Remember, Remember

Tags

Castlemount, friendships, GUKA, Harry Potter conference, memories, Scotland, UK, University of St. Andrews

Talking about the boy wizard. Day 2 of the conference. Photo from Abbey’s files.

This time last year, I presented a paper at the University of St. Andrews in Scotland for a conference called, “A Brand of Fictional Magic: Reading Harry Potter as Literature.” It was a wonderful gathering of scholars from all over the world tasked to talk about one thing: Harry Potter. How cool, right? We were even featured in the news, huzzah! Here’s the BBC report, and here’s the one from the Telegraph. Anyway, the whole shebang was  intellectually stimulating and I learned so much from my fellow presenters. There were many questions from the audience during my session and I think I was able to answer their questions convincingly, if not charmingly (ha, ha). I even participated in the culminating activity, a Round Table Q&A with Dr. James Thomas of Pepperdine University, Dr. Jessica Tiffin from University of Cape Town, and Mr. Hogwarts Professor himself, Mr. John Granger. I was just very honored to have been part of that activity and got to share my thoughts about everything Harry.

A very casual yet lively Q&A. From the files of Giselle.

In all, Abbey, Giselle and I had a very pleasant time at St. Andrews. The university town is so old you could feel its proverbial bones straining against the cold, harsh wind and rain. Good thing we stayed at this fabulous B&B called Castlemount, and our hosts Jerry and Linda made sure every minute of our stay was just memorable.

The Three Witches in Scotland. We’re home!!! *cue: double, double, toil and trouble. . .

So many things happened in Scotland; so many memories were made. I can’t even begin to put everything into words, a year after the fact. The conference was just the icing on the cake (even though, yes, it was supposed to be the highlight of my entire trip; it was a business trip after all, hey! Check my UK VISA papers!).  I mean, sure, I’ve attended other HP conferences before. I’m an old hat when it comes to presenting papers. But last year was different. It was. . . .magical. And I am just grateful that I was able to go there and do so many wonderful things with two of my super friends. You should know they were not even supposed to attend the conference. But they did! They went and joined and participated (even paid the registration fee, natch!) and gave me moral support. How cool are they? Answer: VERY COOL. And now that I’ve had the time to think back and recall quite haphazardly (intentionally haphazardly; I don’t want to get lost in my memories) those days in St. Andrews, I can’t help but get teary-eyed all over again. I truly have the most wonderful friends in the universe.

Truly, you should be envious of me *wicked evil grin*

On being single, turning 40, and possibly having babies

Tags

40, babies, IVF, singleness

Before I go any further, I just want to say that I’m NOT turning 40 yet. I still have four years to go but since I’m a bit of a control freak, I’m thinking about it as early as now.

As you probably already know, I tend to jump from one train of thought to another without rhyme or reason. Lately, I’ve been thinking about why I’m still single. For one thing, I’m not looking but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be found, if you know what I mean. Have you ever heard any of your single friends say they’re single “by choice”? Sometimes I feel like that’s a load of crap. Okay, maybe if your friend is pretty and really hot, then that’s probably true. It’s not true for me. I am not single by choice. The cold, hard truth is, I’m not attractive to the opposite sex. I don’t have boys lining up at my front door or stumbling over themselves asking for my number. Sure, I have single guy friends but that’s all they are. However, I’m fine with that. I don’t see that as something to be insecure about. I have made myself a comfy little corner in every guy’s Friend Zone. So be it. And please don’t get any ideas about “setting me up” because that’s the last thing I want.

That being said, I hardly think that’s a reason to let myself go. I’ve embarked on an epic journey of self-betterment. Is there even such a term?! Okay, let’s just put it this way, I’m upping my market value for no other reason than the fact that I can. I already know I’m smart and talented and kind. I have a good heart, otherwise, I wouldn’t have so many friends. Some people think I’m pretty but I am essentially too fat to be considered the whole package. There. I said it, so Universe, help me out here!

