS GOING TO SEE DAVID’S KKJ IN SISTINE CHAPEL!

One that is not Version 3.0 that doesn’t response to any chest compression and no amount of CPR could resuscitate it back to life.

Ahem.

I hopped and skipped beyond the entrance, and I truly understood what was “The happiest moment of my life” as described by an earlier SMS.

No words. No words can describe how minute I felt when surrounded by such an ethereally structure, a masterpiece so beautifully crafted standing right smack in the centre of St Peter’s Square.

You could spend an hour just standing there, admiring each and every single unique sculpture perched on top of St Peter’s Basilica.

When I stepped into the Basilica, I was shown what I didn’t think was possible. A rich mix of history, geniosity, and pure, dripping talent.

Where can possible such beautiful things exist one? I want to write stories behind each and every element, like the Saints framed in the walls, but I think the recap will never be finished.

So I will just briefly mention the altar with Bernini’s baldacchino in the centre of the basilica which is the bronze canopy seen in the collage above, and the dove right below the dome.

And of course, to see Michelangelo’s La Pieta from 1499 (top right corner), depicting body of Jesus on Mary’s lap after his cruxifition.

As we exited from the basilica, we walked down the galleries that led us a long way towards what I had been looking forward to - Sistine Chapel.

As everyone hurried from one gallery to another, I took my time as I strolled down the corridors, each and everyone of them a piece of art. Was greeted by what was termed “Great castration of Vatican City’s male statutes” in the Angels and Demons movie. Some of them were fortunate enough to have their men-bits intact, though some of them were sadly made enunchs.

The ceilings are extraordinary, and overwhelm with intricate details.

Had to wait for people to clear to take cheeky pictures like the one below where I pinched my nose…. “Who farted?”

.. and the one I mocked at the kkj.

It was more than an hour before I finally set foot into Sistine Chapel, where the huge mass of people were in there, just standing in awe, with their eyes plastered to the ceiling.

I held my breath and was just as overwhelmed.

Alas, it was a no-photography zone, and the rule-bender in me did the usual “act blur” tourist stun when I was stopped.

I then faced my camera up in my palm even though I was stopped and snapped away to get some of the shots above.

Unfortunately the shot of me inside Sistine Chapel was too blur to be posted. I even tried to point my finger up and join fingers with the man with 6 pecs but failed.

The journey around Vatican City had wrapped up fabulously with David’s kkj, and I left this beautiful state on a high, heading to the jump on the bike to venture to the next destination - Coliseum, where I navigated to perfectly without losing the way.

There is probably not much to talk about the Coliseum that people don’t already know, but to set foot into somewhere more than 1900 years-old, and visualising the brutality that used to take place here, is truly an experience. And it stood the test of time, despite part of it collapsed during an earthquake in 1349. Because of its age, it had seen through different histories throughout the years.

It is actually smaller than I had thought it would be. The ground that covered the arena was removed to reveal the tunnels beneath that used to house the gladiators and animals before each fight. Many of them were killed to entertain the Romans in ancient times, and part of the Coliseum was actually converted to be a cemetery.

It was freaking cold when the breeze came in as you stood at the top of the spectator stand. My teeth were chattering.

As we munched on a hotdog and headed towards the parked bike, we had pretty much covered the must-sees, and we headed back to the heart of Rome, and see where it brings us.

We rode to a small street (again!), going against traffic, before we saw Pantheon right before us. Told you about surprises round the corners when you least expected it.

U-turn back and parked the Vespa next to a pretty eatery.. which we eventually saw Julia Roberts park hers at the exact same spot in Duplicity.

A British tourist struck up a conversation with us as we entered Pantheon, which was erected in 129AD. Pantheon, not the tourist. He was marvelling at how amazing it is for a building this well preserved and it is almost 2000 years old!

The thing about me is, I cannot imagine and really believe that human’s history can be well-documented since so long ago, let alone to be still be able to stand right in the centre of it.

The interior of Pantheon is described as:

The building is circular with a portico of three ranks of huge granite Corinthian columns (eight in the first rank and two groups of four behind) under a pediment opening into the rotunda, under a coffered, concrete dome, with a central opening (oculus) open to the sky. The Pantheon is the oldest large-scale dome in Rome. The height to the oculus and the diameter of the interior circle are the same, 43.3 metres (142 ft). A rectangular structure links the portico with the rotunda. It is one of the best preserved of all Roman buildings. It has been in continuous use throughout its history.

Which makes me wonder what will happen when it rains?

It is also where Raphael’s tomb lies, with his fiance right beside him.

We continued the tour on the Vespa as the evening set in.

We stopped by the Tiber (Tevere) - the river that divides Rome. Many bridges arch over it and it was just gorgeous in the evening.

