Je rêve d'une vie française

Je reviens. Pour ce moment.

2009-04-06T06:39:00.003+02:00

A quelle surprise. C'était 3 années en plus et beaucoups à changer.

C'est etrange que le temps se passe si vite mais on ne sens pas les changements jusqu'a la fin?

La rêve est disparu peu par peu.

J'ai peur.

Journey To the East: Wien, Première partie

2006-06-13T14:48:00.000+02:00

Ok, as promised, here's the souvenirs about the trip that i made during the one week easter/ spring break (though i must state and insist here that spring this year is a pathetic fallacy. We went from the profound depths of winter to the blistering swelter of summer with only the briefest smiles of spring on us); shall entitle this little sejourn the Journey to the East, am really sorry for it being incredibly late. Anyways, we went there in search of enlightenment and respite from an otherwise cluttered and overwhelming parisian universe. The trip was over three legs, a tripartite triptych of sorts into e olde Österreich-Hungarian empire, a lost Bohemia in this modernity. Three places in all: Vienna, Bratislava and Prague. This entry will be on Vienna. Will put up as many pictures as i can but some of them have gone missing and are rather badly taken. i apologise for that. but no matter. and without picassa or photoshop, the photos here are al naturale, so yeah, critics of my photo taking, please reserve those comments to yourselves. absolument inutile.

The trip didn's start off on a really good note. On the way to the train station to catch the overnighter into Vienna, my water bottle chose that wonderful exact moment to leak. Irony loves company; my bag is waterproof, grace à Victorinox, but only when water flows from the outside in; treachery within the ranks was not accounted for in its manufacture. Hydrology wrecked it's course within the confines of my bag, it's tentacles of conformity slipping and sliding till it found the delicious electro-magnatique impulses of the motherboard, seizing it within it's watery inclines and, as they say, the rest is history. I only realised it when my jeans began to get drenched. And of all days, i did not put my laptop into its case because it was too bulky. great. ibm went for a swim and drowned. Murphy exacts his revenge. and so i'm now computerless, at the mercy of the school's slow machines and the grace of the generousity of friends. But that's not all; in Vienna, Char lost her wallet at the very first place that we stopped at, the Stephansdom Cathedrale. I swear it's Paris exacting her displeasure at our abandonment of her. PMS. must be.

But anyway, that was probably the only downside of the entire trip; having sunk so low, the only way to go is up.

In front of Stephansdom and its interior.

Like any good European city, Wien/ Vienna has got a central catherale, St Stephen's, around which the city is built. Was rather cluttered and stifled amidst the hustle and bustle of the crowds and sprawl around it. There was a mass in progress while i was there; having had as much difficulty understanding a sermon in French, hearing one in German was beyond the veils of incomprehension. Probably the only phrase i caught was "oh mein Gott" and "mein liebe Gott", that's about it. oh and "alleluia" and "amen", universal words them.

Another more impressive monument was the St Karlskirche or the church of St Charles. Lovely imposing structure, built sometime in the 16-1700s.

It's framed by two romanesque pillars atop which sit two angels; which ones they are, i'm not too sure. One of them has a sword though, so figure he's the angel of death, Azreel, or something like that. Better be a good boy then...not a good thing to have the angel of death staring down on you everytime you go for mass..disconcerting to say the least.

Interior of the church..altar is framed by pillars as well, which run to the ceiling.

Vienna is a small city, the old town occupies the heart of the city, around which a ring road encircles. The public transport system is efficient, clean and modern; the antithesis of the Parisian metro, the Austrian Gibreel to Paris' Shaitan. Oh the stark difference between the clean efficiency of a Bundesrepublik influenced nation and that of a Francophone. Sad but true, Vorsprung durch Technik rules anytime over la France.

Vienna was also the seat of power of the Hapsburg empire; here my European history fails me, just know that they were the rulers of the Austro-Hungarian empire and thus unified much of the central blocs of Europe and eventually quashed Bohemia etc. Lasted till the end of the 19th century, I think. Anyway, there's the Hapsburg Palace to visit as well; a really lovely edifice in the centre of the city which today houses a plethora of organisations and the Vienna library. As we were there on a sunday, much of the places were closed, as expected. Opposite Hapsburg palace lay two massive museums and beside that, the awesome Parlement house.

Parlement House..sorry no better pics to show it's grandeur.

There's also a lovely museum quatier where the museums congregate to collectively regale you with their treasures and/ bore you to tears, depending on your inclination for old things.

Okay, have to head for class now..the next update will be on the Schonbrunn schloss, Gustav Klimt, all things mozart, and of course, the lovely danube river.
Vienna the city of music; just how much do they love their Mozarts and Schuberts?

This much:

eine toilet mit musik. best. =) Ich liebe Wien.

ça fait longtemps sans bruit

2006-05-05T22:10:00.000+02:00

Okay, I know that this space has been massively silent for a really really long time...not that I'm too lazy to update (though that might not be too far from the truth) but because my laptop went for an unfortunate and ill-advised swim 2 weeks ago on the way to Vienna. Sent it for repair last week; but this being France, and knowing how effective and efficient the French system is, I don't think i'll be getting it back anytime soon. say another 2 more weeks. at best. So right now i've to make do with using the school computers, which uses an "azerty" keyboard rather than a "qwerty" one..thus some zords hzill look like this fro, ti,e to ti,e. yeah. hell of an irritant to use to type.

Have got presentations and essays over the next 2 weeks; got back some french results and have proven my point that i'm a disaster in the language..no one understands what in the world i'm writing, and worse still, neither do i. oh well. time to go back to basics and try and make it work.

Will update this space with details of the Easter break trips that I made: went to Vienna, Bratislava and Prague. Really beautiful places and nice people; stark contrasts to parisiens that look like they have a grudge against the world and who habitually go home and kick their cats, kids, anything that moves. But spring is here and Paris is much much prettier. And warmer.

oh and i need a haircut. soon.

2006-04-11T07:16:00.000+02:00

If we open a quarrel between past and present, we shall find that we have lost the future.
Winston Churchill

Quick quote of the day to get the week going.

Though this might take me a little time.

2006-04-06T04:42:00.000+02:00

How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
...
Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.

Stole this from servus_reginae's blog.
Thanks Stas.

Sights and Sounds of Paris; Marche aux Puces

2006-04-05T03:46:00.000+02:00

Okay, received an official compliant that my postings have been much too serious and needs to lighten up on the language and context a little. So this is a concerted effort not to castigate nor commiserate with the various cauterised elements of this catatonic country. whatever that means. =)

Marche aux Puces
The picture above was taken at this place called the Marche aux Puces; it's basically a conglomeration of several pasar malams together in one area. Expensive parsar malams. It's located at the metro Porte de Clignancourt, in the event that any one of you would want to check it out. I believe it's open everyday; we went there on a Sunday and it was bustling with activity, not just with tourists but also with the locals. We chanced upon this quaint complex which housed various shops selling restored furniture and antiques; it was amazing. Armoires dating from the 18th Century, chairs that looked like they came straight out of the lourve, 4 poster beds drapped with silk and lace. lovely. And my one weakness, books and old photos. It was as close as heaven could get on earth. There were old leatherbound manuscripts, the entire collection of Moliere's works in a single bound volume, early pleiade editions from the 19th century. If i had the money, oh boy. But yeah, could just see, touch and smell the books, nothing much else that i could do; that i could afford to do.
Around this complex are also many other stalls that sell everything from clothes, shoes, imitation designer accessories to dodgy looking shacks that have like broken off heads of statues and idols that look like they were looted from ankor wat or something. A highly interesting place to explore and maybe score a few bargains if you can.

Oh yeah...haha...no prizes for what else there is in this place as well. "Ancienne", as the word suggests, means old, previously used. Put the two words together and you have a good idea of what you can find here. Had to take a picture of that sign for the sake of it.

One thing that you'd find throughout the metros of Paris is a vibrant buskering culture. Almost every metro has their own itinerant muscician, artisan, singer or just plain tout. This was taken at Chatelet, the main central transit station for the metro in Paris. There is this resident orchestra there everyday playing and selling their CDs. Truth be told, they are quite good; so far have heard them play Vivaldi's Spring and Winter, and i think, Mozarts Figaro. Might be wrong. But they are entertaining. As with other performers that you will find all over. Though not always talented, they are always entertaining, even if it is their inaptness and sheer bloody mindedness that you are entertained by. Take the metros of Paris, you'll know exactly what I mean.