~*~*~*~*~

Last night, as I was driving back to Sydney, I thought about all the things I’ve yet to do before I turn 40. I’ve already decided that I’d skydive on my 40th birthday and just go and travel, travel, travel when the time and my financial situation allows me to. And again, my mind wandered off and this little voice in my head said, ”What have I accomplished so far? Lemme see…Become a scientist. Check. Had a boyfriend or two. Check. Suicide. Check. Moved to a different country. Check. Traveled a bit. Check. What next?”

~*~*~*~*~

Over a few margaritas – and a tequila shot here and there – I had blurted out to a few friends that I didn’t want to get married. At the time I said it, I felt that it was my truth.  But is it really? My true calling is to be a Stepford Wife. For all you feminists out there, don’t worry. I hardly think it will ever happen.

I mulled over those thoughts of marriage and kids and I regurgitated them this past week until I could take it no more. And then an “Aha!” moment! I want to have a baby through IVF by the time I’m 40. Yes, too old, I know, but I’m not ready now. I also thought of adopting because there are so many children out there who need the love of a parent and I am more than willing to become one. At the same time, I also want to experience what it feels like to carry life in my womb. I can also do both. I shared this with my friend, Beatrice, and she said that it might be a good idea to freeze my eggs now while I’m younger. Good point.

Before I started writing this blog, I knew I had to tell my mom first. I didn’t want her to read my big plans just on my blog. I wanted her to know before the rest of the world found out. Her thoughts surprised me, to be honest. I thought I would be met with real opposition. This is the woman who said to me last January that she didn’t want any grandchildren. We were at the airport and there was a kid throwing a tantrum. Oh, you should’ve seen her face. She said that while glaring at me. It was hilarious!

When I told her about my baby plans, she said that from a purely practical perspective, adoption seems more viable than IVF. She said that it would be hard to fall pregnant as a single woman with a career. Of course, she comes from a place of authority on this. I know it is hard work, seeing what she went through. And at the same time, it’s precisely because I know (and was part of) her experience that I know that I can do it too, should I decide to pursue this path.

Her best advice: Pray about it. God will tell you what do to.

Amen.

~*~*~*~*~

It seems like I’ve gone off-tangent with my post seeing as we, The Fates, are celebrating the first anniversary of our Great UK Adventure. I just felt I needed to off-load these thoughts before I can go back to photos or entries about our adventures. Believe you me, there are still more photos to upload and stories to share. Hang tight, I’ll get there.

EDITED TO ADD: Here’s the thing. The reason I’m not too worried about growing old alone is because I think I have some friends that I can grow old with. I will build that retirement mansion, I tell you.

The 10th of May

Tags

friendship, harry potter, memories, UK, Warner Brothers Studio Tour

May 10 used to be an uneventful, nondescript date. That is, until May 10 of 2012.

*click* for memories.

Though I am still on a reminiscing mood, I am not one to waste words. So I figured instead of composing a new blog entry to commemorate this date, it’s better to just review a couple of blog posts Giselle and I wrote in honor of May 10, 2012.

Written by Giselle four days after the fact:  The Secrets Have Been Revealed.

Penned by yours truly a month after the fact: Remembering Hogwarts.

Onboard the Knight Bus. I miss the Puff girls.

1 year since the GUKA!

Tags

Doha International Airport, friendship, memories, Qatar Airways, travel, UK

That’s the Great UK Adventure to you. To celebrate it, how about a little reminiscing?

We’re okay to go! We’re okay to go!

The day Abbey and I left for London was actually May 7, and I call it Day 0, for the simple reason that all that happened that day was the flight to London via Qatar Airways. Day 1 was really May 8, our arrival in London, but nothing much also happened that day since, aside from getting lost looking for Carlton Hotel and eating lunch at Burger King upon landing, all we really did was wait for Giselle to arrive at King’s Cross station. Day 2 was May 9, 2012, and that’s exactly a year from now (well, minus a few hours since we are 7 hours ahead and we really didn’t start our day until around 8 am roundabout).

