K.W.

The End

2009-04-10T12:15:00.002-04:00

I am... tired of this blog (a manifestation of my ADHD tendencies). Moving to Wordpress =)

The cheating gene

2009-03-05T21:31:00.003-05:00

At least two cousins are getting married this year. And one getting a divorce. Sadly, it won't be the first one in the family. On that, I would like to reconfirm my belief in karma.

Here's the story. My cousin will be divorcing her husband because he cheated on her. Apparently he had been fooling around with this other woman and one day he suggested that she... move in with them. Sinting kan?

This evening, while I was mindlessly mashing ginger and garlic in the kitchen to cook my tofu, my mind flew to her and her family, specifically her mother, my aunt.

My aunt, at the time no doubt a feisty young woman, was a Chinese language teacher. She gave private lessons to rich people's kids in their homes. What followed was a classic soap opera storyline. She fell in love with one of her students' father, who also fell in love with her. He divorced his wife and married my aunt. The ex-wife allegedly committed suicide and one of the man's children became mentally unstable. Crazy, isn't it? My aunt, a homewrecker.

And now, a similar storyline seems to befall her own daughter. I wonder if she and her husband are now saying to themselves, "Gee, this looks familiar."

More time for myself

2009-03-02T22:18:00.004-05:00

I recently approached my department head at work and asked, "Can I work just four days a week?" Thanks to the economic slowdown (yes, there's always something to thank for!), she said yes. So starting the second week of February, I have been a persona non grata in the office on Wednesdays. Of course, that means forgoing four or three days' worth of wages each month, but I can't help to think that it's a sweet deal. Work for two days, break, work for another two days, then break again. I originally intended this arrangement so I can have more time to practice writing and basically launch myself into a freelance writer. Credits to Malcolm Gladwell and his concept of the 10,000 hour rule.

But last Wednesday afternoon, as I was walking on Sherbrooke Street without a very defined destination, I realized how else those free Wednesdays benefit me. They keep me sane and unjaded from the debilitating routine of having a full-time job, living in a comfortable home and being in a steady relationship.

Those three things, I have realized, make me feel like I'm being nursed in a mental hospital, if I may use that rather dramatic illustration. You live in an environment where your needs are attended to and where you are kept safe from harm, but slowly and unknowingly, you start to lose yourself in your own comfort zone. You forget what else is out there and you've become too lazy to get up and find out.

I'm not saying I don't want my job. I'm not saying my home is a shit hole. I'm not saying I don't love my boyfriend. In fact, it's the total opposite. They could be my downfall because they make me comfortable.

Isn't it funny, absurd even, that I'm saying all this? When a lot of people out there are homeless, starving and heartbroken. Maybe it's just me, maybe it's human nature. We just can't help but fuck things up for ourselves.

I think I had a good weekend

2009-03-02T21:41:00.003-05:00

Finally, I did it. I sent my very first query letter, proposing an article idea to the arts & life editor of the Montreal Gazette. I worked on that letter for the whole weekend. It was not unlike writing a cover letter to apply for a job. It is a job afterall.

They say that most query letters go unanswered and the key is just to keep trying, trying and trying. So I will!

Of course, I didn't spend the whole weekend tweaking that letter. On Saturday I went to this ceramic studio cafe with Perrine and we spent no less than four hours there. I think I've found a new favourite hang out place in this city. It is a combined cafe and place where you can paint ceramics. If it sounds boring, wait til you see the collection of ceramic objects to choose from. There were more than just mugs, plates and bowls. The massive variety takes up the entire second floor of the cafe. I chose to paint a teapot for my recently acquired habit of drinking green tea. In keeping with the theme, I painted green turtles on it. It won't be until the coming Saturday when I can see take home the result, though. My teapot is currently being 'baked' in the oven along with Perrine's blue salamander mug.

I spent a quiet Sunday staying at home until around 4pm when my mood started to deteriorate and I just had to get out of the house. That's my body's normal reaction when kept inside for too long and too long means more than half a day. Also, the bad mood could have something to do with my failed cooking attempt at lunch. The menu I had in mind was chicken with carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, mushrooms with creamy mushrooms sauce on couscous. This is how the events unfolded: first I burned the mushroom sauce, then I burned the couscous and in the frantic scene that followed, I forgot that I had carrots frying madly behind me. I turned around and voila, the carrots had turned black too. It was probably my worst culinary failure. What kind of idiot burns sauce? In the end I made do with some 'saved' carrots, chicken and cauliflower (the broccoli turned out to have kinda yellowed in the fridge...), flavoured with Lee Kum Kee's black pepper sauce. By this stage, I was no longer hungry and just wanted to bury my head in the pillow and cry!

Later on we went out for a walk at Parc Lafontaine and I was glad we did because there were lots and lots and lots of doggies to look at! There was a baby Rottweiler who chose to follow me into the icy surface of the park and the poor thing, not knowing what lay ahead, jumped in and slipped! I think that scene brightened my mood instantly.

Orang nyolot di kantor

2009-02-25T14:35:00.002-05:00

Salah satu orang di tim gua di kantor baru-baru ini resign. Hari Jumat ini hari terakhir dia kerja. Gua seneng banget. Senenggggggggg banget.

Mungkin gua udah pernah cerita tentang dia di blog ini. Mungkin belum. Yang pasti, udah gua blog atau belum nggak mengurangi betapa menyebalkannya orang ini. Pertama-tama, tampangnya bikin gua pingin kentut. Kedua, cara pakai bajunya bikin gua beneran kentut. Ketiga, gaya jalannya bikin gua mencret! Perihal penampilannya yang bikin gua stres, rambut orang ini selalu rapi jali (dengan bantuan hair gel dan antek-anteknya yang pasti). Lalu, gaya berpakaiannya dia sangat sok skateboard, dengan jeans yang ujungnya digulung, memamerkan sepatu ketsnya yang bermerk. Ditambah lagi kerah kemejanya yang selalu ditata keatas. Semua itu dibawa jalan dengan postur peacock (dada dan dagu keatas). Ekstrim gak tuh? Tapi itu belum semua! Pasalnya, orang yang sama ini juga punya gaya bicara yang membuat gua berkomentar seperti, "Ih lu najis ya?" tiap kali dia buka mulut. Dan baru-baru ini, gara-gara ada sedikit restructure di kantor dan dia dipindahkan ke tim gua, gua notice kalau dia punya iPhone.

Pertama kali gua lihat dia dengan mainannya ini adalah ketika tim kita makan malam bersama. Gua ingat, waktu itu kita lagi ngobrol tentang bubble tea. Namanya juga bule, konsep bubble tea yah masih sangat asing untuk mereka, jadinya gua dan satu teman yang lain mencoba jelasin ke mereka apa sih yang dimaksud bubble tea ini, ketika tiba-tiba si A mengeluarkan iPhone-nya dan di layar iPhone tersebut tertera sebuah webpage mengenai bubble tea, komplit dengan penjelasan dan asal usul tapioka. Sah-sah aja sampai sini. Resehnya, dia nggak berenti-berenti main dengan iPhone-nya itu. Orang-orang lain ngobrol, dia malah ngutak-ngatik itu barang. Lagaknya kayak businessman yang punya banyak appointment. Hahaha, emang gua bitchy kali ye?

Tapi tunggu dulu, cerita gua belum selesai. Ternyata! Di kantor pun, dia gak bisa terpisahkan dengan iPhone-nya ini! Orang-orang sibuk ngoceh-ngoceh di telepon (urusan kerja maksudnya), jari-jari dia dan iPhone-nya sibuk sendiri di bawah meja. Aduh, pathetic banget. Kayak anak SD yang sembunyi-sembunyi main Game & Watch di dalam kelas. Ngomong-ngomong, masih ada yang inget Game & Watch gak? Gua hobi banget tuh main Game & Watch waktu masih kecil.

Home sweeeeet home

2009-02-07T23:41:00.003-05:00

After spending hours browsing the net looking at people's DIY home decoration projects (this is the main culprit: www.apartmenttherapy.com), I've decided to take the plunge.

Today, I painted one of my walls with black chalkboard paint. Which means that I'll be able to write stuff on that wall and easily wipe it off - just like in the old primary school days! Things that I have envisioned to write on that wall include:
1. Calendar for the month
2. Growth chart (although I don't think I'll grow any further, but it'll be a handy super long ruler)
3. Shopping list (unfortunately this will be hard to carry to the grocery store...)
4. Outing plans for the month

In addition, I spray painted one of the plain Jane Ikea dining chairs. I picked a purplish blue colour to go with the yellow cushion. The result looks rather shabby chic, which I'm rather pleased about. Someone's got to put some feminine touch to balance out the zen of this place, hehehe. Now I have to decide if I want to paint the table blue or yellow or another colour altogether. I'm thinking... black, to go with the chalkboard wall that stands right behind it.

Excited. Very, very excited.

Just need to chat right now

2009-02-05T23:38:00.002-05:00

I wish I didn’t have to finish off those tax obligations back home, one of them is a few months overdue, hanging off my skinny back. As each day passes, I feel their fangs coming closer and closer. Yet, menacing as these tasks are, I don’t feel compelled to get them over and done with. My writing pursuit comes first. Funny, I feel embarrassed typing out that last sentence.

I’ve read countless articles on being a freelance writer, finding article ideas and writing query letters. I can probably start a book on these subjects without ever having had a feature article in any newspaper with my name as a byline. I guess you can say that I’m overqualified as a freelance writer. The way a 25 year-old Master’s graduate who has never had a job in his field of study is overqualified for his first job.

I cringe every time I think that I’m wasting precious hours in my day job, conducting mind-numbing interviews. When I say mind-numbing, I don’t mean it’s a brainless job, it just means that I’ve known the job so well that I can talk, type, grab a marshmallow, answer an IM message and pick my nose at the same time. My point is, it’s not a bad job, but after almost one year, it is starting to get mechanical.

I did try to do something about it though, spice up my professional life a bit and apply to no less than three internal positions. Failed. Being (or striving to be) someone with high self-esteem, I attribute that to lack of preparation rather than incompetence. But if I want to be more honest, I suspect that I failed because I didn’t really want those jobs. No no, I wanted those jobs, but I didn’t desperately want them. Get the difference? So perhaps, just perhaps, the interviewers caught a whiff of that insincerity.

Happily, I can feel things starting to come together for me. I’ve started writing a query letter, though I’ve stopped short of explaining what my article will actually contain. Ha! But we all start from the bottom, right?

For the second time in my life, I am opting to take the lonely path. That of breaking away from a Monday to Friday, nine to five (or in my case ten to six) job, though this time I am still retaining some of that lifestyle. Mostly for the money, but also to retain a bit of sanity. Repulsive as the word may sound, I do need some form of a r.o.u.t.i.n.e.

I thought 2007 was my year of soul searching and I thought I was satisfied with the results. No. It was just the beginning.

Ocehan Minggu malem sebelum besok kerja lagi

2009-01-18T22:53:00.003-05:00

Sudah setahun di Montreal. Cepat sekali waktu berlalu ya? Tahun 2008 berlalu sangat cepat, seperti kereta tanpa rem. Kemana perginya Jumat-Jumat malam dimana gua main kartu semalem suntuk sama roommates gua sambil makan nachos? Kemana perginya akhir pekan-akhir pekan di musim panas dimana gua gak ada capek-capeknya ngiter kota naik sepeda? Kemana perginya sore-sore dimana gua bela-belain naik bis satu jam buat ketemu si doi? Hehehe... (walapun kalau dipikir-dipikir lagi, ga produktif banget sih?)

Ingin rasanya supaya ingatan gua tentang akhir tahun 2007 dan 2008, masa-masa awal gua kenalan dengan kota ini, dibekuin supaya tidak kadaluwarsa. It was the time of my life where I found myself saying, "Life is beautiful."

Ini musim dingin gua yang kedua disini. Sudah mulai ngerti gimana caranya supaya jari-jari kaki nggak kena frostbite. Sudah ketemu restoran Thai yang pad thai-nya seenak bikinan Benjarong (lebih enak malah?). Dan yang paling penting, sudah punya orang yang bisa diandalin kalau gua ketemu susah.

Gua teringat suatu malam di stasiun metro Peel, kalau nggak salah November 2007. Sambil menunggu kereta datang, tiba-tiba tercetus ide untuk menghabiskan dua tahun mendatang di kota yang berbeda-beda. Tiga bulan di sini, tiga bulan lagi di sana. Gitu terus, sampai dua tahun. Membayangkan gimana serunya gaya hidup kaya gitu, gua excited banget. Sampai deg-degan sendiri. Sesampai di rumah, gua langsung menyalakan komputer dan menulis email ke kakak gua tentang rencana itu.

Fast forward satu tahun, apa yang terjadi? Gua masih disini. Dan gua nggak punya rencana untuk pindah ke kota lain, seenggaknya dalam dua tahun mendatang. Gua udah ketemu 'rumah' gua dan masih senang-senangnya mengutak-ngatik rumah itu, menanam bunga di tamannya dan mengecat dinding di dalamnya.

Tahun ini gua banyak rencana. Memang, belum tentu semuanya tercapai. Tapi yang pasti, gua excited dan deg-degan. And it's a good feeling.