L'actualité: les manifestations, Sci-Po

2006-03-29T05:44:00.000+02:00

Guess the updates have not been coming fast and furious enough, rather lethargic entries of late, the euphoria of Italy gone and humdrum of school taking over. Alright, shall spawn several tales in this entry then. Will start with what the press has been brilliantly portraying as an uprising of students against the government, circa 1968.

Les Manifestations!
It seems like once in every generation of the French, there is an inherent need to show unequivocal discontent and displeasure at the incumbent gouvernement by way of what the locals call "la manifestation". Lovely word that; sounds so much better than "strikes" or "demonstration", a certain element of poetical justice about it. Something being manifestly unjust, thus the need to have a "manifestation" to redress this wrong. This time round it is a crisis of youth; as if adolescent urges and hormonal pheramonic impluses were not enough to contend with, there is now the added problem of the CPE, or known as le Contrat Premiere Embauche. It's meant to be a policy instituted by Villepin (the prime minister of this country. if you did not already know. you bumkin) to alleviate the unemployment problem amongst youth in this country. The current employment rate for those aged 15-24 in France is at 26%. This is the lowest rate in the entire European community and represents a very real social problem. Thus the need to introduce measures to respond to this. However, there are flaws in its conception and application; it will disavantage greatly those who have higher qualifications like degrees and masters. You will be paid a minimum wage for two years and there is no employment protection at all, and this is for all those who are below 26 and applies to the first incidence of employment only. Several more points of technicalities; not important here. What's important is that almost all universities and schools in the country have been blockaded by students and for the past one month, there have been no classes. Except for places like my university. Too good to descend to the level of the common plebian. For many, it's been a massive street party during the demonstrations. Got caught up in one 2 weeks back with this Portugese guy. We were just standing at the street corner talking and watching the march when suddenly the area was cordoned off and we found ourselves in the middle of the protest. haha. Took pictures but it's on my mobile, so can't put it up here now. Some parts of the crowd got a little violent and we got shot by tear gas. Like how cool is that; something like this will never happen back home.
Guess it's really two sides of the democratic coin. On one hand, you have the freedom to believe in what you want and you have the right to your own points of view; there is no one to take away that right from you. Unlike in our socialist-autocratic monarchy of a country, where the voices of dissent are mere whimpers, so much suppressed under the yoke of fear. Fear of reprisals, both economic and personal liberty. Of course with such freedom comes the need for social responsibility; and sometimes it can be argued that the individual is not the best judge of what is best for society; the individual as the term suggests, stands alone. Thus the notion of social responsibility in the individual and by the individual will be a paradox; as what we have been brought up to believe. With as much freedom as we see here though, there is the fear of democracy descending into a farce, rendering the government ineffective in effecting policies. Not going to be a judge of which system is better. As much as having too much freedom generates the likelihood of anarchy, only the truly myopic would think that having little or no say in decisions which affect us is the better path to take. Somewhere in the middle.

oh by the way, was reading this really really interesting article on AFP (Argence France Presse); unfortunately its in French. But look at the picture on the right: if you know Delacroix's "Liberte guidant le peuple", it's meant to be a modern take on it. Yes, the girl is real, it's not a statue. Nice...mmm...it's in Bordeaux though, not in paris. dommage; tellement dommage.
http://www.afp.com/francais/news/stories/060328213739.zfg83phc.html

Last bit of socio-politcos. After reading the different newspapers here for the past month, I think ST sucks. Honestly. There is no point of view, no varied reporting; all we have is trashy reads like "Singapore's no.1 (only) tabloid", which by western standards is not rubbishy and sleazy enough to be truly called a tabloid, and the official government paper, ie. Straits Times, which toes only the official line and has unabashed biased reporting. Liberalisation of the press back home will be one of the last things that will ever happen; no one will dare to write a critical piece against the incumbents, even when backed up with evidence. Slander and defamation are simply too slippery terms to negotiate successfully without being declared bankrupt, imprisoned indefinitely or exiled.
Even virtual, intangible spaces like blogs are subject to persecution; where do we begin to draw the line between the public and the private? Creative, critical thinking? Only if sanctioned and policed. Question not and just believe in the system. In a lot of ways, it's like religion. If you just wave the bible and say "believe, or burn" and simply blindly follow the faith, than how can you truly say that you believe. Even Peter questioned Jesus. It is only through questioning can you begin to understand. And only when you understand can you truly say that you believe. Faith is not meant to be blind. It's meant to be trusting, not stupid. Only fools jump in with eyes wide shut and call to others to follow them into paradise.

Pictures!
Okay, several pictures of my room here in Paris. Am sharing the room with one of the guys from NUS. Pretty comfy; rent here is astronomical, so sharing makes more sense.

It has been really cold; one morning we woke up and the ground outside was covered with snow.

Weather has turned for the better now; we're having highs of 16 degrees now and lows of 7. Its so much nicer right now, we can actually walk along the Seine at night and see Paris by night and not freeze. At last.

School's getting slighty better. All my classes are in French; it's still a struggle to understand them. Am not gonna gripe about it though. Reading, writing, speaking and faring all round academia in a foreign language is a challenge and I'll get through this, for better or worse, it's still an experience. Will be the better for it.

Reality Bites

2006-03-14T21:57:00.000+01:00

Loved that show, the one with Winona Ryder and Ethan Hawke. Misappropriated the title for this entry; there's this lovely resonance about it, a poetical licence of intepretation on what reality does. I think it's all about expectations, great or otherwise. If you don't expect too much, you will never be too bitterly disappointed. Coming to Paris was an exercise in great expectations. I guess seeing, hearing, reading what other friends have waxed lyrical about their exchanges has created an irrevocable sense of expectation, of an unquenched longing for something out of the mundanity of life back home, a break from the rigidity of routine. Leaving everything behind and starting a brave new world, replete with all the struggles and joys of discovery. Of finding yourself, who you are, in a place where you make your own decisions, where you decide what you want to do with your life. Maybe that hasn't changed.

Paris is beautiful. To walk along the Seine as the sun sets, the last rays of the day casting a distant shadow on the Eiffel tower, the ghost of Notre Dame just visible in the encroaching dark. To watch the sunlight bounce off the ripples on the river as it makes it's way across the city, a ceaseless flow echoing the endless stream of life that surrounds you. To know that you're well and truly alive in this world. To just sit along the sidewalks of a cafe, watching the bustle of humanity pass you by as you fondle your petit tasse de cafe, not a care in the world, knowing that there's a time and place for everything. And that for now, this is the time and place, the time to take out those rose-tinted lenses and indulge in a moment of eternity, and there's no better place to do it. La vie en rose; Paris is all that. But like any beautiful woman who knows full well the allure of her beauty, Paris is a recondite tease. She reveals to you just enough to set your pulse racing, the rush and euphoria of seduction running through your veins; you think that maybe, just maybe, you might stand a chance with this beautiful creature. Than she turns and gives you the cold shoulder, her chill freezes the last vestiges of your amour. She is a beauty, but a terrible beauty. You can fall in love with her from afar but you can never hope to own her body and soul.

The first week settling in has been hard; Parisiens are not exactly the friendliest of people and most have little patience with you if you cannot speak the language. Not everyone is like this of course but there are enough of them to dishearten you. It's been alright for me to speak; i mean, just whack lah. There's no harm in stuttering when speaking, its a matter of confidence and willingness to try more than anything else. Apartments here are extremely expensive. A hole in the wall (which is about 7 metres square) costs around 350 euros a month, electricity and utilities not included. It's ridiculous. The rooms are miserable, small and cramped; it's like torturing yourself when you have to go back home. For a half decent one, you have to be ready to fork out over 500 to 600 euros a month. At that price back home, we can get a 4-5 room flat with change to spare. Am staying with a friend now; an illegal alien. But we're splitting the rent and its come to quite a decent amount, so its not so bad. More money to spend on important things. Like food. And hopefully a nice jacket and leather boots, when i have the impetus to go shopping.