Anyway, as I was looking through my files, I saw a document which I apparently wrote at Doha International Airport during our layover before heading for London. I never got to publish it as a blog entry for some reason, and the thing is abruptly incomplete, but heck, I think it’s as good as any to serve today’s needs to remember the day that was.

Waiting at Doha International Airport, freshly powdered and all.

12 mn, Doha time: Abbey and I are currently at Doha International Airport for our 3 hour layover before our 8 hour flight for Heathrow. Nice, DIA, very nice. Free wi-fi too! Very clean and passenger-friendly airport, I must say.

The 9 hour journey from Manila to Doha was uneventful (not that I expected anything unusual to happen, no). The meals were good (I had chicken adobo for dinner. Abbey had cream dory. Then for the hot meals I had braised beef, ube cake, the usual bread and butter combo, fruits and complimentary drinks), and the starter snacks were unnecessary, at least for me (they gave us almonds after take-off).

*brief intermission–somebody from the airport asked Abbey and I to write our feedback about our flight experience with Qatar Airways. There’s a raffle of some sort for two free round trip long-haul tickets. Well that’s very nice too! I told her I’m actually blogging about the experience right now, hahaha. I just need to send my feedback to http://www.AirSatisfaction.com and then we’ll see if the Fates are with me on this draw.

The cabin crew of flight QR 647 was very attentive to our needs as well. I never had to ask for anything extra since the drinks and the meals were right when I wanted them.

How about the in-flight entertainment? Well we had a good choice of films, so hurrah! Abbey and I watched the Woman in Black since we’ve never seen it before (we weren’t scared at all), and Mission: Impossible-Ghost Protocol. Abbey hasn’t seen it and I suggested we watch it together. Loved it the first time, loved it this 2nd time (we both practically jumped out of our seats during Ethan Hunt’s building climbing scare). I also had the chance to catch up on season 2 of Blue Bloods. As for music, they’ve got everything. From AC-DC to Yo-Yo Ma. From Adele to Mozart. I also listened to some classical music to help me catch some zzzzzs. Not very successful, though, since I actually enjoyed listening to Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, Beethoven’s 9th, Mozart’s Piano Sonata No. 11 in K 331, some songs from our current pop artists I threw in the mix, plus a few Queen classics (Somebody to Love, anybody?), The Clash’s London Calling (just because), and finished it off with the Beatles’ Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da. Now my LSS is all about Desmond and Molly and their kids. Fabulous!

Thanks to the free wi-fi, waiting for the continuation of our journey isn’t that bad at all, no sir. The seats are comfy (not those awful, hard, metallic seats, thank heavens), the temperature is quite cool, and the WCs are, well, comfortable (as they should be).

And that was that. Told you it ends quite abruptly. I think the 3 hour layover was not enough for me to blog, and go around the place looking for the ladies’, and eat my snacks, and chat with Abbey, and people-watch, of course.

And then, after the 8 hour flight to London, we’ve arrived!

Doha to London is 3236.85 miles in all.

Upon landing, Abbey and I got lost looking for our B&B (hilariously, now that I have the benefit of hindsight for Carlton Hotel  was just literally, a stone’s throw away from King’s Cross station where we got off straight from Heathrow airport). But all’s well that ends well.

Bright smiles to complement the sunny (and super cool!) weather in front of Carlton Hotel. Photo courtesy of Abbey.

And after a few hours of waiting, Giselle finally is with us!

The Charmed Ones are back together. Photo courtesy of Giselle.

First full day in London, that’s May 9, 2012 was jam-packed. And when I say jam-packed, I mean absolutely exhausting. We had an early breakfast at our B&B, and it was your typical English buffet breakfast: free-flowing everything! Toast, jam, coffee, ham, tomatoes, eggs, sausages, and beans.

Post-breakfast smiles. We had no idea as to how the day would turn out.

And then, the day really started.

In the middle of the Great Court inside the British Museum.

And we saw the Fates! Well no, not really.

