Delhi: 1 December to 4 December

We arrived in Delhi on 1 Dec 2006. I had been apprehensive about the trip after our rather negative experience with the Indian Embassy in New York. The travel advisory in our guide book did not help. From the touts at the airport, to the taxi drivers who charge exorbitant rates only to NOT take you to your hotel and of course the waiters who poison you and then take you to doctors who are in cahoots with everyone it seems. The taxi ride went well. I had arranged with the hotel for an airport pick-up. The taxi was small so our luggage had to be strapped to the roof rack. The co-driver was friendly, making small talk during the whole ride, trying to gauge how much we made so that he could name a “fair price” for a taxi ride to Agra the next day. There was nothing much to see on the ride to Old Delhi as it was dark, but it was absolutely chaotic. The continuous honking and haphazard driving was intriguing that night. Within a week, I swore that if I ever became Prime Minister of India I would outlaw the sale of car horns in India.

We stayed at the Broadway Hotel in Old Delhi near Delhi Gate. It was clean, if rather dated. The most interesting part about the hotel was the view of the rooftops from our window. We could see children flying what seemed to be a thousand kites from the rooftops. We saw women doing laundry. We witnessed men taking showers from public taps in the street, street vendors selling food to school children, and beggars holding babies (the most heart wrenching sight ever). We watched everyday Delhians go about their poverty stricken lives from our 3 star hotel window, and felt overwhelming gratitude for what we had in life. Our baby was safe at home being pampered by her grandparents. We were on a quasi holiday. We would not have to think twice about buying dinner at the restaurant downstairs where the price of our dinner would probably feed a family of 10 for a month. Made me think that life is just pure and absolute luck. It could have easily been me, or Sasha, down there.

We hired a taxi form a travel agent for the 4 hour trip to Agra the next day. It cost us 4500 Rupees (US$100) for the car, 500 Rupees for road tax, and a 500 Rupees tip. The driver makes 4500 Rupees a month. Do the math and you can understand why “normal” Indians are complaining about wealth disparity. We visited Aqbar’s tomb, and then on to the legendary Taj Mahal. It is everything that is said about it. Majestic, romantic (although there are conflicting stories about the romance factor), a work of genius, a diamond in India’s crown (since the British took the other diamond).

While I am glad that I visited the Taj Mahal, I think it is the journey there (and back) that affected me most (and will do so for a long time). In India, there are no road lanes. There is however some form of order in the absolute chaos. The drivers honk continuously to warn the others of their whereabouts. The trucks get right of way, then the cows. Lets not forget the camel and bullock carts. We pass these vehicles without caution and when we have to stop, we are accosted by beggars carrying babies, children selling key chains and fans made out of peacock feathers, men offering monkeys to pose with for pictures, and snake charmers. Sometimes you get a vehicle in your “lane” going in the opposite direction. It seems that it is sometimes faster than waiting for a U-turn. It is dusty, and smog just envelops everything. There are tents on the side of the highway. Families cook in the open. Mothers hold their babies, just sitting, and staring into nothing, as everything passes them. Next time I am taking the train.

It has been a hectic week. Arrived in KL on Saturday morning. Parents held a belated open house to celebrate the Eid on Sunday. Sunday night was spent with friends celebrating a union. Monday onwards, lunches and dinners out with friends and family, enjoying the food, the company, and the gossip. D and I are heading out to Delhi this evening, and we are still not over our jet lag. Our little unit is following S's lead, who unfortunately falls asleep at 6pm and wakes at 2.30am to play. We quickly realised that it is much better to just remain jet lagged until S gets over hers. My poor parents (or should I say the poor maid) will soon realise that the grandot's smile may not be as adorable at 3am. It will be our first seperation. While we look forward to the adventure, we know that we will miss her terribly. I wonder if she will miss us. I hope my parents realise that S does not like to be rocked to sleep as she prefers to lie flat in bed. I hope they remember that if she does not like food, she projectile vomits...but will smile as we clean her and surrounding area. I have a feeling that the next 10 days will feel like a lifetime.

Good neighbours

Last year, on December 2, D and I bought our first home together. The day after we closed, we went away to Rome and Tunisia for 3 weeks. We came back, celebrated Christmas, then we were off again somewhere. I forget where. Then I was forced to hybernate until S was delivered. Then we were off to KL and Madrid for a month. Since we have lived here, we have not stayed home for more than 3 weekends in a row, so it has been difficult cultivating friendships. We have been extremely lucky though as we have the best neighbours. Our immediate neighbours, D and C have two grown boys, A and L. A is a sophmore in college down south and L is in a boarding school in New England. They have two dogs. They have lived on this street for 15 years so know all the dirt on everyone...current and past residents included. Their immediate neighbours, J and S, also have 2 kids, A who is the most adorable 3 year old and L, the most charming 5 month old you will ever meet. J and S are closer to us in age, and very generous with parenting advice. They are also our Desperate Housewives buddies. We go over to theirs on Sunday with a bottle of wine, order Chinese and watch DH. They also very kindly DVR (like Tivo) our shows when we are away. We leave them our keys when we are away. D and C watch our house for us, and S comes in the day we get home to turn up our heat. Between the 3 households we have shared dozens of bottles of Sam Adams Ale and Pinot Noir, and tried every sushi/chinese takeaway within a 20 mile radius. When you have a baby, and drink, the home is where you socialise. When you don't have the time to cultivate friendships (and as you get older it does get much harder), having great neighbours is a blessing. When you don't have family in the city/state/country/continent....neighbours are your new family.

This time last year

Life is fleeting, that I know. Time flies, I know. It is the what seems to be super-sonic speed at which time flies and life fleets that amazes me. December last year I was preggers, on a "last hurrah" trip with D before I was to be grounded by my Ob/Gyn. December last year I was doing this...



With him...



Sleeping in this...



5 months preggers, having to pee here...



While I look back fondly (and sometimes longingly) at December 2005, I can't wait for December 2006. What adventures lie ahead..

S (44 days old) and D in Martha's Vineyard

D works at home most of the time, and I work at home all of the time. At home, our computers are on 24/7. We take our computers everywhere. We are both addicted to email and have been to the most obscure internet cafes in the world to get our fix. We realised our attachment to our computers was unnatural when we were camping in an oasis in the Sahara. We needed some light as we were in absolute darkness and needed to pee. It took us five minutes to agree on whose computer would be used to illuminate our way..battery power was precious. I lost out as D had a paper to finish...which he did... in the tent, in the middle of the Sahara (did I mention that he is a workaholic?).

S is getting quite jealous of our computers. She is fascinated by them, yet realises that they take our attention away from her. We may have to get her one of her own soon.

What I have have have to do every day is check my email and check my downloads. By this I mean I go to this site. With every new download, I feel like my existence has been affirmed. My work has been recognised, therefore I am.

Motherhood has changed me. Motherhood has changed my life. How much I have changed, and how much my life has changed will be shared in due time. In the meantime, Will Farrell has summed it up well.

"No one tells you how much attention these little children need. They can't do anything for themselves. They can't clean, they can't make money for you. They just sit around and break stuff. I'm waiting for it to get better."

If Sash were a Bond Girl, her name would be Pissy Galore. I marvel at how heavy her diaper gets sometimes. Does not make me want to change her more often. Just makes me greatful for the wonders of new diaper technology. What did parents do before the discovery of that marvelous gel in diapers?

It's raining outside. There was a tsunami warning on the west coast. Up to 200,000 people in Vancouver without power. Luckily it isn't that cold (for November). Back home, D and I have stocked up on firewood and flashlights in the event of such a disaster. I used to think that if you had gas powered furnaces, only the lights would be affected in the event of a power outage. Then someone pointed out that electricity is needed to "trigger" the furnace. So now we have firewood at home, just in case. I sometimes wonder what I would do in a War of the Worlds situation. Would I be strong and do whatever it takes to survive, or would I just shrivel up and wait for the aliens to nuke me?

Spent the morning in Yorkville...again. Yesterday was "Culture day" and today, as I have told S, is "Handbag day". I have been on the hunt for that transition handbag, which is smaller than a diaper bag, yet large enough to stuff in a bottle and a diaper, maybe even a small bottle of strained organic mangoes and pears. Not an easy task for many reasons. It has to be durable enough for those milk spills. It cannot be too "precious" due to those same milk spills. I am short hence for me, there is a fine line between handbag and handluggage. It needs to be roomy, yet small-ish. It needs to be zipped up as am wary of pick-pockets and things falling out as handbag is stuffed under plane seat. It is to be my Christmas pressie from D. He doesn't know this yet. We have an arrangement where we buy birthday and Christmas presents in advance, whenever something catches our eye (preferably somewhere we can claim back taxes paid). My birthday is after Christmas, but D bought my present last July. I will probably get him his Christmes present in India, where he will fall in love with some ridiculously ugly and ornate sculpture/painting/piece of furniture that I will hate (ok, detest), but will also love (ok, tolerate) because of his enthusiasm. My compromise will be my Christmas present. My buying said ugly souvenir will be his birthday present 2007. My having to put up with his "Isn't that (insert ornate sculpture/painting/piece of furniture) just awesome!!" ev-e-ry-time he looks at it is priceless.

Dirty Laundry

S is watching a children's show. The cartoon characters are speaking French, well, Canadian French. She seems to be enjoying the show. Yes, she watches alot of TV. When I was preggers I swore to myself that she would not watch TV as a child. That lasted for about 2 months, as she became more active and slept less. I needed to keep her entertained and she had not yet learned how to enjoy toys. So in came the Baby Einstein DVDs. She enjoys the colours, the music, and the scenes of toys in action. I feel less guilty when I have to ignore her for hours as I do my work. I am lucky though, as I notice she is enjoying her toys more by the day (and her Daddy keeps adding to her collection every day) and she is not fussed when there is no TV. She is read to every day, although it is getting more difficult for us to keep her from wanting to shove the pages into her mouth. Ah well, at least she enjoys books...eating them for now, and hopefully reading them later.

