To the North

"What's a heath?"
"No idea. Let's check it out!" So we set the coordinates for Hampstead Heath on my bro's nifty sat nav and off we went to places unexplored. One of my bros was down for the weekend and since he had a car, we thought it would be nice for the Fantastic Four a.k.a moi and my trois freres to drive out somewhere, especially with the sun making a very rare appearance. Hampstead Heath is in the leafy borough of Haringey in North London. The houses here are red-bricked and big, with wooden window frames and pretty gardens. We parked on Sheldon Avenue where sizeable detached houses had architecturally distinct and modern front porches (and most definitely not according to borough regulations where I live). Except for one house, which looked like a 70s ski lodge. I wish I'd brought my camera. I considered knocking the door of one of the porches that I liked and ask if I could take a closer look. But then I noticed the cctv cameras that some of the houses had in the area. And then I looked at the four of us. We were a motley dressed crew: a hoodie with bigass kicks, a semi-hoodie with sparkly sandals, a hobo-uni student-needs a haircut, and one normally dressed guy. Maybe another day.

The heath turns out to be a park sort of thing. We decided to follow the unmade path route which took us through yellow meadows that looked stark and barren under the overcast sky. 10 minutes later it got cold and windy. 5 minutes later it started raining. Sigh.... So we turned back after our vigorous 15 minute stroll. So.... cinema? Shrug. Yeah. Guess so. The closest was a Phoenix Picturehouse, a small independent chain that shows mainly alternative and foreign cinema with occassional blockbusters. The earliest show was at 9pm. It was only 6:45pm. So we headed to Odeon in Muswell Hill.

"This must be where the yuppies live?" remarks my bro. "What's a yuppy?" asks another. I can see what he means, with the well tended streets, numerous well-established trees lining the pavements, redbricked semi-detacheds and redbricked terraced flats with private fire escapes. "No, I don't think yuppies exactly but definitely well to do people. Like Notting Hill." I wouldn't mind living in a neighbourhood like this one day. We passed 3 independent bookstores, an independent toystore, another independent store of some sort. Yep, mostly indie stores with the exception of Sainsbury's opposite the Odeon. We had 3 options: the latest Harry Potter, Bruno, and Public Enemies. It was an easy desicion made by two of us. Public Enemies turned out to be a way-too-long overdramatic piece of melodrama with gag-inducing lines and epic pieces of soundtrack that made you cringe. Michael Mann. What did you do?

Give them cake

A giant cupcake you say? In Covent Garden? Do I wanna go? Hell yeah! What do you take me for? Have I EVER turned down cake? According to Le cool London, there was going to be an unveiling of the most bigass cupcake. Luckily, I was heading out to central London anyway as upon surveying my wardrobe it occurred to me that I could quite easily dress like a 12 year old, but couldn't actually teach any in what I had. And seeing as Germany is quite a conservative and "proper" country, I had a feeling that my new place of employment would not appreciate me turning up in my hot pink patent adidas and 80's multicoloured-triangle patterned windbreaker.

I was expecting to find a gigantic cupcake that towered over me. It turned out to be a 1.25 x 1.2m artificial looking thing of which I couldn't see much of and had to climb onto a chair to just catch a glimpse, as there were burly mean-looking guards securing the immediate perimeter. What was in fact more impressive was the massive queue of people that snaked along towards Tavistock road, hoping to get a look and a bite of it. Many of them looked to be in their early teens. Don't they have school? Anyway, I had better things to do than to queue for cake, even if it was the most biggest record-breaking cupcake in the world. This included checking out the Covent Garden Real Food Market which I've been told is running till October.

There was a stall selling mini-cupcakes, yep that's right, mini- "I can't see it"-thumbsized-"I need a magnifying glass"- "one lick and it's gone" cupcakes for £1. Each. Each?!! Are you high?!! Forget that. I'm going to get my cupcake elsewhere.

Which I did later after getting bored bored of shopping, at a place called Candy Cakes located in the basement area of Covent Garden. The cake was good though half of it really was just sickly sweet icing that I had to scrape off. Dear Joma, will you please open a branch on this island?

Covent Garden shopping was getting old so I wandered towards Leicester Square and decided to head to the National Portrait Gallery. I was in luck. The BP Portrait Awards 2009 was still on. And many of the entries this year were outstanding. My particular favourite was the winner of the BP Young Artist Award (http://www.npg.org.uk/bp-portrait-award-20091/the-exhibition/prize-winners-home.php?prize_position=4). It was definitely a painting because up close you could see the paint (!), brushstrokes etc. But when you stepped back you couldn't help but stand there puzzled and think, it couldn't be?! It HAS to be a photograph. The definition, the lighting, the shadows....It was most incredible.