The biggest obstacle thus far has been the University. Institut d'Etudes Politiques de Paris is not exactly the best place to relax. It's one of the best institutes in Europe for Political Science: Dominic Villepin (the French Prime Minister just in case you don't know who he is) was on our campus today, probably to comfort himself that there are students who are attending classes in this time of protests and manifestations by students. I think we are the only University in France which still has classes as the rest of the country's tertiary population is on strike over the new legislation which affects new graduates. The workload in Sciences-Po is comparable to NUS, but the students are so much more focused and honestly, much more brilliant. They know what they want to do with their lives and where exactly they're going; most of us back home are just doing our degrees for the sake of it, because society demands that we must at least have our basic degree. It's different here. Those who are still studying are doing so because they want to, not from obligation. And that makes all the difference. There is such passion and enthusiasm in the classroom that you just get sucked into it. The language has been the biggest obstacle. There is a huge international student population but most of them have been here for one semester or have at least had 4 years of French education and speak it fluently. I have only had 2years of learning the language and i'm expected to perform at the same level as them. And the lecturers speak so fast with jargon and technical terms peppering an already almost incomprehensible tongue. Have a headache everyday just trying to process the information and have to spend hours in the library trying to do research on what others take for granted. There is no room to manoeuvre, no space to cut any slack..you either sink or swim. At this point in time, all i hope to do is float. I know things will get better, but to start a race from behind, it doesn't feel good. To play perpetual catch up, it's tiring.

Have met many interesting people though, people from all over the world. Oh and one opinion still hasn't changed. Americans are hapsolutely irritating, esp the girls. Its the tone of voice that they speak in and an overall attitude. Not everyone though, there have been several really nice ones. But quite a few of them are like bleah. lack of adjectives to adequately describe them. The Eastern Europeans have this cold beauty about them but they're really nice and fun people to talk to. The Latin Americans and Spaniards are really good looking though, and a cool bunch of people on top of that; am picking up some Spanish, so heh, can add that to a list of languages that i hope to be able to speak by the end of this trip. As of now, i can say i love you in like mmm..8 languages? 9? conquista time...haha...

Ok, will update the blog with pictures of my school and the place im staying and probably several friends etc. A la prochaine fois.

Saving the best for last; Venezia

2006-02-27T15:13:00.000+01:00

Venice at dawn; there is a transient beauty as the world awakes around this sleepy island. Of all the cities that we have visited in our travels through Italy, there has been no other place as beautiful, romantic and timeless as the narrow alleys and vast waterways of Venice. The streets were thronged with revelers from all over the world; it is the week of the Carnavale, an annual festivity which leads up to Mardi gras and Ash Wednesday. The air was rich with an air of expectancy, street performances at every corner, street parties every night.

Venice is a composite of a main island and many islets and there are only 2 modes of transport around the island: you can either take the ferry services that ply the Grand Canal, which is really expensive by the way, or like us, choose to explore Venice on foot. Taking the ferry costs 5 euros for a single trip, or you can purchase the all day pass for 12 euros. Venice isn’t all that big really, so walking is not a problem. The only issue that you might have is the difficulty in navigating the streets; there are so many small alleys, twists and turns that take you to unexpected places, and there are almost no free maps. In fact, Venice in some respects is very much like home; nothing is free.

We arrived here from what must have been the most depressing and melancholy Milan ever. The train ride into Venice was terrible. At Milan Centrale station, the train was overbooked and there were people spilling out of the corridors, crammed up against the doors. Unfortunately we were one of those people. With my huge lump of a backpack and another huge bag of chips, we ended up standing outside the train toilet for over and hour of a three hour journey. Regional trains have the worst toilets ever. I cannot even begin to describe the atrocity of it. Oh for your general info, there’s a reason why one is not allowed to use the train toilet when it is has stopped at stations. The toilets do not have septic tanks; the waste product goes from bowl to train track in one fell swoop. Or rather, in one large plop onto the train tracks; the onomatopoeic appropriateness of it is a better descriptor of the action. Thankfully many commuters got off at Brescia, there were still no seats but this conductor came up to us and told us to go up to the first class carriage. Haha! Good things come to those who wait; there is a God after all.

There were street performances everyday in the different Piazzas (squares). This was at the P. San Bartolomeo

And this was at the Piazza San Marco

It was entertaining, despite it being completely in Italian. Actually, after almost two weeks in the country, I have begun to pick up several useful phrases. And Italian is indeed a really fun language to speak and have fun with. There is a delightful rhythm to it and it is very much like French. Just add an A, E, I or O to the end of the same word in French, pronounce the word with an Italian accent and their phonetic equivalent and voila, Italiano! No kidding. For example, Bonjour is Bonjourno, excellent/ excellente, quand/quanda ; even the swear words work the same way : merde/ merda, putain, puta. I rest my case. Such a delight in trying the different permutations and speaking to the locals in an absolutely bastardised version of their tongue. Haha. And well, it was really fun to try and speak their language; or in fact ended up speaking English with an Italian accent. Love it. Can’t wait to go Spain and Germany; another linguistic adventure just waiting to be embarked on.

The place where we stayed was known as the B&B Rota. Not too bad a place, the location was great, just on the next street to the fresh fish market and near the busiest commercial area, the Ponte Rialto, which also so happens to be the oldest bridge in Venice.

One of the greatest attractions and must buys in Venice are their masks. You can get them almost everywhere. Almost every shop carries these masks; prices start from about 2 euros for the small palm sized ones. Price however, is a good indicator of quality. There are the mass produced ones which generally cost up to 15-30 euros and they are usually made from plaster or ceramic. The really good ones however cost upwards of 45 euros and they are hand made pieces by artisans and they are made from paper marche. We went into this atelier, which are the workshops where these hand made pieces are made, and the minute I entered, my breath was simply taken away. The masks were all so pretty. So so so pretty. And expensive. A simple piece costs 45 euros and others can cost up to 300 euros. The most expensive piece I saw was like almost 800 euros. And there were others even more elaborate and bien sur, more expensive. But they were absolutely beautiful. Was not allowed to take pictures of them but trust me on this. Bought some masks from this particular atelier, the Venexia, and the man who made the masks was there in person attending to the store. If you are to go to Venice, go to this shop to purchase your masks…he gave me a 20% discount, haha, so am doing a little plug for his shop. Won’t reveal how much I spent there; some people might hit the roof. But I spent quite a bit. No regrets though…if you come to my room when I’m back in Singapore, you’ll see why. =)

One area that you cannot miss is the Piazza San Marco. It is where the Palazzo Ducale (Doge’s Palace) and the Cathedrale San Marco is. The Doge was, until the early 20^th century, the ruler of the Venetian Republic, which was once upon a time a great power, both on sea and land, in Europe. Venice has always been a commercial power in Europe, however, militarily, it is of great significance as well. I’m not too good a history buff but I believe that its rise as a military force was in the 16^th century and lasted till the 18^th. Consider the strategic value of Venice and its almost impregnable defenses; the only viable way of assault of Venice is through the sea and its navel ships were the best in the region, providing safe waters for its lucrative merchant fleets. Thus San Marco square is a must see. It doesn’t hurt to know that Saint Mark is the patron saint of Venice and Marco Polo is also a highly revered Venetian (I think) on the island.

Here is a picture of the Cathedrale.

The golden staircase of the Palazzo Ducale

And of the piazza

This was taken at night on the first night which we explored the island. As part of the Carnavale, there were band performances every night at the piazzo.

A picture of the jazz band playing on stage; they were quite good, the music was fun. And there were like couples just dancing in the square to the music, despite the cold and chill. Intoxicating moments of spontaneity; would have so liked to just jump in and join the rhythm of the night, but no dance partner…mmm…oh well.

Ah yes, here’s a really interesting aspect of the carnavale; there were people all dressed up in costumes, from the elaborate to the mundane. Some were tourists getting in the mood of the carnival and wearing masks walking around, but there were groups of professional masqueraders. And by professional, I mean they were like models, modeling the latest in masquerade wear. Check out the photos that we caught of them.

It was like, wow. The costumes were so elaborate and beautiful. And they were walking all around the square just posing for people to take photos of them. Oblige them we did; they were swamped with attention like bees to honey. These were like the professionals. There is another group of people, largely tourists, who come to the carnival and dress up. Some of these people have their own costumes while others rent them just to play dress up, indulging in a fantasy of make-believe and masquerade. Renting a costume costs 120 to 180 euros, a day. Not for poor students but for people with money to splash. It was really fun though; perhaps one day in years to come, will go back to Venice and dress up. As what…heh…well…dunno.