The sheets are covered with organic sweet potato and chicken casserole. One drawback of travelling with a baby is having to leave behind the bulky equipment such as high chairs and jolly jumpers. We use the jolly jumper to tire her out and it is much easier to feed her in her high chair. But on the bright side, sheets are changed every day in hotels. Hope the maids realise that the orange stains aren't skid marks..hmmmm.

Off to the Royal Ontario Museum to catch the Italian Arts and Design: The 20th Century Exhibition. Then maybe lunch in a nice cafe in Yorkville.

The family reunion went extremely well. Dr C was in a jovial, and more importantly, flush mood, so dinner for 10 was had at a landmark (ie overpriced but with ambience) prime rib restaurant…only seafood option…lobster. Wine flowed as we chatted, caught up with gossip and made plans for Christmas 06/Summer 07. D’s nieces had only just arrived as their flights were delayed and cancelled. Just like ours were as we headed to Toronto on Sunday afternoon. One gripe I have about US airlines, is the extremely bad service. The ground crew service is excellent most of the time, and I can understand their cheap, or rather non-existent on-flight service where food/drink has to be bought ala budget airlines. What I hate hate hate are the delays and cancellations. We only found out our flight to Toronto was cancelled after we were comfortably seated watching CNN in the lounge, with 30 minutes to go before boarding. No announcements….silence. I only discovered the problem on my way to top up my shortbread supply…ah yes, the rations in the lounges are equally dire. As we scrambled to get on an alternative flight we were told to rush to another terminal, to confirm our seats on another flight operated by another airline leaving 4 hours later than our original flight. This has happened to us many many times on United…lets not talk about missing luggage (which is hell when I have S’s diapers, formula and food packed in said missing luggage)…that we don’t even get angry anymore. We are resigned to, and have expected, atrocious service from US airlines for some time now. (I do acknowledge that I have not flown internally in ex Soviet Union, Africa or South America so I am sure there may be even worse airlines). Luckily we got our seat and waited it out in yet another lounge..this time they had carrot sticks…yay.

During our wait, D decided to change S’s diapers in the men’s loo. As I was reading my Sunday edition of the New York Times, I heard a blood curdling cry…which went on for quite a while (there were curious stares directed at men’s loo door) . I thought of checking up on D, but just as I was about to take a break from reading an extremely interesting article about tourism in Zimbabwe…a nice man came up to me and said “There is a lot of screaming, but everything is under control”. I continued reading and D and S came out a few minutes later…slightly teary, but diapered up. I would like to say that I had full confidence in D handling the situation…which I did, but I have to admit that I continued reading because I was more confident that had there been a problem, he would have been out of there is a flash seeking back-up support. And it was an interesting article…

Cloud Gate

It is nearly midnight. I am in a hotel room in Chicago, starving and trying to figure out where the room service menu is. As much as I would like to walk outside on the Magnificent Mile to locate a deep dish pizza or two, it is raining cats and dogs out and snow is expected later. This is my second time in the Windy City and Sasha's first (well, she was a foetus the last time we were here). My favourite thing to do in Chicago? Just walking around the Cloud Gate...wishing I had one at home. If I win the lottery, I would buy it (commissioning Anish Kapoor would be too easy) and put it in my garden. It would be mother of all garden ornaments non? In line with my "what would I buy if I am richer than Oprah" train of thought, I sometimes also ask myself where I would choose to live if I were this power hungry superpower who somehow ran the world. The last time it was Medici Palace I think...with the David as my bedside sculpture. When I dream, I dream big.

We are here to have a sort of family reunion. Dr C is here for the American Heart Association meetings. I will be meeting D's half brother and his two daughters for the first time ever, and D's sister will also be here with her family. We are spending the day together tomorrow then back our seperate ways. Should be an interesting day.

Testing the waters

Has it been nearly a year and a half?? On a whim, I woke up this morning and decided to look at this blog. Ok, not really a whim. D woke up early (for us, 8am is dead early), kept pestering me to join him for breakfast (ie cook him breakfast), and so here I am at 10am reading about my past life. Funny, it seems like a lifetime ago when I was so upset that I could not find accomodation in Dublin, when I went shopping in Milan with my fuddies (fag buddies to those not in the know..and before I am accused of being horribly politically incorrect...they came up with the term themselves...so there!), when I spent ages haggling in Shanghai. And so...here I am, a lifetime later. Or should I say a life later.

In brief, from Milan, D and I moved to Troy, NY. We are still here. We had a baby. S is the most adorable baby in the world, but then look at her parents. I submitted my thesis. Still waiting for a defense date, but I FINISHED MY THESIS!!

I think I shall maintain this blog. I have of course lost all my blogfriends...wonder what happened to them?? I am not really a nomad anymore...well, at heart at least. We still travel loads, but for me, home is where D and S are. I am still wondering...so yes, I shall maintain this blog. And now, I introduce to you...S.



Note: While very much a princess, we do not normally dress her as Princess Leia. Only for Halloween...

Milano...non

I have been here 3 days and have not seen a single Milano sight!! Am getting itchy feet...Good news is the presentations went well..again, if I do say so myself. Yesterday was hectic as had back to back presentations and after a lunch spent having yummy roasted vegetables and light pasta while trying to look interested and charmed as others around me discussed data sets, variables, chow tests and ordered logit models, I discussed a paper presented by a rather yummy Italian academic (of course this is an objective observation as am a married woman).

I am in love with the words Prego, Allora and Grazie. I use them liberally...then have to apologise when others think I am Italian and start conversing in the beautiful language. I want to die and be reborn in this glorious country!!

I have one more discussion this evening. Tonight, my good fuddy (this is not a typo) will be driving down to Milan with another fuddy of ours and we are hitting Milan tomorrow..big time. Shopping with them will be fun as they WILL tell me that my ass looks hideous in a pair of jeans and they will do their best to persuade me to part with hard earned bag to get that adorable purse. And we will ogle Italian men over a huge bottle of vino...

Dublin airport

Take note, gate A5 of Dublin airport has free wireless access. Also take note that checking in is a nightmare and if you are flying out of here today, almost all the flights are delayed. My flight to Milano sure is.

No time to write much as the opportunity cost of this update is getting ready for the next leg of the conference marathon. My 2 presentations at the conference at Trinity College went well. Even if I do say so myself. I have 2 presentations and one discussion tomorrow, and the final presentation on the 1st. Will write more about my amazing 3 day tour of Southern Ireland with the zanniest group of 14 PaddyWagon-ers. Now back to my slides.....

At last, I can actually access my site. Now no excuses for spelling errors.

The last few days with Dr C have been quite fun. I think the Scot in him likes my feeble attempts at haggling. We had our first month anniversary dinner at M on the Bund...Dr C included. The weather was fabulous, smog levels low so you could actually see the buildings across the river, even the masses on the Bund, the food delicious and the conversation was flowing as easily as the wine. On Saturday, my last day, we took a cruise down the river. I bought the wrong tickets so we ended up on the peasant boat...no air-conditioning. But the crew were kind enough to drag out a few plastic chairs so we sat up on the bow. Turned out great actually, and 3 times cheaper. We went to the antique market again as Dr C wanted to get a couple of 5 feet cranes for his garden. He likes his garden ornaments. We ended the day with a rather overpriced chinese dinner at the Peace hotel and drinks at the Jazz bar. I gave Dr C a huge hug as I would not be seeing him until end July.

Arrive in NL yesterday evening. As we were landing, although the air was clean and refreshing, and the weather glorious, I felt quite sad and wished I was back in smoggy Shanghai. The seperations are getting harder and I felt awful knowing that Dr C would be touring Beijing on his own. We did not know how to keep him entertained, what with D working such long hours, so we arranged a private 4 day guided tour of Beijing. How would he find the guide at the airport?? What if he didn't? Did he remember to take the list of phone numbers I had jotted down? Would the guide understand his need to rest? Maybe I should have insisted that D lend him his mobile..

And so, I land, and what do I find?..hundreds of passengers stranded as there was a power failure and the trains were not running. I considered getting a hotel room, but decided to trust the Dutch. The trains were on track within an hour (they are very good at this sort of thing the Dutch) and I was off. On the train, I began thinking about how ridiculous this commute is. I made a decision. I would let go of my room and just do what I have been doing for the past 18 months, do my thesis while on the road.

I got home last night and told my landlady and she was surprisingly very supportive (as if it mattered). So supportive that we spent the whole day today getting boxes, me packing, and transporting 9 boxes to the post office to be mailed to Canada (her support mattered..heh). Funny how your whole world can be reduced to 9 boxes approximately 15 kilos each. I am really a nomad now...

A nomad who is freaking out. I have to give 4 presentations on Monday, I have not prepared the slides, I cannot get accomodation in Dublin (bloody Coldplay and U2 just have to have concerts in Dublin next week) and so decided to sign up for a tour...but the tour ends on the 24th while my conference accomodation is only provided from 26 June onwards...the pubs there had better be good as I may need to cheer myself up a bit...

DrC and I set off this morning to explore Shanghai. Last night was "globalisation night". A Malaysian chick takes her Canadian dad-in-law to the French quarter in Shanghai to watch the State of the Origin match (Aussie Rules) at the British Bulldog Pub. Which is located opposite the American Embassy. We Quesidillas and bangers and mash.