A very English Affair

I've finally downloaded my photos onto my computer. I have over 1300 to trawl through and it's making me travel-sick (is that the right word?). I miss the butterflies that were everywhere; the so easily available fresh pineapple juice that I loved way too much; the long long bus journeys where I failed to read Crime & Punishment or learn German with Michel Thomas because I was distracted by: the magical scenery, Steve's obssessive photo editing, Oreos, the incessant beeping of cars. I miss the heat, the amazing food that were obscenely cheap, Hannah's facial melodramatics, getting lost with Sophie, Tristan's constant whining..... I miss travelling! And sleeping an average of 5 hours each night since I got back probably ain't helping me get over the jet lag. In spite of all this, I still made it to Samira's big day. It was possibly the poshest affair I had ever been to.

The day started in Christ Church College  (for the non-oxonians/those who don't know, some of the scenes in the Harry Potter films were filmed in the Christ Church College, so yes, there are ALWAYS tourists invading the place), followed by a boat ride down the ISIS river, where my so far dormant hayfever unfortunately kicked into gear, and finally, a reception in Blenheim Palace, the birth place and vacation home of Winston Churchill.... I think..... I'm so bad with remembering these kind of facts. Saj and I once tried to cycle to Blenheim Palace one summer. We ended up heading towards Coventry. This is not surprising since even with the two of us (she being a real Londoner and me a semi-Londoner), we somehow still manage to get lost together in Central London....

Blenheim like Buckingham is huge and grand, with immaculately manicured lawns and beautifully tended gardens surrounding the palace. It is located in the lovely village of Woodstock, with its little stone cottages and houses, and a small town square. It is a 20-30 minute bus ride south of Central Oxford, though I never did figure out which bus it was one would take there. But why take the bus when you can cycle through the glorious English countryside in the summer? Anyway, Samira and Ed's wedding reception. Have I said it was very English? And very posh? It was also very elegant, with guests having dinner to the whimsical serenades of a harp. The newly-married couple danced their first dance to Louis Armstrong's "We've got all the time in the world". I was secretly hoping they would break out into a hip-hop routine midway to make things "street" but then realised this was Samira and Ed, super-posh and very most refined. They'd have most likely balked at the idea if they'd come to me for suggestions. And also quite possibly un-invited me. The opening to my thank you wishes in the guest book at the end of the night was, "Samira, who is this Ed guy?" Saj is reconsidering inviting me to her own wedding.

Boutiques and antiques

London is beautiful in the summer. Unlike Paris which is stunning all year round, London is a flower that needs the sun to blossom. And today was a gloriously sunny day with a gentle breeze. Perfect for doing what I should've done when I first got the wedding invite- acquire a suitable outfit and buy a gift, though to be fair I already had half the gift sorted out. I just needed a "box" to put it in. So I shed my recent hobo-traveller look, which I was starting to grow fond of, and donned my yellow trench and bashed up Rays. I was ready to face London and it's gazillion shops. Also I figured this would be the best way to deal with my jetlag and delay the onset of any post-travelling depression. So where to guv'nor?

The last time I went to Notting Hill was sometime last year. Couldn't see much of it as there was a carnival going on with lots of people covered in chocolate. Today was more civilised with people wandering in and out of boutiques and antique shops. Though I much prefer edgy Camden Town, I thought I'd have better luck with my task in the more refined Notting Hill. Made famous by the film of the same name, Notting Hill is now always swarmed with too many tourists blocking the narrow paths for photos, or just plain standing around and being an annoyance. Kinda like what I was for the last month. Nevertheless, Notting Hill is very pretty with it's pastel coloured terraced houses and numerous cafes, especially along Portobello Road.

I walked into a gorgeous shop called Yates Buchanan and met the lovely Katherine, who turns out not only to be from somewhere close to Cologne (her dad's from there) but also lived in Singapore many years ago. She gave me a whole load of dresses to try on. By the 12th gorgeous dress it dawned on me that a) the dresses I liked were a lot like the dresses I already owned, b) I was jetlagged and didn't want to try anymore dresses, and c) I still had to buy tix to Deutschland and hence ain't got the buckaroos to be splurging on pretty things, no matter how much I liked them, which was a lot. I said my goodbyes to the dresses and Katherine. A few doors down, was a lovely antiques shop that Christina would've loved, filled with wonders from China, Mongolia and Tibet. And! I found the rest of Samira's present. Result!

