What The Hell Am I Doing Here?

Ultima Singapura.

2008-04-30T21:59:00.005+05:30

I am now back in Singapore. Woopee!

After a nice meal at Ka-Soh Restaurant, a hot shower and a good dump, I'm all good for Singapore again.

The next few days will be filled with plenty of errands.

So for now, ad per the post before the last two, I proclaim this blog closed for the season, until the time again I feel the call of the Wanderfuss.

Race you back to my lair.

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Now playing: Madonna - 4 Minutes [Ft. Justin Timberlake and Timbaland]
via FoxyTunes

Pseudo-Gangsta Mumbaikers

2008-04-27T13:55:00.002+05:30

Right now I'm in Wich Latte again, the only place where they've got free Wi-Fi available for people staying around the area. This is in Colaba, the touristy area. We attempted the other day to head out towards the supposed shopping area (Bandra), but it took us a 1 hour 15 minute long taxi ride through crazy traffic jams, insane searing heat and throngs of begging street children. It was expensive as hell as well (for Indian prices), and the guy wanted Rs. 200 more just for waiting 30 minutes then returning back to Colaba.

We walked down a bit and then realised it was CG Road (Ahmedabad) all over again, cars whizzing past barely-there walkways, leering men (I swear India's entire socio-economic issues can be boiled down to one thing: unequal sex ratio) and lousy shops. All the guides seem to point to this area as being the place to eat and shop, so I guess it's only if you go there with an A/C cab and have a ready guide to show you aroud, otherwise, plan first before you get here.

So we returned to Colaba, and have been nuahing around the area for the past 2 days. We've gone to virtually every restaurant/cafe listed in the LP guide for this area, and are a little hard-pressed now for things to see and do.

Apparently Marine Drive is just one stretch of walkway for people to admire the view of the city coastline. I think there should be some restaurants and shops in the area, but it seems like too wide an area for speculation.

But Colaba seems to have the best cafes and bakeries and stuff. So anyway, right now we're in this cafe, and I'm seated opposite Leigh who's using her laptop. Behind her there are five guys, all English-speaking late 20-somethings, and they're decked in a mish-mash of clothing, one has a khaki-coloured flat-top cap matched with a navy blue t-shirt and he's seated with his feet on the leather seats. There's one really talkative alpha-male sort who's got stringy long hair, and he's the most domineering one of the lot, constantly trying to impress the rest with his general knowledge.

So the funniest thing about this lot is that when BEP's Where Is the Love? came on over the speakers in this cafe, the lot of them began singing along to the chorus and talking about it as if it's the hippest song in their universe (probably). That song is a million years old, and it's not even entertaining anymore. But they were loving it like it just happened yesterday (for them probably). Then T.A.T.U.'s one-hit came on and Talkative Pseudo-Gangsta began to relate to his friends about the song and it's music video, like he was so cool for having seen it at all.

I have maintained that coming to India is like travelling 30 years into the past. This is true, although, their music is a little more advanced. One thing I've noticed is that in all their pseudo-international restaurants and cafes, their idea of English music is techno-beat infused songs. Or just plain techno. This is the strangest deduction anyone could have come to. Like all the places in Ahmedabad that want to pretend to cater to the up-market yuppie sorts play the exact same CD. It begins with a bit of old-school techno, Final Countdown or something like that, then moves on to some Shakira, then if it's kinda different, it might have a slow Bryan Adams' song. Only because Bryan Adams is still big in India (it's the Time-Lag).

Theory: If "India Standard Time" or IST as it is commonly known as, means that one IST minute is equivalent to 15 global minutes, imagine the sheer accumulation of all these 15 minute blocks. The implications are astounding. Which is why when we leave this place, we'll probably experience some disorientation due to the forward time-jumping.

And oh, if anyone of you are thinking about how much I seem to be bashing this place, it's not that I'm not enjoying myself, it's just that the whole need to be politically correct and praise things is just not in my nature. I'll take the good stuff, and I'll be aware of them and be happy with them, but going on and on about nice and good things isn't what I want to do today.

Another note is for people who like to claim that "Singapore is a country with no soul": You can take whatever city soul you want to claim other places have and go live there. I will not trade the sterile environment of Singapore, I will not trade the corporate bookstores and the nice cafes, I will not give all of it up, just so I can say, my city has a soul, it is in the quaint bookstores, the family-run rustic cafes, the street vendors and colonial architecture, but all these have to exist side-by-side with dusty streets, bad public transport, a sexually-repressed generation of men, and the entire milieu of problems facing the people of that country.

Give me a first-world city filled with shallow people trying to eke out meaningless ambitions from their eugenically-directed education, give me convenience and security. And I'm not being sarcastic. If you're stupid enough to think that.

Report From Mumbai/Bombay

2008-04-25T14:27:00.003+05:30

This is our second day here. We've done some shopping and will probably be doing more over the next few days.

We're checked into the Bentley's Hotel. It's a budget hotel that's really colonial looking. The interior of the room is somewhat like a scene out of In the Mood For Love, dressing table complete with three mirrors and other dark wood furnishing. Pretty cool writing table as well, except that it's kinda spoilt. It's one of those letter tables that has a fold-out writing space, the ones you see in colonial period dramas (where they write the letters and all).

We had a late, late lunch at Cafe Churchill, which is two minutes outside our hotel. We're in the main touristy area of Colaba. There are boutiques lining one end of the street, on the other end there are the same stalls selling fake sunglasses and curios. Plenty of people jostling for walkspace, and nice bookstalls.

We might be headed to Marine Drive later on. Right now we're in Wich Latte which is a very strange sandwich bar place.

Leigh just scolded me and told me to eat my sandwich so she can move her laptop. Right, this means the report's over.

Afternoon Photoshop Practice

2008-04-22T16:14:00.003+05:30

Did this earlier for Gavin's camp thingy. He hasn't gotten back to me. The female officers said that an earlier design wasn't cute enough. I thought that boys being boys they might like something more edgy. But the girls in charge of the camp didn't pass it. So this is the Kawaii Knight, complete with pseudo-Japanese Engrish back story.
Cause I've been catching season 4 of Battlestar, and I was bored this afternoon. There are Hybrid Cylon babies all ove the place now, shouldn't they have a Protector. Yes, I've also been catching Terminator, so as you can see the influence of two TV serials based on a future man-machine war.

Tonight we have dinner with the Director of the school. Small talk, ah, such a lovely function of social functions.

Two more days here.

Feedback Loop

2008-04-19T21:12:00.003+05:30

Here are two more pages I've done for the guide I spoke of earlier. The only reason why I've been able to do that is cause I've got some time to myself now that classes have more or less ended. I just noticed that the second auto doesn't seem to have handles.

My Blueberry Nights

2008-04-19T17:29:00.003+05:30

Leigh and I have kept ourselves entertained for 2 days now with plenty of shows. We go for Prof. Mathew's class and watch hours of films, mostly world cinema, then have philosophy, sociology and ethics trussed upon our heads, fighting back all the inane questions that get asked with little or not thought actually put into them before they're fired to the prof.

Then we head back to Silveroak, then begin again with Friends, and more movies.

Last night was 27 Dresses, which Leigh found terribly disappointing cause she's been looking forward to it so much, and it was more like a typical romance story minus a lot of the romance that's supposed to make one feel all nice and warm and fuzzy inside (I think that's for her). I didn't expect anything from it, so it passed me by like all the rest.

Same formula, girl has some quirky thing about her (from Disneyland, is a Man-With-Mom-Shifter, etc.) and then has a huge crush on someone who doesn't love her, and the best friend that's always been there becomes the one in the end.

And this afternoon we watched My Blueberry Nights, which I have to say I expected to suck based on the reviews it's garnered so far and the supposed final edit by Weinstein. But it was good. It was great. It was tasty.

And it was lovely.

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Now playing: Brandi Carlile - The Story
via FoxyTunes

The End of An Era

2008-04-17T22:18:00.002+05:30

So Nuria's got about 42 minutes left before her flight leaves for Singapore. She should be at the Ahmedabad airport right now, or maybe she's already boarded the plane back.

The Singapore Airlines flight back. We didn't go through the usual motions of saying goodbye, just a cake party held for her by the nice CCC people yesterday night and that was that. Leigh and I said our goodbyes to her during snacks today, and then we headed off for class.

So now all that's left is a pair of slippers she left outside her door for disposal and a mess of a room now vacant.

It's "the end of an era" as Monica so aptly put to Rachel in Friends.

This afternoon we had to do our presentations to the Director and Harleen. All I can say here is that I think it went down alright. Not as vitriolic as the French I suppose, but we got our message through I hope.

Then it was lunch and Prof. Mathew's class for the rest of the day. I will never see film studies in the same light ever again. And the films he shows us in this module is, how can I put it, eye-opening is a little mild, but you get my drift. But it's a fantastic class.

So...

Goodbye MICA Nuria, I'll see you around in Singapore. Thanks for the times, dear Kitchen Towel, Pantless Friend Who Befriends the Weirdos. I shall miss all the times we've had instant noodles in the corridor (all of once).

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Now playing: Jem - Missing You
via FoxyTunes

p.s. the song is a coincidence, please don't read too much into it, thanks.

Concept Art for Cover of Guide

2008-04-16T02:42:00.002+05:30

Cause we're supposed to make a presentation to the director of the MICA tomorrow, in which we'll have a throwdown of sorts regarding various issues, I decided that I shall attempt to help future students who might be coming to MICA by making a guide, whether I actually go through with this or if it's one of my many undeveloped ideas lying around the computer, I don't know at this point, but I think I've got a few chapters to discuss already.

Preview:
Chapter 1 - Reasons Why You Might Have Chosen MICA
Chapter 2 - Reasons You Never Knew To Have Chosen MICA

PRE-DEPARTURE
Chapter 3 - Pre-Departure: Activities For Self
Chapter 4 - Pre-Departure: Activities With Friends
Chapter 5 - Pre-Departure Purchases
Chapter 6 - Pre-Departure Foods To Consume
Chapter 7 - Pre-Departure Things To Settle (Visa, Internet Banking, Contact numbers, travel mates, ticketing, etc.)

PACKING
Chapter 8 - Things To Bring (And Infernal Deadweight Not To)
Chapter 9 - Food To Bring

BOARDING
Chapter 10 - Airport Sendoffs
Chapter 11 - Getting Free Upgrades To Business Class (concept)

Chapter 12 - Time-travelling Back 30 Years (Or Entry Into India and Sighting the AMD Airport For the First Time)
Chapter 13 - First Impressions Count (Or Students Who Volunteer To Collect the Exchange Students May Be Nice...)
Chapter 14 - The Road Is Long (and Dark)
Chapter 15 - The Shower Requires Some Fiddling With
Chapter 16 - Maps of Ahmedabad, of MICA, of India (So As To Better Plan Escape Routes)
Chapter 17 - Mess Food Timings, MICAfe Timings
Chapter 18 - Food Improvisation (How To Order In MICA, And How To Make Butter Sugar Toast)
Chapter 19 - Functions of Administration Staff
Chapter 20 - Meeting the "International Department" For the First Time (Or What You Need To Know Beforehand)
Chapter 21 - Meeting MICA Students (or How Singaporeans Should Behave Overseas)
Chapter 22 - Meeting Students From Other Countries (or How to Recognise French Swear Words)
Chapter 23 - Campus Activities
Chapter 24 - Admin Stuff To Get Over, SIM Cards, etc. (And How To Lend Your Things And Get It Back On Time)
Chapter 25 - Getting Out of MICA (Getting around in Ahmedabad, And BEYOND!)

SHOPPING
Chapter 25.5 - Bargaining in India (by Leigh Khoo and Romain des Courieres)
Chapter 26 - Shopping @ Reliance
Chapter 27 - Shopping @ Iscon
Chapter 28 - Shopping @ Landmark
Chapter 29 - Shopping @ CG Road
Chapter 30 - Shopping Elsewhere

EATING OUT
Chapter 31 - Non-vegetarian Places to Eat Real Food

Chapter 32 - Getting Back to MICA (because you just have to sometimes)

I'm going to sleep, this is just a draft.

Facebook Addiction

2008-04-15T13:00:00.003+05:30

I think I'm addicted to Facebook.

How I know this is relevant, which is the only reason why I'm going to continue talking about it. I've not been able to view Facebook in all its proper blue and white glory for two days now. And it's bugging the hell out of me to see that static HTML page. It's blue and white as well, but for completely different reasons.

So I trawl the net to find out what the hell is going on, and no one seems to have an idea. This campus is officially Facebook-dead.

And I keep searching for some kind of loophole, using Safari instead of Firefox, clearing my caches, trying to find a temporary Internet files folder on a Mac (which they don't have in that name, I think), and looking for all other methods for the sake of avoiding that HTML page.

And then when all fails, I blog about it.

This is how I know I'm addicted to Facebook. And this is bad.

(But seriously, I'm really kidding, read this entire thing with like a smirk and loads of pinches of salt).

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Now playing: Goldfrapp - Monster Love
via FoxyTunes

Homecoming & Hiatus

2008-04-11T23:55:00.003+05:30

So we're going to leave MICA. On the 24th we leave here for Mumbai, and then we'll be back on Singaporean soil on the 30th.

And then that would be the end of, dare I say it, 126 wonderful days in India. And no, for all of you who still can't grasp the notion of when I'm joking, being sarcastic or just musing, I have actually enjoyed my time here. And will do so again in the far future.

But for now, it's time to begin the drowsy end of a long work day, close the register, stack the chairs, clean the place up, and savour the moments as night gives way to day. Then turn the closing sign to show, leave the shop and close the door with a heavy heart.

Another day ends, with people met, a few regrets and tired feet. Step into the cold, breathe the chilled air, bask in the orange glow of the city and wait for the demons to drag you back to your reality.

You have been the best companion all this time, but sadly dear blog as I leave India I will have to leave you for a time, till next I find myself wandefussing across the globe, thinking to myself that perennial question:

What the hell am I doing here?

I bid you adieu, for now, for tonight, for today.

Because I still have 18 more days here in India. 12 more in MICA, 4 more till I have to make a presentation to the Director of the school regarding my experience here, and 1 more till we head to Pride Hotel for breakfast.

Goodnight, goodnight.

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Now playing: Fort Minor - Where'd You Go (feat. Holly Brook and Jonah Matranga)
via FoxyTunes

News Reports Coming In

2008-04-10T20:02:00.002+05:30

From various fronts that war is inevitable in the substate of Ntuwkwsci, as several factions sprung from the recent power vacuum left by the Mainstream Party gear up for battle. They have already begun territorial skirmishes in most modular regions of the school. The Mainstream Party had left on a diplomatic mission to other parts of the world, and more prominent members were included on this journey.

Factions from the Peripherals and the Invisibles have taken the chance to overthrow the former government, and those remaining Mainstream have been unable to cope with the coup d'etat. The initial fallout was not widely known, but as the new financial semester draws to a close, fresh skirmishes have broken out. Hundreds have been hurt in the latest attack, involving Peripherals, Invisibles and Mainstream.

Those Mainstreams who were not slated to join the foreign mission have taken shelter away from the city center, seeking instead to hole up in their houses and await for better news. Some Mainstreams have taken up arms to stem the tide of Peripherals and Invisibles. So far this has proven futile as the Ps & Is have begun a hostile takeover of the Power Structure. Several of them have almost obtained enough power to move into the inner circles of the former Mainstream.

Witnesses also report that the political powerplay in the substate has mainly been orchestrated by a single person, but no real news has emerged to prove the existence of such a King (or Queen?) Bee. Some witnesses also report that overseas Mainstream personalities have attempted to interfere in the new local political scene.

We request that you pray for a swift return of Order. Goodnight, and good luck.

The Other Day In Class

2008-04-10T15:03:00.000+05:30

GO AND COMMENT TO SUPPORT THEM! THANKS!

2008-04-09T23:58:00.001+05:30

This was done by Shixiong, Fiona, Ting Yi, Jun Jie, Vivienne, Jal and Phoebe. I might have forgotten to mention Phoebe in one of these many posts.

Second Party

2008-04-09T05:22:00.002+05:30

Leave Everyone Else Be.

2008-04-07T17:07:00.005+05:30

CLASS ACTIVITY

The teacher wants us to write a limerick
And I tried writing something really sick
But the theme in question is education in MICA
Which in India can supposedly get one really far
But seriously I much rather be in Singapore lah.

FIRST LINE INSPIRATION FROM THE TEACH

I feel like a schoolbus driver
But honestly I'm just a skiver
I come late to class
Then keep making a fuss
When people aren't so fast.

HELPING ANOTHER CLASSMATE WITH HIS LAST LINE

There were 8 men in MICA
Who used to live in champar
they used to have fun at night
but coming to class was always a fight
especially if they had had drinks in a bar.

ON A PERSON IN CLASS

Nuria likes butter toast and tea for snacks
Because they give her little joyful whacks
I know that after her daily dose of toast
She likes to avoid the afternoon sun's roast
Rushing back to sleep in her sack.

ON THE VIRGIN GROUP

There once was a very large Virgin
That had tentacles in everythin'
It fed off rich Branson celebrity bread
Had Victoria's Secrets on a flying bed
And gave everyone cause to sin.

Himanshu's Birthday @ Champar

2008-04-06T17:08:00.009+05:30

It begins with a dark (because it's nighttime) and stormy (okay, more like rainy) night.

A dark corridor along which empty hostels line, that cursed of the dark powers - frogs, roam with impunity all over the campus.

And then you get this. This is what a camera with a flash catches. Everyone is actually sitting in the dark. Plastic cups adorn each palm, a offering to lips of lukewarm mixers laced with spirits.

Summon the birthday boy, and there he is. Preceded by his entourage of Hairband Boy and The Philosopher (no, we don't really call him Hairband Boy, but yes, we really do call him The Philosopher).

Angeleigh Khoo unable to say no to a drink. Here she attempts to smile at the camera and make me take the drink off her hands.

She realises this is futile and pulls Bat-face on me. This unfortunately for her does not work as well. She's stuck with the drink that was thrust upon her. It's only Sprite and Smirnoff. Sproff. Haha, I'm so funny. Oh damn it.

This is the Horse. The Horse is so called because that's what one could term his animus. The Horse is from Ahmedabad which is a dry state and this would explain a lot about the rest of the night. And also explain the constant handshaking, and the shirt-disappearances.

