My second attempt

at appreciating Europe was much less successful as compared with my first. London was charming and friendly; I grew fond of it and still yearn to return. Italy, however, was much less so. Although I have not been mugged, raped, arrested or thrown in a dungeon of lions (or whatever it was the crazy Romans practise), I have not quite enjoyed the good food or good company I so looked forward to.

To be fair, I did achieve my main aim of going to Italy – fulfilling the teenage checklist-item of going on a school trip, and taking loads of photographs. However, because it was a school trip we had to hoard restaurants forty hungry tourists at one go, and obviously waiters were impatient and cooks reduced to mass production of unrealistically stereotypical tourist group food, complete with undercooked pasta and what tasted like and appeared to be expired canned fruit for desert. Remembering this, I am so amazed at how well the teachers dealt with us; I’m sure looking after us was much more challenging than anything Italian cooks were faced with.

In terms of photographs, overall it did make my amateur photographer side happy. When I was in the Vatican City, the lighting was beyond perfect, and the Tuscan sun was impeccably beautiful. But of course, as any tourist in Italy would note, I didn’t have enough time. Plus I didn’t have a willing model who was not my unwilling classmate who did not want to look vain and self-absorbed. Eventually I still forced my classmate to pose for me, and yes, she did complain about me making her look vain and self-absorbed.

At this juncture I would just like to add how willing a model I would have been for myself. Because, yes, I am vain and self-absorbed, no doubt about that.

And so I have returned, with genuine Italian leather souvenirs (still regretting why I didn’t buy ten of the same leather belt), and to happy messages telling me how beautiful my postcards were. And of course, I am now overwhelmed by extreme optimism and anticipation towards the relaxing, successful, and generally brilliant life I lead outside of a mid-October school trip. I really should not complain about Italy, because at least in HK I have internet connection. And a comfortable bed. Oh, you have absolutely idea how great my Asian bed is. At our hotel in Rome we tried to get on one of the beds and it collapsed. Literally. We found it pretty funny back then, but now when contemplating it with the benefit of hindsight, it was just pathetic.

Want to know something else that’s pathetic? In the itinerary our teachers kindly provided us with, us girls were reminded not to sleep with Italian men if they asked us to, and if they asked us to marry them, not not marry them. Unfortunately I have an unattractive and threatening Asian face, and therefore only attracted a grand total of two Italian men, which of course added considerable weight to my already plummeting self esteem. Actually I’m not even sure if they were pick up attempts, since they were speaking in Italian and I had no idea what they were saying. For all I know those Italian men were just asking me politely whether they could mug me. Strange beings, Italian men can be.

Photos up on flickr. Approaching my upload quota… dammit.

Sang at a

memorial this evening. It was slightly depressing, and I remember weeping at one point, but what struck me was the fear of death which began to grow in me. Not my own death, but the death of the person I love with my life, and the fear of living in loneliness.

I might actually have to start making friends to avoid that scenario.

So then we decided to have dinner and dessert, at this small cafe round the corner. It was quiet and everything seemed slower and calmer there with the jazz playing softly and the warm soothing smell of coffee floating in the air. Alright I romanticized that a bit, but it was a nice place nonetheless. The chocolate cake consumed the fear in me; as chocolate is probably the only thing which can defeat turmoil and fear.

And tea, of course (:

Truffle cake (:

Rose Cake which ACTUALLY tasted like rose.

My History teacher used to say he was baffled at two Asian girl trends: one,  Asian hand gestures, e.g. the V sign or puffed up cheeks, faithfully practised by virtually every teenage girl in Hong Kong, and two, the tremendous urge for Asian girls to take a picture of every single thing on their dinner table and shove them all on their poorly maintained blogs. Well what can I say but ASIAN PRIDE.

Back from Xi’an

DSC_0333

Originally uploaded by akioelian

Half a week of adventure, compact and rewarding. Missed home and missed having a toilet seat to sit on, but Xi’an proved to be a beautiful city nonetheless.

More photos on Flickr soon.

Although his whole new nose new skin thing was slightly disturbing to say the least, you can’t deny it – he was the king, and still is.

MJ – you are much missed.

We were on a cab

today, down to civilization (i.e. a place with an MTR station nearby. My new school is on the Peak), and a friend/ classmate asked why I can’t be the normal Lydia he met on the first day of school.

Good question. Why can’t I? >:)

Speaking of weird, my brother bought an alligator turtle a few days ago. This turtle is the rightful successor of my brother’s previous biological obsessions, like a beetle he once bought (if he’s reading this, he’ll be telling me how it’s not just any beetle, but one of extraordinary _____ breed which originated from the ______, and so on and so forth. Which is why keeping a blog is always dangerous – your brother may read it and subsequently explode on you).

A few photographs of the turtle, who is supposed to bite/ snap/ go insanely violent quite frequently.

^Roaming about

^Hunting

^Adventuring

^Waving at me. Such an attention seeking individual, especially given his species.

Hey, he’s just like me!