We went round and round and round Piazza del Popolo just to get back to the right traffic way.

Rounded up the evening with more travelling on the road and admire the architectural beauty of Rome, passing various churches, monuments, fountains, squeezing in and out of the traffic which was comparable to Johorians’.

Made our way back to the rental shop, stopped by a nice, cosy restaurant for dinner.

With me ordering Carbonara again to “try my luck” and ended up vastly disappointed yet again.

Walked to the pharmacy to get some novelty item, before heading back to the hotel by metro.

Rested early as the next day was one that was planned impromptu-ly (at the expense of Firenze), and was shocked by the news of Natasha Richardson’s injury on the television.

And the day ended with me chewing on the ample memories this beautiful city has left me with.

As the recap goes on, the harder it gets, like a reluctant story to be told.

It was an early Monday morning, awfully cold, when we headed to Stansted Airport at 6ish, passing by various landmarks in London, glowing in the morning rays.

Breakfast was done in the queue to pay for luggage check-in, and the incompetence and rudeness of Ryanair staff made me wonder if they only employ the worst.

Of course, I was thrilled to have Krispy Kreme for breakfast (glazed!) accompanied by orange juice.

By the time we finally check-in and made a mad dash to the gate, we reached it 5 minutes before the supposed take off.

Unfortunately, delays are just part and parcel of budget airlines.

Like I had stated before, not that this disclaimer has to go on and on, the recap was what was supposed to be penned, but I didn’t get the chance to do so.

Thus, I would recall it as the events unfold.

The trip was to celebrate his 28th, and the first couple of days in London set it up for a rather fantastic trip.

The turning point was just before boarding when an SMS had came in, cleverly disguised in an unknown number.

Perhaps you would have already read it in the post way back then, but it was clearly the point that I knew that goodbye wasn’t far. It is easier that way. To plan your goodbye, enjoy unbridled-ly, and know very well that turning a blind eye to all the lies spun by both of them could only.. get you this far.

Anyway. I digress. Can you imagine 2 idiots smoking besides a fuelling plane?

I sat on the plane, and planned my escape route. What was frustrating is how it was glaringly obvious, yet no admissions.

And perhaps, that was the turning point.

When you decide to lose all, and ready to do so, it was actually the point when you can liberate yourself to truly understand “carpe diem“.

I bit my lip and willed it away.

3 and half hour later, I was in Italy’s embrace when we touched down at Ciampino Airport.

I thought it wasn’t gonna be easy but the charm and beauty of Italy soon made it so much easier.

I was romancing Roma. I was just so… moved to be there. And I wasn’t kidding I go everywhere and I had tears in my eyes cos I was just so awed.

I am such a pussy. Pfft.

It was a shuttle bus that took us to the Termini Stazione, and my fabulous skills of reading the map meant I could navigate around the small roads and reach the hotel with plenty of easy. Though I have to say with that distance, walking was probably not advised with the luggage.

Just wanted to chill a little, and sat by the windowside and had a breather and watch the Italian crowd buzzed by in the late afternoon in Rome.

I wrote down my thoughts.

I could feel the air turning chilly as evening approached.

Armed with a map, we ventured out into the openness of Rome, not knowing what to expect, as we hadn’t seen anything impressive on our journey from the airport…

Much of the walls were vandalized by graffiti, and I was wondering if Rome was going to disappoint me with my high expectations of it.

But Rome is a city full of surprises. When you turn from a street into a smaller, seemingly quieter street, a few steps more will bring you to the most beautiful sights ever.

The very first one that we got to, was an abandoned park near the hotel, and we decided to walk up the steps.

Little did we know, the sight that would greet us was… the Roman Coliseum in its full glory in the evening sun.

We stopped by a restaurant just opposite the road, and had the nicest Pepperoni pizza ever (there is a picture of me in the 2nd collage sitting at the restaurant).

As it was late in the afternoon, touring it wasn’t an option since the ticket booth was closed, but it was magnificently impressive just to be standing at its foot and imagine Russell Crowe, Joaquin Phoenix and Angelina Jolie in there re-enacting Gladiator.

It was so beautiful.

And there were Nonny horses out there, which wouldn’t stop nibbling my buttons. The ones on my coat.

The Coliseum changes its colour from grey, to orangey.. with the white-washed Arch of Constantine erected stoically by its side.

A walk further down the road led to the Roman Forum, where the ruins and pillars could be seen and you need a little imagination to piece everything together to form a majestic picture of the past.

A statue of Julius Caesar was not far from it, and it was adorned by flowers and all… as he was assassinated on 15th March, 44 BC at the forum, thus a day before was his death anniversary.

It wasn’t too long a walk before we reached a busy junction and a majestic pure-white marble building that resembles a wedding cake.