Not to mention self-loathing and falling down.

Our favourite barkeep (who provided the alcohol but stayed away from it the entire night). This is where we let it all hang loose after a long arduous day of hard work in CCC class. Yes, we head to our favourite pub, affectionately known as The Champar-Makeshift-Hostel-Room-Pub.

I brought nuts to complete the atmosphere. What's a makeshift pub without nuts eh?

Artsy photography to reflect what most of the drunks were seeing last night. If you must know though, that is Mehul. I don't really have a nickname for him, one could call him curly by the mountain of curly, floppy hair that he's got. Speaking about floppy hair, Yaqin, you'll love his hair.

Birthday Boy, his girlfriend, RCM girls, The Silence.

The Silence: He is busy playing Need For Speed here, but later on in the night he'll be completely intoxicated and entertaining Leigh by merely completing entire sentences. On a daily basis he's really really quiet, but add alcohol and cigarettes, well, it becomes a very good night.

The night progresses. The lineup changes as people move around to get drinks, Kah Shin constantly shrieks next to me and people begin handshaking.

This photo should demonstrate a lot. The Horse was literally having a spinning head, and Robin (next to him on the right) who didn't have a drop was completely sober and entertaining him.

Shadowy people. This was earlier in the night when Nuria was around. Deepak the Giant is next to her.

This is when Ritu came with Kah Shin. Or followed, or whatever.

A very blur picture of Sumona (?), one of the RCM ladies.

This is at Chhota, that is Simon the Cat. No, that is not an affectionate term, as you can see, he's really a cat. And no, I don't have any idea why he's called Simon, I call him Limpy, cause he's got a major limp from an angry bleeding injury he had months ago.

This is Nuria. That is all.

Frak! Is That A Battlestar (Recap)?

2008-04-05T15:36:00.007+05:30

For all of you who've heard me make mention of Battlestar Galactica and how much of a fantastic series it is, here's a quick recap that's full of gems like:

"Cause Starbuck is badass, so she escapes."
"There's a bun in the toaster."

It's hilarious, watch even if you don't understand. After that you're free to watch the final season.

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On another note, Jack and Jill vs The World is marketing itself to be a lovestory for cynics, but it's got a killer soundtrack for the trailer and I can't help but hope that beyond the not-so-slick film style and the overly-trying dialogue, there's something worth me watching it.

Besides the soundtrack which has both Deathcab AND Stars. And Stars.

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Another update @ 4.57 pm here.

I think I'll return to Singapore and will convert this into a Food Blog. Considering the catching up I'll need to do with my favourite foods, this will most likely be a reality.

Finally Managed To

2008-04-05T00:05:00.004+05:30

Get my hands on Missy Higgins' On A Clear Night, and Where I Stood is now the on-loop track of the week, occasionally accompanied by Peachy and Going North. Ah, auditory bliss.

"Where I Stood" by Missy Higgins

I don't know what I've done
Or if I like what I've begun
But something told me to run
And honey you know me it's all or none

There were sounds in my head
LIttle voices whispering
That I should go and this should end
Oh and I found myself listening

'Cos I dont know who I am, who I am without you
All I know is that I should
And I don't know if I could stand another hand upon you
All I know is that I should
'Cos she will love you more than I could
She who dares to stand where I stood

See I thought love was black and white
That it was wrong or it was right
But you ain't leaving without a fight
And I think I am just as torn inside

'Cos I dont know who I am, who I am without you
All I know is that I should
And I don't know if I could stand another hand upon you
All I know is that I should
'Cos she will love you more than I could
She who dares to stand where I stood

And I won't be far from where you are if ever you should call
You meant more to me than anyone I ever loved at all
But you taught me how to trust myself and so I say to you
This is what I have to do

YOU-WERE-WRONG-ABOUT-WATER, Mom & Dad.

2008-04-04T22:59:00.002+05:30

So says this link from Boing Boing.

Hope Represented In Imagery

2008-04-03T15:06:00.003+05:30

I was a little confused with what the assignment really entailed, so just before class I wrote another and this is the other one.

What I Really Think About Hope

It is the wishing that she would never stop dancing before your eyes the memory of her fleeting like a candleflame flickering in the wind, ever to tenuous its hold on reality, darkness beckons and the warmth of her is gone to be replaced by hard grey dreams of mourning. Yet in the morning you awake to sunlight burning your skin, a reminder that the cold wintry nights were a welcome numbing bliss, to the inevitable "hope springing eternal in the human breast", like a gushing fire hydrant from a slick 80s dance film, drenching you in unwanted desire to live through another day of eternity, waiting once again for that tiny chance to watch her spinning and twirling round and round, in a made-up memory of innocent love and beauty.

Dear Singapore

2008-04-02T17:59:00.000+05:30

Thank you for Literature classes.

Songs & Poetry Class

2008-04-02T16:24:00.002+05:30

We're supposed to write a script based on a line from Pink Floyd's song, and this is what I came up with. If you ever need an existential play, don't hesitate to use this one.

The Fish's Lot

It's a big transparent fishbowl, the kind you find in films, one transluscent fish with the face of a man swims aimlessly with soulless eyes.
There is a plop sound out of screen. He does not register at first, then his eyes narrow and he turns suspiciously, he does not want to believe that something might have changed.
POV shot, we see another ectoplasmic fish, with a female face equally bewildered.

Fish 1 swims furiously to greet Fish 2, but does not dare to approach too closely.

Fish 1: Are you real?

Fish 2: I think so. Are YOU real?

Fish 1: I was here before you, so I guess so. Where'd you come from?

Fish 2: I don't know. I'd been swimming as usual in a similar looking bowl to this one, but there was a strange whoosh and I couldn't breathe for awhile and then I was here.

Fish 1: What happened?

Fish 2: I don't know. I don't know if I want to know.

Fish 1: What were you before this?

Fish 2: Oh yes. There was a before this wasn't there? It's been so very long, and I've been stuck in this whiteness for awhile now. I think I was like you...

Fish 1: Human? Like with limbs and all that? With cities, and trees and music and leaves and not this infernal absolute whiteness?

Fish 2: And fishbowl, don't forget the fishbowl. Yeah, I think I was like you. Ah. This reminds me of a song I once heard, Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here. The exact line describes this ever so nicely...

Fish 1: What was it?

Fish 2: Don't interrupt me, I'm thinking.. It was "We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,"

Fish 1: Oh my god, is that what's happening here, the bastard.

Fish 2: I don't know about that, but it'd been so lonely I wished for some company.

Fish 1 is distracted.

Fish 1: Oh sorry, did you say something, I was thinking. Do you think we're real? Cause this could be some sick joke created by some kid in a songs and poetry class writing about that song?

Fish 2: That's would suck.

Everyone's Flown The Coop.

2008-04-02T01:11:00.004+05:30

Ditto to Nuria's post.

On another note, we just returned from having dinner with our now-favourite WKWSCI dean Dr. Ang Peng Hwa. And I must say, the dude knows how to work a dinner crowd.

We met him at Pride Hotel, and were then whisked away (in a CAR) to a revolving restaurant, whereupon the discovery was made that it wasn't a non-veg restuarant, and that Dr. Ang was experiencing some health trouble with vegetarian food. So we left the nice expensive looking place, and headed for the Le Meridien hotel across the river.

And we enjoyed the food, and he was an excellent host and company. Because he's totally Singaporean. I shall explain more when I can, this blog might be misconstrued in its meaning and I'm not going to risk my compliment coming out all wrong.

Back in school, we realised just how quiet the campus has gotten. Everyone's left the place, and my lovely Pretty Girl has gone as well, leaving me feeling kinda silly for not getting off my lazy ass and actually done something. But nonetheless.

Harshal left earlier today, and it was a tearless goodbye (for Nuria), but it was sad all the same. We actually set our alarms to wake up earlier to see him off at his stipulated time of 1000, but instead he came over only at about 1215. And we spoke a little before he had to leave. Passed him a copy of Go To Goa, as well as Nuria's shots from the convocation, and that was that. Another presence gone from this place, another empty hole in what we've come to call home.

I've not ever been one to dwell too much on leaving friends and acquaintances, but it is a little unnerving to know that the faces and sounds that have made this place so familiar to us will no longer be the same.

And the saddest thing of all is that as I look to the future, I know for a fact that relationships change constantly and there won't ever be a time like the time we've all spent here.

Convocation Curios

2008-04-01T16:14:00.000+05:30

Tonight, Not Again.

2008-03-31T22:42:00.004+05:30

Only because I was too lazy and anyway nothing's to be made of it. But nonetheless, still kinda bummed. And elated, at the same time.

If this doesn't make any sense to you don't worry, it shouldn't. If it does, then you know tonight's the night.

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The PGP-2 students had their convocation today and have all graduated. From tomorrow onwards, most of them would be off to other states, to begin work or visit home.

So their convocation was earlier, then we had a very nice and elaborate dinner party set-up. The only problem: It was all vegetarian.

Incidentally, Prof. Ang Peng Hwa was here in person and we ate dinner together. He's one of the head honchos of this school so he came for the graduation. And he sat with us and made conversation and we had a nice time with other friends coming along and all. No need to walk around and all that. Just sit, eat, laugh and talk.

Nice evenings. Splendid times.

We have dinner with him tomorrow. I am a little hesitant because there are some unresolved issues that linger over our heads and need to be discussed tomorrow. Wish me luck.

As I Was Saying

2008-03-30T18:25:00.003+05:30

I was waiting in my room for the technician to return with a laptop to test the connection, but 30 mins (or so) later I still see no sign and have deduced only that which one would be able to after staying in India. That his promise is null and that he's going to be doing something else.

So I go look for the technician and he's in the computer room and I find him in a state of utter cellphone bliss, multi-tasking on the computer with some flash game.

I knock the glass door and give him a look, the one meant to convey "I-Knew-This-Would-Happen" as succinctly to his addled brain. He sees me, does a double
take and begins that arduous process of Pretend Work.

Pretend Work is a concept in which a skiving employee adopts the dramatic persona of Man Hard At Work. It's a game we play here, someone pretends to be doing work, and you pretend like you don't know they're not actually doing any real work. They haven't been doing any work. Had they been doing anything constructive whatsoever, if they were that connected and resourceful, we wouldn't even need to watch them play Pretend Work, the meeting won't even happen. It's a fun game, one that we often engage in, and we're the catchers.

After that he continues this act and decides to bring me to his manager, whom he makes his assessment to, albeit 40 minutes after promising to return with a laptop, but a good pretend workflow nonetheless, and they converse while Nuria and I stand outside.

I get bored with the shit and then we go for lunch. We return later and the manager says that a technician will be over at 3 pm. It was about 1.25 pm.

I wait patiently in my room, returning for lunch just before 3 to be able to catch the tech as he arrives. I was hoping that they'd call someone from outside to come and fix the situation, but at 3.25 pm I was sorely disappointed. It was the same guy.

He had an IBM ThinkPad with him. He plugs his DSL cable into my room port and begins testing. He sits there trying for a few minutes, decides to try the other port in the room, then goes to Leigh's room to do the same thing. I've already explained to him the entire situation, that the LAN and the wireless were both down, and that there's something wrong with the ENTIRE Silveroak system. I couldn't wrap my head around the amount of trouble it took me to convey to him that simple fact. He spends about 40 minutes doing his testing thing and tells me exactly the same thing.

"The entire network is down."

Really? Oh my gosh, I really wanted it to be just screwing up in my room, you know I love a good dose of Internet deficiency.

"When can you get it fixed by?"
"Eh, today? Today is Sunday, only me, I'm alone."
"Are you sure today it'll be fixed?"
"Maybe tomorrow, tomorrow the others will be here, we come and fix."

This essentially means that we'll be Internet-less for about a week.

-------------------------------

Some things one should note in order to fully enjoy reading this blog (for those of you not obsessively reading my blog thinking that hey maybe Erwin is making fun of me and I should be so totally devasted if he isn't and shall endeavour to spite him to get his attention):

(1) I am actually enjoying myself here.

I know this one is rather tough, I mean come on, you're griping all the time about this and that and India this and lecturers that, and you're -you- are actually saying you're enjoying it?

The simple answer is yes. Yes, I am enjoying myself here, the quiet time, the sheer invincibility of being an exchange student (whole dimension here in itself), the walks, the constant reevaluation of who you are, what defines you, all that. I'm enjoying my experiences, the way I've enjoyed all the things I've done thus far in my life. Not a moment I (really) regret. The travelling, and the constant self-discovery, these are two things I enjoy most here.

(2) I am actually learning a lot here.

Maybe not in terms of actual academia, but in terms of learning more about myself, about the people around me, about human relationships, about my resistance to air-conditioning or heat, about computers, about India (of course), about the people, etc.

And of course I have learnt to believe some of the things my dad believes about India. He works here you see, and in his emails he sometimes says things that might come across to us as unbelievable, but seriously, seriously, some things are pretty messed up.

But I'm learning alot, as I've said.

(3) I write only to gripe. That's mostly why I write. If all I've got to contribute is fluffy little anecdotes about how sweet a place the world is, how amazing this is and how wonderful that place is, you wouldn't be reading my words. Because secretly you know that I'm only griping to get rid of the experience, to put it into words so I don't have to keep it to myself. But I like my experiences, and I'm actually a happy person (if you can just give me a little trust on this that'll be great), beneath the scowling expression and declarations of contempt for that idiotic attention-deficient-give-me-the-love-I-never-had-seeking people, I really am enjoying myself.

But of course, if you're going to fight me on my own words, and claim that I'm as thick-headed and pathetic as the likes of you, well, then obviously you're not a friend and are merely seeking the thrill of being Detested by Me. Which is fine by me either way, because you'll just dream up said disgust and imagine it being projected from me, when in essence I don't even give two fucks (maybe half) about you. Because it's all about me. Really. Who else am I supposed to be thinking, I'm not telepathic nor empathetic (to idiots), just stuck in this one body here.

But enough of that, just a little bored here in the school library. Nuria is reading magazines far to my right, and just behind her Leigh is charging her laptop and chatting with people on MSN. I'm listening to my iTunes, rocking my new cheap (and fading after one wash) Che t-shirt, and wondering why there are flies in here.

Don't know when I'll be able to blog again, so in that time, do whatever it is you do, blog-surfing person who probably didn't read half the things I've just written.

Just a sidenote: The people are graduating tomorrow and the other younger batch has already flown the coup and are going for their internships. We'll be here doing CCC modules with 11 other students. So many fun days ahead.

For those who I can't wait to see back home in Singapore, I'll be returning hopefully on the 15th or 16th of June. If it's not too much trouble, could there be a waiting crowd with banners proclaiming "WELCOME HOME TEAM BUNCH OF CYNICAL BASTARDS (SG)!" That would rock our world.

Later.

INTERNET IS DOWN.

2008-03-30T14:51:00.002+05:30

Blogging from the cafe, where the rest of the school's Internet is working. Only Silveroak is down. Sought help from technicians who didn't know what to do, then sought to insult my intelligence by telling me... ah crap. Got to go.

New Blog Thingy (That Will Last All of a Few Days)

2008-03-29T00:51:00.002+05:30

1. Scooters

2. Friends

Moleskine Friday: Art & Goa

2008-03-28T19:45:00.006+05:30

The Goa Section

Kissed Fingers, a poem written on one of the beaches.

The earlier mentioned sketch of Nuria and Kash. The Kash one isn't so accurate. I like the Nuria one.

Kah Shin

Nuria

This is a sketch of the new couple's hands. One was attempting to massage the other's.

This is the note I wrote on the side of it.

The page on the other side reads: A page dedicated to Loneliness, thank you.

This is the "Let It Be" by The Beatles page. It was made by Nuria, as the song was the theme for most of our evenings there. And other moments of humour we had on the new couple's expense.

This is an instruction page on how to kill oneself after witnessing disgustingly sweet public displays of affection.

This is Nuria's humour.

This is my Warped Face Nuria drawn on one of the beaches when we were bored waiting for Kash to return from wandering around and Berleigh to come in back from the sea.

If you can't tell, it's coconut water, lime soda and pencil case (left to right).

We did a lot of sketching in Goa, see Nuria's blog.

Another One Bites the Dust

2008-03-27T03:36:00.002+05:30

Nuria and I just returned to our rooms after seeing Bertie off just outside Silveroak.

Leigh went with him and the MICA driver to the International airport. She'll be back around 0500 hours. Nuria and I spoke to Mario for a bit after seeing Bertie off, then we went on talking outside my room.

Another friend has left the coop. Soon, all the students will convocate and leave the school and we'll be all that's left on campus (besides the RCM and CCC students).

Tomorrow is another day of "Copywriting". Class is a farce, and in the emails our liaison seems to be accusing us of skipping class. This is, as Cartman would say, bullcrap.

But that's not the topic at hand. The topic is the leaving of another friend. Oh, by the way Romain, if you're reading this, I'm damn lazy to write emails, so I'll just say that you're missed here in India, and that yes, I've gotten your emails. Although Leigh seems to have be left out. I've added you on MSN, but I don't go there too often these days.

Well then, recommended listing for farewells
1. My Sundown by Jimmy Eat World
2. Make This Go On Forever by Snow Patrol

Ah I feel so sad for Leigh.

Gone to Goa And Back.

2008-03-24T20:30:00.007+05:30

Good Evening Boys and Girls,

It's your favourite Goscip Guy here to bring you the latest dirt on the latest happenings here in the city of Ahmedabad, where everything sleeps because everyone's bored out of their minds. And what news I have for you goscip fans. The latest in downtown MICAn couture fused with the headiness of the excitement of having gone to Goa! What am I going on about? Read on dear readers, read on and weep, because the Loveliest Thing went on The Holiday and has now been snapped up! Who's the lucky guy? Well, that's a secret I'm about to tell...

This is one of the beaches of Goa, India.

This is Bertrand (Bertie).

This is Leigh.

This is a red suitcase of Leigh's luggage. Those are happy people in the background. Like H-A-P-P-Y.

Oh lookee here! It's actually Leigh Khoo, I didn't know we were staying in the same hotel here in Goa!

Wow, this is a nice hotel eh?

Check out the Strawberry Fields Forever motif on their beds.

