Join the Miley Circus

Miley Cyrus – Wrecking Ball

So, as of today, there are approximately 16 billion search results that will come up when you type “Miley Cyrus” into any search engine (I’m making this number up but I’m pretty sure it’s accurate), and I’m here to add another! Woohoo!

Now, I’m not a Miley fan. Right off the bat, I can tell you that I only enjoyed watching Hannah Montana the TV series, I didn’t like the movie all that much and haven’t really followed her career with any vested interest since. However, her recent choices have become so embroiled in the media that everyone is kind of forced to sit up and pay attention to what she’s been up to. Unless you’ve been living under a rock. A true blue katak di bawah tempurung. Then, and only then, can you probably escape the media blitzkrieg.

ANYWAY. So, when I first watched the Wrecking Ball video on Tumblr (I admit, I like being the first to see music videos from artists my friends like. I don’t have to like them – I just like being the first to say “HA I SAW THE VIDEO BEFORE YOU DID!” I am the only one who gets any pleasure out of this, everyone else like “So what?”. Rightly so), my thought process went kind of like this:

“Oh, super close up of Miley. Her eyes look like something out of Tron..”
“I wonder if that white cropped tank top is from American Apparel..”
“Damn she’s hot”
“Okay, sledgehammer”
“Giant wrecking ball”
“Oh no she’s starting to kiss the sledgehammer. No tongue, please Miley, keep your tongue in your mouth”
“Oh, wow, NAKED on the wrecking ball.. I hope it’s clean”
“AGH SHE DID IT SHE’S LICKING THE SLEDGEHAMMER”
“WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT”

And it was pretty much all like that the whole video through. Now, my first reaction was to tut tut at Miley and her seemingly downward spiral into prostitution. I’m not a prude, but I do consider myself relatively conservative when it comes to public nudity and stuff like that (although if you saw my Tumblr dashboard, you’d raise five eyebrows at me and call me a hypocrite but hear me out), so seeing Miley bare herself so shamelessly was a little shocking.

Then, I had to sit back and ask myself why I reacted to the video the way I did. It’s an emotional song, she’s singing about her very sudden break up with Handsome Face. Time and again, artists of all genres have chosen juxtapose their emotional vulnerability with physical vulnerability, so being naked made sense, in a way. For someone to admit that they will always want a particular person even after the relationship is done is a hard thing to do in solitary, how much more difficult must it have been to say it out loud where the person in question will be able to hear it?

I’m not saying that the video is amazing, revolutionary, a shining example to musicians everywhere of just how much you should bare to make people believe you are being vulnerable. It’s not. As a creative, I wouldn’t have chosen Terry Richardson (notorious for making models undress and photographing them in the nude even when they don’t really want to, and for having sex with his models while documenting it on camera – I mean, ew. Terry’s pretty gross) to direct the video. But in a way, if what Cyrus was going for was a complete dressing down of her controversial persona, this was definitely the way to go. Richardson’s style reminds me very much of a hospital – putting his subjects under the glaring light of a flash, so they have nothing to hide, including their nakedness – achieved that goal, assuming that’s that what it was.

Wrecking Ball as a song is good. It’s raw, it offers a lot of insight into what her relationship with Hemsworth was like, it is far more revealing of the artist than her naked body will ever be. It’s just that in our image-obsessed society, her body is what became the talking point of the video, which is meant to be an accompaniment to the song (but these days has become more than the song). Everybody, give Miley a break. At least she’s not turned into Lindsay Lohan, whose reputation is far more worrisome than a girl who seems to be really happy with what she’s doing with her life.

Season Stirrer: Dolce & Gabbana Spring ’14

It’s that time of year again, when the fashion weeks clash together with offerings of Fall/Winter ’13 and Spring/Summer ’14 collections. How are we, the people who come from countries of a mainly singular season, to make heads or tails of this?!