Indonesia's response to Israel's attack into Gaza

2009-01-15T23:17:00.003-05:00

I wrote the following essay during the first few days of Israel's attack into Gaza, which started in the last week of December. It is an opinion piece that I subsequently sent to The Jakarta Post. It did not get published and the opinion editor explained to me that it was because "we demand clear attribution to our articles". Which means that I better get myself some sort of political science degree if I want to have my opinion on this kind of subject published. Oh well. If you decide to read it, though, keep it mind that it was based on the early reports of the attack.

A handful of Indonesian online readers have made comments responding to the news that our government has pledged to send some US$1 million worth of humanitarian aid to the Palestinian victims of Israel’s latest bombings in Gaza. Interestingly, most of the comments clearly indicate which side they are on: neither the Palestinians, nor the Israelis. Rather than commenting on the number of civilian casualties or the right and wrong of the invasion, nearly all of these readers expressed disbelief and annoyance that the government is so ready to dispense such an amount to people above their own. Given the pitiful state of our own economy, it is no doubt a sentiment shared by many others in the country.

What the readers did not make a comment on, however, is how self-righteously our government is in condemning the attack.So far, while speaking at press conferences about the topic, the government ministers have not made any reference to the reason why this bombing took place at the first place. They are either unaware or ignore the facts that the Hamas group had been launching rockets to Israel, blindly and daily, before Israel finally decided to initiate the bombings. Also, while the government laments the civilian casualties that the bombings have claimed, they are also – or choose to be - ignorant to the fact that Hamas members disguise themselves as civilians and operate within the civilian population. How is a bomber pilot, flying hundreds of feet above ground, able to differentiate a Hamas from a non-Hamas if they are all wearing civilian clothing? The only thing they keep their eyes open for then, it seems, is the fact that the victims are Muslims – people like us - and the perpetrators are Jews – people who, by indoctrination, we do not like.Some say that Israel overdoes it on the scale of the retaliation because while Hamas rockets flew daily into Israel's civilian territory, they have killed far fewer than the 320 victims that Israel's bombs have claimed so far. And by definition, they are right. Israel is indeed overdoing it. After all, retaliation is defined as: return of like for like. But beyond that, let's stop and put ourselves in the Israelis’ shoes. They may not have got hit by Hamas rockets, but does living under the threat that they might this day or the next make it any better? In any case, we are talking about retaliation on a national defence level which in Israel’s case, there is the extra weight of defending its right to exist. A dictionary definition of retaliation has no relevance.

We can perhaps liken this situation to the ultimate US retaliation against Japan: the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki that ended World War II. The history is clear cut: Japan brought the US rudely into the theatre of war by bombing Pearl Harbour, an act which cost 2400 lives. In the end, the US decided to end Japan's aggression by bombing their two cities and in doing so, claiming 220,000 lives. It was definitely not a return of the like for like, but as 'beneficiaries' of these atrocities, have we, as a nation, cried foul condemning that particular US action? After all, though the method of their retaliation will always remain in an ethical debate, the desired result – Japan’s surrender – was in our interest, as was the case for other countries under the Japanese occupation. We rejoiced over the deaths and sufferings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki's civilians because effectively, thanks to their destroyed lives, we were finally able to claim our independence and build our own lives.

And so, in responding to Israel's action over Hamas, our government must always keep itself in perspective. It must try to prevent its personal feelings from seeing the facts, and the fact is that this is just another border conflict, whose participants could easily be Baltic, European, Asian or Middle Eastern countries. Taking sides with anyone just because they – victim, perpetrator or both – share our religion will only further damage Indonesia’s credibility. Even if we ideologically ‘belong’ to that part of the world that denies Israel’s existence, let’s face the facts. Israel is strong both militarily and financially. It is also an ally of the most powerful nation in the world. Whether we like it or not, Israel is here to stay.

And finally, while an act of charity is indeed a wonderful thing, let’s not overdo it – after all, millions of our own desperately poor people could benefit from a tiny bite of that US$1 million pie.

A day-off

2009-01-13T20:37:00.004-05:00

Today is that kind of day. First, you wake up late. Then you spill your cereal on the kitchen floor. And you find out that you've run out of paper towel. So you quickly clean it up and take a shower. You have a lot of errands today, the first being going to the bank, naturally. You get there - yay there is no line - but then the bank teller tells you that the service you're after does not exist. With a dejected facial expression, you limp away from the counter towards the exit. Then you remember that while there, you also have to change your address. You turn around and see that, out of nowhere, there are now at least five people in the line. After a 10-minute lull that seems like 40 minutes, it's your turn. The bank now knowing where you really live, you happily walk out of the bank towards your next destination: a bank that offers the first service you're after. Logically, you pick the most popular bank. There, a bank teller greets you and asks how you are, but in a tone that suggests that he doesn't care about his job, nor about you. He then proceeds with telling you that you need to go to another part of the branch to request that service. You go there and voila, there is no one. A little note on the glass window asks you to go to the receptionist, strangely situated further inside the room. You explain what you need and then you are sent back to the window to wait for someone to be dispatched there. You twiddle your index finger on the counter top. Just because. Then a face appears behind the window. It's the same person that greets you beforehand. He tells you that the other person is not available. That's okay. What matter is that finally, someone will take care of you. Or not. The most popular bank , you are told, does not offer that service either. Try the bank next door, he says. This time with a genuine smile. You feel a little better. It's true that happiness is contagious, isn't it? Walking to the bank next door, you start putting together the introduction of a letter of feedback to your bank. Which quickly gets shelved, because finally, finally you find a bank that can give you what you need. The teller seems to be on another planet, though. It is not after two torn cheques later that you have what you need neatly tucked in your bag. Perhaps she is having the same kind of day as you. After a brief feeling of relief, you realize that your errands are far from over. You have only just ticked off the first item on your list. Next, you need to get yourself two passport photos. Tired of walking around, you go straight to the information desk. You want to know where the instant photo booth is. You see two men at the desk. One is serving a customer on a wheelchair. One of those that tells you that the user has far more troubles than just not being able to walk. You stand in front of the other staff that is not occupied. His attention is on the wheelchaired customer. Finally, he realizes that you are there. You say hi. Not saying anything first but smiling, he points to the writing on his t-shirt. You don't get it. And after awhile he gets that you don't get it. "Promotions," you hear him say. Your question is not about promotions, so you take your place behind the wheelchair. Another introduction to a letter of feedback pops into your head. Then you spot it. The photo both is on the ground floor, next to the ice cream shop. You take the stairs down quickly, congratulating yourself on your sharp eyesight. As you get nearer, you notice that the booth looks unusually artsy. Is this how they make photo booths these days? Yes, it turns out, if the photo you are after is your own caricature version. You nearly kick the otherwise innocent photo booth. Nearby, thankfully, is an information board. Good, there is another photo booth in the building. Even better, it's close to the post office, your final destination. Finally, everything falls into place. You go inside the booth, take off your bulky jacket and comb your hair. You skim through the instructions quickly. You don't really understand, but then you think, what's not to understand about instant photo booths? So you insert two $2 coins into the slot. Next you press the green button, while keeping your eyes fixed on the instructions, to really make sure that you are doing it right. The next thing you know, a flash light floods the room, catching your face in the process. Shit. Is that it? you think. Before you know it, the machine has gone to work to fulfil its advertised 3-minute promise. You frantically look for some sort of cancel button. There is none. You curse yourself rudely, hoping that your facial expression that appears on the photo is still within the acceptable range of what the Canadian Consulate General allows. "The face must be square to the camera with a neutral expression, neither frowning nor smiling, with the mouth closed." The result comes very close, but you decide to throw it away. Though not mentioned in the rule, you are certain that a confused expression with upward looking nostrils featuring in the photo will do more harm than good to your application. By this time, you are totally, unapologetically upset with your day. But you go on. You have no choice. You ask at the pharmacy if they do passport photos. They don't, but there is a shop in the building next door that does. So you go there. Yes, the place does do passport photos. In fact, it's the only thing that it does. No grey areas there. You pay the $14 fee and sulkily sit yourself on the stool. Click. It's done. The guy shows you the result. You look like a lettuce. But you don't care. You just want to go home. One last thing to do. The post office. You put the documents in the envelope and watch the guy seal it, stick a registered post label on it, and you sigh a big relief. Finally it's over. You start walking out of the post office. For what can be classified as a miracle though, something tells you to stop and check again. Has everything indeed been put in the envelope? You quickly realize that the answer is no. You frantically go back to the counter. The guy hands you back the envelope. You put the forgotten item in, all the while thinking what else might you be forgetting. You double and triple check everything. Satisfied, you walk out of the post office and out of the building. You head home. Hungry, tired and cold. It has started to snow again. A lot. Back at home, you sit down and drink a glass of water. You smile and say to yourself, "I made it." Then a jolt. You realize you have forgotten to buy an onion.

Hello 2009!

2009-01-03T11:28:00.005-05:00

New year, new home. Moving in with the boyfriend. Third move within a one-year period (fourth if moving to a new country is included in the count). Cramming in two grown-ups' worth of necessities and junks into a studio apartment. A crazy, seemingly impossible feat that has manifested into a rather weirdly cosy establishment, with the sofa placed diagonally almost in the middle of the room, its right end nearly touching the bed.

This living arrangement means neither of us has our own personal space. Practical implications: I'll have to live with the football game commentaries coming from the TV and he'll have to live with my obsession to keep everything clutter free and crumbs free.

It's Saturday morning, the first of 2009. I'm happily typing away at the dining table and he's happily reading his weekend newspaper on the couch. The TV is off (happily). In its place: incomprehensible old French music, and the quietly humming sounds of my laptop and the refrigerator. It's definitely not what I had imagined a year ago, but I like it and with a little luck, maybe I won't have to move again in six months.

It's nearly over, this thing called 2008

2008-12-28T09:19:00.005-05:00

One year has passed since I first started this blog. I'm no longer 27yo, like the blog address suggests. Soon, it will be 2009 and I will be well on my way to become a 30yo. Like everyone of my age, we all feel a certain anxiety entering this next phase of our life. Though we all have different challenges: some face the constant battle of a little child demanding utmost attention and wit, others scramble to find the buttons to move up the corporate elevator (admit it, no one ever takes the stairs at work anymore unless it's a fire drill, right?).

My sister asked in an email on my birthday recently: "So have you achieved a great deal this year?" Being my sister, she enjoys the privileges of being direct and in-my-face with me without coming across as accusatory and loaded with expectations - even though she used the words 'a great deal'. If that had been my dad asking, I probably would have got on the defensive.

I answered: "I don't know... define "great deal"? Actually I had a realization the other day that I have a really simple life, but happy one! I don't know if I could say that two years ago, so from that point of view, I think I have achieved a great deal."

And that is the truth.

I do realize, however, that a fulfilling personal life hinges on many other factors, one of which is having a fulfilling life outside of that. As much as a person loves their partner and family, if they don't have anything else that they look forward to or challenged with, sooner or later that family satisfaction will wither. I have seen this happen with my mother and her situation is not uncommon with the rest of the stay-at-home wife population.

Therefore, having said that, it is imperative that I have a goal. And it is imperative that I achieve it. So my resolution for 2009 is this: finish what I have started, whatever it is I have set out to do. For I believe that anything is possible and that not finishing what I have started is the primary reason why I have achieved relatively little success so far in my life.

Thank you for reading and happy new year!

Another laughable gimmick

2008-11-25T22:11:00.002-05:00

Recently, the top Malaysian Islamic body issued a fatwa against yoga, arguing that its practice contains elements of Hinduism and might corrupt Islamic faith. It added that while yoga as a pure element of physical exercise might not be against Islamic beliefs, Muslims should avoid practising it because "doing one part of yoga would lead to another."

The chairman of the fatwa council advocated, “There are many other forms of exercise that Muslims can partake in, especially when the religion promotes healthy living and lifestyle. Performing prayers, for example, is a good form of exercise." Perhaps soon the council will unveil a new method of praying, which involves strapping weight belts around the worshippers' waists and arms while they stoop back and forth during their shalat.

The only glimmer of hope I have is that more and more people, including Muslims, will find that this religion is slowly choking their lifestyle and will finally form their own voice and make a stand against these dictatorial religious bodies.

Note: More recently, MUI declared that it is considering following the footsteps of their Malaysian counterpart. How original.

Don't break my heart unless you have to

2008-11-09T22:48:00.003-05:00

There's nothing more sobering than a break-up, when somebody breaks up with you, that is. It immediately signals a failure, and at first impression, your failure to live up to someone's expectation, though after given some time to mourn and reflect, one might find that the failure actually belongs to the person who breaks up with you.

I've had a number of break-ups throughout the years, one no easier than the one before. My most recent one was in June this year, when my boyfriend of some six months decided that it would be best for us him that we just be friends. Boo. Thankfully, he went overseas shortly afterwards on vacation, and with that it was proven to me convincingly that out of sight is indeed out of mind - if, ironically, you really put your mind to it.

Still, the ten days between the breakup and his departure was difficult and decorated with tears. Somehow, because we agreed that we would still be good friends, I expected that he would still drop by ~~now and then~~ every two days and hang out with me after work. Indeed, I'm one of those girlfriends who love spending a lot of time with their boyfriends. A lot, meaning as much time as is physically possible. I'm rather embarrassed to admit it, really, because we all know that that isn't cool.