Nuria and I are thrilled. Yes, we really are. Like cereally.

What's this? Yes, this is the Supreme Plan For Singapore To Dominate The World: One Frenchman At A Time!

I give you, the emergence of the Berleigh.

I have tons more of delightfully sweet photographs of the newly-paired sweethearts, but cereally, I don't think I can take anymore after being exposed to all those happy-berleigh rays, it was a little too much happy in the air.

So anyway, Leigh and Bertie returned today and I got the go-ahead (okay, I just said I was going to break the news) to put up the photos. Nuria and I have been a little too smug for the past 2 days smiling constantly to ourselves with the knowledge of the strengthening of the France-Singapore alliance, and what it would do to certain parts of the local population. I apologise if you might not understand some of the lingo in this post, I'm writing with plenty of South Park in-jokes, Kah Shin, Nuria and I spent plenty of days watching South Part episodes at night in our hotel rooms.

A few more for the road. These are the other things that were happening in Goa.

Nuria spent most of our meals engrossed with my larger black sketchbook, drawing everything that came into her line of sight. Here she is practicing her now-perfect Fake Smile whilst reading some message I've written in my smaller notebook.

Probably "Gladly gotten greedy groping in Goa", atop a sketch of Kah Shin writing in her notebook and beside a page with a sketch of Nuria herself.

Unit 0.5 of Berleigh.

View from the restaurant. This should be on Colva beach.

One of the many times Nuria went nuts in Goa, often proclaiming how she wants to go home to Singapore. But seriously, we did enjoy some of our trip there. We have all come to the consensus that there was something seriously off about Goa. And it's not the Berleigh, nor the lack of proper roads, it's just something was off.

Maybe the fact that we had to return to MICA.

This is one of the shops at the Anjuna Flea Market. It was pretty cool albeit filled with ang mohs, and completely overpriced, but there were some nice treasures here and there.

That's all I have for you now.

Okay, how about one more for the road?

OMG. The Sweetness. The Sweetness.

XOXO,
Goscip Guy

The Frenchies Have Departed

2008-03-23T15:47:00.004+05:30

I actually managed to complete a 45-minute short film detailing some of the things that we get up to here in MICA. As it is 3 gig in size, I don't think I'll be able to upload it onto YouTube. For anyone even remotely interested in what we've been getting up to here in MICA, I guess unless I decide to export it as a smaller version you'll have to wait till I get back to Singapore to witness the horror that is HandyCam shooting.

Track Listing for this entry:
1. Goodbye by The Coral
2. Where'd You Go by Fort Minor

And I'm back in Ahmedabad, suffering from some kind of throat infection and heat-stroke or somewhat.

The 24-hour bus ride was survivable, only in the middle did I have an odd panic attack and ate my dwindling number of motion sickness pills. I'm down now to 3. We slept/tried to sleep most of the way, and in the end we managed to overcome the bitter cold of the air-conditioned bus at night, the frequent stops along the way to pick people up, the bastard coughing his infection behind us, the horrid horrid Hindi comedy that lasted 3 hours and wasn't in the least bit funny to the two of us (although in my dream-state I think I caught Nuria laughing once), but the rest of the bus was laughing with fervor. The entire thing was a mish-mash of copied scenes from Hollywood films, there was one from Johnny English, and the entire plot seems to be lifted from Rat Race.

But we survived, and got back here, to a dusty room, A/Cs with lizards camping within and hot showers. YES! Hot showers, but not so nice unless you're in Goa with no hot showers and cold weather.

Reminders to self:
1. Rs. 74 to the Dhoby Man
2. Rs. 25 from Nuria
3. Pay MICAfe

I returned to my room with a pleasant surprise under my door - a farewell letter from Romain. This was nice in itself, and an entirely tragic thing, because as the others have probably already mentioned, us Singaporeans and the Frenchies have managed to bond over several things here in MICA. There are so many things I'll miss doing with the Frenchies, and I hope, hope, hope that the movie "Go To Goa" captured enough of our lives here in MICA for the memories to be relived and savoured.

Bye bye Romain, je ne sais pas sure when we'll meet again, but thank you so very much for being just the way you are and being there for us here in MICA. We wouldn't have survived this far without you. And your cynical humour.

Bye bye Marine, I will miss your laughter most of all, and all the times we've managed to have "face-to-face" "group discussions". And also watching you and Leigh gossip on the Silveroak staircase.

Bye bye Bertrand, but of course you'll be headed to Singapore and probably the one I'll most likely meet again sometime this year. And also I'll be seeing you in about 2 days, so we'll save the goodbye for then.

Bye bye Melanie, you will be missed and although it was a shame we didn't get to speak more, I will miss your presence as you catch me walking half-naked to the washroom and subsequent wolf-whistles.

Thanks for all the times spent at MICAfe, Chhorta or the mess, thanks for all the conversations and the material for "Go To Goa", it was a pleasure working with you guys, it was an honour to have made your acquaintance, and to be able to call you guys friends.

Adieu, adieu.

Happy People Make Me Sick (I'm in Goa looking at Old Ang Mohs Melting In the Sun)

2008-03-21T13:27:00.004+05:30

It's another Internet Cafe, in another part of India, and I'm already bored with the beach and shopping. Only because the I've been lying on the beach for more than 5 days now, and shopping on streets in which one has to constantly watch one's toes and back and wallet and bag is just not my cup of tea. All the horning, all the almost-knocking you down vehicles, all the dust and dirt that wafts up as they pass, the hello-konichiwa-where-you-from-China/Korea/Japan? Where from? Where from? Hello, look-see-no-charge.

I liked yesterday the most though. We spent most of the morning (Kah Shin, Nuria and I) wandering around the place looking for a nice breakfast spot. After a while, we just decided to head to Baga Beach for brunch.

We ended up spending most of the day at SWALLY'S. It's a quiet beach shack (just one of many, many, many beach shacks in this place) and we had lunch there. We sat on the deckchairs after that and each one of us had a massage. The lady who gave us the massage was EXCELLENT. This was the first massage that Nuria and I (normally massage-hating people) actually enjoyed. Maybe it's cause we're on holiday, maybe because it was Rs. 400 (approximately $16) for an hour.

Then Leigh and Bertie joined us. Bertie is the only French guy who came with us this time. Marine is off travelling the rest of India with her Father, and our favourite friend Romain is now safely back in France, where he should no longer be feeling depressed. Nor cynical (you hear me!?).

At night we all had dinner at TITO'S, which is supposedly one of India's best clubs/bar/restaurant. I have to agree with the food being great, I wouldn't know about the clubs though (it owns another one down the same road called MAMBO - it's something like a Zouk-Phuture kinda thing) cause we're all not clubbers (or they aren't, maybe me and Bertie). But the food was the best I've had since coming to Goa, because I didn't bother experimenting and face the subsequent disappointment, but went straight for the STEAK. Which came with MASHED POTATOES, which I've been hoping to have for the longest time here but haven't been able to find.

It's also been like a CALAMARI-experiment here, Nuria and I just keep eating calamari at most of the restaurants we sit at. It's like a strange thing I have to do while on holiday. I did it once in Thailand with the Spaghetti Bolognese, going from place to place eating the same dish.

After we had coffee at BARISTA'S. It's their version of Coffee Bean (a less successful Starbucks, the Starbucks equivalent in India is Cafe Coffee Day). Then it was back to the hotel rooms for all of us.

This morning we had breakfast then bid goodbye to Kash. She's taking a flight back to Ahmedabad in order to celebrate Holi with the MICAns. We had breakfast at a German Bakery. I don't know the fascination with German Bakeries, but I can tell you that none of them are German in anyway nor very nice.

There's something strange about the HASH BROWNS in this country as well, all of them are cooked in a similar fashion to Sweet-and-Sour pork. And they're neither sweet nor very sour. Just salty. And tangy.

And then Kash left. And Leigh and Bertie left for the city to buy furniture, Nuria went to walk on her own, and after walking the entire place several times, I find myself heading back to the hotel, to NUA. But not before checking my email and wondering what to do about the homework I'm supposed to hand in.

Nuria and I will be leaving here tomorrow morning, taking a 24-hour bus-ride back to Ahmedabad. Bertie and Leigh will be taking a flight back 2 days later.

We've seen PALOLEM, COLVA, ANJUNA and now BAGA. I'm going back to my room now to play with the PSP and read a book. And a long long long dump. If you need to contact me, wait till I'm back in Ahmedabad, the phones don't work so well here.

p.s. I have lots of photos.

Guest blogger: Bertrand Autin

2008-03-13T05:26:00.002+05:30

haha,
here we are....Mican's of course, the greatest race in the world..I mean the greatest boring one, what else could it be?
Being a Mican for life is supposed to bring us everything that we need in life when we are in bad mood...And that is the case!!Mica makes you stronger, you become a Spartan of the 21st century. You face the time, the food, the monkeys, the mi-animal, mi human creature. You become so strong that nothing in the world could be worst!!!! If you feel bad , just think that you experienced the worst and nothing else can happen.
Hopefully, this provided us some good points, such as...euh....let me think....dammit....I still can't find....Ahhhaahhha it s horrible I think too much!!!!.......I got it I got it=> Go to Goa!!! Was the key learning of the cynical bastards that we are, and finally we're going!!!!!
What the hell are you doing here???? I don't know will say my ex buddy jumper......So.....So.....So.....So.....I mean.....It's not like that....I disagree....(unfortunately you can understand that I can't do the typical movements related to those sentences, I m sure you'll forgive me)
Whatever, I don't have so much to say after 6 months...In fact I think I became a boring person...Let me finish by this definition: MICA, Master In Cynical Art.
Berty, the chicken cheese Frenchy

Guest Blogger: Romain des Courieres

2008-03-13T05:04:00.003+05:30

Hi you lucky fools !

At least you are not spending your lifetime sipping "eck chai" and attending non-sense classes and spending your lifetime to solve some stupid problems in the administration ("ooook oook, one minute, take a sit").

Anyway... "I'm telling you", India is a nice country - except for the pollution / crowd / noise / beggars - but hey still, come to visit us and you'll see the most amazing marble temples, the most luxuriant gardens, the most colorful garments, the most beautiful smiles on children's faces...

"Serrrriously", India is a country full of contrast. Ugly / beautiful, clever but somehow stupid... 6 months are not enough to discover it, tha'ts for sure.

But the part I'll miss the most is when we hung around with our Singap' crew, SYP (small yellow people... pleaaaase pleaaase don't be upset), laughing about MICA but also having serious discussions.

"Ooook oook", tonight was maybe the last night we spent together. Aaah, so sad. I won't enjoy last holidays with them because I don't "GO TO GOA"

This is not an Adieu... it's a Goodbye. Cheers guys.
Romain

Maybe If I Tossed My Hands Up

2008-03-12T01:45:00.002+05:30

I could somehow, win. Not these paltry victories of silence, but an overtly, celebratorable win. Like hadee-ha-ha kind of triumph, I know the intention isn't all that pure, but I'd like to think it's noble enough for the truth I am attempting to commit.

The Edicts of Emperor Nah of the Singapoori Empire

2008-03-10T18:32:00.002+05:30

I'm sitting in a class now where a very intelligent man is rambling on about Indian Cinema. He is not boring mind you, I'm just not paying attention because I'm oddly spaced out. I had to traverse the hot landscape today looking for a DVD, then I had to go look for a computer that can play the DVD, then I spent about 2 hours plus stoning in my room with my PSP because I couldn't do any work whatsoever (lack of equipment to do the work).

Here's an update of the last few days:

Two days ago, I had a CCC class with one of India's eminent design consultants with the National Institute of Design (India). He discovered that we're from Singapore and directed questions at us. At one point he asked me why I came to India and I didn't know what to say. After that he asked me something regarding the strength of Singapore or something and I was kind of lost, because Singapore (rocks and has so many things that are wonderful) just has so many things.

And the guy went into this whole barrage of sentences beginning with "The Power of India is..." and this ended (torturously) only after 2 minutes. During this time, I had to look him in the eye and pretend like I was interested only because I'm Chinese and the issue of mian zi is essential to our functioning.

After this I was cued in to the horror that lay ahead, but couldn't escape the lesson. He continued the second session of the day with something even worse. It started off as a PowerPoint presentation that seemed to want to discuss graphic design, but eventually devolved into something somewhat strange and absolutely irksome.

I have complained before about the occasional individual I meet here who is self-obsessed and nationalistic. This took an entirely new level with this lecturer (he was nice enough to want to end the class early for us to leave for a dinner appointment, but nonetheless), as he displayed a slide of two photos, one had leaves hanging on the doorframe, and the other I can't recall, but it says on the side of one of the photos: Agents of Communication.

He then carries on to say how Indians are very adaptable people, and how their beliefs, culture, and everything in-between will enable them to take over the world. Like dominate. As in to emerge-on-top-because-intrinsically-they-are-better. I have chosen "they" because that's what he meant, and I can't perceive in anyway to state otherwise.

And he said that he made this comment at a conference somewhere and a foreigner deigned it essential to correct him. He then said to him/her that he only needs a month to fully convince him/her.

And another: "We are so diverse, with so many states and languages, which means that if you design a communication here, and it reaches out to such a diverse group of cultures, then it will work for the rest of the world."

Oh yeah sure what cause the entire world is the same and even if you don't leave the country you can know exactly what is going on somewhere else through a "PPT" (as they refer to it here). We don't need to travel to understand someone else viewpoint, we just have to watch movies and read books to know about the people and situation elsewhere. As if everything is so clearcut divisable and determinable.

His criteria for WORLD DOMINATION by the people of India (besides the inherent goodness within the Indian -loosely used here- culture, beliefs and attitudes)?

"We have solved all our problems."
This is the exact statement he made, but of course goes on to refute by saying a few sentences later, that the education system is messed up cause people study things that they'll not use in life later. But they've solved all their problems. Okay, if this is solving communal riots, an inherent desperation for sex that leads to different cases of rape, an even worse legal system in whom the people have absolutely no faith in, a wealth divide that is so great that pervasive that no state in this subcontinent has been able to manage it, etc, etc.

If this is the criteria for WORLD DOMINATION, I am proud to inform the citizens of Singapore that we will soon become the Supreme Leaders of The New World Order. Why, you ask? Because we, like this lecturer's warped view of India, have come closest to eradicating all our problems. Never you mind that we're not even close to being a fraction of the size of India, never mind the fact that we've got a population the size of a tiny town here in India, never mind the fact that we've got no natural resources, no, think only of the worth of our entire nation, the fact that we've boast a low crime rate, we're the fourth largest foreign exchange in the world after New York, London and Tokyo, we have a (relatively) highly educated population, we have a transparent, clean and just government, our economy is booming, we've SORTED OUT ALL OUR PROBLEMS!

WE CAN DOMINATE THE WORLD NOW! WOOT!

Conceptual Art From Class

2008-03-07T02:28:00.005+05:30

I made this wallpaper for MacBooks, inspiration is from a conversation I was having with Jessie earlier this morning, and is a result of both of us missing the suites. It's not intended only for people on exchange, mind you, but for whomever wants it to meant something to them. If someone is running up to you to tell you that I made this to spite someone, or hurt someone or leave countless dead in the wake of my design genius, I would humbly request that you deny them their manipulative strategies and say you want to have it as your wallpaper too. That would show them you're not a mindless toy with no real independent thought now would it? And of course now someone will think that I'm writing this with the intention of hurting someone, and there's no defence against such stupidity is there? And as such, if you think so, then let me only say at this point in time that no such silliness is embedded here and it is only meant to bring about love and peace and joy. I'm not being sarcastic, I know you think I'm incapable of thinking such nice pure happy thoughts, but then again, only friends would be able to know such things.

As much money as humanly possible should be made within the shortest amount of time, and barring any weird Acts of God, traverse the entirety of this planet and see what the hype is all about. And be happy, some of that too, of course.

Happiness comes in a 5kg package from Singapore, packed to the brim with all kinds of stuff. Thanks to lovely family (aunts and all included of course). And Dad, I'm sorry I haven't picked up your calls, got too used to not carrying my phone with me.

I discovered in conversation also that there are rumours about me in school being a twat (in a variety of capacities, none flattering of course, but differ only in terms of crimes), and it seems that most of the people actually in the know about such rumours have never spoken to me before. Like ever. Which makes it even more fascinating to me, because it sheds light on an entirely new level of ignorance. And I shall endeavour to make only the effort I've carried on thus far, of merely talking to one person at a time. I can't win the world, and you can't win me over.

Like all things, the getting of things to work here is quite an impossibility. I apologise sincerely for the griping, but it's late and I get cranky when I have been doing work and not playing Jeanne D'Arc on my PSP (courtesy of Joan dearest).

goodnight for now. I bid goodnight to my dearest love, as she lays in the arms of another, and I tell myself nice lies to make a once-love work for my dreams again in a sequence of endless wishful nights.

NURI IS SCARING ME aka Everyone Is Out To Impress

2008-03-06T00:44:00.003+05:30

Once upon a time, I would write angsty poems about my pain, and how I'm suffering in this shell of mortality, how the world is absolutely unfair to my existence, how someone is this and that, and how I'm not, I would pine for a girl whom I've yet to know, worry myself to death about what this person thinks or what they do not think about me, and get all "dark and twisty" inside over silly things that don't matter. See my old blog entries.

And I'm not here to tell you how I've come so far (together, our common destiny) from that and learnt that the great truth about it all is that it boils down to pretending. In life, one either pretends to be something, or one discovers others who feel comfortable enough not to pretend with. That is all. Everything else is just fluff. Made up to make that person feel intrinsically unique and provide a sense of a valued existence.

Which means absolutely nothing when you think about it. No, seriously read this line again. It doesn't mean what it usually does. It means nothing.

We've Been Colonised By the French

2008-03-05T17:44:00.002+05:30

We're seated in a row from left to right: Romain, Me, Leigh and Nuria. The other Frenchies aren't here, and Kash is seated in a different row. So the teach is wondering why everyone doesn't seem to know the names of the Indian films he's throwing out, and he says, looking straight in our direction "I can forgive the French if they don't know these films, but..." And I wonder if Singapore's become a colony of France.

Chinese Hegemony Accusations and I'm-Too-Cool-For-This-Shit

2008-03-05T03:36:00.002+05:30

Being here in India, I've actually discovered many things about myself, and I shall share them with you right now. This will be as honest a post as I can make it without offending nor being entirely objective (for the sake of learning one must understand another's experience).