Piazza Venezia was where we found ourselves. The piazza is at the foot of the Capitoline Hill and near the Roman Forum. It is dominated by the imposing Monument to Vittorio Emanuele II. The building was much more contemporary compared to the others with rich history, and was considered “imposing” and being despised by the Romans.

And the junction in front of it is one tough bitch to cross.

Walked by various, pretty cathedrals and they were all, absolutely gorgeous.

We walked down a typical Italian backstreet, and saw the busy stalls screaming out to tourists.. and I found myself very attracted to the yellow streets.

It was when I turned my head as I came to the end of the street, that I realised I was standing in front of one of the most beautiful sights ever.

The Trevi Fountain!

It is so, so, so, so beautiful in the night. I cupped my face in disbelief and stood there to stare at the exquisite details for a long, long while.

A coin was tossed into the fountain. That should bring me back someday, hopefully with my parents and Minibean.

My brilliant navigating skills brought me to Spanish steps! Lotsa people were gathered there, though the companion was less than thrilled to realise it was literally steps that seemed insignificant to him.

It is the longest and widest staircase in Europe, but I guess for people who grow up in HDB, no staircase could be longer than what we see everyday.

Then again, HDB flats don’t have staircases which are almost 300 years old.

Passed the Palazzo Barberini which now serves as a gallery and museum, with some of Raphael’s work in there.

Trinità dei Monti was already closed by the time we got to the top of the stairs, and from there, we took the route down the slope and brought us to Triton Fountain by Bernini! A merman!

I sat by the side of the fountain for a long, long while, before heading over to one of the restaurants across the road for some fabulous Italian food.

I was determined to try Carbonara but it didn’t turn out the way I thought it would be. It was authentic Italian style but uh.. was a little salty and dry for my liking.

Nonetheless, it was a nice, cosy meal, and pretty affordable.

Left the seat and tried to convey through gestures that I wanted a cake with a candle and the staff were really fabulous with pulling it off though I didn’t think they would understand my instructions.

It was then late as we strutted down the very chilly Roma streets, before we hopped on a cab that brought us half the map across the one in our hands.

We walked half of the map that evening.

And gee, I can’t stop gushing how beautiful Rome is. Especially at night.

The night didn’t end too late, and chilling in the room was tainted by the stench from the socks.

It was the night that the slightly ajar window allowed too much cold to seep in, and I woke constantly to find a warm spot to burrow into.

Goodnight Rome.

Had dinner with the teacher today.

Who laments about how I kept on talking about my chiropractor, and my relentless mentions of men of various professions.

Then he kinda grumbled I never wrote anything about him before.

Besides the usual student-teacher kinky fetish(that’s why I still have some school uniforms stash away somewhere hahaha!), I really don’t know what to write.

And IT IS VERY SALAH TO WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT SOMEONE I KNOW LAH!

Thanks for dinner. -beams-

Did you get any of those animal instinct from Night Safari tonight? Giggles.

I was looking for an one-off fling, and perhaps look for some answers I have been looking for.

With the initial bad experiences, I was ready to just stand my ground, to make sure it was just… well,  a fling.

I can do it, I told myself. I can be firm. I will look elsewhere after this.

When he walked through the door and saw a heaving me, I held my breath and stared for a second longer than I should. I wasn’t sure if he caught the shock in my eyes like that of a deer knowing it had came head-on with the hunter, and its doom looming.

That’s it. I knew it. I had wavered. I was a gone case.. I was ready to start this long-term relationship and make the plunge. No more resilience…. no room for doubts. His

The accent, the charming eyes, and he is…for the lack of better words.. fucking, fucking hot.

I tried to be as disconnected as I could be. But when he ran his hands up from my hips and work his work up slowly up to my neck.. the tingling sensations crept quickly down my spine (what an irony…), and I relaxed like I hadn’t in a while.

I was actually started to feel a little shy when I felt his hand dancing on my bare skin. I bet my last dollar that if I was a guy (and gay), I would be having a hard-on.

The most candid part was when we spoke about my allergy to alcohol and it was plenty of sympathy in his eyes when I elaborated on the effects of alcohol in me.

And then, I asked myself, am I ready for this?

Am I too irrational? Am I too quick to jump into this…… just because he is so droolworthy.

But knowing how broken and screwed I am, I know he can somewhat heal me.

I tell you ah, medical profession these days are freaking evil. They get the cutest doctors and that make sure suckers like me will keep on going back.

And ladies, if you are looking for someone to ask you to lie down and wait for him, lifting your legs high in the air and then run his fingers up and down your body…. as your mind and imagination do the dirty, you should be looking for a chiropractic. Maybe you will get a surprise like me.

But I scared lah! I can imagine every trip how tense I will be just to exercise that amount of self-control. Having a bad back already like that, can you imagine how ravenous I will be when his magical touch gets me better?! I will eat him up lor! Like, alive!