Autumn and winter fashion goes right over our heads. It means transitional outerwear, coat weather, plushy sweaters over leggings and ankle boots, raincoats, beanies and scarves start to come into play. But it’s definitely not for us Malaysians. Who in their right minds thinks wearing more than two layers outside a shopping mall is a good idea? You sometimes see the occasional fashion victim in a thick jumper and boots, but they usually look miserable.

Now, spring and summer are seasons we can get behind. Light airy fabrics, bare skin and minimal shoes are definitely my cup of tea. It’s far too humid in this country to be in anything else, I truly salute those who wear tudungs and baju kurungs day in and day out. Since coming back, I haven’t put on a single pair of long pants. Not even leggings. I’ve been living in shorts and skirts, and I think it’s going to stay that way for a long while.

I was (as per usual) scrolling through Tumblr when I came across Dolce & Gabbana’s Spring/Summer ’14 collection. Now, I don’t know much about mythology of any kind, whether it be Greek or Roman or of faerie origin. But this collection is what I imagine the goddesses Aphrodite, Athena, Hera, Persephone (fun fact: she was queen of the underworld, wife of Hades and goddess of spring. I know. Plot twist!), along with the demi-goddesses and even slave princesses would have languished in. Covering just about every colour imaginable, but focusing mostly on gold, Dolce & Gabbana have done a spectacular job of making every dress worthy of a goddess.

I imagine even Cersei Lannister or Daenerys Targaryen would want to get their hands on these dresses.

Here are some of my favourites:

I could keep going, but this post is long enough as it is. Check out the full collection here.

I want to be a goddess now. Anyone know if Zeus is up for marriage?

 

Insta-Recap: The Last Few Months (PART II)

AUGUST:

 

Dad wearing the paper bit that goes around your ice cream cone on his nose on their last day in Northampton, a ladybug that bit me (it was my friend when I took the picture, and promptly unfriended me by biting), a really fat badass cat we found in Oxford, a baby bird Quin and I found on the road outside her house (we took it to her backyard instead), French toast with bananas and honey made by yours truly, Fall Out Boy live at Reading Festival ’13, the view of the O2 on my second last day in London, my first meal in Malaysia of roti telur and mutton curry and my uncle’s funny bulldog.

Well, that’s it for now! September isn’t over yet, so I won’t put those up. Hope you guys enjoyed the pictures, sorry for the sudden slew!

Insta-Recap: The Last Few Months (PART I)

Get ready for a slew of photos! Here are most of my Instagram photos since.. Holy crap, April. Heheheheh.

MAY:

Summer strawberries, summer skies, overgrown onion, Japanese curry made by a friend, Inessa’s and my gift to The Breakfast Club in Soho, London plus the burrito I had there that was the size of a very small baby and a tiny piece of Venice.

JUNE:

Viennese cake, the Royal Palace in Vienna, jellyfish at one of the aquariums we visited in Europe, part of the Berlin wall that was knocked down (they used the poles to reconstruct the exact location of the wall, this was part of the outdoor museum), our last day in Amsterdam spent in the park, Karl Marx’s grave in Highgate Cemetery (not his real grave, the real one is much much smaller and older and you have to look pretty hard for it), the brightest moon George and I had seen all summer and ginger beer in the field at uni.

JULY:

  

 

Boxes packed to move out of my room on campus, the view on the flight to Glasgow with Mum, one of the mountain ranges in Scotland (I can’t remember the name now, oh dear), sunflower shorts from American Apparel, Stanley the Stegosaurus (a vintage brooch I bought in Greenwich market and lost in Bicester. I was really upset when I lost him, got so attached), flying over mountain ranges on the way to Florence with the family, and the grandiose ceiling of the Florence Cathedral.

Home.

I just got home today.