Hestia, Dione and Aphrodite take the backseat in favor of three Pinay goddesses.

After many hours of walking and more walking inside the cavernous museum, we had a late lunch, of course.

Looking for a place to eat. Photo courtesy of Abbey.

Pinays eating Italian in England. Photo from the files of Abbey.

Frist day fish and chips. Photo courtesy of Abbey.

And then we’re off again!

Wind-blown and soaking wet at St. Paul’s Cathedral. Photo by Giselle.

Crossing the Millenium Bridge. Photo from Abbey’s files.

Guess where we are and what we’re looking at? Hint: We’re looking at the month-long schedule of performances at. . .

. . . Shakespeare’s Globe! Photo from Abbey’s files.

In the middle of the throng waiting for Johnny Depp at the London premiere of Dark Shadows at Leicester Square. Photo by Giselle.

At Piccadilly Circus trying to score three el cheapo West End tickets. Photo by Abbey.

At the Lyceum Theatre for The Lion King. Photo by Giselle.

Waiting for Simba.

And that’s that. I told you it was a jam-packed day, and it ended around 11 pm. We weren’t even able to grab a decent dinner, egads! It was a wonder we survived that grueling first day.

But as they always say, it was just the beginning.  More in the days to come. . . .

Workshop, Playshop

Tags

food, pampering, Pan Pacific Hotel, Vikings

What was supposed to be a day of work, work, and more work turned out to be fun, fun, and loads more of fun with colleagues. That’s not to say that no work was accomplished, oh no. We worked our asses off, indeed. We brainstormed, we picked each other’s braincells, we reported to the whole group, we out-talked ourselves, and we brainstormed some more. That’s always the deal when you say goodbye to the outgoing school year and  try to welcome (albeit grudgingly) the incoming one.

Anyway, as I’ve been suffering from insomnia for the past few months or so, and the night before the meeting was not any different from the many nights before, I came to the workshop with my brain not exactly in tiptop shape. I was in my usual zombie mode, and it persisted all throughout the day. I was, in the local parlance, lutang. Most of the time I would find myself wandering off, imagining meadows and lakes, and blue birds chirping, and squirrels and deer and other forest animals frolicking about, and hills that are alive with the sound of music (Disney meets Maria, yes).

I missed my dear old colleague and close friend, the one I always refer to as the Muggle Professor, that day. He took an early retirement you see and so, there I was, feeling all alone amidst all the literati in the rom. I missed exchanging notes with him (something we always do everytime we’re bored), and whispering stupid and not so stupid remarks, and making fun of something or someone, or just having a friend sit next you, you know what I mean? I miss him terribly. I think it will take me a long while to adjust to a university life without him around.

But that was the workshop. Let’s now talk about the play that came after. It’s more fun, I promise.

While I did gravely miss my Muggle Prof friend, I missed him all the more in the after-work playtime. The entire department had dinner at Vikings, and oh, all that glorious food (Muggle Prof would have loved all that fresh seafood)! I had no gall to take photos of all the food I ate, save for what I had for dessert (because it’s too beautiful to eat, I swear).

Yummmeh! My assortment of sweets to die for. Flan and panacotta and cake and . . .can you see the gold shimmer on top of that slice of cake??

It was a two hour buffet dinner and we all had our fill. Thank heavens for the oolong tea to equalize the very sinful dinner.

Afterwards the whole team trooped to Pan Pacific Hotel where we would stay for the night.  Wonderfully surprising was my Chair and the secretary upgraded my room (I was supposed to share a room with another colleague). And not just any single occupancy room, oh no. It was one of those business class suites. Lots of space, lots of fantastic amenities, lots of things I never even imagined I would need for a one night stay.  The Chair told me that for my 17 odd years of service to the school, a room upgrade was the least she could do, hahaha.  :)

If ambience could kill. . . .

The work area even had all sorts of sockets and outlets for all your gadgets.

A Pillow Menu right by the side table. I swear I wanted to do cartwheels when I saw this. I mean, seriously? A menu? Of pillows? Heaven for a pillow connoisseur like me.