True to our words, we are still good friends now. We only see each other maybe once every two weeks nowadays, but that's actually quite special because that's even more than the frequency with which I see my other friends. The other night we went out for a drink and it was amazing sitting there remembering that I once thought that this guy was the one. How wrong can our feeling be and how clouded can our judgment turn out as a result. And it's not at all because he's a bad person. It's just that he's bad boyfriend for me.

I guess all I'm trying to say is this: a break-up is always good.

More chatter

2008-11-08T21:56:00.003-05:00

Right now… I’m dreaming of a bowl of Bakmi Gajah Mada. Oh man, just thinking about it makes me happy. Of course, the reality is quite different. Dinner tonight was (canned) cream of chicken. No bread (too lazy).

I had a nice Saturday, though. Woke up not too late, just in time to go to McCord Museum, which admits visitors free of charge between 10 to 12 on the first Saturday of each month. I only had the energy (and patience) to see one exhibition ‘Reveal or Conceal’ which traces the evolution of women’s clothing from the 19th century until the present time. Specifically, its relation to modesty and eroticism. Noted two interesting things:1. A ‘full dress’ actually means a dress that reveals the shoulders, arms and even cleavage. It was the dress code for elite women in the late 19th century (don’t quote me on the exact period though, it could’ve been early 20th century) when attending balls. At one such occasion, the invited women were instructed to wear a full dress where failing to do so required them to submit a medical letter saying why they could not wear one! Crazee…
2. Of course, an exhibition named ‘Reveal or Conceal’ has to mention veiled women, right? One woman’s comment on why she loves the veil so much is because “after wearing the veil all day outside, when you come home, take it off and see yourself in the mirror, you’ll find yourself even more beautiful [than you think].” Also, “I love wearing beautiful and soft fabrics. Wearing the veil just gives me the excuse to wear these nice things everyday.” I knew that thing has nothing to do with modesty! The other comments defend the veil because the veil gives the wearer self respect. Ay ay ay… I don’t buy that crap. You don’t need a piece of cloth covering your head in order for others to respect you. There are things like being smart, being friendly or being generous.

Moving on... I then went the Salvation Army shop to look for clothes I can wear to work. Didn't find any decent looking tops, but I did find two really nice skirts (one even bears a Polo Ralph Lauren label, though authenticity is in doubt) at $4 each! Woohoo.

The rest of the afternoon was spent walking around the city which, thanks to the rain, is no longer a smog factory. I love this city full stop.

And tonight , we learnt that Canadian TV journalist, Melissa Fung, who was kidnapped last month in Afghanistan has been released. Great news, of course, but it does remind us that, while we go to our warm beds tonight, fearing nothing but the alarm clock that might strike at any moment to remind us that we have jobs to go to, many, many people around the world live in captivity. Held by political enemies or, even scarier, by people close to them. Remember earlier this year the story about this guy who held his own daughter in the basement for 25 years and had children with her? It's stories like this that sometimes makes me think - despite the obvious invasion of privacy - that we all have to be electronically chipped.

Remembering a Saturday

2008-11-06T23:01:00.003-05:00

It feels like yesterday. I can still feel the warm late spring wind blowing in my face, with fatigue starting to take hold of my body, as I was biking back to Parc Laurier, where we were supposed to meet. With every minute that passed, I grew more and more anxious and started cursing my own inability to bike faster. After all, it had been almost one hour since we were supposed to meet. I turned right on Laurier Ave, hoping that it would be a shortcut, but not knowing that it would eventually prolong the trip as the street took on a zigzagging path, with hilly ways that seemed to be plotting together to slow me down.

When finally the bike ‘ordeal’ came to an end, I carelessly locked my bike to the first pole I saw and raced towards the soccer field. Not again, I thought to myself, would I be so cheap as to prefer to bike than to pay $4 to catch public transport. I seriously overestimated my fitness that day and as I would soon find out, it would cost me very dearly.

I saw Eric and some of the French girls at the soccer field, went over and said hello. My eyes wandered from left to right and then right to left. There was no you. Maybe you went to sit down under the tree or something, away from them. I know you aren’t the social butterfly type, especially around people you hardly know. I excused myself to find a public telephone, which happened to be on the other side of the park. Really, everything seemed to be so out of reach that afternoon. I dialled your phone number and grew more desperate as your phone kept ringing, unanswered. Then your recorded voice came on the line. “Bonjour, vous êtes bien chez Emmanuel, laissez votre message and je vous appelerai.” or something to that effect. I love your voice there. You sound so warm and welcoming. But at that moment, it was the last thing I wanted to hear. With a heavy heart, I left you a message, letting you know that I would be going home and if you wanted, we could meet there instead.

I could have looked for you around the park once more and then tried to call again, but you know what, I was exhausted and I had no more coins. So I went home and as soon as I got there, reached for the phone and dialled your number again.

This time, you answered the phone. You sounded so different from your recorded voice. You sounded so.. cold and distant. You already left the park and were on your way home, which at the time, was far, far away from where I lived. My hope of seeing you again that day was dashed. “Sorry Karina, I’m very tired. I’m going home and rest.” Reluctantly, almost to the point of wanting to scream, “No! You can’t do that to me! You were supposed to wait for me!”, I hung up. I went to my room, put my overexercised feet on the desk and was suddenly enveloped by an overwhelming need to cry. What a shitty Saturday afternoon. And I sobbed, and sobbed, not knowing what I was really sobbing for.

I heard the door open and the sound of my roommate’s rollerblades filled the apartment. I spent the rest of the early evening with my roommate, talking and watching hockey on TV. It was during the Stanley Cup and of course, the Canadiens were playing, but I really can’t remember now who they were playing against. I cared very little about hockey then. After awhile, I was so tired that I fell asleep right there and only woke up when my roommate – the same one – came back into the apartment clutching his poutine dinner. I didn’t even hear him go out!

Feeling a little better, I turned on my laptop. You were online and you said hello. I wasn’t sure what to say, but you started apologizing for not waiting for me earlier. You said you were really feeling unwell, but “that’s not an excuse. I should’ve waited for you. I’m sorry Karina.” You asked me what I was doing. I said I was just semi-watching hockey on TV, but really, I said half-jokingly, I’d rather be hanging out in the suburbs tonight. I was referring to Riviere-des-Prairies, of course, your little quiet suburb. To my surprise, yes back then I wasn’t really good at reading what you were really thinking, you invited me to come over. I looked at the clock. It was almost 8.30pm. I said I wasn’t really sure which bus to take and even if I did, I didn’t know where to get off! You quickly gave me the directions, which confused the hell out of me.

When I got home that afternoon, I really did not imagine that I would be doing another long trip. And yet, there I was, waiting for the metro to take me to almost the end of the orange line, to where I would catch a bus that would take me to almost the end of the island. It was madness from my part. To think that at the time, I always told you stubbornly, “I just want us to be friends.”

I brought my iPod and a book. Still, the ride seemed to outlast the two put together. The whole trip was new to me though, so from that point of view, it wasn’t that horribly boring, though the rain outside made the bus windows foggy and I had to wipe the one next to me now and then so I could stay on top of your directions. God forbid I should miss my stop that night. It was raining, I didn’t know where I was, and I didn’t have a mobile phone.

I virtually ran as soon as I got out of the humid bus. It was after 10pm then and it was getting cold. As soon as I saw you standing there outside your apartment, though, I said to myself, "it's going to be alright."

I'm turning all the lights on

2008-11-05T20:58:00.003-05:00

First night alone in a long, long time. So far, no problem. But then again, it's not bed time yet. As much as I claim myself to be an independent, modern woman, I actually hate living by myself. I do enjoy my own company when I have a good book and a glass of ice cold chocolate soy milk, but I won't last very long that way. Once my eyes are tired from reading, I would want the company of another person nearby.

I have not been separated from my boyfriend for more than 24 hours since July 1st, 2008. This afternoon, however, he flew to Europe to attend his beloved grandmother's funeral on Friday and won't be back until Sunday. What the hell am I going to do with myself? Yes, thank Goodness, there is cable TV and for the next 4 days, I can watch whatever I want there without being interrupted by hockey matches, football matches, rugby matches and the rest of them. I can finally have french language channels on at all times, in the hope that, unconsciously, my brain will pick up new words here and there. Wishful thinking, I know.

I don't even know where the hell am I going with this journal entry. I guess I just feel like talking, but there's no one here I can talk to because I'm not a telephone person and because it's a weeknight and I don't feel like going out anywhere. Plus, I'm starting to get a cold again. My throat is feeling scratchy.

AGGGGGGGGHHH.

Don't worry, it's actually not so bad :) I'm just whingeing because well, I'm just so not used to being in this apartment by myself :)

By the way, my boyfriend's grandmother died last weekend. She died at 1am Belgium time, which would have been 8pm here. Here's the funny thing. Earlier that evening, we had a nap, but I woke up at around 6.30 while he continued sleeping. At 8pm, however, and I remember this because I just read a little clip on lapresse.com saying that the Canadiens were down 1-2 after a 20-minute period and Saturday night games normally start at 7.30, my boyfriend screamed out of his sleep. He said that he dreamed that the Canadiens scored. Over there in Belgium, though, his grandmother died at that same time. Isn't that so freaky?

The freakiness doesn't end there. Later that evening, we went out for dinner and, I can't remember what led to that topic, we started talking about our dead relatives. I think he first mentioned about All Souls day and he then explained to me what it was about. He said that on All Souls day, he used to go to his grandparents' graves (the ones from his dad's side) and put fresh flowers there. I then talked about how I, too, used to go to my grandfather's grave in Jakarta (in freaky Joglo cemetery yg becek banget kalo abis ujan) with my parents, aunts, uncles and cousins, and we used to put cakes, oranges and the like around the grave for my grandfather to "savour". From there we talked about our other relatives who had died.

It was the morning after that he learned from his mother that his "mamie" had died. It's heartbreaking to see a grown man cry. I hope I'll never have to see him like that ever again.

What saddened me also was that, I realized that I wasn't there for my parents when their parents died. My sister told me that my mother and her younger sister were crying the hardest at my grandmother's funeral. I know my mum often dreams about her and I know that sometimes she cries in her sleep - a mix of sleeptalking and whimpering.

AGGGHHHHH. Excuse me, but I'll have to continue this another time. It's such a depressing topic!

Dreaming of good food

2008-10-21T19:42:00.003-04:00

Have you ever talked so much that you got sick of your own voice? I have. Actually, I am, on a daily basis. It's unbelievable how much water I have to consume each day to keep my throat from overdrying from too much talking. Yes, yes, I love my job, but no, no, this cannot go on and on.

The weather has turned cold. Hello winter! Hello bulky jackets that hide the fact that I'm all skins and bones - yay! There is no turning back. From now until at least April 2009, my days will once again be filled with taking the metro to work, slathering hand lotion every conceivable minute and screaming, "Damn, it's cold!"

But for now, I'm happy and warm. I'm taking advantage of the free wi-fi at the foodcourt in the underground city. Don't want to go home yet because that means I have to think about what to eat for dinner tonight. Which reminds me, I had a few disappointments yesterday in the domain of food.

Seeing that I have now bought myself a weekly metro pass, I am now free to go from A to Z on the metro network without any worry in the world, if time permits. So, after work yesterday, I decided to go to the Jean-Talon suburb, which is a haven for Vietnamese treats. My intention was clear: Vietnamese springrolls. Or, if they are sold out, Korean instant noodles. After which I will reward myself a steaming bowl of pho at the nearby Vietnamese restaurant. Got to the door of the oriental grocery store and, "What the hell? How come the door wouldn't open?" Crap, the shop closes at 7pm on Mondays. I was 30 minutes late. Unbelievable. I thought all Asian-owned shops open until at least 9pm. Oh well, not to worry, at least I can still eat pho. Or so I thought. The restaurant - it turned out- closes on Mondays. What the hell? I thought all Asian-owned (except Indonesian-owned) restaurants open Monday to Monday again.

So I dragged my feet back to the metro to go home, all the way comforting myself that at least, AT LEAST, I can get some delicious Portuguese roast chicken at the corner of my street. Romado's - the place is called - is never not busy, so when I got to their door, seeing that there was no line-up, was overjoyed. Walking to the counter, I was rehearsing in my head what I would order, but I didn't get to practice my line. "Il n'y a plus de poulet, cherie," the little lady said from behind counter, in what usually looks more like a chicken's worst nightmare. The kitchen, when it's in full swing, truly looks like a hell for chickens. But of course, this time all was quiet on the chicken front. Romado's had run out of chickens for the night. In the end, I had the classic Indonesian student's budget meal: steam rice with fried eggs.

I guess it's time to go home now. Hopefully, I"ll have better luck with food tonight.

What are you thankful for?

2008-10-10T11:53:00.003-04:00

Believe it or not, my stolen bike has been returned. To the exact same place where it was stolen a number of weeks ago, tied to the same pole on rue Sherbrooke.

When I first spotted it, I was enraged, "How dare this person park the bike exactly where he or she stole it?" I immediately thought, "Ok, this must be some kind of a prank." On a closer look, however, I noticed that the bike was not locked to the pole. It was simply tied to it. There was no note, unfortunately, but I suppose the thief`s intention was clear: I don`t need your bike anymore. In any case, this is not a common occurrence in Montreal. Bikes are stolen - full stop.

The funny thing is, I actually no longer need it or want it. I bought another bike shortly after that bike disappeared and I immediately loved the new bike. It is so much nicer to ride on and I no longer dread the hellish climb between rue Duluth and rue Rachel on the way home.