I wake up in the morning/afternoon, wake Leigh up (or am awoken by her), knock on Nuria's door, and we all head to breakfast before class. We will consider knocking on Kah Shin's door at the staircase, but someone will provide the information that she's not in her room.

We then head to the Mess where I grunt some form of acknowledgment to any CCC guys who might be there. The Frenchies have different classes most days. Or we will meet them in the mess and we'll sit at my favourite long table (in my favoured chair) and have our breakfast.

We (as a bunch) will then walk to class with whomever may have joined our table. We have conversations with the CCC people as they come and go from the table. We rarely seek them out for anything during the day, unless someone has borrowed a hard-disk or if someone needs help with something. Chances are we're holed up in our rooms doing our work.

We know a few people here and there from the PGP course. Some we've met from classes, some we've met along the way. We do not seek them out either. We make acquaintances when they happen and we treasure these meetings. The next time we see them, we do small things like make conversation, give chocolate biscuits or have tea.

I know several students here. I do not know them well, but I recognise them and they recognise me. I am not a very outgoing person who will seek out people for company and make small talk. I find it exceptionally dreary to speak to someone out of necessity and desire for company, especially if I find that person incompatible with my personality. I am naturally suspicious of people, because I have been proven right about people on several occasions and when I've chosen to ignore my instincts, I get proven right later on.

This is how I function. I will make conversation with someone when I need something from them. This is self-interest, everyone does it, it's only if they want to acknowledge it, and it depends on how much they need from that someone else.

I would speak to you if I thought that your company was nice and enriching. I would talk to you if I've known you for awhile and don't find you irritating, stupid or weird. Yes, I have a low threshold for stupidity. I have an even greater abhorrence for rude people. This sounds too arrogant for you? Well, it's cause I'm being honest here. No one makes conversation with someone else for nothing. Even wanting to know more about that person has a motive there. One just needs to see it.

On a daily basis, we hang out with one another (French and Singaporean alike) because we enjoy one another's company. We like to think we're friends. And we are. We are in a way that isn't totally self-serving, there is no us against them, there is no my gang of exchange students versus the local students. We merely have more in common, having lived in the same place for awhile now, and the similar context of being on exchange.

This is an argument that people have made to me:

If you're not keen on making friends with the local students, then what is the point of going on exchange?

Here is my take:

1) I've come on exchange without any conception of what I'm going to do here and with no lofty aims of anything, but so far I've had my mind blown by the various experiences I've had.

2) If anything, I consciously, and let me repeat this, consciously decided to come on exchange because I wanted to challenge myself. I didn't set out to make tons of friends, those of you who know me know that I'm not the trusting, needy sort. And what the hell is a 'friend' anyway? My definition isn't people whom you just constantly try and associate with because one thinks they're cool and that this "coolness" would rub off on one.

3) Going on exchange and making friends is not the aim. At least not for me. I'm not going to say, I've come to India and because I don't have an extended Facebook count of People-I-Know, my experience is diminished.

4) I would be glad and happy to know that I've made a few pals here, and gotten to know those friends around me better, than to perceive that I'm loved because I walk up to more acquaintances and am uber-friendly.

5) I came here to learn more about myself and about the world around me. I've learned plenty so far, but if not making "friends" is an issue, then oh-I'm-so-sorry-mom for wasting your money. Because I thought an exchange was meant for one to do what one wants to do and be as happy as possible.

6) And I'm elated at my current situation (except for the exams, the essays and the constant staring).

7) I suppose when one feels content with the situation and people around, that's when one feels no need to constantly be on the prowl for affection.

Remember.

2008-03-04T15:02:00.002+05:30

"For a start, it is likely that Mas Selamat's escape will be painted and hailed by other members of the Jemaah Islamiyah (JI) as an act of divine intervention: The "narrative" of how Mas Selamat, with the odds stacked against him, was able to miraculously beat Singapore's security system with spiritual assistance. "

- from Channel Newsasia

Nuria is telling me about this maid who wanted to seduce some cousin with the help of a bomoh (practitioner of magic). Before this she told me that her mother's pal has a theory that the Mas escaped with Black Magic. I think CNA is trying to tell us the same thing as well. So this guy sacrificed his leg to some demon to allow him to leave the place undetected and be invisible for a few days. This is my expansion on the theory.

The same lady (I believe that there's no mom's pal really, just Nuria herself) suggested that they get a bomoh from Indonesia to track Mas down. I am of the same opinion, get a bunch of mystics together, form an elite team of Mystical Hunters and get Mas! For Singapore! FTW!

More Than Just Eck Cocks And Ass.

2008-03-03T17:21:00.002+05:30

Today in Indian cinema class we watched the film, "Son Frere". Or My Brother. It is a French film set in Paris, and the first soundtrack piece comes in only right about now, at the 1 hour plus mark. And it's an English song. There's a weird magic realist scene all of a sudden. Whihch makes absolutely no sense.

Just like the countless number of moments where private parts are shown, people are getting naked and gay sex is refused. I mean, I don't mind edgy films or films that don't make sense, but it gets a bit repetitive if one scene jumps to another, then cocks are in the scene, and then some ass here and there, two cheeks for the price of one, thrown in for good measure.

The cinematography is fine, but honestly. What is the reasoning behind it? If it is meant to evoke some sense of his vulnerability or the intimacy between two people I get some of it, but it's EVERYWHERE in this film.

And now the projector died. And me along with it.

Note: Oh goody! Now he's going into the water naked! We watch his ass as he walks in...

I Remember Now Why I Loved The Holiday

2008-03-03T00:59:00.007+05:30

We had to do this for Transcreativity the other day, a few weeks back. We had to colour the different zodiac signs. I don't think I've put this up yet, but I coloured this I-don't-remember-what-star-sign (Gemini?) and made the tag. The original tag's typeface and colours were off, so I made an update for posterity on this blog.

They still haven't found the dude yet.

And why should they? He's only got a limp and yet (and yet) he's an escape artist.

Oh my. I do so hope they catch him soon though, I can't take anymore speculation as how he did it or why they released him. All those Crimewatch episodes showing how efficient our Force is and it's all come to naught.

GO SPF!

Yeah I, Tell You Something

2008-03-02T18:04:00.002+05:30

I am doing an essay on Prince Caspian now for Metaphors and Narratives. I am very very sleepy. I don't have anything to say at the moment, only because I think I'm trying to reserve all my writing ability for my essay. Talk to you later.

I love you guys. Says Eric Cartman.

Someone placed Across the Universe on the servers! Woot!

Not-So-Old Secondary School Teachers

2008-03-01T18:07:00.002+05:30

The title is nothing to do with the post, but you already know I do that don't you?

This is for Nuria's mom, who requested that one of the portraits be made into a transexual. Here you are auntie, it's the least I can do for your fantastically-great-company daughter (who holes up in her room all the time and refuses to come out to play). Enjoy. It's the best I could do in the short notice.

Stand Up For Singapore! Do The BEST You Can!

2008-02-29T13:19:00.002+05:30

He's a master of disguise. Walks with a limp, last seen in Whitley detention facility. I heard SCGS parents have kept their daughters at home.

Mas Selamat planned to hijack a plane to crash into Changi Airport. Now why would you want to do that Mr. Selamat? We just opened the new Terminal 3, it's nice and big and all, or so I heard.

When I heard this I thought of a script involving the dude having been tagged with RFID tech and that it's not possible for him to have truly escaped. He must have been "allowed" to escape. Then we'll catch him again. Hopefully.

Current conspiracy theory about this is that it's a ruse meant to scare the citizens of Singapore and remind them that the terror threat is very real and close to home. I didn't come up with this one. I heard it from someone else. So don't catch me gahmen. Please. Otherwise I'll I have to stay here in India.

I've done my part, that is a poster with the possible disguises the dude might take. I did it cause the two photographs shown of him look like the same one (are they?), just that the second one's got a goatee and tan.

GO GET HIM SPF!!!

Yeah, Yeah It's a Leap Year And All That.

2008-02-29T10:28:00.004+05:30

Yesterday we had another day of Creative Search Engines, where we had to imagine paperweights and stuff. The paperweight experience is simple, you sit in a circle and the lecturer then tells you (straight in the eye - or my eyes at least) that there's a paperweight seated on the ground in the center of everyone (when there is none).

It is exercise in Imagination. Everyone is told to describe the paperweight they see, and thereafter we all take turns to do so. I found it a fascinating study into the subconscious - everyone described something that was reflective of their thoughts, and it was astounding.
Although, mine was a black silver metal ball that held universes inside of it.

Then we had a Brainstorming exercise. This one involves the creation and marketing of a tail. Yes, a tail meant for humans. You could do anything you wanted with it, so this is what my group ended up with.

CUCUMBERSOME. I just made that up to say to Nuria. Happy songs make me sick. I say to Leigh. I'm sorry, I slept at 4 am and now it's 10.22 am and I'm waiting for class cause we woke up to have breakfast thinking class is at 10 am.

For the past 3 days we've been working non-stop making ad scripts, ad posters, campaigns and what-nots, so when I had some time yesterday, I played with the PSP till about 4. That would be about 8 hours of it. Or so.

And I don't really have anything to report at this time. Maybe later.

This Is Nuri(a).

2008-02-27T16:46:00.002+05:30

So Yuffie from FFVII: Advent Children reminds Mr. Bean of Nuria. I am inclined to agree with him, even though the resemblance might only be in the hair. Or mostly.

The Funny of the Day: Guy buys chocolate tart for girl. Girl says no.

"The believer is happy. The doubter is wise."

2008-02-27T15:46:00.002+05:30

The quote from class today. I had to read it out, and I love it.

Vodcasting From India: New Haircut

2008-02-26T23:33:00.000+05:30

Averse To Too-Confirming People.

2008-02-26T19:41:00.003+05:30

And Incidentally

2008-02-25T00:07:00.001+05:30

I miss my favourite producer in the world. You know who you are, sorry for the lack of a reply on Facebook, I've been busy getting bored in my room trying to do homework and write up a script.

The Death of Polaroid and Other Tales of Abandoned Art-Tech.

2008-02-24T22:16:00.004+05:30

Plenty of things have been going on here at The Silver Oak Resort Spa, and plenty of things have also not gone on. What do I mean?

Well, there was a falling out of sorts between some friends - incidentally I was privy to the confrontation details as it occurred "live" next door, thanks (or no thanks) to the rather thin brick walls and equally hollow plastic door of my room.

It was a surprising moment.

We were invited to dinner by Harshal, a special dinner for Linda and her NGO friends (ang mohs interning at an Ahmedabad-based NGO dealing with disaster-relief and development). He invited them for dinner and Kash offered to cook Chicken Rice for everyone with the spices/seasoning she got from home (in a package that looked like it weighed a ton from her parents - I think). I think she made Kiam Chai Teng (salty vegetable soup?) as well, but I'm not sure.

I'm not sure because the vegetables meant to be swimming in soup were placed in a plate and the soup was absent from the table. It (the soup) had been discarded by the Mess Hall cooks during the period of time she left the Mess Kitchen and went elsewhere. Harshal collected the large basins of rice and chicken and they also gave him the plate of vegetables. Kash came back to the Silveroak kitchen (where we were going to have our dinner) and wondered out loud the whereabouts of her soup. And discovered only the greens.

If I haven't previously mentioned Linda, I shall clarify for you now. Linda is an European girl (I keep forgetting from where) whom Marine made friends with when they were both in the Chocolate Room. They struck up a close friendship from there.

The people present at the dinner were Leigh, Nuria, Kash, Andrea (Portugal), Mexican Girl, Julian the Australian, Linda, Harshal, Melanie and myself. I apologise if I've gotten anyone's name wrong (or not at all).

Chicken was obtained from Masty Foods, a kebabs restaurant near to Reliance Mart (our favouritest place in the whole world). They got drumsticks and some kebabs, and also uncooked chicken pieces for Kash's Chicken Rice. She had gotten some chicken rice mix/seasoning from a package sent from home.

After dinner we all sat around and talked among ourselves. Being me, I take longer to warm up to people, and as such, I wasn't so comfortable making the necessary small talk with the guests. I did find it easy talking to Andrea (Portugal) though. It was also probably because she was seated in front of me. But otherwise it was weird for us. I had the distinct feeling it was weird for the guests as well, considering that they didn't know us and didn't know what to say to us, not to mention dragging them all the way from the city to have a Chinese dish.

But I wouldn't know for sure. So anyway, here's an excerpt from the night's conversation:

GIRL
So how big is Mexico?

MEXICAN GIRL
(bewildered) Uh, hmm how do I describe it? It's... large... okay, India is about 3 times the size of Mexico.

GIRL
Okay. Do you guys all wear the stupid large hats? (gesturing the shape of the wide hats)

MEXICAN GIRL
Heh, no, that's just in the movies.

GIRL
Haha, do you guys all have tequilas at every meal?

MEXICAN GIRL
Oh no, no we don't.

GIRL
What do you guys eat? Is it all burritos? Do you have it all the time?

MEXICAN GIRL
Uh, no, it is more traditional but no, we have other things...

I am recalling this now about 2 days after the dinner, so forgive me if I got any of the details wrong. If anyone at the dinner has a different account or would like to extend this conversation, or would like me to make any corrections, do let me know via my email.

So after we all had the chips, cheetos, drumsticks, kebabs, chicken-rice chicken and chicken-rice-rice, coke, frooti (mango drink) and ice-cream, everyone adjourned to different places. The group of International NGO Interns, Harshal, Melanie and Kash went to Chhota, whilst Leigh, Nuria, Bertie and I went to MICAfe for some drinks. This ritual of MICAfe after dinner is now a permanent thing. We do it almost every night. This does not apply to Ms. Nuria Ling, who's always got someone about to call her cell. So sometimes she doesn't come with us.

I think Harshal fetched them back to their flat in the City after that.

In other news: The beloved Chhota Swing has met its demise and is no longer a fixture with which to use in a Pictonary game for "swing". Nuria weeps along with the other MICAns.

All that happened 2 days ago. Yesterday evening Bertie, Marine, Romain, Nuria, Leigh and I went to Reliance before heading to Masty Foods kebabs restaurant for dinner. The manager impressed us all when he came up to our table speaking perfect English with a hint of an American education, ensuring Nuria that the meat was Halal, differentiating Paghaddi kebab from the normal ones for Leigh, and eventually shaking my hand in thanks for feasting at the place. Of all the people at the table he chose to direct this thanks to me, making it all the more awkward after when everyone started to make fun of me. The "Alpha-Male" society joke I keep throwing at Nuria came back to bite me, the Frenchies were all laughing, and Leigh "Four-Lines-Face" Khoo was smiling as well.

It was a good meal and one of those dinners you wish you could keep in your memories but know that with each passing day you'll forget the feelings it gave you.

Ah Well.

Exceptionally Depressing, But Entirely Exceptional

2008-02-22T19:41:00.002+05:30

An excerpt:

"Friday, December 28, 2007:
a 13-year-old basset hound in kidney failure. she was so kind and licked my face as i carried her in from the car for the owner. he was a sweet old man with tears in his eyes. i fed her an entire bag of treats and she kept eating ferociously even after the injection. her chewing slowed down and then she was gone."

Quoted from this blog.

Exercise In Class

2008-02-22T16:30:00.003+05:30

The Frog is ours and it will turn into a Princess because it is a metaphor for our writing. So we're supposed to take care of it then it will be nurtured.

EXERCISE: In 5 minutes, write a short story that must feature in the first line, the following 3 words - candle, rope and love. Ignore grammar if need be, disregard commas, etc.

"Candle, rope, love" - Those were the 3 words he had scrawled across one of the walls of the roo in blood. Oh yes, I shouldn't really say "he" should I? The Left Hand of Doom could be a woman for all we know, but the case profile seems to hint that the serial killer is a man. The M.O. as usual for is murder is the same, a sledgehammer swung straight down upon a naked girl held down on a workbench, limbs held fast by metal vices,"

- At this point the teach introduced a word: BLUE, which we were to use -

"The blue paint he splashes over their bodies after he had fucked their lifeless bodies was caked dry and made the grisly sight somewhat artsy. Even Warhol couldn't top this."

All in five minutes, while everyone else wrote splendidly lofty prose I was busy thinking about crime fiction that makes no sense. And even worse reading material. But this exercise was to prove a point that Writer's Block can be cured.

Then the next exercise after lunch came and it was to do with the following scenario:

You know a guy, but he's just an acquaintance you've borrowed a book from. You go to his apartment in a 20-storey building to find that he's not home. His mom takes the book from you, and says he'll be back soon. You say you'll come back after because want to discuss some ideas with him. You go up to the roof to enjoy the view and there your friend is, clear as day, standing on the parapet about to leap. What do you say to him (in 100 words or less)?

Hey dude, I came by to return your book, your mom's waiting for you to come back. How's the view from there? I came up to catch a glimpse, is that a better way to experience the view? I wouldn't know, I don't live in a 20-storey building. Hey, if you don't mind, could we talk about the book first before catching the view, I need to submit the homework, even if you don't seem keen on doing it anymore. And oh, if you're really really really serious about the view, could you wait till I've left the building? I don't want to give a statement and all that. And oh, do leave a note for your family as well, explanations make it more convenient for the Police investigation and your family's grieving process. And oh, carbon monoxide poisoning is easier and painless. But leave me out of that as well.

Self-serving bastard. Heh.

BEST MOMENT OF THE DAY:
When Nuria delivered her version of the Suicide-Prevention-Speech, in all its Singaporean Glory. See her blog for the speech. Imagine a room filled with Indians all stumped as the first line drops and 4 Singaporeans burst out in laughter (some much louder than others), all of them bewildered as Nuri (hahahahaha, she hates it when her BFF calls her that) drops line after line of Singlish-Goodness. Then I had to do the translation.

Why Are They Just Standing There?

2008-02-21T14:35:00.003+05:30

THIS IS ~~FUCKING~~ POINTLESS. ~~KILL~~ CREATIVITY ME NOW.

Um. Taking Life's Inspiration.

2008-02-21T14:23:00.004+05:30

GIRL

You look good today.

BOY
Uh...