Feeling really amazingly good about my accomplishment, I thought I deserved a treat. So I strolled along Portobello Road, looked at old cameras, new clothes, quirky trinkets and there is was. Gail's. A french cafe with the most sumptuous delights that it took me 10 minutes to decide what to eat. Finally, I decided on the fruit salad as part of this detox programme I thought I may try out which involved eating a lot of fruits. I then ordered a blueberry-pistachio cake (blueberries= fruits) and a lemon drizzle cake (lemon= fruit). Unfortunately, instead of the blueberry-pistachio cake that I requested, they brought me a raspberry-almond cake. I was miffed. Until I took a bite. And the lemon drizzle. Di-vine. This detox programme is going to be so easy.

It's not over yet

Dubai is strange. They are building, well more accurately "were" building, until this whole recession thing hit the world, islands in the sea and lakes out in the desert. Why?! Now they have the famous Palm Island, which is largely uninhabited and mainly swarming with visitors come to goggle at this "8th wonder of the world", and the Atlantis Hotel with its 2500 rooms and 400AED mains. There have been complaints of murky seawaters from owners of private beaches bought on or alongside the island. It is worrying that the individuals involved in these major land-redefining projects have not considered the immediate as well as the long-term impact of reshaping the landscape on the local environment, the sea dynamics and the flora and fauna near and far. Money talks (when you have it) as the old adage goes.





I went to another shopping mall yesterday, in search of something to wear to Samira's big day. As stress levels rose and the sense of hopelessness slowly engulfed me, I was rescued. By a massage spa. Hurrah!! My heart soared and I decided to go there after grabbing my last ever freshly squeezed pineapple juice of this trip. I once had 5 in just one day in Vietnam. The experience left me abstaining from fresh pineapple juice for sometime. But then I ODed on fresh lime juice. Clearly, I have issues with moderation. Anyways, I had a "head- face" and "back-shoulder" combo massage. My body has been in a bad way for some time from lack of exercise, especially my shoulders, which didn't go un-noticed by the massage-lady. I should've also warned her about the bruises I have sans paintballing. But I forgot. I noticed the look of alarm on her face when she asked what it was that I did. I said teaching, hopefully, beginning next month..... I need to work on my "convincing" skills.

I fly back to mi casa Laandan later today. Thus will begin my arduous task of photo downloading, uploading, flickring, blogging, facebooking, tagging. And sadly it marks the end of this most awesome 45 days. But don't worry. There's still more blogging to be done. It's London baby. And I have 3 weeks to suck it dry.

Dubai's golden sands

Paintballing hurts!! I have bruises the size of chestnuts covering my body. And according to one of the paintballing staff, they take 2-3 weeks to disappear! "2-3 weeks?!!" I squealed. But it was such a rush! And I was on a high the rest of the day. I'm definitely going again (if I can) when I get back to the UK.

Singaporeans are spoilt. They have so many outdoor places to go to. We walked along a "suspension bridge"- Henderson Waves- that was over 5 km long from Alexandra Ave to the Harbourfront, and enjoyed the greenness and modernity that is Singapore.

We then went to the Marina barrage, where there was a cool breeze coming in from the sea and watched the pre-national day fireworks practise-run. Shame that most of the view was blocked by the ugly and heinous "Integrated Resort", Singapore's soon to be version of Las Vegas which will be ready next year. My Unc and Aunt then thought that it might be fun to drive me through Singapore's red light district. Singapore has a red light district?! Who would've thought. But with the economic downturn and rise in H1N1 infection in the country, business was slow on the streets. Thankfully.

I'm in Dubai now. It's 37-40 degs here. But because it's not humid, it's manageable. There's not much I can see here at the mo. The sky is dusty with sand. There was a sandstorm a few days ago, thus masking the skyline with a thick layer of sand particles. They say it should settle down in a week's time. Dubai and Sharjah have been hit badly by the economic downturn. Dubai's super-size airport was empty when I landed and many of their construction sites lie deserted with skeletons of 50-storey buildings waiting to be completed. And the many buildings that have been completed remain unfurnished and unlived. Tough times.

I'm off to a "Dune dinner safari" this evening. I should be expecting some thrill riding through the dunes, some camel riding, watch the sun set over rippling sand and dinner under the stars. I haven't seen the sky, sun or stars since I got here. I did catch a glimpse of the moon last night. Let's see if they can deliver on the last two.

Chinchapore/Singapore day 3

I love cycling. And more so along the beach. As I pedalled away under sun-dappled leaves, the gentle breeze whipping my hair, the waves crashing rhythmically against the sandy shore, I tried to remember the last time I cycled along East Coast beach. I remember cycling with my cousin Aziz, who was also my childhood bestfriend. Along with his older brother Didi, we were like the 3 musketeers, always up to no good. Before Singapore became a city of concrete and lights, houses used to be of the wooden and zinc variety built in clusters in little villages. And that was only about 20 years ago. Each summer when I'd come down to Singapore to visit, the 3 of us would go off exploring in our gran's village- wandering into neighbouring houses, running through narrow alleyways, chasing little chicks, play badminton and football (I was always the goalkeeper) till sundown, drink too much coke........ Good times.