Funnily enough, this kind of thing often happens in human relationships. When we lose someone through a break up, oftentimes we don`t realize that it`s for the better. On the other hand, we might have let someone go, only to find out later that it was not a good decision. By then, however, it would`ve been too late - that someone no longer wants us.

So do I have a piece of advice to conclude this somewhat cheesy journal entry? Absolutely not. But I would love to say this:

Happy Thanksgiving!

The fathers of all boy bands

2008-09-21T11:43:00.004-04:00

(This picture is taken from the Montreal Gazette)

Do you recognize these faces?

The old kids on the block have reunited, apparently. Of course, they still retain their old name: New Kids On The Block. Gee, some people just refuse to grow up, don't they?

Nevertheless, how the hell did I manage to miss their concert last night? I did hear about them coming to town a few weeks ago, but somehow that idea just sat quietly at the back of my mind.

They came to Indonesia many years ago - I think at that time I was in grade five - and my two best friends went to their concert. Although their visit to Indonesia generated bad publicity for the group as people and journalists reported how stuck up these kids were, I have always rather regretted not having the guts to ask my parents if they'd give me the money to buy the (expensive) tickets to watch NKOTB perform.

I am seriously contemplating to watch their concert in Boston. After all, kapan lagi gua bisa 'hangin' tough' bareng boyband favorit gua?

Ethics and Religious Education in Quebec

2008-09-14T14:21:00.003-04:00

I just saw a tv program that told about a new educational program for primary school children in Quebec called Ethics and Religious Education. It is still in a pilot stage and the purpose of this new program is to teach school children about the various 'major religions' of the world and subsequently, foster a tolerant mentality towards them. This means that, if their parent once sat in class listening to the stories of Jesus and his twelve sidekicks (only), now the kid can skip that and learn not only about Christianity, but also Judaism and Islam instead, for example. Great, huh? What an appropriate new school program for children brought up in a world full of news of bomb threats and bombs actually going off.

Unfortunately, some parents (backed by some Christian religious authorities) do not agree. They have organized a resistance group and filed petitions to have their children exempted from this program. The good thing is, theirs seems to be a lost cause. School boards around the region have rejected their plea, leaving behind a trail of pissed off parents.

One parent was quoted to say that he is worried that if his kids learn about other religions on top of Catholicism, they will become confused by too many choices. Another said that the course threatens his children's Christian faith. A child's Christian faith? I don't believe that there is such a thing. As much as I don't believe in a young Muslim girl wearing a veil just because her mother does.

The purpose of sending your children to school is to equip them with life skills. Skills that will ensure their survival in society, especially one that is becoming more and more diverse. If these parents want their children to have Christian faith, that kind of education should take place at home, where the children learn about Christian faith by observing their parents living according to those values.

There was an incident recently in the Laurentians where a Jewish man was assaulted. The Gazette reported that "A group of young guys started staring at us and then, from five metres away, they threw a whole bunch of coins at us - I don't know, maybe thinking, 'Jews are cheap' - a typical joke," recalled Haouzi." The incident led to poor Haouzi being punched and injured. A witness nearby refused to call the police.

While fundamentalists and racists can never be completely eradicated, a program that teaches about what your neighbours believe in and how, deep inside, we're all more or less the same, can ensure their numbers stay low. I have to admit, I am guilty of an ignorant thought from time to time too, but maybe that's because I didn't grow up with an Ethics and Religious Education course.

Just another stolen bike in Montreal

2008-09-07T23:06:00.003-04:00

Akhirnya apa yang semua sudah wanti-wanti terjadi juga. SEPEDAKU DICOLONG ORANG. Pagi itu, hari Jumat, sepeda yang hampir dua bulan terakhir ini nongkrong setia di rue Sherbrooke menunggu pemiliknya bangun dan berangkat ke kantor sudah lenyap, walaupun tidak tanpa bekas. Si maling yang beroperasi pada malam hari itu menyisakan gembok sepeda gua sebagai kenang-kenangan. Sopan juga tuh maling. Yang bikin gua bingung, gimana caranya dia ngelepasin gembok tersebut dari sepeda gua tanpa tanda-tanda forced entry?

Lucunya, dua hari sebelum sepeda itu hilang, gua sempet mengambil foto ini:

Ceritanya gua lagi jalan-jalan malem, dan setelah gua foto sebuah rumah (yg malam itu terlihat cantik sekali di bawah sinar lampu jalanan), gua terkesima karena ternyata sepeda gua juga nggak kalah cantik di bawah lampu jalanan yang sama.

Gara-gara si maling itu pula, gua mesti keluar duit beli sepeda baru. But, like all the wise men and women before me have said, all things happen for a reason. And the reason is, my new bike - which is cheaper - is actually a much better bike, though it's uglier and rustier. Still, sebel aje mesti keluar duit lagi. I was doing so well with this week's budget. Grrrr....

Marilah kita sama-sama berdoa supaya sepeda baru gua bernasib lebih mujur.

From Aceh with love

2008-08-24T05:43:00.002-04:00

This video will put you in a lighter mood (baca: kocak abis).

As to the lyrics of the song, I'd like to say... no comment - though I wouldn't mind getting a full translation. After all, ignorance breeds prejudice, no?

Superman comes to town

2008-08-17T21:07:00.004-04:00

This man left me breathless today, and as a result, I nearly died... laughing.

Little Boy Blue

2008-08-16T22:10:00.003-04:00

The picture that got me interested in www.markryden.com.

A Swedish Dream

2008-08-16T16:15:00.004-04:00

Once upon a time, when I was still in university (yep, it was that long ago), I learned in a marketing class the concept that when you buy a product, you don't really buy the product per se, but the function that it serves. D'oh, of course, but until I actually read that in the book, I never really realized it. One of the most popular examples that illustrates this concept is a a cosmetic product. Us women might be enticed by the cute coloured lipgloss offered by the smart people behind Stila, but essentially, that's not what we're buying. Charles Revson, founder of Revlon, puts it down simply as this, "In the factory, we make cosmetics; in the store we sell hope."

Personally, I don't use much cosmetic products, so this example doesn't really sink in with me. But today I went to IKEA and it hit me immediately why people flock to that place anywhere in the world. IKEA is the adult version of Disneyland. You see, it may not be the happiest place on earth, but it sure makes you think that it will make your home the happiest place on earth.

Even flicking through the catalogue is a rewarding experience. Guys might identify the feeling while flicking through the Penthouse magazine. (Which is a rather funny analogy, if I could call myself funny, because the latest IKEA catalogue is now sitting right next to my toilet bowl...)

Of course, the previous two paragraphs are probably just my unconscious efforts to justify the number of things I want to buy from IKEA, hihihi. Eventually, I only came out with the things I really needed (good girl, me!), but now I can't get my mind off that cool bar table and that orange lamp shade. Geez.

I'm sure my IKEA dreams will come true one day, but for now, I guess I'd still come home to a half-furnished apartment :)

Awww shut up!

2008-08-13T22:14:00.004-04:00

A comedian once said on TV that finding a soulmate is easy. Just look for someone who's not an asshole. I totally agree. Because so what if you two share the same interests if he always ditches you to watch footie (or hockey, or soccer) with his mates? Today, though, I realized that there's one more trait that's just as important: find someone who has the ability to listen. To other people, that is. If anything, it's probably one of the most important attributes your boyfriend or girlfriend must have.

Thankfully, I didn't realize this fact from my own boyfriend. It was thanks (or no thanks?) to this gentleman I was unfortunate to have had to speak to at work.

The guy was giving a reference for this woman he used to work with. Before we started, I told him that the interview would take approximately five minutes and asked him whether he'd be okay with that. He said that was fine. So off we went. Right off the bat, though, I knew - to my dismay - that he was one of those people who loved talking for talk's sake. But he was special. He was either in love with that woman, or he just loved hearing his own voice reverberate through the phone line. I put in practice all kinds of techniques available out there to cut him off politely for each question to prevent me from writing a 5000-word essay to present to the hiring manager, but it looks like I'd need new techniques after that. Finally, after way more than five minutes, I managed to ask all the questions I had to ask. But guess what, if normal people would take "Well thank you for your time today" as a farewell sentence, he took it as "Do you have any other comments?"

I said no less than five times, "Well [his name], thank you so much for your comments." But save for the last one - when I must've started to sound like I wanted to either scream, or cry, or fart out of frustration - he started a new trail of praises for that ex-colleague of his.

And this is the best part. Just before we hung up, he said, "That was more than five minutes, wasn't it?"

Asshole.

I love my job

2008-08-02T00:21:00.003-04:00

I interview people on a daily basis for the purpose of employment references. It may not seem so, but it's a stressful job (but then again, which job isn't?), though there's always something that keeps us entertained, or... as the insider joke tells it, "keeps us checkin'".

Here are the top three things that cracked me up recently:

Me: What was he employed as at the time?
Referee: He was my bitch.
(Needless to say, I had to ask further about this candidate's responsibilities...)

Me: What's your position?
Referee: Sitting down.
(I was so tempted to scream, "Lame!", but decided to laugh along with him instead.)

Colleague: Is this a good time to speak to you?
Referee: I'm in labour at the moment, can I call you back?
(I can't remember what my colleague said in response, but I'm pretty sure the phone call didn't last that long.)

Cruel summer

2008-07-26T16:32:00.003-04:00

Disini lagi musim festival nih. Sekarang ini lagi ada Francofolies, minggu sebelumnya ada Juste Pour Rire (Just For Laughs), dan minggu sebelomnya ada Jazz Festival. Itu yg gede-gede. Pada saat yg bersamaan, ada festival2 mini seperti Haitian Music Festival dan Les Nuits Afriques. Maklum, lagi summer. Terus terang, gua suka banget summer disini, soalnya gua bisa berkeliaran naek sepeda kemana-mana. One of the most fun things is discovering a nice looking restaurant or cafe in the middle of nowhere. Resenya ya... humidity-nya itu. Mesti mandi dua tiga kali sehari. Ganti kolor dua tiga kali sehari. Numpuk deh yg namanya cucian.

Aaaanyway.

Gua baru pindah nih, by the way. Akhirnya, gua punya tempat tinggal sendiri (dalam artian tinggal sendiri, walaupun masih nyewa) tanpa embel-embel roommates. I live in a small three and a half, a real-estate term here which means a place consisting of three rooms (bedroom, living room and kitchen) plus a bathroom (the half room). One thing I learned from moving to my own place was that moving is expensive. And I'm not only talking about the furnitures. I'm talking about inexpensive little things like a dish sponge, a broom, cleaning products, plates, cups, tea towels, kitchen knife, chopping board, and so on and so forth. In fact, I didn't have to pay much for furniture. The only thing I bought was my bed. The rest, like my coffee tables (x2), bedside drawers, and sofa, I picked up from the street. I love this city.

Except for one insane incident a few weeks ago.

It happened on Avenue Mont-Royal around 10pm. The boyfriend and I just got out of Tim Horton's, the donut shop, and we were walking back towards my place, not too far from there. At the same time, a young man was walking in the opposite direction on the same sidewalk. As we passed each other, I noticed a yellow-coloured something around his neck. Something that moved. Something that ressembled a... a... a... oh for fuck's sake, it was a snake! I screamed my lungs off as soon as I realized what I thought it was. For your information, at this point, I wasn't 100% sure that it was a real snake. I didn't think it was legal to walk around with that thing around your neck (but the shock was so great that I screamed anyway). I mean... hello? We're on a street lined with boutiques, restaurants and cafés! But then the man, hearing my anguish-filled scream, turned around and said, "Don't worry, it's not dangerous!"

My ex-roommate later confirmed that it was indeed a living snake, capable of breaking all the bones in your body (ok, this last point's an exaggeration), because he had seen it at Tam-Tam's, a weekly Sunday event at Parc Mont-Royal. And... as if I wasn't emotionally bruised enough, last week there was another snake-related incident about three blocks away from where I live. A woman discovered a python under her bed, and it was not hers.

So it's confirmed. I live in a neighbourhood that, God knows why, attracts snakes. Alright that's it. I'm going to start sprinkling salt around my windows and doors. Either that, or I'll have to see a shrink and get my phobia fixed.

Never dreamed you'd leave in summer

2008-07-18T22:36:00.003-04:00

Two weeks went by without you, and finally, two days ago we met again. Our meeting, let me describe it in two words. Dark chocolate. Our conversation was sweet, and we were sweet to each other. And yet, an air of bitterness hung in the air, above our steaming cups of tea, a quietly persistent reminder of how not too long ago, our conversations were constantly plagued with questions, whose answers I could not bear to hear.

There is someone else I care about now, and for once, I'm going to let my head rule my life. I have placed too much trust in this thing called instinct. And it has let me down.

So I guess, this is where we part. Somewhere on a leafy street, in front of your car, one sunny late afternoon in July.

My summer temper

2008-06-12T00:41:00.003-04:00

Being a very competent klutz, naturally I hate it when people place their shoes where they are not supposed to be. Like right in the middle of the room. It might make a great home video, but somersaulting in the dark over somebody's stinky sneakers isn't something I want to do on a regular basis.

So as you can tell, I'm on a whingey mood. So here goes the rest.