As part of the spirit of the carnival, we decided to get our face painted. It was done outside the Palazzo Ducale and costs 5 euros. Gave the artist freedom of expression to do anything he wanted

Mmm…well it came out looking like this…

Heh…a bit gay…he used so many colours and drew like a flower…haha…claimed it was a dragon. Yah right, a gay dragon maybe. But I did kindda like it. Hmm…

These were the guys who painted our faces. Really talented, the lot of them. And for 5 euros, well, it was pretty fun. We went to the museum with the face paint on…got stared up as if we were “kui” but the others in the museum. But heck, was fun.

The place we stayed at was next to the famous Mercanti Rialto, which is the fish market. It’s opened from 6/7 in the morning to about 3 in the afternoon. It is fantastic to go there and shop for fresh produce, not just fish. The fish there is so fresh and delicious. Thus decided to cook lunch instead of eating out one day. Was going to try my hand at cooking properly for the first time…haha…the girls were gonna be my guinea pigs in this gastronomic adventure.

Voici le menu:

Spaghetti Aglio Oglio with broiled broccoli

Poached Salmon with rosemary and black pepper

Grilled Calamari with butter sauce

Tuna Tataki (to borrow the name from Aquadisiac; basically half cooked tuna)

Pan seared peppers

Fresh scallops in butter and white wine sauce

Served with a white Cardonnay

Here are the pictures of the cuisine.

And the final dish which was the scallops

Haha, not bad right. =) Am feeling rather happy about it turning out well. Considering that all I had really cooked until then was largely outdoor and field cooking, this went really well. And it cost us only 10.50 euros each. Think I will survive the next few months in Paris. Will try out other cuisines; Eve is supposed to send me one every other week for me to try…hmm…am looking forward to that. Hopefully the place I’m staying will have facilities for cooking.

With that, Venice draws to a close. And so does the entire Italian Indulgence. Will continue to write in this blog about the going ons in France and the other places I go to later. School’s about to begin again, so it’s back to the books, but this time in French. And it’s also time to try and find a place to stay as well. Am going to put up at a friend’s place, he’s been really nice to let me stay with him at least for a week while I search for a place of my own. Do visit Italy if you can, it really is a beautiful country with beautiful women (they are prettier than the French, much prettier) and friendly people. Hope you’ve enjoyed the blog entries thus far. I promise to keep this blog updated; hopefully it won’t suffer an untimely death like this other blog, right bjcs. =) you know who I’m talking about.

Voila, c’est tout!

Fin.

Paradiso Milano; mais ce n’est pas pour les pauvres étudiants.

2006-02-27T14:53:00.000+01:00

Europe is currently experiencing the coldest winter that it has had in years; it’s all over the news here. And Milan has had snow for the first time since eons, probably the ice age or something…that gives you a good idea how cold it is here. Rome and Florence are positively tropical when compared to the freezing temperatures here in Milan. The day we arrived, temperatures were around 4 degrees, and this was in the mid-afternoon. The rain didn’t help things either; it dropped to below zero at night. It was a rather miserable start to Milan. The minute we stepped out of the Terminus to the streets, the chill hit us full on the face; even underground in the Metro was no comfort. The cold wind found its way underground. In such chill temperatures, it’s amazing how anyone can get anything done at all. We had to drag ourselves out of the hostel room, and that very much reluctantly, to wander around the sights of Milan.

Our hostel was located near this metro station, Zara. With a name like that, how bad could it be?

Mmm…the hostel this time round was…well…dodgy. The mattress was terrible; even the one in Brunei was slightly better than this. And I’m not joking. The hostel was run by this Chinese family, so they spoke Mandarin and Italian. It was nice to speak a native tongue that I have almost not heard in almost a week. Oh and an observation that we made when watching an Italian television talk show thingy; if you hear it long enough, Italian starts to sound like Hindi. Bloody fast and unintelligible. And really irritating.

Milan, unlike the rest of the other two cities, has fewer historical sites of interest. The buildings are much less ruinous and largely more modern edifices. By modern of course I mean 18^th-19^th century pieces and not like our monstrosities in the CBD. We had just two places of historical interest to go to:

The Duomo likes at the heart of the city. Almost all Italian cities have a Duomo; it is like the central basilica for all cities and most cities grew up around them. This Duomo unfortunately was undergoing some restoration works so there’s nothing much to be seen here. Just us posing in the freezing rain.

And a compulsory statue of Napoleon sitting astride his horse.

Its style and architecture was very much different from the typical dome cathedrals that we are used to seeing. This one was a miasma of spires and turnpikes. Rather scary looking actually; back then if they could not convince you in believing in God, they’d scare you into believing. It looked like gargoyles would be right at home on it. Come to think of it, the cathedral in Strasbourg looked rather much like this as well.

After the Duomo, we headed to the Castella Sforza. An ancient fortress, it lies directly down the road from Duomo. These two buildings form the centre of ancient Milan; the walls of Milan were built with these two sites forming its core and the rest of the city growing around them.

Unfortunately by this time, we were too tired, cold and unwilling to part with more euros to enter the castle and walk inside it. We just wandered around the forum and took some pictures. It’s not terribly interesting; I guess it’s probably one ruin too many for us and the weather isn’t exactly the greatest motivator.

Milan however is fantastic for shopping. I must admit, the concept of shopping here is so much more attractive than back home in Singapore. There are no mega malls where shops are squeezed upon floors and floors of sterile compartments. Instead, shops are lined up along the streets, each window display made up with immaculate care with the most attractive fashions. Think of Paragon, the ground floor which we have to walk past, where Chanel and all the rest are. Now imagine streets and streets of that. That is truly window shopping; which given our budget, all we could afford to do. Prada, Gucci, Ferragamo, Ferrari, upmarket brands galore. The suits are really well cut and look so good, the shoes and bags…haha…think most of you would drool over it as much as I have. But it is for all the nouveaux riches and socialites of this world, not for us humble folk…maybe one day will return here with a vengeance…not likely, but maybe.

It’s also the Milan Fashion Week this week as well. Unfortunately we were not able to catch any of the shows but there were large screens around that were broadcasting them. Mmm…Italian models are so pretty…could just sit, sip my petit tasse du café and watch them strut down the catwalk the whole day. Suddenly it isn’t so cold anymore… =)

Will be leaving for Venice, which is the last leg of this Italian tour before returning to start school in Paris. It is Mardi Gras now, thus Lent is about to begin, another season of fasting and self-reflection. But before that, it’s time to party! Mmm…or sort of lah….hope it isn’t as cold there as it was in Milan.

Gute, ist alles. Auf Wiedersehen.

Firenze; Aufsteig und fall der Stadt Merdici.

2006-02-27T14:29:00.000+01:00

Sorry for the delay in updating the blog. This edition covers the entire Florentine escapade, which includes Pisa. Am writing this on the last night we are spending here in Florence; we have stopped over here for 2 nights and will be leaving tomorrow for Milano (also known as Milan, for the Anglocised; Milano is its Italian name, not just the now defunct pizza restaurant). To start off, let’s start with a little History on this fair city of Firenze, or as much as I can remember and found out thus far.

(sorry another disclaimer is necessary here…this is another late entry…Florence was from the 17^th to 18^th)

Florence, the land of the fleur-de-lis on its coat of arms, is perhaps one of the most important cities, culturally, in Europe. It is the birthplace of much of Italy’s cultural heritage and the home of Michelangelo’s David and the Duomo. It is also where the Italian Renaissance blossomed from and of course Florence also boasted perhaps one of the greatest political entities in the Medici’s who had a strangle hold on both religion and politics from the 16^th to 18^th centuries. Almost no decent or even half-decent European historian can afford to overlook the importance of the Medici’s. For a greater understanding, go here and read up on Florence; it’s my favourite online resource for general knowledge and information you don’t need but can use, Wikipedia. Viva la Wikipedia! =) okay, enough plugging of a free online resource. Suivi.