Tsk tsk, very dangerous.

So, after being diagnose of a shorter right leg due to a shift in my hip (thus my hip is twisted), I would need paddings in my shoes. Bra paddings could possibly be of multi-purposes hereonforth.

My neck ligament is screwed, thus if you see me now, my neck will probably be misaligned to my body and might drop off anytime. Okay fine, it is just bent too forward, causing neck aches and nerve headaches. Frankly, I could see the worsening angle of my neck in pictures.

My torso is also slightly twisted, and I was trying to imagine him putting his weight on me trying to align it. Giggles.

My body weight shift shows I place most of my weight on my left leg.

Of cos, my slipped disc issue.

Okay, I have decided. I need chiropractic treatment afterall.

Sigh. I just need to exercise more self control, and perhaps, some new batteries.

There were plans to get onto one of those cheesy tour buses, meet up with the chaps, return to the town I used to stay, Chinatown… and all.

Lazed in bed a little to rid of the jet-lag, before we woke up for a traditional English breakfast.

Day 2 - Of shopping and the countryside

We headed to one of the cafes round the corner and kickstarted the day with a pot of hot tea and chocolate croissant (I used to have that for breakfast with orange juice!).

Before we knew it, we were on our way to Bicester Village for some shopping. We had thought it was gonna be a short distant trip but didn’t expect it to be almost 2 hours away (with Aunty Dorene’s driving that is).

Travelled half the way in the sun “topless”, listening to the radio, and I remember hearing Leona Lewis’ “Run” twice on the journey, and I told myself if I heard it another time on the radio(to and fro), I know it was a sign I was doing something right.

It then got too cold and we stopped halfway to dress the car, but we still saw endless stretch of the blue skies as we sped down the highway.

I didn’t get to hear it for a third time.

I was apprehensive about shopping, cos I didn’t wanna waste the time shopping during the trip, and to travel that distance was pretty time-wasting, or so I thought.

As I got there, the monster within was unleashed.

It was a cluster of outlet stores of branded gear, and with pounds at an all-time low, most of them are considered awesome bargains.

I tried very hard to control, and by the end of the day at 5.30pm, the total damage include: 2 pairs of Puma shoes, a burberry zipped throwover for Minibean, 2 matching Burberry scarf, a set of suit (for him), 2 shirts (for him), a jumper (for him), a pair of Gucci sunglasses, and my favourite buy - a red, hot Burberry trenchcoat, the best buy - Tag Heuer Alter-Ego watch.

I resisted the temptation to bag myself a pair of Alexandra McQueen or a Dior bag.

All the prices were pretty reasonable, and I paid slightly less than S$850 for the watch, the most expensive buy of all. The scarf was $29.90 pounds each with the exchange rate at slightly less than 2.2.

It wasn’t easy for me to decide to splurge, but hey, we travelled the distance, might as well right? I mean, if I didn’t buy anything, I would have wasted an entire day. Ahem.

We packed the boot before we set off for the return journey, and a road sign pointing us towards Blenheim Palace prompted us to embark on an adventure, looking for the Palace we had never been to before.

It took us quite a while, with the help of the GPS, before we finally found the quaint palace as the sun was setting.

It was definitely worthwhile as we found ourselves in Oxfordshire, a town that is so cute and pretty that I don’t know how else to describe it.

It is nothing you would find in London or any other European places for that matter (well uh… cos I have never been to much lah!)… it is just very extraordinary.

We had wanted to rush to the palace before the place is closed, thus we had said we would return to the town later, but it was dark by the time we returned to the town and I didn’t manage to capture its beauty.

As we got off from the car, the guards told us that the palace was closed, and apparently there was gonna be a wedding held there. Wah, then like that sure great place to find rich and successful men. Ahem.

The tourist tag proved to be useful during a random conversation struck up with the guards and an appreciative grin as he gave the go-ahead for us to walk round the park towards the palace sealed the deal.

It definitely ain’t as majestic as any other palaces we had seen before, but the serenity of the place, the spacious vast, and how the 2000 acre park was highlighted by the evening sun made the place absolutely gorgeous.

There was a big path that hugs the lake in its embrace, and it was an hour and a half later, before we finally returned to a darken entrance, where the car was parked.

Blenheim Palace is the birthplace and ancestral home of Sir Winston Churchill a.k.a. the Bulldog and is around 300 years old.

It was the perfect place to take in the autumn’s grace.

On the far left you could vaguely see “The Grand Bridge“.

It got chilly as we reached almost the far end of the park and I was just glad my newest purchase came in handy as I threw it over the other coat.

The piercing wind to the face made me feel like a piece of frozen meat.