For the first time in my 28 years, I have hay fever. Gee, thanks Montreal. It started last weekend. I got out of the house in the afternoon and right away, I was greeted with swirls and twirls of pollen. There was so much of it and I kid you not, the city looked like a giant cotton candy machine. But if the real cotton candy gives you toothache, this cotton candy gives you a blocked nose, watery eyes, sore throat, and a very, very cranky Karina.

I'm also pissed off with my apartment. First, the dryer broke down. Then, the fridge became unreliably warm when the temperature swelled. And here's the worst part, my bedroom - that pretty little room, and the only reason why I'm staying in this shit hole - was unable to defend itself from the heat. It became so hot inside that I didn't even dare turn on any kind of lighting for fear of setting the whole place ablaze.

Oh well, at least tomorrow's Thursday.

Blast from the past

2008-05-23T23:38:00.003-04:00

I was in bed a few nights ago, seconds away from falling asleep. Then suddenly, I found myself in the bedroom my sister and I used to share when we were little. There was a single bed on the left hand side of the rectangle-shaped room. Across it, a brown study desk. I was sitting on the floor in between, and so was my sister. I was playing with one of those toys that taught children to recognize shapes. There was a red plastic cube box whose six sides were adorned with cut-outs of shapes. A square, a rectangle, a circle, an octagon, a crescent moon, and a star.

The door opened and in poked my parents' heads. My mother spoke and I looked up.

"We are leaving now, so grandma will stay with you tonight, is that okay, dears?" I didn't know where they were going and I didn't ask. My sister might have said something to them, though I was too busy with my toy to pay attention.

The door closed and not long after, the front gate creaked open, letting out my dad's car, and creaked back closed. I wasn't aware of it then, but it was the last night that I was the youngest child in the house. The date was October 8th, 1985.

My dad came home the next day, my mum a few days after. More than eight thousand days have come and gone since then, including the day my grandmother left and never returned.

Funny how randomly the brain picks which memory to surface.

What a difference Doraemon makes

2008-05-05T19:45:00.006-04:00

Just in case anybody's wondering, I had a nice weekend. The weather from Saturday morning onwards was not agreeable but thankfully I had a lovely companion to spend time with indoors.

We didn't do much. We just played the role of couch potatoes pretty much all weekend long. What impressed me was that he could sing some of the lines from the Candy Candy theme song. Apparently Candy Candy was really big in Belgium. He didn't know about Doraemon, however, and when I showed him an episode on YouTube, he didn't really like it. But, "I enjoyed watching you enjoy it, though." Wow, this guy is good.

And just for the record, the theme song for the weekend was "What a Difference a Day Makes".

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

Despite all that loveliness, I am still at a loss, thinking about what had gone wrong that had brought me to this point. I'm not in a bad situation or anything, but this was certainly not what I had in mind a few weeks ago.

Still, I'm loving this city. And with spring well underway, there is no reason for me to be sad or think about the what-could-have-beens. Besides, sooner or later, they* will all eventually disappoint, anyway.

*men.

Kepleset

2008-04-30T18:37:00.003-04:00

Ceritanya gua sekarang kerja jadi HR interviewer. Bukan untuk merekrut orang, tapi untuk melakukan background checks. You know, making sure crooks are not being hired...

I really enjoy doing this job because, hey, I get to talk all day long. That is so me, don't you think? Walaupun maap, blog ini jadi makin jarang di-update, terutama sejak 'krisis' sekitar dua minggu yang lalu yang ngga cuma menyurutkan nafsu makan, tapi juga nafsu nge-blog, dan nafsu-nafsu lainnya. Alhamdulilah semua nafsu tersebut sekarang sudah hampir pulih. *berdehem*

Sialnya, lidah gua tuh lumayan sering kepleset (keturunan dari nyokap). A jadi B dan B jadi A.

So far, here are my top three embarrassing tongue slips:

Original question: "So what was his reason for leaving?"
What came out: "So what was his reason for living?"

kenape sih bhs inggris mesti bunyinya mirip-mirip? ih rese deh...

Original question: "So how would you describe his temperament?"
What came out: "So how would you describe his temperature?"

pada saat itu gua pingin lari sekenceng-kencengnya menuju jendela dan terjun bebas ke lantai dasar...

Original line: "I'd really appreciate if if you could call me back on..."
What came out: "I'd really appreciate if if you could kill me..."

at least i was being polite about it...

To settle or to wrestle, that is the question

2008-04-27T17:22:00.003-04:00

So it has been over a month since I touched down on this country with a working visa. And it has been three weeks since I started 'normal life' again. My whole existence is once again regulated by that cruel little bitch called time.

I don't know. Is it the job? Or is it the boyfriend? Or "boyfriend"? That term has been a little fuzzy lately.

Either way, that little voice inside me is starting to get noisy. It's starting to spread its arms and legs and rudely kick me in the gut, all the while screaming, "I want to get out!"

WHAT?

But I just got in!

Ok. I have to fight hard this time. Boredom is my biggest enemy and I shall fight it earnestly. I can't do nothing about the job - I need some money to live after all - but the rest can be negotiated.

Let me think about that this week.

Mmm new man

2008-04-27T16:36:00.002-04:00

Mati satu tumbuh seribu.
Habis gelap terbitlah terang.
The best way to get over a man is to get under another... et voilà!

But seriously, between this one and I, we have some freaky things in common:

1. On the night we met at this party, we brought the same kind of beer. It was St-Ambroise de blé à l'abricot. Granted, it was a fruity-themed party, but we were the only two who actually applied the rule to the kind of alcohol brought to the table.
2. That favorite picture of mine, the painting Nighthawks by Edward Hopper, once hung on the wall of his old apartment in Brussels.
3. We have the same favorite chips, right down to the brand name. Onion & sour cream rings, by Noname. We were grocery shopping on Friday night and when he saw what was in my basket, he was like, "Mais non!"
4. My birthday is 1212, his 0707.

Alright, so there are only four. It seemed like a lot before I wrote them out. Nevertheless... interesting.

Has anybody seen my grip?

2008-04-16T02:15:00.003-04:00

The ghost of him lingers and suddenly I'm too afraid to go back to sleep. This will pass, I know. But in the meantime, this state of mind hurts like a bastard. It's even starting to get beyond the mind, no kidding. I realise that happiness is partly a will to be happy, because how else could it be that I could be so content and cruising about life one minute and cursing it the next?

Boy, I need to get a grip.

I was alright, really alright, before you came along. For awhile you fed me love. For awhile you fed me hope. But like the waves that come crashing in the sea, life turns up and down before my very eyes. And I'm struggling to stand up, unable to keep up.

New blog

2008-04-01T15:58:00.002-04:00

If bored married couples have babies to keep their marriage alive, unemployed people blog to keep the boredom at bay. So with that theory in mind, I'm happy to announce that I just gave birth to a new blog.

Old St-Hubert

2008-03-31T19:39:00.008-04:00

One of my favorite things to do is trying different routes to get to a place. It often makes a dull walk interesting.

So today I took Rue St-Hubert to walk home from the city. This has to be one of the best streets in Montreal for house-watching. You know, like people watching; only this time it's the houses that are watching you walk past.

The houses here, they're not mansions, and they're old as hell, but they have this aura around them that make your head brim with imagination about who live in them, what their bedrooms look like, whether they have clandestine lovers, and what they'll cook for dinner tonight.

The weather was premenstrual today, forlorn and all, but hopefully these pictures will make you understand what I meant.

And this, is what ruined my otherwise enjoyable house-watching. Don't you just hate it when people dress like that? The picture might suggest that I'm exaggerating - bitchy even - but trust me, this girl neeeeeeds a spoonful of good taste.

Doin' just fine

2008-03-29T21:38:00.006-04:00

While wiping the ***hole after doing the number 2 this evening, I observed something rather strange.

There's a shred of carrot in my turd. Or something that resembles it anyway. I didn't go so far as picking it out and verifying its identity - 'cos that's just gross, alright?

Don't worry about me, though. I just thought I'd share that with you.

Don't make me watch this video again

2008-03-27T18:41:00.004-04:00

OMIGOD OMIGOD. Right now I'm really hating Islam. Like, really. As a proponent of freedom and democracy, what I really want for Christmas this year is for that religion to be demolished and banned from this planet.

Thanks to this video.

Wow. Propaganda really works, eh?

Ohhh I'm so sad... why do they hate us so much just because we're different? Ohhh... this is worse than racism.

One bike, many bruises

2008-03-27T17:50:00.000-04:00

So I bought a bike yesterday. At this bike recycling shop that also sells pinball machines dating from the 70's and, apparently, weed. I wonder if there's a correlation between the three.

"Did you smell anything while you were there?" GZ asked me afterwards. He knew that place since his friend the drug addict is a regular customer there. But apart from rubber and that distinctive yet inexplicable smell of junk, no, I didn't get a whiff of anything else. I guess I can never be part of a police drug squad, then.

But anyway, the bike is extremely cute, complete with a rearview mirror and a front basket. Not sure how old it is, though there are some rusty parts. Its main colour is golden brown; even the saddle is brown.

All that cuteness couldn't save me from trouble though. Riding it home for the first time from the shop - which was far far away in the city south - I fell twice and almost got hit by a car once, in between which the words "fuck", "ngehe", "anjing" and their varieties could be heard from my direction.

What do people do, anyway, when they fall off their bikes? Do they laugh at themselves to minimise the embarrassment? Or do they pretend nobody saw it? When I fell yesterday, in front of about 5 people at a bus stop and Jesus knows how many cars, I could see that those people were trying hard not to crack up. Some even looked away, kinda hoping I suppose, that I didn't see their faces, to make me feel less embarrassed. Man, I felt so sorry for myself that I almost wished I was dead.

I'll get better, you'll see.

It's not me, it's you, yes you

2008-03-26T02:43:00.005-04:00

Tonight is not amazing at all. The cracks are starting to show. Could I have reacted differently? Perhaps. But then, that wouldn't have been me.

On the other hand, it's 2008. Maybe I'll be nice this year and see what happens. Either that, or I'll keep reminding myself that guys are stupid and insensitive and that I should forgive them for those shortcomings. After all, they're built that way, ya know?

GEEZ.

Guys, stop using these lines, right now:

"Do you want me to leave?"
If we really want you to leave, we would have said so. Stop trying to read what women are thinking. That's not something men are ever capable of. Oh wait, is this just another one of your lame escape routes?

"But I have had such a long day."
We all had to live through the same number of hours today. Just because yours felt longer doesn't mean you can start acting like a 2 year-old and like, piss us off, in the process.

"Are you jealous?"
Rule number 1. If men ever have to ask that question, the answer is always yes. We're women. We're built that way. No further explanation required.

Cari kerja

2008-03-20T17:43:00.003-04:00

Kemarin job interview untuk yang pertama kalinya sejak pertengahan tahun lalu. 2 lawan 1. Kemampuan nge-bullshit gua sedikit karatan dan gua cengengesan di dalam ruangan. Mudah-mudahan kesan yang membekas di dua orang itu adalah gua anak yang ramah, bukannya dodol dan gak serius. We'll see, we'll see.

Boo!

2008-03-17T15:30:00.002-04:00

This is my first official day of unvoluntary unemployment. Yup, I am no longer on holidays (although the visa I'm on is called Working Holiday Visa), and starting today I'll be throwing my resume around town.

On one side, I am looking forward to having a 'normal' life again where I can actually sound normal when people ask me, "So what do you do?". On the other, I am dreading the thought of having to subscribe to a schedule day after day, week after week, month after month, again. Oh humanity! Thinking about it makes me feel jittery, goosebumpy, and nauseous. Just awful, basically.

But I guess I can't live on my savings forever. I'm not that rich. Nor are the parents. Lol.

It is times like this that I wish the world operated a la Jacques Fresco. A moneyless economy. A society where people don't have to do jobs just to earn a living. A society where people live to learn and do things that interest them without having to worry that their wallets will get undernourished.

No, I'm not an idealist. I'm just lazy. And I'm trying to justify it.

Ensemble, c'est tout

2008-03-14T22:21:00.000-04:00

Masih jetlagged. Buanget. Tipe kebangun jam 1.30 pagi dan nggak bisa tidur lagi sampai jem 10. Selera makan juga ikut-ikutan kacau. Tapi untung ke belakang masih lancar, kekekek, I'm sure you wanna know about that. Yah inilah efek samping pergi ke belahan dunia yang lain.

But that's just a minor matter; it's a (bad) habit of mine to start a blog entry with a whinge. Because right here, right now, I'm happy. All the things that were hanging over my head during the last six weeks are no longer. Separation is indeed the best medicine, sometimes.

"How long do you think before we get sick of each other?" I asked him while we were reading in bed last night.

"A couple of weeks," he said with that trademark serious look of his. "Love is fickle."

He's probably right. But I'm not worried about that. I'm still too busy playing this new game and enjoying being his 'petite poule'.

Instant Karma

2008-03-08T05:38:00.006-05:00

Tadi sore gua melihat fenomena luar biasa. Ada orang yang bentuk badannya seperti kodok. Badannya bulet, kedua kakinya kurus, dan semua itu dibalut baju senam ketat. Yang terjadi selanjutnya adalah gua mulai membayangkan orang tersebut sedang melompat dari papan terjun kolam renang. Syuuut! Bagi gua sih itu lucu (banget).

Tapi Tuhan itu memang adil. Dan karma itu bukan hanya nama.

Karena barusan gua diberakin burung.