Florence was a pleasant change from the hustle and bustle of Rome and a much nicer city to negotiate. For one, it’s smaller than Rome. Almost all the major landmarks are within 30 minutes walking distance from our hostel; in comparison, the Vatican took us an hour and a half of walking. The streets of Florence are also much cleaner, traffic lighter and most surprising, bereft of beggars. Until this evening, I had not seen a single homeless person living off the streets and the charity of others. I’m equal parts sad and repulsed to see people begging; allow me to explain, before you all go “tsk tsk tsk, such a void of the milk of human kindness, that boy”.

Many beggars that I have seen have been gypsies or Eastern European Diasporas, displaced from wherever they might have come from and are struggling to eke out an existence in a place where they have no skills essential to finding work, and probably illegal aliens as well. So many of them clutch young children or little babies, all wrapped up in layers of rags in an attempt to keep off the cold. It tugs at the heartstrings to see sights such as these; those of you who are mothers will probably empathise with the instinct to try all ways and means to protect your children and to give them a better life. And there are old men and women, abandoned by their families and all that they have are in the two plastic bags which they carry with them. As Asians, the idea of 不孝子 almost doesn’t exist in our dictionary. 饮水思源, filial piety ; such mantras form the foundation of our culture, though sad to say not everyone subscribes to it. Hopefully we still do, and that is enough, isn’t it. Thus with these extenuating factors, I only have sympathy for them who have no choice but to live off the streets. However there are those who irk me no end; healthy young men in the prime of their lives choosing the easy way out, going on the dole and begging on the streets. I mean, come on. You’re young and able bodied. Work you bum. Is there nothing that you can do to fend for yourself? All limbs functional, faculties of cognizance, speech and hopefully some intelligence intact, why can you not work? Should just kick them in the derrière and get them to clean the streets or something useful rather than literarily bumming around. In many ways, I am happy to see the Pakistani and African touts; at least they’re working and doing something decent for a living rather than begging or worse still, organised crime.

Okay back to the main storyline. Florence thus is a nice change from the dreariness of Roma. 4 days in Rome is more than enough; 3 would have been just nice, and frankly, we were getting just this little bit tired of Rome. Our hostel is along the Via Trebbio and its called Leonardo’s. Not a bad place, but the street that it’s on was like a Geylang back alley…haha…deserted and a little turn off the main road. It’s a cosy establishment, not that many rooms and we took the one with an attached bathroom. And the receptionist, lets call him Leonardo Jr, was quite entertaining. He’s from Croatia, a year older than me, and the hostel is owned by his Godfather. We ended up talking quite a bit to him over the past 2 days. He said he fought in Kosovo, which would have been about 7-8 years ago…can’t validate the authenticity of that, but its interesting. Oh and another interesting thing about this hostel; save for me and Leonardo Jr, the rest of the lodgers were female…mmm…such luck.

Our room...

This shop was along the same street as our hostel…notice it’s an anagram of someone’s name…hmm…wonder whose...

Florence is a shopper’s haven, not as massive and glitzy as orchard perhaps, but the shops and alleys are so attractive and friendly to the casual shopper. Can just enter in and spend so much time in them. Went into Sephora and we spent like 40 minutes inside looking at bath stuff and soaps and smelling everything. So nice. Felt like indulging and pampering myself, unfortunately the shoestring budget denies such extravagant spending…hai…looking at the Japanese people (and the place is infested with them) just go in and shop shop shop, depressing.

Several things that you must do in Florence: visit the Duomo and climb the dome, see David in the Galleria Dell’Academia, walk across the Ponte Vecchio, look at Botticelli’s masterpieces in the Uffizi, visit the Medici’s Palazzo Pitti, hop to the church of Santa Croce, and last but not least, go up to the top of Piazza Michelangelo. And as Pisa is nearby, take a day trip down to it, it’s just an hour’s train journey away, and the leaning tower is not one of the wonders of the world without good reason.

The Duomo is another legacy of Michelangelo; the ceiling is painted by him and it depicts heaven, hell and purgatory in gruesome detail. Don’t have really nice shots of it though, just maybe this is passable.

You can climb up to the dome of the cathedrale, costs 6euros though. But I think it is money well spent. It brings you up closer to the ceiling of the dome and if you climb higher, you’ll emerge into a blustery panorama of Florence. It was so windy up there, but the view was magnificent. There was the sun breaking through the clouds and for a moment, it seemed all surreal. The photo at the start of this entry is from the top of the Duuomo. The Duomo itself looks out of place in continental Europe. Honestly, it looked very much like it belonged in St Petersburg than Florence; its mosaics are decidedly Trotsky-ish, iconoclastic rather than traditionally Western Catholicism. Rastignac would be at home walking past this. Mmm…

Probably the most famous sculpture in the entire oeuvre of Michelangelo, David resides in the Galleria Dell’Academia. It’s not a very fancy place; I almost missed it due to its inconspicuousity. We got lucky, entry was free for the day. Woo hoo. However, pictures were not allowed in this gallery, thus I don’t have a picture of David to show. Oh wait.. =)

Not a really good shot, Kelly managed to take a quick shot of it…before getting scolded of course. Haha. I can wax lyrical about the artistry of Michelangelo’s creation, but will refrain from being too pompous and obscure here…just note the beauty and the realism of the musculature and the brilliant attention to all the minor details. The curve of the calf, the small muscle between the shoulder blades and the arm; its all comes together. It is a massive statue, standing over 5metres tall and weighing almost 6 tonnes. Oh and talking about attention to ‘minor’ details, the statue is also famous for its distinct lack of a fig leaf at a certain highly conspicuous department on the male anatomy. Mmm…it is rather well proportioned as well, almost what one might say, accurate...haha…since this blog is technically PG, I shall just leave it at that. =)

Ponte Vecchio is just a really old bridge and it’s thronged with gold shops. Don’t bother though. The gold is largely 18k, and we Chinese don’t buy anything less than 24k. And its expensive here as well. It gathers its fame from the beneficence of the Medici family, I think. There is a bust of one of them on the centre of the bridge. I could be wrong, but oh well. If any of you go there, do correct me yah.

I did not manage to go to the Uffizi as it was much too crowded. A pity though, would have loved to see the Botticelli’s in there.

Oh, there is a wonderful leather flea market at this place called San Lorenzo. Must go there! There are so many beautiful leather products; the smell and touch of leather is just so intoxicating. Was so tempted to just splurge on a leather jacket; would mean that I would have to starve for the next month though. Food vs Material wants. Food wins. Hai…But there are really many nice things to buy there and its not too expensive. For a really good leather jacket, you can get it for 150-250 euros, and the cutting/leather is really good. It costs slightly less than what you would pay for a branded one which would not have the same quality. If there is ever a motivation to go back to Florence, that would be it.

The Palazzo Pitti was the home of the Medici’s and subsequently the Lorraines who replaced them in the 19^th century. To get a better idea of the reign of the Medici’s and what they were like, think of our own glorious LEEders. Sama-sama. Owned practically everything, called the shots for everything else and basically had their fingers in every pie. As the name “palazzo” suggests, it is almost like a palace; the compound is huge and it has its own Botanic gardens. All the ceilings are painted with stories from Greek or Christian mythologies and there is marble, gold, brass, bronze, silk, every luxury imaginable, all over the place. We managed only to a fraction of a wing of the mansion. And that took us over an hour. Such riches; it’s almost vulgar. There was some commemorative event so entry into the Palazzo Pitti was free…again!

The Leaning Tower of Pisa, one of the Seven Wonders of the World, assuming the list is still the same as I remember it to be. It really is quite a right pretty sight. And a fantastic place to try and take retarded photos of really stupid poses. Haha. Pretending to kick the tower, leaning on it, pushing it, etc. Tried to take a Deuce Bigalow shot but it didn’t work out quite as expected…pity. Can’t put up the picture here though for obvious reasons of decency. =)

You must climb the tower; though it is the most expensive of all the attractions so far. 15 euros buys you the opportunity to climb up 300 steps and you have a 30 minute time limit. The view from the top is worth it though, and you do get some much needed exercise. At the top of the tower, you can truly feel the severity of the incline; the whole world is tilted. If you have acrophobia or suffer from vertigo, this is not a wonder of the world for you. Go to the pyramids or something. For the rest of you, this is a place that you must visit and see the world through a different angle; not everything has to be straight and narrow, sometimes being just a little off-centre takes off the rigidity off existence.