Atikah and I happened to come across a National Geographic store today that had some amazing antique furniture. There was also a photo exhibition. We saw photos of nature and wildlife from the NG archives that make your heart sing.

Paintballing tomorrow at 9 AM. Can't wait!

P.S. Got the insect bite checked out, which is now the size of an orange. Turns out I've managed to contaminate it and now have a subcutaneous infection, which according to the doc is unusual. I am on antibiotics. 30 days in 3rd world level conditions and I get infected in superclean Singapore. Go figure.

On the go in Singapore

Say whaaat?! You want me to get off the train, carry ALL my luggage, go through immigration, and then board the train again? It's 6:40am Man! Of course, seeing as there were sniffer dogs outside the train and I had a stash of illicit gum, I complied with their demands. I got off the train with all my crap, remembering to leave my gum behind. Got my passport stamped. Then waited for a long long time to get back on cos a couple of bozo backpackers didn't understand that when they say take ALL your luggage with you through customs, that it means ALL your luggage, including your super-mondo-only-piece-of-luggage backpack. My overnight train cabin was lush. Ensuite with two to a cabin. And I had it all to myself. I finally got to Singapore at 8:40am and to mark my return to my place of birth, the heavens opened and Singapore welcomed me with big wet open arms. My Uncle says that it hasn't rained for ages. Well, what can I say. I seem to have that effect on places. And people. My gran started sobbing when she saw me.

So after an hour's rest, my cousins Nadiah and Nabilah had a whole day planned for me and took me to what felt like the entirety of Singapore, including Hairloom and Caramel- a super cute cafe fashioned in the style that I would like my cake shop to be one day- and along the riverfront at night to admire the Singapore skyline and lights. ..... 

I can't help thinking that I could happily just spend my time taking beautiful photos, baking delicious cakes, travelling loads loads more and writing about my travels. This life of course is dependent on whether I find that elusive pot of gold that I have been searching for for so long. And whilst buying tix for an exhibition, I got mistaken for an 18 year old. I'm going to be 27 next month! 27! How did that happen? And in 3 years time I'm going to be 30! Just kill me now. I know that many of you are 30 and I always say that 30 is not old, which is true and I mean it. It's just that at 27, I'm only just starting my first proper job next month, and I have yet to decide what I actually wanna do and where I want to do it. Plus, I am a drama queen. I always have a "what am I doing with my life" crisis before each birthday since turning 24. And I'm going off track. This is meant to be a travel blog.

Singapore is a city for young people. There's so much going on and so many places to go to. You could go out to a different place each night and still have many more to go to the rest of the year. These places of course are mainly of the eating, shopping and some theatre-going variety. Like KL, it's a shopaholic's dream and there's a place along the river called Clarke Quay that's just lined with restaurants and pubs. For outdoorsy stuff, there's loads to do along the coast. And if you want to go biking and trekking through the forests, a short boat ride to the surrounding islands will get you there. Atikah, another cousin of mine is taking me biking tomorrow. I can't wait. I really need some cardio exercise.

Anyways, for today Atikah was determined to help me find a wedding present for my friend and we stumbled on a cutesy little street, Haji Lane, filled with indie boutiques and vintage shops housed in old Chinese shophouses. We then found a dinky "Little Museum for Children" on Arab Street that sold stuff from the 50s, 60s and 70s. I found my dream scooter and Kelvinator there. 

For a laugh, we dropped by The Raffles Hotel, the super exclusive and expensive hotel of Singapore. I even contemplated pretending to be a guest at the hotel so that we could get into the "Resident's only" areas. It was like walking into a Merchant Ivory film- white colonial architecture with green lawns and stone fountains. I nearly expected someone dressed in cricket whites to come strolling along the corridor with a glass of Pimms, possibly on his way to the dining hall for a spot of high tea. Next was the Singapore Arts Museum (SAM), which had some fantastic paintings and photographs on display, and what I needed at this point in my trip. Strangely, in addition to my bike and the gym/exercising, the only other thing I've really missed on this trip are art galleries. Weird huh? I miss the coolness and quietness of them and being able to just walk around and look at art. I would highly recommend SAM to anyone visiting Singapore. And the Night Safari too. You were right Tristan, it was fun.

My uncles have been trying to sell me Singapore and convince me to work and move here. Which is fine if I liked super perfect-regimented-pristine-sterile cities. I don't know. I've never been very good with perfection and following instructions. I think I'm more of an edgy, slightly rough, gum-chewing kinda city girl. Or something. Whatever. What I do know is that I was bitten by some critter yesterday that has caused my right arm to slowly swell to double it's size. Bugger.