This morning, we viewed Shanghai from the upper most observation deck of the Oriental Pearl Tower. As we had not had breakfast, we had brunch at the revolving restaurant. DrC has trouble walking, but he has a mean independant streak, so these little breaks had to be made inconspicuously. Our next stop was the Yu Yuan gardens, where we sat in the pavillions at discrete intervals to admire each section of the amazing garden. We finished our day tour at the Starbucks which faces the famous tea house. DrC was dripping in sweat and in obvious need of rest. I introduced him to the Iced Mocha grande while he regaled me with stories of his childhood and his courtship of D's mum.

We might actually go for some Chinese food tonight. I want him to try duck's tongue. Yummm..

I am off to the airport to pick up DrC, D's dad. He is visiting us for a week, then hopefully off to Beijing next week. We have insisted that he walk on the wall, stand in the middle of Tian Amen and explore the Summer Palace. He is 78...this is the time to do we say.

I suspect he is afraid that he may not recognise me, what with this being China and all. He lives in the prairies, so I totally understand. He jokingly suggested that I hold up a sign at the arrival hall. I have made one...It reads "Dr C: President of Celine Dion Fanclub."

Reminds me of the time a friend held one up for me at Heathrow, except that read "SJ: Alcoholics Anonymous."

Mahjong in the shade

Antique market in Shanghai

What did we expect

Michael Jackson has been acquited. What did we expect? It seems that his mother began to cry, Randy and LaToya were jubilant. M daintily dabbed his eyes and hugged his lawyers. The jurors deliberated over 7 days and took only 2 votes. They found there was insufficient evidence, and they didn't like the mother. Was it weak prosecution or masterful defence?

Shenzhen

Shenzhen is not what I expected it to be. From the rather daunting pieces of random cautionary advice given by D's Shenzhen-based project mates, I thought it would be more of a cowboy town, like Tijuana or Johore Baru. You know, those towns that seem to thrive only by the grace of a much more cosmopolitan and expensive city nearby. The place to get cheap beers and a decent meal at halfway decent prices. Shenzhen however is so very much a city alive. While it's topography is very similar to that of Hong Kong, but without being surrounded by water, it has its own charm, and quite unique from Beijing or Shanghai.

We arrived at the airport very late at night on Friday, and at the hotel very very early on Saturday morning. I hate arriving at night because I prefer to get my bearings when I first arrive. We slept a bit and woke up again at a more decent hour (noon...heh) to grab a bite to eat before wandering about. D had the weekend off...yay! Emerging from the hotel, armed with a trusty map, we looked for a coffee shop. We found one round the corner from the hotel that serves THE BEST French toast. Fluffy crustless egg drenched triangles with a thin layer of tahini in the middle. We had Blue Mountain coffee on Saturday and Hawaiian Kuona yesterday. What can I say, we really like the French toast.

After breakfast, we hopped into a taxi and pointed to the Shenzhen Fairy Lake Botanical Garden. We wanted to see the famous petrified forest and the Paleontological Museum. Of course once we got there all the maps of the 8000 mu park were only in Chinese. We find that unlike Shanghai and Beijing, tourist spots in Shenzhen mainly cater for Chinese tourists. We finally managed to get to the museum by hopping on a bus and another open air tram at the Hongfa Buddhism temple. After exploring the museum and cooling ourselves down with a nice cold drink in the petrified forest, we found our way back to the entrance of the park and found a cab to take us to Dapeng Ancient Village, which is 45 minutes away.

Dapeng is located in the eastern part of Shenzhen and is said to have been built during the Ming Dynasty to fight against the Japanese invaders. The village is surrounded by a wall, and you enter through a rather imposing imperial like gate. Once you enter, you find yourself in what can only be said to be a rather dilapidated housing area. We walked along the little alleys, looking into people's houses, wondering how they lived in such conditions. Mind you, this was not a recreation. Trash was just left laying about, and you could smell the lack of proper sanitation. After a nice stroll, wandering into several residences that had been remodeled in a museum-like way, and throwing oranges into a wish tree (D found this to be the second most enjoyable part of the day), we decided to call it a day. We had not counted on there being no cabs in such a remote area. After unsuccessfully trying to flag a cab/hitch a ride on the main road, we were approached by a man who kept pointing towards the direction we wanted to go and to the back of his motorcycle. We kept repeating the words "taxi". He kept on nodding and finally we figured he wanted to give us a ride. As we were up sh*t creek anyway, we both hopped on the motorbike and whizzed down the highway..helmetless and destination unknown. After 5 minutes, we found ourselves in a larger village, at the bus station. We were so touched by his kindness, especially when he refused payment and D had to practically shove cash into his pocket (This dangerous motobike ride was by far D's favourite part of the day...what can I say, he is just a boy). We took a taxi back to the hotel, freshened up, and met up with J at the Hilton Bar for a few G&Ts on the 56th floor.

On Sunday, after our French toast, we took a taxi to Minsk World. The Minsk is an anti-submarine and anti-aircraft USSR aircraft carrier which has been refurbished to become a sort of theme park. It is said to be the "first large military park of the world combining the functions of sight seeing, recreation and popular science and national defence education together". We just wanted to go because it provided us an opportunity to stand on the decks of an aircraft carrier. We found the Russian dancers performing on stage in the middle of the plane "garage" quite funny, but the Chinese "soldiers" in camouflage tight trousers and halter neck shirts doing "military maneuvers" in ballet slippers had us rolling on the floor. The size of the ship, the 48 missiles primed and ready for action, the armoury next to the recreation room...now that was nothing to laugh about.

After sweating half a day on the Minsk, I persuaded D to get a haircut with me, Thai style, at the hotel. This means that instead of sitting in chairs, we lie down on a special modified beds which have a sink at one end. Our heads are suspended on padded head supports while our hair is being washed. After the hair/head massage, the shampoo girl then proceeds to massage our arms and hands, and our shoulders. Once that is done, only then are we moved to the chairs to get our hair cut. All this for RMB60 each.

We had roast goose for dinner. A perfect end to a great weekend.

It really is quite funny. I can update my blog through "blogger" but cannot view it as "blogspot.com" is unavailable.

I am multitasking here. Typing, trying to search for CNN on the hotel tele, and waiting for the water to boil as in desperate need of some hot tea. It has been a long day. With map in hand, I sought out sights I missed last December. I decided to walk it but did not count on poor orientation skills and locals pointing me in the opposite direction. After walking in circles, finally found a gaggle of aunts who provided me with pretty detailed directions, in Mandarin of course, but I found what I was looking for (sweet they were). Which was Beihan Park, a lovely little park behind the Forbidden Palace. Strolled around for a bit, enjoying the good weather, (dammit, 90 channels and still no CNN) people watching,before making my way toTien Amen Square. I stand under Mao's portrait, trying to visualise the chaos and carnage on that fateful day. It disturbs me so I head in the direction of Jiongua Lu, towards the silk market. On my quest to find a carpet.

After walking for 45 minutes I finally find the new site of Silk Street Market. The one D and I went to in December is no more and in place of the open market stalls, a brand spanking new mall. I am on a mission with no time to lose. I locate a carpet I like and steel myself for the game we are about to play. A price is quoted, I gasp in horror, and get ready to walk out. Another price is then given, I hesitate at the exit and without counter-offering, walk back showing slightly more interest in the carpet. After being shown a few more carpets, I name a ridiculously low figure. They gasp in shock horror but show me what I can afford. I hesitate. This goes on for another 2 and a half hours. After an 80% discount, I come out of the market with a divine silk carpet. Paying less than what I anticipated.

Shanghaied

At last, I have finally been able to find a way to access blogspot. It took me much longer than finding a route to the University website, but I did it. Now, just have to figure out what to write..heh.

I am finding this second trip to Shanghai much more interesting than the first. Granted it was a very short visit last December, and we only found just enough time to get in the main tourist sites. This time however, I am getting a better sense of the city, its people and its extremely vibrant cosmopolitan "underbelly". With D spending very long hours at the office, I have been able to spend whole afternoons just strolling along the tree lined streets of the French Concession, looking into the old rather dilapidated colonial mansions, imagining what it must have been like in yesteryear to live in such elegant surroundings. When I get hungry, I just find a little shop and with alot of hand signals and smiles, I order what I think will be edible. Inevitably I get a bowl of something delicious for ridiculously low prices. At night, D and I will catch a cab and head towards Xin Tiandi, a pedestrian mall of cafes, bars and boutiques (like Shanghai Tang) set in restored colonial buildings. Ironically, this area where a G&T can cost from RMB40 to 70 (a price of a meal in a nice restaurant elsewhere), is also the site of the First National Congress of the Communist Party.

While I enjoy my daily jaunts into the city, where I just get a cab, point to an area on the map, and wear down my walking shoes until I get tired and get into another cab to take me home, I enjoy my weekends with D the most. Last weekend we had breakfast near the Dongtai Antiques market where we strolled along the supposedly antique laden stalls, looking through mounds and mounds of pottery, carvings, bowls and jade. We had no intention of buying anything until we wandered into a furniture shop and found a gorgeous cabinet. The price was very reasonable but I wanted to look around before we made a decision. We then discovered that the shop was only a showroom and that the factory was not too faraway by cab. So of course D and I were flagging a cab within seconds. We got to the factory, looked around, and spent the next 3 hours haggling over a solid elm antique cabinet, 2 smaller cabinets to be used a bedside tables and a coffee table. After 3 hours we got them to knock down 60% of the asking price and to ship the things to NY only in August. While I am pretty sure that we could have got them to take off another 5%, it just felt like a very fair compromise. Also, unlike in Beijing, where the shopkeeper will pull out a figure from thin air and inflate it 10 times when they see D, the starting prices were quoted on a the price tags.

After our extremely fruitful day, we decided to have drinks on the terrace of M on the Bund. We liked it so much we made a reservation for our first month anniversary dinner next week. We saw the sun set and headed home. Where we find out that D's Dad may be visiting us next week. He may be joining us for our anniversary dinner.