Finally, the Piazza Michelangelo. If you’re as much a sucker as I am for panoramic views of cityscapes, you cannot miss this out. We wanted to catch the sunset there but by the time we reached it, dusk had settled and we had to content ourselves with the city of Florence stretched out below us all ablaze with the lights of humanity.

It was a beautiful sight and a wonderful way to round up this short trip to Florence. Was like a certain poem that eludes me now. To see the world in a grain of sand, and hold eternity in an hour; for that brief moment, looking at the world down below, one could almost have pretensions of immortality. The beauty of this ephemeral existence, nothing gold can stay. We can only make the best of what we have, nothing more, but nothing less either. From Florence, cheers.

Je suis desolée

2006-02-22T22:50:00.000+01:00

Hey people,
Am in Venice now. Have not had internet for the longest time; am using the terminal inside the hostel office. The guy running the place has kindly allowed me to use this for a while so there's no time to upload and update the blog. Will do so once I return to Paris, with postings on Florence, Pisa, Milan and Venice. Venice is beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Am in love with the place...wish you were here.
Cheers!

Chapella Sistina und Rigoletto

2006-02-17T22:27:00.000+01:00

Bienvenue mes amies, ça c’est le quatrième post de moi. Je suis toujours en Rom et aussi le final jour en ce lieu. Demain, je vais partir pour Firenze (Florence), mais ici est un petit souvenir de la Chapelle Sixtine et d’un Opéra qui s’appelle Rigoletto. En suite.

Actually am in Milan right now as this post goes up. The mention of leaving Rome and going to Florence, well that is a little backdated. Hmm...There was no wireless in Florence thus had to back log this entry. The Florence one is still a work in progress...okies, disclaimer over. On we go! =)

I believe that when we travel to different places in the world, we have an idea of where we would want to visit, what we want to see, what we must do. This is the last day that we are spending in Rome; we’ve seen almost everything there is and all that I want to. Sauf un; the Sistine chapel. It was closed yesterday, thus we decided to make another trip today to try our luck. Paulo Coelho wrote once that if you want something bad enough, the world will conspire to help you make it happen; how long it’ll take is another matter all together though. Consider me a museum and art buff; there is a subtle sublimity to art, a transcendent beauty which reaches beyond our mere corporeality and into the élan of the soul (to borrow a phrase from Sarris which is not totally out of context here…right kenji?).

Anyway, the day started slightly miserably; it rained the night before and continued till the morning. We walked out to wet wet world. It was like Paris all over again. A small digression here for all you el cheapos out there: here is a small way to save money on transport (just make sure you don’t get caught). Buses and trams in Europe require you to purchase tickets, which can be bought at either automated machines (Billetterie in French or Biglitetta over here) or at the Tabacchis (essentially the local version of mama shops). However, the onus is on you to validate your ticket on board the bus; the bus drivers only drive, they don’t bother bout ticketing. Thus, you can just simply hop onto the buses and ride for free. Don’t get caught though, if not there’s a small fine to pay. Not likely to happen though.
Okay, back to the main story. We hopped onto a bus (gratuit, bien sur) and headed down to the Vatican again. Guess what we saw.

And it was raining. Cold, wet and miserable. Again.

The queue stretched for the entire length of the Vatican wall, all the way into St Peter’s Square. Argh. So what do Singaporeans do best, or rather, when we see a queue, what do we do? Join it lah…It took over an hour of crawling through the snaking line to reach the entrance of the Vatican Museum. Given the misery that we had to suffer, the trip had better be worth it…

Well, it got from bad, to worse. Don’t get me wrong, the Vatican museum is beautiful, with many rooms filled with religious artifacts, icons and paintings. The place again is huge. But it was hapsolutely hapsolutely teeming with life. Felt like an orange in a Peel Fresh factory, or in a Jack Lalanne Juicer commercial; getting all my juice squeezed out, every single drop. And there were so many detours that they imposed on us to better manage the crowd; a normal 5 minute walk into the chapel turned into a 45 minute marathon. And Korean tourists are SHO rude! Kept pushing and shoving and speaking in that incomprehensible guttural tongue. Wanted to punch this irritating fella in the family jewels; he was just like those honkers in traffic jams, trying to force a way through a gridlock and when inevitably failing to do so, being an absolute idiot. With is no place to move, one just has to be patient, right? No, he had to push, push, push, even a mother in labour wouldn’t push half as much and with much less urgency. Koreans. Rain might be the poster boy of Korean men for some of you, but the common Korean is still very much unattractive. Or at least in my opinion. Dommage.

Enough griping for now. Finally we made it into the Sistine Chapel. For a Lit student, I find myself in the past two entries at a loss for words to describe what I see. Optimus Primate would be so happy to deconstruct me with Lacanian discourse on my failure. You have to be there for yourself and see Michelangelo’s masterpiece. There is no substitute for the real thing. Photographs are not allowed in the chapel…But…Well…

Had to take them all surreptitiously. Really poor photos, but it’s the best I could do. As a word of advice (and I hope you do take this and follow it), if you want to take photos of precious artwork in museums or as such, please do it without flash. You will cause undue stress to the colours and accelerate the degradation of the artwork. You take one picture with flash, the Japanese tourist take another one…the American another one hundred (them being idiots and all), so on and so forth…it all adds up. So please, be nice to paintings, switch off your flashes. Than again, it depends on what you understand by not flashing…either way, don’t do it. Flashing either way harms things…and some things are better left hidden. Period.

Don't think you can see the pictures really clearly. A pity though because the ability of the figures to just literarily stand out is amazing. The entire chapel is a huge exposition; even the pillars and drapes on the walls are actually painted on. They looked so real, the way they folded and the play of light on the satin-like surface. It was beautiful. We huddled together to get a shot of it =)

The paintings across the ceilings were representative of stories from the bible. Sitting at the corner of the chapel and looking up, it is amazing and almost beyond my faculty of comprehension on how one is able to transform vision into reality. The hand of the master is a work of art in itself. We picture beauty in our minds; Michelangelo extracts the pictures in his mind and turns them into physical entities, giving corporeality to an otherwise abstract irreality. The figures appear to move beyond the ceiling and walls and become three dimensional representations. You have to see it for yourself. As you look at the finger of god touching Adam’s, it looks almost real, as if truly for that one moment in time, man had been able to touch God; for however brief and flitting that moment might have been. And the loss of that touch becomes all the more painful, because we know that there exists an inevitable distance which is so close and yet so far.

The lovely spiral staircase that we have to take to exit the museum. And with that, it’s the end of the Sistine Chapel. If you have the opportunity, do go there; it is a trip well worth it.
For the first time since we came to Rome, we had a proper dinner. Walked across the road from our hostel to Mama Angelo’s to treat ourselves for our frugality and in the spirit of things as well; we bought tickets to watch Rigoletto, an opera by Verdi (if you know who he is). Truly arty farty. Ha. Dinner was wonderful; finally, hot food and meat. Had a beef fillet in Gogonzolla cheese. Mmm…total cost came to 15euros. It is actually really cheap if you don’t convert, and for the quality of the food, it was really good.

Nice huge slice of beef. Probably the last time I’m gonna be able to eat anything like this for the next few months though.