My own bathroom. I swear it’s large enough to be somebody’s bedroom.

 

My own little telly as I took a luxurious bath. I experimented with the various bath salts they provided for me.

My feet over the “window” in between the bedroom and the bathroom. How. . . curious.

They even gave me apples, courtesy of my friendly butler.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With all that stuff, you’d think I’d have a good night’s sleep, right? Well, no. I kept tossing and turning and tossing and turning *rinse, lather, repeat* until the alarm clock told me it’s already 430 am. And then I kept on tossing and turning and tossing. . . I guess it was already 5 am when I finally had some not-so-decent shut eye. Only to be woken up at 8 am for the scheduled breakfast with colleagues, of course.  Ho-hummmm. . . .

After another buffet breakfast courtesy of the hotel, some of us went to the nearest mall to do some shopping (for the curious ones, I bought a Jimmy Choo fragrance. Lancome’s Miracle was not available, boo!) and then we had a late lunch over at Arya’s where I had Baba Ghannuj and Turkish Coffee.

Starbucks has nothing on their Turkish Coffee. Taob na taob.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So there. That’s what I’ve been up to these past few days. A good dose of work and play. I work hard, sure. But nobody can accuse me of not loving myself enough. As the late great Ms. Houston once said, “learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all.”

Until next update, friends! I hope you are all enjoying whatever it is you’re doing. If not, then what are you waiting for?

 

Hey there!

Tags

insomnia, sleeping

Yes, I’m still alive! We (the triumvirate Puff owners of this blog) are still alive! We just happen to find our separate selves swimming in a vat of busy-ness.  Abbey’s chillin’ with Big Foot somewhere up North, preparing her kids’ baon, and adjusting to her new job. And probably still finding joy in cleaning her bathroom and running outdoors, most certainly not within the same hour.

Gissy, I imagine, is buried underneath a lot of soil. Or maybe mud. Or maybe rocks. Or maybe magma!  She’s probably the Magnificent Magma Mamah by now, with breathtaking superpowers to boot.  She had a car accident last week and I’m just glad she got out of it unscathed. Other than that, how’s the new house coming along, Magnificent Magma Mamah? Settled in quite nicely, I hope.

As for me, well, I don’t know what to say. School’s finally out. That means back to writing, yes. But don’t worry. I won’t spoil your minute by telling you about my writing woes. I myself have had enough of that. Enough of woes, I mean, not writing. 

I’m still missing Mr. Sandman. Haven’t slept properly for the past few weeks and it’s getting obvious and is now taking its toll, what with the dark circles under my eyes and my now gray-ish (I think) complexion.  The thing is, while I do want to catch those elusive zzzzzs, part of me also doesn’t want to. I don’t know. Like part of me thinks that sleeping is just a waste of time (which is not true, of course. Sleeping is essential to one’s good health, I know), and that by sleeping I’m missing out on something. Funny thing is, it’s not like I’m doing anything significant when I’m not sleeping. It’s not like I’m out saving the world or partying ’til the break of dawn, or writing the next great novel. I’m just there, on my bed, staring at walls. Well, I don’t stare at walls all the time. Just some of the time. Other times I stare at the TV screen (whether on or off). Or stare at nothing in particular. But the staring part is essential. I’ve gotten so used to it I think I’ve become a master of it. Yes. Call me Frankie, the Master of the Art of Staring. 

You see the moment I do try to sleep, it doesn’t come. It’s not like I resist it, no. It’s also not like I force it, not even. It’s just that. . . I just lay there, tossing and turning, trying to wait for that moment when everything would just float away and all that is left is you with your willing soul. But nothing comes. And then I realize it’s 3 am and the pressure to sleep increases a hundredfold. 

Anyway, it’s almost 2 am. Time for me to do my nightly ritual, you know, the ritual of tossing and turning and wishing and hoping that this time, sleep would come effortlessly. 

Wish me luck.