I have been so busy that I have been unable to even think of updating this blog. This wondering nomad is going to be on the move in a few hours so what do I do...spend the few precious minutes I have in my soon to be vacated office alleviating guilt.

I have had to pack up all my lovely books and files into nice big boxes so the movers will be able to transport them to the building across the road into my brand spanking new personal office on 22 June. Why am I packing so soon you ask?? Well, in addition to packing my lovely books and files during the day, at night I have been packing my lovely clothes and shoes (much more appreciated after lost but later found luggage episode last week) into dinky suitcase as leaving for Shanghai this afternoon. So just as I am about to be absent from my office for months on end, the administration decide to give me my own room. I have no idea where this room is, and when I get back here in August I just know that I will be faced with nightmare of trying to locate my room, boxes and computer, but at this moment in time I am just so very happy to have my own personal space. Albeit unable to enjoy it...

I love travelling, I really do, but sometimes I think travelling can only be fully appreciated if you have a homebase to return to, a sanctuary to look forward to when you tire of the travels. After leaving NL this afternoon, I will only be back here for a couple of days end June before hitting the road again for various conferences until end August. Just enough time to do laundry I hope. I have been thinking of giving up my room here, but where would I store my personal rubbish? In KL with my parents? In Canada with D's dad? No, I think in my heart I want to be a traveller, but not really a nomad. I know I need to at least feel some sort of connection with homebase, and for the moment my homebase is a little room where I store clothes and shoes that do not travel with me, and various bits and bobs that I am sure I will chuck when I do finally move to a home.. somewhere...else...where ever that may be.

On my last trip to KL, on the national airlines, I felst a bit sad when the stewardess announced "And to all our Malaysian passengers, welcome home" . If only...

On a less melancholic note, I have printed out detailed Shanghai walking tour suggestions which I downloaded from the net, and various restaurant suggestions. I was there in February for only a few days hence just stuck to the lonely planet suggestions. This time I intend to see the real Shanghai...well, as much as I can with a very conspicuous ang mo trailing me...

My Interview

I have been so swamped that I have decided to restart this blog with something simple, just to get myself into the blog of things again. I have been slapped with the Interview Game baton from Rara, so here goes:

1. When and where have you been happiest?

This is very difficult as I am quite a happy person generally. Or should I say I am generally not unhappy. As such, I have so many happy moments, every day, any day, in the past and I am sure in the future. Take for example today. I am still jet lagged, I missed my flight to Zurich yesterday hence have missed a course I was so looking forward too, and they have not located my luggage. Most of my worldly possessions (not to mention new dress and adaptor for laptop) could at this very moment be in KL, Singapore, Amsterdam airport or Zurich. But I woke up this morning feeling quite happy that I actually had an extra tootbrush and miniature tubes of toothpaste to use. And I felt happy that I had left behind a few pieces of underwear behind and therefore do not have to cycle into work commando. I am feeling happy at this moment because I have recieved some new data which will enable me to enhance a chapter I am trying to get done. I may just never get back my suitcase and its contents, but I am sure that I will feel happy shopping for new underwear...

But I digress...when and where have I been happiest? Well, it would have to be 7.30 pm on 17th May in a tiny apartment in Coogee sitting next to D when he agreed to be my partner in crime....my Robin or Tonto...forever. Or could it have been at 1.00 am on 18th May after D and I and 10 other friends finished off 4 bottles of bubbly and 12 bottles of vino...

2. Do zebras go to heaven? All of them?

Let me first say that this answer is only an opinion. My view on this issue is not a result of any in depth research carried out in the area of veterinary philosophy, religious studies, law and animals studies and especially the area of animals and religion.

I have this issue with all animals going to heaven. I really don't think it is fair that just because one mammal who has a larger brain, hence assumed to have the ability to get into more mischief, has more of a probability of NOT getting into heaven. How do we know that some Zebras, given half a chance would not become raging cross dressing peadophiles? How do we know that any Zebra given opposable thumbs would opt to do what Mother Theresa did so well?? Huh?? Huh?? How do we know that they are not at this moment planning to take over the world and kill all of us so called meaner humans? We know they can take on horses...documented by hollywood recently too.

But on another level, maybe they are all in "heaven". If heaven is neither here nor there, then it can be anywhere. Like a state of mind. I have not seen any Zebra mensa test results, nor have I heard of any going into therapy, so maybe they all live in their own la-la land...sounds like heaven to me. Or if it is a physical place, could heaven be like the plains of Africa? If that is Zebra heaven (assuming all zebras believe in the one true God), the bad (or Mormon)Zebras are presumably banished to zoos, hence not all Zebras go to heaven.

But really, I have nothing against them. They have not done anything to me. Unlike those damn chickens. One chased and continuously pecked me as a child hence my love of little chicken hearts preferably cooked in curry. Nope, Zebras have not affected my life in any way, so I hope they all go to heaven. If not, how will be have Zebra patterned cushions to laze about on up there..

3. Why did the chicken cross the road?

To get away from me.

4. If you had a choice betweeen two extremes: would it be the freezing cold environment or scorcher of a weather? why?

I hate sweaty armpits and I look adorable in pink angora. Go figure..

5. Are fortune tellers to be believed?

No, not all are to be believed. In hindsight, the ones that got my fortune wrong are not to be believed and the ones that were within the ballpark should be believed.

But one that is definitely not a catcher in the rye is a palm reading offspring of Omar Shariff running a carpet shop in Capadocia, Turkey. He told me in mid May 2004 that I would be married in 3 months. I was on a Thelma & Louise trip with not a Brad in sight so I pooh-poohed it for all it was worth (but not too much as the man was generously pouring the local vino). Then off I hop to Cambridge where I met D, blah blah blah, and 3 months later flew off to Sydney to hang out for a spell. Unbeknownst to me he was at that time already looking for ring....so yes, some fortune tellers are to be believed.

The Rules of the Game (Cut and pasted from Rara's site)

1. If you want to participate, leave a comment below saying "interview me."

2. I will respond by asking you five questions - each person's will be different.

3. You will update your journal/blog with the answers to the questions.

4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview others in the same post.

5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

I am getting free wireless service from God knows where. Have never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Here I am, sitting at the dining table, trying to finish yet another article and suddenly my computer signals to me. Go online it says. Wireless Netwok Connection connected. I click on the icon and lo and behold..the promise land! I love technology. Especially free access. Unfortunately, I must get back to article and changing existing cites to conform with the Harvard Bluebook style. But I had to get this out. What use is free technology if I can't get any benefit from it.

1. I am nearly done with consulting report.

2. I found a whole stack of Schweppes Diet Tonic Water at the local Woolworths.

3. I am now sipping GUILT FREE G&T!!

4. I am so going to have a good weekend....

I've just had to tell a friend who is here on holiday with his boyfriend that I can't have a girly lunch with him on the Harbour. Since arriving in Sydney I have been running around like mad. I have a consulting deadline to meet, with the report due yesterday,as usual, so I have not even had the time to go on usual afternoon strolls. All play and no work makes S a cash poor girl. But all is not lost. Have got myself semi-organised enough to get D converted...or as the converter says "returned" to the faith. Much much easier than I though it would be, considering that D only recieved the crash course on the 10 commandments the night before...I mean 11, to be divided into 2 categories. Of course we found sites with more than 12 basic tenets, and that threw us off a bit. During the interview, the nice interviewer kept throwing arabic and malay religious words at me in the hope that I could translate for D. I however kept giving him blank looks, and worse, just guessed. After a while he left me out of it. Lets just say that D is now a Johan in spite of me. Yup, I chose Johan. Much easier for me to remember if need be, and D likes it (after I told him that it does not matter if he comes in second, he will always be a champion). It appeals to the sportsman in him. He was jaywalking home like a suicidal maniac after I told him that he was as sinless as a baby. Well, up to the point he recklessly ignored my complaints about his jaywalking. He knows that in the faith, not listening to the future wife is a big sin...mucho grande bad point against soul type sin.

Off in a minute to the local flight center. Booking ticket back to KL for a short visit.

I recieved some bad news yesterday and the first thing I did was call D. I was pretty sure that the time difference is +7...or 5...or 8. Actually I am not sure at all, but he is my fiance and he jolly well better answer my calls whenever. I called him in the afternoon my time. And I kept calling him in 2 hour intervals. I should have just googled "time difference AU" but I was busy dialling his number. By the evening (again my time), I was getting worried as we had not spoken for a whole day. I had visions of him lying dead on the street somewhere near the Indian takeaway, victim of a hit and run, mugging, or just mistaken identity. Of couse I was also mentally telling him off as he does tend to dangerously jay walk. I am of the wait till the green man blips persuasion, while he is of the but there are no cars persuasion. I sometimes wonder what our future will hold for us.

I also had visions of a serial killer entering the flat and killing him. Of course I then remembered that as an academic, nobody will know that he is missing. Name one student who would bother to ask why a lecturer does not turn up for class. So I knew deep down, as I was eating my pasta with tuna sauce, that I would probably be the one to find the body when I arrive on Monday. Oh dear, that means that no one will meet me at the airport. I hate that. Must remember to note D's address in diary just in case.

But what if by some lucky chance someone did realise he has gone awol, called the police, and they broke into his flat to find his body. Wouldn't the investigators check his messages? Oh no, they would not have his security code, so they would have to get it from the telephone company. May take a few hours. But if they did get it then they would be able to listen to my messages. Then maybe they would call me and tell my WHY HE IS NOT ANSWERING MY CALLS! Ok, admittedly, there have only been 3 calls, but I really do hate keying in all the numbers from the phone card.