Rigoletto is an opera written by Verdi, based on the play Le Roi s’amuse (which loosely tranglated means "the king amusing/playing with himself". Go figure.) by Victor Hugo (he of the Les Miserables and Notre Dame de Paris fame). It was a three hour snore fest, Haha. There was this old guy who kept snoring. A really expensive nap. Okay I did rather enjoy it though, fell asleep only once. The opera is in Italian, understood almost nothing. But (and here is some pretentious pomposity coming up), the transcendentalism of music is such that it goes beyond language and words, feelings and emotions touch the âme of our existence, there is no need for mere explanations of the actions on stage. Just close your eyes and feel the joy, laughter, tears, pain, sorrow; the full plethora of emotions that make us human. That said, seriously, before going for an opera, read the synopsis or the novel. For all its transcendental abilities, I understood squat until I looked it up on Wikipedia; ever reliable, Marvell will testify to that =)

The experience of going to the opera for the first time was an interesting one. For one, we bought the most expensive tickets; they cost like 100 euros each but we paid student prices so it was half of that. And the fact that they were the only seats left. We had like the best box seats in the house. Felt like a moment out of some film; the one that came to mind was Match Point, at the opera house. And we were so underdressed. Everyone was dressed to the nines; we were like little dowdy, crumpy Asians. And I looked like I just came back from snowboarding in the Winter Olympics or something. It was the battle of mink coats against my ski jacket. Not much of a fight there…

This is the view I had from our box seats. Think I’d wanna try and watch other operas around the continent; I know I do want to catch La Traviata and Les Miserables some time in the future. And next time, will make sure I’m well dressed for the occasion, not like this time. So paiseh…

Okay, that’s all for today. Will be leaving Rome tomorrow and head for the beautiful city of Florence. Am really looking forward to it; and honestly, after 4 days in Rome, I’m glad to be moving on. Nothing much else to see or do here; been such a good boy and have not gone like clubbing around the place and getting myself smashed. Not yet anyway. =). Maybe in summer, will do an European drunk fest trip. Mmm…see how.
Bon, c’est tout. À demain mes amies. Santé!

Il Vaticano! Et un petit rendez-vous avec le Pape

2006-02-16T17:56:00.000+01:00

Obelisk

Salut, je suis très heureux que vous etes toujours intéressé par mes aventures en l’Italie. Bon, on y va…

Sorry for the lack of updating the blog yesterday. The network was absolutely wonky and kept getting disconnected, and it didn’t help that I was trying to figure out how to work ‘Hello’ with blogger. Can only upload one picture at a time and each one a different blog entry…will have to try and figure it out later again. Gave up trying to do anything by midnight and just went to bed. Charissa battled the network demons though and managed to plough through the night and got hers updated. If you guys want an alternative view to our travels, go to coconutgreentea.blogspot.com and savour un different point de vue. Ça va?

Road leading to the Vatican

I believe several of you would have gone to the Vatican before so the following would not be any epistemological revelation. Here’s an overview of the Il Vaticano.

Saint Peter's Square

This was after we managed to get into the Vatican. To refute a dear friend (the who makes a lot of noise while playing mahjong, you know who you are), I have been getting up early this entire holiday, though it is not exactly my cup of tea. The pope apparently grants us plebeians the pleasure of his presence every Wednesday and Sunday, so if any of you want to meet the pope (or in this case catch a glimpse of him), these would be the best days to go. Of course, it doesn’t help that the rest of the world thinks the same way too.

Crowd queuing to get into the Basilica

We had to jostle with an amazing crowd of people; and this was at 0930. At times like these, being a Singaporean helps; us being perennial queue cutting championship contenders. It was so chaotic and disorganised that through a fortuitous stroke of luck (actually was pretending to take pictures and made my way through the crowd), I managed to get us to the front of the queue. Even then, by the time we got in, it was 1020. The pope was scheduled to make an appearance at 1030 and the entire Basilica was packed to the brim, with hordes of screaming school children. Later through a nice nun (another nice nun also gave us plastic Vatican flags to wave around…haha…will bring back to decorate the choir room), and through a lovely French couple who interpreted the Italian for me, the Pope was to give a special benediction for all students today, thus the spike in the number of people visiting the Vatican. We were really blessed to have been able to attend the short little service, and being students, the gravity and significance of that benediction could not be more poignant.

Pope giving his benediction

Pope Benedict XVI

The entire atmosphere was electric, almost like a rock concert. As the Pope made his way up the aisle, we could see the people just go wild, and I mean really wild. Jumping, screaming and general orgasmia; it was like the Pope was some rock star or K-pop idol rather than the religious head of the Catholic Church. But the most disturbing was the sight of nuns swooning as he stopped to talk to them. Haha. Too bad the picture I took of that moment was too blurred and far away, it was almost hilarious to see nuns in their habits jumping like teenagers. And it wasn’t just the younger ones that were behaving like that. The sight of old Sisters waving their flags frantically with a huge grin plastered on their faces and calling out to the Pope…whoa…the image still haunts my sleep. Getting the shudders just writing this out now…

Words fail me as I try to find the terms to describe the Basilica. If you have been there in person, you’d know the inadequacies of language to provide words to the majesty and awe of the place.

Basilica

Rear of the Basilica

More of the Basilica

All that you see on the ceiling, the frescos and murals, it’s all gold. Gold, gold and more gold. It’s a plethora of riches. The ceiling soars above us and the entire Basilica is cavernous. As I mentioned before, we do not have the same gravity or grandeur in Singapore. The spirit both soars and shrinks here; we are made to feel so small in the presence of God, yet a part of our soul finds the freedom to explore the space, to move closer to a state of prayer because of the space. We are called to look within ourselves, to find the small corner of peace that we so often drown out in the noise of our everyday lives.

We went down to the crypt where past Popes where buried and saw the tomb of the late Pope John Paul II.

Tomb of Pope John Paul II

Just want to say something. I guess that most of us go through life just bumbling through it, taking what comes to us and most of the time avoiding the need to make painful decisions or to take the easy way out. Maybe sometimes, we are called to lead a life less ordinary, just like the late Pope did. How many of us would have had the same courage and tenacity to stand up, to take that first step and take up the cross, no matter how big or small? Do we have the will to find the strength to do what is right and not just what is most convenient for us? Many are called but few are chosen; I guess many are called, but even fewer truly answer it.

We headed off to the Sistine Chapel but by the time we got there at around 1230, it was closed. The ticketing office opens from 0900 to 1220 only and the chapel/ Vatican Museum (they’re the same place) closes at around 1530. So, if you want to visit the chapel, you have to get there within those times. If not, you’d have to come back again another day; which was what happened to us. Tickets cost 12 euros and students pay 8. Must flash your student card though and you must be below 26. Mature students need not try. Ha.

Thus thwarted, we went in search of the Castel Sant’Angelo.

Castel Sant'Angelo

It’s another crumbling ruin; the façade still holds, but the interior is testament to years of wearing and tearing. The interesting point about this place is that it was a refuge for past popes to escape to. There is a land bridge that connects the Vatican to the castle; according to an Old Italian man whom we chatted with, in times of crisis or if the pope was in imminent danger from invading huns and what not, he would run from the Vatican and seek sanctuary within the walls of the castle. The image of an old man with his mitre and robes running for his life from the Vatican…haha…sho cute, too irresistible not to conjure that up.

Ok, my favourite part, saving the best for last right now. This has to be the cutest army in the world; I figured that the main reason for their uniform (and I hesitate to call it that; the word is costume, not uniform. A uniform is like our no.4. Even Malaysia’s ugly electric blue crap qualifies as one. Cirque du Soleil probably inspired the genesis of this one) is to distract the enemy. Too busy laughing, can’t attack the Vatican, problem solved. Must have taken them years to figure that out. And it works; the Vatican hasn’t come under siege for like what, 2-300 years? Perfecto. Now for the SAF…

Swiss Guards (clowns) =)

One More!

Shall leave you with this picture; sitting on St Peter’s square and just watching the world go by, something we can’t do back home. Wish you were here.

Enfin, c'est la tranquilite de la vie

Roma Roma, La Citta Bella...