Fear

Tags

fears, musings

So there I was, trying very hard to lull myself into sleep (not sure if thinking about Daniel Day-Lewis was helping, though) when without warning, an old pal came back, back from the deepest recesses of my brain.

This old “pal” is something I’ve always had, one that has always existed in my consciousness as far back as I can remember. The thing is, this old “pal” has, for the longest time, taken a long vacation from my being, practically allowing me to forget that it has even existed.

You know what this “pal” represents to me?  Yep, the title says it all.  Fear. Not of something in particular. I mean, I do have a couple of fears, like any human being, yes. There’s that metaphysical fear of death (not mine, but others’), a concept that can paralyze me for hours, days, even months, and no, I’m not being hyperbolic. I have seen a paralyzed Frankie many times before and it’s horrible. Horrible and ugly and just all around nasty. There’s also that fear of failure in any endeavor that I may be inclined to pursue, and it can be equally awful as well. Perhaps my current dissertation status (the comeback kid is finally here, indeed) is opening up my own version of Pandora’s box, hence the return of one very old, very concrete fear which, I have, for lack of a better word, now come to refer to as “pal.”

This “pal”, okay don’t laugh for I’m being very serious, is huge tires.

Tires?

Yes. Huge, monster truck tires. Minus the truck.

Am I actually saying that I am afraid of huge tires?

No, no.  Let me put it in context the best way I can.

It’s not just tires. It’s also needles.

Again, am I actually saying that I am afraid of needles?

No, no. Not at all. I have no problem with needles. I’ve never had any problem whatsoever with my sewing kit nor my annual physical exam that would, of course, always involve needles.

Well, there’s just this one needle.  One that is there in my brain.

Imagine for me if you will, the very image of a needle being crushed by huge, monster truck tires. That, for some reason or other, scares the living daylights out of me.

It is an image I have always carried around in my head, in my very being since I was small (think 7 or 8 years old). I never told anyone about it for it sounds so silly. And I never really had any reason to since I’ve always had a handle on my fears, superficially at least. The thing is, every time this image pops into my head, I always have this weird sensation on my chest, like the very air out of my lungs is being sucked out. Like those tires were actually on top of me, crushing me. Not to death, but to oblivion. I don’t know how the needle figures in the entire thing, but for some reason I think of a needle every time those tires begin to tread on me. It’s as if I am the very needle that I also conjure up in my mind.

Let me make myself clear. It’s not a bad dream, it’s not a nightmare.  It’s an actual image that’s just there, somewhere in my consciousness; one that finds the need to pop in and out without my permission. Five seconds, that’s all it takes and then, poof. It’s gone.  But the memory, the sensation of being crushed, and the fear. . . remain.

I don’t know. It’s all so very confusing. It’s always been a mystery to me. It’s been ages since I last had it, this sensation of being crushed and mangled and suffocated.

But as I lay there on my bed, trying so very hard to catch the elusive dream (twofold, of course: dream of a sleep and dream of a certain Daniel), the needle and the huge tires came rushing back—-without pretense, without warning, and without context.

So here I am, telling you all about it.  I guess it’s high time for me to figure out what this thing signifies.

Do I really want to? Do I have to?

Or maybe I can just, like in the olden days, shrug it off and pretend there was nothing. No needle, no tires.

No nothing.

There are no small jobs

Tags

coal, driving, field work, geology, lab work, sydney, work, work ethic

…only small salaries.

I said this to my workmate, Beck, on our first night on the 2:00 PM to 10:00 PM roster at the lab. And I really believe this. See, it doesn’t matter what I’m doing – it could be logging core or writing proposals or grinding coal samples, I do a task to the best of my abilities. That has always been my work ethic and I’ve never felt any job was beneath me. Also, it’s a pride thing. If my name is going to appear on any task, it has to be very good. Yeah, I’m competitive.

I took a break from all the can reads to take a selfie. This photo from someone who doesn’t like selfies. LOL.