If I find the body, then I would have to be the one to get police. Would I be a suspect? What if I got blood on my shoes or they find my hair in the apartment? Just in case my passport and phone calls are insufficient to prove that I could not have killed him, I went down to see have a chat with my landlady. I have seen enough cop shows to know I need an alibi.

Then D calls. His flight just got in. I told him that I was busy setting up an alibi in case I get questioned during his murder enquiry. He told me to stop watching CSI Miami: New York: Las Vegas and FBI Crime Files, and get some sleep.

I am on the move again. Well, not today. In the office as usual today, but instead of doing work as I should be, I have been online trying to figure plane and train schedules. I was bad girl over the weekend. While chatting on the phone with D, we realised that there was nothing holding me here for the next few weeks. I have collected as much data as I can for the next chapter of my thesis, which I have to finish by end April. So we discussed a few possible dates and within 20 minutes, I had a ticket being issued somewhere in Canada, to be couriered here in a few days. Thank God for airmiles as it is very difficult to be spontaneous if I have to wait for travel agencies to open. I leave Sunday. I haven't even unpacked from my last trip.

But of course this morning, even before I get my first caffiene hit, I find out that I have, have, have to be in a little village in Switzerland for a course on 23 May...which just happens to be the day I touch down in NL. So frantic calls to Switzerland, SQ, KLM, Swiss Air and online checks for possible trains to said small village...and life is on even keel again. I will be slightly late for course, and I will be travelling non-stop for 2 days, possibly sprinting to catch first available connections and respective trains. But as of this afternoon, life is on even keel. Now, to tell my boss that I will be away for 7 weeks.......

MHRIP

It is Karol Wojtyla's (Pope John Paul II) funeral today. I watched a bit of his funeral proceedings before heading out to work this morning. Noticed King Abdullah of Jordan and his gorgeous Queen, King Juan Carlos and his Queen, Hamid Karzai, Tony, and so many other dignitaries. Got a bit sniffy, as I usually do at funerals, yet awed at the effect he must have had on the millions of people in attendance. May he rest in peace.

I do not mean any disrespect in any way, as I have only the utmost respect for the small town boy from Poland who grew up to be the head of the Roman Catholic Church (not counting the big guy up there). While his inflexibility on issues with international ramifications eg birth control in Africa, drew strong criticism, he took criticism in stride. "It's a mistake to apply American democratic procedures to the faith and truth," the Pope has said. "You cannot take a vote on the truth." Even though I don't totally agree with his beliefs, he was a man of sterling integrity and faith. Traits I cannot help but admire.

I only have one issue. If he was the second in command, why was he so reluctant to go meet the boss? He hung on there for quite a bit, through crippling illness fulfilling what he believed was his calling. I may be wrong but if anyone had a VIP express lane through to the gates, I am, thinking it would be him. I would want to get there early, like when I get an upgrade and am able to have a drink at the airport lounge before the flight. Does he know something I don't?

The weather has turned dreary this morning...hmmm..

Just off the Ponte Vecchio, there is a little cafe that serves the most decadant Hot Chocolate. D and I found this cafe by accident as we decided to take a rest after walking what seemed like miles in the Pitti Palace. We sat down, ordered 2 hot chocolates and a chocolate and kahlua ice cream sundae. Did I mention that my soul mate not only thinks my Noodles in soup delicious (Maggi Mee) but he also likes chocolate more than I do. Is it fate or what??!!

Well, when the chocolate arrived it was basically melted chocolate in a cup. Maybe they added in a teaspoon of hot water but we couldn't tell. We didn't drink it, we had to spoon the stuff into our mouths. Suffice it to say we were so wired the rest of the day we were able to walk for hours.

When I start a new post, I always have trouble thinking of a title. Funny that, considering I am generally thought to have an overactive imagination. Maybe I am just not imaginative (Hmm, is that a word? Having a non-English mother tongue, living in NL, and dating a Canadian is really doing wonders for my vocabulary).

I am yet again in my office trying to do anything but work. Used the old settling down and following up on missed email excuse yesterday, and can't come up with anything today. Perhaps this lethargy I am feeling is the onset of a flu? I wish...

I will feel this way for the next few days. I know. Because I always feel this way after yet another goodbye at yet another airport. That's the thing with LDRs. You spend days planning the next meeting. Days arranging it. Weeks waiting in anticipation. These weeks feel like months as you are neither here nor there. Then you spend glorious days together, while trying not to think about the impending departure date. The next thing you know you get home, feeling even more displaced as you are even more convinced that the home you used to call a home is no longer that. Then just as you get acclimatised so to speak, it is time again to arrange that next meeting. Here we go again.

The 2 weeks we had together were fabulous as usual. Ticked 2 things I had to do before I die off my list (TTDBID list). Well actually I cheat. I don't actually have a list. I am not one of those people that have a list ex ante. I have them ex post. Let me explain. You know how some people draw up an actual physical list, while others have them in mind. I am of the latter breed. And you know how some people have lists and stick to them, like when they go to a supermarket. Well, when I go to a supermarket I have a mental list of healthy food I have to buy but end up with an aubergine, carrots, pasta, Doritos, Dip, Frozen chocolate cake, Diet coke (technically healthy as no sugar), jelly babies and bratwurst. I then convince myself that these would have been on the list if I had thought of them. I am legally trained therefore am trained to convince others and especially myself anything.

While in Berne, recovering from daily post conference drinks, we decided to hop to Venice for a couple of days. Of course while at the train station booking tickets, we figured on the way back we would check out Florence. A bit out of the way, but yet so close..and who knows when we will ever be back in the area (well, actually, will be back in Italy in June for another conference, but D can be forgetful and I plead selective amnesia). Back home with our tickets (3 days Venice, 4 days Florence, back to Berne then off to Geneve airport for respective flights) we then proceeded to persuade lil bro and wifey to join us in Venice. As they were driving with lil kiddies, D and I had to amend plans to just get any old hotel when we got to Venice and had to go online and make real bookings. Lucky for us we did as it turned out that it was Easter weekend (ah so thats why those eggs were being sold everywhere) and we had to book a room each in 2 different hotels on Lido. Initially, I was not too thrilled about not being on the mainland, but I felt it was important that lil bro and I have some family time. And am I glad that we chose Lido. It is the last stop on line 1 of the Vaporetti, but only 10 minutes from San Marco. On the first day we were there, we were rather relieved to get away from the hustle and bustle of tourist congested Venice and back to the quaintness of Lido. I dread to imagine Venice in the Summer.

It is difficult to describe Venice as it just has to be experienced. I loved the fact that we could walk everywhere. We could hop on the vaporetti and just choose a stop to explore. To experience the richness of culture (I would have added art and history if not for the fact that it would pale in comparison to Florence, our next stop). We packed in as much activity as we could on the first day, by visiting Piazza San Marco, the Basilica, and Palazzo Ducale. We walked everywhere, crossing not only the Rialto and Academia bridges, but oh so many smaller unknown yet crucial bridges. We visited the Guggenheim and Ca'Doro. We walked, we talked, and we ate. I vetoed D's suggestion to hop on a gondola as 1) the Canal seemed to be continously in a state of gridlock, 2) I did not see hear a single singing gondalier and 3) if I am going to pay €90 for a ride, I want to have the Canal to myself and I want Marco or Luigi to sing his heart out.

Taking a break from the mainland, the next day we took yet another vaporetti to Murano where we had luch and just admired the fabulous (also expensive) glassworks. Then it was back to the mainland to have dinner. Our final day was spent walking around the Jewish Ghetto and having lunch at a Tratorria, sitting by a small canal just absorbing Venice before we headed out to Florence.

We arrived in Florence and it took a bit of getting used to, what with there being no canals. We had booked a hotel through the internet the night before and was pleasantly surprised that it was a stone's throw away from the Duomo. As usual we dumped our luggage and headed straight out to explore Firenze.

Upon chucking our luggage, D and I headed to the Duomo to climb the tower. We would have tried for the dome if not for the extremely long line. The view of Florence and the surrounding Tuscan hills from the tower made the train journey and the climb oh so very worthwhile. After the much easier descent, we headed to the Piazza de la Signora to have dinner. I know, this is rather touristy, but where else can you have dinner in the presence of Ammannati's Mannerist Fountain of Neptune and Cellini's Perseus, holding Medusa's severed head. And not to forget the replica of David. The mind boggles to think that more than 800 years ago, there would have been others in the same spot admiring those same works of art. After dinner, we walked towards the Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore (Duomo) to sit on the steps to admire Ghiberti's gates to paradise which took 50 years to complete (admittedly a copy in place now after the great flood). We walked to the hotel feeling lucky to be in the presence of such history and art, together.

The next day, we signed up for a walking tour. If time is of the essence these sort of tours are fabulous. We were herded back to the Duomo to admire Brunelleschi's dome and to learn the history behind the pink, white and green marble facade of the Duomo. And of course the Rennaisance-esque renovations. We also learned that Brunelleschi lost out to Ghiberti in the competition to create the gates to paradise, and he retreated to Rome where he came up with the idea to build the dome. Funny how fate works..

After the Duomo, we walked around the city, stopping where various other marvelous works of art (or where the originals would have been) were placed. Sometimes casually on a building facade. Sometimes the buildings themselves. The final stop before lunch was the Ponte Vecchio, the oldest surviving bridge which leads us across the Arno River. The bridge is lined with Jewelry stores (ages ago there were butchers but the Medici's changed all that). D was sweating, and I don't think it was because of the walk.

Yet another Penne Arrabiata (my absolute fave) lunch, and it was time to head to Galleria dell'Accademia to pay homage to Michelangelo's David, the original. Now this was never really on my list of TTDBID, but is so on there now. We spent ages just basking in his beauty. Of course we also took some time to look at his 4 slaves, the unfinished works.

Beer and Pizza at the Piazza de la Signora for dinner.