As in, home to KL. So I guess I should change the header of this blog, since I’m no longer “sticking it out in the UK”. I’ve been absent because I was spending my last 10 days with George and I really wanted to cherish them. He didn’t have a lot of money (spent it all in the Ukraine, he went to Chernobyl which is pretty cool – although I do secretly wish he had put some money aside so we could’ve done more stuff in the city. Oh well) so we spent a lot of time in bed, reading or watching TV together, him playing games while I blogged, etc. We managed to spend a day in Central, he took me to a tiny indie bookstore in Bankside called Woolfson&Tay and if you’re ever around the area, you should check it out! It’s really nice, they do a cafe as well and last week it was Malaysian nasi lemak with sambal, ikan bilis (yes, proper ikan bilis!) and chicken curry or vegetarian curry with tofu puffs. It was delicious, and only £5 per person (£5.50 eat-in)! Bargain. They also do these book bundles, so you get three or four books between £5 and £10 tied up with string, which I thought was really cute. I would’ve gotten one if I had more space in my suitcase, but unfortunately I didn’t. I think it’s really worth it though! Then we walked 7 miles – that’s right, 7 MILES – to Hyde Park. Like, this is what the walking route on Google Maps looks like and this route is a bit more than 5 miles:

But really, we took a much longer route because we walked by Battersea Power Station and alone the Thames Walk. It was mad, by the time we got to Hyde Park I was knackered. We met up with his family plus his aunt and uncle, who live in Australia. It was so nice to sit in the shade and drink Pimm’s with fruit in it and just enjoy the day. After that we went to the Serpentine Gallery pavilion in the park to see an installation by Japanese architect Sou Fujimoto, which was really nice. I don’t have a good photo of it, but you can see it here. It was pretty cool, we climbed up and sat in it for a while before heading to the tubes. Before heading home, he wanted to go on the cable car, which is the Emirates Air Line Experience. Basically, it was made for people to commute between the Royal Docks and North Greenwich, and goes right over the Thames. Nobody really uses it to commute as it’s pretty expensive (£3.20, and that’s just on Oyster!) and doesn’t make any sense to use it to commute when the DLR and tube are faster and cheaper, but it does offer a really nice view and is quite a touristy thing to do. I was his excuse to go on it, being the foreigner.. Pfft. But it was quite nice, quite nice indeed. We went just as the sun was setting, and this was the view: The O2 and Canary Wharf in the distance looked pretty impressive. On the other side you could see Shooter’s Hill and behind you could see Central, it was great. We didn’t do much else till the day before my flight, when we went searching for a particular sausage my dad wanted. Don’t ask. He just wanted sausage. We didn’t find it in any case, but I bought chocolate to bring home. That evening his family made me ham, eggs and chips – so English! It was a nice dinner to have before going. Basically the rest of the night was spent with me soaking his chest with tears and him trying to cheer me up. He succeeded in the end, I am eternally grateful for that. I’m still really sad to be gone though. I’m not sad to be home, I’m just sad to be so far away from him, and from London. I fell asleep on the flight to Dubai and you know when you’re in that limbo state of being barely awake and still asleep? In that moment, I really expected to see him next to me when I opened my eyes. And obviously he wasn’t there, which just made me so, so miserable. It’s still a bit surreal to be sitting here on this couch, about 7,000 miles away from each other. I’m really hoping this long distance thing works out, I have issues that I really need to resolve and maybe this time apart will help me with that. I miss you, bubs. That was probably him being nerdy and playing Star Wars, haha. I really hope I see him soon.

Clothes and Ethics

So the other day, I read an article on the Guardian about how people love cheap clothes, no matter where it comes from – and most of the time, it comes from a sweaty, grubby factory packed with children painstakingly stitching clothes together to form what we put on our backs today. You can read it here, it’s very well-written and confrontational, and might even make you re-think your shopping habits. It’s definitely making me re-think my own.