Some people, usually those with university degrees, think that if a task is menial, it is an insult to their intelligence to do it. People like that are not team players. The way I see it is if you can’t be trusted to accomplish the little stuff, you have no right to be given responsibility for the big ones. I didn’t say responsibility for the important stuff, I said big stuff because ALL jobs are important.

I survived one week in the lab!

So this week, I got a chance to work in our laboratory. This is where all the gas canisters are read and where all the coal proximate analyses are prepared and completed. I’ll be with the company for three years in May and this has been the first time ever that I’ve been called into the lab! That is an achievement because usually, people who have “nothing to do” [translated as: no drilling, and therefore on standby], are called in to the lab to help out the lab team. I must admit that I’ve kind of feared being called in. Stories of how people are bored at what they do in the lab day-in and day-out and how you don’t get paid as much when you work in the lab as opposed to being in the field really put me off. But after having spent a week there, all those fears are gone. In fact, I enjoyed it so much that I probably wouldn’t mind another week there if only the pay was the same rate as if I were in the field.

I learned new things that can be ticked off my competencies checklist and I got to interact with workmates that I don’t normally get to talk to because I’m never in the office. I got down and dirty and was covered in coal most days but it was fun because it was something different. Never mind that I had to drive two hours to get to work even if it meant that at the end of my shift, I’d have to do the same two-hour trip to get me home to Sydney by midnight.

Next week, I’m back to my work site and it’s all well and good but at least, the next time I’m on standby, I won’t hesitate to put my hand up to work in the lab.

Welcome to my office!

Happy weekend, everyone!

And Paris said, “I love you too.”

Tags

Amelie, Arc de Triomphe, arts, Basilica Sacre Couer, Dalida, Eiffel Tower, Eurostar, Gare du Nord, Jardin de Tuileries, Louvre, Marcel Ayme, Montmartre, Notre Dame, Paris, photography, seine

I liked Paris and I wish I had stayed longer but the three days I spent there was enough for me to take a heap of photos and to make a few blog entries as well. Do you remember my “I Louvre you” entry? Cheesy, I know, but it made you giggle, didn’t it? I blogged more than I shared photos so hopefully this entry makes up for it.

Gare du Nord.

After my trip to Cambridge, I took the train back to London and from St. Pancras, I boarded another train that would take me to Gare du Nord in Paris. I arrived at my destination at 7:30PM and was feeling a bit hungry so I bought a muffin and a Coke before walking around to find the taxi rank. Just my luck, the driver was cute and he spoke English! In a few minutes, I was at Ninang Lek’s doorstep on Rue Gabrielle, Montmartre. I don’t remember the last time I saw Ninang Lek but I’m pretty sure I was still in primary school. We had some catching up to do over dinner. Then the following day we walked around Montmartre in the morning and I ventured out into the city in the afternoon. But I’ve told you all about that. I saw the Basilica Sacre Couer. I saw a bust of Dalida. I saw a sculpture of Marcel Aymé’s famous work, “The Walker Through Walls”. I went around Pablo Picasso’s old stomping ground when he lived in Montmartre. I had a private Amelie tour, thanks to my aunt. I saw other familiar places from a few movies too. And of course, I saw the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame. I went to the Louvre. I walked across the Jardin des Tuileries and strolled along the Seine.

Lovely city. I pretty much just walked around and took photos of streets and buildings and sculptures that interested me. Too bad it was drizzling when I was there. I bet it’s even prettier when the sun’s out. I’ll be back, don’t you worry.

Click this sentence to see my Paris photos!

Cornwall Part 2

Tags

Antoine Terrace, clotted cream, Cornwall, kynance cove, Land's End, Lizard Cove, minack theatre, Newlyn, Penzance, Porthcurno, Shakespeare, St. Ives, st. michael's mount

It’ll be almost a year since our epic UK adventure and I have yet to blog or post photos about the places I’ve been even before I met up with Abbey and Frankie. This is the perfect Saturday afternoon to do this…otherwise, I might never get to do it!