We rushed back to London in time for a late dinner, and had authentic Naplese Italian food with Brendan joining us. The restaurant was buzzing with life even though it was no longer early. A flashing thought came to mind of how I could really get used to this.

It was the first time I met Brendan, and he’s a charmer.

By the time we got back, I remember the weather took a dip and the temperature plunged even lower to an unexpected 3 degrees.

The day ended with some light reading, and then it was lights off.

***

Day 3 - Of the familiar, and the casino

Woke up and made a dash to one of my favourite places - Tower of London, which overlooks the London Bridge. It has something to do with my fascination of the monarchy, especially King Henry VIII.

Took the tube and bought an oyster card that didn’t survive more than 15 minutes before we lost it in the tube.

There was already a huge queue at the ticket booth, before we entered into the Palace grounds, exploring different towers, and looking at the crown jewels.

The myths behind it, gave it a shroud of mystery. Tower of London is one of the world’s most haunted site.

It was pretty much touch and go, before we headed to Leicester Square (my weekly hang-out place!) to meet Aunty Dorene, Lynette and Wei for dim sum lunch at Yauatcha. It was one of those hip restaurants with fusion dim sum, and it was of a really interesting concept.

It was another day of fabulous weather with the day not too cold, and the famous gloomy weather stayed away.

We walked from Chinatown, trying to figure out the way in Soho, unfortunately getting ourselves lost. I was smart to dispatch the guy to ask for directions, since the street was littered with guys walking hand in hand. I didn’t think I would have much luck asking for directions. Hurhurhur.

We managed to find the place finally and after lunch, we walked the way down Oxford Street to Selfridges!

Unfortunately, nothing caught my fancy and I survived Selfridges without hurting my wallet. Helped someone bought a Miu miu and an LV bag. Despite how they weren’t meant for myself, it still felt good to be strutting out with those fancy paperbags.

It was in the evening when we were dropped off at Westminster Cathedral, and we explored the place a little, before we walked to Victoria Station (where I used to have to take trains back to Croydon, and vice versa) to grab a map.

It was then a long walk to Buckingham Palace to admire its full glory in the night.

We hang around Victoria Memorial, where the Angels of Truth, Justice and Charity were at.

It was great just to chill and watch the sight in its orangey hue.

By then, it was time to head back to Victoria and meet the loveliest guys for dinner!

Met up with YL, Wenwei, Huina, Suzanne and Uncle Ben at a small eatery where we had duck noodles. The last time I met them (YL, Wenwei and Huina) in the country was 11 years back in Shrewsbury/Birmingham when I made a solo trip to visit them, and I remember I got drunk from lager.

But the last time I met up with this bunch of awesome guys were during Wenwei’s wedding, and we had so much fun.

There are not many weddings people attend and feel that the marriage could last, thus theirs was one that was truly memorable and touching, because it was so genuinely lovely.

It was the highlight of the trip to get to meet up with them and such a cosy dinner was more than enough

Uncle Ben then dropped Suzanne to take a bus back to Nottingham(later did I know Suzanne is actually Lynette’s friend!), before we all squeezed into his car to head to Leicester Square.

We parked at this dark carpark with a car shivering in the cold, before you see 2 faces emerging from the dark. I asked if they wanna walk up and take a closer look, but they say they would cover me should I get attacked for watching a live show.

I doubt so you know, since they probably have to like get dressed and get off the car or else they would really freeze.

They dared me to go up and take a picture instead, but I have no balls.

Came to the junction of Piccadilly Circus and took the obligatory picture of the neon-lights.

When we get to Leicester Square, the bad influence caused me to lose my virginity in the casino! The Empire Casino, which apparently luuuuurrrrrrvvvvess Chinese customers.

And it feels good to be asked to check our IDs just to make sure we were all above 18. Ahem.

The old pals decided to pool in and go for red/black, and luck was obviously not on their side.

I betted on roulette for the first time, and we spent a great deal of the night in there, and surprisingly, were in the black when we called it a night.

When the others decided to leave, we stayed on and continued on till it was late. It was perhaps 1am when we finally left the casino on a very cold night.

As we made our way back to Kensington on the cab, I remember I was incredibly tired as my hair was stroke with tiny pecks planted as I took a short nap. I remember how good it felt, and also painfully aware how short-lived it would be.

After a hot shower, it was plenty of scurrying to pack for next morning’s flight, before a short 4-hours sleep was caught.

And then, a new journey begun.

That is how long my new relationship is supposed to last. I do not know what to make of him on our first meeting, though I was determined not to be, uhm, ahem, penetrated. Figuratively, of course.

He sat across me yesterday as he made his observation about me.. I remember looking away most of the time, with my eyes up on their far left, not wanting to hold his gaze.