As someone who can’t afford to buy extremely expensive clothes made in Europe or any other country that doesn’t depend on slave labour (child or otherwise) to keep the economy running, I have to admit that I’m a part of the consumer demographic that loves cheap clothes. I love clothes. I love it when they’re cheap and within my middle-income-family-budget. I don’t look at the tag to check if my clothes are made in China or India or Vietnam. I guess you could call me a blind consumer, even. I think most of us are. True, there are exceptions to the rule – but these exceptions can afford to buy clothes made in France, America, Italy. I can’t, not all the time. And that really sucks, because I don’t want to be that consumer that pumps money into companies that utilise children to embroider and stitch and glue and cut the products that end up in my wardrobe.

It’s really sad when you think about it, because I’m sure so many of us would stop buying from these companies if we could. We are not bad people. But at the same time.. we are. What we buy, what we consume, it makes the world go round in the most twisted way possible. I can’t imagine what it must be like to work in a sweatshop, and quite frankly, it breaks my heart to think about those who have to, just to earn a living. What kind of living that must be – paid less than peanuts to produce masses of things, stuff, crap, to satisfy the rest of the world’s need to buy, buy, buy. Toiling in sweat and blood only to see most of the money being pocketed by the fat cats who run the place, while they throw you the scraps under the table and expect you to come back in the next day; and you have to come back in the next day, you don’t have much choice..

Anyway, this has just been me thinking out loud. I don’t have a solution for you. I don’t have a bright idea on how I can stop being that consumer and start buying more ethical clothing without breaking the bank. I don’t have the answers. But I can try, and that’s what I’m going to do. Start putting more research into the brands I buy from, see how their clothes are made and how their workers are treated. If you guys have any suggestions on how I can make my spending habits more ethical, then by all means, leave a comment. I welcome all opinions (:

Disco Pants for sale!

SO I’ve recently been on a bit of an American Apparel craze (I blame George), and for graduation my aunty gave me a bit of money that I used to buy my most coveted obsession – disco pants. I bought them in size M because I had tried them on in that size before and it fit, and went home skipping.

UNfortunately, it turns out I lost weight and dropped a size. Uh-oh! So when I tried them on back home, they were baggy around the knees, too bunched up around the ankles and not as well-fitting as I remembered them to be. At a whopping £74, I was pretty devastated and also beat myself up for removing the tag before trying them on at home. Otherwise, I could’ve just exchanged them at American Apparel. I know, I’m an idiot -hangs head in shame-

Anyway, I did stumble across a discounted pair in size S on Asos (I love you Asos) and I bought them on the spot. They fit perfectly, hold all my wobbly bits in and are basically perfect. But now I have a pair of genuine American Apparel disco pants in Midnight Navy, size M that I can’t wear and paid a ridiculous amount of money for. Cue: eBay!

I’m selling this pair of American Apparel disco pants on eBay, you can view them here. They have never been washed, only worn once when I tried them on and promptly taken off, so there’s absolutely no stretching or signs of wear (obviously, they’re brand-freaking-new). The tags have been removed due to stupidity on my part, but they are 100% genuine. Size M fits UK12-14, and please be informed that they are hand-wash only. Bidding on eBay starts at £25, or you can buy them straight away massively discounted from £74 to £56! That’s a bargain, alright.

So please, my lovely readers, help me find this pair of lost disco pants a loving home. Let the shininess compel you. Sure, it takes a bit of effort to put them on, but once they’re on, damn gurl – your ass is going to look bangin’. If you know anyone looking for a pair of pants to party it up in, these are perfect and you don’t have to fork out £74 for them. Take advantage of my mishap, and save yourself some money! Seriously.

Seriously.

So.. Wow.

It has been ages since I last updated this blog! I’m really awful at this blogging thing.