Like I’ve said before, I brought a journal with me so I could take down notes every night on my 6-week holiday. Boy, has it been a huge help! Looking at my notes makes me smile as it brings back memories of sun, sea, friendships and boundless adventures!

Picking up from where I left off, here’s more on my trip to Cornwall. I apologise if this is going to sound like entries in a diary.

Our home for a week.

April 17: St. Michael’s Mount

From Antoine’s Terrance, you can see St. Michael’s Mount in the distance. To get here, you can either travel by boat or if the tide is low, you can walk across the causeway. Today was rough seas and we had several bursts of rain throughout the day.

The way to St. Michael’s Mount

Tito is feeling cold.

I’m feeling cold!

And the sun decides to show itself for a moment!

Dogs at the beach.

The weather is seriously confused.

Entrance to the gardens.

We’re beside a boat!

Pretty mural, isn’t it?

Enjoying my first Cornish pasty.

Would’ve been nice to sit here but the tables and benches were wet.

I love flowers.

Father and son.

Cornish tea and coffee, anyone?

These plants look prehistoric, don’t you think?

My fabulous hosts!

Group photo.

A cute Dalmatian waiting for its master.

St. Michael’s Mount.

What’s beyond that gate?

Through the back streets.

Kever an go.

Red building.

Back in town.

Need an anchor?

Dolphin in the sun.

Lichen-covered roofs.

Don’t fall into the rabbit hole.

My friends say you haven’t experienced Cornwall until you’ve had Cornish pasties (and also clotted cream, but not at the same time) and I got to taste my very first pasty here at St. Michael’s Mount. I also downed an espresso to keep me awake. See, I was still fighting jetlag and clearly losing the battle. When we got home at around 5PM, I still fell asleep!

In the evening, Christine cooked dinner and she even made maruya (banana fritters)! Tonight we played Monopoly and I have proven to myself and I truly suck at Monopoly.

April 18: Land’s End and Minack Theatre

We had a late start to the day which was good since I slept at 3AM. I still haven’t gotten over my jetlag. This is only my second day here after all. On today’s agenda was Minack Theatre. AMAZING! Rowena Cade is a goddess. You’d have to have been there to understand fully what I mean. Imagine building an open-air theatre on the side of a granite cliff! As we were exploring the place and checking out the museum, I thought of Frankie. I would love to take her here! One day, I tell you, one day I’ll come back with Frankie and Abbey in tow.

I wore a dress today which was not a very smart thing to do considering how cold and windy it was outside! But my nearly frozen hands were not going to prevent me from taking photos.

Welcome to Minack Theatre.

Welcome to Porthcurno.

Epic fail. I managed to block the sign.

Porthcurno Beach.

I love outcrops by the sea. I am a geologist after all.

Not afraid of heights.

Something to keep us warm on this cold and windy day.

Thank you, Rowena Cade.

A mix of the old and the new.

One day, I’ll watch something performed here.

Scary but also very beautiful.

Oops, it’s out of focus.

The Mithens at Minack Theatre.

Works performed on this stage and which year it was done.

Best seats in the house.

The world is my stage!

Family snaps.

Zack’s playground.

Mother and son.

I love this view.

North-South

Breathtaking view!

Builder’s mate has a special place. He and Billy Rawlings, the gardener, helped Rowena build this theatre.

The theatre also has a garden up the top.

Name that rock.

After Minack Theatre, we headed to Land’s End. This is the southern-most tip of the UK. The winds were stronger and colder here but I pulled through. Note to self, it’s okay to wear a dress but don’t forget to wear tights!

Welcome to Land’s End.

Abandoned? No, we just arrived late.

The shops were closed we we got here.

This is it. Land’s End.

The first and last.

Of course I’ll take a photo if says something about rocks.

Ominous sky.

The path that will lead to the end.

I’m not cold. I’m not cold. I’m not cold!!!

Next time, I’ll finish off my Cornwall entry with some photos from St. Ives, Kynance Cove, Lizard Point, and Penzance, and Castle Drogo.