GIRL
Hey, say it back even if you don't mean it.

BOY.
Non-commital. Yeah, you look good.

"NURIA, YOU MANLY WOMAN YOU'RE DAMN FAKE. YOUR ACTING REALLY SUX." - This is part of the conversation I want to remember. Then one day Nuria will finally listen to me when I say, in an arrogant, prideful way:

I told you so.

The Things Famous Directors Possess...

2008-02-21T12:30:00.004+05:30

1. Photography
2. Acting
3. Imagination
4. Execution
5. Narration
6. Sound
7. Relationship
8. Communication
9. Symbolism
10. Patience
11. Psychology
12. Dance
13. Music
14. Fiction
15. Logistics
16. Body Language

... that they should see in you. I learnt this in class today. Nuria's offering: "He needs to be God."

Oh god, another pseudo-happy person. I'm not cynical.

2008-02-21T12:11:00.000+05:30

OH HAPPY DAY!

2008-02-21T10:41:00.004+05:30

What's this? Joan calls me on my cell and asks me if I've gotten the package. So I rush over to the admin offices and sign this out. DHL? Wow. I love working pals. I love you Joan.

I collect it, and Leigh wants to know what Joan has written on the packet to enable the sending through of the contents of my package. And this is what it said:

"Gift - CD containing data (stationery sets pen Holder)"

The "Pen Holder" from Bee Cheng Hiang. The Stationery Sets consist of 5 pens from Jack Links.

OH TO HAVE KNOWN SUCH VACUUM-PACKED JOY!

Thank you Joan Sng for all the joys in the world you bring to my poor Ahmedabad-Heart.

Pictionpornary

2008-02-21T02:52:00.002+05:30

The outlined image is the original drawing done by Leigh this evening for the Pictionary game. She was laughing so hard initially when she picked up the card and just before drawing I knew what she was going to sketch. This was the product.

Congrats Leigh on the full corruption. Blame Mr. Bean.

Scripts, Pictionary & Pornopoly.

2008-02-20T04:20:00.008+05:30

NEW! The following 8 or so photos were added at 4.33 pm on Feb 20th (Wed) 2008. So if you've already gone through most of the drawings this morning, this sorta constitutes as a new post.

This is Nuria when we were in a CCC class the other day, this message was held up for Kash on the other side of the room.

Puncture by Bertie

Bruise by Bertie

Bruise part duex by Bertie

Lamb Chops by Bertie

"Lamb" part of Lamb Chops by Bertie

Row by Nuria

Twiddling Your Thumbs by Bertie

---------------------------------------------------------------

There is something wrong with Blogger at this point so some of the photos from tonight/this morning's (it's now 4.48 am as I type this) Pictionary game didn't make it up here. But here are those that managed to get uploaded before I gave up on forcing the system to accept more:

Acupuncture by Nuria.

Squash by Melanie

Radiation by me

Strike by me

Row by me

Abandon Ship by Leigh

Abandon Ship Part Deux by Leigh, Melanie and I didn't manage to guess it in the end still.

Part of Lamp Chops by Leigh

Other part of Lamp Chops by Leigh (this is the chopping action).

Another part of Lamb Chops by Leigh

Acupuncture by me

Javelin by Melanie

"French" part of French Dressing by Nuria (the stick people are on the France previously drawn by Bertie to represent France against England for English Channel).

English Channel by Bertie

Fox by Harshal

Part of Dog Sleigh by Nuria (I think).

Trap by Nuria

Angel by Nuria

Hitchhike by me

Angel by me

Death Valley by Melanie

Train by me

Swing by Leigh (this was envisioned as Chhota's tyre-swing by her and guessed by me, we do really love that place I suppose).

Dog Sleigh by Leigh

So I Had Diarrhea Again.

2008-02-19T13:13:00.002+05:30

This morning. And yesterday too. I suspect it's Chhota's horrendous food hygiene. Never going to eat there again. The chai seems fine. Even though they recycle the plastic cups thrown into the black bins, taking the bin to the back of the place and then washing them out. Which means that sometimes you get cups that are leaky but the dude washing didn't manage to catch it. Which is why most of the students here crush the cups before throwing them away. And even that might not prevent the saving of the cup.

I am currently reading Muhammad by Karen Armstrong, and incidentally a reason for this book's inception is because of the Rushdie Incident, which spawns from his writing of The Satanic Verses, which also happens to be the book I'm writing an essay on.

Also reading C.S. Lewis' Prince Caspian for Metaphors and Narratives class, we are supposed to revisit one of the classic books we used to read as children, then do an essay on it. I didn't read anything proper like Enid Blyton as a kid, so I suppose this is me reliving a lost childhood. It's a pretty good book, so far. I like the illustrations inside.

ALSO reading the Before Sunrise and Before Sunset screenplay by Richard Linklater and Kim Krizan (the former), and Richard Linklater, Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy wrote the latter. It seems that India is where I'd discover Linklater. Just before getting this book I'd just watched A Scanner Darkly, and have A Waking Life waiting to be completed in my hard disk.

10 more books sit on my table waiting to be touched.

Last night I had one of the best experiences ever in MICA, and even if it all turned out oddly, I can still remember the sense of awe, fear, excitement and relief that intermingled to make up such a simple event. Let's say Tarot Card Reading (for future references). And of course, thanks to Leigh and G for making it all happen. Leigh for getting me down, G for doing what he did.

Every Ounce of Confidence.

Dear Auntie (Mothers of Friends Who Read This),

2008-02-17T11:57:00.003+05:30

It might be said that my brain harbours some misfiring synapse but one has to be thankful for the non-emo rants I've been having as of late. Reading someone constantly whining about his ex-girlfriend from 2 years back is absolutely dreadful, and if one has to ever endure such a torturous experience, one should immediately save oneself through the closing of the browser.

Even so. Writing to Future People On Valentine's Day was homework - okay, wait - I don't mean to say that I didn't mean those words (this line is for future girl who took those words to heart), I just mean that Present Day Mothers of Friends should not base their consideration of my mental state on an entry written for homework (once again future-love don't take offence).

All this time-travelling is making me woozy. What the hell am I going on about? Well, I received this email from Nuria entitled "my mum on skype":

ok go ahead n watch. I m reading Erwin's blog on his valentine letter
to a valentine that has yet to exist. This boy leans on the strange
but i can see that he has loads of potential

And I thought to reunassure her mom. Who is reading this, and should be aware that I'm joking about this entirely. Also ignore please the first sentence of that paragraph which should make no sense to anyone whatsoever, one should not go further to connect that line to anything regarding pornographic material either.

Yes, I have loads (of potential).

Conversation That Happened Outside My Room

2008-02-15T19:28:00.003+05:30

Dude. Do you want to play Monopoly? They're going to watch porn.
Girl. So do you want to play Monopoly or watch porn?
Dude. Are you going to watch porn?
Girl. No, I prefer to play Monopoly.

Oddest conversation I've heard in a long long while. And it happened outside my room, and incidentally... uh, never mind.

Classroom Violence

2008-02-15T11:01:00.002+05:30

My mind is a blank right now, cause I'm in a class right now and we're watching past video adverts from the previous batches. I must have seen 20 ads on sex/aids already.

Valentine's Day was alright I suppose, there was a bit of in-house trouble, but it's resolved now. Sorta. Leigh played badminton for 3 hours +, Nuria stayed in here room making phone calls and what-not, I watched South Park before we all headed to watch the ragging.

We Came In From the Bathroom Window

2008-02-14T17:38:00.002+05:30

The assignment we got from the lecturer when we walked into class was to write a letter to someone for Valentine's and send it to someone through SMS or email. Here's what I gave:

Dearest Darling Girl-Whom-I've-Yet-To-Know,

Greetings from the year 2008, I know this is strange but it's Valentine's Day today and it seems I need to do an assignment for CCC. This is the best course I've ever taken.

Anyway. I love you. I know you know it now, but I think this is the best time to let you know again. Through my past self. I love you, I know people say they don't know why they love someone, but in this case, my past self honestly does not know. I don't know why I love you. Honestly (in the year 2008). But I'm sure my future self will be able to recount to you all your perfect little flaws and lovely adorable imperfections.

But for now, I'll write this love letter to you based on what I think you should be like (essentially this is a criteria I think I'll be looking out for in the future, so bear with me my future love of my life):

1) I love you because you are more beautiful to me than anyone else. I do not mean you're prettier than all the other girls, but that your appearance appeals most to me. This is an isolated case.

2) I love you because you are not crazy, I am assuming that you are not, although one could argue that you are insane, for actually sticking with me.

3) I love you because you understand all the jokes I make, and even when you don't, you pretend like you do.

4) I love you because you don't spend too much money, at least not my money.

5) I love you because this cheesy message is making you smile, and your smile is all I live for each day.

6) I love you more each morning, because during the day you'll make it infuriatingly hard to be with you, but each night you give me back all the love (at least I hope you'll do) that's lost and I wake again to a new cycle.

7) I love you more each day from today, because I don't know who you are, and I can just make up my hopes each and every moment until that fateful day I meet your lips in the pouring rain, after chasing you halfway across the city even if I know you have a handphone and we're at the airport but you have no plane to catch.

8) I love you because that's the only possible thing I can feel when I'm with you.

Chinese New Years, Badmintons, Hearts & Minds

2008-02-10T20:13:00.000+05:30

It is Day 4 of the Transcreativity lesson, and this morning's session dealt with Dream Analysis. The psychiatrist who came to see us told us stuff about dreams and how to decipher some of the symbols that might be representative of our innermost thoughts, and us COM207 students were pretty skeptical, especially when he told us that the roman numerals each have some phallic relation, for example, 3 represents male genitalia, and 4 represents female genitalia. 2 represents the anus, etc. I was alright with him telling us these things, and sharing with us some of his cases, but Kash got pretty angsty with the lecturer and began to grill him in that fashion. I was pretty stunned at the reaction that seemed to be building in her and steeled myself for some form of intervention. None was necessary in the end, cause she quit after a bit.

The afternoon session was much better. This session involved Palmistry and the original computer-aided palmist came to talk to us. I think he's the original, since he's the only one who actually bothered back in the 80s to buy a computer and scanner thing to read palms/build a database. Anyway, his English was reminiscent of the Delhi guide (but slightly better), but all was forgiven when he began to give personal palm readings after the lecture. I got chosen (once again - the course teacher has a thing about directing questions at me first before the rest) to start the ball rolling and I gladly went ahead. I was anxious to confirm the details of the previous palm reading and have the discrepancy blown wide open.

I was sorely disappointed and had my mind blown. The dude could tell my (Nuria's as well) exact age, and confirmed everything that had been read in my palm previously by our student guide. Which means that I'll be using this blog for its intended purpose longer than I expected.

And I've got to stand in the sun for 2 minutes every morning to give myself clarity.

Excuse Me If I'm Not Too Keen On Sharing.

2008-02-08T03:25:00.000+05:30

Today was the first day of our new module called "Transcreativity". This is a 5-day workshop in which we are exposed to all kinds of art-forms and we will be able to transcend creativity and become oneisallalldesignisone. It began with a lecture, followed by Karthak (?) which is a traditional story-telling Indian dance, lunch, a sharing session, and then a magic show. The magic show was hilarious because the Magician (whose real calling in life is as a Hindu priest - I think he's Hindu, but I'm not too sure, the lecturer just said priest so I am assuming alot, but bear with me) has this extremely comic demeanour about him which just cracks anyone up. His best has got to be the way he fixes his eye on you when you've said/done something which comes across as "acting smart". Oh I had so much fun deciphering his meaning from the Hindi he spoke, amazingly I actually manage to understand what he's going on about most of the time, Nuria didn't believe me, so I checked with the Indian student next to me and I hit it on the head (the gist of what the magician was saying, not the Indian student). Tomorrow we're having something else.

This evening I walked 2 rounds around the campus with Ritz (this girl in my group for Transcreativity) and making small talk. After that we had our Chinese New Year Day 1 feast, courtesy of the Mess Hall manager who decided that he'd make for us Murgh Makhani and set up a nice long table away from the other students on the teacher's side of the mess. The food was good.

Then it was badminton again, Leigh asked for support during her badminton deathmatch and I went. So it was Harshal, Bertie and me rooting/clapping for a distraught-looking Leigh on the court.

Chhota till 0130. Walked back, showered. Goodnight world.

P.S. we've got to do a bloody skit for the module. I hate acting. I'm terrible at it, and I hate watching bad acting even more than acting badly myself.

It's the End of the World As We Know It, And All I Can Think Of Is Bak Kwa.

2008-02-07T02:08:00.003+05:30

So the fifth line has been cut.

Considering that I was affected here when the SeaMeWe-4 line was cut, and that I felt the effects of the sudden loss of Internet immediately, I wonder what would happen if this was truly an act of sabotage intended to cripple the world.

Reading Cormac McCarthy's The Road - a novel about a father and son in a post-apocalyptic United States adds to my anxiety. I don't know if I should panic or be elated like a fanboy dreaming of the Post-Apocalyptic Steampunk world to survive in ala Mad Max or The Matrix (RL). But it complicates matters a little if I'm stuck in India.

Which gives me an idea for a post-apoc story of Singaporeans stuck in India and desperately trying to make it back home. Here is my plan for the end of civilisation as I know it if the stock markets and world order crashes as a result of the sabotage of oceanic fibre-optic lines:

1. Establish a safety zone around and within MICA.
2. Venture out after enough supplies have been gathered and
3. The trip back home has been planned effectively
4. Get weapons along the way.
5. Survive brigands and warlords.
6. Fight off the zombies/mutants/monsters/old gods
7. Live on till we make it through Burma, Thailand and Malaysia.
8. Rebuild back in Singapore.

On a lighter note, we had our Reunion Dinner at Mirch Masala, which is a decent meat-serving restaurant here in Ahmedabad. We had Leigh's favourite Murgh Makhani (butter chicken), kebab platter and cheese naan. They make a mean cheese naan there.

We had discussions on The Competitive Nature of Harshal In Regards To Badminton, Thesis on the Bunch of Cynical Bastards Badminton Team: Being All Fun and Polite Games, Wondering The Necessity of Exaggeration and Hello, Hi, Who's This? Leigh's Phonecall Overheard.

Then we returned to MICA, had drinks (non-alcoholic, chai, coffee, nimboo pani which is limewater, coke or Bournvita which is like hot chocolate) at MICAFE sometimes called TT (Tongue Tickler - this place is a confused place because it has so many names), then moved with Bertie to Chhota where we (Leigh, Me and Bertie) sat for the next 2 hours or so talking about random things.

Leigh has all the photos of the "celebrations", Nuria has the photos of the food. Check out their blogs on the sidebar. I've also come to the understanding that the French people are having a sort of parallel situation to ours, and it is uncanny how things develop (dare-vhere-lope) in a similar fashion for people of different cultures/nationalities. More on this when I return back home.

I need to sleep now. I can't give any more years and longevity to my parents. Goodnight everyone, happy Chinese New Year to one and all.

Chinese New Year Isn't Going According to Plan

2008-02-06T16:49:00.000+05:30

I think I should start a sideline business of retrieving keys from doors. Just today I found Kash's keys left in her doorknob, which I subsequently returned to her after some needling about her tendency to lose things.

After a long afternoon of badminton, I find Nuria's keys left in her doorknob. So I took it and now it's hanging from the router plug.

Tonight we'll be going to the kebabs place Masty's for a sorta-Reunion Dinner, considering that we did not manage to get the cook to cook for us, and the hassle it was going to take to do everything last minute. So we'll eat out. Leigh's friend sent her some goodies (which of course she kindly offered to the rest of us) from back home, prompting Nuria to begin her own rendition of the Chinese New Year dong-dong-dong-chiang song. I had to walk past her as she started up, and my facial expression is exactly like the one of Kyle in the previous entry.

This is Leigh unwrapping her boxed present from back home.

This is how pleased Leigh looked with herself as she took out each container in turn. She was really grinning like a ravenous wolf. Cut me some slack if you don't like the metaphor.

Drats! We should have taken some Leadership, Culture and Communication course, it's about 2 AUs worth back home, and it's some oddball module that involves yoga, drawing on mahjong paper and talking about one's feelings. With no exam. Drats! Oh well, we've got Transcreativity which will have musicians, dancers and hypnotists. All this is fun and good, but the other modules are giving us a headache.

So tonight it'll be Reunion Dinner with the people I've seen everyday here for the past 40 days (approx.). I haven't felt the whole homesickness thing yet, though I think it might be time for me to feel a little of it considering that it's Chinese New Year and all. Okay! Since it's Chinese New Year's Eve, and the fact that I'm two-and-a-half hours behind Singapore time, I shall stay up much later than usual to ensure my parents get a long and healthy life. All I ask in return might be that Dad learns patience (so I can emulate him cause I'm beginning to 1. Lose hair, 2. have weird stomach upsets, 3. spill things during dinner and 4. give off kan cheong vibes), and Mom learns to chill and not worry about things that need to worrying about. By the way Mom, I've been trying to get you for the past few hours but you're not in the office, dad doesn't call me back and sis doesn't remember about my free incoming. So I can't reach you.

Right now the Indian students (I always feel a twinge of guilt whenever I write stuff like that, cause of all the racial harmony national education back home, in my head now "Indian" has connotations of race and not nationality - which is what I mean here, nationality, not race, Miss Jacobs should be eating her foot now, fancy calling me a rascist and believing that evil fucktard of a kid - I've been traumatized for life and approach matters of race with trepidation) are outside playing another game of cricket. We still don't understand how this game can evoke such emotion from the audience and people standing around, but I guess it comes with a certain level of having participated in the game and actually knowing the rules. But still.

Today Is MICA Day

2008-02-06T00:33:00.000+05:30

So today was MICA Day. Essentially it is the day that MICA was "born" into this world and so every year they celebrate the institution's birthday. The tradition here is to have a day's worth of celebrations, beginning with a Luncheon on the lawn, then a Teacher's-Day-like performance, and ends off with Sankalp which is like their Paparazzi.

The luncheon was pretty cool, cause I like lawn lunches and this one didn't really disappoint. There was a little confusion with the setting up of 3 stations though, 2 served Indian food and the 3rd had "Chinese" food. This means that you get 黄面 mixed with some sauce, or kway teow mixed with another kind of sauce. They call it chop suey here.