Anyhow, I’m in Pisa at the moment with my family, and it is ridiculously hot in this hostel, the street below is noisy as fuck and I’m really annoyed at my boyfriend who hasn’t texted all day. I can’t sleep, I feel sticky and gross, so what else is there to do but read the news and blog? Here I am, ta-daaaaaa~

One more week till my family goes back home to KL, and after that, exactly 30 days till I go home. Mum has been with me since the 1st of July, and Dad and Sara have been here for a week and a half now. I honestly have to say that while I do love and cherish my family dearly, I am going to be so happy when they go back. I love my freedom way too much. I like being able to get up whenever I want (not 8 in the fucking morning when they can’t sleep and want to do stuff – I want to sleep, for crying out loud!), I like eating whenever and whatever I want (although I have to say that since my dad has been here, I feel like I have not stopped eating. I had better still fit into my new disco pants when we get back to Northampton, or I am going on a serious diet), I like hanging out and sleeping with my boyfriend when he’s around, I like wearing what I want instead of thinking about not showing my tattoo or being decent according to their standards.

Some people say, “Oh please, it’s only been a bit less than a year since you left and have been on your own, you can’t have gotten used to it so quickly”, but I have, I really have. I enjoy being on my own. The reason I want so badly to get a job is so I can start working towards moving out and living away from home. Don’t get me wrong, my family is great. They’re funny, they feed and clothe me, they encourage me, they are there for me whenever. I love them, and maybe this sounds ungrateful, me wanting to leave the nest as soon as I can. But I’m not being ungrateful – I just think being on my own suits me better.

It’s funny when you think about how much a year can change you. This time last year, I was preparing to go to the UK. I was worrying about visas and packing and seeing my friends as much as possible before I left. Now, I am dreading leaving the UK, my boyfriend, my freedom, the temporary comfort I have created for myself in this country. I have fallen in love with London, and I want nothing more than to stay there. I’m applying to do my Masters in London, and I really hope I get in, but it’s quite late now. I’m applying late because I couldn’t get a job in time, which really sucks and is a huge blow to one’s ego. In any case, I am blessed that my parents are supporting me to do my Masters – that’s what they wanted me to do in the first place. I really hope I get in because if I don’t, I will be devastated.

Anyway, back to where I am now, which is Pisa. We were in Florence the past two days, and tomorrow morning we’re going to Paris – thank God, I don’t think I could do another night in this place. It’s horrible. I mean, Pisa is nice enough, I suppose. There’s really not much in it other than the Leaning Tower, as I mentioned before. We’re only staying here because tomorrow’s flight was the cheapest we could get, and it’s really early in the morning. Which sucks, because I don’t think I’m getting any sleep tonight. Ugh. What I would give to be back in London/Northampton, curled up under the sheets because it’s cool enough to do that!

Going back to KL is going to be a nightmare, or getting used to every day being this hot is going to be.

Florence was lovely, the only issue I had with it was that there seems to be hardly any green spaces in the whole city. There’s hardly even trees! It’s all stone and cement and concrete, and while the buildings are beautiful and the interiors even more so, I don’t think I could ever live there for more than a few days. I like sitting in parks and listening to the wind rustling the leaves of a tree. I can’t imagine anything worse than enjoying the sun on concrete.. well, that’s not true, I can imagine worse things. But you know what I mean. The food is amazing though. I love Italian food, and Florence is a great place to wine and dine. Also, if you want to see the best view in Florence, go to the Piazzale Michelangelo. It’s a trek to get to on foot, as you have to go up like a hundred stairs, but it’s worth it when you get to the top and see the square and see the view laid out at your feet – stunning. It’s an absolute must-see.

Well, that’s all for now I guess. Change and heat and Florence and Pisa. I might blog some more later, if the mood so strikes me again and I still haven’t managed to fall asleep. Ciao, bellas!

Back From Hiatus: Part Two

I’m pretty excited right now because I’m going to London tomorrow to see my best friend off (she was in the UK for a couple of weeks for Download Festival – anyone else go? Holler!), catch up with my other best friend (who was in Europe after I came back) and spend the week with George. It’s been lonely here in Northampton, I’ll admit it. I’m so used to having George and/or Sofia around, and not being able to go over to their apartments to hang out or have them come to me has made me a hermit. I have literally gone out like twice this week. Maybe three times, but only to go get milk or Doritos and beer from Spar.