2006-02-14T18:02:00.000+01:00

As promised, here's the meat to the teaser in the previous post. Rome is a city of ruins; the litany of modern life exists within the ancient walls of antiquity. It is amazing how ruins dot the entire landscape and we see the world just passing by, as if they have been there forever. Oh wait. They have. Hmm...and by the way, all photos that are here are completely original...=)

But before I carry with the exposition on Rome, I have to dispense a small vitriolic on the f****ed up ness of budget travel. And do heed the following advice; its free. As Caeser once said (I think it's him, but as shome of you know, I can be wrong. like Marvell.), that while others learn from their mistakes, he learns from the mistakes of others. So here goes. We are poor students, so we try to find all ways and means to cut back on expenses. Our flight to Rome was in the morning at 930, but we had to be at the airport by 7...Mmm...so being the el cheapo that I am, I suggested to sleep at the airport overnight. It is an hour and a half out of Paris centre and it costs 13euros for the bus ride there; not exactly easy to make the 7am timing if we were to leave the next morning. Thus we set out for the airport the night before and squeezed on board overcrowded buses in the incessant rain. A miserable start. Great. But the best is yet to be. (like ACS' motto, though as we know, the "best" in that case will never be...notice the use of the conditional clause "yet to", thus the unfortunate implication that the best is not, and may never, be.)
On reaching the airport (which is called Beauvais[BVA] by the way; loosely translated, it means something like "beautiful going/ beautiful place to go". so not true.) we find that it closes at 2300 and we can't stay there. So we're stuck between a rock and a hard place; to go back to Paris (and we have nowhere to stay for the night there either), to sleep outside the airport (temperatures are sub zero, and the ba chang that i am cannot stand That cold a temperature), or to find our way to a hotel and spend inordinate amounts of money which is not in our budget. Devil and deep blue sea; not the best of choices. Deep blue sea it is (at least there's still hope of salvation and not eternal damnation. and given how "guai" i've been, i'd be burning for a very long time). The nearest hotel was 2km (alleged) away and it costs 70euros for the night. Thus we walked our way therein the freezing rain at 9pm at night. Mind you it might sound early, but the sun sets here at 1745 now, not like back home. There are no pavements, road signs and civilisation around the airport; we walked on with blind faith. 2km never seemed so far nor so miserable. In the army I've walked for whole nights and days and not felt this miserable. On the up side, the hotel was fantastic, given the price. Oh and there was wireless...wow. Anyways, we stayed the night and than hiked back to the airport at 630 the next morning. Sore shoulders and feet all round. bleah.

That's us along the cold, dark road...trying to look happy. The girl in the centre's Charissa and on the left Kelly. And that's me. Can see the rain dripping off my hood....

Caught in the act of eating a tomato at the airport...haha...think i look a little bit thinner..just a little...

The flight to Rome was alright; Ryanair was ok. Not the most comfortable flight, but hey, budget air travel, you get what you pay for. Okay, question and answer time; how do you know that you've left france and arrived in italy? (clue: The vatican is here; and god loves italians..he might be one) The sun shines on this land. While Paris was cold, wet and miserable, the minute we stepped off the plane (felt like movie star by the way, since it was off a gangway and not a port), the sun was blazing hot. Its cold here too in Rome, but at least the sun shines. (Geographically and not religiously speaking, it's cause Rome lies further South, thus closer to the equator. And Jesus was Jew, not Italian. Just in case you didn't know.)

Am staying in this hostel called the Yellow hostel...haha...i know, sounds wrong...but its relatively cheap, 20euros a night, and its located in a fantastic neighbourhood, close to the terminus and city centre. Breakfast is included in the price and there's free internet; if you have wireless, you can tap into the network here as well. So hey, if you're on a budget, it comes highly recommended. if you trust my judgement of course. Here's the street where the hotel is at; lovely architecture of the buildings, and they are old, largely around the 18th to 19th century.

Have done several of the touristy areas already:

The Coloseum; If you watched Ben Hur or Gladiator, you'd remember this place. And as the etymology of the name suggests, it is really big. How big? Well...about this big...

=)

Keeping in line with my current love for big, ruinous things...

started a love affair with a roman pillar at the Pantheon. As we all know (i'm assuming a substantial breadth of general knowlege here), the Pantheon used to house the Roman gods in days long past. Today it has been appropriated by the Catholic church and is now, well, a catholic church. On a small aside, almost all chruches in Europe are monuments. They are old, massive and extremely grand. Most of them have gold leaf on their walls and ceilings and beautiful frescos coloured with deep lapis lazuli and rich magentas. Some are so beautiful that it is almost vulgar. One can almost understand the frustrations that had arisen at the opulance of the catholic church which formed the foundations of the split by Calvin and Martin-Luther. There is so much gold and gilt, almost too much. You have to see it for yourself. But these churches in Europe have something magical about them that we lack in our local ones; they bear the gravity and richness of their age and there is a lovely sense of awe, nostalgia and calm when you enter them. One can just sit, pray and find that inner peace that eludes us in the hectic everyday which we live in.

This is the Fontana di Trevi, it is an extremely beautiful fountain, and it would have been romantic except for the huge crowd and touts. Beware of them and just reject their goods if you're not interested; they are mostly north africans or pakistanis and are trying to make a living here, but they can get on your nerves. And the crowds. Oh god, I have to speak out against the most obnoxious of all travellers, the specie Obnoxiono Americano. Americans act as if they own the world and the world owes them a debt of gratitude. They are rude and tend to dominate entire areas, showing scant courtesy to fellow tourists. The young adults are the worst; smug little know it alls. And they look down on us Asians, like we are still shackled with the chains of colonialism; the condescendence is just so blithe and blatant. For God's sake, I can speak better English than you, you little American twats, get a life.

Okies, for the last and not least of the presentation today, we go to the Piazza di Spagna! Like this photo best of all...haha..."kiam pah bin". The dome in the background is the Sistine Chapel; will be heading out to the Vatican tomorrow, hopefully will be able to catch the pope as well, maybe not an audience but at least a glimpse of his Holiness. Hopefully we won't have to try and play "Long Live the Pope" any time soon. Those of you who know what i'm talking about... =) The P.Spagna is another really old monument, it's a huge flight of stairs leading up to a church. Unfortunately it's undergoing restoration now, so no photos of that to show. But I do have this:

Technically speaking, this is how it's supposed to look like...in the 18th century...haha...

Okies, that's all for today from the land of pizza and pasta (the former is inexpensive relatively, the latter isn't). Will tell you how the visit to the Vatican goes tomorrow. Un fait bon, c'est tout maintentant; si tu es toujours interesse par mes aventures, n'oubliez pas reviendre de cette page, oui?
Ciao.

Thousand miles? Well, here's my single step.

2006-02-13T22:38:00.000+01:00

Okay have decided to try (and seriously try) to keep a little travelogue/blog of this little European sejourn that i'm on, just something for all of you out there (if there are any of you out there at all remotely interested in this...) to read and see. (Pictures!)

I realise leaving the comfort zone is not an easy thing to do. Sinking into the surety of routine and the bubble world of the known comes so naturally to each one of us that when faced with the choice of taking the road less travelled or the path of least resistence, we inevitably gravitate towards the latter. It takes more effort to get up and go than just to move within the sublimity of the mundane. That said, the run up to going to Paris has been a hodgepodge of crisises. One crisis at a time. At the time of writing this, I am still officially homeless. But what the hell, something will find its way. I hope. Before I go any further in this vein, I have to thank all those that were there to help me and as a dear friend said, to pay it forward. Generosity knows no bounds and I think I have learnt that it is true. voila.

Arrived in Paris on the 12th at 630 in the morning. Here's a picture of the Charles de Gaulle Airport.

Ugly. The picture's an artistic rendition of an otherwise monochromic, aesthetically numbed monstrosity. The picture is as good as it gets; you have to travel outside of Singapore to realise the efficiency and beauty of Changi Airport, vis-a-vis the drab and dreariness of the others, even in developed countries. Oh and another thing that one must know when travelling to Paris: tout est en francais; everything is in french. Save for some public signs. But then again, its largely the same for all of Europe. English is not ubiquitous; not everyone has been americanised into a homogenous culture. The strength of the European individual can be seen through this firm hold of language as a medium for identity; to allow a differentiation between cultures in an increasingly homogenous world, a borderless entity.

Ah, ok, here goes something lame. They say all roads lead to Rome; well, all trains lead to Paris. Ha. The English translation is somewhat off. The literal meaning of the words in french is "All the trains go to Paris". No love lost between ye olde enemies.

Okies, the girl picture's Kelly, one of the 3 other girls that are up here with me for this exchange programme. We flew on the same flight up to Paris and this is the train station (known as the RER) at the airport. Mmm....before the horrid tongues start wagging...yes, its me and three girls...from the humanities programme. There're lots of Engineers and Science people around lah. so, no. Get all those thoughts out of your heads...je ne sus pas le sal type. d'ac?

Really cold at this time, was -1 degress when we touched down...haha...no joke...didn't bring enough cold wear (save for the natural blubber insulation due to CNY), so now am going all around like a ba chang. not funny.

Okies, shall stop here for now. Actually, I'm right now in Rome, lying on my bed in a hostel typing this out. Haha...

That's us at the budget terminal airport freezing away...that's another adventure, for another time. Donc, c'est tout mes amies. a la prochaine fois...salut!