The next day we explored the Pitti Palace the Boboli Gardens. It had been a rather hectic week so we just walked aimlessly the rest of the day, trying to spot the flood markings on the buildings around Florence. D and I had differing views on what to do the rest of the visit. He insisted we go to Sienna and I wanted to go to Pisa. We compromised and did both. We took a day tour to Sienna and San Giminagno, the former being the venue of the famous horse race within the piazza. On our final full day, we took an early train to Pisa, headed straight for the Duomo and the tower and signed up for the walk to the top of the tower. To stand at the base of the tower had been on my TTDBID list, but I have added the climbing up to the top bit (I know I cheat by simulateously adding and tickeing off but in my world, I rule!) We rushed back in time to catch a highlights tour of the Uffizi gallery where a tour guide not only explained in detail the works of da Vinci, Botticelli, Michaelangelo, Raffaello, and Canaletto but also pointed out the other more important works (crucial if you only have a few hours). New add and check: To stand in front off and behold the Primavera and the Birth of Venus.

There is an illness attributed to the beauty of Florence. Stendhal's Disease is an illness diagnosed in about 12 visitors to Florence each year, and resulting from the culture shock and bedazzlement when one visits Florence. Although I can't say I succumbed to this specific disease, I am, and will forever be enamoured with Florence. A new item to add: Must visit Florence again.

Italie

Cannot write much as I am in an internet cafe in Florence. From Berne we took a train to Venice, via Milan. It was a fabulous ride as the weather was perfect and we sipped white wine as we rolled along the Swiss then Italian Alps. Tried to look out for George's house on Como. We spent a few days in Venicia (Gorgeous) then too another train to Firenze. We are now in Florence. Heading out to Pisa for the day in a few minutes, so have to go. Will provide more details later.

Bern-in to go somewhere

I am at this moment in an internet cafe located in the basement of Loeb, a huge department store in Bern. As my brother has been travelling for quite a bit he stopped his internet connection at home and so D and I have resorted to taking a tram into the city centre every morning to check our email. Of course this has to be the week that we are expecting some rather urgent mails.

It has been a hectic week. Flew from NL to Geneve, hoping to meet up with D at the luggage carousel. Instead, we met at passport control. Not only did we get to kiss and cuddle 15 minutes more this break (we both cross respective seas on the 3rd), but I was able to cut the line...heh. The conference went well. It was a global multi disciplinary conference so we were able to gain insight on innovations within entrpreneurial studies from a diverse group of academics from each continent. More importantly, it was small enough to get to know everyone, yet large enough to allow us to gather together a gang to paint Laussane red. I think we drank it dry. (One had to have a bit more than usual when one is a mere student within a group of sociologists, organisational behaviourists, finance and economic geeks discussing the difference between theory and model...this is still not resolved)
After Laussane, we had to meet someone in Zurich so we spent a day there before heading back down to Bern. Did Zurich last July so we spent most of our time in the church admiring Chagalls stained glass. I must admit that is my Have to See in Zurich.

So here I am now, looking into heading out to Venice for Easter. We have no idea how to get there, where to stay, or even if Venice has signs of life during the easter break...but I want to go.

Coffee at Wisteria Lane

I have a confession. I am getting hooked on Desperate Housewives. In a few weeks I suspect my addiction will be as bad as my SATC addiction. I am starting to think about which character I want to be...Susan or Bree, just as I agonised over the Carrie or Charlotte issue. Last year I wanted to live in Manhatten, drink Cosmos all night, be artistically savvy and a fag hag. As I am already a fag hag (on various continents too) and drink all the time, I felt my dreams were within reach. Then Miranda moved to suburbia and Carrie finally got Mr Big. In the meantime I felt dazed and confused as had to resort to re-runs of Will & Grace and Gilmore Girls (Now Will is my dream fag to hag!).

But now there are the Wisteria Lanettes to love, hate, and aspire to be when I grow up.

I've been tapped

I am supposed to be doing some rather urgent work. I am however sipping on nasty mud water coffee supplied by the gallon in the faculty room, thinking about Lausanne, where I will be on Thursday. I have therefore decided to meet Lisa's challenge and fill in the following questionairre:

1. favorite main entree:
Big ole juicy steak, med-rare

2. favorite salad:
Thai beef salad

3. favorite soup:
Leek and potato

4. favorite appetizer:
Foie gras

5. favorite dessert:
Chocolate cake

6. favorite fruit:
Mango

7. favorite vegetable:
Spinach

8. favorite sashimi:
Salmon

9. favorite sushi roll:
Raw Tuna roll

10. favorite soda beverage:
Coke

11. favorite non-alcoholic beverage:
Coke

12. favorite alcoholic shot:
B-52 (technically a cocktail but comes in shot glasses)

13. favorite alcoholic drink:
G&T, JD 7-up, Wine, Champagne, Sex on the beach, Long Island Tea, Cosmos, Manhattens..heck, anything at an open bar.

14. favorite cake:
Chocolate fudge

15. favorite pie:
Apple

16. favorite ice cream:
Choc choc chip

17. favorite milkshake:
Snickers milkshake

18. favorite cut of beef:
Sirloin

19. favorite cuisine:
Asian

20. favorite part of chicken: (leg, wing, thigh, breast)
The little hearts/kidneys..

21. favorite fried food:
Fish fried in tumeric (Ikan goreng)

22. favorite cookie:
Ginger snaps

23. favorite indian curry:
Fish head curry

24. favorite gum:
None. Too much effort

25. favorite candy:
Dark chocolate

26. favorite crepe:
Ones with peach and strawberry filling

27. favorite sandwich:
Aussie style Steak sandwich with grilled onions

28. favorite pizza:
Thin crust salami/pastrami/olives...and NO pineapple

29. favorite mexican dish:
Chili con carne..or is that Texan?

30. favorite vietnamese dish:
Beef noodles

31. favorite korean dish:
Any kim chi

32. favorite chinese dish:
Does dim sum in aggregate count?

33. favorite filipino dish:
Micheal...

34. favorite southern food:
Deep fried catfish and grits

35. favorite instant noodles brand:
Maggi

36. favorite juice:
Carrot/apple/celery mix

37. favorite snack food:
Doritos

38. favorite fish:
Garoupa

39. favorite cereal:
Crunchy Nut

40. favorite pho:
Huh?

41. favorite breakfast food:
Coffee

42. favorite french food:
Foie gras

43. favorite mcdonalds food:
It has to be the fries

44. favorite pasta dish:
anything tomato-ey and with penne, or those cute ribbon shaped ones

45. favorite bread:
French loaf

46. favorite tea:
Earl Gray

47. favorite 7-11 slurpies:
Have sworn of them since friends who worked at 7-11 claimed they never cleaned the dispensers...you know who you are girlies.

48. favorite hershey's kiss:
Do not eat American chocolates

49. favorite flavor of m&m's:
Green

50. favorite candy bar:
Ritter dark chocolate with whole hazelnuts

NY-Toronto-Winnipeg

From NY, we flew to Toronto, where D spent a couple of days at meetings, and I went on yet another hop-on-hop-off tour. If I had more time, and was not so busy with work, I would provide more detailed highlights of my visit but alas, that is not the case. In short, highlights include:

1)Walking on the see through floor of the CN Tower




2)Casa Loma



3)Watching stand up comedy at the Second City


From Toronto, we flew to Winnipeg where I would meet the future in laws for the very first time.




I was a bit apprehensive to say the least. The last time I met potential in laws, they didn't speak English, and my German was non-existent, so I just spent 2 weeks smiling and nodding. This time I knew I had at least utter a few fairly intelligent sentences. Did I also mention that it was -30 degrees in Winnipeg?? D, who I must add is a perfect ambassador for Canadian charm and intelligence, is a less than effective ambassador for tourism and he filled me with horror stories of 5 feet high snow banks. (I admit, I couldn't help it. I checked if they all had their fingers and toes. Frostbite not that much of an issue.)

My worries were put to rest within minutes of arriving at the family home. The family, D's dad, his brother and sister in law, his sisters and his aunt were extremely warm, kind and generous with their hospitality during our stay in Winnipeg. They made me feel so very welcome that I felt rather sad when the visit ended.

It was such an event filled visit, so I apologize in advance for my rather random jottings. Mainly it was because we were only going to be in Winnipeg for 4 days, but it just seemed like there was always a family event. D's dad organised a dinner at the Country Club (yup, D is a product of the suburbian dream). That afternoon, as D was getting ready to go for a run with his elder brother, his eldest brother who works in the US walks into the family room. He decided to surprise us and just took a flight out the last minute. So while the 3 brothers went out for a run, I sat and had a nice chat with D's dad who mentioned that it would have been D's mum's birthday that day if she were still alive. He liked the fact that the 3 brothers were together that day. At dinner the main topic of conversation was the cross country skiing we would all be doing the next afternoon. I am sure they must have noticed my reluctance upon mention of the cross country skiing. I must admit that I had taken that rather literally and fully expected to be skiing if not across state lines, then pretty much across city limits...and trust me...Winnipeg is big. The next day, after sending D's eldest brother to the airport in the morning (he flew down just for the dinner...sweet), D took me on a tour of Winnipeg; where he went to elementary school, junior high and high school. The park where they used to hide to have a drink, the rink where they used to train and play hockey, the houses he used to throw snowballs at, etc. Funnily enough, the visit in a way enabled me to understand D's childhood, and why he has his views on what a successful life is, how his own family should live.