Anyway, Part Two: Munich onwards!

So we got to Munich and I only have one family member of the Kamals left to meet now! We met Sofia’s sister, her brother -in-law (who’s German and is the nicest guy) and her niece, Liam, who is absolutely adorable. It was really funny when we first got into the apartment, he saw Sofia and was all happy, smiling away. Then she bent down to hug and kiss him, and pointed and George and I. “Say hi to my friends, Liam! That’s Uncle George and Kakak ( means Big Sister – I refuse to be an Aunty just yet) Kate.” He stopped smiling. He looked at us. His eyes got massive. And he slowly.. started backing away from us.

I kid you not. Imagine two young adults standing in front of a 1 1/2 year old, smiling and waving, and he’s slowly backing away from them like they’re going to kidnap him and sell him to slave traders.

It was hilarious, all of us burst out laughing. What an introduction! He warmed up to me the next day though, after I played with him for like an HOUR. While George had a shower, Sofia and her sister went out to have a smoke and the dad wasn’t in, so guess who had to watch Liam? He actually let me hug him and play with him and he sat on my lap while playing with an iPad though, so that was great. If I ever have a kid, he had better turn out like Liam. That child is an angel. He’s quiet and smiley and he just basically lets you do anything and doesn’t kick up a fuss – you can pick him up, toss him about, turn him upside down, lay him on his side – and he’ll just comply. SO CUTE. That night though, when Sofia’s sister asked him to give me a kiss, he just looked at her like, “Bitch, no. I only just met the chick. It’s too much, too soon, I’m not ready for this!” It was the funniest thing ever.

After Munich, we got on the road again and headed to Vienna. When we arrived, it was raining and cold and miserable, but on our last day, the weather was quite lovely. That pretty much set the tone for Berlin as well! Anyway, when we got to our hostel, we were pleasantly greeted by a little old lady named Elisabeth, who owns the Elisabeth Guesthouse. I highly recommend this place to EVERYONE. Really. After we got inside and settled the payment (About £20 per person? Cheapest place we’ve stayed at), Elisabeth got out a map of Vienna and kindly pointed out all the top spots to visit and see, and told us how to get there. She was so helpful. Then she took us up to our room, and there was an audible gasp from Sofia and I. It was huge! There was a double bed and a single bed, which was the perfect arrangement for our little party of three, and outside there was a kitchenette with a fridge, plus a shared shower and toilet. It was impeccable. Best value for money, Elisabeth Guesthouse. If you ever think of going to Vienna, make sure you stay there!

Vienna was lovely, we visited the palace grounds and spent a day there walking around the Vienna Zoo, the Maze and Labyrinth, and went right to the top of a hill where you can see the whole view of Vienna. Just stunning. The time came for us to move on to Berlin, and when we got there – yup, rain. But the couple we stayed with were the bomb diggity, they were so sweet and accommodating. We found a little Turkish cafe just down the road from their apartment that sold the best dried mango and Turkish delights. The Berlin Wall and Checkpoint Charlie are must-sees, and make sure you bring your passport to Checkpoint Charlie to get it stamped! I now have 6 Checkpoint Charlie stamps in mine, it’s pretty awesome. When it was sunny, we sat on the grass by the Wall and basked, enjoying the weather. George found a really good Vietnamese restaurant in East Berlin that was quite affordable and absolutely delicious. There was one point when we wanted to grab a drink at a pub somewhere but couldn’t decide on one, so we went into a little shisha place that lots of locals were in, and stayed there for about three hours.