Then we had the afternoon performance which is the one time that the students get to make fun of their lecturers through doing impressions of them, and also the day the teachers dance and sing for the students. It was quite a riot seeing the school director and registrar (both serious looking wizened oldish-looking gentlemen) both dancing along to some Bollywood songs side-by-side the admin/technical staff.

Due to my lack of imagination and speed, we did not manage to get a photo of my face throughout the proceedings. Hence, this picture provided by South Park should give you a clue. And yes, this was the face I had on most of the afternoon as stranger and stranger things happened on stage. There was a solo dance act that mimed a movie song-and-dance sequence,
there was giving out of 5-year long-service awards, there was freestyle Hindi "poetry slam" of sorts (because I don't know what the hell the dude was going on about, but he'd recite a few lines, the students would cheer and then the 3 other male faculty - this dude's one of the technicians - would begin to dance with him in a celebratory fashion. Hence:

It should also be mentioned that the stage and lights and music was almost exactly like getai back home. I've got a video that should give one an inkling, but I'm lazy at the moment to load it up.

We played Ultimate Frisbee in the evening till it was too dark to see anything, then moved to play badminton on a fortuitous day when everyone had gone to see the plays. We finished up, showered then went for dinner, after which we decided to pop by the 4/4th play that was still going on.

And then I step in to a familiar sight of Harold Pinter's Mountain Language. It is a very short play, so we were out of there pretty quickly.

Day 38: So About Last Night...

2008-02-03T23:15:00.000+05:30

Heritage walk in the morning yesterday, photographs soon. It was pretty alright, I was a little too lazy to take off my shoes and move inside some of the temples, but I wasn't feeling learny yesterday.

We (The Bunch of Cynical Bastards) did the whole decrepit old people sitting outside (my room) again right before we headed to the party, and that's where I revealed to everyone the magic that is the "Deathstar Canteen" by Eddie Izzard, and also the "Superfriends" mash-up. Go watch both things on Youtube, I'm too lazy to link it right now.

Oh, it was also the screen of "PAT on the Back", which the Frenchies hadn't seen yet. We also spent the entirety of yesterday exercising, we had Badminton in our hall's courtyard, with a frisbee game going on across the makeshift badminton court - essentially meaning that one's head could be taken off with a flying frisbee whilst attempting to hit a shuttlecock, or that you might take someone's head off if they didn't just miss that play.

There was a pre-Party at Bertie's room, it was here that we spent the better part of the evening watching music videos recommended by Bertie and listening to his extensive lesson in music, whilst witnessing the magic that is Peer Pressure. And the coolness that is Solidarity In Numbers. Right after that we had the alumni meet's culmination at Chhota, then-converted into a dance-floor beneath the stars. There were laser lights and a DJ who occasionally played House and R&B, so those were the good parts. The Bhangra part of it I didn't enjoy so much, cultural differences and language barriers I suppose?

It is also amazing how a Residential Campus society functions, and the kinds of things one might be able to witness. I haven't seen half the things that are happening here, but I'll be sure to give you all the lowdown if I get a foot in. Or, I could just go my own touristy way. I don't know, we'll see.

Right now I'm going to work on the video a little bit more, maybe do my readings for tomorrow's class (maybe), do some reading of the book I'm supposed to review, wonder about the magnificence that is life, then go to bed.

Diarrhea, Or Something Like It.

2008-02-01T20:57:00.000+05:30

I don't know if there's something going seriously wrong with my digestive system, but I think I'm cool with it. As in, as long as it stands with the new argument I've formulated for myself in order to avoid risking going to the doctors here (an experience in itself I wish to never have). Here's my theory on why I've been needing to go to the loo at least once a day for the past week or so:

1. My body is not used to a vegetarian diet, and all this fibre going into me now is rushing to get out cause the system doesn't recognise it, or recognises it all too well as vegetables.

2. 21 years of eating meat for every meal and avoiding vegetables is finally taking its toll, and the body is taking the opportunity to PURGE.

3. The body got used to the veg diet when I first arrived, with the mind overworking to keep the body adaptable to the prospect of a daily-veg-diet, but I went to Delhi, had beef in every meal, enjoyed too much good food there and now it's revolting against the sight of MICA Mess Food.

4. The Beef I consumed is sacred in this country and anyone who eats it is cursed to spend a part of each day in the toilet enduring the fumes of bodily gases and melted "playdough" shit.

5. The Chocolate Cake of Upper Crust is just nonsense compared to the desserts had in Delhi, and so the body is revolting, or a combination of this and the good food in Delhi argument.

6. I ate something wrong that had worm eggs in it and now there's a worm residing in me which would explain my insatiable hunger and stomach aches. This seems rather plausible, but I've been observing my stools (which is what everyone does in the toilet but will never admit) and it doesn't seem to show any signs of dead worms.

I shall go to the doctors in about 5 more days if it doesn't clear up, or if the situation gets worse. Do not worry, I am well-aware of the state of affairs in my anal tract, and will take the necessary steps to safeguard my health. If anything else develops, I'll be sure to take a photo and describe in (all-too-graphic) detail what came about. Cool?

Now back to South Park and wondering about the Body and Technology and Cyberspace (learnt in Metaphors and Narratives class today).

Tomorrow there's the Alumni Meet which is when all the old students are invited back to MICA for 2 days, and alcohol will be available, a dance floor with a professional DJ will be constructed, and drunken debauchery will reigh supreme before our very eyes. Yes, we will be there, we will be watching everything and laughing our heads off - we've all heard stories of people sleeping with one another during this 2-day event. Woohoo. Wait in eager anticipation dear reader, and for the parents who actually read this blog, don't worry, your daughters are in safe hands.

Not mine of course, I'll send you pictures of whose. That's if I'm not preoccupied with the entertainment parading before me of course (but seriously, I'll watch out for them).

"Don't worry" has got to be the worst line in the history of Man.

Baraka, Putain 5:30 AM

2008-01-31T01:02:00.000+05:30

I have to wake up in about 4 hours because for one of the modules here there is a field trip. This morning was fraught with us wondering what to do for the post-March period, because there's this really relevant Creative Crafting course, but we're not sure if we'll be able to cope with it and not waste the opportunity to travel - which is, essentially what Exchange is all about.

The same guy in charge of it was the lecturing faculty for our Metaphors & Narratives class, and he showed us the "documentary" Baraka. I don't know how to classify this film exactly because it is a montage film that speaks volumes but deals with nothing specifically. One sees a pattern emerge after getting bored by the first 30 mins, then watch the themes develop a little, making sense and meaning of each image on your own, then doze off at about the 45 mins mark, jolt awake, listen to the now-exciting tempo portion with image depicting the perennial nature of War, stare intently at the scenes of genocide and atrocity, get restless and make comments to your sleeping neighbour, feel the sense of awe at the natural beauty of the world, wonder if this next scene brings the movie to a close, OH NO, it opens up again with a new scene of rock formations and drumbeats, it drags on, now the...

I wouldn't recommend watching this movie unless one has plenty of patience and/or are forced to watch it for class. The module coordinator herself fell asleep at one point, it was that draggy a film.

10,000 points for cinematography and thematic treatment. 0 because this idea of a 95-minute long montage movie is seriously meant only for the uber-cool-obscure-film-geek. Check it out if you ever find it. I don't have a copy with me. I'm too impatient a soul at the moment to even pretend that I could fully appreciate the film and claim some cooler-than-thou cult-following stature.

I've got to wake up at 5.30 to get ready to leave for some place 3.5 hours away from campus. This is for a module.

I always have epiphanies in the washroom/shower, but I always forget these truths once I leave. It's disconcerting.

Haircuts, Barbers and Dissonance

2008-01-29T01:01:00.000+05:30

Leigh and I decided to get our hair cut today, and we happily went to a place recommended by Marine. It's not the same place she went to, but she had the card of the place so Leigh and I decided to go for it. We made appointments for 2 at 2.

And we went. There were about 10 people at the counter, all of whom seemed to work in the salon. All eyes on us, everyone seemed shocked that two foreigners had stepped in. After a pause, one of the 10 ventured a query "Do you have an appointment?" Affirmative.

So we are led inside, and I take a seat. The hairstylist assigned to me is a dude with a potbelly and too-tight washed out formerly colourful t-shirt. He asks me in rudimentary English what kind of cut I'd like, so I venture my interest in the hair massage, seeing as how Leigh went straight for that service. He goes away and brings back a lady who translated their services: Hair Oil or Spa? Spa, please (don't want weird oils on my head).

I sit there patiently waiting for things to happen. The dude places his hands first on my shoulders. And then moves his palms inwards, his fingers encircling my neck. A beat. Then two. And they don't budge. He's looking at the front desk, distracted and nonchalant. I'm terribly uncomfortable but I'm a guest in this country, and maybe this is their custom... The hands are moving, omg where are they going!? What IS he doing fiddling with my shirt button... AAAHHHH, I'm going to get raped by a blond football-bookie barber in front of everyone in a unisex hair salon!!!

Oh, he's making way for the towel he just tucked into my shirt. Oh shit wait, how much is the hair spa going to cost... okay, I can't ask that, it's too cheap. But it should be alright lah, a haircut can't be that expensive... the max I suppose is Rs. 1,000 and that's about $40. I suppose it's still acceptable going by rates at home. Okay okay.

I get my hair washed "conditioner sir? yes please (is this extra cost)." in a porcelain bowl with an edge that cups my neck a little too hard. He drags my neck up after an towels me off, making me feel like a kid all over again, my head just a bobblehead he tosses around too loosely.

Back in the chair, he pays me no mind, just concerned with the other people in the salon, even as he mixes white gummy stuff, even as he lathers said gum onto my hair, a marinate of cold cream. Next thing I know, he's massaging my head, pushing the gum further into my scalp, mashing it into my follicles, salvaging the receding hairline (might be paranoia, but I think I'm seeing more scalp than hair on the corners).

Then he places his gummy palms onto my neck and massages. Then he takes his hands out of my collar and massages my back. Along the spine, with me half bent across my seat, wondering what kind of hair massage this is - I know I've got a hairy (relatively invisible) back - but how did he know?

After this he brings over that Martian Brain Irradiator found in all salons the world over, and proceeds to let my mayonnaise head steam. Leave to simmer after, remember to add the garnish. I sit there wondering if this experience is worth my head catching fire. How do women leave their heads in that thing?! I got used to it eventually, but by that time the guy comes back and pushes the MBI further down, encompassing more of my head and threatening to singe my ears off, I know I complain bitterly about the cold but cut me some slack dude. He removes it,

And then I get another rinse after the massage, he chops off my hair without even taking the time to look much at what he's cutting, instead paying more attention to the argument brewing between a client and another hairstylist. And then he asks me if I'd like my hair gelled, he gels it without so much as first drying my still-wet (from the post-massage rinse), just-cut hair, or dusting off the excess hair. Then he shows me the back with a large mirror and smiles. I look at him, then ask if I'm done. He smiles, then leans against the table and says I can wait for Leigh there.

All this happens within 30 minutes. Including the haircut. 3 minutes later (like the instant noodles I love so much) Leigh walks up to me stunned. We pay and walk out wondering what the hell we're doing here (I'm stretching it a little here, I have absolutely no idea what Leigh really thought, although I can say for a fact, because I spoke to her, that she had an equally -if not more- interesting time than I did).

Lunch was even funnier. Chicken soups and Mayocalypse Salads.

As Mentioned By There Are No Roti Pratas Here

2008-01-28T01:52:00.000+05:30

Nuria has managed to capture the exact essence of what I was feeling as I watched the Indian movie we're supposed to see as part of one of our modules.

The module is called Services Marketing and the title describes everything you need to know about it. It's about marketing services. Not tangible products, but intangible processes called services (I am reading the first chapter).

The lecturer wanted us to watch this film called "Everybody Says I'm Fine". Essentially (and I'm going to give all the spoilers now) it's about a guy who can read peoples' minds when he cuts their hair. How and why is he able to do this?

I have to qualify something first: this movie actually has pretty well-written dialogue, despite my many misgivings with the unbelievable plot devices. The lines are actually witty at many points, leaving me to wonder what went wrong with the rest of the film.

So ANYWAY.

1. This dude can read minds when he cuts hair.
2. He got this magical power from witnessing his rapping/rocker parents get electrocuted by the soundboard in a freak accident; he watched them die in complete silence because he was singing in the recording room.
3. He has uber-hot babes for assistants and tai-tais for clients, not to a mention billionaire tycoon who has a weird habit of thinking of going to the Bahamas constantly and there is a tai tai who's a cocaine addict who sells coke to young boys so she can fund her own habit (get out of here), who may or may not be his wife.
4. The love interest in the film is a feisty intelligent young thing whom the protagonist falls for after he is unable to read her thoughts whilst cutting her hair.
5. She comes back into his shop weeks later (I am assuming the time here), bringing with her a gang of beggars, makes his receptionist give these beggars money, then stands there waiting for him to invite her to his place.
6. She goes to his place, he suddenly decides to reveal his secret to her, she gets pissed that he tried to read her mind, then she leaves (this happens all of say 10 mins in his house)
7. In the next few parts, the dude helps his clients with their problems in a variety of ways.
8. The show is somewhat dramatic at this point, but still just comes across as a fantasy/mild drama film.
9. One night, the dude sees the girl standing in the rain outside his shop. She's decked out in skimpy clubbing gear, with small fairy wings attached, and is drenched to the bone. Their eyes meet, she walks up to his loft - cut to -
10. Shot of her back, she's removing her clothes. He comes up the stairs (at this point my mouth is agape in shock), sees her undressing, doesn't say a word, and begins to take off his clothes.
11. They meet, and without another word being exchanged, immediately begin to have sex.
12. She leaves but not before revealing that she's going to the BAHAMAS with her FATHER. Her dad comes into the shop on another day.
13. The main protagonist offers a bottle of malt whiskey to congratulate the tycoon on something. They drink the whiskey together, then proceed to the haircut.
14. The protagonist at this point has already pieced together that the tycoon has some weird thing going on with his daughter, and intends to do something nasty to her in the Bahamas.
15. The tycoon's thoughts are now of punishing his daughter in some BDSM manner. The protagonist moves to smash the tycoon's head into the table.
16. He then takes the body and the tycoon's car to a hill, and makes it look like a drunk driving accident.
17. The love interest discovers the crime, goes to the shop, her thoughts are suddenly non-diagetically shared with the protagonist (and audience), she's completely messed up in her head what with years of sexual abuse.
18. They hug and all.
19. He loses his powers the next day and is completely euphoric that he can no longer "hear". A happy ending ensues with a close-up of the TV screen and a cheesy music video playing.

Drinking Whiskey From a Porcelain Mug

2008-01-27T23:52:00.000+05:30

I'm shivering from the breakdown of whiskey in my system and from the cold because I've only got one pair of clothing on.

And I'm skyping Nuria because I'm bloody bored.

You Know, The Lesbian One.

2008-01-27T19:23:00.000+05:30

We spent the entire afternoon seated on the corridor outside my room, watching the sun go from left to right, snacking crazily, littering the floor and soaking up sun.

It began after breakfast with Nuria, when we decided to sit there and stone. Then Leigh joined in. And Marine came back from Goa and joined us too. So we sat there, and we talked.

It was nice, especially the part where it began to feel like I was at a home for the aged and I was placed there by some nurse making conversation with the ladies.

And also the part where I tagged the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack to our janitor, making it impossible for Nuria to look at him without having Stayin' Alive play on in her head.

It was a good afternoon indeed.

*Note: I've made changes to the site, you can check out some of the new (or old) travel blogs that my friends have started - so you don't have to be totally bored with me raving about India all the time.

**Also available: Erwin on Skype, add me at elixarkan@gmail.com

The City of Delhi (As photographed by me when I wasn't being lazy).

2008-01-26T00:39:00.000+05:30

Day One: Connaught Place

The photograph below is one of 3 photographs I took of Delhi's most famous shopping area Connaught Place. It's Delhi's Orchard Road, but somewhat larger in terms of land area. Connaught Place is uniquely shaped in concentric circles, with individual boutiques lining the faces of the blocks that make up the circular architecture.

The sports brands are all there, Nike, Reebok (surprisingly very big in India) and Adidas, with Adidas having opened its Originals' store just recently. And because CP is so big, each company has 2-3 stores in different blocks.

We arrived at the airport, got a pre-paid cab to Hotel BB Palace (which is trash), dropped our luggage, freshened up and immediately left for CP. We then walked around a little and made the mistake of settling for what seemed to be a good place for a celebratory lunch.

Zen restaurant is featured in The Lonely Planet Guide to India, and usually they're quite spot on about most eating places, but this place is a definite no-no. The supposed Chinese food is not even remotely close to being Chinese (I'm being a little harsh here, but when you charge this amount and masquerade as being authentically Chinese, well) and it was overpriced. We didn't mind so much paying a little extra, but the meal came in measly portions and tasted bad. So don't bother. Do note that I am saying this with the awareness that local flavour is incorporated into so much of the food here, but despite this the food was still a waste of money.

After that meal we spent the rest of the day walking around CP till late, getting good deals on sunglasses and if I recall, Fabindia products. Fab(ric)india sells handwoven clothes and cloths and textiles, it's a high-class bazaar shop.

This photo was taken outside Fabindia, while Leigh was in a shoe/clothes shop trying on stuff. A trio eyed me suspiciously as they walked past, then made a change in their direction to walk back, due to my paranoia about these things, I retreated immediately into the shop. And they disappeared.

CP's walkways are lined with book peddlers selling loads of knockoffs with a wide selection from Indian authors. There's a thing about Indian books and their bookstores - probably how Singapore would be as well had we such a vast population and good authors. I didn't get anything from these book peddlers because most of the stuff was fake or damaged. I'd rather pay for second-hand books (to me, they acquire a certain character when you search through an entire library and find a gem that's slightly worn but absolutely worth the cost).

Day Two: Agra Fort and the Tag Mahal

We awake super-early the next morning to prep for our 5-hour bus ride to Agra, ordering room service breakfast of odd puree-like scrambled eggs and toast. The coffee was good. We waited for the bus which was about 20 minutes late. As all things are in India.

During the trip there the bus made a stop for breakfast. We got off at a motel with an open-air dining area and I made a call to my dad who's in Chennai.