Giliran nyokap dan adik gua yang ketawa. "Tadi dia ngata-ngatain orang, sekarang di-e-e-in burung, hahaha!"

Untung cuma kena celana pendek gua dan bukan kepala gua. Well this is another reason why I want to leave this country. There are so many freaking seagulls here! And to think that this is the third time this lawlessness has happened to me.

Cerita gua belum selesai.

Barusan, ketika gua nyari-nyari gambar kodok di google untuk mendukung blog entry gua kali ini, gua menemukan gambar ini:

The keyword that I entered was 'human frog'. I guess I got what I asked for. Oh God, this image will haunt me forever. I'm really being punished. You can read the story here, but I hope it's just a hoax by someone who's really good at Photoshop.

S is for Suspense

2008-03-06T18:03:00.003-05:00

Dari kemarin gua deg-degan gak karuan. Kayak orang abis minum Red Bull tiga kaleng. Tidur gak nyenyak, bangun super cepat. Jadi inget waktu SD, sehari sebelum terima raport. Hihihi, ngomong-ngomong dulu tuh gua lugu banget, kalau udah mo deket-deket terima raport, pasti isi-isi doa sebelum (dan sesudah) tidur gua bunyinya begini, "Tuhan, saya mohon supaya dapet ranking 1." Kalau dipikir-pikir, mungkin itu akar dari ketidakpercayaan gua dengan doa-doaan, karena dalam 6 tahun doa itu hanya terkabul sekali saja!

So there you go my friends, yang penting adalah usaha, bukan doa. God is just an observer who'll laugh at you when you fall on your ass.

Hari ini Jumat. Besok Sabtu. Lusa Minggu. (Yeah I know, this paragraph is lame.)

Setiap menit yang berlalu,
membawa aku lebih dekat dengan kamu.
Sampai ketemu hari Rabu,
jangan lupa jemput aku!

Splash!

2008-03-06T17:23:00.003-05:00

Untuk urusan yang ngga-ngga, orang Indonesia memang paling jagonya (nggak heran gua jadi begini). Seperti yang kita semua udah tau, besarnya masalah transportasi di Jakarta tuh udah lebih dari luar biasa. Mobil pribadi terlalu banyak, sementara kendaraan umum terlalu sedikit - itu pun mayoritas udah pada reyot dan nggak layak untuk menyambut turis-turis yang diharapkan bakal datang tahun depan dalam rangka Visit Indonesia Year 2009. Get real!

Nah, salah satu masalah yang lagi diributin adalah penumpang liar di kereta api kota. Liar dalam arti bukan hanya nggak bayar, tapi duduknya di atap kereta, jadi membahayakan diri sendiri dan orang lain juga (karena dulu sempat ada atap yang jebol).

Karena usaha konvensional - seperti teguran atau jeweran - untuk memberantas hal ini tidak mempan, petugas-petugas kerapi itu akhirnya dapet ide cemerlang. Gak mau turun? Kita siram saja mereka dengan cat! Ini berita lengkapnya.

I wonder what SBY has to say about this!

Probably nothing, as usual.

Well that's Indonesia for you. A country where symptoms, and not the causes, are treated. A country where riding on the roof of trains can turn into a giant paintball party.

Hari ini dan beres-beres

2008-03-04T07:19:00.007-05:00

Ada yang bikin hati berbunga-bunga hari ini. Dia bilang,

La seule chose qui m'a nui c'était ton absence. Reviens-moi vite SVP.

Gak percaya gua bacanya tadi siang. Ternyata si nyolot itu bisa mewek juga.

Malam ini gua memasuki tahap packing yang terakhir. Koper gua udah penuh! Padahal tas toiletries yang gemuk itu belum masuk. Beha kolor belum masuk juga (tapi untung yang ini gak makan banyak tempat... if you know me you'll know what I mean). Dan ohhh buku french grammar (peninggalan French101 di Usyd) yang bobotnya dijamin ampuh untuk ngebocorin kepala anak orang. Pupuslah harapan untuk membawa beraneka ragam beads yang tadinya gua pikir bakal berguna sekali untuk dijadikan kado ultah teman-teman (cewek) disana.

Inilah alasan mengapa gua yakin gua bukan reinkarnasi Noah yang dari alkitab itu. Bocor kali kapalnya kalau gua yg mesti nge-pak!

Barang-barang yang terpaksa gua tinggal di Sydney:
- Raket tenis
- Sepatu bowling
- Jam weker
- Guling
- Novel-novel Haruki Murakami
- 2 x figurine Precious Moments yang gua sayang banget

Oh harta benda... mengapa engkau harus ada?

She completes him

2008-03-03T18:18:00.004-05:00

Bertahun-tahun berlalu, dan gua masih rajin baca blog (walaupun frekuensinya sekarang sudah jauh lebih rendah). Pagi ini gua membuka blog yang udah lama nggak gua kunjungi dan menemui tulisan ini:

I must be the luckiest person on earth to have you.

As a wife, lover, and most of all, as a best friend.I still remember what I promised you 5 years ago, during our engaged day. I said that I would give you the world. Or die trying to. And yet what I found was,

Orang yang gak minta banyak.
Gak minta apa-apa malah.
Orang yang selalu ada di samping gua.
Orang yang nerima diri gua yang angkuh dan rendah ini, apa adanya.

Kamu, yang tidak pernah minta prada.
Kamu, yang tidak pernah meninggalkan butiran nasi di atas piring.
Kamu, yang masih mengucap syukur di saat kita susah.

Kamu, alasan saya selalu bergegas ke rumah.
kamu, alasan saya bergegas ke kantor.
Kamu, alasan saya kuat menghadapi apa pun di dunia ini.

Thank you for standing by me.
Thank you for these 4 years.
Thank you for loving me.

I love you. Everyday.

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

Tanpa gua sadari, mata gua jadi basah karena terharu. Sampai bulu mata gua ada yang copot dan nyemplung ke mangkok cereal yang baru setengah dimakan.

One day, I want to have a relationship like that. I want to want to accept him for who he is and who he wants to be. I want to want to stand by him. I want to want to thank him for loving me.

I want to be able to say, "I love you. Everyday." Even if I'll never know what love means.

Aku ingin begini, aku ingin begitu

2008-03-03T08:55:00.006-05:00

Oh susahnya naikin berat badan. Kenapa gua nggak diciptakan sempurna seperti Heidi Klum??? Pffft...

Hehehe... banyak maunya deh. Maklum, udah jem 1 malem, pikiran udah mulai jalan-jalan ke hutan rimba yang penuh mara bahaya.

Ceritanya gua lagi mulai rutin minum protein shake lagi, karena 7 kilo ekstra yang berhasil gua raih tahun lalu sudah lenyap selama dua minggu pertama gua di Montreal, dimana gua yang terlalu pelit untuk beli tiket bis bersedia berjalan kaki kemana-mana. Nyusut lagi deh gua kayak balon yang umurnya udah tiga hari, walaupun ada hikmahnya juga karena sekarang pengetahuan jalan gua gak kalah sama supir taksi disana. So listen up all you overweight people out there: walking everywhere will help you lose weight!

Pokoknya tahun ini gua banyak maunya. Mau ndutin badan. Mau lebih jujur pada diri sendiri. Mau lebih rajin latihan nulis. Mau cari temen yang banyak. Mau bersikap dewasa dalam hubungan cewek-cowok (hayo lho, maksudnya apa tuh?). Mau lebih giat belajar masak (biar hubungan cewek-cowok makin lancar, hahaha!). Mau memperlicin bahasa Prancis (biar bisa ngobrol sama cowok Prancis yang kece-kece, amin!). Dan lain-lain.

If you have known me for a long time, you'll notice that that list is so different from my previous 'To do' lists. Especially number 4, 5, and 6. KW, the arrogant, emotionally self-sufficient (or so she thinks), "I can live without other people" bitch wants to make more friends? Wtf?

I guess people really do change, huh?

Say good night, not good bye

2008-03-01T01:23:00.004-05:00

Sekarang ini lagi musimnya good bye. Sejak gua pulang, hampir setiap acara yg gua hadiri pasti ada hubungannya dengan farewell. Dan itu semua membuat gua capek. Karena ngucapin 'bye-bye' itu bikin gua sedih, walaupun acaranya sendiri nggak (justru kebalikannya).

Tinggal satu lagi acara farewell: makan malam minggu depan di bungalow8, untuk gua dan Eva yang mau pindah ke Hong Kong.

Gua... nggak... pingin... datang. (Andaikan tiket pesawat gua bertanggalkan Senin besok.)

Just reflecting

2008-02-27T01:27:00.004-05:00

Hari-hari gua di Sydney hanya tinggal sesaat. Cieeee laganya kaya udah divonis kanker stadium 4. Hush ngaco.

Tapi gua emang ga bohong, bentar lagi gua bakal cabut lagi. Perasaan baru kemaren malem nyampe di airport. Keluar dari baggage claim, jalan ke bus stop (soalnya gak ada nyambut dengan karangan bunga beserta boneka teddy bear, dan gak ada pula yg nanya, "Eh ntar ada yang jemput gak?") dan nongkrong disono nungguin bis 400 sambil dengerin Organ Donor-nya DJ Shadow.

Terus terang, gua lumayan sedih juga bakal ninggalin tempat ini beserta isi-isinya (termasuk adik gua yang nyebelin). Karena gua merasa, walaupun so pasti gua bakal datang lagi ke Sydney, gua gak bakal balik lagi 'kesini'. Karena lembaran-lembaran hidup gua disini sudah habis. Sudah waktunya gua tutup buku - walaupun mohon jgn disamakan dengan gulung tikar.

Dan ortu gua pun semakin tua. (Rada-rada ga nyambung emang paragraf ke-4 ini, tapi ya semau gua dong.)

I guess all these things + the fact that I'm unemployed and using up my savings fast are making me a little bit melancholic right now.

Mood Update (because I want to)

2008-02-26T17:59:00.004-05:00

After all those miserable (bordering on desperate) entries in the last couple of weeks - many of which have been taken offline since because they have the potential to ruin my cool chick reputation - I am pleased to announce that I'm no longer miserable (nor bordering on desperate).

Ternyata kita berdua tuh emang gengsinya segede gentong (walaupun gentong gua jauh lebih kecil dan imut).

Yang lucu hari ini

2008-02-25T08:05:00.003-05:00

Karina says: lo ngapain aja nih
Yao says: kerja, poker, kerja, poker
Yao says: n kerja sambil poker
Yao says: hihi..
Karina says: online apa beneran?
Yao says: fesbuk
Karina says: ohh yg itu
Yao says: lo ga?
Karina says: hahaha mendingan ngga de
Karina says: ntar gw jadi candu jg
Yao says: saking addictive nya gua boker aja maen poker
Karina says: GROSS DUDEEEEEEEEE

Dan pada saat itu, gua baru nyadar... BOKER ITU NGE-RHYME SAMA POKER <--- asal ngucapin 'poker'nya dimirip-miripin sama pas ngucapin 'boker'.

Yang bikin gua ngakak hari ini

2008-02-24T03:45:00.004-05:00

Karina says: Eh loe mo ketemu si Joni* gak?
Karina says: sapa tau makan dibayarin hauhauhua
sumiPan says: males gw nanti dicium dia jadi kodok
Karina says: hauhuahuahua apa coba
sumiPan says: gw ga kenal jg sama dia
sumiPan says: bibirnya kan kaya empal

*nama samaran

Sejak kapan bibir orang kayak empal jadi alasan untuk nggak mau ketemu? Kejamnya manusiaaaaaaaa :P

The greatest love story (is not mine)

2008-02-23T18:42:00.006-05:00

My boy of the moment
is not that great with words
he belts out one-liners
even when I've written him a prose

What am I supposed to do
when you are there and I am here
words are all we've got
and you can't even give me that

Yesterday you said you weren't feeling well
I say... "RASAIN LO! Nyebelin sih!"

TGIF

2008-02-23T07:00:00.004-05:00

Pasti deh. Tiap kali keluar sama anak-anak Challenger pasti pulang-pulang gua udah gak utuh. Sekrup-sekrup di badan pada copot sana sini. Asli tadi siang gua shitfaced banget. Jalan sempoyongan, isi perut pada muter-muter seperti di mesin cuci, dan yang paling bikin gua mau gantung diri... di dalam kepala serasa lagi ada marching band. Sengsara! Derita! Malapetaka!

Tapi yang pasti... semalam gua senaaaaaaang ;)

Definitely leaving on the 10th

2008-02-19T09:42:00.004-05:00

Paid for my ticket today. One-way ticket to heaven. Ecstatic is how I am. And impatient. All the things I need are already inside the suitcase. I'm almost ready to go (again). This time I probably won't be back for a long long time.

Dreamer

2008-02-18T18:18:00.005-05:00

Last night I had a dream.

I was back in Montréal, in my room preparing my CV to apply for a job. A dull dream in any case.

Still, waking up from it was so uncool.

Oleh-oleh dari Kanada

2008-02-17T18:27:00.003-05:00

Tiga bulan dua minggu di Kanada. Karena gua pulang dengan tangan hampa, dalam artian gak bawa oleh-oleh yang biasanya berupa gantungan kunci, magnet kulkas, atau t-shirt, oleh-olehnya dalam bentuk cerita aja ya?