The night we were supposed to go to Amsterdam, our train was delayed by about an hour and a half. The most unbelievable thing was that when it did come, there were four carriages missing. Four! Ridiculous. Needless to say, we didn’t manage to get that train. We had to wait 4 hours for the next one, which we spent in a 24-hour McDonald’s in the station. I fell asleep on the table, and George woke me up to go wait for our train. I was so dazed that I could hardly walk, I remember George looking at me and laughing, saying, “She’s so sleepy!” and grabbing one of my bags and my hand to lead me to the train. We got on, and finally started to make our way to the last stop of our journey.

Amsterdam was pretty great, it was nice to relax and know we only had one more journey to make – home. Well, for George and I anyway, Sofia was staying on with her boyfriend. The day before we left though, we decided to take a bike around the city. Now, bicycling is a major culture in Amsterdam – it’s full of bikes, and there are clearly marked wide bike lanes, so it’s pretty good. HOWEVER. I had not ridden a bicycle in over 6/7 years, and they didn’t have any bicycles for rent in my size. So, not only did I have to relearn how to ride a bicycle in one of the busiest cities in the world, I had to learn how to ride one that was too tall for me, and I had learn fast. I can’t tell you the number of times i almost fell off, hit someone else, and had to stop by the side of the road to try and get on the bike again. And the other three were no help, they rode like 500m in front of me! At one point, I nearly got hit by a tram – decidedly not a pleasant experience. By the time we got to town, I was livid and scared, I refused to let anyone touch me or talk to me, I was furious. Not because they left me behind (although that played a pretty big part in making me upset), but mostly because I had been so scared just minutes ago. Thankfully I calmed down when we got to the park, where the chances of getting hit by a tram were significantly smaller.

Anyway, the next day George and I took an 11-hour+ coach back to London. 11 hours on a coach? Never again, thank you very much. I don’t usually get transport sickness, but by the time we arrived in Victoria, I really wanted to throw up. Good thing I didn’t, or that would have been messy.

Anyway, that concludes my Eurotrip! Full of ups and downs and all-arounds, and even though we could’ve done some things differently, I don’t regret a single moment (: I definitely want to go back to Venice and Lectoure and Amsterdam again. Those were definitely my favorites, and I’d recommend them to anyone planning a Eurotrip!

Back from Hiatus

Hey everybody!

I’m so sorry for not posting for ages, I got kind of lazy in June when I was in London most of the time, and then I went away for my Eurotrip! I’ve only been back in Northampton for less than a week now, and I’m already dying of boredom. Of course, there is the job hunt to think about.. I’m working on it. Slowly. But surely.

Anyway, I wanted to write some about Europe! It was the experience of a lifetime, I will never forget that trip. I went with George and Sofia, and it’s my second trip without my family and the first with a boyfriend – and it was wonderful (:

So the first place we went to was Pisa, although we only stayed long enough to eat after our flight and see the Leaning Tower of Pisa. It was pretty cool, but otherwise Pisa is kind of boring. In a sense, it’s really old – but it’s not boring because it’s old. It’s the “there’s been no development here and we haven’t updated things in a long long time or bothered to try making the place look good by restoring old buildings” type of boring. Anyway, after that we caught a train to Florence, and then to Venice.

Ahh, Venice. It is currently my absolute favorite place in Europe. The weather was amazing, the people are ridiculously friendly and gorgeous (so many hot men. I know I have a boyfriend, don’t look at me like that! He got loads of eye candy too, so we’re squared), the city is stunning and I loved every moment there. We took a boat to the main touristy centre of the island because George wanted to find the bar that Hemingway used to frequent. We found it – it turned out to be the most expensive place to drink on that island. I kid you not. I didn’t drink anything except half a Bellini (fun fact: that was Hemingway’s favorite drink there!), so I didn’t spend too much. George and Sofia on the other hand had martinis and Bellinis each and ended spending over €70 on just those drinks. Ridiculous, I know!