Me: Dad, Dad, can you hear me?
Dad: Yes son? Why?
Me: I'm in Delhi, I'm on my way to Agra to see the Tag Mahal.
Dad: Is that so? Who are you with?
Me: Just me and Leigh.
Dad: How are you going there?
Me: By bus.
Dad: Aiyoh, be careful ah son, is this bus old or new?
Me: It's new, I think.
Dad: Cause some of these old buses their brakes don't work, you better be careful. People always die.
Me: Uh, okay. Don't worry, this one the brakes work fine.
Dad: Okay, okay, mm, bye.
Me: Bye.

Don't you just love Singaporean father-son relationships? So. Leigh decides to order French Toast from the kitchen, and the guy taking our order seems capable of conversing in English, but he's insisting each time that the French toast is toast with an egg on the side, or wrapped around it or something, I think that he's capable of understanding what we're saying, because he's responding in alright English, and has the demeanour of the manager in-charge of the place. So Leigh goes on to ask him if the French toast is sweet like the way we have it in Singapore, and the dude nods his head in agreement that he can help her get it sweet. He assures us in simple English and we believe him.

If Leigh hasn't already told you the story (or uploaded the photo), the dish comes to us in the following manner: There is whitebread toast made into a triple-deck sandwich. In between the decks there is cucumber and tomato (two of my most favourite vegetables), and they're graciously lathered with pinkish jam. The egg comes on the side. She abandons the meal.

After a long long journey we reach the Agra Red Fort. I have no idea what it's really called, only because I've been the most horrid traveller and have not bothered in the least to find out the names of the historical buildings or commit any of their significance to memory. I don't know why, I suspect it's cause I'm lazy to make the effort to learn the stuff and be fascinated. Don't misunderstand, I am completely and utterly amazed at the stuff I manage to see here, but I'm just somewhat unfettered by the tedious perception that one is supposed to devour all these historical tidbits as a form of not wasting the experience. To me, being there and then and having seen what I've seen and thought what I'd thought in that moment is enough, I don't really need to be able to report to anyone that I've been here and there and I had this totally-cool epiphany about the ephemeral nature of the place and the surreal experience of standing on stones that are hundreds/thousands of years old. I mean I do get those sometimes, but the accurate reporting of place, deed and learnt facts is not what I'm here for.

I'm just here to throw myself into something entirely different and see what life brings me. And so we reach Agra Fort with the help of a Tour Guide who manages to convince everyone on board that broken English would still be dyingly acceptable as opposed to the incomprehensible grunting syllables he ventured. It was so bad that at one point we gave up trying to understand what he was trying to say, but the best part was when the other Indians tried asking him to speak in Hindi and he flatly refuses them in Ngrish.

This is just outside the gates leading into the Red Fort (I think).

This tree is outside the washroom area. The guide insisted that we keep off the grass. Workmen get it so much better than the tourists who have to pay premium entry ticket prices. Doesn't matter if you're a student in an Indian university.

In the distance you should be able to spot the Taj Mahal. This part of Red Fort is some sort of parliamentary meeting place/ harem, something.

There is a mosque built behind that gate. According to whatever I could scrap from the Tour Guide's Ngrish, it's still used as a place of prayer.

By the way, this place was built by the Mughals - which are Mongol-Turkish people who ruled over India during its Golden Age. Islam is probably from the Turkish side of the family. This would also explain to one why the Taj Mahal had Quran verses inscribed onto its gates, etc.

The walkway leading up to the interior of Red Fort. The place is massive, too bad we were being rushed by the guide in his Blitzkrieg 101 on the place. He wanted to show us "Taj Mahal in the moon is different from Taj Mahal in the sun, I will show you. Inside, I will show you." This was the most lucid thing he said the entire trip. But no one could comprehend how he was going to show us the Taj Mahal in the moonlight if we were leaving at around 7pm for the bus journey back. Albeit he repeated that same sentence (in different variations) several times in 20 minutes; thereby explaining how I could glean his intention, but still we were in the dark as to how he was going to perform his magic trick.

And it was revealed soon after. He brought us to a wholesaler of Taj Mahal "Real Marble" replicas. The place was dedicated to selling people these little versions of of the Taj that one could place a lamp beneath and light up. That's how the Taj looks like at night under moonlight. It's orange and glows from within. If you were looking at the fake Taj Mahal in the "moonlight", it'd sorely disappoint you because it's fake marble and doesn't have the same translucency that showcases the lamplight.

This is the Rs. 3 shuttle that takes you along the road leading from the carpark (for vehicles like our bus that emit harmful gases) to the Taj entrance.

We haggled and got ourselves a really entertaining guide. He had an entire script memorized and delivered by rote. How did we find out? The guy receives a phone call midway, excuses himself, then returns with "I'm sorry, where was I?"
"The Taj Mahal just got built."
"Oh yes..."
And he goes on to repeat the exact same line he was saying to me right before he picked up his phone call. In the exact same words. Something about the Queen asking the King to immortalise her though the construction of the wonder. He had an accent that made his enunciation and expressions particularly entertaining, like when he remarked to me
"His OWN son imprisoned him, his OWN son..." In reference to the Mughal emperor (?) who's own son imprisoned him in the building adjacent to the Taj.

The East Gate

Touristy shots as assisted by our favourite Taj guide.

Who decided that I wasn't taking good enough photos and proceeded to hog my camera for a good 5 shots from this angle.

Then moved me into position to take this shot.

Right before we abandoned him to go our own way for awhile. Then I managed to get this good shot in.

And another. The reflection in the water is a big thing. The fountains are also remarkable because they were not originally powered with electricity, but through some water-dynamo-like thing housed in another building.

That building over there is the guest house for the king's guests - they came from all over the world to pay homage to the queen's grave, or so I was told.

The now Infamous Twist.

This is where the King got placed under house arrest by his OWN son.

The Taj in sunset.

Precious stones were used to make up these floral designs on the passageway into the tomb. the guide gave a whole list of all the places around the world the stones were sent from. I cannot remember a single one now. But it is marvelous how far love will go.

The archway into the tomb. The wordings on the side are quotes from the Quran.

Opposite shot from the Taj.

This dude wanted Rs. 200 to bring us back in the opposite journey as the shuttle. We bargained for half because it was so short. Could have gotten it for less but we were rushing, we thought that we'd be the last ones to get back to the tour bus.

But we were the first. How stupid of us! They run on a different time scale here! It's always STATED TIME + 15 MINUTES.

The Room of Lesser Horrors at the Horror that is Hotel BB Palace. The Room of Greater Horrors was the one that faced the main road, had no access to the paid-for wireless Internet, and seemed to need calling for Hot Water to run through the taps.

We shifted rooms that same night we got back. We had a relatively good meal of Butter Chicken and naan. I think.

Day 3: Pahaganj aka Backpakers' Haven

This is the sight that greeted us when we came to Paharganj for breakfast. We wandered a little then decided to settle for Hotel Shelton's rooftop terrace restaurant. We were stumped a little by the sliding door elevator (but San Fran's experience served me well), but got up there unscathed. The sight of ang mohs armed with the same guidebook eating nice continental, delicious-looking brunches made us all the more ravenous.

SO we decided to move out of Hotel BB Palace after Leigh made enquiries and saw the state of the rooms. We also much preferred the atmosphere of the place. It's a fantastically alive place. Trawling the streets are all manner of travellers and tourists, from Koreans to bohemian ang mohs with young kids.

This is Leigh's face right after we decided to move out of BB Palace and into Hotel Shelton.

She wanted to put the sunglasses to good use, Rs. 150, 300 for 2, only at CP. If you can get it cheaper, don't tell me. She buys another one later on at the night market. I think she might have gotten it cheaper too.

The view from the first shop Leigh decides to shop at after our brunch. I had a grilled cheese steak sizzler. It was CRAZY GOOD after all that time in Ahmedabad, Chicken and Chocolate.

Day 4: The Lotus Temple, Khan Market and Tibetan Market

The following photos are not in order and should be viewed individually or taken as a whole only after the temporal order has been established on your own.

Chadni Chowk (?): The Tibetan Market

This was at Khan Market, which is my favourite place in Delhi because it reminds me a lot of Holland Village and because I like the things I can find there, namely, books, magazines, electronics and nice cafes. Not to mention cookies. And great food.

It should be mentioned though that the first shop on the inner stretch selling organic-body stuff should not be visited and razed to the ground. The salesgirl at the counter was f**king rude to Leigh and should be brought out to the back and shot.

Evening time at the Tibetan market. These lamps were very nice, but there's no where I can place it either back home or in my Silveroak room.

The billboards reminded me of America.

This is the Baha'i Lotus Temple. It is a temple that is open to all faiths for the worship of whatever they want.

The interior of the temple is astoundingly breath-taking. I was fascinated with how the rows and rows of chairs formed a semi-circle round a podium, but the architecture of the place draws one's vision immediately heavenward to the skylight. And the silence imposed on everyone before entering makes the experience all the more surreal. Time literally stops while you're inside.

But we had an auto waiting outside. 30 mins, he gave us.

Day 5: The Sundial

I can't remember the name of this structure, it's a super-large sundial in the city. It was a waste of money going to see it, because the structure from which one is supposed to tell the time from had locked gates. Not that being able to tell the time with your own shadow is terribly fascinating either, but we paid good money to come and see orange washed-out conrcete, the least we could do is fulfill the purpose of the place.

After we got back to Paharganj,
Leigh proceeded to begin her shopping spree. Beginning with this shop here where she got custom-made semi-precious jewellery for a steal. Her bargaining skills are unparalleled. Excepting of course, Romain.

This is Indian Colin Farrell.

That's Topher Grace from That 70s Show and In Good Company.

Whilst Leigh shopped at the store, I got a little restless and took a walk down Main Bazaar

Day 6: More Shopping In Paharganj (I want to chronicle our meals - best part of my days - but I was lazy and didn't bother with photographs, Leigh has them all).

I think that's it. It should be noted that we went out to Ploof (also in the LP Guide) which is situated in an area that bears a striking resemblance to Greenwood Avenue. Incidentally, Ploof is a seafood restaurant, much like Fisherman's Wharf. I missed home that night. Ploof was good, even though we both had Beer Battered Fish and Chips (no beer), and it was an upmarket high-class sorta place. Having Johnnie Walker with Coke rocked my world. Having a cab ordered for you was a nice way to end the evening as well.

We had the best meal at The Big Chill on day seven. It's located in Khan Market and serves a wide-range of food. I had the fusili with cheese and pepperoni. Totally rocked. Leigh had the pasta-dumpling-thingies which for the life of me I can't seem to recall at this moment. Argh. They were good too. We had 2 chocolate desserts after that.

On day four or five we had dinner at the Metropolis Restaurant. This is the Paharganj-equivalent of upclass restaurant, fantastic food there as well. Great, great service. We had bad creme-brulee, though the chocolate dessert more than made up for it.

Club India in Paharganj was recommended to us by one of Hotel Shelton's staff. He secretly brought me to a side of the roof to point it out to me, after discovering that Leigh and I were planning to go somewhere farther for Japanese food. Club India's japanese food is alright, but really, go farther. We wanted to try one of the 2 guide recommendations but didn't have the time.

Sam's Cafe is pretty good too. Although Szechuan-tasting potatoes credited as hash browns on the menu is not my idea of a good meal, the other things are decent.

I don't think I've got anymore to write down. This has taken me 3 days to bother. 2 for the uploading of photos.

Well.

I Am Now Burping To Myself In The Room

2008-01-24T19:51:00.001+05:30

The s*** is starting to solidify again. I apologise for the explicit description, but that's the highlight of my day.

The Bug

2008-01-23T23:47:00.001+05:30

I think I ate something wrong, the toilet cubicle is going to be off limits for awhile. And I think I might have dehydrated myself from all that s***ting.

Urgh, being sick is no fun, especially if you're lucid the entire time and only the rest of your body's breaking down.

I'm also burping out dinner. This is so wrong.

ugh.

Champs-Élysées Encore

2008-01-23T03:34:00.001+05:30

Camera recording + FCE = PAT video + Boredom = New Poster Design @ 3.37 am.

Out For Now.

Return of the Native

2008-01-22T02:32:00.001+05:30

I'm back in MICA after a very arduous trip back from the Ahmedabad Domestic Airport in which we change Autorickshaws 3 times in one night and pay more than what we could have settled for initially.

This afternoon's Delhi-ing in Khan Market was fantastic because The Big Chill was great and Cafe Turtle was nice. I also bought shoes, and a banned book.

I am thankful for the hot shower and clean bed. More tomorrow once I've survived class and discussions and what-not.

Zonked,
Erwin.

So I'm In Delhi Right

2008-01-18T21:39:00.000+05:30

And everyday's been a new experience.

I am happy to report though that Mac's in India tastes the same, with very slight differences, such as thicker, saltier fries and fresher looking chicken patty for the McChicken. No McNuggets here, no beef (obviously), and Apple Pie is some Pizza Veg Delight or what-not.

We have also moved out of horrid Hotel BB Palace with the router that works but no internet, hot water that you must call reception for, a male receptionist (everything is done by men here mostly, even womenswear) who is the most agreeable person you'll ever meet but has no idea what you're going on about, screaming pedestrains, human-sounding pigeons and inaccessible location.

And we've moved into the center of a bazaar. With plenty of bagpackers. So seeing ang mohs is actually a welcome sight. I am very glad to have been born in Singapore for several reasons, lessons learnt only after being here and seeing how life is like without chocolate and peanuts readily available for me any time of the day, and several other reasons, too many to recount for you this night.

I am in an Internet Cafe now beside Leigh who just laughed to herself whilst talking to someone on MSN. I have not accessed the Internet for about 3 days now, and it feels really really strange. I'm a bloody mess of a human being.

So we went to the Taj Mahal and Agra Fort, today we visited the Lotus Temple (Bahai Temple), and then headed to Khan Market and the Tibetan Market. Khan Market is like their version of a Holland V. I was very happy that I could walk without being bumped around so much and worrying for my wallet. And I've never been ever - wait, the ang moh dude just said his comp is "completely riddled with spyware" - fuck. I'm going to log off now and not use anything else.

Maybe a little bit of MSN.

Call me if you have to: +919727472837

Bye Bye,
Erwin Nah

I AM IN HELL (But Thank God For Leigh, According To Her).

2008-01-15T21:23:00.000+05:30

So for all of you who know that I'm in Delhi, I would like to take the chance to tell you that if you ever, EVER have the chance to stay in Delhi, and you so happen to go online and discover that there are nice looking budget hotels on Lonely Planet, please do yourself a BIG HUGE favour, and trust only in the travellers' testimonials, and not the actual rating given by the website.

Because we should have just paid good money for a decent hotel. We've just had the most infuriating time with the hotel staff, attempting to get them to understand that when their website (it is evident to me now that they outsourced this service) says FREE WIFI, this means that it should COVER the entire building block and not just the 3rd level of the building. Subsequently depriving those of the 1st level the chance to access the Internet which they paid for.

Also, photographs are deceiving. One should plan ahead and demand to see actual photos/ pay good money for an actual hotel/ or decide to couchsurf and not be surprised by the conditions.

And Indian DVD-Rs glitch on MacBooks.

On the bright side of things we've spent the entire afternoon/evening shopping at Connaught Place, which is essentially their Orchard Road but more crowded and with lots of stalls. One good thing about this place is also that there are loads more tourists and foreigners, so one doesn't feel so out of place. Plenty of Koreans around today. Saw several Korean Buddhist nuns. Lots of ang mohs also.

On the downside? We hastily went into this Chinese restaurant called Zen (opting for that instead of the Mac's next door), and we had a hoot. The meal cost us an exorbitant price for a terribly undelicious meal of rice and meat. It was the worst restaurant to have a celebratory lunch at.

Walked around till late, had Baskin Robbins for dinner. Now we're ordering supper I suppose. It's only 9.50 pm now and we're getting room service. I'm also pissed because my MacBook has some issue with DVD-Rs. Which means the DVDs I just bought aren't working. At least most of them.

ARGH.
Erwin

Enjoy. Don't Circulate (Too Much).

2008-01-15T03:48:00.000+05:30

Dasada: Discovering Yourself In Gujarat (why the putain* is the hostel blacking out constantly?).

2008-01-14T11:54:00.001+05:30

So these are the salt distillation/crystallization (I wasn't listening to the informal lesson) areas found somewhere in Gujarat. So salt comes from here.

More salt catchment areas (not really catching, but).

This is Bertrand ("Berton" with lots of tongue rolling and stuff), we call him Bertie because he knows lots of Asians can't pronounce his name. This dude is extremely well-travelled.

And he sometimes reminds me of Chris Martin. Oh, he's got an excellent music library and killer taste to boot. Fashionable as well.

This is what happens after the sea has receded and the ground is exposed to atmosphere over thousands (hundreds?) of years. It gets cracked and sometimes mushy.

The jeeps.

One jeep. And it's not even a JEEP brand vehicle. Import substitution again.

This is the Director of MICA, we call him Pat because it's his initials. Here he's taking a photograph of a bunch of people. He sports a fantastically well kept ponytail.

More jeeps. Comes now in open-top and people-on-top.

We were there to see Pink Flamingos, I'm too lazy to reload the proper picture, and anyway they were too far to be even remotely interesting to anyone without the binos and a zoom lens.

This is Marine (which I suspect is her surname, but I haven't asked), she keeps getting made fun of by the other French students because she's blonde.

And this is the hors de prix. The Wild Ass we travelled so far to see. Isn't it magnificent?

Look! They're in a line!

FANTASTIC STUFF MY GOODNESS I'VE NEVER SEEN ANYTHING LIKE THIS EVER!
THEY'RE WILD DONKEYS! WILD!

The director and his crew attempt to shoot a cup of coffee (part of the breakfast) in the sunlight because it's hella cool.

Another salt place. This time round they come in mountains and are packed into bags like this one.

This is a very cute puppy. Those are legs. It eats the legs. It got scared by us and ran into the packets of salt. After that it began to bark from inside because it was afraid. Cute little buggy. Those are legs of some hoofed animal. HOOFED. LARGER.

That is Nuria, she's walking coolly over. That's a salt mountain behind her.