“You sound so detached.. and you don’t seem to have much emotions as you talk through things, which is pretty unusual.”

I shrugged and smiled dryly.

“I believe you have stashed your memories somewhere, and they will come out once in a while, and that perhaps explains why you are so forgetful these days, you don’t want to remember,” he commented.

I laughed and said that forgetfulness and clumsiness is probably just.. uh.. me.

“It is good to be forgetful ah,” I chimed with a girl pout and threw in a giggle for good measures.

Ai yah, this too, shall past. Like all things. Like many things in the past, and many people and things cease to matter, and indifference sets in. Just look beyond that timeline and hang on till then, and that will do. Or at least for me, cos I cannot control what others continue to feel. I continued crisply and matter-of-factly.

Surprisingly, he had asked to see me again soon. Next week, he said. I didn’t think he would want to see me for a while, knowing how he works.

I wouldn’t be around though.

“You need to learn how to relax, and not trying to live up to everyone’s expectations,” he quipped. “You perhaps don’t realise, but you are actually a strong person.”

I gave a crooked smile and looked up, with a pitch higher than usual “Of course. I am just tired, that’s all.”

That’s all you wanna see from me, so there goes.

*Gives fabulous, mega-watt grin*

See ya, when I get back.

On a totally unrelated note, I heard someone really charismatic saying “ARRRRRGGGHHHHHH” today. As in, the actual way it should be pronounced. And it was so sexy that I stared at him for a second longer after he said it with his tongue rolled.

My back and neck are “ganging within themselves” and killing me, and I am cold-sweating in the scorching heat.. And I possibly will need to get X-rays done tomorrow.

Am away for training for the entire workday today, and when I reached the venue, my boss’ boss was working in an individual room. I joined him and waited for the next break before joining the training.

We got on talking and from the comments he made, I was pretty surprised with his views on me, of course, more of a personal perspective. Hahaha.

We seldom talk, and it was one of the rare occasions for me to share that “insight”.

And then, he said, “Maybe I should introduce my brother to you.”

42 year-old accountant.

“Wah, who do you want to sabotage?”

I jokingly asked if he was trying to ruin his brother’s life. Then he told me how poor thing his brother was, and the motherly instinct in me kicked in.

So I kept quiet about how I jokingly told colleagues that Minibean will grow up learning how to “break ‘em all“.

Anyway. I couldn’t possibly ask, “Is he cute? Is his kkj big?“.

If I lose my job soon, you can probably guess why. Giggles.

This is perhaps the hardest to churn amongst all the memories remapping in recent days, which has sat in my drafts for days.

March 2009. London & Rome.

It would have been different if this was written fresh from the experience, or at any point in the past 2 and half months.

Then various considerations came up as I did the collages, of places I had been, the feeeeeeling each place left me with, and the joy of the experiences.

For the fear of being the post being misconstrued, it is one hardest to start on, and the pictures went through lotsa editing. Initially, it was plenty of cropping. Then there came a point cropping doesn’t work, as most pictures of places are not solo ones, and once cropped, it could have been Sentosa and it wouldn’t be any different. Then faces were blacked out by angry paintbrush from the tools of Photoshop.. then this and that.

And then you realise, some shared memories cannot be blacked out and I have to accept that.

Then again, a friend said she wouldn’t friend me if I wishy-washy think so much what others think, cough cough, and I am not good with emotional blackmails, remember (you win!! I looser!)?

Putting all things aside, I did go all out to enjoy myself during the trip, as I had planned it to be one where I would say goodbye. It hadn’t been that way, as I had wanted to roam around Europe with some fabulous friends, and then despite a rough patch, he was in on the trip too.

Enough of that. Cos at the end of it all, like the previous posts, I could chew on the memories with a smile as if it was still back then, and the compartmentalising works pretty well as I relive what I would have written back then and pick myself out from “now”.

It would be a journalling of what the trip had meant to me, and how I actually felt during the trip.

Like I had said, it was good to be back, with or without.

***

Day 1

Everytime I return to the cold, cold Europe, I feel like a little girl all over again. The glee, the excitement, the rush.. and the eagerness to walk down paths I was once so familiar with.

I wonder if Alice felt the same way when she was in wonderland.

Somehow I love to take pictures as the plane takes off… as if it could capture some sort of anticipation, and the silliness of it all. Or maybe, it shows that I was leaving a part of me, the burdened part behind, and recharging myself with renewed zest for adventures.

Almost missed the flight cos spent some time around Terminal 3 shopping for books and having breakfast at Burger King… and reaching a clean, cleared gate as the last passengers to board.

I was even blogging on the plane through my phone, and sending messages to Wifey and Potato, until Potato screamed at me over SMS to switch off my phone.