Gua sampai di Montréal hari Kamis, bulan Oktober 2007. Hari itu di Boston subuh-subuh banget gua udah bangun (subuhnya gua tuh jem 6...). Dari rumah temen gua jalan kaki sekitar 15 menit ke stasiun Harvard Square. Di luar masih semi gelap dan sedikit berkabut. Tas beroda satu, tas laptop satu. Kali ini gua lebih pinter ngatur barang bawaan biar ga heboh sendiri kayak pedagang kelontong keliling versi taon lalu di Eropa.

Perjalanan pakai bis dari Boston ke Montréal memakan waktu sekitar tujuh jam. Pertama-tama melalui highway - sedikit bosan - tapi gak lama kita udah meluncur di jalanan yang kanan kirinya hutan yang cantik banget pohon-pohonnya, berhubung waktu itu musim gugur. Sibuk deh gue potret sana sini dari balik kaca jendela... gak pernah sih ngeliat pohon yg warna daunnya pink semua! Sayangnya si supir bis rada ngebut jadi kebanyakan foto-foto tersebut akhirnya berakhir di tong sampah juga. Yang penting memori dong memori...

Berbekal instruksi dari Lana (flatmate gua disana), dari stasiun Berri-Uqam gua pun naik metro ke Place-des-Arts, dan dari sono naik bis 80 sampe ke rumah. Ada kejadian nyebelin disini. Pas gua naik bis, si supir kagak punya kembalian, padahal duit gua cuma $5, dan tiketnya $2.75. Siake. Mau gak mau turunlah gua dan dua anak gua, masuk lagi ke stasiun, dan nyari duit kecil.

Rumah gua disitu terletak di Avenue du Parc (atau bisa juga disebut Park Avenue). Gua sih lebih suka nyebut dengan nama yang pertama, biar kedengeran lebih sexy. Parc ini panjang banget dan, menurut instruksi si Lana, gua mesti pencet bel setelah ngelewatin Rue St-Viateur. Kedengerannya gampang kan? Iya gampang emang sebenernya... kalo elo bisa baca jauh. Masalahnya, gagang kacamata gua bengkok dan gak bisa dipake secara layak. Mesti dipegangin. Jadinya tiap kali gua ngeliat bakal ada nama jalanan di depan baru gua pake itu kacamata. St-Viateur bukan nih? Oh bukan. Copot lagi. Ulangi kira-kira sepuluh kali.

Gak lama akhirnya gua nyampe juga. Reaksi gua pertama kali (dalam hati) pas masuk ke rumah adalah, "Walah gua masuk ke sarang hippies!" Di salah satu sudut ruang tamu ada sekumpulan tanaman berbagai jenis. Di salah satu sudut yang lain ada berbaris-baris piringan hitam. Di atas kulkas ada patung kepala Elvis yang sorot matanya rada... nyeremin. Namanya juga Elvis, and Elvis is dead! Untungnya kamar gua ga nyeremin. Untuk pertama kalinya dalam hidup gua, gua punya ranjang loft! Seneng banget gua. Pasalnya waktu gua masih ingusan, gua sering banget melobi bokap nyokap untuk beli ranjang susun. Yang lebih oke lagi, di atas ranjang sono ada tempat kecil untuk membaca, dimana ada rak buku kecil-kecilan dan lampu. Imut banget deh, serasa di rumah pohon.

Malam pertama di Montréal gua pergi ke semacam Poetry Reading Evening di Sala Rosa, sebuah restoran Spanyol di Blvd St-Laurent, bareng dua flatmate baru gua. Yang bikin acara itu adalah anak-anak dari University of Concordia. Walhasil disana gua cuci mata.

Malam itu cuaca di Montréal menyenangkan, sekitar 20 derajat. Dalam perjalanan pulang kita mampir di dépanneur (istilah lokal untuk convenience store) dan Chesky's, toko kue milik orang Yahudi yang bikin cheesecake enak banget.

to be continued...

This blog is turning into one big soppy diary

2008-02-17T06:13:00.009-05:00

There was a snow storm the day before I left. A big one. The kind that discouraged people from driving. So you and I trekked from your place to mine. It was Friday afternoon.

We went through this park near your house. The snow on our sides has piled as high as my knee.

I said, "Let's race!" So I started counting... three, two, one, go!

You were about two metres in front of me when I saw you suddenly turn around, ran back, and in what seemed like a flash, pushed me into a snow bank. I screamed in protest. "How could you!" And you laughed your ass off.

It was a cruel re-enactment of a David and Goliath fight, only this time the writer decided that luck wouldn't be on David's side. Finally, you pulled me out of the snow and then... you put your arms around me and we stayed there for awhile.

If there was ever a moment I want frozen in time, I would vote for that one.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

(Geez I need to get out of the house)

Clean Up My Room Day

2008-02-17T02:33:00.005-05:00

You don't really know yourself until you have to... pack your life.

In preparation for the move to Montréal next month, I have started to clear out my room, which will be occupied by a new person tomorrow. It's not a big room but it sure can hold a lot of things, a fact that I have been discovering minute by painful minute today. It's not the room's fault, of course, but I wish there had been a device that screamed, "Throw that out!" everytime somebody (mostly me) placed some innocent-looking potential junk in it.

The good thing about today's cleanup is that I haven't found it difficult to throw things out. Gone are those clothes that I have not worn for at least two years. Gone are those undies that don't look like undies anymore (don't ask). Gone are those piles of papers that told a story about my past life (among others outdated CV's, payslips from eight years ago, boarding passes, and greeting cards from the nearby video rental store - wow they remembered my birthday... I must've been special!).

I am still twiddling my thumb over my massive collection of accessories though. I have tons of earrings... awww my pretty little babies, but I think I have to let you go!

So the onslaught continues tonight. Who will go? Who will stay?

Giant swimming pool with waves

2008-02-17T01:43:00.005-05:00

Just because I'm leaving Australia doesn't mean I don't like it anymore. The place itself, is beautiful beyond words. I mean look, I live 10 minutes away from this.

Did I get the date right?

2008-02-15T19:06:00.002-05:00

Hahaha gua baru nyadar kalo di post sebelomnya gua bilang "baru tanggal 16 februari" padahal tanggalan post-nya menunjukkan 15 februari. Bingung deh lo pada! Bukannya gua salah baca kalender, tapi gara-gara date settingnya di blog ini belum disesuaikan balik sama waktu Sydney.

Ya udeh, gitu doang, I just thought I'd better clear that one up... ga tenang gua kalo ngga.

Pake bhs Indo biar tu org ga ngerti

2008-02-15T18:45:00.003-05:00

Barusan ngeliat kalender. Ya ilah, baru tanggal 16 Februari.

Kangen bo, kangen.

Today...
the minutes seem like hours
the hours go so slowly
and still the sky is light...

Ceileh pake nge-quote2 dari West Side Story segala. Padahal cuman kangen geblek a la anak abg, there's nothing Broadway about my silly little fling. Yah begini deh nasib gua. Jauh-jauh ke Kanada untuk menemukan (dan mengukuhkan!) kebebasan, tau-taunya kecantol sama lebah lokal.

Ya sud sud... that's it for now... lagi ga ada bahan pembicaraan yg lebih menarik, cuma lagi pingin ngoceh2 aja somewhere, somehow.

Happy Valentine's Day, suckers

2008-02-14T18:19:00.007-05:00

It seems that everytime I read an Indonesian news website, I am reminded as to why I probably will never go back to that country to live. There are just too many idiots trying to call the shots there. And usually, about unimportant matters.

Like Valentine's Day, for example.

Here are some quotes which will either piss you off or make you laugh (or both).

"To celebrate this day that's called "love one another" day is against the principles of Islam." 'Cos like... Islam preaches hate?

"Valentine's Day is not compatible with our culture, [because] during such celebrations usually there are people kissing and hugging, which is sinful." Almost everything in Indonesia is sinful. Except spitting in the streets and taking a dump in the river.

"We have asked mosque officials to hold religious lectures for teenagers on Valentine's Day evening." Lame, dude! With our raging hormones we'd rather go somewhere else to, you know, kiss and hug.

"Our version of Valentine's Day should fall on the 28th of October because it was on that day that a bunch of young people declared their love for this nation." This suggestion could only have come from a nerd who never had a girlfriend and who took their primary school history books seriously.

*Indonesia's national day to commemorate a declaration made in 1928 by young Indonesian nationalists, proclaiming their nationalist principles.

That country is seriously fucked.

Home is where... my junk is

2008-02-12T08:45:00.001-05:00

As we were flying closer and closer to the ground, I spotted a very familiar-looking brown tower on the horizon. Though not legible from where I was sitting, I knew that the tower bore the letters U, N, S, W.

The longest holiday of my life has officially ended.

Everything at home was still where it was when I left it four months ago. Including that picture next to my bed. But that's so insignificant compared to what has changed. And I don't ever want to go back to where I was. The worst is over and I can only look forward to better times ahead. Better times, indeed! And no one... not even some wonderful, handsome, funny, tall, short-haired dude with glasses (and commitment issues), can ruin that. I will take care of myself this year very well.

I just wish these coming 3 weeks will disappear tonight while I'm asleep.

Be afraid... be very afraid.

2008-02-10T10:12:00.001-05:00

While browsing on the internet, fate stepped in (through an uninvited pop-up) and presented me with that sinister-looking plastic cup.

The Mooncup Menstrual Cup.

I wonder how many women have ordered that thing online, given that the woman in the picture does nothing for their advertising campaign. I mean look at her, her smile is screaming, "I've got a foreign object stuck in my canal and it ain't cool!"

Hate list V.1

2008-02-09T21:08:00.000-05:00

1. Magazines that publish articles like "10 Signs He's Into You". The problem is that such guides usually leave us women more perplexed than ever. What if my man only shows 9 of the 10 signs? Does that mean I shouldn't marry him?

2. Singapore Airlines flight attendants who are extra nice to white men. I swear it's a brothel up there.

3. Men who pee carelessly in aeroplane toilets and leave their traces behind all over the seat and the floor. Fine I know the turbulence makes it harder to aim, but those paper towels are there to be used. If you happen to be one of those, here's a big fuck you to you.

4. People taking a dump in public toilets who wait until they're finished to flush the whole thing down, by which time their floating babies have had plenty of time to stink up the room. If your objective is to save water, copy the dogs and do it in your backyard.

5. People who update their status on Facebook every half an hour. Nobody cares that much about you, seriously.

It seems like yesterday

2008-02-09T09:32:00.001-05:00

Once we were at this wine & cheese party. I complained to you that I didn't like wine. I said, "I'd much rather have beer". You asked me what my favorite beer was. "Corona," I replied. Then you left. A few minutes later you came back. With a 6-pack of Corona.

You probably do that to all your friends (because you're lovely like that), but still, that gesture will never be lost on me.

I miss you. Tu me manques. Saya kangen kamu.

Living with less

2008-01-25T11:47:00.000-05:00

Last year just before I left for Canada I made a pact with the devil. I mean myself. It was to keep my posessions to a minimum.

Only keep clothes, shoes, and accessories that I wear on a regular basis.
Only keep digital music (no more CD's but I will keep my cassettes - these things played a role in defining who I am, after all)
Only keep books I plan to re-read in the future, or at least those that have really changed my life (among those "The road less travelled").
Only have one watch.
Only have one bag for each occasion.
Get rid of obsolete mementos (for example, pictures of ex-boyfriends older than 5 years old; the pictures, not the ex-boyfriends).

I haven't applied myself to these rules religiously, especially on Boxing Day when I treated myself to no less than 5 new t-shirts. I'm still struggling with the concept of 'less is more'. But I'm not giving up. Come February, I will clean up my old room (which will be up for rent). I'm turning over a new leaf.

The cold gives me funny thoughts

2008-01-24T16:55:00.000-05:00

I've only known you for one month
I don't know who you are
who you've been
who you're going to be
or who you want to be
But right now I like you
and I think you like me too
I wish we could all function like animals
or Borat (I like you, I like sex)
who don't care less about feelings
and all the by-products that come with them
Maybe this time it'll be different
Maybe this time I'm going to make it right
Maybe this time it won't end with sorry

I don't care if I sound cheesy

2008-01-20T22:38:00.002-05:00

I'm allowed to say anything I want on this blog, even if it does nothing to the embetterment of society. And this is what I want to say, and I'm going to say it because I have no one to talk to right now. Women have this constant need to express themselves, know what I mean?

My boy of the moment is pretty fucking awesome - though he makes me a little nervous sometimes. Wait, maybe that's why he's awesome. Anybody who can rattle my smug little comfort zone must have something special to bring to the table. Ooh and you know what else? He has beautiful eyes :)

I know I know, I am in deep, deep trouble.

On a cold night like tonight

2008-01-04T05:44:00.001-05:00

Bambi eyes was here last night. In fact he just left half an hour ago.

...............................................................

But then what does this all mean?
Am I about to jump into that all-so-familiar territory again?
No, no, and no! I hear myself scream
But life is truly a box of chocolates
and lately it seems that I've been getting only the good ones
My dad warned me about the guys in this city
For once... he's right.

But I don't know his last name

2007-12-30T19:46:00.000-05:00

He is so sweet. A nervous wreck who masks his shyness with noisy, at times completely useless, chatters. Adorable in his own little quirky comfort zone, peering out into the world with that pair of bambi brown eyes (does bambi have brown eyes?).