They ended up being tipsy by the time we left the bar, which was a wrench in the works of their plan to get me drunk first. Muahaha! We didn’t want to take a boat back to our side of the island, so we decided to foot it. George led the way by pulling us through any left and right turn he fancied, which at first both Sofia and I were skeptical of. In the end though, his method of madness got us back to the train station we were staying near. It was like magic! We had been walking for about 20, nearly 30 minutes and were getting pretty tired. We turned a corner, and it was like a movie – this view of the train station and the canal in front of it leading out into the sea just opened up in front of us, and Sofia and I both gasped at the fact that we made it back. It was ridiculous and amazing all at the same time.

Eventually we went for dinner and to another pub to get properly drunk. I had my first Long Island Iced Tea, and I can tell you that by the end of it, I was pretty drunk. That stuff is potent. We talked and laughed loudly without a care in the world, and it was wonderful. The next day we slept in a bit longer but went back to the touristy side of the island to find a bookshop George had read about online. It was this bookstore hidden away from the thousands of people milling about the square, and is owned by a lovely fat Italian man who owned a dozen cats. I kid you not, he had a dozen cats running about in there. The bookstore was called The Floating Bookshop (I think) and had a collection of books that would probably surpass any library in Malaysia. Also, he had a small makeshift staircase made out of books! If you climbed to the top, you’d be overlooking a canal and you could see tourists going by on gondolas. Lovely.

Before we left, the owner said to Sofia and I, “If women were flowers, you two would be a bouquet” Aww! Such a Casanova.

I didn’t want to say goodbye to Venice, but the journey had to go on, so we hopped on a train and headed for Nice. Nice was stunning to look at from the train – blue skies, turquoise waters, foamy waves, sun beating down on the streets. But I was severely disappointed by how cold it was, and windy! We went down to the beach but had to huddle under our scarves because the wind was so strong and relentless. Plus, it was mostly a stony beach, which sucked. I was really, really looking forward to some sunbathing and swimming and general fun in the sun, but no. Nice was not nice to us.

We ended up staying an extra night because we couldn’t get a train to Toulouse on the day we planned to go. The journey to George’s dad’s house was long and ridiculous, we were exhausted by the time we got there. It turned out that Lectoure was not as close to Toulouse as George thought, it took us about 18 hours from Nice to get to Lectoure. When we finally found his dad’s house, we couldn’t open the door, which was major cause for panic because everything was closed as it was a public holiday. It all worked out eventually, but man were we tired. After a good shower and dinner (confit duck – George is living vicariously through me), we settled in for the night in a 13th-century French house in the French countryside. Not a bad way to spend a night! I do wish we could have stayed there an extra night though, Lectoure really is beautiful and quiet. Perfect for a couple getaway. George said the two of us should go back there sometime, and I agree. It’s pretty romantic.

After all the rejuvenation, we made our way to Munich. In order to get to Munich, we had to go through Paris first. However, there were no night trains to Munich from Paris, so we had to wait about 7 hours in Paris after midnight to catch the first train to Munich.. I know, sounds exciting right? It’s not. Paris after midnight is sketchy as fuck, and you do not want to be alone during that time. We walked around looking for a hostel to stay in for the night, but everything was booked up, so we found a cafe that was open till 2am and decided to assess our situation there. At 2am though, we still hadn’t figured out what to do. Thankfully, the manager at the cafe told us to go over to his other cafe, which was open till about 6am! Le Maison Blanche became our refuge for the night, where we got Robin Thicke’s ‘Blurred Lines’ stuck in our heads because it was played about 500 times, were given free beers by the manager from the first cafe and told that if we were ever in Paris again, we could be his guests. It was a pretty interesting night, and if I do end up in Paris again, I will definitely visit Le Maison Blanche!

Anyway, when we finally got to Munich, it was a huge relief.

That’s Part One, I’m going to leave this very long post here to return to my jobhunt. Wish me luck, and I’ll write up Part Two soon! Pictures after that (:

Have a great weekend everybody!