This is a rundown building. I am writing this now because I am waiting for dinner to begin and it doesn't begin till 8.30 pm here.

This is the moment where Shaggy (student jumping) leapt off one of the salt mountains (I hesitate at the word mountain, but that's what it's called here) after much encouragement from the Director (seen below). Promises to catch Shaggy and a crash course in Jumping Off Salt Mounds and Landing On Your Feet Safely was given.

Suffice to say, he failed the course miserably - miserably because he landed on his spine and was in pain for the better half of the day. Don't know what happened to him after that. Last I saw he was walking around (drugged out on painkillers no less).

A video of the Jump is somewhere.

*According to Romain, I spelt it wrongly the first time as "poutain", this word by the way means fuck in French.

So We Went to Dasada

2008-01-13T20:39:00.000+05:30

Which is a resort-sorta place somewhere in landlocked Gujarat that provides tourists with the alternative side of this state: Wild Asses. And birds. I'm not speaking metaphorically either, we went to a remote part of this state (Ahmedabad is the city, Gujarat is the state) so that we could experience something different.

I wasn't too keen on going on this trip, which is actually a field trip for one of the courses they have here, but we were convinced by one of the admin staff here that it'd be a worthwhile experience. Also, it so happens that we'd be on campus over the free weekend without our French allies providing a much-needed buffer against well - let's just say it's similar to how Singapore uses America. We're true to our Nation-building classes.

Anyway. We went cause we didn't want to get bored over the weekend, and it'd be a good way to foster some relationships with the other students of our host university, not just our two student guides. And I did enjoy myself, I not only got to know the French students better and have loads of laughs with them, we also got to know (as I'd like to think) ourselves a little better. Okay, at least I did. Not to belittle the others' experience, I just shouldn't claim to speak for them. Anyway. I discovered that I'm a cynical bastard with a very bitter disposition towards life in general. Or at least I find too many things funny when I really shouldn't.

Essentially, what I am saying is that I enjoyed the trip because of the many moments that could happen, the formation of the semi-pseudo Bunch of Cynical Bastards (BCB - as coined by Romain) club, the discovery of a tossed half-empty can of Kingfisher beer (domestic Indian brand) and its subsequent hype (plus considered consumption of it) by a female student on the trip, the "subversive" activities that went on during the trip (The Leap of Faith and the Holy Communion), the Fast & the Furious racing between our rackety jeep drivers on unlighted roads involving driving against traffic and insane speeds, the Second Campfire and shooting stars seen twice, the wildly exciting safaris with wild (wild!) animals like birds and asses. Salt, lots and lots of salt. The collection of these experiences alongside the company with which these memories were made have allowed me to see the entire beauty of being able to enjoy the moment.

Not because there are wild asses (still cracks me up) roaming around far ahead of you,
Not because you get to see salt and have tea on what used to be the ocean floor,
Not because we had a fun campfire night that had thoroughly enjoyable performances,
Not because you get to wake up really early (after sleeping really late) to see bodies of water and the beautiful sunrise AND have breakfast on a vast expanse of plain,

But because everything was hella entertaining.

Cricket Outside My Window

2008-01-13T16:45:00.000+05:30

I have just returned from a very dusty and enlightening trip to a safari. Will blog more once I've taken a much-needed shower and maybe a chocolate cake run.

Coffee & Cigarettes,
Erwin

Who's Afraid of the Ahmedabad Wolf?

2008-01-10T22:10:00.001+05:30

The flowers reminded me of Home. I found out today what bougainvilleas look like. Heh.

There is something seriously wrong with my writing. Or my speech pattern, cause every time I type a sentence out on this blog, and begin to read what I just churned out, I am completely baffled. I wonder to myself how anyone can possibly understand what the hell I'm going on about, because reading my own drivel I can barely profess to understand my own words.

The sentence structure is essentially not reader-friendly. It's more like a blog with a secret code language meant only for me to understand.

ANYWAY. Today Leigh and I went out to Ahmedabad City on our own, without the Indian or French students to help haggle or orientate. We had decided to go to town today to get Leigh's pair of sneakers for the trip to Dasada. Dasada is a safari place somewhere here in Gujarat. We're going to have a 2-day course there with the school director PAT.

Due to several reasons, Kash and Nuria stayed back in MICA, the French students had their own programme (save money, went to town yesterday), and a current odd avoidance of the Indian student guides (one of them started to act weird after his moves on Nuria were rebuffed), it was just Leigh and I.

We were excited as hell, considering that this was the first time we'd be doing everything on our own, and from all the overprotectiveness of the student guides and the school admin, the entire experience of Going-to-Town has been infused with feelings of fear and trepidation. ANYWAY, we headed to the guardhouse, hailed an autorikshaw (how they spell it here, just like CAUSAL is casual in department stores and EXTRA ORDINARY Holy Qurans lie under lock and key in historical mosque/museum, they were additional prints, come on...) and embarked on our Wonderful Journey Into the Unknown.

CG Road Is Their Orchard Road Here (No One Can Tell Me What CG Stands For)

So we head to CG Road to see the shopping district of Ahmedabad. So far we've not been able to visit this area because we've only managed to go to Reliance Mart which is the standard closest supermarket for all your MICAn student life needs. We walk around dusty roads looking for a decent shop but find only local brands and overpriced shoes. Every time we exit a shop we have to scurry along the walkway because scooters weave into the way and there's no where to walk, so stressfully we plodded from one shop to another.

I spotted a Malaysia Airlines signage and exclaim in glee "Something from home! Or at least nearby." Leigh looked at me and gave a polite smile.

Walking some distance ahead, I spot the nicest sight in all of Ahmedabad. The Singapore Airlines trademark. And there and then we endeavored to visit the office once every few days just to have a semblance of home.

After walking awhile more we decided to give up and head for the real reason for our outing:

The Upper Crust Restaurant

This was Chicken Sausages that tasted like Venison from zhi-char stalls.

The Upper Crust Restaurant is the place where our campus MICAfe gets its chocolate delicacies from. The Upper Crust Restaurant serves continental-like food, with a very well-written and creative menu with dishes like "Chuck Norris Recommends" (kudos all the nerds out there) and some dish named after Jackie Chan. The only problem was that all the non-veg dishes were made of Chicken. It was chicken in this sauce, chicken cooked in this manner, chicken with potatoes, chicken with spaghetti, etc. But oh man! The sight of dishes that hailed the promise of a possibility of meat cooked in a different way from the stuff I get on campus made me euphoric.

(She's going to kill me for writing this) This is what I've got to spend my days with.

She didn't want to allow the happiness of Meat manifest itself. But I know better.

Food, Glorious Food! And The Ravenous Face.

Apparently I've been scaring Leigh a little with the amount I eat here in India, cause it seems like I'm always hungry and looking for the next meal. I was actually really stoned on the Auto on the way from CG Road, but once I took a look at the menu in Upper Crust I was smiling uncontrollably to myself. Leigh decided to capture my happiness.

Leigh's Chicken Burger with loads of onions and 2 fabulous chicken patties.

My Chicken Steak with Black Pepper Sauce called All Peppered Out or something.

WOOT! (Supposedly the word of 2007)

So after we sat there discussing the reality of Non-Time and what lies behind the veil of Reality, we decided to go next door to The Chocolate Room for desserts. This despite the fact that we had Sausages, Burgers, Fries and Steaks.

I didn't take any photos of the food we ordered at The Chocolate Room this time round, and I'm not sure if Leigh did, but here's an example of the kinds of stuff we ordered from a previous visit.

The Other Day After Law Garden We Headed to The Chocolate Room

This time round we ordered 2 Hot Chocolates in the form of the cuddle mug found at Max Brenner's, one Marshmallow pancake and one Truffle Special Sundae. The Sundae is special because they're new on the menu and also because it has NO ice-cream whatsoever. It's made entirely of cream, strawberries, bananas and a truffle cake in the center of it all. Great stuff there. And oh, it cost us both about SGD15. For the WHOLE meal.

After that we headed to the ISCON megamall where I bought a jacket (stupidly my inability to do math led me to mistake 40% discounts) and Leigh got a shirt, jacket and shoes. Not to mention a previous trip where she bought a pair of bright red track pants.

And then we bargained our way with the Auto driver(s) for a Rs. 90 ride back to school. The standard price was supposedly Rs. 80, but it was the late-night fare so I think we did fairly well for a first-time.

Joie de vivre,
Erwin

A Trip To Law Gardens And Beyond

2008-01-10T03:44:00.000+05:30

This is the famous Law Garden Market. Essentially it sells traditional Indian/Gujarati female clothing like scarves and what-have-yous. I'm so sorry I'm not the inquisitive traveller who seeks out every piece of detail to share with you, I'm more of the photographer who just snaps away whatever his eyes fancy.

This is the first thing I spot upon alighting the autorickshaw. A mini-ride in the middle of nowhere - okay nowhere for me at least. I didn't see any happy children madly running around trying to get their mothers to pay for a ride. It looks like it's a manual-powered construct.

Leigh got Amit to help her take a photo of the camel and her. I like photos like these, the ones where I capture people who are being captured by other cameras. Not so much the voyeuristic pleasure, but more the imagined grasp onto something that comes close to real emotion.

This kid was playing around the bazaar, he just twirled around a nearby lamp-post and that was enough for him. Shoeless, dusty and cute as a button.

This is the lady Leigh bought something from. Initially we walked away to see if the other shops might offer anything better. In the end Leigh really wanted that top she saw at this shop we walked back just to get it. The lady was really nice and accommodating. She thanked Leigh really sincerely - something about Leigh being her first customer of the evening or something. You might find a posed photo of her on Leigh's blog.

The Shopping Face

Vendors stroll along this stretch constantly, each one coming up to you and bugging you to buy their wares even if you try and ignore them. The beggars on the street also do the same thing, they stand behind you constantly speaking in a pathetic voice to try and get you to give them some money. More than one of them have their kids hovering around with them, to be used as leverage. This drum (I am guessing) dude didn't bother me.

This is Leigh asking me if that's a nice top.

This is just one of the random cart-shops you can find here at Law Garden, but my advice is not to bother with this area unless you really really really want that traditional female apparel. Otherwise there's nothing to be found here. Okay, I don't know, I didn't walk from one end to the other, I only did about half, and in that time I can only recall that I was sure all the shops I passed sold the same thing, just maybe sometimes the stall owner changed.

I need to sleep now. I keep sleeping later each night and I'm not even doing proper things like researching, revising or studying. And trust me, I need to study, this Integrated Marketing here is nothing like what we have in SCI. Here it's pure Marketing theories, SCI's one seems more geared to the advertising side of things.

Floundering,
Erwin

The Habit of Blogging

2008-01-08T14:03:00.000+05:30

The Kitchen Where Magic Happened Once
(Means there was ONE cooked meal)

These are the potatoes we bought for food. Which we never cooked and by the time of this photo still looks delectably available for cooking and consumption. This photo was taken 2 days ago.

This is my first attempt at washing my own underwear here. It was a phenomenal success which I am more than happy to report. It was embarrassing though, cause I hung them up without wringing them dry (I kinda am not used to this), and they were dripping all over the floor, and Leigh comes along to hang her stuff and she mentions it, and immediately I'm like: "Oh no, I'm just lazy to wring it... maybe I should ah..." It was so embarrassing.

As you might have read from my comrade Nuria's blog, that's Romain (pronounced by him as Ho-mar, but his compatriot Marine calls him Roma, so I don't know) the French exchange student who brought us to town the other day and opened our eyes to the International Language of Bargaining. Or more specifically, bargaining like an Indian. He showed me the shop with the SGD76 for 3 tailor-made shirts. He's hilarious when he's doing his impressions.

The Indian Kite festival of Makar Sankranti will happen on Monday, the 14th of January 2008. I have no idea what to expect, I have not googled it to learn more about it, I think I make a terrible world-traveller, I can't seem to find it in me to be keen on discovering someone else's culture with the hunger that others seem to have. I just go along with anything and if I learn something then it's all fine and good. I should be more proactive in seeking conversation with the people here to learn more.

What I love most about India? The Colours. I know everyone says that oh this place is nice, it's very colourful and what-not, and I never understood what's the fascination with colour, isn't colour just colour anywhere in the world? How can it be a reasonable remark to say that something is colourful? Isn't it just visuals you can get anywhere? But while taking photos at all the places I've been to since landing in India, I've come to learn the meaning of that statement. This is truly a colourful nation, the woman work the fields/construction sites in saris that are a palette of riot colours, the men sit on scooters of the brightest turquoise, or whatever colour, but everywhere you turn, you see something striking and yet naturally a part of the social landscape. It's a fantastical feeling to have your retinas constantly assailed by colour.

Silveroak Room 114 is HQ till June

This is Silveroak International Hostel on campus here at MICA. The exchange students live here, along with the Crafting Creative Communications' students - who are sorta like a different faculty of people here on MICA.

This is the interior of my room the one with the bags is The Sofa for people to sit on and for me to throw dirty clothes cause I'm lazy, the plastic bag contains the laundry.

The table with the computer is my workstation here, the other table is for papers and toiletries. The other bed is where I sleep. My windows overlook the cricket pitch, but I rarely open the windows now. Although I think I might do that more often soon.

This is how I hang the towel to dry in my room, that's the wardrobe, clothes on the top, underwear in the cupboards (why you need to know this I'll never know), socks in another drawer, and bags on the floor. Shoes are stored in the lowest drawer.

On the second evening here we discovered that there was a bell hung just above the door, and the inscriptions on the side seem to suggest that these are CHINESE bells. I have yet to check with the French students whether their rooms have been ethnically customised for them as well, or if this is a feature of all the rooms.

About 3 days ago we celebrated Melanie's 24th Birthday in her room and in typical MICA-style, with a bucket of cold water (no not ice from beer or anything alcoholic) and a creamy cake. There was music, there were drinks and there was good company.

Melanie (?) is one of the French exchange students. She was nice enough to invite us over, and we being Singaporean Chinese people just bunched up and stood in a corner politely waiting for the cake to be cut. Then we walked over to another hostel block to let them empty the bucket of water on her. On a bitterly cold night. We went back to her room, Bertrand (I have no idea how Bert-on is supposed to be spelt, so I'm making it up) brought over his laptop and speakers, and we had music in the room. He's into Daft Punk, RHCP and electro (their term, not ours).

Things to remember about that night:
1. Kash swigging from the bottle and thereafter getting a little tipsy (understatement)
2. Romain's ideas about getting me to date Leigh and vice versa
3. The French students' accounts of their perilous first 3 months

That's All For Now,
Erwin Nah

Woot! NOW I can go to sleep.

2008-01-07T02:41:00.000+05:30

Global Immersion Programme Ecetera

2008-01-05T02:21:00.000+05:30

I know I'm supposed to immerse myself in the culture and learn from it and all - and yes, I'm doing that in class and learning about the rich history and paradoxical social fabric of this wondrous nation, but something's beginning to gnaw at me, and that's the fact that the mess hall here seems to serve (by which I mean my Singaporean tastebuds might be wonky and not a testament against the cooks at this school) food that despite a variation of colours, taste exactly the same. By which I mean the curries and whatever (second part of why I'm apologising - yes, this is an apology of sorts - because I'm too lazy to remember the names of the foods and all) come in different colours, but have that slight spicy-tangy-savoury taste. They usually have little bits of unrecognizable vegetables swimming in them, and come in white, green or yellow. Sometimes it's runny like sauce, sometimes it's more like soup, and sometimes it's curdled.

- This part was written yesterday evening, the next part comes from today -

I know I'm supposed to learn from another culture, be tolerant and all cordial about things, which I am, I am in no way demeaning the cuisine of my host country/state/whatever, I am only reporting what I thought of yesterday evening after having tasted the same mush for two days. Having been brought up in a different culture, being from another country, having savoured foods of different cultures and countries, it is an inevitability that I would compare my experiences here with things that I've been through/would go through, back home in Singapore.

In today's lecture, Dr. Shuchi Kothari, a filmmaker from NZ guest-lecturing us on the Indian diaspora and diasporic identities, spoke at length about how one should not need to apologise for one's honest expression of one's experience of another culture, because it is not necessary for one to be polite and take the cautious route of speaking fallacies for the sake of appeasing one's host country's sensitivities.

However, I should take all measures to clarify that this does not mean I advocate senseless commentary. By this I mean that even if one is sanctioned to express one's heartfelt thoughts on a matter; that one should conceive to do this at every turn.

I have said silly things that I regret on several occasions, but each time I do so it is with great embarrassment that I learn a lesson from that situation. I do not make the same mistake twice. Why I have validated myself so stringently thus far is because what I am saying is that on some days I really hate the food in the mess hall. But because I am in a different country, attempting to describe the food I have been served (and by extension this would be taken as a representation of this state's cuisine) as unpalatable (at certain times) to me would be seen as an affront of some sort to the citizens' pride. However, were I from this country itself, I would find no issue with declaring the homogeneity of the gravy/curry vegetables I am being served everyday.

Like me hating the food I was getting in the Police Academy. I can say that the food there sucks, but stating the same thing here would be slightly rude and altogether inappropriate. One could say that I am being hypocritical. One could believe that a metaphorical narrative underscores the main text of this post. One could find this a repugnant entry.

Chicken and chocolate makes me happy.

About 2 Hours of Ping Pong Later...

2008-01-05T00:55:00.000+05:30

And I'm in my room drinking water and absolutely shagged, but still in need of some Chorta downtime with the others, two of whom are helping in some student-advertisement filming.

Mistakes and Nakedness (My Room Smells of Cigarettes)

2008-01-04T20:14:00.000+05:30

Join this new facebook group. Ignore the old one please, thanks.

Quick! While I Still Have Time To Be Bored Out of My Skull

2008-01-03T23:44:00.000+05:30

POST-WATCHING COMMENT: Apparently the computer was lagging, so this is more of a podcast than a vodcast. Well, at least it works eh? Okay, I'll have to decide based on this dismal showing whether to continue or not.

Future episodes: Chinese New Year in Ahmedabad

The WKWSCI Exchange Student Group (On Facebook)

2008-01-03T21:57:00.000+05:30

How about you create a group and call it ‘WKWSCI Exchange Students 08’? and we can invite all outbound and inbound students to join the group?

Miss Angeline Sim says. And it is done. Please join the group on facebook. Find it here.