After the tour, we went home to get ready for the afternoon. I was rather surprised nobody had suggested packing sandwiches and a flask, and had thought of doing it myself but unfortunately got a bit distracted by the sight of Doug running around the house in Spandex/lycra tights looking for his skis. Again, my worries were put to rest upon arriving at the golf course and I was told by the siblings that we would only be going around the course. Now, my other worry about the skiing was that I am not a good skier. I have had lessons but that was downhill skiing, and from what I have seen on TV, skiing on flat ground seemed to be a bit more streneous. I was able to stay on the skis and move forward though, and they were awfuly nice with their compliments and moral support. Good thing there were others there too as Doug would have been poking be with the sharp end of that ski pole thinggy urging me to go faster the whole circuit.

After the skiing, we had a family BBQ. Now, let me remind you about the -30 degree weather. So how can you have a BBQ you ask?? Well, what you do is you get all bundled up, open the TRIPLE glazed patio door, run out to start the fire then run back in. When you see that the fire is on its way, you run out again to put on the steaks...etc etc. When we first started going out, D told me about this crazy Canadian tradition of BBQing during winter. He proved to me that night that it could be done.


We flew back the next morning. But we will be going back soon. I need to know how they BBQ in the summer...

The Big Apple

I have been back for a few weeks now but have been so swamped with work that I honestly barely have time to breathe, much less post anything.

But this I had to post...


The Gates, Central Park, New York, 1979-2005.

D and I were at the Met when we noticed these Orange flags outside. We initially thought it had something to do with the Netherlands...heh. Such plebs we are..

1 day to go...

I will see D tomorrow. 23.15 US time. I don't even want to think about converting that into actual hours, as my math skills are non-existent. Now I know why they have those maths problems...if you are on plane heading to NY at a gazillion kilometres an hour and NY is heading in your direction at whatever miles per hour, how much time would you have to wash and blow your hair before your boyfriend reaches JFK? All I know and care about at this moment is that I will see D tomorrow.

I spoke to him this morning, to give him my flight details. I will be arriving much earlier, but I think he needs to know which flight I am on. Just in case. Like if a jet engine sucks in an eagle. I am morbid, I know. Told him about my brother's friend. A bit difficult though as I had to explain what a baju kurung and tudung is. I then had to explain why I do not wear these items of clothing. As these things go, we then got on to the topic of polygamy. I have told him that only Malaysian born Muslims can marry more than 1 wife. Converts and especially foreign converts have no such right. It is in fact an offence under the penal code (which is unfortunately only in Malay). Regardless of what any Malaysian man he will meet says. They just want to see more foreigners in jail. Do not listen to them. And yes, maggi mee is staple food in Malaysia.

I don't think I will have a problem, as he recently asked me what the difference is between Islam and Muslim. The man thought they were 2 different religions. I think I shall tell him that all new converts have to have their new name chosen by the wife. I am thinking ... Joaquim.

We will be visiting D's dad next week. It is -26 celcius in his hometown. Wonder if they walk around in snowsuits there...

How to irritate a sister from across the seas...

Call her at 3am KL time to ask her if you could have white rice at her wedding reception. Remind her how opposed you are to having nuts and raisins amongst the rice..oooh, and request that the colour pink not be chosen as the family theme colour. Then tell her you wish you could be there to help out with the arrangements. Then hang up.

Insaf

2 weeks ago, as I was lying spread eagle on the marble living room floor at home trying to cool off, irritating my brother by jokingly asking him, over and over again, "Why is your country so hot??!!" (I add jokingly before some nationalist lambasts me with comments), he told me a story about a friend of his. He is a transvestite. Not my brother. His friend, F. They have been friends for a long time, and my brother, the kindest most giving person you will ever know, provides his strong shoulders for F to cry on after each failed love affair. They lost touch after the last doomed and tragic affair but recently, he received a call from F. F wanted to touch base, and to inform my brother that "I dah insaf" (I have repented) and he has found the path he is meant to take, he has renewed his faith. My brother was happy for him and suggested they meet up for coffee. Nothing stronger in view of his born again status. F turned up at Alexis wearing a baju kurung and a tudung.

Berlin in 6 hours

I was in Berlin yesterday. Missed Karnivale here becuase I needed to get a visa for Canada, pronto. Note to travellers: If you are not carrying a Dutch passport, but need to travel to Canada from NL, you will need to get a visa from Berlin. I tried to courier my application on Saturday, only to be told by nice postmaster that because of the Karnivale, nothing would be leaving the post office until Monday morning. Checked flights: Cost of last minute ticket same as cost of my flight to NY. I had no choice but to take the last train out to Berlin on Sunday, check myself into a hotel and be at the embassy at 9am on Monday. Only to be told that my passport would be ready at 3pm. So there I was, freezing my buns off, trying to figure out how to kill 6 hours. How much coffee would I have to consume?

What do I do? Get on a hop-on-hop-off bus of course. Did Berlin in a few hours. Spent a bit more time at Checkpoint Charlie. Still trying to figure out what that Dome is famous for because I had to interrupt my taped tour to reassure D over the phone that it is OK to eat a steak he had defrosted on Saturday, but stuck back in the freezer.




Berlin is a beautiful city, still retaining its remaining historical buildings. As usual, any remnants of communism is now fully commercialised, but hey, isn't that why we fight for democracy. It does make you think though as the bus brings you along one of the few remaining parts of the wall still standing. A city divided.

At 3pm, I picked up my now even more valuable passport (that sticker cost me Euro 200 in total!) and headed home.

Just as I am getting use to the weather here, I have to figure out how to pack for a weekend in NY and a week in the wilds of Canada. I sometimes wish time would just stand still for me to catch my breath.

NL sure is cold

The ironic thing about maintaining a blog is that when there is so much to write about, there is never any time to write. Since my last lament about KF's absence, she came home the day before I left, I left KL, am back in NL, and have spent the last few days reading massive amounts of snail mail, starting a research project, applying for both a US and Canadian visa in a week, and getting use to the cold and dreary weather again.

The last few days in KL were hectic. Spending days trying to get knick knacks for housemates, colleagues and secretaries (Tip: Be nicer to the secretaries than your bosses). Eating as much as my tummy could possibly handle ("Yes Mama, I know that Laksa Penang, Mee Goreng and Sashimi do not sit well together in one meal, but I only have 2 days!!") and saying my goodbyes to close friends (Thanks ever so much for accommodating me, meeting up with me at a stranger's house and coming over to mine as I packed). Finally, it was time for me to head out, my last supper at KLIA (Can you believe that a teh tarik is RM5.20!!) enjoyed with my Daddy, Ayah, Mama and siblings. As usual, arriving in Schipol in darkness, with 40 kilos of luggage (minus 10 kilo handbag..why can I never travel light??) just highlighted what I left behind.

I was dreading the trip back home. Even on the plane, as I watched movie after movie, visions of dragging my luggage on and off the trains, down and up staircases and escalators as I catch connecting trains, kept me awake. But life holds plenty of surprises. I arrived in time to catch a train with only one connection needed, and that from the same platform. As I arrived at my own station, someone asked me if he could help carry my luggage. Bless him. My housemate offered to make tea as I got ready for my meeting (Did I mention that I had a meeting the morning of my arrival?), and after the meeting, as I dragged myself home and up to my room, my landlady informed me that she had bought me groceries and flowers for my room as she figured I would be too tired to go grocery shopping. I felt so touched, and so blessed by such thoughtfulness.


But just as I am trying to acclimatise myself to my surroundings, I may be off again. I have to be in NY by the 11th of Feb to meet D as our paper will be presented at a University upstate. We will then head out to Canada to see my future Daddy-in-law and head back out a few days later. Have you ever tried to apply for both a US and a Canadian visa within a week?? I am in the process of doing this, and I shall tell you what happens. Fingers crossed. Oooh, may I add that Canada does not have visa services in NL and that I need to apply in Germany? Toes crossed.

I am stressed. But if all goes well, I will be in the big apple, get nookie and see D next Friday. Hmm, maybe I should have placed "see D" second...or first..

KF...baliklaaaahhhhh

Did I mention that the main, main, main reason I am back is to eat, eat, eat. A girl can only take so much milk, steak and potatoes. In Sydney imagined coming home to good ole home cooking. I must admit such visions helped me stop the tears from flowing at the airport. Dreams shattered as I arrived home and was informed by KF, my mum's maid who has been with us for over 15 years, that she would be going back to Thailand for Raya hols. And she would only be back a day before I left. I was absolutely horrified!! What?? I have to eat out every day?!! I do that everywhere else...but not HOME!!! Lets not talk about the dirty laundry....

But I am a survivor! It helps that we have been visiting every hotel in KL to check out the ballrooms and negotiate terms. I told my Mum at lunch at the Mandarin yesterday that I feel like a foreigner on a real holiday in KL, what with the many buffets I have tried and tested (regardless of the fact that we will not be having raw oysters and sashimi for the wedding...heh). When I go on holiday I eat outside the hotel because we all know that hotel food is unauthentic. My mum is pleased that I am happy with maid-less arrangement. My sis is not happy because every time she calls from work post reccy lunch she finds out that as yet we are undecided and we may have to go to another hotel the next day. As it is we can only do one hotel a day as I wake up late, tennis is on and we have to be back home by 3.30pm because the Philippine soap is on then. We spend 10 minutes looking at ballroom and 2 hours eating lunch. As my sis screams over the phone that the wedding is less than 6 months away and how my mum's indecision is unproductive, I rattle on about how nice my chocolate desert is. I am glad that I am going home soon because I am sure my sis is heading for a nervous breakdown. Through no fault of mine of course.