Spent much of the flight catching movies on Krisworld. The Duchess (I remember watching this vividly cos I just love period movies), Twilight, Twilight, Twilight, part of Slumdog millionaire again, but I didn’t manage to sit through Australia.

13 hours later, I looked out of the window and recognised the London Eye, the London Bridge, and the many intimate landmarks that made London, London.

The moment I landed at Heathrow, the lovely English accent from the young immigration officer made me go weak in the knees. Before I knew it, I was speaking in an annoying twang just for the good fun of it.

The standard questions were asked, about where I was staying, purpose of visit and all, and he looked up with a smile and asked, “Where did you learn your English? Have you been here before?“.

“I used to stay here a decade ago.”

Whose place will you be staying at? I pointed to the chap standing at the next booth, “His aunt’s place, South Kensington.”

The 2 immigration officers looked at each other, “Oh, they are together.”

“Ahh.. you should have said you are with your boyfriend.”

Dang! I shrugged. I didn’t manage to explain things, but it was pretty obvious I wasn’t gonna get lucky on the trip.

And I wasn’t about to snag an officer cap in UK.

Shopped for a bottle of perfume to add to my evergrowing collection, since I had absent-mindedly forgotten mine since I only packed the night before.

As I stepped into the open for a much needed fag, the sliding doors (one of my favourite movies is Sliding doors, which I watched in this very country!) liberated me into the cold, frosty air.

I literally skipped into the open and clapped my hands, whispering, “Yay! I’m back!” with a big, wide grin, promptly whipping out my camera to show a tired me in the cold… it shouts, “LONDON!!!“.

And then it was a short walk to the Heathrow station to wait for a Heathrow Express train which will bring us to central London with 15 minutes.

The messages then started coming in from the lads asking if we would be out partying tonight. As it might be a little rude to Aunty Dorene, I took a raincheck and said I might join them for late-night out instead.

15 minutes later, we were at Paddington station, and the buzz from the commuters gave me a buzz!

Aunty Dorene picked us up in her car, and had the hood down. It was freezing but I was just glad to breathe the crisp, cold air, seeing the signature red buses upclose at the back of the convertible.

We stopped by to grab some yohgurt before heading back to hers. The familiar sight of the pubs at the corners warmed me up already.

And Imperial College in sight, there were a few of weekends we bunked over at friends’ hostel here.

The moment we stepped in and unpacked briefly, it was within minutes the notebook was out to make great use of the wifi to see what I had missed at work.

I was given a classic black Helmut Lang coat, which proved to be a staple for the rest of the trip. I was poorly packed for the trip.

Freshened up, showered, slipped on the netted stockings and boots, and we were dressed for a night out. Black and Blue was where we had our dinner, and the warm interior was fast inducing the jetlag in me.

I was in a perpetual daze over dinner, with Suki and the young ladies joining us, and had to walk out of the restaurant a few times just to freeze myself awake.

I couldn’t remember much of the dinner. I didn’t manage to eat much (it was almost breakfast in Singapore!) cos the slab of meat was intimidatingly huge. The place was packed brim with students from nearby colleges. And with the exchange rate at an almost all-time low, the food was pretty cheap actually.

We then headed out for cruising in central London, and we were outside Buddha Bar (the chic chic IT place), but weren’t really interested to head in. I knew I wouldn’t be able to join the other lads that night.

Had to scrap the plans of strolling down Embankment at night, though we did stop briefly to soak in the night view, before we continued driving round Leicester Square, Westminster, Knightsbridge.

Since we weren’t exactly London virgins, it was mostly touch and go before we rounded back for the cosy duvet. I don’t remember feeling jetlag much in the past, but it could just be age catching up with me.

The adrenalin and hype by the end of the night was replaced by plenty of contentment, and I would be glad to just stay indoors and explore the neighbourhood and blend in with the locals.

There was no itinery, just the way I like it.

Though if there were tickets, I would probably spending the night in Manchester and not London. But somehow whatever matches I missed are always for the better - they save me the heartaches.

I burrowed into the duvet having goosebumps all over as the cold sept in from the balcony’s door.

It smells different. It smells like liberation, and plenty of peace.

Goodnight Day 1.

Rotten apples are trending topics these days.

Today, one was thrown in a dear friend’s way.

Unfortunately, she had to deal with the worm in the apple, sometimes worming into the apple, sometimes poking its head out in subtle mockery.

Tsk tsk, and then I realised many people around me have to deal with the rotten apples, with worms thrown in.

The script, the lines, the responses, the reactions.. all just seem so eerily familiar.

It is natural to feel protective.

Sometimes, there just ain’t absolute answers, especially when worms are just glad to be worms.

Warning: Graphic (not really but oh well) pictures below and not suited for the faint-hearted.