If this sounds like the writing of someone on the verge of falling in love, then I must be.

(but don’t worry Tim, I’m still set on honouring that promise of being celibate for 1 year. I'm just having a little fun with these butterflies in my stomach.)

This Christmas

2007-12-28T13:42:00.000-05:00

I did it last night.

Yes! Yes! Yes!

If you're thinking When Harry Met Sally, I'm afraid the next few lines will disappoint though. It's not that kind of yes :)

Called the parents last night to say merry christmas and it was, euh, lovely. My dad was unusually fun to talk to and he sounded pretty excited at the prospect of me staying in Montreal next year. Then mum came online...

"Did you go to Christmas mass?"
"Ermm, no."

Immediately I could imagine this giant wave of panic taking over her and hear its powerful crashing sound travelling through the air between us.

Where was I on Christmas eve anyway? Probably boogie-ing the night away - loud, red-faced, and very very happy. Much happier than I would've been had I been at a mass.

But of course, this whole "not attending church because it conflicts with my beliefs and thus it gives me peace" rationale does not make any sense to mum. Not even when I pleaded my case, "But I DO believe in God, it's just not the one called Jesus Christ!"

Mum had seen it coming though, so this time she shot me her last bullet, "But you have been baptised, you're Catholic!"

Too bad for her, because I always have answer for everything. "But I was 1 year old then, I couldn't say no!"

And at that point, she gave up, and not long after, she hung up.

I am pretty sure she won't bug me about going to church again from now on.

Longest holiday of my life

2007-12-18T02:29:00.000-05:00

Oh God. I don't know what it is with this place. It just makes me want to stay, stay and stay. Is it the food? Maybe (poutine is great). Is it the weather? Perhaps (snow is cool). Is it the people? Ow yeah you betcha (Canadians are the best!).

So, looks like KW is staying a bit longer. I'm thinking two years. I know it, I can feel it, this city is the perfect place to spend the last two years of my twenties. And I promise you (whoever you are) that by the end of those two years my tongue will be rolling in french like any Quebecois worth their poutine.

But first, I have to go back to Sydney; take care of a few things, get rid of a lot of things, say good-bye (properly) to a few people.

This will not be good news to my mother.

Pamela Anderson files for divorce

2007-12-17T17:28:00.001-05:00

I got angry when I read this piece of junk - the link is there as reference but don't bother clicking it. I was angry because 1. I was being such a sucker for entertainment news headlines, and 2. people like her have truly bastardised the concept of marriage by making it and divorce - its sequel - seem so easy as if they can be picked off the supermarket shelves. Reason for the failed marriage: irreconcilable differences. A.k.a. lazy.

Of course we all have differences to each other - otherwise we'd all just be carbon copies. But what's irreconcilable? Not being able to adjust to each other's hectic schedule? Not being able to tolerate each other's annoying little habits? Not being able to make a compromise on each other's values? And to think that Pam's marriage is only 70 days-old. Irreconcilable as a word shouldn't even exist. Afterall, there's nothing in this world that cannot be solved - even the cold war eventually ended, right?

I won't be surprised if it was a divorce lawyer who first came up with this so-called irreconcilable differences.

Having said that, I do feel that not all marriages should be saved. Provided that you've tried your very best - and that includes talking things over and reflecting over a period much longer than 70 days - I think that sometimes it's just better for your mind and body to just call the lawyer and get it over and done with. But even in that case, you still shouldn't cite irreconcilable difference as the reason for divorce. Try this: failure to stay in love.

House party at St-Hubert

2007-12-17T10:03:00.000-05:00

Once in awhile something happens that reminds us that we're not invincible. For me that something happened last night.

Oh what a night, oh what a mess!

It turned out - and I found out the painful way - that all those Friday drinks nights at Challenger weren't sufficient training afterall. Three bottles of Boris Cool and three vodka shots later, I passed out on the host' couch, only to be woken up not long after by an urgent wave of the aforementioned liquid travelling up from stomach to throat. The last time I vomited like that was in 1996, on the last day of high school, caused mainly by three shots of tequila (I still remember).

I guess doing things in three's doesn't work well for me.

Nevertheless, there is one positive thing about last night in the form of a new experience that, despite the disgusting image it conjures up, sounds rather cool to me: puking in snow - once you finish, just bury it in more snow to cover up your trail!

Last day of being 27

2007-12-11T09:49:00.001-05:00

There is a reason why I called this blog 27yo.

Nobody is young forever, that I know and accept, but I do want to carry the memories of this very special year forever. Afterall, 2007 is the year that I have finally gained control of my own life. It - whatever it is - no longer tells me what to do, what to say, what to think, and how to do them, though I admit sometimes it comes creeping back in tiny doses (but it's ok sometimes we all need a break from routine).

2007's been a year of shocking revelations. About the world, people, and mostly, about myself. The mind is a powerful thing, you know, and I guess this year I finally managed to turn it on the positive.

That includes, among other things, renouncing the things I have been raised to believe in since childhood. Going to church makes me miserable, so I just stopped. Lying to my mum about going to church makes me miserable, so I just told her so. Honesty is not always the best policy, but sometimes it's the only thing that can save you from going insane with guilt.

Last night while going down the ladder of my loft bed, my foot missed a step and I fell down. My head just nearly missed one of the wooden legs of the bed and the heater. In doing so, however, I have somehow twisted my left upper arm and its adjoining shoulder. In the following five minutes that followed I just sat there shaking, too shocked to move. I was convinced I had broken something, and that it definitely wasn't the bed, nor the floor.

After the pain had subsided to the point where I was finally able to move the poor arm to lift myself off the floor, I took a sip of water - the reason why I went down from the bed at the first place - and went back up. Tucked safely back in bed, I started thinking about those people whose arms had actually been broken. Then I thought about those people who had been in serious car accidents. And then I thought about my late aunt, who died after 30 days sustaining 99% of burns to her body.

At that moment I felt lucky, very lucky. Falling down the stairs is the best birthday present I have ever given to myself.

The meaning of cold

2007-12-01T20:50:00.001-05:00

A bit about Montreal

2007-11-22T22:46:00.000-05:00

Today is the third day I have not seen the sun and vice versa. I'm by no means unique though, as this same fate has also befallen upon the other Vitamin D-deprived faces that are around me. We are all wrapped in layers of wool, down, and polyester, walking as fast as the sloshy snow under our boots allow us to our destinations where we can finally take off those extra fluffy kilos.

"This is not much at all," said my flatmate, when we stood in front of the kitchen window on that first morning of snow, looking out at the snow-covered roofs and streets, "you can tell from the amount of snow on that window's ledge." She went back to sleep while I went out to the balcony itching to step on the stuff that the younger versions of my sister and I used to scratch with glee off our refrigerator's freezer compartment.

While I rejoice in the early arrival of snow - last winter snow only came in January - I feel a twinge of loss from not being able to see those beautiful autumn leaves adorning the trees and the parks that decorate the city. Montreal, a city with a mountain in its midst, is indeed beautiful in autumn when Canada's most venerated leaf - you know, the one on her flag - is scattered all over the city like magic dust.

And as we say good-bye to autumn leaves, so do we bid au revoir to Montreal's cutest residents: the grey-haired squirrels. It's time for these furry locals to go into hiding until it's warm enough for them to roam around in the outdoors again, unafraid but always alert of humans and their digital cameras. Walking through Parc La Fontaine won't be the same without them, but at least another attraction will take their place: the festive crowd that will flock to the park's largest pond to skate.

With the buildings, streets, and pavements now shrouded in white, the city has inevitably taken on a more mysterious aura. But there is one thing that has become less mysterious, at least to me, and that is the poutine - Québec's contribution to the world of cuisine. In its original version a simple dish consisting of french fries topped with cheese curds and gravy, it was initially hard for me to grasp why this less-than-sophisticated concoction of banal ingredients is so dear to the people of this region that even fast-food chains like McDonald's and KFC (renamed PFK here - Poulet Frit Kentucky) have poutine on their menu. The Québecois are, after all, descendants of the French, who are famous for their fine cuisine. But as the toxic mercury in my key-chain thermometer showed increasingly lower temperatures in the last few weeks, the image of this strange dish has appeared more and more frequent in my head and the earlier incomprehension of poutine's popularity has given way to unconditional acceptance.

I suspect that there exists a more scientific explanation to my attachment to poutine that's been growing in proportion to the number of layers I pile on my body. But I don't know what that is and I won't even try to wikipedia it. I can describe the feeling though: as the trio of french fries, cheese curds and gravy melts humbly in my mouth, I feel the warm, fuzzy, and reassuring sense of home-coming. And that - I'm pretty certain - is what ensures the poutine will stay in demand throughout the cold season!

Most of the bicycles have gone now, with just a scattered few dare-devils braving the slippery road and the stabbing cold. Everyone else... down in the metro! Being limited to catching the bus back home, I relish the speed of this form of transportation. Montreal's metro network is easy to comprehend - I guess it helps that the city is nowhere as big as New York, Paris or London - and its service on time. There are occasions, though, when delays happen and this is when it not being able to understand French in Montreal becomes a problem, because announcements over the loudspeakers are only made in French - and there are no written signs either. Is it a political statement on behalf of the transport network? Who knows, but this issue of language is certainly a source of a lot of debates.

The city is known to be divided into two distinct areas; that on the west of Boulevard Saint-Laurent being the English-speaking camp, that on the east side the French. The architecture between some of the suburbs differ markedly. The neat and orderly suburb of Westmount, for example, with street names like Redfern and Kensington, has clearly been created by people whose descendants may now also be found in the UK or Australia. The residential blocks of apartments here are well distanced from one another - and the buildings have names. The area surrounding Avenue Mont-Royal, on the other hand, has been clearly bred by the French. There is no sense of agreed uniformity in the style of the buildings except that they are roughly of similar height. And... there seems to be more cafés around! Different looks aside, I was surprised the other day when my other flatmate told me that the French-speaking residents didn't really like to have English-speaking people in 'their' bars and that from time to time fights between the two groups broke out. Interestingly, she could not give me a definitive answer when I asked her in what language did they fight in!

This underlying issue of a divided, seemingly bickering community is so far from the surface, however, when you stroll along the streets. For this is no doubt a city that attracts and retains friendly (or at least, friendly-looking) people. Getting a smile from a stranger is an everyday occurrence, so is getting unsolicited help from passers-by when you're reading a street map. "Are you lost? Where do you want to go?" This is definitely not Paris...

Having said that, there is a part of Montreal that looks like a page out of Paris' scrapbook - the historic district of Vieux Montreal (Old Montreal) - complete with narrow cobblestone streets, chalk board restaurant menus, and a cathedral called Basilique Notre-Dame. The presence of this grand old neo-gothic cathedral, however, doesn't perpetuate the christian tradition out of which it was spurred into existence. Like in other western countries, christianity is becoming an increasingly less popular commodity here. And what better way to prove one's dismissal to it than using clergical terms as swear words? Strange but true: instead of saying 'merde' - the staple word for unhappy frenchmen and frenchwomen - here one will hear the likes of 'tabarnac', 'calice', and 'hostie' from the pissed-off. Ooh I can't wait to tell my very Christian mum about this!

Nevertheless, “Tabarnac!” I found myself cursing the other night in true Quebecois style, terribly annoyed and slightly panicky, when I realised that I had missed the last metro – sometime past midnight. The 1.5 hour-long walk home that followed was the price I had to pay for having wanted to party with the hip and hedonistic kids of Montreal and not following it through – to the after-hours bars, that is, which are open well until the metro starts running again.

The freezing wind showed no mercy to my uncovered ears as I walked past the mountain - and its lighted cross on top - that watches over the city I've fallen in love with. I hurried my steps along the quiet Ave du Parc, murmuring "Come on!" in true Lleyton Hewitt style as I progressed over the avenue's cross streets.

I have a plan

2007-11-08T01:41:00.000-05:00

It was another ordinary evening in Montreal. The time was 8.45pm, and I decided it was home time after a nice reading session at Chapters bookshop where tonight my conscience finally kicked me in the gut and made me buy something. From the dark and the very very cold outside, I descended the steps leading to Peel station. As soon as my two feet reached the platform, however, a not-so-ordinary thought came into mind.

No no, not a thought.

A brilliant idea. An exciting prospect. A soothing hope that will help me get through the next 1.5 years in Sydney.

I'm going to live out of a suitcase, moving from city to city, starting 2009. Because if there’s one thing that has made me miserable so far in life, it’s settling down.

I have always wanted to ‘get out’ of a place since I was 10. First it was the school. Then it was the country. And after I have succeeded in achieving both, I wanted to do it all over again. As time passed by, the list of things I wanted to get out of grew longer and stronger. My spirit, on the other hand, slipped in the opposite direction.

I was not born as a backpacker, though. The thought of having to move into a new place every week is terrifying. The thought of having to make new friends every week is debilitating. The thought of having to sleep in a new bed every week is agonising. And to seal the no-deal off, I don’t have the physical strength required to be a backpacker.

Luckily, where there’s a will, there’s a way. And there is always more than one way to get around a problem.

A wise friend once said and has repeated himself since, “Being happy is a matter of perspective. It’s not the environment that makes you happy, it’s you who makes you happy.” Or something along that line. That’s one way.

The other is the suitcase way.

I think I know which one I'd choose. This is not a dream, this is a plan.