Other than eating, I have been stocking up on clothes. Can't buy anything in NL because the clothes are too long (or I am not tall enough...heh). Buying cheap T-shirts at the Factory Outlet Store. It goes without saying that if one goes shopping in KL, one is easily reminded how KL salespersons, born in the land of smiles, have the worst people skills in the world. At FOS, I asked if they had the GAP tank tops with built in support in a smaller size as they all seemed to be in XXL. The salesboy said NO, you are too late because the smaller sized ones have all been sold. So there I am looking at a huge pile of spaghetti strapped tank tops in XXL (in Euro size mind you) and asked rather nicely if there is such a huge demand for such tank tops by really fat people in KL (not that there is anything wrong with being fat). And this boy just walked off. Can you imagine? It is to me a valid question because you would think that the salesboy and I could have a discussion about the viability of buying tent like tank tops for a market primarily made up of XXXS Euro sizes in the form of anorexic ah mois (sweet chinese chicks), and S-M Euro size for the more berisi (nice malay term for fleshy, or obviously not anorexic) Malay girls. But he walked off. This is why we are not yet a developed country.

I am running out of clean clothes, and we have no idea how to use the washing machine. I think I will have to look for a laundrette. I miss D. He usually does my laundry.

It is only by coincidence that I am back here with the family to celebrate Raya Haji. I came back here primarily to tell my parents in person (post phone call that informed them of the existence of a boyfriend...heh..) about my intention to get hitched to a man they have never met (they are desperate hence blessings) and to tell my Daddy, again in person, that I have a boyfriend/fiancee (I did not have his mobile number hence no phone call). I have his blessings too. I think. I was eating my mango with pulut desert as he gave his rather long lecture on communication...lalalala...duties of wife..lalalala..importance of something or rather...desert finished...You have my blessings. Cool. Can you pass me the cendol?

I also came back to help my sis plan her wedding. Or rather to provide moral support as she desperately tried to convey her wish of a small intimate ceremony. I coached her on standing her ground, showing no weakness, and maintaining a stand. We are in a war, I told her. I failed. She caved in and agreed to a small bersanding. What started out as a 200 persons guest list with casual wear is in danger of escalating to the 700 ball room affair...just because she compromised on that minute issue. I did my best, but I guess my best wasn't good enough (sung to the tune of Just Once). As my Mum rattles on about cousins of friends who she just hassss to invite..I quietly hum "We've only just begun". I spend my days bugging my sis, and my nights scaring my future brother in law with stories or laser circumcisions gone wrong. How with one small technical error, we may be talking quantity, not quality.

KLite again

I have been munching on Goreng Pisang alllll week. Yup, you guessed it, I am back in KL!! I left Sydney with tears in my eyes, took a flight out to Melbourne, then Bangkok, then KL. Went via Thai airways. Not too bad. Again, no personal screens and bad food (I have a thing about day old omelets) but good service. Sawadikaps galore. I must add that Bangkok Airport is fantabulous and I nearly missed my flight what with being preoccupied at the Jim Thompson store at gate 21, while my plane was at gate 56. I am now a firm believer that all airports should have shops all the way to the departure gate. Must start movement.

I arrived late, only to be greeted by my cheerful aunt and equally cheerful Mum (men had Friday prayers). My first thought was...Oh no..I knew I should have taken the train. Don't get me wrong. I love my Mum to bits. And she is not a bad driver...but lets put it this way, my Dad finds it cheaper to hire a driver. I am pretty sure my Mum inspired his new car replacement programme business (like AAM but you get a replacement car when you have an accident). I was greeted by kisses (bless) and onion breath (they claim they wanted coffee but were to embarrassed to only buy that at Burger King (what will the counter boy think??!!) so they each had to order french fries and onion rings). We spent ages looking for the car..we not only ended up on wrong floor, but the wrong car park! I was blamed for leading them to wrong car park. I reminded them that I was not in the car when they parked it. They filled me in on happenings, with conversation only interrupted when other cars start honking us (Mum and loyal aunt will then have a rant about stupid drivers) and as I secure my seat belt in the back seat. We got home 3 hours later (we HAD to stop at FAM for kuey teow because they decided I should have it for lunch). I should have taken the train.

So far I have been spending quality time with Mum which includes watching some Philippine soap opera and catching up on family goss. 3 aunts are not talking to another aunt because she casually mentioned the ending of same soap opera which she found out herself from surfing the net. I have been getting into the swing of life at home, like taking maid to TMC to do shopping...at 9am..sigh. That sort of thing. I have been catching up with friends I have missed terribly. Just hanging out. Things I missed, and will miss after 1 Feb. Thoughts are a bit disjointed at the moment because maid is frying goreng pisang, and I can smell it. Gotta go.

A Mother's pride

Over lunch today, D told me that the bed we have in our room was chosen by his mother when he went off to College. I told him that explains why it is a dinky Double instead of a studly King. He added that actually, he complained about the size at first as he had a rather dinky room and he thought it would be better to get a single bed. As a female, presumably with motherly instincts (well, except for those women who drown their kids in bathtubs and cars), I cannot imagine his Mother's reaction. I would be highly disturbed at such apparent lack of foresight.

I told D that when we have a kid, and he goes to college, we will also help him choose a bed. In fact, when we go shopping we will both pretend to test it out. Boy will that put him in therapy for years.

Starting to see light...

You would think that with the fantastic weather and free vino in abundance (well, you do have to socialise to get access to the stuff but once you down a few carafes its not really an issue) I would be hitting the sand every afternoon. To be honest, I have been in nerd mode lately and in the flat making the final amendments to the first article I worked on with D and finishing up the second article I have been working on with him. We were even working on Christmas eve and through new years day to get this second article done as we have to meet deadlines to submit them for conferences.

For those of you who are not in on the mysteries of academia, let me try to clue you in. First you do anything and everything to get data. You become a data whore (When D first mentioned this term I shouted (in shock and awe of course) "You dated a whore??!!" rather loudly in a fairly nice restaurant..he was not pleased..) and you do almost anything and everything to get data to analyse. For the second article, I promised a few people to name my firstborn after them...so in a few years be prepared to read a posting on David-Bruno-Azam-Joseph-KeeHong-Hanson-etc-Cumming. D will understand as he will probably add on a few Germanic names to fulfil promises made for data obtained for first article.

So you now have data. You then come up with general hypotheses and hope to god that the data fits to prove you right. If they don't, you change hypotheses so that you are still right. Although your data will sufficiently address 10 hypotheses, you only list out less than 5 for an article as academics have short attention spans. As it is if an article is not relevant to their work they will not read it..ever. Even if it wins a nobel prize. If it is slightly relevant, they will read the abstract, the introduction and the conclusion. All of 3 pages of the 40 page document you spent 6 months working on. Only if the work is extremely relevant to an academic's work will they bother to read it back to front, even then only to enable them to shoot you down like the dog you are. Especially when what you find contradicts their work. They shoot you in the back while you are down.

I digress. So you have data. You have hypotheses. You then write up paper. When you do this note that you do not have to know everything. Have you ever read an academic paper and had a look at the extremely long Biblio/References? Let me tell you a secret..the author (ie me) has not read all those papers/books/articles. You read a few, yes, but alot of them are included as you hope that those writers will be your referee. You choose a name, preferably someone you have met before, and look through his list of published/unpublished working papers to see if any fits into your area. You add in the cite as nothing makes an academic happier than having his existence confirmed by a cite.

Let me now explain why a referee is the bane of an academic's life when she is just starting out. You see, as I have finished the paper, I now have what is called a working paper. I can now submit this working paper to journals. The journals are ranked in that you have really really good journals where anyone published there is elevated to status of BSD on campus (Big Swinging D*%k). You are a God. No questions asked. If I get a paper in any A journal I can just shake legs for the rest of my life as other academics have to kowtow to me. Unfortunately, only 0.002% of new submissions get accepted. My chances are even slimmer as 1) to get an article in I will be peer reviewed and 2) the level of cronyism in academia is one that surprisingly has gone unnoticed by the presidency of a country that shall remain unnamed...maybe because it is in their favour 3) as the top level journals are that same country centric so if data are not biased in their favour your work will not be considered worthy of their attention. As a new academic, I am not worthy of their favour. Even if I cite all of their work. Especially if I actually have something novel to say. So if the referees don’t like you (and they won’t), they will send you what is called a rejection letter aka FOAD letter (F*&k Off And Die). If you are very very lucky, and they somehow like you enough to actually read your paper and comment, the review process could take 2 years. Some unlucky ones take up to 7 years. By then they would have either realised that academia is not for them, or they would have just killed themselves. Same difference.

So there you have it. I have spent the last year working on 2 papers that may never see the light of day. But all is not lost. An unpublished paper can be presented at conferences. Because academics have to put up with the review process and bad pay, conferences are chosen based on venue, not reputation or even topic. Did I tell you that where you work (Boston versus Zimbabwe) and what you earn is totally dependant on your publication record in top journals? [Books don’t count because we all know that book authors are divided into 2 categories, those who are published and just staple all their articles together…sort of a Best Of Compilation (the better author) and the sad ones who have to write a book to publish their altogether unrecognised working papers]. A top tier conference on your specific area of research in Moscow is a possibility, but a so-so conference sort of related to your area in Honolulu is a must go. Funnily enough, papers that are accepted by journals are not entitled to be submitted for presentation at conferences. You can’t have your cake and eat it too.

So now you understand why I worked through the holidays? There are conferences in Ghent Belgium, Milan Italy, Seoul Korea and Georgia. Fingers crossed.

Happy new year

Starting a new year with a thumping headache is never good.
Starting a new year with a swim at an aussie beach right outside my flat is good. Especially since I have only done this once in my months here.
Starting a new year surrounded by topless sunbathers (I saw more nipples today that a Malaysian customs officer in charge of tearing pages out of Vogue does in a year). Not good.
Starting a new year with D next to me pretending not to look at exposed boobs, but clearly not drooling. Very good.

.....

Our first tiff in 2005: Me: I will not change my name after we get married! People will think I'm a porno star. D: People don't think I'm a porno star. Me: I did.