I finally managed to change my blog template after struggling with it for the longest time.  Don’t be fooled by its simplicity, cos I just can’t seem to sort out the not-so-nice comment form, and it took me hours, and it still was going nowhere. And the font looks a tad too small on my notebook,

Did some changes here and there, and all in all, a refreshing change.

A weekend that ended too soon, without much fanfare, and these days I find Sundays evil-er than Mondays. I am already looking forward to the weekend with a busy week panning out for me. I thought I was freed last week after the dreadful presentation, but no difference leh!

Anyway.

The episode of the unfortunate finger!

3 weeks after the fateful dive, the pain was getting worse though a long course of antibiotics made the swelling went away.

My finger couldn’t move without hurting, and even just lifting my arm up would trigger a shooting pain.

As usual, most discounted it as a simple, girlie whine.

Hmphf.

So, after getting a “2nd opinion”, it was suggested that I get an x-ray done. Initially I rejected the idea totally thinking it was too over the top (okay, fine, I was also terribly resentment of the idea that my finger would be cut open), and it was suggested that it was highly unlikely there would be anything showing up.

So…. what had supposed to be a quick drop-in during lunch time, showed exactly what was wrong.

Enlarge the X-ray film and you could see a foreign object on the left side next to the bone.

After a fast and furious referral letter, I was at SGH A & E waiting to see a hand surgeon.

First, they tested my fingers’ response with a needle and the masked lady asked, “Can you feel it?” I felt the prick and said yes, but I think because I didn’t yelp girlie-ly, she poked again, harder this time until it bled and I looked at her bewildered-ly and answered a louder yes.

I think I should have screamed like a girl when she pricked as hard for the rest of the fingers.

Then, they gave me a jab when I was on the phone with a business call. Because I didn’t yelp, the needle went in all the way and I could feel the sour pain in my bone.

Lesson learnt. Yelp and scream next time when someone prick you. They just wanna see you hurt.

In the room, there was a patch of blood on the floor with a piece of discarded tissue. Tsk tsk. If I didn’t know better, I would think I was visiting some quack.

The hand surgeon saw me next (seen below talking on the phone to my 2nd opinion) and she was coincidentally common friends to those whom I went diving with. In the beginning I was jittery, and I started joking with the nurses when I went into the OT.

And I was morbidly so curious that I asked the doctor for permission to take pictures while she worked on my hand.

I thought I might faint, but I was getting more curious and started to half sit up to see her inject local into my finger (yes, I got pricked again), she then tied a rubber band round the base of my finger (hahaha, it reminded me of how a cock ring works! Uhm, not that I use one before…) before she cut it open with a sharp scapel.

My finger looks look, red, flushed with blood, hard, and swollen as it stood rigidly under the lights.

She turned back to refer to the X-ray behind her to try to locate the splinter. Her grim words were, “If I can’t find it, you have to be admitted and we need the X-ray machine to locate it.”

Well, knowing how before that I had ticked off the boxes of all the “worst case scenerios” suggested to me with regards to my finger, I was thinking if I had to leave my cut gapping for the convenience of it.

She then commented coolly that some of the flesh around the wound is infected and the bad tissues needed to be scrapped off, briefly mentioning if it wasn’t done cleanly, I might have to go back to scrap it again. Yes, with the finger split open again.

And then she pulled out this white rubberband lookalike thingy out of the cut, showing me. She even gamely stretched my cut to show the white band as I took a picture.

Apparently the 1mm thick rubberband is my nerve. What nerves! And it was pierced. right through in the centre.

I don’t know to laugh or cry. It pierced the 1mm nerve (thankfully, the minor nerve), when it is 1mm.. of all places, you can pierce a nerve!!! Got more accurate or not?

And secondly. It is 1mm. And it didn’t snap?!?! It was like those worn rubberband, stretched thinly at the site it was pierced.

A nerve injury takes half a year to heal, and that also explains the shooting pain.

Fortunately the evil thing that lodged itself in my finger was located and plucked out like a thorn (Bottom row, 2nd from right).

No one could figure out what it was. Nemo’s toothpick? A coral’s thorn? Some fish bit me and I brought its tooth home? Idon’t know!!

It isn’t smooth and looks like a tip of the toothpick, but how is it possible to have a toothpick at that depth?!

Roarrrr!

But after having my finger wrapped up like a popsicle, it was a week plus before it was healed and I had help to get the stitches out (tried doing it myself but I guess I could have chop my finger off unwittingly with an “Ooooooops”).

My index finger is still weaker than other fingers and with all the bad flesh dug out, I thought it would do what liposuction meant to do, but it doesn’t seem to look any slimmer.

The long course of antibiotics also brought forth other ailments, and since then I seemed to develop an allergy to alcohol. Tsk tsk, maybe the kick-off will make me “test water” again to see if the allergy is here to stay for good.